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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..9f57f44 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,13 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text +*.htm text +*.html text +*.png binary +*.jpg binary +*.svg text +*.pdf binary +*.bmp binary +*.zip binary +*.midi binary +*.mp3 binary diff --git a/79259-0.txt b/79259-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..19f6970 --- /dev/null +++ b/79259-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10813 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79259 *** + + + + + THE STORY OF IVY + + By + MARIE BELLOC LOWNDES + + + + + SOMERSET BOOKS, INC. + NEW YORK + + + + + [COPYRIGHT] + + COPYRIGHT, 1927, BY DOUBLEDAY, DORAN & + COMPANY, INC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. + PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES. + + + + + Contents + + Prologue + Chapter One + Chapter Two + Chapter Three + Chapter Four + Chapter Five + Chapter Six + Chapter Seven + Chapter Eight + Chapter Nine + Chapter Ten + Chapter Eleven + Chapter Twelve + Chapter Thirteen + Chapter Fourteen + Chapter Fifteen + Chapter Sixteen + Chapter Seventeen + Chapter Eighteen + Chapter Nineteen + Chapter Twenty + Chapter Twenty-one + Chapter Twenty-two + Epilogue + + + + + Prologue + +“Tell me something about the Lextons, Mary. Where did you pick them +up?” asked Lady Flora Desmond of her hostess, Mrs. Hampton. “As I +looked at Mrs. Lexton during dinner, I thought I had never seen a +prettier face. When I was a child, your little friend would have been +what people then called a professional beauty.” + +“She certainly is very pretty, and a regular honey-pot! Look at her +now, with Miles Rushworth?” + +The speaker nodded towards the wide-open French window of the +high-ceilinged, oval eighteenth-century sitting-room. She and two +other women were sitting there together after dinner, on the Saturday +evening of what Mrs. Hampton thought promised to be a very successful +week-end party. + +The window gave access to a broad stone terrace. Beyond the terrace +lay a wide lawn, bathed in bright moonlight, and across the lawn +sauntered very slowly two figures, that of a tall man, and that of a +slender woman dressed in a light-coloured frock. They were moving away +from the beautiful old country-house where they were both staying as +guests, making for an avenue of beeches. + +Mary Hampton went on, speaking not unkindly, but with a certain +tartness: “He took her out in his motor after tea, so she might have +left him alone after dinner.” + +“You oughtn’t to complain, my dear! You told me this morning that you +had asked the Lextons this week-end so that they could make friends +with your millionaire,” observed Joan Rodney. + +She was a sharp-tongued, clever spinster who enjoyed putting her +friends right, and telling them home truths. Much was forgiven to Miss +Rodney because she was, if sharp-tongued, fundamentally kind-hearted. + +“My millionaire, as you call him, is one of the finest amateur +billiard-players in England. I made Jack get hold of the best of the +young ‘pros.’ He could only spare us this evening, and now that all +the men, and two of the women, are either playing or watching the play +in the billiard-room, Miles is philandering with Ivy Lexton in the +garden!” + +“Not philandering, Mary,” observed Lady Flora, smiling. “Mr. Rushworth +never philanders.” + +“Well! You know what I mean. It’s my fault, of course. I ought to have +known that no party would be big enough to hold Ivy Lexton and another +attraction. Last time she was here she snatched such a nice boy from +his best girl, and stopped, I’m afraid, a proposal.” + +Lady Flora looked sorry. A plain woman herself, she admired, without a +touch of envy, physical beauty more than she admired anything else in +the world. + +“I don’t suppose Mrs. Lexton can help attracting men. It’s human +nature after all----” + +Quoted Joan Rodney, with a sharp edge to her voice: + + + “It’s human nature but, if so, oh! + Isn’t human nature low?” + + +“Little Ivy isn’t exactly low; at least I hope not,” observed little +Ivy’s hostess reflectively. “But I do feel that there’s a curiously +soulless quality about her. Though she’s not what people call clever, +there’s something baffling about Ivy Lexton. I liked her much better +when I first knew her.” + +“She mayn’t be what silly people call clever, but she’s plenty of what +used to be called ‘nous,’” said Miss Rodney drily. “She engineered her +stroll with Mr. Rushworth very cleverly to-night. Your husband was +determined to get him into the billiard-room----” + +“She had a good excuse for that, Joan. As I told you yesterday, Jervis +Lexton has been looking out for something to do for a long while.” + +Mrs. Hampton turned to her other friend. “It suddenly occurred to me, +Flora, that Miles Rushworth, who must have many jobs in his gift, +might find Jervis Lexton something to do. Ivy knows that I asked them +both for this week-end on purpose that they might meet him. It isn’t +easy to get hold of him for this kind of party.” + +“Have you known the Lextons long, Mary?” asked Lady Flora. + +She felt genuinely interested in Mrs. Jervis Lexton. The quiet, +old-fashioned, some would have said very limited, middle-aged widow, +and lovely, restless, self-absorbed, and very modern Ivy Lexton, had +“made friends.” + +“I have known Jervis ever since he was born. His father was a friend +of my father’s. But I had not seen him for years till I ran across +him, in town, about three months ago. The last time I had seen him was +early in the war, when his father had just died, and he had been given +a fortnight’s leave. He’s what Jack calls quite a good sort; but it’s +bad for a young man to become his own master at twenty. He seems to +have married this lovely little thing when he was twenty-two. That’s +six years ago.” + +“They seem to get on very well,” observed Lady Flora. + +“I think they do, though I’m afraid they’ve muddled away most of his +money in having what Ivy considers a good time. He must have come into +a fair fortune, for his father had sold their place just before the +war.” + +“What fools young people seem to be to-day--I mean compared to the old +days!” exclaimed Joan Rodney harshly. + +She went on: “John Oram--you know, Mary, the big solicitor--once told +me that of ten men who sell their land at any given time, only two +have anything of the purchase-price left at the end of ten years.” + +“Jervis Lexton won’t be one of those two men,” said his hostess +regretfully. “Ivy told me to-day that they’re fearfully hard up.” + +“People often say that when it is laughably untrue! It’s the fashion +to pretend one’s poor. Mrs. Lexton dresses beautifully. She must spend +a great deal of money on her clothes,” interjected Joan Rodney. + +“I’m afraid there was no pretence about what Ivy told me this morning. +She looked really worried, poor little thing! I do hope she will get +something good for Jervis out of Miles Rushworth.” + +“She makes most of her frocks herself; it’s so easy nowadays,” said +Lady Flora. And then she added: “She was telling me to-day about her +girlhood. Her father failed in business, through no fault of his own, +and for a little while she was on the stage----” + +“Only a walking-on part in a musical comedy,” observed Joan Rodney, +“if what her husband, who strikes me as an honest young fellow, told +me is true. However, I’m surprised, even so, that she didn’t do better +for herself in what I have heard described as the straight road to the +peeresses’ gallery, to say nothing of ‘another place.’” + +“Joan! Joan!” cried Mrs. Hampton deprecatingly. + +Miss Rodney got up and came across to where her hostess sat under a +heavily-shaded lamp. + +She put her left elbow on the marble mantelpiece, and looking down +into the other’s now upturned face, “I don’t like your little friend,” +she said deliberately. “I’ve been studying her closely ever since she +arrived on Thursday afternoon, though she didn’t seem aware of my +existence till after lunch to-day. When I was in America last year, +they’d invented a name for that sort of young woman. She’s out, all +the time, for what she can get. ‘A gold-digger’--that’s the slang +American term for that kind of young person, Mary. I know what I’m +talking about.” + +“How can you possibly know?” + +“By instinct, my dear! If I were you I should give pretty Mrs. Lexton +a very wide berth.” + +And then, rather to the relief of the other two, she exclaimed, +“Having done what’s always foolish--that is, said exactly what I +think--I’m off to watch the champion billiard-player.” + +After she had left the room, Mrs. Hampton said slowly, “It’s sad to +hear a good woman, for Joan is really a good woman, say such cruel, +unkind things.” + +“It’s odd, too, for no one can show more real understanding sympathy +when one’s in trouble,” answered Lady Flora in a low voice. She was +remembering a time of frightful sorrow in her own life, when Joan +Rodney had been one of the few friends whose presence had not jarred +on her. + +“Ah, well! She’s devoted to you. Also, you’re an angel, Flora, so +there’s no great merit in being kind to you. What Joan Rodney can’t +forgive in another woman is youth, happiness----” + +“And, I suppose, beauty,” interjected Lady Flora. “Yet to me there is +something so disarming, so pathetic, about Mrs. Lexton.” + +“Then Joan has such a poor opinion of human nature,” went on Mrs. +Hampton in a vexed tone. “You heard with what delight she quoted that +horrid little bit of doggerel. Still, quite between ourselves, Flora, +I must admit that, in a sense, she is more right than she knows about +Ivy Lexton.” + +Lady Flora looked dismayed. “In what way, Mary?” + +“Ivy is very fond of money, or rather of spending it. In fact she is +idiotically extravagant. She is dancing mad, and belongs to the two +most expensive night clubs in town. It’s her fault that they’ve +frittered away a lot of Jervis Lexton’s capital. Also, there’s a side +to her, for all her pretty manners, that isn’t pretty at all.” + +“How d’you mean?” and the other looked puzzled. + +Mrs. Hampton hesitated. Then she smiled a little ruefully. “My maid +told me that when Ivy arrived she was quite rude to Annie--you know, +my nice old housemaid?--because there was no bottle of scent on her +dressing-table! There was one, it seems, last time she was here. It +had been left by some visitor--I don’t undertake to provide such +luxuries.” + +“That doesn’t sound very nice, certainly,” Lady Flora looked naïvely +surprised. + +“Then, if I’m to be really honest, my dear, there’s no doubt that one +reason why Joan Rodney has taken such a ferocious dislike to Ivy +Lexton is owing to the fact that I stupidly told Ivy this morning of +Joan’s marvellous bit of luck--I mean of that big legacy from the +American cousin. I’m afraid that’s why Ivy, who behaved all yesterday +as if Joan hardly existed, began at once to make up to her! But pretty +ways are very much lost on our Joan.” + +She began to laugh. She really couldn’t help it, remembering the way +her friend had received the younger woman’s overtures of friendship. + +Lady Flora looked disturbed, for she was one of those rare human +beings to whom it is a pain to think ill of anybody. + +“After all, Joan’s money is of no good to anyone but herself, Mary? I +don’t see why you should suppose poor little Mrs. Lexton made up to +her because of that legacy.” + +The other looked at her fixedly. + +“Ivy Lexton has a good deal in common with the heroine of Jack’s +favourite drawing-room story.” + +“What story?” asked Lady Flora. Her host’s rather sly sense of humour +had never appealed to her, though they were quite good friends. + +“The story of the lady who said to her husband, ‘Oh, do let’s go and +see them; they’re so rich!’ to be met with the answer, ‘My dear, I +would if it was catching!’” + +Lady Flora looked a little puzzled. “He was quite right. Money is not +catching, though I suppose most people wish it were.” + +“A great many people are convinced that it is, Flora, and our little +Ivy is among them. I’m sure she feels that if she rubs herself up +against it close enough, a little will certainly come off. And I’m not +sure, in her case, that she’s not right!” + +But Lady Flora could be obstinate in her mild way. + +“I like Mrs. Lexton,” she said gently. “I’m going to call on her when +we’re all in town again. She’s promised to take me to a nice quiet +night club. I’ve always longed to see one. I want my sister-in-law, I +mean Jenny, to know her. Jenny loves young people. She gives amusing +little dances----” + +“I think you’ll make a mistake if you introduce Ivy to the Duchess.” + +“I don’t see why, my dear? After all, Mary, your little friend has +been very sweet to me, and that though she knows I’m really poor.” + +The other woman gave a quick look at her friend. Sometimes she thought +Flora Desmond too good, too simple, even for human nature’s daily +food. + + + + + Chapter One + +The July sun shone slantwise into the ugly, almost sordid-looking +bedroom where Ivy Lexton, still only half dressed, had just begun +making up her lovely face in front of a tarnished, dust-powdered +toilet-glass. + +It was nine o’clock in the morning; an hour ago she had had her cup of +tea and--mindful of her figure--the hard biscuit which was the only +thing she allowed herself by way of breakfast. Her husband, hopelessly +idle, easy-natured, well-bred Jervis Lexton, was still fast asleep in +the little back bedroom his wife called his dressing-room, but which +was their box-room and general “glory-hole.” + +Everything that had been of any real value there had gradually +disappeared in the last few weeks, for Ivy and Jervis Lexton, to use +their own rueful expression, were indeed stony-broke. + +Yet they had started their married life, six years before, with a +capital of sixty-eight thousand pounds. Now they were almost +penniless. Indeed, what Ivy called to herself with greater truth than +was usual “her little all,” that is, a pound note, and twelve +shillings and sixpence in silver, lay on the stained, discoloured +mahogany dressing-table before which she was now standing. + +How amazed would her still large circle of friends and acquaintances +have been had they learnt how desperate and how hopeless was her own +and her husband’s financial position. Yesterday she had even tried to +sell two charming frocks brought back for her by a good-natured friend +from Paris. But she had only been offered a few shillings for the two, +so she had brought them home again. + +And now, as her eyes fell on the pound note and tiny heap of silver, +they filled with angry tears. How she loathed these sordid, hateful +lodgings! What a terrible, even a terrifying thing, it was to have +fallen so low as to have to live here, in two shabby, ill-kept +bedrooms, where there wasn’t even a hanging cupboard for her pretty +clothes, and where the drawers of the painted deal chest of drawers +would neither shut nor open. + +The Lextons had come there for two reasons. One, a stupid reason, +because their landlady was the widow of a man who had been employed as +a lad in the stables of Jervis Lexton’s father. A better reason was +that, owing to there being no bathroom in the house, the rooms were +amazingly, fantastically cheap. The Lextons had already been camping +here, as Ivy’s husband put it, for some months, but they rarely gave +any of their friends their address. Jervis still belonged to a famous +club to which some of his rich men acquaintances would have given much +to belong; and Ivy had a guinea subscription to a small bridge club +from which her letters were forwarded each day. + +There came a knock at the bedroom door. It was a funny, fumbling +knock, and she knew it for that of the landlady’s little boy. + +Flinging a pale pink lace-trimmed wrapper round her, “Come in,” she +called out sharply. + +The child came in, holding in his grubby hand two letters. + +She took them from him, and quickly glanced at the envelopes. The one, +inscribed in a firm masculine handwriting to her present, Pimlico, +address, she put down on the dressing-table unopened. She knew, or +thought she knew, so well what it contained. + +There had been a time, not so very long ago, when Ivy Lexton’s +beautiful eyes would have shone at the sight of that handwriting. A +time when she would have torn that envelope open at once, so that her +senses could absorb with delight the ardent protestations of love +written on the large plain sheet of paper that envelope contained. + +But she no longer felt “like that” towards her daily correspondent, +Roger Gretorex. Also she was going to see him this morning in the +hope, nay, the certainty, that he would help to tide over this horrid +moment of difficulty, by giving her whatever money he could put his +hands on. + +Gretorex was of a very different stamp from the men who had up to now +fallen in love with her. He worshipped her with all his heart and +soul, while yet conscious that he was now doing what, before he had +been tempted, he would have unhesitatingly condemned in another man. +As to that, and other matters of less moment, he was what Ivy Lexton +felt to be ludicrously old-fashioned, and she had soon become weary of +him, and satiated with the jealous devotion he lavished on her. + +Also, Roger Gretorex was poor; not poor as Ivy’s husband had become, +largely through his own fault and hers, but through that of his +father, a great Sussex squire, who had gambled and muddled away his +only son’s inheritance. That was why Gretorex was a doctor, and not +what the woman he loved would have liked him to be, an idle young man +of means. + +The other envelope was addressed in a woman’s flowing hand, and it had +been sent on from Ivy’s bridge club. + +The writer of the many sheets this thick, cream-laid envelope +contained was named Rose Arundell. She was a well-to-do, generous, +rather foolish young widow, who had taken a great fancy to lovely Mrs. +Jervis Lexton. Mrs. Arundell had been, nay, was, a most useful friend, +and a look of dismay shadowed Ivy Lexton’s face as she read on and on, +till she reached the end of the long letter. + + + _Wednesday afternoon._ + + Ivy, darling, I have the most _astounding_ news to tell you! + + I’ll begin at the beginning. Besides, I can’t help thinking--for I + know you’re rather worried just now, poor dear--that it may be of help + to _you_. D’you remember my telling you last time we met at that + tiresome fête where we couldn’t see each other for a moment alone, + that I’d had a _wonderful_ adventure? That I’d been to a + fortune-teller? Her name is Mrs. Thrawn. She lives at No. 1 Ranelagh + Reach on the Embankment. Her fee is a pound--and I feel inclined to + send her a thousand pounds when I think of what she has done for me! + + I don’t mind telling you _now_ that I was on the point of taking that + silly boy, Ronny. No one knows but myself how _horribly_ lonely I’ve + been. Well, I thought I’d go and see this Mrs. Thrawn and hear what + she’d got to say; for, after all, I didn’t _love_ Ronny, and I always + had a dreadful suspicion it was my _money_ he liked, rather than _me_. + + Well, my dear, I went off _trembling_. But I can’t tell you how + wonderful she was! She described Ronny and _warned me_ against him. + Then she said that an extraordinary change was coming over my life, + and that if I would only be patient and _wait_, everything I had most + longed for would come to pass. She was most awfully kind--_really_ + kind. She said that if I was sensible and did what she said--I mean + _refuse_ Ronny--I should take a long journey very soon to a place that + she, Mrs. Thrawn, knew well and loved; and that I should be very, + _very_ happy there. That place was India, as I knew, for the woman who + first told me about Mrs. Thrawn said she was the widow of a + _missionary_! + + And then, oh, Ivy, what do you think happened? I wonder if you + remember all I told you about the soldier who was my first love? The + man whom my mother would not let me marry and who did so splendidly in + the war? He’s home on leave from India, where he has a _splendid_ + appointment. We ran across one another in the street, and I asked him + to come and see me. You can guess the rest! + + His leave is up _by the end of next week_. We shall be married very + quietly on Thursday, and sail for _India on Friday_. + + I’m in a whirl, as you can imagine. I’d love to have _you_ at my + wedding, darling, for you really _are_ my dearest friend. But _he_ + doesn’t want anyone there who didn’t know us both in the _old_ days, + before the war. He hasn’t a bean, but, thank God, I’ve _plenty_ for us + both! + + Your _devoted_ + Rose. + + +Ivy Lexton put the long letter she had just read down on the +dressing-table. Then she took up the other, still unopened, envelope, +and stuffed it into her bag. After all she could read the letter it +contained in the omnibus, on her way to see Roger Gretorex. He had +taken over for a friend a slum practice in Westminster, and he lived +in what Ivy called a horrid little street named Ferry Place. + +She turned again towards the looking-glass, and began once more making +up her face at the point where she had been interrupted. She was so +used to the process that she worked quickly, mechanically, though +taking a great deal of intelligent care, far more care than did most +of her young married women friends. + +With regard to everything that concerned herself, Ivy Lexton was +quick, uncannily shrewd, and instinctively clever. She knew how to +exploit to the very best advantage her exceptional physical beauty, +her natural charm of manner, and, above all, her extraordinary allure +for men. + +And yet, so unsuspicious is human nature in that stratum of the +financially, easy, agreeably self-absorbed, and pleasure-loving world +in which Ivy played a not unimportant part, that all the men, and many +of the women, who came across her in that world, would have told you +that Ivy Lexton was “a dear little thing,” “a regular sport,” “a good +plucked one,” and “a splendid wife to that rotter Lexton.” + +When she had finished what was always to her an interesting and +pleasant task, she stood still, and did nothing, for a moment. She +longed to get away from this hateful room and this horrible house, yet +Roger Gretorex would not be free of his poorer patients for quite a +long while. This was the more tiresome as she always went into his +tiny mid-Victorian house by the back way, through the surgery, which +gave into a blind alley. + +Suddenly her eyes fell on “her little all.” Why shouldn’t she take +that pound note, and call on Rose Arundell’s wonderful fortune-teller +on her way to Ferry Place? After all, she, too, might have an +unexpected bit of luck waiting for her round the corner. + +She slipped on a cool pale-pink cotton frock given her by that same +generous friend who was now, to her regret, going out of her life. +Then she jammed a little brown straw hat on her fair, naturally wavy, +shingled head, and, tiptoeing down the carpetless stairs, she hurried +through the dirty hall into the sunshiny street. + + +Ranelagh Reach consisted of a row of six early nineteenth-century +houses on that part of the Embankment which forms a link between +Westminster and Chelsea. Two of the houses had evidently been taken +over lately by well-to-do people, for they had been repainted, and +their window-boxes were now filled with ivy-leaved geraniums. The four +other houses were shabby-looking and dilapidated, and it was in one of +these that there dwelt the woman who had taken as her professional +name that of Janet Thrawn. The blinds of No. 1 were down, the brown +paint on the front door had peeled, and the steps had evidently not +been “done” for days. Everything looked so poverty-stricken that Ivy +felt surprised when a very neat and capable-looking maid opened the +door in answer to her pull at the old-fashioned bell. She had expected +to see a slatternly little girl. + +“I’ve come to see Mrs. Thrawn; Mrs. Arundell sent me.” + +“I’m not sure that Mrs. Thrawn can see you, miss, unless you’ve made +an appointment. But please come in, while I go and see.” + +The inside of the little house was in its way as much of a surprise as +the maid; it was very different from what the outside would have led +the visitor to expect. There was a fine Persian rug on the floor of +the narrow hall, and plenty of light came in from a window half-way up +the staircase. Affixed to the red walls were plaster casts of hands, +forming a curious, uncanny kind of decoration. + +After the maid had gone upstairs Ivy Lexton felt a sudden impulse “to +cut and run.” A pound note meant a great deal to her just now. But as +she was turning towards the front door, the woman came down the steep +stairs of the old house. + +“Mrs. Thrawn will see you,” she said. Then she turned and preceded the +visitor up the staircase. + +As they reached the landing the maid murmured: + +“Mrs. Thrawn won’t be a moment.” + +Ivy Lexton looked round her nervously. There were evidently two rooms +on this floor--the front room, of which the blinds were down, and a +back room, of which the door was masked by a heavy embroidered green +silk curtain. On the patch of wall which formed the third side of the +landing was a dark oil painting, bearing on its tarnished gold frame +the inscription in black letters, “The Witch.” The subject was that of +a white-haired woman being burnt alive, while an evil-looking crowd +gloated over the hideous sight. + +There came the tinkle of a bell. + +“Mrs. Thrawn will see you now,” said the woman shortly, drawing back +the curtain to show a door already ajar. + +“Come in!” called a full, resonant voice. + +Feeling excited and curious, for this was the first time she had ever +been to a fortune-teller, Ivy brushed past the maid. + +Then she felt a pang of disappointment. The room before her was so +very ordinary--just an old-fashioned back drawing-room, containing one +or two good pieces of furniture, while on the chimney-piece stood a +row of silver-gilt Indian ornaments. + +Even the soothsayer, the obvious owner of this room, impressed her +client as being almost commonplace. At any rate there was nothing +mysterious or romantic about her appearance. She was a tall, +powerful-looking woman, nearer sixty than fifty. Her grey hair was cut +short, and she was clad in an old-fashioned tea-gown, of bright blue +cashmere, which fell from her neck to her feet in heavy folds. + +The most remarkable feature of Mrs. Thrawn’s face was her eyes. They +were light hazel, luminous, compelling eyes, and as Ivy Lexton +advanced rather timidly towards her they became dilated, as if with a +sudden shock of gripping, overwhelming surprise. + +Yet nothing could have appeared at once more simple and more +attractive than this lovely girl who wanted to take a peep into the +future. Ivy Lexton looked almost a child in her flesh-coloured cotton +frock and the simple pull-on brown hat which framed her exquisite +little face. + +Making a determined effort over herself, Mrs. Thrawn withdrew her +astonished and, indeed, affrighted, glance from her visitor, and said +coldly, “I cannot give you long this morning, for I have an +appointment”--she looked at her wrist-watch--“in twenty minutes. I +suppose you know my fee is a pound, paid in advance?” + +Ivy felt a touch of resentment. Only twenty minutes for a whole pound? +Yet she was beginning to feel the compelling power of the woman, and +so, slowly, she took the one-pound note that remained to her out of +her bag. + +Mrs. Thrawn slipped the note into one of the patch pockets of her +gown, and motioned her visitor to a low stool, while she sat down, +herself, in a big arm-chair opposite. For a moment Ivy felt as she had +felt when as a little girl she was going to be scolded. + +“We will begin with your hands. No! Not like that. Your left hand +first, please, and the back to start with.” + +As she took Ivy’s hand in her cool firm grasp Mrs. Thrawn said +quietly, “I need not tell you that you have amazing powers of--well, +keeping your own counsel, when it suits you to do so.” + +Then she turned the hand she held over, and taking a small lens out of +the pocket where now lay Ivy’s one-pound note, she closely scrutinised +the lines criss-crossing the rosy palm. + +“You’ve the most extraordinary fate-line that I’ve ever seen--and +that’s saying a very great deal,” she observed. + +“What I want to know,” began Ivy eagerly, “is----” + +“Whether there is going to be any change for the better in your life?” + +The fortune-teller waited a moment, and, lifting her head, she gave +her client a long measuring look. “Yes, there is going to be a great +change in your life. But as to whether it will be for the better or +for the worse----?” + +Mrs. Thrawn hesitated for what seemed to the other a long time. But at +last she exclaimed, “From your point of view I should say ‘for the +better,’ for I see money, a great deal of money, coming your way.” + +Ivy turned crimson, so great were her surprise and joy. + +“Will it be soon?” she asked eagerly. + +“Very soon--in a few hours from now.” + +“Are you sure?” + +“Quite sure.” + +Mrs. Thrawn lifted her great head, and again she looked at her visitor +fixedly. + +“May I speak plainly? Will you try not to be offended at what I’m +going to say?” + +“Nothing you say could offend me,” cried Ivy in her prettiest manner. +“You don’t know how happy you’ve made me!” + +“I do know. But, though I don’t suppose you will ever believe it, +money is not everything, Mrs.----” + +“--Lexton.” + +The name slipped out. After all, why shouldn’t she tell Mrs. Thrawn +her name? Yet she was sorry she had done so a few moments later, for +the fortune-teller, leaning forward, exclaimed harshly: + +“Now for the powder after the jam! I sense that you are engaged in an +illicit love affair fraught to you, and to others also, with frightful +danger.” + +Once more Ivy’s face crimsoned under her clever make-up, but this time +with fear and dismay. Her eyes fell before the other woman’s hard +scrutiny. + +“Wrong is, of course, a matter of conscience, and I know you think you +have nothing to be ashamed of. But you are leading a fine soul astray, +and evil influences are gathering round you.” + +“I know that I’ve done wrong,” faltered Ivy, frightened and perplexed +by Mrs. Thrawn’s manner, rather than by her warning. + +The other said sharply, “You know nothing of the sort! You’ve not got +what I call a conscience, Mrs. Lexton. But a conscience nowadays is a +very old-fashioned attribute. Many a young woman would hardly know +what to do with one if she had it!” + +Ivy did not know what to answer, and felt sorry indeed that she had +let this censorious, disagreeable person know her name. + +“For your own sake,” went on Mrs. Thrawn earnestly, “break with this +man who loves you. For one thing, ‘it’s well to be off with the old +love before you are on with the new.’” + +“Then there is going to be another man in my life?” Ivy asked eagerly. + +“I see a stranger coming into your life within a few hours from now. +Whether his valuable friendship for you endures will entirely depend +on yourself.” + +Mrs. Thrawn got up from her chair. + +“As we haven’t much time, I will now look into the crystal.” + +She drew down the blind of the one window in the room, and, going +across to the writing-table, she took off it a heavy, round glass ball +which looked like, and might indeed have been sold for, a +paper-weight. Then, moving forward a small, low table, she put it +between herself and her visitor. + +“Don’t speak,” she said quickly. “Try to empty your mind of all +thought.” + +Bending her head, she gazed into the crystal, and what seemed to Ivy +Lexton a long time went by. + +In reality, it might have been as long as two minutes before Mrs. +Thrawn began speaking again, this time in a quick, muffled voice. + +“I see you both now, you and the dark young man on whom you will bring +unutterable misery and shame, and who will bring you distress and +disappointment, if you do not break with him now, to-day. The safe way +is still open to you, Mrs. Lexton, but soon it will be closed, and you +will find yourself in a prison of your own making, and trapped--trapped +like a rat in a sinking ship.” + +Again there was a long, tense silence, and again Ivy began to feel +vaguely frightened. + +The prediction of shame and misery to another meant very little, if +indeed anything, to her. But distress and disappointment to herself? +Ah! that was another thing altogether. Ivy very much disliked meeting +with even trifling disappointments. + +Mrs. Thrawn looked up. All the brilliance had gone out of her curious, +luminous eyes. + +“I fear you will not follow the better way,” she said slowly. “Indeed, +I sense that you are making up your mind not to follow it, unless the +doing so falls in with your other plans. I see this dark young man’s +destiny closely intertwined with your life. He will bear the scars you +are about to inflict on him to his grave, and that whether he lives +but a few months, or a long lifetime. You do not what you call love +him any more. But he loves you as you have never yet been loved, and +never will be.” + +Her voice softened and became low and pitiful, for the girl who was +now gazing at her with a surprised, frightened expression on her +exquisite face looked too young to be what the soothsayer believed her +to be, that is, already doomed, unless she altered her whole way of +life, to suffer terrible things. + +“As woman to woman, let me give you a word of advice, Mrs. Lexton. For +your own sake try to follow it.” + +“I will!” cried Ivy sincerely. + +“Do not be afraid of poverty----” And then, as she saw the other’s +instinctive recoil, “Poverty does not touch the likes of you with its +cold finger,” and Mrs. Thrawn gave an eerie laugh. “If you are wise, +if you do what is still open to you to do, you will have ups and +downs, but the ups will predominate, and there will always be some +man, even when you become what I should call an old woman, who will be +proud, yes, proud, to be your banker.” + +“Do you see something nice coming for me soon in that glass ball?” +asked Ivy nervously. + +She longed, secretly, to be told something more of the new man who was +coming into her life. + +Mrs. Thrawn bent over the cloudy crystal. Then she muttered: + +“The pictures are forming. They are coming thick and fast. And--but +no, I will not tell you what I see, for what I am seeing may not +concern you at all. It may concern the future of the woman who is now +on my doorstep----” + +And, as she said the word “doorstep,” the old-fashioned house-bell +pealed through the house. + +Mrs. Thrawn rose and put her crystal back on the writing-table. Then +she pulled up the blind. + +“We’ve only a few moments left. But I’m going, for my own +satisfaction,” she interjected in a singular tone, “to tell your +fortune by the cards.” + +As she spoke she took a pack of cards out of the drawer of her +writing-table, and sank down again into her chair. + +“Now cut.” + +After Ivy had obeyed, the soothsayer rapidly dealt out the cards. Then +she put down her finger on the queen of hearts. + +“This card stands for you,” she dragged her finger along. “And here is +the king of diamonds, the man who is coming into your life, and who +will give you money, much money. Even so----” she shook her head, “you +will never be able to count on him as you can count on the man who is +still bound to you, and whom I bid you cast out of your life at +once--at once.” + +She swept the cards together and rose from her chair. + +“I saw trouble in your hand; I saw trouble in the crystal; I saw great +trouble in the cards. Yet, Mrs. Lexton, you are not a woman who +troubles trouble before trouble troubles you. Even so, unless you +follow my advice about your present lover, I see misfortune galloping +towards you like a riderless horse.” + +“But you do still believe that I’m going to get a lot of money?” Ivy +asked pleadingly. “Did the cards tell you that also?” + +“Yes, the cards told me that also.” + +From outside the door came the sound of footsteps. + +“One last word--one last warning. When you came into this room you +were not alone, Mrs. Lexton.” + +Ivy stared at her. What could Mrs. Thrawn mean? Of course she had been +alone! + +“You were accompanied, surrounded, by a huge mob of men and women, +invisible to you, but visible to me. Are you an actress?” + +“I was an actress, for a little while, before I married,” said Ivy, +smiling. “And I’d love to go back on the stage, but only as a leading +lady, of course.” + +“Given certain eventualities, you will become of great moment, of +absorbing interest, to hundreds of thousands of people. Men and women +will fight over you--the newspapers will record your every movement.” + +Ivy smiled self-consciously. This last unexpected prediction gave her +a thrill of pleasurable excitement. What could it mean but a +triumphant return to the stage, of which she had been hitherto only a +humble and transient ornament? + +“There is a woman already in your life--I see her now standing behind +you. She is a grey-haired, worn-looking old woman. If you fail to do +what I advise you to do, she will play an overwhelming part in your +destiny. Indeed it is she who may determine your fate.” + +Then she turned, and taking a tiny silver-gilt bell off the +mantelpiece she rang it sharply. + +The door opened, and the maid pulled aside the heavy curtain. There +was no stranger waiting on the landing. Ivy looked so surprised that +the woman smiled. “Mrs. Thrawn doesn’t like her clients to cross one +another. The lady who has just come in is waiting in the front room.” + +As Mrs. Thrawn’s late visitor walked quickly down the Embankment +towards the place for which she was bound, she felt more really +light-hearted than she had felt for, oh! such a long time. Money +coming her way--and a new man in her life? That was all Ivy Lexton +really remembered of that curious interview. The warnings Mrs. Thrawn +had given her she put down to the soothsayer’s conventional outlook on +life. + +As for the woman’s advice concerning Roger Gretorex, she ought to have +known, being a fortune-teller, that she, Ivy, had already made up her +mind to break with her secret lover. She could not, however, break +with him to-day, for two reasons. First, she was going to ask him for +a little money, and secondly, he was giving a theatre-party this +evening. She, Ivy, her friend Rose Arundell, and Jervis Lexton were to +be Gretorex’s guests, and he was taking them on, after the play, to +supper at the Savoy. That had been settled days ago. + +Rose Arundell? She told herself vexedly that Rose would certainly +“chuck.” In fact it was plain that Rose had forgotten all about +to-night’s engagement, or she would have mentioned it in her letter. +They would be three instead of four. But perhaps, after all, that +didn’t really matter, for Jervis was quite fond of Roger. + +There was, however, a fly, albeit a small fly, in the ointment. There +was no such person, there never had been, or, it seemed to her, could +be, in her life, as a worn-looking, grey-haired woman. This fact made +her feel a little doubtful, a little anxious, as to the truth of the +fortune-teller’s other predictions. + + + + + Chapter Two + +“Why, there’s Mr. Rushworth! Do go over and ask him to join us for +coffee.” + +Ivy Lexton was smiling at her husband--a delicious, roguish smile. As +he smiled back, he told himself with conscious satisfaction that his +little wife was far the prettiest woman here to-night. + +Her sleekly brushed-back auburn hair, white skin, violet eyes, and +slender rounded figure were wont to remind those few of her admirers +familiar with the art of Romney of a certain portrait of Nelson’s +Emma, spinning. + +Ivy’s husband was pleasantly aware that she was not only the +prettiest, but also one of the smartest looking, of the women supping +at the Savoy to-night. This was the more commendable, from simple +Jervis Lexton’s point of view, as they were so hard up--stony-broke, +in fact. + +He generally did at once anything Ivy asked him to do, but now he +waited for a few moments. + +“D’you mean that chap we met at the Hamptons? _I_ don’t see him.” + +“Don’t be stupid, darling! He’s over in that corner, with two +dowdy-looking women, looking bored to death. I’m sure he’ll be +delighted to join us for coffee.” + +There had come an edge of irritation in her seductive voice. Ivy had a +peculiar and very individual intonation, and many a man had found it +the most enchanting voice in the world. + +At last Lexton rose, just a thought unwillingly. He had been enjoying +himself to-night, forgetting the money anxieties which had at last +become desperately pressing, while listening to his wife’s gay chatter +concerning the well-known people who were also supping at the Savoy +this July night. + +The young man liked a party of just three friends much better than the +big noisy suppers to which he sometimes escorted his wife. In a way it +was funny that their host, a grim-looking young doctor named Roger +Gretorex, was their friend, for even Lexton realised that, though he +and Gretorex were both country-bred, and belonged to the now vanishing +old county gentry class, they had nothing else in common. + +The host had hardly said a word during the whole evening, either at +the theatre, or since they had come on here. So taciturn had he been +that Lexton supposed the poor chap was glum because the pretty widow, +Mrs. Arundell, whom they were to have brought with them to make a +fourth, had fallen out. He knew that Ivy suspected that Gretorex liked +Mrs. Arundell quite a little bit. If so, the young man was out of +luck, for he was the last sort of chap an attractive widow was likely +to fancy. + +As he threaded his way between the crowded round tables, there came +over Jervis Lexton a queer and very definite feeling of unwillingness +to obey his wife. He remembered that he and Ivy had met this man, +Miles Rushworth, about three weeks ago at a week-end country house +party, and that Ivy had taken quite a fancy to him. But he, Jervis, +remembered that he himself had not taken to Rushworth. For one thing, +he had thought the man too damn clever and pleased with himself. + +Rushworth was, however, an enormously rich man, and Ivy had spent most +of the Saturday evening of that long week-end out in the moonlit +garden, pacing up and down with him. Late that same night she had told +her husband, excitedly, that her new friend had said he thought he +could find what Lexton had long been looking for--an easy, well-paid +job. + +But Ivy’s husband, simple though he might be, had learnt a thing or +two since they had joined the ranks of what some call “the new poor.” +One was that, though his wife could twist most men round her little +finger, it didn’t follow she could make them do much to help him. This +time he had been so far wrong that on the Monday morning this chap +Rushworth, after motoring them both back to town, when saying good-bye +had muttered something to Ivy as to “setting your husband on his feet +again.” But this had happened a good three weeks ago, and their new +acquaintance had given no further sign of life. + + +After Lexton had risen from the little round table, the two he had +left sitting there kept silence for what seemed, to the woman, a long +time. Then suddenly Gretorex exclaimed, in a low tense voice, “How I +hate hearing you call that man ‘darling’!” + +Ivy Lexton made no answer to that statement. She was picking up the +tiny crumbs left by her fairy bread from the side of her plate, and +arranging them in a diamond pattern on the tablecloth. But, though she +seemed intent on her babyish task, she was angrily, impatiently aware +that her companion was gazing at her with unhappy, frowning eyes. His +words had cut across her pleasant thoughts--her joyful relief at +having seen Miles Rushworth, at knowing that in a few moments he would +be here, with her. + +“I’m sorry I made this plan about to-night,” she said at last, +scarcely moving her lips. “It was stupid of me.” + +“It was more than stupid of me to agree to it,” muttered Gretorex +savagely. “I’ve never been more wretched in my life than I’ve been +to-night!” + +She told herself, with a touch of contempt, that what he had just said +was not only stupid, but utterly untrue. Why should the presence of +her good-humoured, easy-going husband make Roger wretched? But she +kept her feeling of irritation in check. + +She glanced round at him--it was a pleading, tender glance--and his +heart leapt. How wondrous beautiful she was, and--how divinely kind! + +And then a curious thing happened to Roger Gretorex. In that softly +illumined, flower-scented, luxurious London restaurant, it was as if +he saw in a vision the wistful and plain, if intelligent, face of a +girl he had known the whole of her short life. Her name was Enid Dent, +and she was now twenty-one. Had he not met Ivy Lexton seven months +ago, he and Enid Dent would now have been engaged to be married.… + +So strong was the half-hallucination that he shut his eyes. When he +opened them again the vision was gone, and he was hearing the voice +which meant more to him than any other voice would ever mean to him in +this world murmur gently, “It hasn’t been exactly cheerful for me.” + +Impulsively he exclaimed, “You’re an angel, and I’m a selfish brute, +Ivy----” + +She smiled, but it was a mirthless smile. + +“Not a brute, Roger, only just a little selfish. I was a fool to ask +you to ask us to-night----” + +For the first time this evening Ivy Lexton had uttered a few true, +sincere words. She knew now that it had been a stupid act on her part +to bring her husband and this strong-natured, not over good-tempered, +young man who loved her together this evening. But after all they had +to meet now and again! Poor Jervis quite liked Roger Gretorex. Why +couldn’t Roger like Jervis, too? + +Ivy was really fond of her husband. He was so kindly, so unsuspicious, +on the whole so easy to manage, and still so absolutely devoted to +her. And yet of late she often thought, deep in her heart, what a +glorious life she might be leading now, if Jervis, less or more +devoted, had granted her, two years ago, an arranged divorce. There +had been a rich young man who had adored her. But Jervis had angrily +refused to fall in with her scheme. It had led, in fact, to their only +real quarrel. But “all that” was now forgiven and forgotten. + +She stole a look at the occupants of the other tables and, as she did +so, she felt a sharp stab of envy. They all seemed so prosperous, so +care-free! Each woman had that peculiar, indefinable appearance which +only a happy sense of material security bestows, each man, in his +measure, looked like a lord of life.… But what was this Roger Gretorex +was saying as he bent towards her? “I sometimes wonder if you really +know, dearest, how much I love you?” + +The ardent words were whispered low, but she heard them very clearly, +and she smiled. Though she was growing very weary of Roger Gretorex, +it is always sweet to a woman to feel she is loved as this man loved +her. + +Still, she felt relieved when she saw her husband, and the three she +had sent him for, threading their way through the narrow lane left +between the beflowered tables. + +Miles Rushworth was leading the little company. He was the kind of man +who always does lead the way. Though he was now only two or three +tables off, Ivy realised that he had not yet seen her, and so she was +able to cast on him a long measuring glance. + +Mary Hampton, the woman at whose house they had met, had said that he +was a millionaire. The word millionaire fascinated Ivy Lexton. And +then all at once she told herself that it was Rushworth, of course it +must be, who was the stranger coming into her life. + +Miles Rushworth was tall and well built but, had he not kept himself +in good condition, he would have been a stout man. He had a healthy, +almost a ruddy, complexion; brown eyes; what is called a good nose; a +large, firm mouth; and perfect teeth. His short-clipped brown hair was +already slightly streaked with grey, though he was only thirty-six. + +He was not in, and did not care to be in, what to herself Ivy called +“society.” Neither was he nearly so much a man of the world as was, +for instance, her own rather foolish husband. Yet Miles Rushworth had +that undeniable air of authority, that power of making himself +attended to at once, which always spells brains and character, as well +as what old-fashioned folk call a good conceit of oneself. + +She glanced also, with quick scrutiny, at Rushworth’s guests. They +were probably a mother and daughter, and, though dowdily dressed, +obviously well-bred women. The older lady was wearing a black lace +gown of antiquated make; the lace was caught at her breast with an +early-Victorian brooch made of fine diamonds. Hung round her long, +thin neck was an emerald necklace. The girl had a pleasant, animated +face, and a good figure. Her long hair was still dressed as it had +been when she was eighteen--a fact that marked her age as being about +seven- or eight-and-twenty. She was wearing an unbecoming pale mauve +dress, and there came over Ivy a fear that she might be a widow. +Lovely Ivy Lexton shared the elder Mr. Weller’s opinion concerning +widows. + +The younger lady’s only ornament was a string of real pearls. The +pearls, though not large, were beautifully matched. + +As Miles Rushworth came close up to the table, Ivy Lexton rose from +her chair, and her face broke into an enchanting expression of +pleasure and welcoming surprise. As she held out her hand she +exclaimed: “Jervis felt sure it was you! Thank you so much for coming +over here. It is most kind of your friends to come too.” + +Rushworth took her little hand in his strong grasp. He gazed down into +her upturned face with a look which, to her at least, proved she had +not been mistaken, and that, in spite of his broken promise, already +she meant something to him. + +He turned round: “May I introduce my friend Mrs. Lexton, Lady Dale?” +And then, more lightly, he exclaimed: “Bella, I want you to know Mrs. +Lexton!” + +As she held out her hand, “Bella” smiled and looked, with unenvious +admiration, at the lovely young woman before her. This pleased Ivy, +for she had an almost morbid desire that all those about her should +like her, feel attracted to her, and think well of her, whatever their +relation to herself might happen to be. + +A moment later Bella Dale found herself sitting next to a +gloomy-looking young man who somehow interested her because he looked +clever, as well as gloomy. Jervis Lexton was talking pleasantly, +happily, to Lady Dale. As for Miles Rushworth, he had lowered himself +into a chair which he had unceremoniously seized from another table, +and which he had put a little apart from the rest of the party, and +close to Mrs. Lexton. + +“I have forgotten all you told me, and what I promised you,” he said +in a low tone. “But I only came back to town this morning, and I’ve +been fearfully busy all the time I’ve been away.” + +He waited a moment, then he asked her what she felt to be a momentous +question. “Would your husband take a job away from London?” + +A feeling of acute dismay swept over her. It would be dreadful if this +big powerful man--powerful in every sense--were to arrange suddenly +that she and Jervis should go to live in some dreary, dull town in the +north of England! So, after a perceptible pause, she answered frankly, +“I don’t think I should like to leave London, and as for my husband, +I’m afraid he’d be like a fish out of water, anywhere else.” + +Miles Rushworth looked across to where Jervis Lexton was now sipping +slowly a liqueur brandy. “The chap looks a regular slacker,” he said +to himself contemptuously. + +He considered it a tragic thing that the deliciously pretty, +sweet-natured, little woman now sitting so close to him that they +nearly touched, should be married to “that.” + +He heard her whisper hesitatingly, “But Jervis must get something to +do very soon now, Mr. Rushworth, or I don’t know what we shall do. +We’re so horribly hard up,” and her mouth, that most revealing +feature, quivered. + +His strong face--the face he believed to be so shrewd, and which was +shrewd where “business” was concerned--became filled with warm +sympathy. + +“That can’t be allowed to go on!” he exclaimed a little awkwardly. + +During their last moonlit walk and talk in the dark, scented garden of +the house where they had first met, Ivy Lexton had told him the +pathetic story of her life. How, when she and Jervis Lexton had first +married, they had been quite well off, but that a dishonest lawyer had +somehow muddled away all “poor Jervis’s money.” + +She had further confessed that now they were really “up against it,” +hard-driven as they had never been before. + +“An idle man,” she had said, speaking in that tremulous, husky voice +which nearly always touched a listener’s heart-strings, “can’t help +spending money. I would give anything to get my husband a job!” + +Miles Rushworth remembered, now, that pathetic cry from the heart, and +he felt much ashamed that he had not attended to the matter ere this. +But he had not forgotten this dear little woman, and, had they not met +to-night, she would have heard from him within a day or two. + +All at once, by what was a real accident, his fingers touched her bare +arm. They lay on her soft flesh for the fraction of a minute, and it +was as if she could feel the thrill which ran through him. + +She did not move, she scarcely breathed. Neither could have said how +long it was before those hard, cool fingers slid down and grasped her +soft hand. He crushed her hand in his strong grasp, then let it go. + +“I suppose you would like Mr. Lexton to start work this autumn?” he +said at last. “There isn’t much doing during August and September.” + +His voice sounded strangely caressing and possessive, even to himself. +But he felt sure that Ivy, a “nice” woman, had no suspicion of how +much he had been moved by that casual, unexpected touch. + +Miles Rushworth told himself that he must mind his step, for this +seductive little creature, God help him, was another man’s wife, and +he “wasn’t that sort.” Neither, he would have staked his life on it, +was she. + +And yet? Was it he?--sensible, prudent, nay, where women were +concerned, over-cautious--Miles Rushworth, or some tricksy, bold +entity outside himself which uttered the words: “By the way, what are +you doing next month? If you’re doing nothing in particular, I do wish +you’d both join my yachting party. Lady Dale and her daughter are +coming, together with two or three others.” + +A look of real, almost child-like, joy and pleasure flashed into Ivy +Lexton’s face and, once more, the man sitting so closely by her side +felt shaken to the depths. Tenderness was now added to the feeling of +passionate attraction of which he was already half uncomfortably, half +exultantly, aware. How young she looked, how innocent--now, at this +moment, like a happy little girl. + +“D’you really mean that?” she cried. “I’ve always longed to go +yachting! But I’ve never even been in a yacht. Jervis is awfully fond +of the sea, too; he was at Cowes when the war broke out!” + +“Then that settles it,” exclaimed Rushworth delightedly. “We join the +_Dark Lady_ at Southampton on August the 5th! By the way, perhaps I +ought to tell you that we’re not going on any specially wonderful +trip. We’re only going to cruise about the coast of France. I’m afraid +Lady Dale and her daughter will have to leave us fairly soon--they’ve +promised to stay with some people near Dieppe.” + +“It will be heavenly--heavenly!” + +Ivy whispered those five words almost in his ear, for she was +exceedingly anxious that Roger Gretorex should hear nothing of this +delightful plan. She had promised the young man she would spend a +week, during August, alone with him and his mother in the Sussex manor +house which was still his own, though all the land up to the park +gates had been sold. + +As she gave a quick surreptitious glance at the host who was her +dangerously jealous lover--even jealous, grotesque thought, of her +husband, entirely unsuspicious Jervis--a feeling of sharp irritation +again swept over Ivy Lexton. + +She told herself angrily that, though Roger Gretorex might belong by +birth to grand people (to her surprise he made no effort to keep up +with them), he had never been taught to behave as a young man should +always behave in pleasant company. Even now, he still had what Ivy +called “his thundercloud face,” and he was scarcely paying any +attention to the girl sitting by him. + +Ivy, not for the first time, realised that she had been a fool indeed +to allow herself to become attracted to a man who was so little of her +own sort. And yet Gretorex had been such a wonderful wooer! And his +ardour had moved and excited her all the more because, at times, he +had been as if overwhelmed with what had seemed to her an absurd kind +of remorse at the knowledge that the woman he loved was another man’s +wife. + +Dismissing the distasteful thought of Gretorex from her mind, she +turned to Rushworth. + +“Don’t say anything to my husband about this delightful plan,” she +murmured. “I shall have to bring him round to the idea. You see, he’s +so awfully eager to start work at once.” + +The lights were now being turned off one by one, so Ivy smiled across +at Lady Dale, and rose from the chair which touched that on which +Rushworth was still sitting as if lost in a dream. + +As, a few moments later, they all stood together outside in the cool +night air--all, that is, but Roger Gretorex who, after having uttered +a curt good-night, had gone back to the now fast-emptying restaurant +to pay his bill--Miles Rushworth exclaimed: “We can all squeeze into +my car, or, if not, I’ll go outside.” + +Ivy was delighted. She very much disliked the spending of any +unnecessary ready money just now; and the thought of going home in a +crowded omnibus on this fine July night had been unbearable. + +In the end it was Jervis Lexton who sat outside by the chauffeur, +while inside the car the other four discussed their coming yachting +tour. + +At last the Rolls-Royce drew up before the shabby-looking, +stucco-fronted house in Pimlico, and Rushworth helped Ivy Lexton out +of his car with a strong, careful hand. + +“Don’t ring,” she said hurriedly; “Jervis has a latchkey. This house +belongs to an old servant of the Lexton family; that’s why we are +living here.” + +As Ivy’s husband opened the door, Ivy’s new friend caught a glimpse of +the dirty, gaslit hall, and his heart swelled with mingled disgust and +pity. He must get this sweet, dainty little woman out of this horrible +place at once--at once. Taking her hand in his, he held it just a +thought longer than is perhaps usual even when a man is bidding +good-night to an exceptionally pretty woman. + + +Long, long after Jervis Lexton was fast asleep in his crowded little +back room, Ivy lay awake on the hard, lumpy, small double bed which +took up most of the space in the front room. + +She was tired, and with fatigue had come a feeling of depression. +Miles Rushworth had said nothing as to their next meeting. He had +forgotten her before--he might forget her again. As for Mrs. +Thrawn--all that woman had told her might be fudge. The hard, shrewd +side of Ivy’s nature came uppermost, and whispered that she had +probably been very silly to spend a pound on a fortune-teller, and +sillier still to believe in her predictions. + +As she lay there, moving restlessly about, for it was a hot night, +there came over her a feeling of revolt, almost of despair, at the +conditions of her present day-to-day life. She was vividly aware of +her own beauty--what beautiful young woman is not? In a certain set, +the world of the smart night clubs, she was known as “the lovely Mrs. +Lexton.” Further, she was popular, well liked by all sorts of people, +women as well as men, and dowered by nature with a keen appreciation +of all that makes civilised life decorous, orderly, and attractive. + +Unlike some of her friends, she hated and despised Bohemian ways. She +had tasted something of what Bohemia can offer her subjects during the +few weeks she had spent in the chorus of a musical comedy. Yet now she +was condemned--she sincerely believed through no fault of her own--to +lead an existence full of sordid shifts, and of expedients so ignoble +that even she sometimes shrank from them, while always on her slender +shoulders lay the dead weight of her husband, a completely idle, +extravagant, and yes, well she knew it, very stupid young man. + +With angry distress she now asked herself a question of immediate +moment. How was she to procure even the very simplest clothes suitable +for life on a yacht? For a long time, now, she had had to pay ready +money where she had once been welcome to unlimited credit. + +Then in the darkness her face lightened. She had remembered Roger +Gretorex! Poor though he was, he could always find money for her at a +pinch. He had done so this very morning, and would of course do so +again. + +Then her face shadowed. Though Roger had his uses, he was becoming a +tiresome, even a dangerous, complication in her life. Yet had it not +been for him, had he not taken them to the Savoy to-night, she might +never again have seen the man on whom now all her hopes centred. + +Ivy Lexton had an intimate knowledge of the ugly, sinister sides of +human nature. Her own father, a big man of business, had failed when +she was seventeen. He had killed himself to avoid legal proceedings +which would have led to a term of imprisonment. Their large circle of +acquaintances (of real friends they had none) were some kind, some +cruel, to the feckless, foolish, still pretty widow, and her lovely +young daughter. The widow had soon married again, to die within a +year. Ivy, after drifting about rudderless for a while, had obtained +the “walking-on” part which had introduced her to an idle, +pleasure-seeking, rich class of young men. By the time she was twenty +she could have married half a dozen times. Her choice finally fell on +Jervis Lexton, partly because he was of a superior social world to the +other men who made love to her, but far more because at that time he +had been undisputed owner of what had seemed to her a large fortune. +Yet that fortune had melted like snow, lasting the two of them barely +six years.… + +Tossing about in her hot bed, Ivy reminded herself with a dawning +feeling of hope, almost of security, that dull Lady Flora, who was no +gossip, had said, during the week-end they had first met, that Miles +Rushworth’s income was over a hundred thousand a year.… + +As she was drinking her cup of tea the next morning, there was brought +up to her an envelope, marked “Personal,” which had come by hand. + +Eagerly tearing it open, at once she saw that, in addition to a +letter, it contained a small plain envelope: + + + The Albany, + _Friday morning._ + + My dear Mrs. Lexton, + + I have already thought of a job for your husband, but the earliest + moment he can begin work would be the third week in September, say a + week after our return from our yachting trip. This being so, I hope + you will forgive me for sending you the enclosed cheque for a hundred + pounds, which he can pay me back at his convenience after he has begun + to draw his salary. + + I shall be so pleased if you and he will lunch with me to-morrow at + the Carlton Grill. We can then make our final arrangements as to + meeting at Southampton on August 5th. + + Yours very sincerely, + Miles Rushworth. + + +As Ivy drew out of the smaller envelope an uncrossed cheque made out +to “self,” and endorsed “Miles Rushworth,” tears of joy rose to her +eyes. + +She ran into the next room, and excitedly told her husband the good +news. But she said that the cheque their generous new friend had sent +them “on account” was for fifty pounds. + +Jervis Lexton leapt out of bed. “How splendid!” he exclaimed. And +then, seizing her in his arms, he pirouetted in the tiny space left in +the middle of the garret. “You are the cleverest as well as the +prettiest little woman in the whole world!” he cried. + + + + + Chapter Three + +“Do look at Mrs. Lexton! Isn’t she absolutely lovely, Miles?” + +“Yes, Bella--and as good as she is pretty, I really do believe,” was +the half-joking answer. + +Look at her? Rushworth had done very little else since Ivy had come +out of her state-room this morning. + +The two speakers were standing on the deck of the _Dark Lady_, and +three yards away Ivy Lexton, lying back in a deck-chair, was talking +animatedly to one of her fellow-guests, a good-looking young man named +Quirk, who after having done well in the war, had been very nearly +down and out by 1921, when he had been found and succoured by +Rushworth. He now had his own ’plane, his air-taxi as he called it, +and, thanks again to Rushworth, he never lacked good customers. + +It was true that Mrs. Lexton looked lovely to-day. All the lovelier +because she was thoroughly enjoying her new rôle, that of a perfectly +turned out yachtswoman. + +But Miles Rushworth had already told himself more than once, in the +last hour, that he would be cool, detached, impartial, when +considering this special guest. + +“I suppose you couldn’t say a word to her, just pointing out that +she’s quite pretty enough to do without lipstick and rouge? I wish +you’d tell her they don’t look, somehow, the right thing on a yacht.” + +Bella Dale smiled and shook her head. “If you want me to make friends +with her, that would be a very poor beginning----” + +He said suddenly, “I am afraid Lady Dale doesn’t care for Mrs. +Lexton?” + +The colour deepened in his companion’s cheeks, and she looked +embarrassed. + +“Mother hasn’t had much of a chance of talking to her yet.” + +Bella Dale was uncomfortably aware that her mother had taken an +instant dislike to Ivy Lexton on the evening they had first met at the +Savoy; and she knew that Lady Dale’s feeling had increased, rather +than lessened, since the Lextons had joined Miles Rushworth’s yacht, +for she had exclaimed to her daughter in the privacy of their +state-room: “It’s foolish to be too good-natured, Bella. That young +woman is a regular little minx!” + +But Bella Dale, at this time of her life, saw everything through Miles +Rushworth’s eyes. She liked what he liked, admired what he admired, +and at any rate tried to believe good what he believed good. He had +asked her earnestly to make friends with Mrs. Lexton, and he had told +her something of the struggle the poor, pretty, little thing had gone +through. Also he had let her see how great was his contempt for Ivy’s +worthless, extravagant, idle husband.… + +Rushworth had always had from childhood a passion for the sea. His had +been an old-fashioned home, and everything had been done by his +parents to promote what they thought was for his happiness from the +day he was born; but not once had he been asked what he wished to do +in life. His path had been marked out for him almost, it may be said, +before his birth. His father would have been surprised as well as +dismayed to learn that, both as a child and as a youth, his great wish +had been to enter the Navy. During the war he had given to naval +charities what would have crippled a lesser fortune than his own. + +His fine yacht was his one personal extravagance, and on the _Dark +Lady_ he spent by far the happiest hours of his life. But he had +deliberately so arranged the accommodation that it was impossible for +him to have a really big party aboard. Eight to ten, including +himself, was his limit, and the same people were generally asked by +him each year. Lady Dale and her daughter, together with an +old-fashioned couple belonging to a rather older generation than +himself, who looked forward the whole year through to this August +yachting fortnight, always came. To these he had added this summer the +flying man, the latter’s bride, and the Lextons. + +Acting as hostess was a middle-aged spinster cousin of his mother’s, +who, like himself, had a passion for the sea. Charlotte Chattle was a +pleasant woman of the world, speaking both French and Italian well, +and clever in organising expeditions for those of his guests who cared +for land jaunts. But the only people who counted in Rushworth’s mind +on this summer cruise were Lady Dale and her daughter, and Ivy Lexton +and Ivy Lexton’s husband. + +Ivy’s half-presentiment at the Savoy had been perhaps a case of +thought transference, for Miles Rushworth, just about that time, had +been thinking seriously of marrying Bella Dale. Indeed, had that +meeting with the Lextons not taken place, he would almost certainly +have been engaged by now to Bella, and he still so far deceived +himself as to wish that the girl he thought he loved, and whom he +intended to become Mrs. Miles Rushworth, should make friends with Ivy +Lexton. + +Bella Dale had done her best in the last three days to fall in with +his wishes, but she found it difficult to get further than a mild +acquaintanceship with Miles Rushworth’s beautiful guest. She knew +nothing of the night club, dancing, racing life, which was all that +both the Lextons knew and thought worth living for. And Ivy, on her +side, was entirely ignorant of, and would have despised, had she known +of them, the manifold social and general interests which filled the +life of even so quiet a girl as Bella Dale. Also Bella, who was no +fool, realised with some discomfort that Mrs. Lexton had very quickly +become aware that Lady Dale did not like or approve of her. + +And Ivy herself? Ivy was counting the hours--to her intense relief +they had now become hours instead of days--to the time when Lady Dale +and her daughter would leave the yacht at Dieppe. + +During the three weeks that had elapsed since their memorable meeting +at the Savoy, Ivy Lexton and Miles Rushworth had been constantly +together. It had all been very much above board--indeed, quite as +often as not, Jervis Lexton had been of the company when the two +lunched or dined, went to the play, or, pleasanter still, motored down +to Ranelagh to spend an enchanting evening. + +But Rushworth had a definite philosophy of life. To pursue a woman +who, whatever the undercurrents to her life might be, appeared happily +married, would have seemed to him a despicable, as well as a cruel and +unmanly thing to do. Also, he prided himself on being able, when he +chose to do so, to resist temptation, and he felt convinced he could +handle what might become a delicate situation not only with sense, but +even with comfort to himself. This was made the easier to him because +he put Ivy Lexton on a pedestal. God alone knew how he idealised her, +how completely he believed her soul matched her delicately perfect, +ethereal-looking body. + +While Ivy was chatting gaily to her companion, she was yet almost +painfully aware of the two who stood talking together in so earnest +and intimate a way. She was feeling what she had never felt in her +life of twenty-six years: that is, bitterly, angrily jealous of a girl +whom she thought stupid, dull, and unattractive. + +Miles Rushworth’s attitude to herself disconcerted her. She could not, +to use her own jargon, get the hang of him. It was so strange, in a +sense so disturbing, that he never made love to her. Then, now and +again, she would remember Mrs. Thrawn, and Mrs. Thrawn’s predictions. + +She had followed the fortune-teller’s advice with regard to Roger +Gretorex. She had insisted that it would be better for them both +neither to see nor to write to each other till she came back to London +in September; and he had had perforce to agree to her conditions. + + +The yacht made Dieppe the next morning, and at breakfast there rose a +discussion as to how the party could spend their time on shore to the +best advantage. Rushworth at once observed that he would not be able +to take part in any expedition ashore. He had received important +business telegrams, and he had a number of letters to dictate to a +stenographer whose services he had already secured. + +Miss Chattle, who knew he would value a quiet working day, suggested a +motor expedition to a celebrated shrine a hundred kilometres inland +from Dieppe. She declared that if they started at once they could be +back in comfortable time for dinner. + +And then it was that Ivy, as in a lightning flash, made up her mind as +to how she would spend to-day. + +“I get so tired motoring, so I’d rather stay behind.” She turned to +her host, “While you’re doing your work, I can take a walk in the +town. Though I’ve been to Paris two or three times, I’ve never been +anywhere else in France.” + +“That’s a good idea! We might meet at the Hotel Royal about one +o’clock, and have lunch together.” + +Half an hour later Miss Chattle shepherded the rest of the party into +two roomy cars, while Rushworth escorted Lady Dale and her daughter on +to the quay, where a carriage was waiting for them. + +Lady Dale went forward to speak to the driver, and Rushworth turned to +the girl he still intended should be his wife. + +“If we don’t meet again before the end of September, I do want just to +say one thing to you, Bella.” + +He spoke in so peculiar, and in so very earnest, a tone, that Bella’s +heart began to beat. + +“What is it you want to say?” she asked, her voice sinking almost to a +whisper. + +“I’ve said it before, and now I want to say it again----” + +Bella looked at him fixedly. Thank God, she hadn’t betrayed herself. +But what was this he was saying? + +“I do want you to make real friends with Mrs. Lexton--I mean, of +course, after you and Lady Dale are back at Hampton Court, when Jervis +Lexton will have begun work in my London office. His wife, poor little +soul, hasn’t any real friends, from what I can make out.” + +“Yet she seems to know a good many people, Miles. When we were looking +through those picture papers yesterday, she seemed to know almost +everyone who had been snapshotted at Goodwood!” + +“I was thinking of real friends--not of those stupid gadabouts who are +here, there, and everywhere,” he said with a touch of irritation. + +And then they heard Lady Dale’s voice. + +“I think we ought to be off, Bella. It’s nearly half-past ten, and you +know they lunch early at the château.” + +Rushworth wrung Bella’s hand. “I’m sorry you’ve had to leave the yacht +so soon.” + +But his voice had become perceptibly colder. He was disappointed, even +a little hurt. He had always thought his friend Bella not only kind, +but full of sympathy and understanding. Yet she had spoken of his new +friend with a curious lack even of liking, let alone sympathy. + + +When Miles Rushworth came back from seeing the Dales off, he found Ivy +Lexton sitting on the now deserted deck. There was a pile of +newspapers on the little table which had been brought up close to her +deck-chair, and she was pretending to read the Paris _New York +Herald_. Convinced that Miles Rushworth intended to be with her the +whole of the long sunny morning, she was not only surprised, but also +very disappointed, when he said cheerfully: + +“Well, lovely lady, I’ve a hard mornin’s work before me, for there’s a +whole pile of letters and telegrams waiting to be answered. Cook’s man +has found me an excellent shorthand writer, so I hope to be through in +a couple of hours.” + +Her face suddenly became overcast, and he felt tempted, for a moment, +to throw aside his work. But he resisted the temptation. + +“Would you rather laze about here or take a walk and meet me at the +Royal?” + +“I’ll go into the town. There are one or two little things I want to +buy. What time shall I be at the hotel?” + +He hadn’t meant to meet her till one o’clock. But for once the old +Adam triumphed. + +“Let me see? It’s half-past ten now, let’s meet at twelve-thirty. +We’ll have an early French lunch, and then we’ll go for a motor drive, +or do anything else that you feel like doing. From what I can make +out, the others can’t be back till seven, if then.” + +Ivy waited till she had seen him disappear into the state-room which +was the one retreat on the yacht where Rushworth never asked any of +his guests to join him, and about which they all felt a certain +curiosity. Then she put down the paper she still held in her hand, +and, closing her eyes, she began to think. + +What manner of man was this new friend of hers? He must “like” her +surely? “Like” was the ambiguous term Ivy Lexton used to herself when +she meant something very different from “liking.” Yet he had never +said to her the sort of thing that the men she met almost always did +say, and on the shortest acquaintance. Stranger still, he had never +asked anything of her in exchange for what had become considerable and +frequent benefactions. True, Rushworth’s gifts had almost always been +useful gifts. He had never, so to speak, “said it with flowers.” That +had puzzled her a little, made her sometimes wonder as to what his +real feelings could be. Never once--she had made a note of it in her +own mind--had he mentioned Bella Dale during the three weeks when they +had been so much together in London. + +So it had been a disagreeable shock to find Lady Dale and her daughter +already established on the yacht, and on the happiest terms of old +friendship with everyone on board. Again and again during the week’s +cruise, Ivy had asked herself anxiously whether Miles Rushworth could +really “like” such a dowdy, matter-of-fact girl as was Miss Dale? Yet +now and again when she saw them together, talking in an intimate, +happy way, and when she heard them alluding to events which had +happened long before she knew Rushworth, there would come over her a +tremor of icy fear, for well she knew that, from her point of view, a +man friend married was a man friend marred. + +It was to her a new experience to be in close touch with such a real +worker as was Miles Rushworth. There was nothing in common between him +and the idle, often vicious, and for the most part mindless young men +who drifted in and out of the spendthrift world in which she and +Jervis had both been so popular as long as their money had lasted. + +She got up at last, and went into her luxurious state-room to fetch a +parasol. It was a charming costly trifle, matching the blue coat and +skirt she was wearing, but large enough to shelter her face from the +sun. Her quaint little sailor hat, a throw-back to a mode of long ago, +while very becoming, was quite useless from that point of view. + +She walked slowly along the deck, hoping against hope that Rushworth +would see her and, leaving his work, join her; but as she passed his +state-room she heard his voice dictating. + + +The French of all ages and both sexes are lovers of beauty, so in a +small way Ivy Lexton’s progress through the picturesque old town of +Dieppe was a triumphal progress. Most of the people she passed turned +and looked after her with unaffected admiration and one man--she felt +instinctively that he was some important person--followed her for +quite a long way. But it was very hot, and in time she grew weary of +the crowded streets. Taking as her guides a couple who were carrying +their bathing costumes and towels, she went after them up a shady +by-way and so through the old gateway leading to the wide lawns along +the sea-front, which are the great charm of Dieppe. + +What an amusing, lively, delightful place! Against the deep blue sky +rose the white Casino, and the parking place was crowded with serried +rows of motors. Along the front groups of Frenchwomen, for the most +part wearing white coats and skirts, strolled about with their +attendant cavaliers. + +Her spirits bounded up; she felt herself to be once more what she had +not felt herself to be at all on Rushworth’s yacht, in her own natural +atmosphere again. And, to add to her satisfaction, she soon spied out +the Hotel Royal, brilliant with flowers and blue and white sun-blinds. + +The Angelus chimes rang out from one of the old churches, and the gay +crowd began to move slowly towards the villas and hotels which form +the sea-front side of the incongruously-named Boulevard de Verdun. + +Ivy walked into the cool hall of the hotel, and sat down in an easy +chair with a sigh of pleasure. + +How she wished she was staying here instead of on the yacht! She +delighted in the atmosphere of gay bustle and care-free wealth and +prosperity of all the happy-looking people who were strolling past her +on their way to the restaurant. She enjoyed the glances of covert, and +in some cases of insolent, admiration thrown her way; in fact she was +kept so well amused that she gave quite a start when she heard +Rushworth’s voice exclaim, “So here you are, little lady! I’ve been +looking for you everywhere. I thought you’d be out of doors.” + +She got up, and then he said something which filled her with dismay. + +“Among my letters this morning there was one from a very old friend of +mine, a man with whom I worked during the war. He and his wife have a +room in some back street, for they’re not at all well off. So I +thought it would be a good plan to take them for a drive this +afternoon. I felt sure you wouldn’t mind?” + +“Of course not!” + +She felt bitterly disappointed, but she would have been more than +disappointed had she known that Rushworth had deliberately asked these +old friends to join them, in order to put temptation out of his way. + +He added, a little quickly, “I felt rather a brute not asking them to +lunch, but I was so looking forward to my lunch alone with you.” + +“I’d been looking forward to it, too,” she said in a low voice. + +And then there did come across him a sharp, unavailing pang of regret +that he had been so stupidly quixotic, and instantly he made up his +mind that their drive should not last more than two hours. After all, +he and Ivy were both decent people, and dear friends to boot; why +shouldn’t they go back to the yacht to spend a quiet happy hour or +two, alone together, before the others returned? + +They had a delicious lunch, the sort of lunch that Ivy enjoyed, in an +airy room full of chattering, merry, prosperous-looking couples. + +Then, after they had had coffee, they went out and slowly sauntered to +the little garden at the foot of a great cliff on which stands an +ancient stronghold. It was cool and quiet there, and the only person +with whom they shared the garden was an old lady exercising her +Persian cat on a lead. + +They sat down in silence. Rushworth was smoking a cigar, Ivy a +cigarette. Suddenly he threw away his cigar, for there had come over +him a wild, mad impulse to put his arms round her. But, instead, he +moved a little farther away. + +She, too, suddenly flung away her cigarette, and turned to him, “I +sometimes wonder, Mr. Rushworth, if you know how awfully grateful I am +to you for all you’ve done for me--and for Jervis.” + +He saw that tears were in her eyes, and he took her hand and clasped +it closely. He was saying to himself, “Poor little darling, it would +be the act of a cad, of a cur, to take advantage of her gratitude +and--and loneliness.” + +“You’ve nothing to be grateful for,” he said quietly, and then he +released the soft hand he held. “It’s a great privilege to meet +someone who really deserves a little help. A man who is known to have +money is there to be shot at,” he smiled a little grimly. “Any number +of what are called deserving objects are presented to his view. The +real problem is to find the people who want helping, and who won’t ask +for help.” + +He sincerely believed that the woman to whom he was addressing those +words fell within that rare category. + +Suddenly he got up. “I see the Actons,” he exclaimed. “I told them +three o’clock in front of the Casino--they’re a little before their +time.” + +It was a wonderful drive to Tréport, and Ivy, rather to her own +surprise, enjoyed it. Partly, perhaps, because Rushworth’s old friend, +James Acton, “fell for” her at once, to the amusement of his +good-humoured, clever, middle-aged wife. They stopped at the Trianon +Hotel on their way back and had some early tea; but even so it was +only five o’clock when they returned to Dieppe and dropped the Actons. + +Dismissing the car, they began walking towards the harbour. At +last--at last they were alone. + +In the Grande Rue Ivy stopped, instinctively, before a minute shop, a +branch of a famous house of the same name at Cannes and Deauville. + +The window contained but one object, to Rushworth’s masculine eyes a +rather absurd-looking trifle, for it consisted of a lady’s vanity bag +which looked like a tiny bolster of mother-of-pearl. The clasp +consisted of a large emerald set with pearls. + +“What a lovely little bag!” exclaimed Ivy ecstatically. + +“D’you like it?” Rushworth was filled with a kind of tender amusement. +What a baby she was, after all! + +“Like it? I adore it!” + +“Then I’ll give it you--for next Christmas!” + +“You mustn’t! It must be fearfully expensive,” she cried. + +But he had already gone into the shop. With something like awe, she +watched him from the pavement shovelling out bundles of thousand franc +notes on to the narrow counter behind which stood a white-haired +woman. + +How rich, how enormously rich Miles Rushworth must be! + +As he joined her, Ivy saw that the precious bag was now enclosed in a +soft leather case which had evidently been made for its protection. He +put his delightful gift into her eager hands, and said, smiling: + +“The elegant old dame in there--she looked like a marquise +herself--declares that the clasp of this bag was once a brooch +belonging to the Princesse de Lamballe, Marie Antoinette’s friend.” + +“How wonderful!” + +He looked at her quizzically, “I said I hoped it wouldn’t bring you +bad luck! She quite understood the allusion,” which was more than Ivy +did. + +“It was made, it seems, to the order of a lady who supplied the jewel +for the clasp. She’s suddenly gone into mourning, and as they had made +it they consented to try and sell it for her. It was being sent on to +their Deauville branch this very afternoon. It’s been here a week, and +the old lady admitted that she hadn’t had a single inquiry for it!” + +Ivy had now opened the case and taken out the wonderful little bag, +her eyes dancing with pleasure and gratitude. She told herself with +satisfaction, that, given the right kind of frock, she could use it by +day as well as by night. + +There was a very practical, shrewd side to Mrs. Jervis Lexton. But it +was a side of her nature which she was slow to reveal to her men +friends. + + +As they went on board the yacht a telegram was handed to Rushworth. +Carelessly he tore it open, read it through, and then handed it to his +guest: + + + Tremendous affair taking place here to-morrow midday. French President + unveiling monument to fallen. We propose staying the night in + excellent hotel. Shall be back by tea-time. + + Charlotte Chattle. + + +Ivy looked up. There was joy in Rushworth’s face--and more than joy, +for the eager, half-shamed look Ivy had so often seen on a man’s face +was there also. But all he said was: + +“This means that we shall have a quiet little dinner alone together, +you and I.” + +“That will be very nice,” she answered quietly. + +“I’ve a good deal more work to get through so shall we say half-past +eight? We might have dinner in what I call my sea-study. I always dine +there, when I’m alone on the yacht.” + +Just as she was leaving him, she turned and said gently: + +“Don’t you think you ought to have a little rest after all the work +you did this morning? Why not wait till to-morrow?” + +There was such a sweet solicitude in the tone in which she uttered +those words that Rushworth felt touched. + +“Work’s the only thing that makes time go by quickly,” he answered, +and then, in a low, ardent tone, he added, “When I’m not with you, I’d +far rather be working than idling----” + +A sensation of intense, secret triumph swept over Ivy Lexton. She felt +that the gateless barrier Miles Rushworth had thrown up between them +was giving way at last. To-night would surely come her opportunity of +lifting their ambiguous relationship from the dull plane of friendship +to the exciting plane of what she called love. + +She turned away, and then, a moment later, she stayed her steps, and +looked back to where he was still standing.… + +Small wonder that during the three hours that followed that informal +parting, Rushworth, while mechanically dictating business letters, was +gazing inwardly at a lovely vision--an exquisite flower-like face and +beseeching, beckoning eyes. + + + + + Chapter Four + +When Ivy came out of her state-room at half-past eight, the great +heat of the day had gone, and old Dieppe harbour was bathed in a +mysterious, enchanting twilight. She had put on to-night a white +chiffon frock which made her look childishly young, and, as she +floated wraithlike down the deck towards him, Rushworth caught his +breath. + +He had been waiting for her--he would have been ashamed to acknowledge +to himself for how long, though he knew that she was never late. +Jervis had no sense of time, but punctuality was one of Ivy’s virtues. + +“I’m afraid you’ll think my sea-study rather austere!” + +“Austere?” + +His lovely friend hardly knew the meaning of this, to her unusual, +word. Eagerly she walked through into what was the floating workshop +of a very busy man, though something had been done this evening to +disguise its real character. Two great bowls of variously coloured +roses stood on the writing-table; and in the centre of the state-room +was a small table set for two. On an Italian plate in the centre of +the table was heaped up some fine fruit. + +“How delicious!” She clapped her hands. “Who would ever think we were +on board a ship?” + +“You are the first guest of mine who has ever come through this door.” + +He longed to tell her, he wanted her to know, that she held a place +apart from any other human being in his life. + +“How about Miss Chattle?” + +“Charlotte least of all! Once she was free of this room, I should +never be able to get her out.” + +“Not Miss Dale even?” + +The colour rushed into Rushworth’s sunburnt face, and Ivy noted it +with a jealous pang, as he answered more gravely, “No, not even Bella. +I made up my mind--and I’m a man who once he has made up his mind, +well, sticks to it--that this state-room should be my bolt-hole, as +well as my study. It’s understood by everyone on board that when I’m +in here, I won’t be disturbed.” + +He pointed to a telephone instrument. “If the yacht catches fire, my +skipper has permission to ring me up.” + +The short dinner was served well and quickly by Rushworth’s own +steward; but neither of the two felt in the mood for talking in the +presence of even the most unobtrusive third. Each was longing, +consciously longing, to be alone with the other. + +During that half hour when he had been waiting for her, aching for +her, Miles Rushworth had faced up to the fact that he was madly in +love with Ivy Lexton, and that he would give everything he valued most +in the world to have her for his own. + +But his passion for another man’s wife--so again and again he assured +himself--was of an exalted, noble, and spiritual quality. Never would +he allow that passion to become earthly. He admitted, at long last, +that, as regarded his own peace of mind, he had been unwise to see as +much of Ivy as he had done in London. But he had dreamt, fool that he +had been, of a friendship which should be prolonged even after his +marriage to another woman. During those three weeks he had also +thought often of the girl whom he meant to make his wife. Ivy should +be his friend and Bella’s friend--their dear, dear friend. + +But since they had all come together on his yacht Rushworth had had a +rude awakening. He knew now that Bella Dale was his dear, dear friend, +but Ivy Lexton was the woman he loved. + + +At last dinner, which had seemed to them both intolerably long, was +over. + +“Would you like coffee served on deck?” asked Rushworth. + +But before Ivy could answer, the steward intervened. “It’s just begun +to rain, sir,” and as he said the word “rain,” there came a flash of +lightning, followed by a peal of thunder. + +Ivy’s host turned to her. “We shall have to stay here, unless you’d +rather go into the saloon?” + +“I’d rather stay here,” she said in a low voice. + +“Shall I pull down the blind, sir?” + +“You may as well.” + +In a minute the man brought in coffee, and then they heard him running +along the deck through the pelting rain. + +Ivy’s hand lay on the table. She looked at it--her fingers were +twitching. She felt, with joy and triumph, the tenseness of the +atmosphere between them, and, for the first time, something in her +responded to Rushworth’s still voiceless passion. + +“I don’t want any coffee,” she murmured. + +“Neither do I.” + +They both rose. He looked across at her. “You’ll find that sofa over +there comfortable, I think.” + +He uttered the commonplace words in a strained, preoccupied tone. The +summer storm outside seemed at one with him, shutting them off from +the world. + +Ivy walked across to the little couch, which was just large enough for +two, and, after a perceptible moment of hesitation, he followed her. + +For a moment he stood silently gazing down into her upturned face. +Then he began moving forward a chair. + +“Won’t you sit down here, by me?” she asked, looking at him with her +dovelike eyes. + +“Shall I? Is there room?” + +“Plenty of room,” she said tremulously. + +As he sat down, there came another vivid flash of lightning, followed +by a peal of thunder louder than the one before. + +He turned quickly to her: “You’re not frightened, are you?” + +“I am--a little.” + +And then all at once she was in his arms, and he was murmuring low, +passionate words of endearment and of reassurance between each long, +trembling, clinging kiss. + +How he loved her! And how wonderful to know that she, poor darling, +loved him too. He felt as may feel a man who, after wandering for days +in the desert, suddenly comes on an oasis and a cool stream. + +But even now, when every barrier between them seemed miraculously +broken down, Rushworth kept a certain measure of control over himself. + +“I’m going to pull up the blind and put out the light,” he whispered +at last. + +A moment later they were in darkness, though now and again a vivid +flash of lightning illuminated the harbour through sheets of blinding, +torrential rain. + +He strode back to the little couch, and sank down again by her; but he +resisted the aching longing to take her once more into his arms. +Instead he took her soft hand in his, while he muttered in a broken +voice, “I’ve been a brute! You must forgive me.” + +She answered in a stifled voice, “There is nothing to forgive.” + +“I’ve been to blame all through!” + +Then, in a tone he strove to lighten, “I ought to have labelled you +‘dangerous’ from the first moment I saw you.” + +She melted into tears, and remorsefully he whispered, “Have I hurt you +by saying that?” + +She shook her head; but she pulled her hand away. + +“Listen, Ivy?” + +It was the first time Miles Rushworth had called her by her name, and +for that, Jervis, poor fool, had thought him old-fashioned and +over-formal. + +“Yes,” she whispered submissively. + +“We’ve got to talk this out--you and I.” + +“Yes,” she said again, wondering what he meant by those strange words, +and longing, consciously, even exultantly, longing, for him to take +her again in his strong arms. + +“I’ll begin by telling you something I’ve never told to any living +being.” + +He uttered those words in so serious a tone that Ivy felt a thrill of +fear, of doubt, go through her. Had he a woman in his life whom he +would not, or could not, give up? + +“I was twenty when my father died, and before his death we had a long +private talk. Quite at the end of our talk, he made me give him a +solemn promise.” + +Rushworth stopped a moment. He was remembering what had been the most +moving passage up to now in his thirty-five years of life. It was as +if he heard the very tones of his father’s firm, if feeble, voice. + +“At the time my promise seemed easy to keep. Indeed, I was surprised +he thought it necessary to exact it.” + +“What was your promise?” Ivy whispered, and she came a little, only a +little, nearer to him. + +“My promise was never to allow myself to fall in love with a married +woman. Though it hasn’t always been as easy as I thought it would be, +till now I have kept that promise. But now I’ve broken it, for I love +you. Love you? Why I adore you, my darling----” + +Again he waited, and Ivy felt oppressed, bewildered. Many men had said +that they adored her. But no man had made that delightful, exciting +admission, without showing strong apparent emotion. + +Rushworth had uttered the words calmly, collectedly, and staring +straight before him. + +“And I can’t help myself--that’s the rub,” he went on, in the same +matter-of-fact voice. “Indeed, I’m afraid I’m going to go on loving +you all my life,” he smiled a rueful smile in the soft darkness which +encompassed them. + +“But of course I knew, even then, when I was a cub of twenty, what my +father really meant. There is a part of my promise to him I can keep; +and what’s more--by God, I intend to keep it!” + +She was moved, thrown off her usual calculating balance, by the +strength of his sincerity, and also made afraid. + +“What d’you mean?” she faltered. + +“It’s true that I love you--I didn’t know there could be such love in +the world as that which I feel for you, Ivy. If it would do you any +good for me to jump into that harbour out there and be drowned, I’d do +it! But I’m going to keep my love for you sacred, and I’m going not +only to save myself, but I’m going to save you, my darling, darling +love.” + +He took her hand again, and this time he kissed it. + +Ivy burst into bitter tears, and Rushworth put his arm around her. + +“I know how you’re feeling,” he whispered brokenly. “My poor little +darling! But for God’s sake don’t cry. I can’t bear it. You’ve nothing +to be ashamed of--it’s been all my fault.” + +“Can’t we go on being friends? It’s been so wonderful having you for a +friend!” she sobbed. + +“Of course we’ll go on being friends--dear, dear friends. But +lovers--no! I’m going right away--it’s the only thing to do.” + +He was telling himself that of course she did not understand--how +could she, gentle and pure if yet passionate creature that she +was?--the strength of his temptation. She would never know, indeed, he +must never allow her to know, what she meant to him, and all he was +about to give up for her sake. A sweet, loving wife, children, in a +word, a happy, normal life--all that Bella Dale had stood for in the +secret places of his heart. + +He was brought back to the present by her agitated, agonised, “Going +away? Surely you’re not going away, now?” + +He waited a moment without answering her. A frightful struggle was +going on in his heart, his conscience. Then, at last, he answered the, +to him, piteous question. + +“Do you remember my once telling you of my sister? Of how I longed for +you to know her--but that she was too ill for me to take you to her.” + +“Yes,” she murmured, trying to remember. + +She had not been really interested, only secretly glad that +Rushworth’s widowed sister was not well enough to see her. Ivy Lexton +did not care to be brought in contact with her men friends’ mothers or +sisters. They never liked her, and she never liked them. + +“My sister saw a new specialist this week, and he says she ought to +winter in South Africa. She’s horribly lonely--her husband was killed +in the war, and--and now I’ve made up my mind to go with her. You do +agree that it’s the best thing--indeed, the only thing for me to do?” + +There was something in his tone as he uttered the question that made +her feel that, for the moment, at any rate, no plea would move him. + +“I hate your going so far away,” she moaned. + +“It’s the only thing to do,” he repeated in a hard tone. + +“I’m afraid you despise me,” she said very low. + +“Despise you? Good God! I honour you----” + +And then all at once she was again in his arms. + +Moved out of her false selfish self by the strength and reality of his +emotion, “I love you,” she murmured, clinging to him between their +kisses. “I shall always love you,” and believed she spoke the truth. + +Surely, surely, he wouldn’t go away now? + +The door opened, and in the darkness they sprang apart. + +“The hotel has sent the car for you, sir. It is now on the quay.” + +“The car?” + +A feeling of surprise and despondency swept over Ivy. + +Rushworth got up. For a moment or two, it seemed like eternity to him, +he found he could not speak. + +Then he said, “I’m afraid I must go now, Mrs. Lexton. I’m sleeping at +the Hotel Royal to-night. A business friend of mine is staying there, +and we are going to have a talk before turning in. He is going to +Paris to-morrow morning.” + +Addressing his servant: “I’ll be coming in a minute. The storm’s over, +isn’t it?” he added. + +“I think it is, sir.” + +“Then put on the light again, and take the despatch-box that’s over +there on my writing-table to the car.” + +Rushworth waited till the sounds of footsteps on the deck outside had +grown faint. Then he came back to Ivy, but he had once more regained +possession of himself. + +“I want to tell you, now, what I didn’t mean to tell you till the last +day of our trip. Some cousins of mine have a charming flat in the Duke +of Kent Mansion, close to Kensington Gardens. They want to let it for +six months, and I’ve just taken it in the hope that you and your +husband will live there till you have found something you like +better.” + +“You’re too good to me.” + +She looked crushed, defeated, humiliated. + +“Ivy! My precious darling----” the yearning cry escaped him. + +Slowly she lifted her head, and her eyes, swimming in tears, her +trembling mouth, longing for his kisses, beckoned. + +He leapt forward, and she fell upon his breast. “Must you go away? I +don’t know how I shall live without you,” she sobbed. + +As at last he tore himself from her arms, “Oh God,” he exclaimed. “If +only you were free!” + + + + + Chapter Five + +“Look at lucky Olive Larnoch. A month ago she didn’t know where to +turn for sixpence!” + +Ivy Lexton, and one of her young married women friends, Janet Horley, +were lunching together at the Embassy Club. + +Every place in the great room was occupied. At the next table an +American diplomat was being lunched by one of the younger Ministers of +the Crown; and close by a popular actor-manager was entertaining a +pretty young duchess. Two sisters, who had just leapt into musical +comedy fame, were laughing at the top of their voices, while being +gaily chaffed by their host, an elderly peer who had entertained two +generations of charming women by the daring quality of his wit. + +Olive Larnoch? Ivy gazed eagerly across at a couple sitting at right +angles from where she sat herself. + +“Look at her string of pearls studded with huge diamonds! They’re all +real!” went on Mrs. Horley excitedly. “As for the emerald Jock Larnoch +gave her the day they became engaged, it’s worth five thousand +pounds----” + +“I’m sure I’ve seen her before,” exclaimed Ivy. + +“Of course you must have often seen her, in the old days, when she was +Olive Ryde, a war widow without a bob----” + +“--and a stocking-shop in North Bolton Street?” + +“You’ve got it in one! And her stockings always laddered, too. Well, +one evening, she met a Scotch man of business here at the Embassy, +named Jock Larnoch. He’d never been in a night-club before, so I +suppose it went to his head! I happen to know the people who brought +him here, and the funny thing is that they hadn’t an idea he was made +of money. They just thought him comfortably off. Yet his first +love-gift to Olive was a Baby Rolls--she didn’t know what to do with +it, poor dear!” + +Ivy gazed with absorbed interest at the fortunate bride of the Scotch +millionaire. How marvellous it must be to have everything one wants, +including an adoring husband! She sighed a quick, bitter little secret +sigh. The sight of this fortunate young woman had brought back to her +poignant memories and a sudden realisation of what her life might be +now, had she been, a few weeks ago, what Miles Rushworth called +“free.” + +“Is that nice-looking man her spouse?” + +“Heavens, no! That’s Bob Crickle, who wrote the book of _T’wee-t’we_. +Jock Larnoch spends every other week ‘at the works’; there never was +such a lucky girl as Olive!” + +Again, with a sensation almost of despair, Ivy thought of Rushworth, +and of all that he might have meant in her life by now if he hadn’t +been so--so old-fashioned and queer in his ideas. + +The Lextons had been settled down in London for nearly two months, and +Jervis was going to Rushworth’s City office each morning. As for Ivy, +she was once more a popular member of the happy-go-lucky, while for +the most part financially solid, set with whom she had danced, played +bridge, lunched, and supped through life, in the days when she and her +husband were still living on what remained of Jervis’s fortune. + +But woman does not live by amusement alone. Ivy loved being loved, so +she had “made it up” with Roger Gretorex. + +Rushworth was far away, and though he wrote to her by every mail, his +letters, as she sometimes pettishly told herself, might have been read +aloud at Charing Cross. So it was that, though she had really done +with Gretorex, she still went, now and again, to Ferry Place, but far +less often than in the days when she had been utterly down on her +luck, and at odds with Fate. + +And yet, though the Lextons’ troubles seemed over, black care was +again beginning to dog Ivy’s light footsteps, for she was once more +what she called, to herself, very hard up. + +True, the couple were now living in what appeared to Ivy’s husband +extreme comfort, and even luxury. Not only was their flat one of the +best in the fine block called the Duke of Kent Mansion, charmingly +furnished; but an excellent cook, and a good day-maid had been left +there by Miles Rushworth’s cousins. So what might have been called the +Lextons’ home-life ran as if on wheels. + +From the moment, however, that Ivy had come back to London, secure in +the knowledge that her husband was now earning a thousand pounds a +year, paid monthly, she had again fallen into the way of buying, or, +better still, of ordering on account, any pretty costly trifle, any +becoming frock or hat, that took her fancy. She also, in a way that +seemed modest to herself, had at once begun to entertain. + +It was such fun to give lively little luncheon parties to her women +friends--lunch being followed as often as not by bridge! One, +sometimes even two, bridge tables would be set out in the attractive +drawing-room and, in due course, a bountiful tea would be served by +the smiling day-maid, for those of Ivy’s guests who were not afraid of +getting fat. + +The good-natured old cook had not been used to so much work, and she +had very soon declared, not unreasonably, that she must have extra +help in the kitchen. + +Lexton, who was rather pathetically anxious “to make good,” always +went down to the City each morning by the Underground. But he came +back by omnibus, and he invariably dropped in at his club on his way +home, and, as he was an open-hearted fellow, he often asked one of his +new business acquaintances to drop in too. That, also, meant +entertaining, but on a far more modest scale than that in which Ivy +indulged. + +Though Mrs. Jervis Lexton had learnt long ago the fine art of living +on credit, there are a great many things which even in London a +prosperous young couple with a good address cannot obtain, as it were, +for nothing. Each week many pounds slipped through pretty, popular +Ivy’s fingers, and she honestly could not have told you how or why. So +it was inevitable that she should again begin to feel short of +money--short, even, of petty cash. + +Often she told herself that it was maddening to feel that if Rushworth +were in England she could almost certainly have had all the money she +needed, and that without too great a sacrifice of her pride, or, what +was far more important, his good opinion of her. Just before leaving +for South Africa he had given her a hundred pounds as “a birthday +gift.” How good he was, how generous! Her heart thrilled with real +gratitude when she thought of Miles Rushworth. + + +Late in the same day that his wife had lunched at the Embassy Club, +Lexton, who was going out to what he called a stag party that evening, +came back from the City to find an unpleasantly threatening letter, +this time from a tailor to whom he had owed for years a huge bill, and +who had evidently just heard of his new-found prosperity. + +For once Ivy’s husband looked ruffled and cross, and she, also for +once, felt very angry indeed. Jervis had begun, so she told herself +with rage, to put on airs, just because he had a job--a job that she +was too clever and tactful ever to remind him was entirely owing to +her friendship with his employer. + +At last he left the flat and, with a feeling of relief, she went off, +too, by omnibus, to the tiny house where Roger Gretorex lived and +practised his profession. It was in what might have been called a +slum, though each of the mid-Victorian, two-storied, cottage-like +dwellings were now inhabited by decent working people and their +families. + +Ivy had not been to No. 6 Ferry Place for nearly a fortnight, and her +lover had written her a long, reproachful letter, imploring her to +come and see him there, if for only a few moments. It made him feel so +wretched, so he wrote, never to see her now, except in the company of +people and in surroundings which filled him with contemptuous dislike, +or, in a sense worse still, only in the presence of her husband. + +When everything was going well with Ivy Lexton, she felt bored, often +even irritated, with Roger Gretorex and his great love for her. But +the moment she was under the weather and worried, as she was again +beginning to be, then she found it a comfort to be with a man who not +only worshipped her, but who never wanted her to make any effort to +amuse or flatter him, as did all the other men with whom she was now +once more thrown in contact. + +So it was that this late afternoon, immediately after Jervis had left +the flat, she telephoned and told the enraptured Gretorex that as she +happened to have this evening free, she would come and have dinner +with him at Ferry Place. + +And yet, as she sat in the almost empty omnibus on her way to +Westminster, her heart and her imagination were full of Miles +Rushworth, and not once did she even throw a fleeting thought to the +man she was going to see. Gretorex had become to Ivy Lexton what she +had once heard a friend of hers funnily describe as a kind of +“Stepney” to her husband. Sometimes she felt that she really preferred +Jervis to Roger. Jervis was so kindly, easygoing, unexacting. + +Still to-night she felt cross with Jervis, because of the scrap they +had had over the tailor’s bill, so the thought of secret revenge was +sweet. + +But the image securely throned in her inmost heart was that of Miles +Rushworth. + +The knowledge that Rushworth, a man possessed of great, to her +imagination limitless, wealth, was loving her, longing for her, and +yet, owing to his oversensitive, absurdly scrupulous, conscience, +hopelessly out of her reach, awoke in Ivy Lexton a feeling of fierce, +passionate exasperation. + +At last she stepped lightly out of the omnibus, the conductor, and an +old gentleman who had been her only fellow-passenger, eagerly +assisting her. She smiled at them both. Even the most trifling tribute +to her beauty always gave her a touch of genuine pleasure. She was +looking very pretty to-night in a charming frock, and in her hand she +held the curious little bolster bag which Rushworth had bought for her +at Dieppe. + + +Eight o’clock boomed from Big Ben, and Roger Gretorex, his arm round +Ivy’s shoulder, led her into the tiny dining-room, where had been +prepared in haste an attractive little meal. She had been what the man +who loved her with so devoted and absorbing a passion, called “kind,” +and he felt happy and at peace. + +After they had finished dinner they sat on at table for a while, and, +as she looked across at him, Ivy told herself that her lover was +indeed a splendid-looking man--a man many a woman would envy her. + +“Sometimes,” he said in a low voice, “I dream such a wonderful dream, +my dearest. I dreamt it last night----” + +She looked at him roguishly. “Tell me your dream!” + +“I dreamt that you were free, and that we were married, you and I----” + +She made no answer to that remark, only shook her head, a little +pettishly. For one thing, she always felt a trifle cross, as well as +bored, when Gretorex talked in what she called to herself a sloppy, +sentimental way. Could he seriously suppose that, if she had the good +fortune to be what he called “free,” she would marry a poverty-stricken +doctor who was forced to live and work in a slum? He evidently did +suppose that; and the fact that he did so made her feel uncomfortable. + +“I don’t set out to be particularly good, Roger, but I do think it +awfully wrong to talk like that!” + +He said slowly, “I agree, it is.” + +“It makes me feel I oughtn’t to come and see you like this, in your +own house. Jervis would be very much put out if he knew I ever came +here.” + +Gretorex, wincing inwardly, made no answer to that observation. +Sometimes this woman, who was all his life, would say something that +made him experience a violent feeling of recoil. + +She had got up as she spoke, and with a sensation of relief she put on +her hat. It was still early, and she had suddenly remembered an +amusing bachelor girl named Judy Swinston, who lived not far from +here, in Queen Anne’s Mansions. Judy had said that she was always at +home after dinner on Thursdays, so why shouldn’t she, Ivy, go along +there now? She could telephone from a call office to find out if it +was really true that the Bohemian crowd who formed Judy Swinston’s +circle didn’t bother to dress. + +In some ways Ivy Lexton was very conventional. She would have disliked +making part of any gathering which could be called a party, in her +present day-frock and walking shoes, charming as were both the frock +and the shoes. It was a perfect St. Martin’s summer evening, more like +June than the first of November. + +“You’re not going yet?” asked Gretorex, in a tone almost of anguish. + +“Jervis said he’d try and be back by half-past ten, so I knew I’d have +to be home early.” + +“I see. All right. You won’t mind my walking with you a little way?” + +And then she turned and faced him, angry at his obtuseness. How +utterly selfish men were! + +“I should mind--mind very much indeed! Whenever we’ve left the place +together, I’ve always felt uncomfortable. Taxis go all sorts of ways +nowadays--just to make their fares bigger, I suppose. The other day a +taxi brought Jervis and me down close here, past the end of this +street, though it was quite out of our way. I should hate it, if he +met us walking together at this time of night. He would think it so +queer.” + +Again he said sorely, “I see. All right.” + +Suddenly there came the sound of raucous cries echoing down Ferry +Place. + +“… Verdict in the Branksome Case.… All the winners!” + +“I thought they weren’t allowed to cry papers now?” said Ivy, as the +shouts drew nearer and nearer. + +“They cry them down here. As for the Branksome Case, to my mind the +verdict is a foregone conclusion. The man will hang, and they’ll let +the woman off--though she ought to hang too!” + +“A lot of people were talking about the Branksome mystery where I was +lunching to-day,” exclaimed Ivy. “I knew nothing about it, so I felt +rather a fool. The truth is, I’m not a bit interested in murders, +Roger. I think it’s morbid to want to know about such things.” + +“Do you, darling? Then I’m afraid I’m morbid. This Branksome Case is +of peculiar interest to every medical man, owing to the simple fact +that there is a great deal of secret poisoning going on nowadays.” + +“What a horrid idea!” And Ivy Lexton did indeed think it very horrid. + +“Horrid, no doubt. But I’m afraid unquestionably true. In fact I heard +the question put only the other day, as to what a doctor ought to do +if he suspects anything of the sort is going on?” + +She looked at him with a certain curiosity. “What would you do, +Roger?” + +“I’ve never been able to make up my mind. Of course, this Branksome +story was complicated by the fact that two were in it--a husband and a +wife. They’d got everything they could out of the woman’s lover, so +they made up their minds to do away with him. They were awfully +clever, and it’s a marvel they were ever found out.” + +“How did they do it?” she asked, eager at last. + +“With arsenic--fly papers.” + +“Fly papers?” + +He laughed. “Wonderful what people will do sometimes, isn’t it? +Steeping fly papers in water has long been a common way of ridding +oneself of a tiresome husband. There’s arsenic in almost everything we +use--at least, that’s what’s said.” + +“Arsenic?” Ivy pronounced the word very carefully. It was a new word +in her limited vocabulary. + +He smiled across at her. Every moment of her presence was precious to +him, so he talked on, eager too. “There’s plenty of the stuff in my +surgery, at any rate. It’s a splendid tonic, as well as a poison.” + +“What a funny thing!” and she smiled at him, apparently rather amused +at the notion. + +Looking back, for even Ivy Lexton looked back now and again to certain +crucial moments of her life, she realised it must have been at that +very moment that a certain as yet vague and formless plan slipped into +her mind. + +“As a matter of fact,” Gretorex smiled back at her, “I’ve got to make +up and send off this very evening a mixture which will contain +arsenic----” + +“I must be off now,” Ivy said, a thought regretfully. + +They walked down the short passage, and through the two doors which +separated the house from the surgery. Once there he turned up the +light. Anything--anything to keep her a few moments longer in his +company! + +He went quickly across from the door to the left corner of the bare, +low-ceilinged room, now his surgery, which had once been an outhouse. +There he unlocked the cupboard where he kept his dangerous drugs, and +lifted down a jar on which was printed on a red label the word +“Arsenic.” Placing it on a deal table above which was a hanging +bookcase, he exclaimed, “If you would like to see, darling, what----” + +And then there came a thunderous knock at the front door of the tiny +house. + +“Wait one moment! Don’t go yet, dearest,” he said hastily. “I won’t be +a minute!” + +He rushed away, though even in his haste he did not forget to shut +both the doors which separated the surgery from the rest of the house. + +Ivy Lexton gave a quick look round the sordid-looking stone-flagged +walled space, through which her eager little feet had so often carried +her last winter, at a time when she had been in love, really in love, +with Roger Gretorex. + +She noted that there was no blind to the little square window. But, +even in the unlikely event of anyone looking in through that window, +no one standing outside could see, while she stood by the table, what +she was doing, or was about to do. + +Standing very still, she listened. From the consulting-room at the +other end of the passage there came the sound of voices, raised in +argument. + +Hesitatingly she took up the jar Gretorex had placed on the table. +Then she looked at it with avid curiosity. How strange and exciting to +know that Death was in that jar--prisoned, but ready to escape and +become the servant of any quick-witted, determined human being. + +When, at last, she put the jar down again, she noticed what she had +not seen till now, that a glass spoon lay on the table. + +Once more she looked round the bare surgery. Once more she listened +intently, only to hear again Gretorex’s voice, far away, raised in +argument. + +All at once and in feverish haste she began unscrewing the top of the +jar. Once this was achieved, she pressed the jewelled top of her +bolster bag, and as it sprang open, she took her powder puff out of +its _pochette_. Then, taking the glass spoon off the table, with its +help she began shaking into the little white leather-lined pocket a +quantity of the powder which she knew to be a deadly poison. + +After snapping-to the bag, she replaced its cap on the jar labelled +“Arsenic” and screwed it tight. Then she stepped back from the table a +little way, and stood quite still, thinking of what she had just done. + +Why had she done that--to herself she called it “funny” thing? Deep in +her heart she knew quite well the answer to her own wordless question. +But she did not admit her purpose, even to herself. + +All at once she heard sounds just behind her--the sounds made by +slippered, shuffling feet. + +Filled with a sudden shock of sick terror, she turned slowly round to +see Roger Gretorex’s old charwoman, Mrs. Huntley, standing uncertainly +in the middle of the room. + +The woman had evidently let herself in from the back alley with a +latchkey. But how long had she been here? And how much had she seen? + +“Why, Mrs. Huntley,” said Ivy in a shaken voice. “You did startle me!” + +“Did I, ma’am? I beg your pardon, I’m sure. I just come in to see if +the doctor wanted anything,” the old woman spoke in a pleasant, +refined voice. + +“He’ll be here in a minute----” + +“I won’t disturb him now, ma’am. I’ll come in later.” + +Opening the door through which she had entered, she slipped through it +into the gathering darkness. Then she shut the door noiselessly behind +her. + +Ivy moved again close to the deal table. She felt violently disturbed, +even terrified. Yet the old woman had looked absolutely placid, though +a little taken aback at finding a lady where she had expected to see +nobody, excepting maybe her employer, and him only if he were engaged +in making up medicines. + +Hardly knowing what she was doing, Ivy Lexton glanced up at the row of +books in the shabby little bookcase above the table by which she was +standing, and she saw that among them was one entitled, “Poisons.” + +She was just about to take it down when she heard quick footsteps in +the short passage, and Gretorex opened the surgery door. + +“I won’t be more than a few moments now! You will stay, my dearest, +won’t you, till I’ve done with this chap?” + +“Of course I will. Don’t hurry,” she answered, in a soft, kindly tone. + +She took down the book and hurriedly she turned to the index. + +Yes! Here was the word she sought. There were a number of +references--half a dozen at least--and she turned up, “Effects of +Arsenic; page 154.” + +A famous case of secret poisoning was quoted, with every detail set +out, and she read it with intense, absorbed interest. It told her what +she had so much wanted to know, and feared to ask Roger Gretorex, how +a secret poisoner went to work, and also how long the process took +before--before--even to herself she did not end the question.… + +As she put the volume back on the bookshelf her mind travelled into +the future--the now possible, now probable, future. + +Standing there, in Gretorex’s barely furnished surgery, she saw +herself the cherished wife of Miles Rushworth, and not only rich +beyond the dreams of even her desire, but also secure from every +conceivable earthly ill. + +Had Ivy Lexton belonged to another generation, she would doubtless +have called what had just happened to herself “providential.” As it +was, she just thought it a piece of astounding, almost incredible, +good luck. + +She next took down from the shelf a thin little book dealing with +infantile paralysis. But she had only just time to open it, and to +glance, with a feeling of shrinking distaste, at one of the +illustrations, when Gretorex burst into the surgery. “The poor chap’s +gone at last! What are you reading, darling?” + +“A book about children, dear.” + +There came a pathetic look into her eyes, and Gretorex gently took the +thin volume from her hand. Then he kissed that lovely, soft little +hand. + +She had told him, very early in their acquaintance, that her husband +hated the idea of children, as if they had a child it would surely +interfere with the kind of idle, gay life that he, Jervis, loved. For +the hundredth time Gretorex cursed Lexton for a heartless brute. + +She allowed him to take her in his arms. For a few moments they clung +together, and she kissed him with real passion, responding as she had +not responded for what seemed to Gretorex an eternity of frustrate +longing. + +Ivy had been frightened, very much frightened, just now. It was +surprisingly comfortable and reassuring to feel his strong arms round +her, to know that he loved her--loved her. + +“Did you buy an evening paper?” she asked at last, disengaging herself +from his close embrace. + +“No, but the chap who came to see me had one in his hand, and I +believe he left it behind. Would you like me to give it you to read in +the omnibus?” + +“It would hurt my eyes to do that. I was only wondering what had +happened about that Branksome Case?” + +“I can tell you that without looking at the paper, darling. In fact I +did tell you--but you’ve forgotten, my pet.” + +“What was it that you told me?” + +“That they’ll hang the man, and let the woman off!” + +He spoke quite confidently. “There’s not a doubt but that she really +planned the whole thing out. But he, poor wretch, bought the fly +papers. Most of the secret poisoning that goes on is done by women.” + +“How dreadful!” + +“A great many dreadful things go on in this strange world, my darling +love.” + +“You mean things that are not found out?” + +He nodded, almost gaily. He was glad, so glad, to find a subject that +interested her, and that might make her stay a few moments longer. + +So, “I’m afraid that only one secret poisoner is found out for six +that go scot free,” he went on. “Even now it’s difficult to tell the +difference between the effect produced by, say, arsenic, and a very +ordinary ailment. A post-mortem only takes place if there’s already +reason to suspect foul play.” + +“Post-mortem?” + +The word meant nothing to Ivy Lexton. + +“In the vast majority of cases the danger is negligible,” he +continued. “The secret poisoner, especially if a woman, is never even +suspected, and if she is----” + +“If she is?” echoed Ivy uncertainly. + +“The doctor, nine times out of ten, gives her the benefit of the +doubt!” + +He ended his careless sentence with a laugh. It was of her, of her +dear nearness, of her kind, soft, loving manner, that he was thinking, +and not at all of what he was saying. + +“Would you let her off, Roger?” + +He grew suddenly grave. “Well, no, I don’t think I would. You see it +wouldn’t be right. For one thing, she might try the same game over +again.” + +She looked at him coldly. Few men were as set on doing right as was +apparently this man. + +Then she smiled, a curiously subtle, sweet little smile. She knew, if +no one else did, the weak place in his defences. It was pleasant to +know that no other woman would ever have that knowledge. Ivy believed, +rightly or wrongly, that a man does not love twice as this man, +Gretorex, loved her. + +“Well, I must go now,” she said at last. And then, for she saw the +sudden darkening of his face, “You may as well come with me as far as +the corner of Great Smith Street, Roger. It’s quite dark now.” + +Once more she allowed him to kiss her. Once more there came from her +the response which had now for so long been lacking, and of which the +lack made him feel so desolate. + +As they walked along the now shrouded, deserted little back streets of +old Westminster, Ivy Lexton was very gentle in her manner to the man +who loved her with so whole-hearted and selfless a devotion. + +She had quite decided that soon they must part, never to meet again. +And yet, though Gretorex would never know it, it was to him, albeit +indirectly, that she would owe her splendid freedom, and all that +freedom was to bring to her. It was that knowledge, maybe, that made +her manner so gentle and so kind. + +When at last Jervis Lexton came in, he found his wife playing patience +in the pretty sitting-room where she spent so little of her time. + +He felt a little surprised, for unless she happened to be out, as was +the case six nights out of seven, Ivy always went to bed early. + +“Thank God, I’m safe home again!” he exclaimed. “It was the most awful +show. The grub wasn’t bad, but the champagne was like syrup. I’ve +‘some thirst,’ I can tell you!” + +“Wait a minute, and”--she smiled a gay little smile--“I’ll mix you a +highball, old boy. Would you like a Bizzy Izzy, just as a treat?” + +“The answer, ma’am, is ‘yes’!” + +She went off into the dining-room, and took from the fine old mahogany +brass-bound wine-cooler a bottle of rye whisky and a bottle of sherry. +Then, carefully, she poured a small wineglass of each into a tall +glass. + +With the glass in her hand she hurried down the passage, and so into +the bright, clean, empty kitchen. There she soon found some ice, and, +after having chipped off a number of small pieces, she waited a moment +and listened intently, for she did not want to be surprised in what +she was about to do. + +But the old cook was lying sound asleep in the bedroom which lay +beyond the kitchen. Ivy could even hear her long, drawn-out snores. + +Opening a cupboard door very, very quietly, she found a syphon, and +filled up the glass almost to the top with soda-water. Then, quickly, +she mixed in with a clean wooden spoon a good pinch of the powder she +had secreted in the _pochette_ of her bag. + +“A perfect Bizzy Izzy!” Ivy called out gaily as she swiftly went down +the corridor, holding in her steady hand the tall glass, now full +almost to the brim. + +Through the hall and back into the sitting-room she hurried, and then +she watched, with an odd sensation of excitement, her husband toss off +the delicious iced drink. + +“This soda fizz has got a bitter tang to it,” he exclaimed, “but it’s +none the worse for that!” + +Ivy stayed awake for a long time that night. She had suddenly begun to +feel afraid, she hardly knew of what. But at last she dropped off to +sleep. + +At nine o’clock the next morning she awoke. What was it that had +happened last night? Then she remembered. + +Leaping out of bed she rushed across the dressing-table, on which +there lay the mother-of-pearl bolster bag she had had out with her +last night. Opening it she took out her handkerchief, her powder puff, +and her purse. Then she put the bag, now quite empty save for the +white powder the tiny white leather-lined inner recess contained, into +an old despatch-box which had belonged to her father. + +It was the only “lock up” Ivy Lexton possessed; at no time of her life +had she been so foolish as to keep dangerous love-letters more than a +very short time. She put the despatch-box in what was the empty half +of a huge Victorian inlaid wardrobe. Then she got into bed again, and +rang the bell. + +A moment later the day-maid opened the bedroom door. + +“Mr. Lexton was ill in the night, ma’am. He thinks he ate something +last evening that didn’t agree with him. He asked me to tell you that +he’s not going to the office this morning.” + + + + + Chapter Six + +It was the eighth of November, a day which, though she never +realised it, altered the whole of Ivy Lexton’s life. And this was the +more extraordinary because she was usually quick enough to realise the +importance of everything that concerned herself. + +But on this day she was feeling secretly excited, anxious, and what to +herself she called “nervy,” for her husband’s illness, though it had +only lasted just over a week, seemed to her intolerably +long-drawn-out. + +Jervis Lexton, poor devil, was putting up a grim, instinctive fight +for life. Coming of a long line of sporting, out-of-door, country +squires and their placid wives, he was magnificently healthy, +hard-bitten, and possessed of reserves of physical strength on which +he was now drawing daily larger and larger drafts. + +On the morning when she had first been told that Jervis had been taken +ill in the night, Ivy had gone down to Rushworth’s city office. There, +as she put it afterwards when telling the invalid of her interview +with Mr. James, the man he called his boss, “red carpets had been put +down for her,” and no difficulty at all had been made as to Lexton’s +staying away. + +As a matter of fact, the young man had very soon been sized up as +being, from a business point of view, hopeless. But his pleasant, easy +manners, and his inexhaustible fund of small talk and of good stories, +amused the boss. Also--and that, naturally, was the one thing that +mattered--Jervis Lexton was a pet of Miles Rushworth. + +After Mrs. Jervis Lexton’s visit to the office, however, what had +seemed a mystery had been at any rate partially explained. What man, +so Rushworth’s London agent asked himself smiling, could resist that +deliciously pretty and sweet-mannered little woman? No wonder a job +had been invented for her husband, who was, after all, a decent chap. + +A day was to come when Mr. James would try to remember how Ivy Lexton +had impressed him, and when all he would succeed in remembering, very +vividly, was how agreeable that impression had been, and how +touchingly the lovely lady had revealed her devotion to her husband, +fortunate Jervis Lexton. + +On the second day Jervis had said he felt so queer that he would like +to see their old friend, Dr. Lancaster. And by now, after five days, +that genial general practitioner, though utterly unsuspicious of the +truth, was nevertheless becoming slightly uneasy at the persistence of +the illness. + +He had insisted, much against Ivy’s will, on sending in a nurse, a +placid, kindly woman named Bradfield, who had often nursed for the +doctor before. + +Small wonder that the patient’s wife was also becoming just a little +fretful, and more than a little anxious. How long, she often asked +herself restlessly, was her ordeal going to last? + +Yet another fact added to Ivy Lexton’s discomfort during those long +days of waiting. + +That fact, or rather problem, concerned Roger Gretorex. She found it +increasingly difficult to prevent him from coming to the flat. When +alone with her he made no secret of his dislike of meeting her husband +on “Hail fellow, well met!” terms, and yet he longed to be with her +every moment of his scanty leisure. + +At times she felt she almost hated him, for by now her whole mind was +filled with the thought of Rushworth, and of all that she felt +convinced Rushworth was going to mean in her life. But she could not +yet afford to break with Gretorex. Afford, indeed, was still the right +word, for again he was supplying her with what had always been to Ivy +the staff of life--petty cash. + +But she came to one great resolution, and that was to go no more to +the humble little house in the Westminster slum with which she had now +a secret, terrifying association. And so, as her slightest wish was +law to Gretorex, the two began meeting now in a picture gallery, or, +when it was a fine day, in Kensington Gardens, which was conveniently +near the charming flat the Lextons owed to the generous kindness of +Miles Rushworth. + +So far Ivy had managed to conceal her husband’s illness from Gretorex. +With regard to that mysterious illness, it was of her lover, and of +her lover alone, that up to now she had felt afraid. + +As a matter of fact Roger Gretorex had already completely forgotten +that idle talk of theirs concerning the Branksome poisoning mystery. +But every word that had been uttered during the evening when she had +had supper at Ferry Place, and every moment that she had spent in the +surgery, remained uncannily present to Ivy’s mind. + + +And now, on this eighth of November, she had been out for an hour, +looking into the shop windows which line Kensington High Street. She +had even gone into one famous emporium and bought a new, and very +expensive, black model hat. Though quite unobtrusive in shape, it was +at once as simple and as unusual as only a French model hat can be. +She had felt that she might have cause to be really very much put out +if that perfect little hat were bought, over her head so to speak, +during the next few days. + +At last, feeling more cheerful, she walked briskly back to the Duke of +Kent Mansion. The pleasant-spoken porter--all men, even lift porters, +were always pleasant-spoken to Ivy Lexton--took her up in the lift. +She let herself in with her latchkey, for she always liked slipping in +and out of the flat alone. + +As she went through the hall towards her charming bedroom, the door of +her husband’s room opened, and Nurse Bradfield came out, looking +flustered and worried. + +“Mr. Lexton doesn’t seem so well, and as we haven’t seen Dr. Lancaster +for two days, I telephoned to say I’d like him to come now. But oh, +Mrs. Lexton, such a dreadful thing has happened!” + +Under her delicately applied rouge, the colour drifted from Ivy’s +face. + +“Something dreadful?” she repeated mechanically. + +“Yes, indeed, for Dr. Lancaster has gone and broken his leg playing +golf! He was staying with his brother-in-law at Seaford, for one night +only, but now he’s laid up there, and they don’t know for how long.” + +Ivy’s first feeling was one of relief. She had been so dreadfully +frightened just now lest “something” should have been found out. + +But even so, as the nurse went on speaking, there did come over her a +slight feeling of misgiving. + +“However, Dr. Berwick, the doctor who works in with Dr. Lancaster, so +to speak, is coming round instead!” Nurse Bradfield continued. + +“I hope he’s nice,” said Ivy earnestly. + +The accident to Dr. Lancaster was real bad luck. He was a dear old +thing, and so truly fond of her. When they had been almost penniless, +he had attended her twice for nothing. + +There came a curious look over the nurse’s face. She hesitated, and +then made up her mind to be frank. + +“To tell you the truth, Mrs. Lexton, I don’t much like Dr. Berwick! +But then I’m prejudiced, for I once had a nasty little scrap with him +when I was nursing another case for Dr. Lancaster. I consider that Dr. +Berwick was very rude to me.” + +“How horrid of him!” exclaimed Ivy sympathetically, although she had +not really been attending to what Nurse Bradfield was saying. + +But she did listen, with startled attention, when the nurse suddenly +added: + +“However, he’s said to be very clever, and he’s much more up-to-date +than Dr. Lancaster. I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if Dr. Berwick +finds out what really is the matter with Mr. Lexton!” + +Ivy stared fearfully at the speaker, and again there swept over her a +strong feeling of misgiving, if not of fear. + + +Thus was effected the entrance of Dr. Berwick into the lives of Ivy +Lexton and her husband. + +In spite of his shrewdness and long professional experience, it took +the new doctor some days to become even vaguely puzzled--so true is it +that murder is the one chink in the armour of a civilised +community--over certain unusual features in his patient’s case. + +On the occasion of his first visit to Jervis Lexton, Dr. Berwick had +been in a great hurry, and though he had seen his new patient’s wife +for a few moments, he had impatiently dismissed her from his mind as +a foolish, frivolous little woman. Indeed, considering the manner of +man he was, he could hardly have told, after that brief interview in +the dimly lighted hall, whether young Mrs. Lexton was pretty, or just +ordinary, though he had noticed, with disapproval, that she was very +much made up. + +Ivy on her side, if feeling slightly surprised by the doctor’s lack of +interest in her attractive self, was at the same time reassured by the +fact that Dr. Berwick evidently thought her husband only suffering +from a temporary, if obstinate ailment, brought on, most probably, by +something he had eaten during the evening which had preceded the night +he had first been taken ill. + +And yet her feeling of misgiving prevailed so far that she +deliberately tried to keep out of the new doctor’s way. This was quite +easy, for she was out to most meals, and owing to Lexton’s illness she +had stopped giving her pleasant little bridge-parties at the flat. + +But as the days dragged on, as Jervis Lexton, instead of responding to +treatment, grew steadily worse, Dr. Berwick began to feel really +puzzled. He made up his mind one day to see Mrs. Lexton. On that day +Ivy was going to be motored to Brighton by a new admirer, and she had +said she would come in after lunch to fetch her fur coat. So the +doctor, believing she would be back soon, waited for her. But the +moments became minutes, and the minutes mounted up to close on half an +hour. + +Feeling very much annoyed, he was just about to leave the flat, when +Ivy walked into the drawing-room, looking, as he instantly +acknowledged to himself, charmingly pretty and gay. + +“I waited to see you, Mrs. Lexton, because I am not satisfied with +your husband’s condition. From what the nurse tells me, Dr. Lancaster +was puzzled too, though he said nothing of that in the notes he sent +me concerning the case.” + +Then, almost in spite of himself, he was touched by the look of +distress which at once shadowed her lovely face, and it was in a +kinder tone that he went on: + +“If he does not pick up in the next day or two, I should very much +like to have another opinion. Will you try to persuade him to see a +specialist?” + +“Of course I will,” she said quickly. “Though he can’t bear any fuss +made over him, poor old boy! He very much objected to our having a +nurse; but she’s such a comfort to me.” + +Dr. Berwick disliked Nurse Bradfield. He thought her slow and +old-fashioned. So now he told himself that, though she might be a +comfort to Mrs. Lexton, he would far prefer a different kind of nurse +to tend one as ill as he now realised Jervis Lexton to be. + +He looked fixedly at his patient’s wife, debating within himself +whether he ought to impart to her a suspicion which was beginning, +only beginning, to touch his mind. Now and again, during the last two +days, he had felt a slight, half-doubting suspicion as to whether +certain untoward symptoms could possibly mean that Lexton was +absorbing some form of irritant poison. But even to hint or half-imply +such possibility is a very serious thing to do from a doctor’s point +of view, and so he fell back on what seemed the wiser course of +recommending a second opinion. + +“Do you think Dr. Lancaster will be away long?” asked Ivy. “He’s such +an old friend of mine,” and she smiled, a pretty, disarming little +smile. “I know you’re ever so much more clever than he is----” + +Dr. Berwick interrupted harshly, “That’s quite untrue! Dr. Lancaster +has had ten times the experience I’ve had, and I take my hat off to +him every time. But I fear he’s not likely to be back for a long time. +You see, he’s no longer a young man, and it is a great chance for him +to be invalided away from home, and where he can’t be got at by the +kind attentions of friends and--patients.” + + +The next day an untoward thing happened which, though it seemed at the +time of very little account, was yet to prove of considerable moment. + +Roger Gretorex ran across a Mrs. Horley, whom he had often met in +Ivy’s company in the now far-away days when he would go anywhere, and +everywhere, just to see her, and to hold her hand for a moment. Mrs. +Horley naturally alluded to Jervis Lexton’s illness, and was evidently +much surprised to find that it was all news to him. To everyone but +Gretorex, Ivy constantly mentioned her husband’s unfortunate +condition, and expressed some measure of anxiety. + +Though only half believing Mrs. Horley’s tale, or rather believing +that Lexton was suffering from some slight indisposition, Gretorex +went off to the flat, only to find that Ivy was out, as usual. + +The cook had opened the front door. She knew Gretorex quite well by +sight, for in the early days of the Lextons being there, he had been +an occasional visitor. + +He listened to her wordy account of “the master’s” illness; and then +the nurse, hearing voices in the hall, opened her patient’s door. + +“Nurse! This is Dr. Gretorex, a great friend of the master and +missus,” said cook, retreating down the corridor towards her kitchen. + +Nurse Bradfield, who found life very dull just now, was pleased to see +the fine-looking young man--a doctor, too. + +“Will you ask Mr. Lexton if he would care to see me?” asked Gretorex. + +He felt he could do nothing less, as he was there, and Ivy was out. + +Poor Jervis eagerly, even joyfully, welcomed the suggestion, and the +nurse left the two young men together. They talked of all kinds of +things--things that interested Lexton rather than Gretorex. + +At last the visitor rose. “I’ll be going now----” + +“Must you? I get so bored lying here. I wish, old chap, you could +think of something that would make me feel the thing again? I don’t +think much of Ivy’s Dr. Lancaster. Besides, he’s just broken his leg!” + +Then he went into details of what had become his wretched case, and, +after having heard him out, Gretorex produced a paper pad and a +fountain pen. Rapidly he began writing out a prescription, and he was +so absorbed in what he was doing that he did not hear the bedroom door +open. + +Dr. Berwick, who was tired, having been up all night over an anxious +case, stared with anger, as well as amazement, at his as yet unknown +colleague. + +“Hallo!” cried Jervis, trying to lift himself up from the pillow, for +he had become very weak. “Here’s a lark! An impromptu consultation, +eh?” + +Then, as even he realised that Dr. Berwick looked like a thundercloud, +as he afterwards expressed it to the nurse, he went on, +apologetically: “I was joking of course! Gretorex, this is Dr. +Berwick, who has taken over Dr. Lancaster’s patients.” + +Then, looking at Berwick, he went on: “Dr. Gretorex is a great friend +of mine and Ivy’s. He came in just now, and I told him about my poor +dry throat and asked him if he could think of something that might +give me a little relief. You don’t mind, do you?” + +Dr. Berwick waited a moment. Then he said, in far from a pleasant +tone: + +“Well, to tell you the truth, I do mind. You are my patient, Mr. +Lexton, not Dr. Gretorex’s patient.” + +Gretorex rose from the chair on which he had been sitting close to the +sick man’s bed. The colour rushed up all over his dark face. He said +stiffly, cursing Lexton for a fool the while: + +“Mr. Lexton had just told me that Dr. Lancaster has broken his leg. I +had no idea that someone else had already taken over the case----” + +There followed an awkward silence between the two men. Dr. Berwick was +waiting for the formal apology which the other did not consider it +necessary to tender to him. + +At last Gretorex took the piece of paper on which he had written out a +prescription for a soothing mixture and tore it in two. + +“Well, Lexton,” he exclaimed, “I’ll be off now, leaving you, I’m sure, +in excellent hands! Tell Mrs. Lexton I came in. I’ve been so awfully +busy this last fortnight that I haven’t had a minute to myself. I’ve +taken over for a friend a practice in Westminster for a bit. It’s in a +slum, and means a lot of work----” + +“And precious little pay, eh?” said Lexton. + +Roger Gretorex smiled grimly, “But it’s all experience.” + +Then he went out of the room, with just a cool nod to the other +doctor. + + +It was a very different Dr. Berwick who at eight that same evening +finished eating his well-cooked, daintily-served dinner. Janey Berwick +was what her husband’s old friends called, with truth, a thoroughly +nice woman. After their early marriage she and her husband had had a +bitter struggle, but that had only made them come the closer to one +another, and now that he was beginning to be really successful, she +was determined to make him, so far as lay in her power, comfortable. + +She wore to-night her prettiest evening frock, and anyone, seeing them +sitting there side by side in front of their cheerful fire in their +pleasant sitting-room, would have thought them a pair of engaged +lovers, rather than a couple who had been wedded for close on twelve +years. + +Janey Berwick still looked a young woman, for she had been only +nineteen when she had given up a comfortable, even luxurious, home, to +throw in her lot with the young man who till two or three months +before their wedding had been still a medical student. + +He bore more signs than did his wife of the struggle they had gone +through. However, that struggle was now a thing of the past, or, at +least, so they both had good reason to think. + +An intelligent doctor either shares everything or nothing with his +wife. Berwick shared everything and now he was engaged in telling her +about Jervis Lexton, and how puzzled he was fast becoming over +Lexton’s curious condition. He also told her how surprised, not to say +indignant, he had been to discover, when he had gone to see his +patient to-day, another doctor there, actually prescribing for +Lexton--true, only as a friend, but acting, even so, in a most +irregular fashion! + +“I think I made him feel what I thought of such conduct,” he said with +satisfaction. + +Then suddenly he asked her a question. + +“D’you remember that your people took a shooting in Sussex many years +ago, when I first knew you, from a man call Gretorex?” + +“Of course I do, darling! Anchorford was the name of the place.” + +She was puzzled at the sudden change in the conversation. + +“Well, this young chap I found prescribing for Lexton is Roger +Gretorex! I had a sort of feeling I’d seen him before.” + +“But what an extraordinary thing--I mean, that he should be a doctor.” + +“I don’t see why. Only the old house and that bit of shooting belonged +to them, even then. D’you remember Mrs. Gretorex? She was very much +the _grande dame_----” + +“Yes, she was in a way, but so really kind. She took a great fancy to +me,” said Janey Berwick slowly. + +“I don’t think she approved of me. She thought you ought to do +better.” + +Berwick’s wife smiled. It was true that Mrs. Gretorex hadn’t much +cared for the dour, silent, medical student who was obviously in love +with her attractive young friend. + +“It all comes back to me. They were fearfully poor; but Mrs. Gretorex +was keeping up all her charities in the village just as if she had +still been the rich lady of the manor. I thought it splendid of her. +What is Roger Gretorex like now? He was such a handsome boy,” she +concluded, with some curiosity. + +Her husband waited a moment, then he answered: “He’s still +good-looking; I can tell you that much. But I didn’t like the look of +him. He said that he’d taken over a slum practice, somewhere in +Westminster.” + +“Is he a great friend of Mr. Lexton?” + +“He seemed to be, though they’re as different as chalk from cheese. +The one’s a born idler, the other I should say a born worker; though, +mind you, Squire Gretorex was a bad man. D’you remember the sort of +things we were told about him, Janey? How he had come in for thirty +thousand a year when he was twenty-one, and how by the time he was +fifty he had run through the whole of his fortune on the turf?” + +“I expect Dr. Gretorex takes after his mother,” she said with a smile. + +Suddenly there came the postman’s loud knock, and Berwick, jumping up, +went out into the hall. + +He came back with only one rather bulky letter, addressed to himself, +in a woman’s sloping handwriting as yet unknown to him. + +He opened the large, square, pale-mauve envelope slowly, deliberately. +It contained a note folded in two, and also an enclosure, an envelope +on which was written “Prescriptions.” + +He glanced over the note: + + + Dear Dr. Berwick, + + You asked me to send you Dr. Lancaster’s prescriptions. I found them + just after you left. Jervis is feeling better this afternoon, and the + nurse says that if you’re busy she doesn’t think you need come + to-morrow. + + Yours sincerely, + Ivy Lexton. + + +He looked across at his wife. “It’s from Mrs. Lexton. She says her +husband’s better, and that I need not go there to-morrow. That’s a +comfort!” + +Idly he took out what that other envelope contained. Dr. Lancaster’s +prescriptions might give him a clue as to what the old fellow really +thought of Lexton’s mysterious condition. + +“Hallo!” he exclaimed in a tone of extreme surprise, for what was +written on a wide sheet of thin, common paper, folded in eight, ran: + + + _Friday night._ + + My own precious love (for that you are and always will be)-- + + Of course I quite see your point of view. Indeed I absolutely agree in + a sense with every word that you have written to me. We have done + wrong in allowing ourselves to love one another, and when I say “we” I + really mean I Roger Gretorex, not you, Ivy Lexton. You were, you are, + the purest and best woman I have ever known. + + I can swear before God that, had you been even moderately happy, I + would have killed myself rather than have disturbed your peace. My + only excuse, not for having loved you--of that I am not at all + ashamed--but for having let you know that I loved you, is that when we + first met you had begun to find how bitter a loveless life can be. + + You say you feel you ought never to come again to Ferry Place. I bow + to your decision, dearest, and I will say that you are right in having + come to that decision, even though it causes me agony. Thank you for + saying I may still write to you, and that you will sometimes telephone + to me. + + Your devoted + Roger Gretorex. + + +Berwick read the letter right through. Then he handed it to his wife. + +“Janey? I want you to tell me what you think of this! Both of the +writer, I mean, and of the woman to whom this letter was written?” + +Slowly, with her husband closely watching her, and feeling, it must be +admitted, ashamed of what she was doing, Janey Berwick read Roger +Gretorex’s letter to Ivy Lexton right through. + +Then she looked across at her husband, and her face bore an expression +that a little surprised him. He had expected it to be filled with the +wrath and disgust he felt himself. + +“This is written with a man’s heart’s blood,” she said at last. “There +must be more in this little Mrs. Lexton than you think, Angus. Surely +this letter cannot be in answer to one sent by a silly, frivolous +woman?” + +“I wonder,” he said gloomily, “what their real relations have been. +This letter might, of course, mean one of two things.” + +She was reading the letter once more, slowly and carefully. At last +she looked up. “I am inclined to think----” then she stopped and +exclaimed, “I don’t know what to think, Angus!” + +“What were you going to say just now?” he asked quickly. + +“I was going to say that I’m inclined to think that their friendship +has not been innocent. That was what I was going to say; but even in +these last few moments I’ve turned right round! Now I would say in all +sincerity, my dear, that I think it very probable that there’s been +nothing but passionate love on his side, and I suppose grateful +affection on hers. She evidently doesn’t care for her husband; so much +is quite clear.” + +“No one would ever think so, from her way of speaking of him. The only +time I’ve ever seen them together they seemed on the most affectionate +terms. He was calling her ‘darling’ all the time, and she called him +‘dear old boy,’ and seemed genuinely very much worried about him.” + +“At any rate she’s now made up her mind to do the right thing,” said +Janey Berwick gravely. “One can’t but honour her for that, when one +remembers----” + +She smiled, a curious little smile. + +“Yes, my dear? Out with it!” + +“After all, it is very delightful to be loved,” she said softly, “and +this poor young chap evidently adores her.” + +“Now comes a difficult question: what am I to do with this letter? I +wonder if I ought to send it back to her----” + +“If I were you, I wouldn’t send it back to her. If she’s the sort of +woman you’ve described her to be, it’s quite likely she’ll never +discover that she sent it you by mistake.” + +“Ought I to put it in the fire?” + +“I don’t think you ought to do that. It doesn’t belong to you. You’ve +no right to destroy it. Wait a day or two, dearest, and see what +happens. She may ask you if you have got the letter? Then you can give +it back to her. I’ll keep it if you like, Angus. We’ll put it in an +envelope and I’ll address it to myself. If I keep it in the secret +drawer of my old desk over there, only you and I will know where it +is.” + + + + + Chapter Seven + +A long, long week went by, and it was now the evening of the 16th of +November. Nurse Bradfield had been out for an hour after lunch, and +while she was out Ivy had “looked after” Jervis. She made a point of +doing this at some time of her day, though it was always over-full. + +Being both good humoured and good natured, Nurse Bradfield fell in +easily with any plan proposed by her patient’s wife. She had become +very fond of Jervis Lexton, and, though aware of Ivy Lexton’s +selfishness and innate frivolity and levity, she was yet attracted, in +spite of herself, by the younger woman’s beauty, and what was in very +truth an exceptional charm of manner, and what some of Ivy’s friends +called her cheeriness. + +Nurse Bradfield would have been surprised indeed could she have looked +into Ivy Lexton’s mind, and seen how often and how anxiously that mind +was occupied with herself. + +Often the nurse would be touched and gratified by the consideration +with which she was treated, and her comfort studied. It was no wonder +that she, on her side, never even thought of insisting on her right to +a certain amount of rest and exercise. She was no longer a young +woman. She had few friends in London, and this day nursing job with a +pleasant young couple was an agreeable interlude in her often anxious +and hard-working life. + +So on this early afternoon Ivy and Jervis had what her patient +afterwards weakly described to his nurse as a quiet, nice little time +together. + +Then Ivy had gone out to a bridge-party, and now she had just come in, +leaving herself barely time enough to dress and go out again. + +To the young day-maid who hovered, timidly, admiringly, about her, +Mrs. Lexton sadly expressed her regret at being in too great a hurry +to see Mr. Lexton, even for a minute. + +Hurry was the word to-day. She was hurrying over her dressing as she +never hurried before, and, while she made up with feverish haste, +there was a strange look on her lovely face. She even noticed that she +did not look “quite the thing,” as she gazed at herself in the +looking-glass, and she tried, but it was a failure, to smile, +reassuringly, at herself. + +She had turned away from the dressing-table and had just slipped her +frock over her head, when there was a knock at the bedroom door, and +Nurse Bradfield came in. + +“I feel anxious about Mr. Lexton,” she said in a worried voice. “I +don’t like his colour. Will you ’phone for the doctor, Mrs. Lexton? I +hate leaving Mr. Lexton, even for a moment!” + +Ivy of course murmured a word of assent. Then it was as if her heart +bounded in her breast. Had it come at last--her order of release? + +She felt a spasm of terror shake her being. Also a sensation of abject +fear of hard-faced, cold-mannered Dr. Berwick. + +This morning she had discovered the envelope containing the +prescriptions which she believed she had sent the doctor a +few days ago. And as she stared at it, puzzled, she suddenly +remembered--remembered, with a sharp stab of dismay, thrusting +Gretorex’s letter into an empty envelope which she herself, in the +early days of Jervis’s illness, acting on Dr. Lancaster’s fussy advice, +had marked “Prescriptions.” Fool, fool that she had been! + +There was that in the lovely, sensitive face of her patient’s wife +that caused the nurse to run forward and put her arms round her. + +“Don’t be so upset, Mrs. Lexton! We’ll have the doctor round in a few +minutes. Though he’s not my sort, Dr. Berwick is very clever, and +maybe he’ll think of something to bring him round--quick! But do +please now ’phone at once!” And she almost ran out of the room. + +But Ivy did not go over to the side of the bed where stood the +telephone. Instead, she went and sat down again in front of the pretty +dressing-table. She shrank with terror from the thought of sending for +Dr. Berwick “all in a hurry, like this.” + +Oh! What had made her give that large, that dangerous, dose of +the--the stuff, to Jervis to-day? He had felt weak, weak and what he +oddly called “spent.” So she had mixed him a stiff brandy and soda. +And the doing of that had seemed such a good opportunity for… Ivy did +not end the sentence, even to herself. + +Again, why wasn’t Roger Gretorex in London? What a fool she had been +to let him go for a long week-end down to Sussex to his tiresome +mother. There was such support in his unquestioning love, in his +adoring devotion, especially as he no longer asked her, with pleading, +ardent, burning words of longing, to go to that horrid little house in +Ferry Place. + +At last, slowly, and with dragging steps, she went over to the +telephone and rang up the doctor’s house. + +To her relief it was a woman’s voice, kindly, gentle, which answered. + +“My husband is away. He won’t be back till to-morrow morning. Mr. +Lexton less well? I’m so sorry. I’ll have a message sent round at once +to Dr. Singleton, who always takes over Dr. Berwick’s work. He only +lives two doors off, and his telephone is unluckily out of order.” + +Ivy waited for what seemed to the other a very long time. + +“Are you sure he’ll be able to come at once?” she asked. + +There came the slightly impatient answer, “I can’t be sure of that, +for Dr. Singleton may be out. But he’ll come as soon as he can.” + +“We want someone at once,” and the voice sounded so sad, so woeful, +that Mrs. Berwick, at the other end of the telephone, felt ashamed of +the suspicion she had harboured about young Mrs. Lexton ever since the +night she had read Roger Gretorex’s love-letter. It was, however, a +suspicion she had kept to herself. Even if these two had been lovers, +they were so no longer. And in any case it was none of her business. + +But what was this Mrs. Lexton was saying? + +“There’s a doctor living in Duke of Kent Mansion. I think I’d better +try and get him, don’t you? My husband is so very ill. Nurse is quite +frightened!” + +Without waiting for Mrs. Berwick’s assent, Ivy hung up the receiver. + +She felt very much less afraid than she had felt just now. Surely fate +was playing into her hands? She told herself that it was really a most +fortunate thing that Dr. Berwick happened to be away. + +She went out into the hall and listened. But no sounds were coming +from the sick man’s room. + +Timorously she called out, “Nurse!” + +She was afraid to open Jervis’s bedroom door, for she was determined +not to see him. To do so, she told herself, would do him no good, and +only make her feel miserable. + +The kitchen door, situated some way off, at the end of the long +corridor, swung open, and the nurse appeared, a jug of boiling water +in her hand. + +“I’m coming,” she called out, “I’m coming, Mr. Lexton. Is the doctor +here already?” + +“Dr. Berwick has gone away till to-morrow morning. Shall we try and +get the doctor who lives in number 1A, downstairs?” + +“Oh, I don’t think Dr. Berwick would like us to do that! He was so +disagreeable about that nice Dr. Gretorex. Surely Dr. Berwick has +someone who takes his patients when he’s away? I never heard of such a +thing as a doctor leaving his patients unattended! But I’ve thought of +something to give Mr. Lexton that may ease the dreadful pain. He seems +a little better now.” + +“I’m glad of that,” said Ivy fervently. And she was glad. It hurt her, +made her feel wretched, when she had time to remember it, to think of +poor Jervis suffering. + +As time had gone on, Nurse Bradfield had liked Dr. Berwick less and +less. He had such a short, unpleasant way with him. Also, she was too +experienced not to have quickly seen that he was both puzzled and +irritated by his patient’s lack of reaction to his treatment. Once or +twice she had thrown out a feeler about this. But he had rebuffed her, +almost rudely, while yet giving her strict instructions never to leave +her patient alone, and always to administer herself the food and the +medicines prescribed. This had surprised, and even offended her. + +Not only had the nurse become fond, in a way, of beautiful Mrs. +Lexton, but for Jervis himself she had now almost a tender feeling. He +was such a real gentleman, giving as little trouble as he could, and +even when in sharp pain invariably patient and good-humoured. + +“I suppose you’d like me to stay in to-night?” asked Ivy nervously. + +Nurse Bradfield hesitated. + +“I don’t think you need, really. It isn’t as if you could do anything, +Mrs. Lexton? I can manage quite well; and if I think it necessary I +can always send cook for the doctor in the flat downstairs.” + +So Ivy went off, with a sensation of intense relief, to a +theatre-party, composed of a young married woman of much her own age +and two men. Her own special escort was a good-looking bachelor whom +she had met since her return to London, and with whom she spent a +great deal of what she called her spare time. + +She determined to banish Jervis from her mind, and, in quite a short +time, she succeeded. After all, he was “a little better,” and Nurse +Bradfield was kindness itself. + +Ivy had abstained from saying to which theatre she was going, and +after an amusing evening spent in laughing at a really funny farce, +the four went on to supper at the Carlton. + +Her new man friend drove her home at almost one in the morning, and +she lingered for quite a long while in the deserted hall of the Duke +of Kent Mansion, bidding him farewell. When at last he went off she +felt quite “good,” for she had only allowed him one kiss. + +Lightly she ran up the stairs, for the lift stopped working at +midnight. But when she reached the landing outside her front door, Ivy +Lexton did not at once put her latchkey in the lock. Indeed, she +waited for quite a long time. At last, however, she did put the key in +the lock, and slowly she turned it. + +Then she gave a stifled cry of surprise, for Nurse Bradfield was +sitting in the hall, waiting for her. + +There was a look of great distress, almost of shame, on the nurse’s +kind face. She got up, and looked straight into the now terrified eyes +of the merry-maker. + +“I’ve bad news for you--very bad news, Mrs. Lexton.” + +She waited, hoping the other would say something that would imply she +understood what that bad news must be. + +But Ivy remained silent, staring at Nurse Bradfield with +terror-filled, dilated eyes. + +“Mr. Lexton took a very serious turn for the worse about half-past +ten. I sent at once for the doctor downstairs, but he was out; +and--and----” she did not finish her sentence. “I don’t think anything +could have saved him. His heart gave way--that’s what it was! He looks +so young, so boyish, so peaceful.” + +The tears came into her eyes. “Would you like to see him?” + +“Oh no! I--I couldn’t!” + +The newly-made widow burst into tears, and the older woman led her +tenderly to her bedroom, and helped her to undress. + +“I’ll never forget how kind you were to my poor darling--and to me, +too, nurse. I hope to be able to prove my gratitude some day,” +whispered Ivy, after the other had tucked her up in bed. + +Nurse Bradfield was touched. She forgot how selfish she had secretly +thought little Mrs. Lexton’s conduct had been, in practically +insisting on going out this evening. She only remembered thenceforth +her pretty ways, her sweet manner to her poor husband, and the easy +good nature which always made her willing, when she happened to be at +home, to arrange some little treat for her husband’s kind nurse. + + +That night Ivy lay for a long, long while with eyes wide open in the +darkness. What had just happened filled her with a kind of awe. She +had not known how easy and simple is the passage from life to death. + +She reminded herself how very kind, how good a pal, she had always +been to poor Jervis, and how happy he had been these last two months, +owing to Miles Rushworth. + +Dear, delightful, generous Miles Rushworth! The thought of him brought +a rush of joy, as well as comfort, in its train. + +At last a great peace descended upon her. All the terrors which had +assailed her during those infrequent moments when she had been, by +some strange chance, alone, during her husband’s illness, had vanished +as if they had never been. + +As she looked back she shivered at the thought of how frightened she +had sometimes felt. And yet, after all, she knew now that there had +been nothing to be really frightened about. + +Roger Gretorex had been right as to what he had said, on that evening +she still remembered so well. At the time she had thought it horrid of +him to imagine such a thing as that--she let what he had suggested +stay undefined. No need surely to put it into ugly words, even to +herself. All the same, she did bring herself to face the comforting +fact that, if rather horrible, it was certainly true. A great many +more people are undoubtedly helped out of life than stupid, +unimaginative folk suppose. As to those who--well--help them to leave +a world which has no further use for them, they certainly, as Roger +had declared, “got away with it,” often with marvellous success. + +True, that disagreeable Dr. Berwick had been puzzled--he had said as +much to her. But she had got on much better with him during the last +couple of days, since, in fact, he had seen that she really could not +endure the sight of poor Jervis’s sufferings.… + +The word “death,” which means so much to the great majority of men and +women, meant very little to Ivy Lexton. Indeed, she felt, as she lay +there in the darkness, that this man who had been her lover-comrade +had only gone away out of her life on a long journey--a journey from +which, however, he was never to return. The fact that she had planned +that journey, that it was owing to her direct action that he had gone +from the world he found on the whole so pleasant, would and must, not +only remain hidden, but in time be forgotten even by herself. + +In a way, she was forgetting it already as she turned to her +cloudless, sunny future--to the delightful existence she would +henceforth lead, first as the fiancée, and then as the wife, of Miles +Rushworth. + +Run straight? Of course she would run straight! For one thing, +Rushworth wasn’t the sort of man with whom it would be safe to run +crooked. For all his odd ideas, and to Ivy his ideas as to morality +were indeed singular, she realised that he had his weather eye very +much open. She would henceforth have to be what to herself she vaguely +called “a good woman.” But then, how easy it is to be a good woman +when one has a hundred thousand a year! + + + + + Chapter Eight + +After a good night of deep, healthy sleep, Ivy Lexton awoke. She sat +up in bed and then, all at once, she remembered.… + +Her first sensation was one of intense, almost painfully acute, +relief. True, she would still have, for just a little while, to play a +part. But playing a part was to her second nature. Now and again, but +very rarely, in moments of suspense, and now and again in moments of +panic, there would appear before a pair of astonished eyes another +woman altogether to the every-day Ivy. + +She slid out of her comfortable warm bed and softly opened the door of +her bedroom, to see that the grandfather’s clock in the hall marked a +quarter past nine. + +The kindly, fussy old cook came out of her kitchen, and when she saw +the slender figure, clad in diaphanous pale pink ninon trimmed with +lace, standing half-in half-out of the door, she hurried down the +passage and whispered, “Go back to bed, ma’am! I won’t be a minute in +getting you a cup of tea. I scarcely slept a wink all night, I was +that upset. Mr. Lexton was such a nice young gentleman.” + +“Thank you very, very much, cook!” + +Tears, genuine tears, rose to Ivy’s eyes. What cook said was so +true--Jervis had been “such a nice young gentleman,” especially during +this painful illness. It seemed so strange to think of him as gone, +for ever, from a world which on the whole had treated him so kindly, +and of which he had been so contented a denizen. Ivy did not put the +thoughts which haunted her mind in those words, but that was the +purport of them. + +After she had had her breakfast, she began to feel oddly restless, and +so, earlier than was usual with her, she got up and dressed. Nurse +Bradfield, it appeared, was still asleep. + +The newly-made widow hesitated as to what she should wear. Finally she +decided on a pretty black georgette frock she had bought from a friend +who had started a profitable little business in French models, some of +which she cleverly managed to smuggle over from Paris. + +After she had put it on, Ivy looked at the reflection of herself in +the long narrow panel of looking-glass set in the wall at right angles +from the window. Yes, the dress was charming, and looked just right. + +She ran across to a walnut-wood chest, and took out of it the hat she +had bought yesterday. For the first time, since she had come into the +flat last night, she smiled. The little hat was so chic, really chic! +And it made her look so--well, why not say it to herself?--so +absolutely lovely. + +Slowly, reluctantly, she took off the hat, and then she went into the +drawing-room. + +The blinds were still drawn down. How strange! Then she remembered why +they were drawn down. + +She wandered about the room, feeling just a little dazed. Should she +telegraph for Roger Gretorex? It was so stupid of his mother to have +given up the telephone. No one could be so poor as that; it was just +meanness and affectation! But if she wired she knew he would come back +at once. She also knew that she could trust him to take off her +shoulders all worrying, maybe even unpleasant, arrangements. + +And yet the fact that she was now a widow would certainly make Roger +“tiresome.” So unfortunately certain was this that she felt it better +to leave him alone, at any rate for the present. Also she was a little +afraid of seeing him just now. After all, owing to his being a doctor, +he had such an uncanny knowledge of--of poisons, and of their effect +on the human body. + +She sat down; then she got up again, and at last she began moving +about restlessly. + +Suddenly she told herself that she might as well sit down and write to +Miles Rushworth. It could be quite a short letter. He would of course +remember that in her very last letter she had said that poor Jervis +was worse, and that she was feeling anxious. + +She wondered how long it takes for a letter to get to South Africa. +And then with a sensation of relief came the thought that she could +cable. It would be quite natural for her to do that as, after all, her +husband had been in Rushworth’s employment. + +She went over to the writing-table, and, sitting down, drew a +telegraph form towards her. She would write it out, and then take it +herself to the post office. She didn’t feel, somehow, like sending a +cable to Rushworth over the telephone. That is the worst of living in +a flat. Everything one says may be overheard, especially from the +hall. + +But instead of taking up a pen, she put her elbows on the table and +gazed in front of her. + +There had suddenly come over her a most unexpected sensation of +loneliness. Oh, if she had one good man friend who wasn’t in love with +her, and who would help her through the next few days! She did so +shrink from--from everything. Laying her head on the table, she began +to sob with self-pity. + +The door opened, and the nurse came in. Ivy looked up. + +“I’m so miserable! So miserable! I don’t know what to do!” + +“Don’t you worry about anything, Mrs. Lexton. Dr. Berwick will be +round pretty soon. I telephoned to his house just now, and left a +message for him. Mrs. Berwick was shocked to hear our dreadful news. +She said she was expecting the doctor back any minute now. I expect +Dr. Gretorex will be in some time to-day, too. Surely he’ll see to all +the things that have to be done.” + +“All the things?” Ivy looked timorously at Nurse Bradfield, and +shivered. + +The other saw her look of dismay. “Poor little thing,” she said to +herself, “she’s not much more than a child, after all.” + +Aloud she said, “I thought of going out presently. Not for long”--fear +had flashed into Ivy’s face--“only just for a few minutes.” + +She added kindly: “I shouldn’t try to write, if I were you, Mrs. +Lexton. I’d just lie down and have a rest. I don’t suppose you’ve had +much sleep?” + +Ivy answered plaintively, “I lay awake all night. You see it was such +a shock, nurse, such a dreadful shock,” and she thought that what she +said was true. + +In a way it had been a dreadful shock, for Ivy had never come face to +face with death. She had been still a pupil at a fashionable school +when her father had killed himself. + +The nurse led her to the comfortable sofa. “You lie down here.” + +Ivy obeyed, wondering why she felt as she did feel--so thoroughly +upset and unnerved. + +She had been lying down perhaps ten minutes when she heard the now +familiar knock of Dr. Berwick. She started up, and what natural colour +she had left her cheeks. Angrily she told herself that it was stupid +to feel frightened. There was nothing to be frightened about. + +The door opened, and the doctor strode into the darkened room. He +turned a frowning, preoccupied face on the newly-made widow. Then, +when his eyes rested on the tear-stained little face, his expression +softened. + +“I’m more sorry than I can say that I happened to have been away all +yesterday, Mrs. Lexton. I only came back this morning.” + +Ivy began to cry, and again he felt touched by her evident distress. + +“Sit down, Mrs. Lexton. Do sit down. I’m afraid you’ve had a terrible +shock.” + +“A dreadful, dreadful shock!” she sobbed, “I had no idea that Jervis +was so ill.” + +“Last time I was here he was certainly better,” he said quickly. “You +thought him better too, didn’t you?” + +“I did. I did indeed.” + +She was trembling now, and though she was consciously playing a part, +her emotion was still genuine. + +She sat down on the sofa and the doctor drew up a chair and sat down +too, a little to her surprise. + +“If you feel up to it,” he said, “I want to ask you a few questions. I +mean as to what happened yesterday?” + +She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. “I can’t tell you very +much, for I was out a great deal yesterday. But nurse never left +Jervis, not for one moment. She’s been most awfully kind, and----” + +He cut her short, brusquely. “I know she’s a good old thing. What I +want to know is whether Mr. Lexton received any visitor or visitors +yesterday?” + +“Visitors?” She looked at him in surprise. “Not that I know of. He was +far too ill.” + +In a tone which he strove to make light, he observed, “I thought that +your husband might have seen Dr. Gretorex for a few moments.” + +The colour rushed into her face. + +“He can’t have seen him. Dr. Gretorex is in the country.” Then, a +little confusedly, she added, “At least, I’m nearly sure that he is.” + +“Ah, well, then he can’t have come in, of course.” + +A knock sounded on the door, and Nurse Bradfield came into the room. + +Ivy welcomed her presence. Looking up into the kind face, now full of +sympathy, she exclaimed: + +“Dr. Berwick has been asking me if my husband saw anyone yesterday? +But I’m quite sure Jervis wasn’t well enough to see anyone.” + +“Mr. Lexton only had one visitor,” said the nurse quickly, +defensively, “and that was Dr. Gretorex.” + +“I thought,” said the doctor, turning sharply on Ivy, “that you said +just now that Dr. Gretorex was in the country?” + +“He was to have been in the country, staying with his mother for a +long week-end.” + +There was no mistaking Ivy’s look of surprise. Not that she thought it +mattered, one way or the other, whether Roger Gretorex had come in or +not yesterday. + +“At what time was he here?” asked Dr. Berwick. + +The nurse waited a moment. “I suppose it would have been about four +o’clock. He didn’t mean to see Mr. Lexton.” + +Said Dr. Berwick grimly to himself, “Oh, didn’t he?” + +Nurse Bradfield went on, a little nervously: “He asked for Mrs. +Lexton, and when he heard that she was coming in soon--you said you +wouldn’t be out long,” and she turned to Ivy--“he said he would come +in and wait. After he had been in the drawing-room about ten minutes, +he rang for the maid and asked to see me. I told him I thought Mr. +Lexton on the whole better, and then he inquired if Mr. Lexton would +care to see him. He said he couldn’t stay long, as he had a train to +catch----” + +Dr. Berwick said negligently, “Did you leave them alone together, +nurse?” + +“Yes, I did, doctor, for I knew they were great friends. Dr. Gretorex +thought Mr. Lexton less well than the last time he had seen him. In +fact, he saw a great change.” + +“Did he tell you that?” + +She replied quickly, “He told me that he thought him very far from +well, and that he was distressed at the change he saw in him.” + +“You never told me all that,” said Ivy plaintively. + +“I ought to have done, Mrs. Lexton. But the truth is I was too upset, +when Mr. Lexton took a turn for the worse, to remember anything.” + +“I’m sure seeing Roger Gretorex for a few moments can’t have done him +any harm,” said Ivy gently. “They were great friends.” + +But as she made that commonplace remark, she flushed again, +remembering Roger’s highfalutin’ letter--what a fool she had been not +to destroy it at once! + +“So I understood on that occasion when Dr. Gretorex, from my point of +view, most improperly began to prescribe for him,” said the doctor, in +a tone which, even to himself, sounded trenchantly ironic. + +Meanwhile Nurse Bradfield, supposing that for the present the doctor +had done with her, had turned towards the door. + +“I should be obliged, nurse, if you would wait in the dining-room for +a few moments. I should like to speak to you on my way out.” + +“Certainly, Dr. Berwick.” + +The good woman told herself with a touch of contempt that he could +have nothing of any moment to say to her. She had done her duty, and +more than her duty as a day nurse, to poor Jervis Lexton. + +As she shut the door, Dr. Berwick turned to his late patient’s widow. + +“In the circumstances,” he said, in a slow, emphatic tone, “I am +afraid, Mrs. Lexton, that there must be a post-mortem.” + +“A post-mortem?” repeated Ivy falteringly. “What is a post-mortem, Dr. +Berwick?” + +She was trying to remember what it was exactly that Roger Gretorex had +said about a “post-mortem.” Much that he had said, during that +conversation which had meant so little to him, and so much to her, was +almost terribly present to her mind. But her memory as to that +alarming word or expression had become dim. + +Ivy Lexton had always remained, until to-day, most comfortably +ignorant of all the terrible, strange, and awful things that now and +again occurred outside her own immediate little circle of people and +of interests. + +The newspaper reports of a really exciting “society case,” of the kind +which amused and intrigued her special set of friends, amused and +intrigued her too; though only if there was nothing going on at the +time in her own life of infinitely greater moment. As to what is +called, often erroneously, “a murder mystery” she had never felt any +interest at all. + +Her look of innocent inquiry at once effaced from Dr. Berwick’s mind +what might have been described as a gossamer suspicion which he had +now and again entertained, during the last ten days, with regard to +his patient’s wife. + +He did not answer her question at once. Instead he asked her slowly, +“I suppose you have some man relative who can see to everything for +you? Though I advise that no arrangements be made to-day.” + +“No arrangements?” She looked at him surprised. “Does that mean----” +she waited for a moment, then went on, “that poor Jervis’s funeral +cannot take place as soon as nurse thought it might?” + +“Nurse? What did nurse say?” he asked quickly. + +She realised at once that she had made a mistake in mentioning nurse. + +Ivy was only clever with regard to those men--they were in the great +majority--whom she instinctively knew to be strongly attracted to her +lovely self. + +“Nurse seemed to think that the funeral could be on Thursday,” she +answered in a low voice. + +“Nothing can be settled till the post-mortem has taken place, Mrs. +Lexton. Once the cause of death has been ascertained, the funeral can, +of course, take place at once.” + +Ivy had moved away while he was speaking, and she was now standing by +the writing-table, with her back to the window. + +Slowly, mechanically, she repeated: “The cause of death?” + +Though she uttered the four words in her usual voice, there had +suddenly swept over her a sensation of intense terror. + +“I’m sure that you feel quite as anxious as I do, Mrs. Lexton, to know +what can have brought about your husband’s death in so sudden and +mysterious a fashion,” said Dr. Berwick earnestly. “I have not +concealed from you that to me this case, ever since I took charge of +Mr. Lexton, presented more than one puzzling feature.” + +Though, unlike his wife, he felt quite sure that the attractive, silly +young creature before him had never returned Roger Gretorex’s love, +she had certainly been foolishly imprudent. With indulgent contempt he +told himself that she was the sort of woman who always likes to have +an adoring swain hanging about her. + +“I think it more than likely,” he said, getting up, and speaking far +more lightly than before, “that nothing untoward will be discovered as +a result of the post-mortem--which, by the way, simply means an +examination. But still, if only for my own satisfaction, and I’m sure +that my feelings will be shared by Dr. Lancaster, I should like to be +able to put what is the truth, rather than a mere guess, as to the +cause of Mr. Lexton’s death on the certificate.” + +Again he had uttered those awful words--_the cause of… death_. + +She forced herself to say, with a look of childish appeal, “I daresay +you’ll think it strange, Dr. Berwick, but this is the first time in my +life that I’ve ever been even in the same house where----” + +She stopped, and he supplied the end of her sentence. + +“--there has been a death? That is not so strange as you may think, +Mrs. Lexton. Some people go through a long life without coming in +contact even with serious illness.” + +“It’s that which makes it all so dreadful,” and again she melted into +tears. + +She was telling herself that if they really found out anything as a +result of--what was that strange, terrifying term?--the post-mortem, +then this hard-faced man standing there might make a great difference, +perhaps all the difference, to her being, well, worried. + +Her look of appeal, her tears, did touch the doctor. He asked himself +idly what age this lovely little woman could be? She looked so +amazingly young. Not a day over twenty! But she must, of course, be +much older than that, for Jervis Lexton had talked on one occasion as +if they had been married quite a long time. + +Ivy felt the wave of kindly feeling, and was reassured. + +“I shall be so lonely now,” she said plaintively. + +“Have you no woman friend who would come and stay with you, Mrs. +Lexton? In any case, you ought to communicate with your husband’s +lawyers. I suppose Mr. Lexton’s life was insured?” + +“No, Jervis was not insured.” + +She looked surprised at the question. + +“He quarrelled with his lawyer last year,” she added forlornly. “And +our one really great friend, Miles Rushworth, lives at Liverpool, but +he is in South Africa just now.” + +“You mean the owner of the Rushworth Line?” + +“Yes, my husband was in his London office. I’m going to cable to Mr. +Rushworth. It’s so dreadful to feel I’ve no one to turn to.” + +“I should think Dr. Gretorex might be able to help you?” + +He uttered the commonplace words in a tone he tried to make +matter-of-fact. Still, he threw her a quick look, and he did become +aware that the half-question had disturbed her. Though how much he had +disturbed her he was never to know. + +She turned to the writing-table, and began piling the papers which lay +on it to one side, and then there rose before her inner vision a view +of Roger Gretorex’s surgery as it had looked on that evening when she +had been surprised, just for a moment, by his old charwoman. She saw +again the jar labelled “Arsenic” standing on the deal table. + +“I’m not quite sure where Dr. Gretorex is just now. Besides, he’s so +dreadfully busy.” + +Dr. Berwick reminded himself that the poor little woman had +undoubtedly been trying to put an end to Gretorex’s infatuation. +Gretorex’s own letter had proved that. So it was decent of her not to +send for him just now. + +“I must be going, Mrs. Lexton, for I have a great deal of work to get +through this morning.” + +He took her hand in his, and then he felt startled, for it was icy +cold. Poor, pretty little thing! She had evidently had a more serious +shock than he had supposed. In her own childish way she must have been +really fond of that feckless, yet not unattractive, chap. + +True, she had been no more use in the sick-room than an officious, +affectionate child would have been! And only this last week he had +thought it oddly heartless of her to have been out almost the whole of +every day. But he realised, now, that she had never before come in +contact with serious illness.… + +However, there could be no doubt as to her real grief and sense of +loss. There were black lines round her long-fringed, violet eyes; +marks of tears still stained her roseleaf-tinted cheeks. And--and she +was really so lovely that now, when bidding her good-bye, he did hold +her hand maybe a thought longer than he need have done. + +“Get out of doors all you can,” he said feelingly. “Go and walk in +Kensington Gardens now, till lunch time. And don’t worry about +anything! As far as will be possible, I promise to save you all +trouble and anxiety.” + +She gave his strong hand an affectionate squeeze. + +“I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you, doctor, I shall never +forget how awfully kind you’ve been.” + +Till a few moments ago she had thought Dr. Berwick very unkind, but +Ivy Lexton was dowered with so great a power of self-deception that +she really did believe what she had just said. + +As the doctor was going quickly through the hall, Nurse Bradfield came +out of the dining-room. + +“You wanted to see me, Dr. Berwick?” + +“Did I? Well, I don’t think I need trouble you after all, nurse. Wait +a moment, though. I’d just like to have your address. I suppose you +are leaving here to-day?” + +Nurse Bradfield was genuinely surprised. She had felt so sure that the +doctor thought but poorly of her; and she on her side had no wish to +nurse under him again. Still, one never can tell! She took a card out +of her handbag, and handed it to him. + +“There’s going to be a post-mortem,” he said suddenly, and then he +looked at her hard. Had she had no suspicion of anything being wrong? + +Her evident astonishment answered his unspoken question even before +she said in a surprised tone: “Have you any doubt yourself, doctor, as +to the cause of Mr. Lexton’s death?” + +He nearly replied: “The greatest doubt! In fact, I don’t feel I can +sign the death certificate.” + +But he checked himself. It wouldn’t do for her to go and frighten that +poor little woman. After all, his suspicions might be--he certainly +hoped they were--absolutely unjustified. + +And then it was her turn to astonish him. + +“I hope Mrs. Lexton won’t be put to any great expense,” she murmured. +“In spite of this lovely flat, and her wonderful clothes, I’m afraid +they were very poor. In fact, Mr. Lexton, when he was wandering so +much these last two days, talked a lot about money, and seemed to +blame himself very much. But I should say that it was she who was +extravagant!” + +“Extravagant?” said the doctor, surprised. “Is Mrs. Lexton +extravagant? I should have thought she had very simple tastes.” + +Nurse Bradfield smiled to herself. “Men are soft where a pretty face +is concerned,” she reminded herself tolerantly. + +Then aloud she said: “Mrs. Lexton spends a great deal of money over +her clothes--and I know that she is a good bit in debt. There was a +man here the day before yesterday who said he wouldn’t go away till he +was paid. But he had to, at last, for she wasn’t in till midnight. We +must hope that Mr. Lexton was well insured.” + +“He wasn’t insured at all,” said the doctor shortly. “I asked Mrs. +Lexton, for had he been, she ought at once to have informed the +insurance company.” + + +For the first time in his professional life Dr. Berwick went home in +what he himself described as “the middle of his round.” + +Mrs. Berwick saw the motor draw up outside their little house, and +running out into the hall she opened the front door. + +“Darling!” she cried, “did you forget anything?” + +“No, Janey, I forgot nothing. But I’ve got to arrange for a +post-mortem, so I thought it better to come back here, rather than +ring up from a call office.” + +She saw that he was excited and disturbed, and, being a wise woman, +she asked him no questions. But she was not surprised when, instead of +going straight off to the telephone, he turned into their +sitting-room, and shut the door behind him. + +“Janey?” he said slowly. “You know that that poor chap Lexton died +last night? Mrs. Lexton, as usual, was out. She came in to find him +dead.” + +“How dreadful!” + +“He was better, it seems, in the morning--very much better. Then Roger +Gretorex came in and sat with him some time alone or so I gather from +the nurse.” + +There followed a long, pregnant silence between the husband and wife. +Then there came over Mrs. Berwick’s face a look of terrible dismay. + +“D’you mean that you suspect----?” And there was a world of horror in +her voice. + +“I don’t suspect anything,” he answered sharply. “And I certainly +don’t want you to put words into my mouth, or even thoughts into my +mind. There’s going to be a post-mortem, so we shall soon know part of +the truth, at any rate.” + +She waited a moment, and her voice sank almost to a whisper. + +“Then Mrs. Lexton consents to a post-mortem?” + +“Her consent was not asked,” he said brusquely. “But I’ll tell you one +thing, Janey. If there’s been any foul play, she’s not in it. I’ve +thoroughly satisfied myself of that.” + +“But Roger Gretorex? A doctor? How terrible!” + +“I know,” he muttered. “But, Janey?” + +“Yes, dear?” + +“I think it’s ninety-nine chances to one against my half-suspicion +turning out to be the truth. What with his impudence in prescribing +for my patient, and that queer love-letter of his--well, I’m +prejudiced against the chap.” + +“I’m not surprised at that,” she breathed. + +Indeed, she, Janey Berwick herself, felt strongly prejudiced against +Roger Gretorex. + + + + + Chapter Nine + +Roger Gretorex had gone back to his consulting-room after a long +morning’s round. He loved his work, yet to-day his heart was not in +it, for he was extraordinarily excited, and moved as he had never +before felt moved in his twenty-eight years of life. + +He had come up early from Sussex by a workman’s train, and had found +waiting for him an undated and unsigned note in Ivy Lexton’s +handwriting: + + + I’m not quite sure if you are in London; but I know you will be very + sorry to hear that Jervis died suddenly last night. + + I hardly know what I am doing--the shock has been so great. Nurse says + his heart must have given way. I would rather not see anybody for a + little while. + + +Now that his morning’s work was over, he was free to commune with his +own thoughts, and to dwell on what the future now held for him--a +lifetime of bliss with the woman whom he worshipped, and who had given +him the greatest proof of her love a woman can give a man. + +His cherished darling was free--free to become, after a decent +interval had elapsed, his adored, honoured wife in the face of the +world! He thanked God that he had never let his mother know the truth +concerning their past relations. He thanked God again that the only +time the two had met had been in those early days when he and Ivy had +just been friends, and when he, at any rate, had thought that so they +would remain. + +True, his mother was far too clever, too devoted to him, her only +child, not to guess, even then, that he was in love with Ivy. She had +even ventured to say a word to him as to the danger of too close a +friendship with a married woman. And he had bitterly resented it. He +remembered her words, and his answer, “You’re wrong, mother. Ivy +Lexton is the best and purest woman I have ever known!” + +No wonder that, as he had gone in and out of the poor dwellings of his +patients this morning, he had asked himself, again and again, how long +it would be before he and Ivy could declare their love? + +He remembered a war widow in their neighbourhood who had married again +within four months of her husband’s being killed. Still, the world is +very different in peace-time from what it is in war-time. All he would +have to consider would be his own mother’s sense of what was right and +fitting. + +Ivy’s friends? His sensitive lips curled in disdain. They would +scarcely be surprised if she re-married a week after her husband’s +death! + +Then, suddenly, there came over him a feeling which, to such a man as +Roger Gretorex, was painfully like shame. + +Jervis Lexton had been something of a wastrel and all of a fool, but +the young man had also been, according to his lights, a good husband. +It was not Jervis’s fault that Ivy had never loved him. Her heartless, +money-loving mother had forced her into the marriage when she was +almost a child. Such was the story she had told Gretorex, and that +story he implicitly believed. + +He told himself that the only decent thing to do, now, would be to +write her a short note of regret and sympathy, as cold and colourless +as hers had been. + +How he longed, how he ached, to see her! But it was clear she wished +to see no one, not even him, the one closest to her, yet. + +The long morning of pent-up emotion, and of really hard work, had +tired him out--made him feel, too, suddenly very hungry. He got up and +took his hat off the peg on the door, intending to snatch a hasty meal +at a restaurant in Victoria Street hard by. + +Then, just as he was turning towards the door, the telephone bell +rang. With a feeling of irritation he took up the receiver. + +“Yes?” he called out impatiently. + +And then there came over him a thrill of intense joy, for the voice +which said in a tremulous tone, “Is that you, darling?” was Ivy +Lexton’s voice. + +She had not called him “darling” once, since her return to London, and +that though he knew she often used the endearing term, even to the pet +dogs of her women friends. + +“Of course it is,” he answered tenderly. “How are you, dearest? A +little less tired and”--he forced himself to add the word--“unhappy?” + +And then he heard her voice again; but now it was full of a kind of +cold urgency. + +“I’ve something so dreadfully important to say to you--are you alone +in the house?” + +“Absolutely alone,” he called back reassuringly. + +He did not count Mrs. Huntley, the old woman who lived a door or two +off, and who “did” for him, as anybody. + +“Please don’t say my name, and I won’t say yours. Telephones are +tapped sometimes, and I’m so--so frightened,” came the whispered +words. + +There followed a long pause, and Gretorex suddenly felt filled with an +unreasoning sensation of acute apprehension. There had been that in +Ivy’s tremulous tones which he had never heard there before--a note of +horrible fear. + +“Are you listening?” came at last the beloved voice, sounding now +startlingly near. + +“I can hear you perfectly.” + +“Something so dreadful has happened! I don’t know how to tell you. +It’s so--so strange. You’d never guess what it was!” + +He tried to curb his anxiety, his suspense, his impatience. + +“What is it that has happened?” he asked quietly. + +Again there followed a long unnatural pause. Then, at last, Ivy Lexton +breathed the words: + +“The doctors found out yesterday that poor--you know who I mean--did +not die what they call a natural death.” + +“Not a natural death?” he repeated in a tone of amazement. “What do +you mean, darling?” + +“They say he died of some kind of poison.” + +“Poison! D’you mean he committed suicide?” he asked incredulously. + +“Oh, no, they don’t think that.” + +Then, in a tone of great relief, she added: “But I suppose he may have +done so.” + +Gretorex felt not only exceedingly surprised, but inexpressibly +shocked as well. + +“I should be very loth to believe that,” he said at last. + +“What I really want to tell you is that a dreadful man has been to see +me this morning. He’s only been gone about half an hour. I was afraid +to telephone from my own--” She waited a moment, then uttered the word +“house.” “I’m speaking from a call office.” + +“What did the man say? Who was he?” he asked. + +“He had to do with the police and he said he was going to see you as +soon as he’d had something to eat. I said you generally went to your +club to lunch, and that you wouldn’t be back before three.” + +“Why should he want to see me?” Gretorex said wonderingly. + +“He seemed to know so much about you. So much”--her voice sank--“about +_us_. He asked me such funny questions, darling. Of course I told +him--I told him,” her voice faltered, “that you were just a great +friend of mine and of--you know of whom?” + +“So I am. So I was----” + +But Roger Gretorex was no fool, and his whole being had become +flooded, these last few moments, with an awful sensation of dismay and +foreboding. + +“Tell me exactly what it was this man asked you, and what you said to +him, my pet?” + +He tried to make his voice sound confident and reassuring. + +“I can’t tell you everything over the telephone. It would take too +long. He wasn’t really disagreeable. In fact, we ended up quite good +friends. But he said it was his duty to find out the truth, as that +horrible man--you know whom I mean?” + +“No,” he called back rather sharply, “I have no idea whom you mean! +Can’t you speak plainly, darling? No one is in the least likely to be +listening over the wire.” + +And then she breathed the one name that she did breathe during that +strange, to Gretorex that terrible and ominous, telephone +conversation. + +“I mean Dr. Berwick, of course. He told them, I suppose, about you.” + +“Who do you mean by ‘them’?” + +“The people at Scotland Yard.” + +“But what could Dr. Berwick tell anybody about me?” + +“That you used to come to the flat--that we were friends.” + +And then, in an imploring voice that was scarcely audible, she +murmured: + +“You won’t give me away, dear? You will never let anyone know +that----” + +Interrupting her he exclaimed, “There’s nothing to give away! You and +I have only been friends--nothing more.” + +He felt a thrill of relief when she said, in a more natural tone: + +“That’s exactly what I said. I mean that’s what I told the man who +came from Scotland Yard. I think he did believe me at last, but----” + +“Yes?” asked Gretorex anxiously. “But what, my dear?” + +“I was silly enough to let out that you had been rather fond of me, in +a sort of a way.” + +“I’m sorry you did that. I’m afraid that was a mistake. I mean----” + +“I know what you mean! The moment I’d said it I saw what a mistake I’d +made! But he spoke as if he already knew such a lot, or at any rate, +some part of it.” + +He said patiently, “What part of it?” + +“That even if I didn’t care for you, you had been very fond of me.” + +“I don’t see that our private affairs are anyone’s business but our +own,” he said savagely. + +She answered despairingly, “Neither do I. But there it is! I know +he’ll talk about me to you.” + +Gretorex felt as if he were living through a hideous nightmare. What +could, what did, all that Ivy had said, and was saying, mean? + +“There’s something else I must tell you and warn you about, before I +ring off. The man actually asked me, darling, if I’d ever been to see +you--I mean alone. Of course I said no, that I had never been alone to +see you. Why should I? But I did tell him about the time I came to tea +with Rose Arundell, when Captain Chichester came too. The man from +Scotland Yard is sure to ask you about that--at least I’m afraid so.” + +“About my tea-party? Why should he?” + +“No, no,” she cried shrilly. + +Then, in a low tone, she uttered the words, “He’ll certainly ask you +whether I ever came to see you alone, at Ferry Place. Don’t you +understand?” + +“I hear what you say. But everyone we know is aware that we’ve been +great friends. There’s no mystery about it.” + +“That’s what I said. And also that you were so fond of--you know who, +and he so fond of you.” + +To that Gretorex made no answer. In a sense it was true that poor +Jervis Lexton had become quite fond of him, and that this was so had +made him feel wretched and ashamed. + +“Forgive me for having worried you, dear----” + +There was something--he would not even to himself use the +words--cringing, even abject, in the tone in which she uttered that +poor little sentence. + +He answered at once, “You could never worry me, my darling! I can’t +help thinking there’s some queer, spiteful enemy of yours, some cruel +woman, behind all this?” + +She cried hysterically, “It’s a spiteful, cruel man! It’s Dr. +Berwick--I know it is!” + +“But why d’you think that, darling?” + +Gretorex waited a moment, then asked in almost a whisper, “Was he fond +of you? Did he make love to you?” + +She was so long in answering his question that, for a moment, he +thought they had been cut off. Then he heard the muffled reply, “Not +exactly, though of course he liked me. But--but he hated you! I do +know that.” + +“I see,” and he thought that he did. + +“Dr. Berwick wouldn’t sign some kind of a certificate which nurse says +a doctor always has to sign when a person dies,” she went on. “You +know what I mean?” + +“Yes.” + +“That’s why they had what is called a post-mortem, and found out my +poor sweet had been----” her voice faltered. + +It was, even now, like a blow between the eyes for Gretorex to hear +Ivy call Jervis “my poor sweet.” + +Again she waited a while then he heard her whispered, agitated, +half-question: + +“I do so wonder what that man will say to you? I feel so horribly +nervous.” + +He said impatiently, “I don’t suppose he’ll say much. But of course +it’s the business of the police to get in touch with everyone who can +throw even a little light on a mysterious death.” + +“You’ll be very, very careful?” + +For the moment he could not think what she meant. + +Then, with a painful feeling of self-rebuke and fear, he hastened to +reassure her, “Of course I will! Not that there’s anything to be +careful about.” + +“I must go home now,” and he heard her blow him a kiss. + +She hadn’t done that for--it seemed an eternity to him. + +He hung up the receiver, went across to his writing-table, and sat +down. He must think hard, and prepare some sort of story. But even now +he could not imagine why his name, his personality, were being brought +into this mysterious affair of Jervis Lexton’s sudden death. + +Jervis Lexton’s death caused by poison? And the police already making +inquiries? The whole story sounded incredible to Roger Gretorex. He +told himself that of course some extraordinary mistake had been made. +But whose mistake? + +His mind turned at last to Dr. Berwick. He had only seen the man +once--and a damned offensive fellow he had seemed to be! So much did +Gretorex remember. But Berwick was more than that--he was a blackguard +who had made love to a patient’s wife. + +Poor little Ivy! Poor precious little love! No wonder she had been +frightened, made quite unlike her gay, brave self, by the ordeal she +had just gone through. How he longed to go and seize her in his arms, +to bear her away to some place where they could be just +themselves--lovers! + +The thought of a crowded restaurant was intolerable. He no longer felt +hungry. Besides, the man, he supposed him to be a detective, mentioned +by Ivy, would soon be here. + +All at once he heard the sounds made by a broom in the passage +outside. + +He opened the door. “Will you come in here for a moment, Mrs. +Huntley?” + +The old woman shuffled into the room, and he looked at her fixedly. + +“I feel very tired to-day--too tired to go out.” + +Taking a two-shilling piece out of his pocket, he handed it to her: +“Will you get me some pressed beef or ham? I suppose there’s bread and +butter in the house? I’m ashamed to bother you, for I know you’re in a +hurry to get home.” + +Said Mrs. Huntley, with a rather pathetic laugh, “I’d do a good bit +more than that for you, doctor! Why, I’d go to any trouble for you.” + +“Mrs. Huntley?” + +He moved a little nearer to the old woman. + +“You’ve just said that you’d go to any trouble for me----” + +“Ay, and so I would! I’ll never forget how good you were to that poor +daughter of mine. Why, it’s thanks to you that she died easy. I’m not +likely to forget that, however long I may live.” + +“The time has come when you can do something--something very +important--for me,” he said, wondering if he were being wise or +foolish. + +“Can I, sir? You’ve only got to say what it is. I don’t mind no +trouble.” + +“I regard you,” he said slowly, “as a very superior person, as well as +a very trustworthy one, Mrs. Huntley.” + +She grew red with pleasure at his kind, flattering words, and, +troubled as he was, Gretorex’s heart went out to her. + +“All I want you to do,” he went on, “is to hold your tongue on my +behalf. The time may come when you will be asked what sort of visitors +I have received since I came to live here. You may be questioned as to +whether any ladies ever came to see me----” + +He waited a moment, feeling acutely uncomfortable at having to ask the +old woman to lie for him. + +“You will be doing me a great service, Mrs. Huntley, if you will +answer that no friends ever come to see me unless they have an +appointment. Also that, to the best of your belief, the only time you +have ever seen any lady here was when I gave a tea-party some time +ago. Do I make myself quite clear?” + +“Yes, sir, quite clear.” + +“And have I your promise?” + +“Yes, sir, you have my promise.” + +He took her withered, work-worn hand in his. + +“I’m very grateful to you. This may mean more to me than you will ever +know.” + +“I’ll go and get the things for your lunch, sir.” + +She shut the door behind her, and a moment later, as he saw her pass +the window, a hot tide of humiliation seemed to overwhelm him. He had +seen, by the expression on her face, that everything there was to +know, she knew. + +As for Mrs. Huntley, she felt quite sure that Dr. Gretorex, who, +though she knew him to be far from well off, had spared neither time +nor money in his care of her dying daughter, was about to figure as a +co-respondent in a divorce case. + +Well, in so far as she could help him, she’d do anything. Lie for him? +Of course she would! Where’s the good of caring for a person if you’re +not willing to do anything for him or her? Such was Mrs. Huntley’s +simple philosophy of life. She was a good hater as well as a good +lover. In her fashion she loved Gretorex, but she hated Ivy Lexton. + +Those who are called “the poor” are seldom deceived in a man’s or a +woman’s real nature and character. They are too close up against the +hard realities of life to make many mistakes. It requires no +touchstone to teach them the difference between dross and gold. + + +About three o’clock the telephone bell rang again. + +Gretorex hoped for a moment to hear Ivy’s voice again, but it was a +man who asked, “Can I speak to Dr. Roger Gretorex?” + +“My name is Roger Gretorex.” + +“I have a matter of business to discuss with you, Dr. Gretorex; and +I’m telephoning to know if I may come along now, as you are in?” + +“Pray do so. But may I ask your name? And would you mind telling me +your business?” he called back. + +“My name is Orpington. As to my business, it would take too long to +explain. But I will be with you in a very few minutes.” + +Mechanically Gretorex began to tidy his consulting-room. For the first +time in his life he felt horribly afraid, he knew not of what, but +that made his dread of the coming inquisition all the sharper, the +fuller of suspense. + +His mother had managed to keep one conservatory going, and though he +had given away a good many of the flowers he had brought up with him +this morning, there was still a lovely nosegay on his writing-table. +And the sight of these fragrant blossoms recalled poignantly to her +son’s mind the woman who had gathered them for him. Was he going to +bring sorrow, and what to her would be worse than sorrow--shame--on +her honoured name? + + + + + Chapter Ten + +As Inspector Orpington, of the Criminal Investigation Department, +Scotland Yard, entered dusty, poverty-stricken Ferry Place, he made up +his mind that he would be, so far as was possible in the +circumstances, frank with the man he was on his way to see with regard +to Jervis Lexton’s death. + +Like many an Englishman of his type, he had his own clear, if +unexpressed, philosophy of life. He preferred the straight to the +tortuous way, and that, it may incidentally be observed, is true of +all the really successful men in his peculiar line of work. + +Such men naturally suffer from the defects of their qualities. +Inspector Orpington had no belief in what he called to himself the +French methods of criminal investigation. For one thing, he was +convinced, and backed his conviction from experience, that in the vast +majority of cases there is seldom anything mysterious, or out of the +way, even in the best-planned and most intelligent type of crime. + +With regard to the case concerning which he had just been ordered to +make certain preliminary inquiries, the story he had been able to +piece together was even now, from his point of view, a straightforward +story of illicit love leading to a cold-blooded and cruel murder. He +had already interviewed the dead man’s two regular medical attendants, +his trained nurse, and last, but by no means least, his tearful, +hysterical, and singularly attractive young widow. + +Ivy Lexton remained, in Inspector Orpington’s mind, the one point of +doubt and mystery, if indeed “mystery” you could call it, in the +affair. + +He had found it very difficult to make up his mind as to whether Mrs. +Lexton was entirely innocent regarding the events which had led to +Lexton’s death. He had detected certain flaws in the story she had +appeared, in spite of her agitation, so willing to tell. But he had +been naturally impressed by the firm conviction expressed by the two +doctors who had attended Jervis Lexton. They had both declared that +their patient’s wife had been not only innocent, but quite +unsuspicious, of the sinister tragedy which had undoubtedly been +enacted during the fortnight which had preceded her husband’s death. + +Dr. Berwick had said brusquely: “Why, the woman was never there! She +was out morning, noon, and night. I myself only saw her three times, +each time only for a few minutes, and only once with her husband.” + +Orpington had also been struck by the liking both the nurse and the +cook showed for Lexton’s widow; and that though they both admitted she +was selfish and pleasure-loving. + +But what weighed the scale most of all in favour of Ivy’s complete +innocence was the fact that the life of Jervis Lexton had not been +insured, and that with her husband apparently disappeared the poor, +pretty little woman’s only source of income. + +Long experience had convinced Inspector Orpington that there are only +two outstanding motives for secret murder--money, and the passion +called love. As he considered the story in all its bearings, it seemed +plain to him that, whereas it had been very much to Ivy Lexton’s +interest to keep her husband alive, this young man, Roger Gretorex, +had undoubtedly had a strong motive for compassing his death. Mrs. +Lexton, in the course of the long examination and cross-examination to +which she had been submitted this morning, had admitted, albeit with a +certain reluctance, that Roger Gretorex not only passionately loved +her, but had also at various times pestered her with unwelcome +attentions. + + +Everyone interested in the detection of crime is aware that persons +arrested on a charge of murder are always solemnly warned that +anything said by them may be used in evidence against them. But +probably few people know that the giving of any such warning is left +to the discretion of the C.I.D. men who are engaged in those +preliminary inquiries which, in the majority of cases, do end by +bringing a murderer to justice. Certain rules are laid down for their +guidance; but even so a great deal is left to the ordering of their +own consciences, to what each individual considers it fair or unfair +to ask of one who may be actually suspected of having committed the +crime under investigation. + +Orpington’s object was to get at the truth. It was his considered +opinion that the guilty are painfully alive to their danger, and will +go to any length to protect themselves. In their case the plainest +warning is wasted. As to an innocent witness, he believed the best way +to put him or her at ease is to be reasonably frank. + +He felt sure that, in Roger Gretorex, he would find one both +forewarned and forearmed. What he desired to know, as a result of his +coming interview with the young doctor, was how far Mrs. Lexton had +told the truth as to her relations with the man who, owing to his +passion for herself, had almost certainly poisoned her husband. + +Slowly he walked, with the sergeant he had brought with him, down the +now deserted, airless little street. What a contrast to the broad +avenue in which stood the fine block of flats known as Duke of Kent +Mansion! It was difficult to believe that the woman with whom he had +spent over an hour this morning, in the shadowed drawing-room where +everything spelt not only comfort, but affluence and luxury, could +have been on terms of close intimacy with a man who lived in Ferry +Place. + +Before he had time to ring the bell, the narrow front door of the tiny +two-storied house opened, and the person he had come to see and, he +felt sure, to convict of the most hideous and cruel form of murder +known to civilised man, stood before him. + +What a fine young chap! And what a haughty, sombre, defiant +countenance! + +Yet the voice in which Gretorex uttered the commonplace words, “Will +you come in?” was a deep, pleasant, cultivated voice. + +The doctor led his two visitors into his consulting-room, a room +which, though poorly furnished, was yet, as the inspector quickly +noted, that of a man accustomed to the amenities of life. For one +thing he noticed the lovely bunch of fragrant hot-house flowers +standing in a glass on the writing-table. He felt what he very seldom +did feel--surprised. + +As the three men sat down, Gretorex full in what light came in through +his one window, the inspector observed: + +“My name, doctor, as I told you over the telephone, is Orpington, and +I am attached to the Criminal Investigation Department of Scotland +Yard. I have come to ask you certain questions concerning the death of +a gentleman who was at one time, I understand, a patient of yours.” + +“If you will tell me his name, I will look up his case,” said Gretorex +quickly. + +“His name was Jervis Lexton, and his death took place last Tuesday in +Flat 9 of Duke of Kent Mansion, Kensington.” + +“Jervis Lexton was never a patient of mine,” the young man answered +firmly; and then he hesitated, and finally added, “He was a friend--I +suppose I might even say a great friend.” + +“Are you already aware of the circumstances concerning Mr. Jervis +Lexton’s death, Dr. Gretorex?” + +And then Roger Gretorex told the first of the lies he felt it +incumbent on him to tell during this, to him, terrible interview. + +“I’ve been in the country for nearly a week, and I only learnt on my +return here, this morning, of Mr. Lexton’s death. I am as yet unaware +of the circumstances to which I presume I owe your visit.” + +He waited a moment, then told the inspector what was indeed the truth: + +“I was exceedingly surprised to learn of his death, for I had seen him +just before leaving town. Though I thought him far less well than the +last time I had been with him, there was nothing to indicate the +seriousness of his condition.” + +“Yet you told the nurse that you were dismayed by the change in his +appearance?” + +“I daresay I did. She thought him distinctly better, I do remember +that, and I disagreed with her.” + +“You did not ask to see Mr. Lexton, Dr. Gretorex. The nurse tells me +your call was on Mrs. Lexton. As that lady was out, Nurse Bradfield, I +understand, suggested you should see her patient, as she thought it +would cheer him up.” + +“That is so, and I was not with him for more than ten minutes.” + +“You were, I think, alone with him during that time?” + +“Yes, I was.” + +“You went down to the country immediately after seeing him?” + +“Yes. I went to my home in the country the same afternoon, and, as I +told you just now, I only came back this morning.” + +“Mr. Jervis Lexton died during the evening of the day you saw +him--that is, on Tuesday, the 16th of November. His regular medical +attendant, Dr. Berwick, was not satisfied as to the cause of death. A +post-mortem was held on the Thursday, and revealed the fact that +Lexton’s death was due to a large dose of arsenic administered some +hours before death. According to Nurse Bradfield, you, Dr. Gretorex, +were the last person, apart from herself and, I believe, the cook, who +saw him alive. That is why I am here.” + +Gretorex stared at the speaker in silence; and, gradually, all the +colour ebbed from his face. + +In spite of himself the inspector felt sorry for the young man. He +told himself that Roger Gretorex evidently saw the game was up. Still, +the doctor looked the sort of chap who would put up a fight for it. + +Inspector Orpington made an almost imperceptible sign to the sergeant +he had brought with him, and the man at once quietly left the room. + +Orpington got up and looked out of the window until he saw his +sergeant in the street outside. Then he turned and said to Gretorex: + +“I sent my sergeant out of the room, doctor, because I am obliged now +to ask you a question which I thought you would prefer to have put to +you privately. You were, I understand, a friend of Mrs. Lexton’s as +well as a friend of her husband?” + +“I was on terms of friendship with them both,” and his face turned +deeply red. + +“But you saw much more of Mrs. Lexton than you did of her husband?” + +This was a bow drawn at a venture, and it brought down the quarry. + +“I sometimes escorted Mrs. Lexton to a picture gallery, and now and +again we went to a theatre together. But----” he waited a moment, and +the colour ebbed from his face. Though what he was going to say was +true, he hated saying it--“Mr. and Mrs. Lexton always seemed on the +best of terms together.” + +“So I understand. But I am not seeking information as to the relations +of Mr. and Mrs. Lexton. What I wish to suggest, without offence, is +that you, Dr. Gretorex, would have liked to have been on closer terms +of friendship with Mrs. Lexton than she thought it right to allow? I +will be frank with you--Mrs. Lexton has admitted as much.” + +A burning flush again rose to Gretorex’s dark face. Poor Ivy! Poor, +foolish little darling! He did not feel the slightest feeling of anger +with her. He only felt a choking sensation of dismay. Whatever had +possessed her to say such a thing? + +He answered, speaking quietly, passionlessly, “Mrs. Lexton is a very +attractive woman, and a beautiful woman. It is difficult to be with +her without feeling inclined to--well----” and as he hesitated, the +older man smiled. + +“To make love to her? I absolutely agree, Dr. Gretorex. Though she was +naturally very much upset when I saw her this morning, I thought Mrs. +Lexton one of the most engaging, as well as one of the best-looking, +young ladies I had ever come across.” + +Poor Gretorex! He would have liked to have struck Inspector Orpington +across the face, and yet his own words had called up the look that had +so grossly offended him on the other’s countenance, and had also +provoked his remark. + +“Do you admit, Dr. Gretorex, that you were very much attracted to this +lady?” + +“You put me in a difficult position; but I admit that perhaps I did +say one or two foolish things to her.” + +He was wondering, with a feeling of agonising anxiety, whether Ivy had +kept his letters. + +“Did Mrs. Lexton ever by chance come here, to 6 Ferry Place?” + +“She came to tea on one occasion, but not alone, of course. A friend +of hers, a widow called Mrs. Arundell, and a man friend of Mrs. +Arundell’s, came with her.” + +And then Roger Gretorex leant forward: + +“I do hope that you will believe me when I tell you that any--well, +feeling of attraction, was entirely on my side. When I did, I admit +very foolishly, once try to tell her----” + +He stopped, and the other interjected, not unkindly, “How much she +attracted you?” + +Gretorex nodded, and then he gasped out the lying words--“She made me +feel at once she was not that kind of woman.” + +“I suppose,” said the inspector with a twinkle in his eyes, “that Mrs. +Lexton used that very expression.” + +Gretorex tried to smile back. + +“Well, yes, I believe she did. It happened a long time ago, in fact +when I first made the Lextons’ acquaintance.” + +Now this observation gave the direct lie to Ivy Lexton’s statement, +which Orpington honestly believed had been extracted from her against +her will. + +“I suppose that you can suggest no reason why this man, Jervis Lexton, +should have wished to take his own life?” + +“No, none at all. He had just obtained an excellent job.” + +“You can throw no light either, I presume, as to how the arsenic which +undoubtedly caused his death can have been administered to him?” + +“Not only can I throw no light on it, but I find it almost impossible +to believe what my reason tells me is true--your assertion that his +death was directly due to the administration of arsenic.” + +The speaker’s voice was strong, assured. At last he was on firm +ground. + +“I take it there is a surgery attached to this house, and that you +make up your own medicines?” + +The inspector asked that vital question in a very quiet tone, but +Gretorex realised its purport as he answered, “I do--for the most +part.” + +“I should like to see the surgery.” + +“By all means.” + +Roger Gretorex got up. Then he placed his back against the door. + +Instantly Inspector Orpington, though he was a brave man, and had been +in more than one very tight corner, felt a cold tremor run through +him. Was this fine-looking young chap going to whip out a revolver and +kill, not only himself, but also the man whose unpleasant duty it had +been to show him that the game he had been so mad as to play was up? + +But he need not have been afraid. + +“Look here! Before I take you into my surgery, where you will find a +jar of arsenic as likely as not on an open shelf--for I am a careless +chap, and no one has access to the place but myself and my old +charwoman--I want to say something to you. I don’t suppose you will +believe me, but I wish to tell you, here and now, that I have no more +idea of how poor Lexton got at the arsenic which caused his death--if +it did cause it--than you have, and that the one thing of which I am +quite sure is that it did not come out of my surgery.” + + + + + Chapter Eleven + +Instead of doing what he ought to have done--that is, to have sought +at once the best legal aid in his power--Roger Gretorex made up his +mind to go back to Sussex, if only for a few hours. + +Ivy’s words of agonised fear now found an echo in his own heart. His +mother must hear the very few and simple facts concerning Jervis +Lexton’s death from himself. + +On his way to the station he saw two newspaper placards, and he felt +as if it was at him that they shouted the ominous words: + + + KENSINGTON + POISONING + MYSTERY. + + WELL-KNOWN + CLUBMAN + POISONED. + + +He bought an evening paper in the station, and then, when he unfolded +it, he felt a sharp stab of anger and disgust. In the centre of the +front page was a charming portrait of Ivy--Ivy looking her sweetest +and most seductive self. Above and below the photograph was printed a +series of paragraphs dealing with the joyous life the young couple had +led in the care-free existence which centres round the idler members +of the fashionable night-clubs. It was also stated that, on the very +night of Mr. Lexton’s unexpected death, Mrs. Lexton was supping at the +Savoy with “a smart theatre-party.” + +In the grateful darkness of a late November afternoon, Roger Gretorex +walked the two miles which separated the little station from +Anchorford, the village which he still felt part of the very warp and +woof of his life, though he owned practically no land there. All that +his father had been able to keep was the manor house, and the little +portion of the park which had surrounded the dwelling-house of the +owners of Anchorford from the days of Domesday Book. + +Now and again Gretorex, as he hurried through the narrow lanes, would +tell himself that the inexplicable mystery attaching to Jervis +Lexton’s death by poison was bound to be cleared up, and probably in +some quite simple way--a way that he himself was now too excited and +too anxious to think out for himself. + +Then there would come a sudden sensation of doubt, of despondency. +Like Ivy, but with far more cause, Roger Gretorex began to feel as if +a net were closing round him. + +At last he turned into the long avenue which led to Anchorford House, +and his heart leapt when he saw the long Elizabethan front, now bright +with twinkling lights. + +He rang the front door bell, and then he schooled himself to wait +patiently for old Bolton, who, once his father’s head groom, now acted +as general factotum and odd-job man. + +But when, all at once, the door opened, it was his mother, tall, +upright, grey-haired, who stood there, her face full of eager welcome. + +“I knew it was you, my dearest! I don’t believe in presentiments, but +I have been thinking of you all to-day, even more than usual.” + +His face gave no answering smile. He looked very grave, and yet how +young he seemed to her, standing there; how strong, how finely drawn +and carved, was his now serious face! + +“I wish you’d wired, Roger. Enid was coming in to late supper; but +I’ll put her off----” + +“You needn’t do that, mother. It’s true I’ve come down to tell you of +something rather unpleasant that’s just happened to me. But the +telling of it won’t take long. Please don’t put off Enid. In fact I +shall be glad to see her, and I may have to go back to town by the +last train.” + +He followed her across the wide hall which formed the centre of the +old house, and so into a lobby which led to the charming sitting-room +which had always been associated in his mind with his mother. They +both sat down there. But he waited a moment before he began his story +and then in the telling of it he chose his words with painful care. + +“A very odd thing has happened, mother, and I felt I should like to +tell you about it at once.” + +“What is it that has happened, Roger?” + +As he said nothing, she went on quietly, in a matter-of-fact tone: +“Whatever it is, I know quite well that you have not been to blame in +any way.” + +“Well, no, I don’t think I have been to blame. And yet, well, mother, +I’ve not been----” and then he stopped dead. + +For the first time in his life he felt afraid. The extraordinary story +he had come to tell suddenly took on gigantic proportions. Until +to-day, though he had felt discomfort, and something akin to shame, +sometimes, when with Jervis Lexton, Roger Gretorex and Fear had never +met. + +“You remember,” he said at last, “my friend Ivy Lexton? She came down +here for a week-end last winter.” + +“I remember Mrs. Lexton very well,” answered Mrs. Gretorex in a tone +of studious detachment. + +As her son had uttered the name of the woman he called his friend, a +feeling of fear coupled with a sensation of painful jealousy filled +the mother’s heart. Remember the beautiful woman she had instantly +known, without his telling her so, that Roger loved? There had +scarcely been a day in the last few months when she had not +remembered, with a sensation of discomfort, lovely Ivy Lexton. + +“Jervis Lexton, Ivy’s husband, fell ill about three weeks ago----” + +And then again Gretorex felt as if he could not go on. + +“What has happened is put as clearly, here, as anything I can tell +you!” he exclaimed at last, and he handed her the evening paper +containing Ivy’s photograph. + +She took the paper from his hand, and she was in such haste to see +what it was that her son did not dare to tell her himself, that she +did not wait to put on her spectacles. + +Holding the sheet right under her reading lamp, she read the ominous +paragraphs headed “A Kensington Poisoning Mystery” right through. + +“Well,” she said at last, “and in what way, Roger, does this concern +you? Were you acting as Mr. Lexton’s medical attendant?” + +He answered at once, “I’m glad to say I was not. In fact I only saw +the poor chap twice during the whole course of his illness. He was +being looked after by a very good doctor, a man called Berwick.” + +She said again, “Then in what way does this horrible story concern +you, my dear?” + +There followed a long pause, and all at once a certain suspicion +rushed into Mrs. Gretorex’s mind. + +“Is it possible,” she said at last, in a very low voice, “that your +friend Mrs. Lexton is suspected of having poisoned her husband?” + +Roger Gretorex leapt to his feet. + +“Good God--no, mother! Whatever made you think of such a thing?” + +“I don’t know. Forgive me, Roger.” + +For the first time in her life she felt that her son was looking at +her with something like--oh, no, not hatred, but anger, furious anger, +in his blazing eyes. + +He repeated the cruel question: “Whatever made such a monstrous idea +come into your mind?” + +She faltered, “It was foolish of me.” + +“More than foolish--and very unlike you, mother,” he said harshly. + +Then he moved his chair closer to hers, and stretching out his hand, +he took hers. + +“Ivy was the best of wives to Jervis Lexton,” he said in a low voice. +“Lexton ran through a large fortune, and then, instead of trying to +get a job, simply idled about, and lived on his friends. He was a +complete wastrel.” + +“Then isn’t what the paper says true?” she asked in bewilderment. “I +mean about his having joined the firm of Miles Rushworth? I thought +the Rushworths were shipping millionaires?” + +“So they are. And it’s quite true that Lexton had just got a job in +the Rushworths’ London office. He was well connected, and had a lot of +good-natured friends who were always trying to get him something to +do. However----” and then he quoted the familiar Latin tag concerning +ill words of the dead. + +She gazed across at him. His dark face, now convulsed with feeling, +was partly illumined by the lamp which stood on a low table between +them. + +“Is it conceivable, my son----” + +Then she, like him, stopped short, afraid to utter the words she was +going to say. + +“Yes, mother?” + +His voice had suddenly become listless. He had dropped her hand, and +was lying back in his chair. He was feeling spent, worn out. + +“Have you any reason to suppose, my boy, that you are in danger of +being accused of having poisoned Jervis Lexton?” + +He straightened himself, got up, and then gazed down into her pale but +still calm face, and she saw that he looked, if surprised, yet +unutterably relieved. + +“Yes, mother! That is what I came down to tell you. But what made you +hit on the truth?” + +Should she tell him the reason why that frightful thought had come +into her mind? After a moment of indecision, she decided that she +ought to do so. + +“Can’t you guess why that fearful suspicion came into my mind, Roger?” + +His eyes fell before her sad, steady, questioning gaze. + +She went on slowly, “I said a word to you the evening of the day you +brought Mrs. Lexton down here. I suppose you didn’t take my advice?” + +“There are certain things about which a man must judge for himself, +mother. And with regard to my friendship for Mrs. Lexton I judged for +myself.” + +He sat down again and covered his eyes with his right hand. The words +he had just uttered had brought Ivy vividly before him. + +“Now tell me everything, Roger.” + +“There’s very little to tell,” said Gretorex, raising his head. “I +feel sure, quite sure, mother, that there’s some perfectly natural +explanation of what now seems so mysterious.” + +“If, as I hope, you have come down to consult with me as to what is +the best thing to do, then I trust that you will tell me the whole +truth. After all, I am your mother, my darling.” + +Her voice rose in entreaty. + +“Whom should you trust, if you do not trust me?” + +He felt very much moved, and, to her surprise, he came and knelt down +by her. + +She put her arms round him. “Now tell me everything,” she whispered. + +And he did tell her almost everything. But he did not tell her, and he +never told anyone, of his telephone talk with Ivy Lexton. + +His mother was quick to see the flaw in his apparently frank account +of all that had happened that morning. + +“How did you first hear of Mr. Lexton’s death?” she asked. “You were +there, I note from the date given in this paper, on the afternoon of +the day he died. You must in fact have gone straight to the station, +from your unfortunate call on the poor man.” + +“I did, mother.” + +“Then how, and when, did you hear of his death, Roger?” + +He got up and went across to the chair where he had been sitting. + +“I found a note from Ivy when I arrived at Ferry Place this morning. +She knew I was away, and she sent me the note to await me on my +return. It was written, evidently, some days ago.” + +“I hope you have kept her note.” + +He shook his head. “No, mother, I didn’t keep it. There was really +nothing in it--simply the bare statement that Jervis Lexton was dead. +She had had an awful shock, and she said she didn’t want to see +anyone.” + +“Then you’ve not seen Mrs. Lexton since her husband’s death?” + +“No, I have not seen her.” + +There trembled on the poor mother’s lips a further question--“Or had +any further communication with her?” But she feared he might be +tempted to tell her a lie, so she refrained from asking that, to her, +important question. + +Instead she said, “Though you have not put it into words, you feel +sure that the man from Scotland Yard suspects you poisoned Jervis +Lexton so that his wife would be free to marry you?” + +“That is certainly what the inspector had in his mind, when he +questioned me as to my acquaintance with her.” + +“Forgive me for asking you the question, Roger. I suppose you would +marry Mrs. Lexton, if you had the chance?” + +He said at once, “I’d give my soul to marry her, mother. I love +her--love her more, I think, than man ever loved woman.” + +She gave him a searching look. “Does she love you?” + +He hesitated, painfully. “I’ve seen very little of her lately. I know +she felt we were not doing right in seeing as much as we were seeing +of each other.” + +And then he sighed, a long, long sigh. + +“Try to love her, mother. She is free now, and she is all my life. +Please, please try to love her for my sake.” + +“I will, my darling boy.” + +Mrs. Gretorex was ashamed of the hatred--she acknowledged to herself +that it had been hatred--of Ivy Lexton which had filled her heart. She +now told herself that this woman whom her boy adored must have some +good in her. + +There came the sound of the front door opening. + +“Here, I think, is Enid Dent,” exclaimed Mrs. Gretorex. + +Roger jumped up from his chair, and went forward to meet the girl who, +as he knew deep in his heart, loved him. + +Was it because he had known that his mother eagerly desired him to +marry Enid, or was it simply because he knew her too well? Be that as +it may, it had only taken three meetings with Ivy Lexton, the wife of +another man, to blot Enid out from his heart. + +To-day, the most terrible day of his life, the sight of her honest, +thoughtful face brought comfort. For one thing, it was such an +infinite relief to know that in Enid Dent his mother would have an +entirely trustworthy, devoted support and stay, during days which he +feared must be anxious and painful days, terrible days to remember, +though he had no doubt at all as to the ultimate result of any inquiry +into the facts surrounding Lexton’s death. + +As for Enid Dent, she had loved Roger Gretorex with a silent, +unswerving devotion since she had first known what love meant. Though +he himself was scarcely aware of it, his whole manner had changed +during the last few months, and while this caused her sharp anguish, +which she had successfully hidden from those about her, it had never +occurred to her, strangely enough, that that alteration had come about +because of another woman. + +Now, gazing from the mother to the son, she understood at once that +they were both in deep trouble. + +“I’m afraid I’ve come too soon,” she said. + +“I’m glad you came early, my dear. We’re going to have supper in a few +minutes, for Roger has to go back to town to-night.” + +Old Bolton hobbled into the room. + +“Rosie Holt says you promised to see her some time to-day, ma’am. +She’s in the kitchen. Shall I show her into the drawing-room?” + +Mrs. Gretorex made a great effort over herself. + +“Yes, please do, Bolton,” she said quietly, “and I’ll come and see +her.” + +Roger turned to Enid: + +“I wonder if you’d take a short turn before supper? I don’t get nearly +enough exercise in London.” + +“Of course I will.” + +They went into the hall, and she hurried on her hat and coat. It was +fully a year since she had last taken even a short walk with Roger +Gretorex. + +Once they were in the open air, in the kindly darkness, he drew her +arm through his. + +“Enid, I want to tell you something.” + +He spoke almost in a whisper--as if he were afraid he might be +overheard. + +“Yes, Roger?” and she slightly pressed his arm. + +“I’m in trouble,” he said sombrely; “in great trouble, my dear. What +makes it worse is the knowledge of how unhappy it is going to make my +mother.” + +And then at once, for though she was young she was no fool--your +country-bred girl often knows a great deal more of real life than your +town-bred girl--Enid Dent said to herself that Roger’s trouble was +connected with a woman. + +“Tell me all about it,” she said quietly, and she stiffened herself to +bear a blow. + +“I will tell you all about it. But I’m afraid you will be very much +shocked.” + +To that she made no answer. No doubt some London girl was bringing a +breach of promise action against Roger. That was the sort of trouble +Enid Dent visualised. + +“Things are never so bad when one talks them over,” she said, and +tried to smile in the dark night. “Nothing could make me feel any +different to you, Roger. Why, you’re my oldest friend!” + +They were walking away from the house, down a broad path where they +had often played when he was a boy of twelve and she a little girl of +five. + +“No talking can make any difference to my trouble,” and there came a +harsh note in his voice. + +They walked along in silence, and then he gently shook himself free of +her arm. + +“I’ve reason to believe that in the next few days----” + +He stopped short. The ignominy, the horror of what might be going to +happen to him, overwhelmed him. + +“Yes, Roger? What is it that you think is going to happen? Tell me.” + +He would have been surprised, indeed, if she had suddenly uttered +aloud the words that she was saying in her heart, “Don’t you see the +agony I am in? It’s cruel, cruel to keep me in suspense!” + +“I think it possible, perhaps I ought to say likely, that I may be +arrested on a charge of murder, within the next few days.” He uttered +the dread words quietly enough. “And that though I assure you, Enid, +that I am absolutely innocent----” + +She cut across his words, “You needn’t have troubled to tell me that, +Roger.” + +“Though I’m absolutely innocent,” he repeated, “yet I’m beginning to +realise that appearances are very much against me. I’ve felt all this +afternoon as if I were living through a frightful nightmare, and I’m +always expecting to wake up and find it was only a dream, after all.” + +Enid knew that this man she loved had a violent temper. She supposed +that he had had the kind of quarrel with another man in which one of +the two strikes out. + +“I’ve been wondering, during the last few minutes, whether you would +be able to come up to London with my mother? It would be such a +comfort to know you were with her, if this thing really happens.” + +“Of course I will!” she exclaimed. + +He went on: “You’ve always been like a daughter to her, haven’t you? +And I know that, next to me, she loves you best in the world.” + +“I think she does,” she whispered in a strangled voice, for she was +now near to tears. “But a long way after you, Roger.” + +“Well, yes,” he answered, in a matter-of-fact tone; “no doubt a long +way after me. But still she loves you dearly, and she trusts you +utterly, as I do.” + +“I’ll stay with her all through the trouble--if the trouble comes. I +promise you that, Roger.” + +“It’s not that I have any doubt as to the outcome. The man whose death +is being, I feel sure, put down to my account, almost certainly +committed suicide. There’s no other solution possible.” + +“Who was the man?” she asked diffidently. + +“An acquaintance rather than a friend of mine, called Jervis Lexton. +He fell ill--that I have to admit is a mysterious point about the +whole business--about a fortnight ago. He died, rather suddenly, last +week, on the 16th. A post-mortem revealed the cause of death to have +been a virulent poison--arsenic. I saw him alone a few hours before he +died, and I have a jar of arsenic in my surgery. There you have the +story in a nutshell.” + +He spoke in an awkward, constrained tone. + +“Are you really going back to-night?” she asked. “Can’t you stay till +to-morrow morning? It would be such a comfort to Mrs. Gretorex.” + +“I’m afraid I must go back. You see, I’ve a lot of patients, and it +isn’t fair to put all that work on another doctor.” + +“I see.” + +“I wonder if you and my mother can come to town to-morrow? She’d be +wretched, staying on here in suspense, waiting for news of what, after +all, may never happen.” + +They were turning now towards the house, and as they emerged from +under the trees they both noticed that the front door was open. +Through it a shaft of bright light fell on the stone-paved courtyard, +and Gretorex suddenly became aware that, in the shadow, a motor with +hooded lights was drawn up. + +“Who can that be at this time of the evening?” he said, surprised. + +They walked swiftly across the wide lawn, and so on to the stone +pavement. Then, as they passed through the open door, they heard Mrs. +Gretorex’s voice and the unfamiliar voice of a man in the great hall. + +“I think I hear my son coming in. In any case, I assure you he won’t +be long.” + +Mrs. Gretorex uttered the words in a matter-of-fact yet anxious tone, +as if she feared the person she spoke to might not believe her. + +Roger followed Enid through the lobby which separated the front door +from the hall, and then he saw his mother standing with a tall, slight +man whom Roger knew to be the Inspector of Police at Lynchester, the +county town hard by. They had met two months back in connection with a +local poaching affray. + +“May I speak with you for a few moments in private, Dr. Gretorex?” + +A look of great relief had come over the inspector’s face; he was +aware in what high regard Mrs. Gretorex was held throughout the +neighbourhood. He had also noticed the young lady who had just come +in, and knew her for the only daughter of a local magistrate. So he +was anxious to get through the unpleasant business which had brought +him to-night to Anchorford Hall, as quietly and quickly as possible. + +“I’m quite at your service. We’ll go into the smoking-room, but----” + +Gretorex turned right round and began rapidly walking towards the +front door. + +As a matter of fact, the door had been left open, and he wished to +close it. + +But the inspector believed his lawful prey intended to escape into the +darkness, and a hundred suspicious, angry thoughts flashed through his +mind. + +What a thing it would be to have to search the downs and woods all +this coming night! ’Twould be like looking for a needle in a stack of +hay. + +He strode past Mrs. Gretorex, and seized Roger with no gentle hand by +the collar. + +“I’m surprised, sir, at your trying to get away. I didn’t expect such +a thing from you!” + +Gretorex wrenched himself free. + +“I don’t know what you mean!” he exclaimed angrily. + +“Oh, yes, you do. You were making for that door.” + +“I was making for the door to shut it.” + +He was shaking with anger, and the two glared at each other for a +moment in silence. + +Then the inspector took a step forward, and laid his hand on the young +man’s arm. + +“I arrest you,” he said, in a voice that was not quite steady, “on the +charge of having murdered Jervis Lexton on the 16th of this month.” + +Roger Gretorex stood still. Then he asked: + +“May I speak to my mother in private for a moment?” + +“No,” said the inspector quickly. “I cannot allow you to do that, Dr. +Gretorex. I’m sorry, but from now on you are my prisoner.” + +“May I make a statement to you now? I suppose there is no objection to +my telling you that I’m absolutely innocent?” + +The older man hesitated. + +“I should advise you,” he said, not unkindly, “to make no statement. +You are, of course, aware that anything you say may be used against +you in evidence. I need hardly tell you that every facility will be +given you to procure legal advice.” + +“And what is going to happen to me now?” + +“You will go with me to Lynchester, and you will be kept there in a +police cell till you are conveyed to London to-morrow. Once there, as +you probably are aware, Dr. Gretorex, you will be taken to the police +station of the district where the alleged murder was committed, and in +due course you will be charged.” + +Meanwhile the inspector was watching his prisoner closely. He was +remembering that during the brief telephone conversation with Scotland +Yard, which had led to his presence here, he had been reminded how +near Anchorford was to the sea, and he had been warned that he might +find his bird flown. + +What a fool he would look if, after having actually arrested him, this +man effected even a temporary escape! + +“May I shake hands with my mother and--and with my friends?” + +“I will take it on myself to allow you to do that, Dr. Gretorex,” was +the cold reply. “Then, I’m afraid, we must be getting on.” + +“Won’t you allow my son to have some supper before you take him away?” +asked Mrs. Gretorex. For the first time her voice was not quite +steady. “Won’t you both have supper here? It’s quite ready.” + +“No, ma’am, I’m afraid I can’t do that. But I promise you your son +shall have something to eat, as good as I can get him at this time of +night, when we reach Lynchester.” + +The inspector’s voice had become kindly, even respectful, to his +prisoner’s mother. He felt very sorry for her. + +But for Roger Gretorex he was not at all sorry. He had been given to +understand, quite unofficially of course, that there was a married +woman in the case, and that she provided a strong enough motive to +hang a dozen times over the fine young fellow now standing by his +side. + +“What I would advise you to do, ma’am--advising you as a private +person, I mean--would be to go up to London to-morrow morning, and get +in touch with a good solicitor. Dr. Gretorex will be allowed to see +his lawyer alone as much as he can reasonably require. At least that +is the usual procedure.” + +Roger Gretorex held out his hand. Something seemed to warn him that it +would be wiser for him to remain standing exactly where he was +standing now. He felt that the inspector was watching him intently. + +Mrs. Gretorex took a step forward. She shook hands quietly, +unemotionally, with her son. + +And then something very unexpected happened--unexpected, that is, by +every one of the four people there. + +Enid Dent approached Roger a little timidly. Had he not, a few moments +ago, called her his friend? When she was close to him, she looked up +into his face, for he was far taller than she. And then, all at once, +he bent forward and, putting his arms round her, he kissed her +good-bye. + + + + + Chapter Twelve + +As Ivy stepped down out of the telephone box, after her conversation +with Roger Gretorex, she felt, though partially relieved, yet at the +same time agitated and still terribly frightened. She was, indeed, so +much affected that she did not even notice the admiring glance thrown +at her by a man in the next box. + +Her interview that morning with Inspector Orpington and his +subordinate--for he had brought with him a sergeant--had made her feel +sick with fear. True that, after she had answered with apparent +frankness the first probing questions put to her, she had felt, as she +almost always did feel with any man with whom life brought her into +temporary contact, that the inspector was beginning to like her and to +sympathise with her. But, even so, she had experienced this morning +what she had never experienced before--not only a sensation of abject +fear, but also as if she were becoming entangled in a horrible, +close-meshed net. + +During a brief visit to Paris, in the old days when she and Jervis +still had plenty of money to burn, she had gone with a gay party to +the Grand Guignol. There she had seen acted a terrifying little play +which showed the walls of a room closing in on a man. That was exactly +how she had felt during the long examination and cross-examination she +had endured this morning. + +One of the things that had made her feel so dreadfully frightened was +that the two men from Scotland Yard had not begun their investigations +by seeing her, the widow of the dead man. They had first interviewed +Nurse Bradfield, and then the cook. + +While this had been going on, Ivy had waited in the drawing-room, sick +with terror and suspense, wondering what the two women were saying +about her. At long last, the strangers had come into the drawing-room, +looking very grave indeed. + +And now, as she walked back to Duke of Kent Mansion, choosing +instinctively a roundabout way, Ivy kept living over again that +strange, even she had realised momentous, interview. + +The inspector had gone straight to the point. When had she, Mrs. +Jervis Lexton herself, last been in the company of her husband before +his unexpected death? After an imperceptible pause, during which she +was wondering fearfully if Nurse Bradfield had remembered all that had +happened on that sinister last afternoon, she had answered the +question truthfully. She said that she had been with Jervis after +luncheon, while the nurse had gone out for a short time. + +When Ivy had made this admission, there had come a look of alert +questioning on the inspector’s face, for Nurse Bradfield had not +mentioned that fact, which indeed she had forgotten. And then it was, +on seeing the sudden change of countenance on the part of her +inquisitor, that Mrs. Jervis Lexton had gently volunteered the +statement that, after she herself had gone out, the sick man had had +another visitor that afternoon, a friend of her own and her husband’s, +a young man named Roger Gretorex, who was a doctor. + +She had allowed, and consciously allowed, herself to look embarrassed, +as she made what sounded like an admission. As she had intended should +be the case, the inspector had at once run after that hare. But she +had not bargained for what had followed immediately--insistent +questioning as to her own and her husband’s relations with the man who +had been, with the exception of the cook and the nurse, the last +person to see Jervis Lexton alive. + +How long had they known Dr. Gretorex? Did they see much of him? What +had been her own relations with him? When, for instance, had she +herself last seen him before the death of Jervis Lexton? + +At last, when she was beginning to feel as if the meshes of the net +were becoming smaller and smaller, he had “got out of her,” so Ivy put +it to herself, that Roger Gretorex cared for her far more than a +bachelor ought to care for the wife of a friend. + +Nevertheless, everything would now have been “quite all right” from +Ivy’s point of view if it had stopped there. But to her dismay and +surprise, Inspector Orpington suddenly began on quite another tack. + +In spite of the fact, which he assured her he accepted as true, that +she had rejected with indignation Dr. Gretorex’s advances, he +suggested that it was odd that her own and her husband’s friendship +with the young man had gone on. He “presumed” that Lexton had known +nothing of Gretorex’s unwelcome attentions to Mrs. Lexton? Ivy had +reluctantly admitted that that was so. And, as he pressed her, with +one quick, probing question after another, she saw, with a clear, +affrighted, inward vision, that what she had intended should be a +molehill was growing into a mountain. + +At last had come the most alarming query of all--had she ever been to +see Dr. Gretorex at 6 Ferry Place? + +All the questions put to her she had answered with apparent ease and +frankness. And, as to the last, she explained that she had gone to Dr. +Gretorex’s house with a great friend of hers, a lady who had then been +a widow, a Mrs. Arundell, but who had married again, and was now in +India. They had been accompanied by a young man who was a friend of +Mrs. Arundell. + +As to going out with Roger Gretorex, she had done so only +occasionally, and never since he had confessed he loved her. No, never +since her husband’s illness. + +How deeply thankful was Ivy Lexton that she had really seen so little +of Roger Gretorex of late! + +And then, all at once, the inspector had said something which had +made, as she put it to herself, her heart stand still. + +“I suppose there is a surgery attached to the house in Ferry Place?” +he had remarked, speaking his thought aloud. And it had been those +words, as to the probable existence of a surgery, that had suddenly +made up her mind for her as to the line she would take concerning +Roger Gretorex and their relations to one another. + +Did Ivy Lexton then realise the full import of what she had done? Most +certainly not. Subconsciously she was aware that her avowals, her +timorous admissions as to his passion for her lovely self, could do +Gretorex no good. But her only object had been to shift, at any cost, +suspicion from herself. + +There had been an interval, perhaps as long as a quarter of an hour, +when she had been alone with Inspector Orpington. He had sent away his +sergeant into the dining-room next door. At the time she had not known +why. + +Then he had spoken to her kindly, yet in a very solemn, searching +tone, adjuring her to be frank, and to tell him of any knowledge, or +even suspicion, she might harbour in her mind. But though every word +he said added to her secret terror, that terror which was at once +tangible and vague, for she knew nothing of the law, she had been +wary, and very clever, in her answers. + +Then the other man had come back, and to her surprise and horror she +found she was expected to sign a statement. + +“You had better read it over,” the inspector had said quietly. + +And Ivy had read it over, hardly realising what it was she was +reading, but having the wit to know that this man from Scotland Yard +had played fair by her. + +Though in a sense Ivy had said nothing of any importance, apart from +that fatal admission of Roger Gretorex’s love for her, Orpington had +left the flat well satisfied. He believed he now had the threads of +what had seemed at first such a mystery, all clutched up into his +hands. Incidentally, at the end of that long searching inquisition he +had reconstituted every moment of the last day of the dead man’s life. + +But as he had got up to leave, he had suddenly returned to the fact +that Mrs. Lexton had been with her husband alone on that last +afternoon of his life. That the inspector evidently attached +importance to this fact brought back all Ivy’s terrors. But her +remarkable powers of dissimulation stood her in good stead, and she +again gave a pathetic little account of those few last minutes with +her husband. + +“I don’t quite know how long it was. Time went by quickly, for I +thought he was better; and we had a little chat, making up our minds +where we would go when he was well enough to have a change.” + +“Did he have anything to drink--a dose of medicine while you were with +him, Mrs. Lexton?” + +“Oh, no! Nurse was not out long enough for that.” + +And then it was that Orpington made his one mistake. Not that it made +any difference at all in the long run. But, unconsciously, he had been +affected by Ivy’s soft, feminine charm, as well as by her fragile +loveliness. + +“Of course we shall let you know the result of our investigations as +soon as I have concluded my inquiries. As for Dr. Gretorex, I shall go +and see him as soon as I have had something to eat.” + +See Roger? Roger, who was so truthful, so incapable of telling even a +white lie? + +The knowledge that Gretorex was going to be subjected to a searching +examination made her turn faint with fear. Had she been guilty of +folly, and worse than folly, in admitting, nay, in volunteering the +information, that Roger loved her? Within herself she debated that +question. If Orpington had suspected the truth, then, of course, she +had been wise. But had he--had he? + +In any case, the warning of Gretorex had seemed the only thing to do, +and on the whole she now felt strengthened, comforted, by his +unquestioning faith. + +As at last she went up in the lift of the Duke of Kent Mansion, she +heard quick, light steps running up the stairs, and she shivered with +apprehension. But it was only a telegraph boy, and as they arrived +together at the door of the flat, she asked quickly, “Is the name +Lexton?” + +“Yes, ma’am, ‘Mrs. Lexton,’” and he handed her the telegram. + +In her bedroom she tore open the buff envelope and looked first at the +signature: + + + Just read with great concern result post-mortem. Have cabled John Oram + solicitor instructing him to afford you all help financial and other + on my behalf. Sister dangerously ill or would return at once myself. + Please keep me acquainted with any developments. Deepest sympathy. + + Miles Rushworth. + + +She burst into hysterical tears of relief. Nothing, surely, could +happen to her now that Rushworth had come to her help? + +Always Ivy Lexton had been sheltered, guarded, lifted over the rough +places of life by men--men who had been conquered, pressed into her +service, by that alluring quality which means so much more than +beauty. But not one of the many men to whom she had cause to be +grateful in her life had been in the powerful position of Miles +Rushworth, as regarded either character or wealth. + +She lay down on the comfortable couch which stood at right angles to +her pretty bed. It was the first time she had ever done so, for she +was a strong young woman, in spite of the air of delicacy which added +so much to her charm in the eyes of many people, women as well as men. +But she felt tired--dreadfully, consciously tired, to-day. + +She closed her eyes and, deliberately, she lived over again +Rushworth’s last long, passionate embrace on the yacht. It was as if +she heard spoken aloud his ardent, broken-hearted words, “_If only you +were free!_” + +Well? She was free now, even at what she was beginning to realise +might be a fearful cost. Even so, it could only be a question of +months, perhaps of weeks, before she became Rushworth’s wife. + +She opened her eyes and smiled for the first time that day, a radiant, +secretly confident smile. + +Leaping off the couch she read through Rushworth’s long telegram +again. + +John Oram? What a curious name. Being a solicitor, he must be on the +telephone. She would ring him up immediately after she had had lunch, +and ask him to come and see her. + +Going into the hall, she called out, in almost a joyous voice, “Nurse? +Here I am! I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting.” + +Nurse Bradfield came slowly down the corridor. The events of the last +few days had aged her, and Ivy was struck by her sad, bewildered +expression. She secretly wondered why Nurse Bradfield looked so old +and unlike herself? Nurse Bradfield, lucky woman, had nothing to be +afraid of. + +Ivy Lexton never knew all she owed to the woman who had tended Jervis +Lexton through his last illness. When Inspector Orpington had done +with the nurse, he had formed, albeit unconsciously, a very definite +view of the dead man’s widow. Thus, even before he had seen Ivy, he +had accepted Nurse Bradfield’s view of young Mrs. Lexton’s nature and +way of life. That is, he regarded her as selfish, feather-headed, and +extravagant; but good-natured, easy-going, and quite incapable of +planning and of executing such a crime as that which had brought about +her husband’s death. + +That Jervis Lexton had died as the result of a foul crime on the part +of some man or woman who had a strong motive for wishing him to be +obliterated had appeared plain to the man in charge of the case, even +before he had interviewed any of the people concerned with it. + +But if Ivy, unknowingly, had reason to be grateful to Nurse Bradfield, +Nurse Bradfield just now had cause to be very grateful to Ivy. It +meant a great deal to her that she could stay on here, in this +luxurious flat, living in quietude and comfort, instead of going back +to the hostel which was her only “home” between her cases. + +She had already learnt, and great was her dismay thereat, that she +would become an important witness for the Crown, should the mystery be +so far cleared up as to bring about a trial for murder. Small wonder +that to-day she felt too upset and too disturbed to eat, and she +watched, with surprise, Ivy’s evident enjoyment of the good luncheon +put before them. + +The nurse was the more secretly astonished at the newly made widow’s +look of cheerfulness because she was well aware that “little Mrs. +Lexton” was most uncomfortably short of money. + +All that morning, and especially during the latter half of that +morning, there had come a procession of tradespeople to the flat +requesting immediate payment of their accounts. Some of them had been +interviewed by the cook, others by Nurse Bradfield herself. As for +Ivy, she had absolutely refused to see any of them. “I have no money +at all just now,” she had observed sadly. “But of course everybody +will be paid in time.” + +Nurse Bradfield had even begun to wonder if she would ever be repaid a +certain ten pounds which she had lent Mrs. Lexton a few days before. +But she was not as much troubled by that thought as some of Ivy +Lexton’s fairly well-to-do friends might have been. She even told +herself that, after all, she was now receiving far more than ten +pounds’ worth of comfort and quiet. + +As if something of what she was thinking flashed from the nurse’s mind +to hers, Ivy said suddenly, “I shall have plenty of money soon, Nurse. +And the moment I’ve got anything I’ll give you back that money you +were kind enough to lend me.” + +There was a tone of real sincerity in her voice, and Nurse Bradfield +felt reassured. + +“I only want it back,” she said quietly, “when you can really give it +me conveniently, Mrs. Lexton. Of course ten pounds is a good deal of +money to me. But now that I know poor Mr. Lexton was not insured, I +realise that things must be very difficult for you.” + +“It’s going to be quite all right,” exclaimed Ivy impulsively. + +Oh! what a difference to life Rushworth’s cable had made! She felt +almost hysterical with joy and relief. + +And then, as there came a ring at the bell, she said quickly to the +maid who was waiting at table, “Do tell whoever it is that I shall be +able to pay up everything soon--I hope even within the next few days.” + +But this time the visitor was not an anxious tradesman. He was a tall, +thin, elderly man, with a keen, shrewd face, who gave his name as “Mr. +Oram.” + +After a few moments spent by him in the hall, he was shown into the +drawing-room, there to wait for the lady concerning whom he already +felt a keen curiosity. + + + + + Chapter Thirteen + +John Oram was an old-fashioned solicitor of very high standing. His +firm had always managed all the private business of the Rushworth +family, and he was a personal friend of the client from whom he had +received a long and explicit cable about two hours ago. The receipt of +that cable, and above all the way it had been worded, had induced Mr. +Oram to come himself to Duke of Kent Mansion, instead of sending one +of his clerks. He felt intensely curious to see this newly made widow +in whom Miles Rushworth evidently took so intimate and anxious an +interest. + +Rushworth’s cable to John Oram had been nearly three times the length +of his cable to Ivy; and the purport of it had been that the solicitor +was to help Mrs. Lexton in every way in his power. The last words of +the cable had run: “Find out from Mrs. Lexton the name of her bankers, +and place two thousand pounds to her credit.” + +After reading the cable, Mr. Oram had sent for his head clerk, an +acute, clever man named Alfred Finch, who was some twenty years +younger than himself. + +“Can you tell me anything of some people of the name of Lexton, who +live in Duke of Kent Mansion? I gather there’s some sort of legal +trouble afoot.” + +The answer had been immediate, and had filled him with both surprise +and dismay. + +“Yes, sir, I know all there is to be known. It’s not very much, yet. A +Mr. Jervis Lexton died some days ago in one of the Duke of Kent +Mansion flats. And, as the result of a post-mortem, it has been +discovered that death was occasioned through the administration of a +large dose of arsenic.” + +The speaker waited a moment. His curiosity was considerably whetted, +for he had seen a look of astonishment, almost of horror, come over +his employer’s usually impassive face. + +Alfred Finch went on, speaking in a more serious tone: + +“This Mr. Jervis Lexton must have been a man of means, for you may +remember, sir, that he drew up the lease of a flat in Duke of Kent +Mansion for the Misses Rushworth about eighteen months ago.” + +“Aye, aye, I do remember that. I think the rent of their flat was four +hundred a year, and the two ladies had to pay a considerable premium +on going in. As you say, the Lextons must be well-to-do.” + +Mr. Finch allowed himself to smile. + +“There’s only one of them now, sir--the dead man’s widow. She’s said +to be very attractive, and well known in smart society.” + +“I see. That will do.” + +It was no wonder that John Oram, while waiting in the drawing-room of +the flat for Ivy to join him, gazed about him with a good deal of +interest. Then, all at once, he recognised a fine picture which he +knew to be the property of the Misses Rushworth, his clients, and +Miles Rushworth’s cousins. In a moment what had appeared a mystery was +to his mind cleared up. There must be, there was, of course, some sort +of connection between the Rushworths and the Lextons; and the rich, +precise, old-fashioned maiden ladies, who, he now remembered, were +wintering abroad, had lent their flat to these family connections. + +That would explain everything--Miles Rushworth’s urgent cable, as also +his evident anxiety that everything should be done to help and succour +Mrs. Lexton in her distress. + +Just as he came to this satisfactory explanation of what had puzzled +and disturbed him, the door of the drawing-room opened, and Ivy walked +in. + +She held out her little hand. “Mr. Oram?” she cried eagerly, “I’m so +glad to see you! I had a cable just before lunch from Mr. Rushworth, +telling me that you were going to help me. Everything is so dreadful, +so extraordinary, that I feel utterly bewildered, as well as +miserable----” and then tears strangled her voice. + +For a moment her visitor said nothing. He was amazed at her exceeding +loveliness, puzzled also, for he was very observant, by the expression +which now lit up the beautiful face before him. Though tears were +running down her cheeks, it was such a happy expression. + +“Won’t you sit down?” + +Her tone was quite subdued now; the hysterical excitement which had +been there had died out of her voice. + +He obeyed her silently, and there shot over Ivy Lexton a quick feeling +of misgiving. Mr. Oram looked so grave, so stern, and he was gazing at +her with so curiously close a scrutiny. + +“It’s very kind of you to have come so soon,” she said nervously. + +“I am anxious to help you in every way possible, Mrs. Lexton,” he +answered quietly. + +Though the old solicitor was exceedingly impressed by Ivy’s beauty, +instead of being attracted, he felt, if anything, slightly repelled, +by her appearance. + +For one thing, he was sufficiently old-fashioned to feel really +surprised, and even shocked, by her “make-up.” + +Ivy had made up more than usual this morning, and before coming into +the drawing-room just now she had used her lipstick quite recklessly. +So it was that while Mr. Oram asked her certain questions, each one of +which was to the point, and allowed for but very little prevarication +on her part, he avoided looking straight at her. + +How astounding, he said to himself with dismay, that such a woman +should be a friend of Miles Rushworth! A direct question had shown him +that she had no knowledge of, or even a bowing acquaintance with, the +Misses Rushworth. + +At last he said rather coldly, “I take it you are in possession of +very little money?” + +“Very little,” she answered, almost in a whisper. + +“At the request of Mr. Miles Rushworth, I have a sum of money to place +at your disposal. As a matter of fact, it is a considerable sum--two +thousand pounds. If you will tell me who are your bankers, I----” + +And then Ivy, keeping the joy she felt out of her voice, interrupted +him: + +“I have not got a banking account, Mr. Oram. I had one many years ago, +before my husband lost all his money, but I have not had one for over +three years. And oh! it’s been so inconvenient.” + +A kinder look came into the lawyer’s grave face. + +“In that case, Mrs. Lexton, I advise you to open an account at the +local branch of the Birmingham Bank. It is close here, in Kensington +High Street. Mr. Rushworth informed me in his cable that you would +probably stay on in this flat for the next few weeks.” + +“I should like to do that,” she said in a low tone. + +“Your husband, I understand, was a great friend of Mr. Rushworth?” + +“Yes, my husband was working in Mr. Rushworth’s office when he fell +ill.” + +“Was he indeed?” + +That the Lextons could be what the sender of the cable had called “my +closest friends” had surprised the solicitor. He had believed himself +acquainted with all Miles Rushworth’s intimate circle. + +Ivy had come across a good many lawyers in her life, and she had +always found them bright, cheery, and pleasant. All of them, to a man, +had admired her, and made her feel that they did so. + +Very, very different was this lawyer’s attitude. She realised that he +did not approve of her, and she even suspected that he regretted his +client’s interest in her. That was quite enough for Ivy, and she began +to long intensely for Mr. Oram to go away. She had already made up her +mind that he was “horrid,” and she was sorry indeed that such a man +should be Miles Rushworth’s representative. + +“I will pay in the cheque to the Birmingham Bank to-morrow morning, +Mrs. Lexton,” said the solicitor. “I will call for you, if I may, at +eleven, for you will have to come too, in order that the manager may +register your signature.” + +At last he got up, and then he said suddenly: “Have you yet seen +anyone from the police?” + +“Yes, I saw a gentleman from Scotland Yard this morning.” + +“I trust your legal adviser was present.” + +“I have no legal adviser,” and she looked at him surprised. + +“I’m sorry for that. I had hoped to learn that you had a solicitor, +and that he had been present. However, I don’t suppose it will make +any odds. I presume you told the gentleman from Scotland Yard +everything that it was within your power to tell him, concerning the +mysterious circumstances surrounding Mr. Lexton’s death?” + +“Yes, I did,” she said falteringly. + +It seemed to her that he was looking at her with such a hard, cold +look on his bloodless face. She even had a queer feeling that this Mr. +Oram could see right through her, and she felt a touch of deadly +terror. + +But Ivy’s fears were quite unfounded. The solicitor’s view of Ivy +Lexton was very much what “the gentleman from Scotland Yard’s” had +been. But whereas Inspector Orpington had liked and pitied her, +Rushworth’s lawyer already regretted that, if only as a matter of +common humanity, he must now secure for her the best legal advice in +his power. + +John Oram had the faults of his qualities. His life’s work had brought +him in contact with more than one skilful adventuress. But against +such a woman, when she came across his path, the dice were already +loaded. + +Thus he had never had much trouble with the kind of girl who +infatuates a foolish “elder son,” and then, maybe, tries to extract an +enormous sum out of him by a threat of a breach of promise case. More +difficult to deal with had he found, in his long career as a family +solicitor, the sort of woman blackmailer who has letters in her +possession. But, even in regard to that type of woman, Mr. Oram, with +the law on his side, invariably came out of the duel triumphant. + +He had never had to do, even remotely, with a case of murder, and the +last thing that would have occurred to his mind was that this lovely +young fribble of a woman--for such was his old-fashioned +expression--could be a secret poisoner. + +“I think you must authorise me to instruct counsel to represent you at +the inquest which I understand is about to be held.” + +“What is counsel?” asked Ivy. + +She felt surprised and uneasy. Was this disagreeable old man going to +run up what she knew was called “a lawyer’s bill” which she would have +to pay out of Rushworth’s munificent gift? + +Mr. Oram looked at her with scarce concealed contempt. + +“A counsel,” he replied drily, “is any member of the Bar. But +naturally some are better than others, and, with your permission, I +will obtain for you the services of a gentleman who is thoroughly +experienced in cases of this kind.” + + +The next morning Mr. Oram arrived at his office early, and, after +glancing over his letters, he had just made out a cheque for two +thousand pounds to “the order of Mrs. Ivy Lexton,” when a card was +brought into his private room. But before he looked at the card he had +already fully made up his mind that he could see no one, however +important their business might be, till his return from Kensington. + +Already the solicitor and his head clerk, Alfred Finch, had gone into +the question of who should represent Mrs. Lexton at the inquest, and +at the various other proceedings which were likely to take place in +connection with Jervis Lexton’s mysterious death. Money, as the saying +is, being no object, they had selected as her counsel one known to +them to be by far the soundest man for that sort of watching brief. + +The old lawyer was sorry indeed that Miles Rushworth had brought him +in touch with what he termed to himself “this very unpleasant +business.” + +His feeling was not shared by his head clerk. Alfred Finch was already +keenly interested in the Lexton case. He was an intelligent man, keen +about his work whatever it might be, and he already had managed to +make certain pertinent inquiries. Indeed, he very much startled Mr. +Oram by a remark he made towards the end of their discussion. + +“They do say, sir, that Scotland Yard as good as know already who +poisoned Mr. Lexton. I think it quite probable that you will see the +news of an arrest on the newspaper placards on your way to Duke of +Kent Mansion.” + +“What sort of person has been, or is to be, arrested, Finch? Have you +discovered that?” + +“Well, sir, I haven’t yet got hold of the man’s name. But I gather +he’s a gentleman, and one who was described to me as--” he coughed +discreetly “--a beau of Mrs. Lexton. Mrs. Lexton seems to have been a +bit of a flyer, sir. She was out every night dancing at what they call +a smart night-club, or in some big hotel, during the days when her +unfortunate husband was being slowly done to death by this friend of +hers.” + +“Have you heard anything serious against Mrs. Lexton’s character?” + +Mr. Oram was very old-fashioned. The term “night-club” signified to +him something vaguely terrible, and utterly disreputable. + +“Oh, no, sir, there’s nothing against her. On the contrary, the story +goes that, though the man under suspicion was crazy about her, she +only flirted with him, so to speak. Mrs. Lexton, it seems, gave him +away, quite unknowingly, to the C.I.D. inspector who is in charge of +the case.” + +Finch smiled, “They say it’s likely to be the most important case of +the kind there’s been at the Old Bailey for many a long day. The +public are about ready for another murder mystery.” + +“Not much mystery about it, if your information is correct, Finch,” +observed Mr. Oram grimly. + +“It’s Mrs. Lexton--they say she is such a very pretty, smart little +lady--who will provide the mystery and the sensation, sir. She’ll be +the principal witness for the Crown.” + +Mr. Oram felt very much disturbed on hearing this piece of +information. + +“I do not regard myself as being in any sense Mrs. Lexton’s legal +representative,” he said stiffly. “With regard to this lady, I am +simply acting as Mr. Miles Rushworth’s solicitor.” + +And now, just as he was reaching out for his hat and coat, feeling +more perturbed than he would have cared to acknowledge, a client for +whom he had a great regard called to see him. Though John Oram was not +the kind of man who changes his mind lightly when he saw whose name +was engraved on the card which had been brought in to him, the lawyer +at once made up his mind that he must spare time for this visitor. + +For one thing, her business must be serious, for she lived in the +country, and this was the first time she had ever called on him +without first making an appointment. Further, she was a widowed lady +he had known since he was quite a young man, and for whom he had a +very high esteem, and, it might almost be said, affection. But he had +despised her husband, and he did not really like her son--though the +son had none of the faults which had brought his father to ruin. +Lastly, Mr. Oram was willing to see this client because she was a +woman of few words. She would tell him at once why she wished to see +him, and then she would go away. + +“Show Mrs. Gretorex in,” he said quickly. + +“There is a young lady with her, sir.” + +“A young lady?” + +Did that mean that Roger Gretorex was thinking of getting married? If +so, unless the girl had money, he would be doing a very foolish and +improvident thing. Mr. Oram did not really think that this was at all +likely to be the reason for Mrs. Gretorex’s unexpected visit; but a +solicitor is apt to consider every possibility. + +However, Mr. Oram’s old friend and client came unaccompanied through +the baize door of his private room. Mrs. Gretorex had left Enid in the +waiting-room, for there were certain things which she knew she would +have to say, and which she felt she could only say when alone with the +solicitor. + +As she looked at her old lawyer’s stern face, though the expression on +it was just a little softer than usual, even her high courage +faltered. + +“Perhaps you know, Mr. Oram,” she said in a low voice, “what it is +that has brought me here this morning?” + +“No,” he said, surprised, “I have no idea at all, Mrs. Gretorex----” + +He could see she was very much disturbed, and he drew forward a chair. +After all, it wouldn’t hurt that frivolous little widow to wait for an +extra half-hour or so for the two thousand pounds Miles Rushworth was +so rashly presenting to her free and for nothing. Mr. Oram’s knowledge +of human nature told him that probably a very great deal more money +was coming Ivy’s way from the same source as this money came from. + +Mrs. Gretorex bent a little forward. She fixed her sunken eyes, for +she had not slept at all the night before, on the lawyer’s face. + +“Roger has been arrested on the charge of having murdered a man called +Jervis Lexton----” + +“Roger arrested on a charge of murder? God bless my soul!” + +He took off his eyeglasses and began cleaning them mechanically with a +small piece of wash-leather which he kept for that purpose. + +Here was indeed a complication! And a very troublesome as well as a +painful complication, from his point of view. His own connection with +the Gretorex family was hereditary. His grandfather had been, not only +the lawyer, but the very close friend and trustee, of Mrs. Gretorex’s +father-in-law. As for the rich Rushworths, they were in Mr. Oram’s +estimation mere upstarts compared to the ancient, if now impoverished, +county family. + +“If you don’t mind,” he said suddenly, “I’ll send for Finch. In a case +of this sort two heads are better than one. Also Finch can take notes +of any information you can give me about the matter.” + +Mrs. Gretorex would much rather have told her story to this good old +friend alone. But she saw the sense of his suggestion, and they both +waited in silence till the head clerk came in. + +Mrs. Gretorex rose and shook hands with Mr. Finch. She was well +acquainted with him, and she had always liked him. + +“May I tell Finch what you have just told me?” Mr. Oram asked. + +She bent her head, overwhelmed with a passion of agony and shame. + +“Mrs. Gretorex has brought bad news, Finch. Her son has just been +arrested on the charge of having caused the death, I presume by the +administration of arsenic, of Mr. Jervis Lexton. I take it”--and he +looked very straight into the younger man’s face--“that you had no +notion of this fact, when you told me, this morning, that you had +heard that an arrest was about to be effected in connection with the +Lexton affair?” + +Alfred Finch prided himself on his self-control, and wise lack of +emotion, where anything connected with business was concerned. But his +face was full of dismay as he answered instantly, “No name at all was +mentioned, sir. I was simply told that an arrest was imminent.” + +He turned to Mrs. Gretorex. “When was it that Mr. Roger was arrested?” +He had known “Mr. Roger” from childhood. + +Tears welled up to her tired eyes. “Last evening,” she answered. + +“I wish he’d sent for us at once,” Finch exclaimed. “It’s always +important to get one’s blow in first, and especially over a matter of +this kind.” + +“My son was arrested at Anchorford House. I came up by the night +train, as the police inspector from Lynchester said he would be +brought to town the first thing this morning. I suppose he is in +London by now.” + +Finch looked at his employer. + +“In that case, don’t you think, sir, that I’d better go off at once +and try to find Dr. Gretorex? Let me see. Where would he be charged?” + +Mentally he answered his own question. Then he observed, “I hope he +made no statement to the police?” + +“He wished to make a statement, but the inspector advised him not to +do so.” + +“You think, Finch, that you’d better go off now, instantly?” + +“I’m sure of it, sir. Even now, I fear I shall be too late to stop his +saying something he’d best keep to himself.” + +“I feel quite sure he has nothing to hide,” said Mrs. Gretorex rather +stiffly. But neither of the two men made any comment on that. + +Mr. Oram was the first to break the silence. + +“Very well, Finch. You go off,” he said. “Start at once! And of course +no expense is to be spared?” + +He glanced at his client, and she quickly nodded. + +“Meanwhile, I’ll make rough notes of any information that Mrs. +Gretorex is good enough to give me. But I don’t suppose she really +knows very much.” + +And then in a serious tone he asked her, “Were you yourself acquainted +with Mr. and Mrs. Lexton?” + +He put the question just as the other man was leaving the room, and +Mrs. Gretorex saw Finch stay his steps. It was clear that he wished to +hear her answer. + +“I’ve never seen Mr. Lexton; but Mrs. Lexton spent a week-end at +Anchorford last winter.” + +Both men noticed the somewhat embarrassed way in which Roger +Gretorex’s mother answered that question. + +At last, reluctantly, Finch shut the door. How useful it would be, +sometimes, to find oneself in two places at once! + +Being the manner of woman she was, Mrs. Gretorex did not try to +conceal anything of what was in her heart from her old and trusted +friend. + +“I am absolutely certain, Mr. Oram, that Roger had nothing to do with +Mr. Lexton’s death. On the other hand, it would be dishonest to +conceal from you my conviction that he is in terrible danger.” + +“What makes you think that, if you are certain he is innocent?” + +“Because,” answered Mrs. Gretorex in a low tone, “he loves this woman, +Ivy Lexton, desperately. He admitted as much to me last night, before +we supposed there was any fear of an immediate arrest, but after he +had already had an interview with someone from Scotland Yard----” + +“Roger in love with a married woman. That’s the last thing I should +have expected to hear!” + +Mr. Oram got up. “I have a bit of business I must attend to this +morning, Mrs. Gretorex. But I suggest that you wait here till a +telephone message comes through from Finch.” + +As they shook hands, “I beg you, I implore you,” she said in a stifled +voice, “to try and believe Roger innocent.” + +Mr. Oram said to himself, “I will--until he is proved guilty.” Aloud +he exclaimed: + +“Of course I believe him innocent! But, Mrs. Gretorex, I have +something very serious to say to you; that is, I feel that this is not +the kind of case of which I have the necessary experience, and I doubt +if I should be able to afford your son the kind of legal assistance +which he needs.” + +He saw a look of terror and of fear flash over her face. + +“Don’t desert me in my extremity!” she exclaimed. “You know as well as +I do that I haven’t a single man relation in the world. You, Mr. Oram, +are my only hope.” And he saw that tears were rolling down her cheeks. + +“If you feel that, Mrs. Gretorex, then be assured that I shall do my +best for Roger.” + + + + + Chapter Fourteen + +While that, to both of them, woeful conversation was going on +between the mother of Roger Gretorex and the old lawyer, Ivy Lexton +sat in her drawing-room, waiting impatiently for John Oram, and--his +cheque. + +She felt quite differently from what she had felt the day before, and +happier from every point of view. For fear, that most haunting of +secret house-mates, had gone from her. Indeed, after seeing Mr. Oram, +she had spent the rest of the afternoon at the establishment of the +dressmaker who was just then the fashion in her set. Whilst there she +had bought four black frocks “off the peg,” and she had also ordered a +splendid fur coat. + +No wonder that she was now waiting feverishly for the old lawyer to +call and take her across to the bank. Two thousand pounds? What an +enormous lot of money! It was the first time Ivy had had even a +quarter of such a sum absolutely at her disposal. In the old days, +when Jervis was still a man of means, she had never had a regular +allowance. She had simply run up bills, and Jervis, grumbling +good-naturedly, had paid them. + +But the moments, the minutes, the quarters of an hour slipped by, and +Mr. Oram dallied. What could have happened? She had become +uncomfortably aware yesterday that Miles Rushworth’s solicitor did not +like her, and that he thought Rushworth’s interest in her strange and +inexplicable, so she began to feel thoroughly “rattled,” as she +expressed it to herself. + +At last she heard the lift stop outside the flat. What did that +portend? The longed-for coming of Mr. Oram with his bountiful cheque, +or more trouble for her, for poor little Ivy? + +Then she gave a gasp--but it was a gasp of joy, for she had heard the +lawyer’s frigid voice inquiring whether she were in. Before the maid +could open the door of the drawing-room she had opened it herself and +exclaimed, “Is it Mr. Oram?” + +She was too full of instinctive tact when dealing with any man to +utter even a light word of reproach, though the solicitor was over an +hour later than he had said he would be. + +Mr. Oram walked into the drawing-room, and then, very deliberately, he +shut the door behind him. + +Again there came over Ivy a sick feeling of fear. He looked stern, +forbidding, and as a certain kind of man looks when he is the bearer +of bad news. + +“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said abruptly, “but I couldn’t help myself. +I’ve brought the cheque, and we will proceed in a few moments to the +bank. But first I would like to tell you, Mrs. Lexton, that +circumstances have arisen that will make it impossible for me to act +as your lawyer with regard to any proceedings that may arise in +connection with your husband’s death.” + +He cleared his throat, and then went on: “As I cannot act for you, I +will find you a first-class man, who will probably have far more time +to devote to your affairs than I should have been able to do.” + +She looked at him, wondering what this really meant, and a tide of +dismay welled up in her heart. + +“But Mr. Rushworth,” she began falteringly, “again told me, in a cable +that I received only this morning, that you would do everything you +could for me, Mr. Oram?” + +She had not meant to tell anyone of that long, intimately-worded +cable, the first in which Rushworth had allowed something of his +intense exultation at the knowledge that she was now free to pierce +through the measured words. It seemed to her impossible that anyone +could disregard the wishes of so important and, above all, so wealthy +a man as Miles Rushworth. To Ivy the sound of money talking drowned +every other sound in life. But this, to her discomfiture, was not the +case with John Oram. + +“I know that,” and this time he spoke more kindly. “And I’m sorry I +shall not be able to do what Mr. Rushworth very naturally hoped I +could do. But I have discovered----” and then he stopped for what +seemed to her a long time. + +He was wondering whether she was yet aware that Roger Gretorex had +been arrested on the charge of having murdered her husband. Already +the fact was billed in all the early editions of the evening papers. + +“The truth is,” he began again, and in a colder tone, “not only I, but +my father before me, and my grandfather before him, acted in a legal +capacity for the Gretorex family.” + +The colour rushed into Ivy’s face. She said defensively, “But need +that make any difference, Mr. Oram?” + +“Well, yes, I’m sorry to say that it will, Mrs. Lexton. Roger +Gretorex, as you are no doubt aware, was arrested last night on a +charge of having poisoned Mr. Jervis Lexton. He has put his interests +in my hands. It would not be to your advantage were you to employ the +same solicitor as the man who is accused of having murdered your +husband. I am sure,” he cleared his throat, “you are aware of what Dr. +Gretorex’s motive is supposed to have been, assuming that he is guilty +of that of which he is accused?” + +Ivy looked so frightened that for a moment he thought she was going to +faint. + +Then she hadn’t known of Gretorex’s arrest? Even John Oram, who was +already strongly prejudiced against her, could not doubt that the +horror and distress with which she heard his news were genuine. + +She sank down into a chair. + +“But this is terrible--terrible!” she moaned. + +“It is terrible, Mrs. Lexton. And, incidentally, you see, now, how I +am situated? When I came here to see you yesterday, I naturally did +not associate my friend and client, Dr. Roger Gretorex, with the +strange and mysterious circumstances surrounding your husband’s death. +I have not yet seen a copy of the statement you appear to have made to +the inspector who came to see you from Scotland Yard; but I gather +that you made certain admissions that were very detrimental to my +client.” + +“The man pressed me so! I didn’t want to hurt Roger,” she exclaimed, +and thought she spoke the truth. + +Twenty minutes later, as the two came out of the bank, Mr. Oram said +quietly: + +“With your permission, Mrs. Lexton, I am going to put you in touch +with an old friend of mine, a most able lawyer named Paxton-Smith. He +will not only watch your interests in a general sense, but you can +trust him to give you the soundest advice. In your place, I would make +a point of being frank with him concerning everything connected with +your husband’s life as well as with his death.” + +It was strange what a feeling of repugnance, almost of horror, this +beautiful girl--for she looked a girl--inspired in him. But that, so +he told himself, for he tried to be fair-minded, was no doubt owing to +the way Roger Gretorex’s mother had spoken of Ivy Lexton that morning. + +“Tell Mr. Paxton-Smith, as far you know it, the truth, the whole +truth, and nothing but the truth,” he went on. “Many ladies, when in +conference with their legal adviser, are tempted to hold something +back. There can be no greater mistake. You can be absolutely sure of +Mr. Paxton-Smith’s discretion; and unless he knows everything you can +tell him, it will be impossible for him to advise you adequately.” + +She was gazing at him with affrighted eyes. Tell the truth, the whole +truth, and nothing but the truth? Why, she couldn’t even begin to +think of doing that! But, even so, the old lawyer’s words impressed +her. Why, oh! why, had she been tempted to tell the man from Scotland +Yard that half-truth as to Roger and his love for her? By now, when it +had become clear to her that no one suspected her, she had almost +forgotten what had brought about that dangerous admission. + +“You are, I understand, going to be the chief witness for the Crown,” +said Mr. Oram solemnly. + +“I didn’t know that! What does being that mean?” faltered Ivy. + +“It means,” he said drily, “that the prosecution is counting on you to +aid them in proving that Roger Gretorex became that most despicable of +human beings, a slow, secret poisoner, in order that you might be free +to become his wife.” + +She unconsciously stayed her steps, and was staring up at him as if +hypnotised by his words. + +He looked down fixedly into her face. What lay hidden behind those +lovely eyes, that exquisite little mouth, now spoilt, according to his +taste, by a smear of scarlet paint? + +“Only God knows the secrets of all hearts, Mrs. Lexton. I have not +asked you, and I do not propose to ask you, if you believe that +unhappy young man to be guilty of the fearful crime of which he is +accused, and for which he is about to stand on trial for his life. But +if there is any doubt in your mind, and, far more, if you believe him +innocent, I beg you, earnestly, to consider and weigh every word you +utter from now on.” + +But, even as he made that appeal, moved out of his usual cautious self +by his real regard for Roger Gretorex and his intense pity for Roger’s +mother, he felt convinced that Ivy Lexton would, in all circumstances +and contingencies, only consider herself and what was to her own +advantage. + +How amazing that such a man as was Miles Rushworth should be moved to +passion by such a frivolous, mindless, selfish woman! But that such +was the case John Oram had far too much knowledge of human nature to +doubt, even for a moment. He was, indeed, by now as sure as was Ivy +herself that, in due course, Mrs. Jervis Lexton would become Mrs. +Miles Rushworth. + +Suddenly Ivy said something which very much surprised her companion, +and made him dislike her even more than he already disliked her. + +“Are you going to cable everything that has happened to Mr. +Rushworth?” she asked in a frightened tone. + +“Mr. Rushworth will learn precisely what the Cape Town newspapers +choose to publish, and what you choose to cable to him. He has not +asked me to communicate with him, and I am not proposing to do so.” + +He held out his hand. “And now I must say good-bye, Mrs. Lexton. I +will try to arrange that Mr. Paxton-Smith shall ring you up before +lunch. He will then make an appointment to see you. I should like, if +I may, to give you one word of advice. It is this. Refuse, however +great the temptation, to disclose anything that concerns your +husband’s death to anyone, excepting, of course, to Mr. Paxton-Smith.” + +“Then shan’t I see you again?” she asked. + +Though deep in her heart she was glad to be seeing the last of Mr. +Oram, she knew him to be her only link, in London, with Miles +Rushworth. + +“Should Mr. Rushworth cable me instructions to do so, I shall of +course transmit to you any money or any messages he may choose to send +through me. But, apart from that, it is clear that in your own +interest Roger Gretorex’s legal adviser should have no more +communication with you.” + + +That same afternoon Philip Paxton-Smith had his first interview with +Ivy Lexton. Unlike John Oram, he took an instant fancy to the +prettiest client and most attractive little woman, so he told himself, +that a Providence which was apt to be kind in that way to the shrewd +and popular solicitor had ever sent his way. + +So it was that, after a very few moments, Ivy found herself chatting +to him almost happily. + +He listened with unaffected, indeed absorbed, interest to her +sentimental half-true, half-false, account of her first meeting with +Roger Gretorex. Of how the young man had “fallen for her” at once, and +how she had seen coming, and tried to stave off, his declaration of +passionate love. + +She also managed to convey to her new friend’s sympathetic ears what +manner of man she now desired Jervis Lexton to be supposed to have +been. Easy-going, good-tempered, devoted to her, and yet entirely +selfish, frightfully extravagant, and, when they were not out together +enjoying a good time, a great deal at his club. + +“Poor lonely little woman,” said the lawyer to himself. “The real +wonder is that she remained as straight as she did.” + +Paxton-Smith and his partner did a very different class of business +from that associated with the firm of which John Oram was now senior +partner. They were constantly associated with what are loosely called +“society cases,” and Paxton-Smith himself, something of a gay +bachelor, was seen a good deal in that section of the London world +which seems to live for pleasure. He was well liked by men. As for +women, well, he liked women--and they liked him too. + +During his first interview with Ivy Lexton, after he had, as he +believed, won her entire confidence, he cleverly led her to give an +almost verbatim report of the conversation which she had had with +Inspector Orpington. And though once or twice he shook his head when +he heard what she had admitted, he was able to do to her what he +failed to do to himself, that is, make her believe that, on the whole, +she had been wise rather than unwise in her dealings with the man in +whose charge had been the preliminary inquiries concerning her +husband’s death. + +Philip Paxton-Smith was both a clever man and a clever lawyer. But +“this dear little woman,” as he already called her to himself, was +more than a match for him. How amazed would he have been could some +entity outside himself have been able to convince him, at the end of +the two and a half hours that he spent with Ivy Lexton that afternoon, +that she had, as a matter of fact, so completely deceived him as to +make him believe her everything she was not! + +True, he had begun by thinking her just a little stupid; but he had +ended by realising that she was far more intelligent than many of the +women with whom he was in contact. That, naturally, had made him like +her all the more, for there is nothing more tiresome or annoying to +any good lawyer than having to deal with a dull and obstinate client. + +As for Ivy, she was happier after Paxton-Smith had left her than she +had felt since the terrible moment when the card of Inspector +Orpington had first been brought in to her. + +Not only did the genial lawyer inspire her with confidence, but she +was naturally pleased and relieved to feel that he believed everything +she told him. It was such a comfort, such a moral support, to feel +that he “liked” her, and that he was going to do his very best to help +her through what even she now realised was going to be a dangerous and +anxious time. + + +By the morning following the day of Ivy’s first memorable interview +with her lawyer, it was obvious to all those concerned with the case +that what was already called “The Lexton Mystery” was going to develop +into a _cause célèbre_. + +Already the personality of Jervis Lexton’s young widow was becoming of +moment, indeed of absorbing interest, to hundreds of thousands of +newspaper readers. And as the dark, early winter days slipped by, men +and women engaged in wordy combat as to whether she was the sweet, +wholly innocent, guileless woman portrayed by her admirers, or a +typical example of the selfish, heartless, extravagant little minx +old-fashioned folk are wont to describe the modern girl and young +woman. + +Very soon her exquisite face became as familiar to the public as those +of the more popular actresses. She, not Roger Gretorex, emerged as the +central figure of this drama of love and death; this if only because +she was, to the mind of everyone interested in the story, the one +point of mystery. + +Had she loved in secret the good-looking young doctor who had almost +certainly slowly, craftily, done to death the man who was now +described as having been his best friend? Or was it, as she was said +to aver, the truth that Gretorex had adored her with no touch of +encouragement on her part? + +Here and there some were found ready to whisper that perhaps “Ivy” had +been “in it.” But they were a small minority of the vast public +interested in such a story, and, for the most part, they kept their +view to themselves. It is a dangerous thing to libel the +living--especially a woman blessed with as many ardent champions as +was Jervis Lexton’s widow. + +And Ivy herself? For a little while Ivy remained unaware of the +amazing interest which was already being taken in her past thoughts, +past secret emotions, and past way of life. + +She went through many anxious, troubled solitary hours till, all at +once, those acquaintances, both men and women, who become friends at a +moment’s notice, crowded round her, pleased and excited to be +associated with so terrible and mysterious an affair. + +Their new mission in life, so they pretended to themselves and others, +was to try to cheer up poor pretty little Ivy in her solitude. It must +be admitted that these, for the most part, young friends, succeeded in +their laudable object to an extent that sometimes amazed Paxton-Smith. + +Those giddy, good-natured, carelessly heartless men and women all took +so absolutely for granted the fact that Roger Gretorex had committed +murder for love of Ivy Lexton. Some of the men about her indeed hinted +with a half-smile that they could well understand the poor chap’s +motive. + +One of them, the well-to-do idle bachelor who had been about with her +so much this last autumn, and who was acting as her cavalier at the +theatre and supper party on the evening of Jervis’s death, actually +said to her, “I wouldn’t back myself not to have done the same thing +in his place! After all, ‘opportunity makes the crime.’” + +But, if comforted, she had also been stung by that well-worn saying; +for she knew, better than anyone in the whole world just now, how +great is the awful truth embodied in those trite words. + +The women who gathered round Ivy Lexton during those days were not all +inspired by morbid curiosity and excitement. Especially was Lady Flora +Desmond very kind to her. + +Lady Flora thought she understood something of what Mrs. Lexton must +be feeling because she herself had gone through such a terrible agony +when her husband had died. Lady Flora was a real support to Ivy during +those long days of waiting for the day when she would be compelled to +appear as chief witness for the Crown at the trial of Roger Gretorex. + +True, this kind friend wanted to take her away to her country cottage, +but Ivy refused with quiet obstinacy. She knew that she would go +melancholy mad were she left with no one to talk to except one +affectionate, sympathising woman friend. + +Mrs. Jervis Lexton had plenty of good excuses for remaining in London, +for, during the comparatively short time which elapsed between +Gretorex’s arrest and the opening of his trial, there took place the +long-drawn-out legal formalities of which the public are only aware to +an extent which whets, without satisfying, curiosity. + +But at last everything was “in order”; so Paxton-Smith put it to the +woman to whom he found himself devoting far more thought, as well as +time, than he had ever done before to any client, however charming, in +his successful legal career. + +The shrewd solicitor sometimes felt something like angry contempt for +the foolish, selfish, talkative men and women who buzzed round the +young widow during these, to him, anxious and tiring days. He supposed +himself, naturally enough, to be just now her only real stand-by in +life. + +How amazed, how piqued, he would have been, had some tricksy spirit +whispered in his ear the news that every morning, and sometimes in the +evening too, Ivy received a long cable of sympathy, support, and even, +as the days went on, of disguised passion! + +Of that passion of love which can assume so infinite a variety of +shapes and disguises, Ivy Lexton had had many an exciting experience, +but none so satisfying as that conveyed thousands of miles, and in a +shadowy form, from the man for whom, as she now dimly realised, she +had run at any rate the risk of a shameful and horrible death. + + +Ivy, for once, was quite alone, lying down in the drawing-room, +reading a magazine, one evening, when suddenly the door opened. + +“Mrs. Gretorex wishes to see you, madam,” said the maid in a nervous +tone. + +Ivy leapt up from the sofa, and by the shaded light of the reading +lamp which had stood close to her elbow, she saw a tall, +spectral-looking figure advancing into the room. + +But it was a firm and very clear voice that exclaimed: “I did not +write and ask you to receive me, Mrs. Lexton, as I feared you might +say ‘No.’ I’m not acting on Mr. Oram’s advice in thus coming to see +you, but I know he doubts, as I do too, if you are really aware in +what deadly danger my son now stands?” + +“Do sit down,” murmured Ivy. + +She felt a surge of angry fear of Roger Gretorex’s mother, but she had +quickly made up her mind to be what she called “sweet” to her +unwelcome visitor. When, always against her will, the thought of +Gretorex forced itself on her mind, there was coupled with it the +terrifying perception that by now he must be well aware of who it was +who had brought about the death of Jervis Lexton. + +“Appearances,” said Mrs. Gretorex in a low, quiet voice, “are very +much against Roger. His counsel is thinking, we understand, of putting +forward a theory that your husband committed suicide. I have come to +ask you if you can advance anything to add even a tinge of probability +to that theory? Was there insanity in Mr. Lexton’s family? Did he, +above all, say, even once, that he might be tempted to take his life?” + +These clear, passionless questions gave Ivy no opportunity for the +display of her special gifts. She asked herself nervously what she +ought to say in answer to these definite queries. + +Would it be to her interest to allow it to be thought that she, at any +rate, believed it possible that Jervis had done away with himself? +Then she decided that, no, it would not pay her to accept what +everyone who had ever come in contact with her husband, including +Nurse Bradfield, and the two doctors who had been attending him, would +know to be impossible. So: + +“I never heard him say anything of that sort,” she answered +regretfully, “except in fun, of course.” She added, as an +afterthought, “But I know how much Jervis hated to be poor, Mrs. +Gretorex.” + +The older woman threw an imperceptible look round the luxurious room. + +“But he wasn’t poor,” she said quickly. “He had just got, or so we +understand, a good new post.” + +“I know he had. That’s one of the things that makes it all so +dreadful----” + +And then Mrs. Gretorex, who was herself a very honest woman, felt +impelled to ask what was perhaps a dangerous question. + +“I need hardly ask you what you think? Whatever be the truth, you do +not believe, Mrs. Lexton, that my son poisoned your husband?” + +Ivy did not answer for what seemed to Mrs. Gretorex a long, long time. +Then she exclaimed, twisting her fingers together: + +“It’s no good asking me that sort of thing, because I honestly don’t +know what to think. It’s all so strange!” + +“But surely you know Roger to be innocent?” + +Ivy let her eyes drop. + +“Of course, I want to think that,” she said in a low tone. + +“You want to think it, Mrs. Lexton? D’you mean that you have any doubt +about it?” + +Again Ivy twisted her fingers together. + +“It’s all so strange,” she repeated falteringly. “And it’s so +unfortunate that Dr. Gretorex was the last one to see my husband alone +on the day he died.” + +Mrs. Gretorex got up. + +“I see,” she said in a dull tone. “Then you are half inclined to +believe that Roger did do this terrible thing--for love, I suppose, of +you?” + +And there flashed a look of awful condemnation over the mother’s worn +face. + +“Please don’t say that, Mrs. Gretorex! I never said that I thought +poor Roger really did it!” cried Ivy hysterically. “Perhaps Jervis did +commit suicide, but, as nurse says, if he did poison himself, where +did he get the stuff to do it with? Also Roger was so fearfully gone +on me. It’s all so very, very strange!” + +Oh, why had Mrs. Gretorex come here, just to torture her and frighten +her? It was too cruel! + +Then Roger Gretorex’s mother did make to the woman who stood before +her, this woman whom her son loved to his undoing, a desperate appeal, +though she worded what she had to say quietly enough. + +“I understand that you’re going to be the principal witness for the +Crown at my son’s trial?” + +Ivy began to cry. + +“Yes,” she sobbed. “Isn’t it dreadful--dreadful? As if I hadn’t gone +through enough without having to go through that too!” + +“On what you say,” went on Mrs. Gretorex firmly, “may depend Roger’s +life or death. After all, you and he were dear friends?” + +She uttered that last sentence in a tone she strove to make +conciliatory. + +Ivy stopped crying. Then Roger hadn’t given her away, even to a very +little extent, to his mother? It was a great relief to know that. + +“I implore you to guard your tongue when you are in the witness-box,” +went on Mrs. Gretorex. + +“I will! I will indeed----” + +“Can you think of no natural explanation with regard to the utterly +mysterious thing which happened?” + +Her eyes were fixed imploringly on the beautiful little face of this +frivolous--Mrs. Gretorex believed mindless--woman, whom Roger still +loved so desperately. + +“I’ve thought, and thought, and thought----” whispered Ivy. + +And then for the fourth time during this brief interview she uttered +the words, “It’s all so strange.” + + +As, a few minutes later, she walked down Kensington High Street, still +full of bustling, happy people on shopping intent, Roger Gretorex’s +mother was in an agony of doubt, wondering whether she had done well +or ill in thus forcing herself on Mrs. Jervis Lexton. + +Again and again there echoed in her ear the silly, vulgar little +phrase: “Roger was so fearfully gone on me.” + +Gone on her? Alas, that had been, that was still, only too true. Even +now his one thought seemed to be how to spare Ivy pain, and, above +all, disgrace. + +She stepped up into a crowded omnibus at the corner of Chapel Street, +and for a while she had to stand. Then a girl gave up her seat to her, +and heavily she sat down. + +Who, looking however closely at Mrs. Gretorex sitting there, her worn +face calm and still, would have thought her other than an +old-fashioned, highly bred lady, leading the placid life of her +fortunate class, that class which even now is financially secure, and +seems to be so far apart from and above the sordid ills and anxieties +of ordinary humanity? + +Yet there can be little doubt that Roger Gretorex’s mother was the +most miserable and the most unhappy woman of the many miserable and +unhappy women in London that night. To the anguish, which was now her +perpetual lot, was added a feeling that she had done, if anything, +harm, in forcing herself on Mrs. Lexton. + +“I’ve done no good!” she exclaimed as she walked into the sitting-room +of the lodgings in Ebury Street where she and Enid Dent had taken +refuge, after spending two or three days with a kind friend who, they +had soon discovered though no word had been said, considered Roger +almost certainly guilty. + +The girl looked dismayed, for it had been at her suggestion that Mrs. +Gretorex had gone to Duke of Kent Mansion. + +Enid Dent now felt convinced that Ivy Lexton held the key to the +mystery of Jervis Lexton’s death. She had never seen this woman whom +she now knew that Roger loved, but she had formed a fairly clear and +true impression of Ivy’s nature and character. Hatred, as well as +love, has sometimes the power of tearing asunder the most skilfully +woven web of lies. + +And then there began for them all what seemed an interminable time of +waiting. And all those nearly concerned with the case, apart from Ivy +herself, felt almost a sense of relief when the winter day at last +dawned which was to see Roger Gretorex stand his trial at the Old +Bailey. + + + + + Chapter Fifteen + +During the night which preceded the day when Ivy Lexton was to +appear as chief witness for the Crown, she lay awake, hour after hour, +dreading with an awful dread the ordeal that lay before her. + +Her chattering, excited circle of friends had all unwittingly +terrified her with their accounts of how Gretorex’s counsel, Sir +Joseph Molloy, was apt to deal with a witness. And in the watches of +the night, Ivy, shivering, saw herself faced by that ruthless +cross-examiner. + +What was this formidable advocate going to say to her, to get out of +her, by what one of her admirers had laughingly called “his exercise +of the Third Degree?” + +For the first time the widow of Jervis Lexton realised how insincere +and how shallow were the sympathy and the cloying flattery with which +she was now surrounded. Only two human beings seemed really sorry at +the thought of what was going to happen to her to-morrow--Lady Flora +Desmond and Philip Paxton-Smith. + +The concern manifested by her solicitor made Ivy feel sick with +apprehension. He had spent hours with her trying to teach her what she +had to say; that is, what to admit, what to deny, during her +cross-examination. + +It was plain, dreadfully plain, to her, that Paxton-Smith was very +much afraid of how the great Sir Joseph Molloy would treat her when he +had her in his power. + +Again and again, during that long winter night, she asked herself with +terror whether Sir Joseph could have found out anything with regard to +her past relations with Roger Gretorex. + +She knew Gretorex far too well to suppose, even for a moment, that he +had given her away. But the short interview with Roger’s mother, +though she, Ivy, had appeared to come out of it so well, had left a +frightening impression. And she shivered as she recalled the terrible +expression which had come over Mrs. Gretorex’s face when making to her +the appeal which she had rejected with words implying that she, too, +believed the man who loved her had been guilty of a terrible crime. + +Ivy even asked herself with a kind of angry resentment, in the +darkness of the night, why Roger Gretorex had not done this thing of +which he stood accused? + +Her own set, the men and women round her, all seemed to think it +natural, in a sense, that he should have done it. And yet, though he +had had many opportunities of ridding himself of Jervis Lexton, in the +days when he had been so much with them, and though the only bar at +one moment which had stood in the way of his happiness had been the +life of Jervis Lexton, the thought of doing such a thing had evidently +never even occurred to his mind! + +Looking back, Ivy knew that there had been a time last winter when, +had she then become a widow, she would have married Gretorex. She had +been--how curious to remember that time now, though it was less than a +year ago--infatuated with the splendid-looking young man who loved her +with so intense and passionate a devotion. + +She remembered, also, how reckless she had been in those old days. +Anyone but Jervis would have suspected the truth. Thank God, she +hadn’t known Miles Rushworth, even slightly, during those mad weeks of +what she had called her love for Roger Gretorex. Rushworth would have +guessed, nay more, he would have known, what was going on. + +Had Roger’s mother suspected the truth? Almost certainly, yes. If Mrs. +Gretorex thought it would help Roger, she would of course tell the +famous advocate who was now fighting for her son’s life what she +believed had been the real relations between her son and the woman who +was to be the chief witness against him. + +Always it was to Sir Joseph Molloy, the man whose name she had never +heard till, say, a fortnight ago, that Ivy’s thoughts turned with +dread, during those endless hours of darkness when she tossed this way +and that through the long night. + +Nurse Bradfield had had a terrible time in the witness-box. Indeed, +she had confessed to Ivy last evening that Sir Joseph could have made +her say black was white and wrong right! He had dwelt with sinister +insistence on the short time that she, Mrs. Lexton, had been left +alone with Mr. Lexton on that fatal last afternoon; nay, more, he had +almost gone so far as to imply that, had Nurse Bradfield been faithful +to her trust and had not gone out for those few minutes, Jervis Lexton +might be alive to-day. Also he had called her “Woman!” She had even +appealed to the Judge to protect her--not that that had done her much +good. + +The nurse’s account of the ordeal she had been through filled Ivy with +such foreboding that she would have done anything, even gone back to +the old black days when she and Jervis lived in those poverty-stricken +Pimlico lodgings, if she could thereby have wiped out all that had +happened since. + +When at last there came the morning, she got up, pale and really ill. +Then she waited, in an extremity of nervous fear, till, at last, there +came the moment when Mr. Paxton-Smith, looking, so she told herself, +like an undertaker, and not at all like his usual jovial self, called +in his car to take her to the Old Bailey. + +During their long drive in the crowded streets the lawyer remained +almost entirely silent. He had explained and made her rehearse +yesterday, carefully and kindly, everything she must say and refrain +from saying. + +When passing the Piccadilly end of Bond Street, for the chauffeur, +chauffeur-like, had taken them the longest way, a sob escaped Ivy. +There had risen before her a vision of care-free, happy nights, spent +in dancing, and in what old-fashioned people would have called riotous +living, within a few yards of where the car was now being held up in +the traffic. + +After they had gone on again, her frightened eyes caught glimpses of +the newspaper placards. On each one was blazoned forth her now +notorious name: + + + LEXTON MYSTERY. + LEXTON MURDER. + NURSE IN THE BOX. + + +Though she was singularly unimaginative, Ivy shuddered as she told +herself that, in a couple of hours from now, maybe, there would be the +words, “Mrs. Lexton in the Box,” or, worse by far, “Mrs. Lexton +Cross-examined.” + +At last, after what seemed both to Paxton-Smith and to his client a +long drive, the car drew up by a side door of the great frowning +building called by that name of dread to every evildoer the Old +Bailey. + + +What an awesome, and in some ways superb, spectacle is the scene +presented by every British trial for murder! And if this is always +true, even in the humblest country town Assize Court, how much more +tense and awe-inspiring is what takes place in the courthouse of the +Old Bailey, when the prisoner in the dock is the central figure in a +murder mystery which has suddenly become world-famous. Especially is +this true when the accused man is putting up a struggle, not only for +his life, but what to some men really does mean more than life--his +honour. + +Since the war there has appeared in London a new world of idle, +luxury-loving human beings who live for pleasure, and who, if their +income is fluctuating and uncertain, yet mysteriously appear always +plentifully provided with ready money to burn on what they call “fun.” + +To the eyes of those composing this new world, lovely Ivy Lexton, and +good-humoured, popular Jervis Lexton, had been familiar figures, +especially during the years when they were merrily engaged in running +through their capital. All these people regarded the trial of Roger +Gretorex as a spectacle produced and staked for their special benefit, +and while the more enterprising and fortunate among them attended each +day the exciting proceedings at the Old Bailey, the others all read +with avid interest the full accounts of the trial which appeared every +morning in whatever happened to be their favourite daily paper. + +Although the case was called the Lexton Mystery, none of the hundreds +of thousands of Roger Gretorex’s fellow-countrymen and countrywomen, +who were following each detail of the story as unfolded now day by day +in Court, considered that there was very much mystery about it. What +was of tense interest, and what formed the real enigma, was the latest +variant of the eternal triangle--the story of the relations of the +three, wife, husband, and lover. + +One doubt remained in many a mind. That doubt concerned the relations +of Ivy Lexton and of Roger Gretorex. To what extent, if any, had that +beautiful young woman been involved in her lover’s guilt? Was it true +that her own feelings, with regard to the young man who had slowly +done a husband to death so that a wife should be free, had been simply +those which it was known she was going into the witness-box to swear +they had been? Had they really been feelings of kindly and +indifferent, not to say tepid, friendship? + +Another question which is always being asked by every student of human +nature was asked in this case--that is, whether a certain kind of +exalted passion, the passionate love of a man for a woman which leads +to crime, can exist without even a touch of secret encouragement? + +The more worldly-wise shook their heads, and said that, whatever +romantic poets and novelists may aver, such entirely unrequited +passion on the part of an intelligent, educated man is impossible. +Surely, before such a man as Roger Gretorex had set out to do that +awful thing, he must, at any rate, have had some cause to believe that +Ivy Lexton, when widowed, would become his wife? + +There was yet another point which made this judicial drama appear, to +use a phrase sometimes used in such a connection, “a full-dress +trial.” Justice may be blind, yet she can see the glitter of gold. No +money had been spared on either side. Indeed, judging by the array of +counsel engaged, there must have been limitless wealth available for +the defence. And, in a sense, there was, for Mrs. Gretorex had thrown +all the fortune that remained to her into the struggle for her son’s +life. + + +And now, on the fourth day, was approaching the great moment of Roger +Gretorex’s trial for murder. The highest peak of the fever chart of +this drama, which was being watched not only by those who were present +in Court, but by hundreds of thousands of English-speaking people all +over the world, was now about to be reached. + +There came a peculiar rustle through the Court, followed by a moment +of complete silence, as Ivy Lexton stepped, with short, dainty steps +into the witness-box, and faced what appeared to her a myriad world of +eyes fixed on her pale countenance. In accordance with a strong hint +given yesterday by her solicitor, Ivy had not made up her face at all +to-day. + +Paxton-Smith, as the tense moments flew by, felt full of admiration +for his beautiful client. + +Ivy even remembered everything that he had advised with regard to her +behaviour when in the witness-box, including certain things she might +well have been pardoned for forgetting. One of these had been that, +when answering counsel for the Crown, she should hold her head well +up. + +This she obviously tried to do, and when, as more than once happened, +she threw what looked like a childlike glance of fear and supplication +at the kind, if grave, face of the inquisitor whose only desire was to +learn the truth and nothing but the truth, a thrill of sympathy went +through her great, silent audience. + +Again, when the flawless oval of her face appeared framed in the tiny +little pull-on black hat, and her star-like eyes for a moment looked +wild, many a man, watching her, told himself that he could well +understand, indeed almost sympathise with, any crime being committed +by one who loved her, and who longed, as only lovers long, to have the +exquisite creature standing there at bay entirely his own. + +But one curious thing was observed by those who note such things. This +was that not once did Ivy Lexton glance at the prisoner in the dock, +during the long examination-in-chief. + +As for Gretorex, he on his side crossed his arms and stared straight +before him as if with unseeing eyes, during the whole of the time the +woman he had loved with so devoted and trusting a love, remained in +the witness-box. + +Sir Jonathan Wright, the leading counsel for the Crown, to whom fate +had assigned Ivy Lexton as his principal witness, was very gentle with +her, moved, no doubt, by her evident, shrinking fear. But all those +present in Court were struck by the clear way she answered the +questions concerning her early married life, the loss of Jervis’s +fortune, and his final, successful, effort, to find work. + +It was not until she was questioned as to her relations--her +“friendship,” as counsel put it--with the prisoner that Ivy’s voice +for the first time became inaudible, and that the Judge had to +admonish her to speak louder. + +But at once she responded with pathetic submission to the flick of the +whip. + +“I am sorry to have to press the question, Mrs. Lexton”--and the +distinguished man on whom had fallen the, to him, painful duty of +conducting the prosecution did feel really sorry for this lovely, +pathetic-looking, young creature--“but I put to you, and most +solemnly, the question: What were your real relations to and with Dr. +Gretorex?” + +“We were great friends. All three of us were great friends. My +husband, too,” she answered, in a tone which, if clear, yet quivered +with pain. + +“Were your husband and Dr. Gretorex friends before you ever met Dr. +Gretorex?” + +Then came a whispered, “I don’t know.” + +“Eh, what?” + +The Judge, Mr. Justice Mayhew, was old, but none the less keen and +clear as regarded his mind, though he was slightly deaf. + +“She does not know, my lord,” said Sir Jonathan emphatically. + +Then he turned back to his witness. + +“Do you think they were already acquainted?” + +“I really don’t know.” And then, perhaps because she saw she was +creating a less good impression than had been the case with regard to +her other answers, “I think not,” she said firmly. + +As the examination went on, it became clear that Ivy Lexton was +painfully anxious to say all that was good of Roger Gretorex. More +than once she managed to bring into one of her answers to a short +question the fact that he had been kind to her--very, very kind. + +And those who listened breathlessly to Ivy’s artless story of how the +prisoner in the dock had come to love her, were moved by her apparent +surprise and gratitude that he should have been “so kind” to her. + +With quivering lips, again and again, in no wise checked by the man +who was taking her, step by step, through the story of these last few +months, she said a good word for the now tragic lover with whom she +had been on those terms--peculiar, and yet how usual nowadays--when a +beautiful young married woman, while enchanted to take all she can +from a man, will yet give nothing in exchange. + +And with every word she uttered, with every apparently spontaneous +admission, Ivy threw a secret thought over the sea to Miles Rushworth, +and of what he would think to-morrow of what she said, and left +unsaid, to-day. + +How strangely drawn out appeared that first portion of her ordeal, to +Ivy herself, and to the man now on trial for his life! Not so to those +who listened, with ever-increasing curiosity and excitement, to her +admissions, omissions, and equivocations. + +But it was generally agreed that, as a matter of fact, the murdered +man’s wife had very little to reveal, after all. Even the most +mindless and stupid of those present knew that the jury only had to +look at her, standing there in the witness-box, and then to look at +the prisoner in the dock, to know what must have been that young man’s +motive for the crime of which he stood accused. + +Ivy was so helpless-looking, so fragile, so appealing, as well as so +exceedingly lovely. She seemed, indeed, to some of those watching her, +like some poor little delicate furry creature caught in a cruel steel +trap. + +Had she flirted dangerously, heartlessly, with Roger Gretorex? Even +that seemed doubtful to some of those listening to her low-toned +replies to counsel for the Crown. + +There were women now watching her intently who had come into Court +that day with the strongest prejudice against Ivy Lexton. Yet they +were conquered by what appeared to be her effortless, youthful charm, +as also by her evident suffering. And then her many pitiful little +efforts to say the best she could say for this man who had loved her +moved her own sex, in some cases, to tears. + +Many a woman there told herself that the witness now in the box had +once loved the prisoner in the dock, even though she had not known it +then, and though she would deny it, no doubt, even to herself, now. + + +At last came the moment which Ivy had visualised hundreds of times in +the last few days--the moment, that is, when Sir Joseph Molloy rose to +begin his cross-examination of the chief witness for the Crown. + +The silence that there had been before was as a loud noise to the +silence there was now. But, as always happens, three or four people +coughed nervously, and were angrily hushed by those about them. + +What was Sir Joseph going to do? One thing certainly. It would be +nothing less than his bare duty to try to prove to the jury that, +because she had taken everything, and given nothing, the beautiful +wife of Jervis Lexton had goaded this young man, Roger Gretorex, to +the frenzy which leads to crime. + +Not long ago Sir Joseph had caused two juries to disagree over what, +to the plain man, had been a clear case of murder. That simply because +he had been able to prove that the prisoner in the dock, who was a far +from prepossessing type of bucolic lover, had been rendered jealous to +madness by the foolish girl whom he had killed, and this though his +act had been clearly premeditated. That had been a very different case +from the Lexton case, and one not nearly so exciting to those in +Court. Still, there were many present to-day who remembered the +terrible cross-examination of the poor dead girl’s mother. It had been +the way Sir Joseph had dealt with the trembling woman, the admissions +he had forced out of her, which had saved his client’s life. + + + + + Chapter Sixteen + +But even in a court of law, where everything, in spite of what the +more ignorant section of the public may think, is arranged and +pre-arranged, the unexpected sometimes does happen. + +To the amazement of everybody present, Sir Joseph Molloy was almost as +kindly, as courteous, as careful of hurting her feelings, in his +cross-examination of Ivy Lexton, as his good friend Sir Jonathan +Wright had been during the examination-in-chief. Indeed Sir Joseph, as +a famous descriptive writer declared the next morning, was positively +dove-like in his gentleness. When cross-examining Mrs. Jervis Lexton, +his object seemed to be simply that of proving that Roger Gretorex, in +everyday life, had been a considerate, chivalrous, and extremely +unselfish friend. And that had already been freely admitted by the +leading counsel for the Crown. + +True, there came a moment when Sir Joseph, who found it painfully +difficult to play the rôle he had faithfully promised Roger Gretorex +to play, pressed Ivy just a little hard as to what form of words the +prisoner had used on the last occasion he had made love to her. + +The witness broke down, for the first time, over that probing +question, and it was sobbing that she asked: “Must I answer that?” + +The Judge explained to her, kindly enough, “Yes, prisoner’s counsel is +entitled to an answer to that question. But if you cannot remember the +exact form of words which were used on that occasion, you are entitled +to say so.” + +And then she replied, uttering the words very clearly this time: “I +can only remember that he said he loved me, and that were I free he +hoped I would become his wife.” + +Now those were the last words Sir Joseph had intended Ivy Lexton to +utter in answer to his question. And the knowledge that this was so +caused a murmur of--was it amusement?--to run through the Court. The +public much enjoy hearing a witness score off counsel. + +“And what did you answer to that?” he asked sharply. + +And then, as Ivy again began sobbing, shrugging his great shoulders he +signified that his cross-examination of the principal witness for the +Crown was over. + +Some of those present in Court were cruel enough to regret that Sir +Joseph had not been up to his usual form. What would not such people +have given to have heard what had passed at an interview the great +advocate had had, only yesterday, with the man now standing rigid in +the dock! + +Sir Joseph Molloy always insisted on seeing any man or woman whom he +was about to defend on a charge of murder and, at his final interview +with Gretorex, the prisoner had begun by begging him most earnestly to +refrain from cross-examining Ivy Lexton. + +But as to that, his counsel had refused to be guided by the accused +man’s wishes. + +“Do you expect me to put the hangman’s rope round your neck?” he had +asked harshly. + +Even so, he had promised that he would be very gentle with her. And +gentle he had been, all the more gentle, perhaps, because, at the very +end of that painful, curious interview, Gretorex had said to him, +gazing right into his eyes: + +“Treat Mrs. Lexton as you yourself would treat the woman you love, or +your own cherished sister, were she in the witness-box and you her +cross-examiner.” + +So it was that, to his bitter regret, Sir Joseph Molloy had behaved, +with regard to Ivy, in a way quite foreign to his nature. What he had +longed to do was to turn this lovely little creature inside out, and +to apply to her, in his own inimitable, almost affectionately feline, +manner, that awful Third Degree before which even the innocent +trembled. + +After a great deal of anxious thought, he had made up his mind to +plead, on his client’s behalf, a fit of temporary insanity. He hoped, +that is, to persuade the jury that, by some extraordinary combination +of circumstances, Jervis Lexton had been suffering in very truth from +some commonplace digestive disorder up to that last day when Gretorex, +driven mad by jealousy and love, had done the awful deed. Not, that +is, as the slow poisoner goes to work, but as a man takes out a knife +to stab his rival to the heart. + +That had been, roughly speaking, the line Sir Joseph had intended to +take before he had seen his client. But to do that he would have had +to play with Ivy Lexton as a powerful cat plays with a young mouse, +and that course of action had been absolutely forbidden by the man +whom he now believed innocent, even though reason whispered that he +must be guilty. + + +Then was it all over--the ordeal she had so dreaded at an end? Ivy +felt suddenly as if everything were whirling round her, and indeed she +nearly fainted. But she made an effort to pull herself together, and +to those who saw her leave the witness-box the expression on her white +face appeared deeply pathetic. + +“Bravo! You did splendidly! I’m proud of you,” whispered Paxton-Smith. + +And then he asked, “Would you like to stay on in Court, or shall I +take you home?” + +He hoped she would say “Home.” + +For a moment she looked undecided, then, “I think I would like to +stay,” she murmured. + +Now that her part was done, and with her legal adviser’s “Bravo!” +pounding in her ears, she felt she would prefer to be here rather than +alone in the flat. Indeed, when Paxton-Smith had found her a +comfortable seat among her friends, she began to feel a curious sense +of detachment, as if the drama of the trial being played out before +her scarcely concerned her personally at all. + +This strange feeling was really the measure of her profound relief at +having, so to speak, weathered the storm of what everyone had told her +would be such an awful experience. Why, it hadn’t been really terrible +at all! There had been moments of her examination--not of her +cross-examination--which in a sense Ivy had almost enjoyed. She had +been able to make herself out, to the great company of people about +her, what she believed herself to be--a sweet-natured, unselfish +little woman, whom everybody loved.… + +The appearance of Dr. Berwick in the witness-box gave her a momentary +sensation of unease. He was clear, unemotional, and not in the least +nervous. + +There was a little tiff between him and counsel when he told the story +of how he had come in one day, and found the prisoner prescribing for +his, Dr. Berwick’s, patient. It was put to him as a fact that Gretorex +had not made out any form of prescription and that when he was +“caught” apparently doing so, he had only been writing down the name +of an ordinary gargle, to be found made up in every chemist’s shop. +Also, at the time he had written down the name of that proprietary +preparation, Gretorex was under the impression that, Dr. Lancaster +having had an accident, the sick man had no one attending him, at any +rate at that moment. + +Even so, Dr. Berwick’s evidence was regarded by all those present as +very damaging to the prisoner, and Sir Joseph could do nothing with +him, save to denounce him angrily for not having insisted at once, as +soon as he became uneasy, on a second opinion. + +And then Roger Gretorex’s famous counsel flung by far the greatest +sensation of the trial on the Court. + +In a quiet, toneless voice he observed, as if he was stating the most +natural thing in the world, “I do not call any evidence.” + +There ran an excited murmur through the, till now, still audience. +Everyone had fully expected that the prisoner would give evidence on +his own behalf and, to the great majority of those there, the fact +that Gretorex had refused to go into the witness-box, not only signed +his own death-warrant, but proved conclusively that Sir Joseph +regarded his client as guilty. + +At first Ivy did not understand what it was that had happened. Then +two or three of the friends by whom she was surrounded excitedly +explained the exact meaning of Sir Joseph’s apparently casual remark. + +She, the woman in the case, said nothing in answer to these eager, +wordy explanations. Indeed, she seemed hardly to take in all that was +being told her. But inwardly she was feeling, oh! so thankful, so +intensely thankful, that Roger Gretorex had refused to give evidence. +She had been so horribly afraid that when in the witness-box her +one-time lover might, unwittingly, give her away. + +It was of Miles Rushworth that she was thinking, ever thinking, deep +in what she called her heart. He had been to her the only audience +that mattered, while she had been examined and cross-examined as to +her relations with the prisoner. + +“And now,” whispered someone just behind her, “comes the closing +speech for the Crown.” + +Ivy was not particularly interested in the closing speech for the +Crown. And, truth to tell, neither was anyone else in Court, +excepting, it must be hoped, the jury. + +Sir Jonathan sat down at the end of--was it twenty minutes, or only a +quarter of an hour? + +There was a short moment of breathing space, and then all prepared to +give their best attention while Sir Joseph Molloy started what was +afterwards described as “his great speech for the defence.” + +But though it may have been a great speech, it was a very short +speech, for the famous advocate knew that the only hope of saving +Gretorex from the gallows would be to make the kind of appeal to the +jury which is always made in France with regard to what is called +there a _crime passionnel_. + +The fact that Sir Joseph had not elected to call any evidence gave +him, as all those instructed in the law who listened to him were well +aware, the last word. And he made the most of his privilege. + +More than once during the course of what was simply a noble panegyric +of Roger Gretorex, the prisoner went from deathly pale to very red. He +would have given many of his few remaining days of life to close his +powerful advocate’s mouth. Also, what was the use of it all? Gretorex +knew as well as did the Judge that the fact that he was high-minded, +chivalrous, the best of sons to a widowed mother, and a man whose +money affairs were in perfect order, had nothing to do with the +question as to whether he had committed the murder for which he was +being tried. Neither, for the matter of that, would the fact that he +had adored the wife of Jervis Lexton, and had gone temporarily mad for +love of her, save him from the gallows. + +One man, on whom by accident the prisoner’s eyes were fixed for a +moment, actually shrugged his shoulders, when Sir Joseph brought in a +swift allusion to the fact that one of the prisoner’s great-uncles had +died in a lunatic asylum. + +Now the Judge desired--indeed they all desired--to finish the case +that day. + +“Do you wish to stay on for the summing-up and for the verdict?” +whispered Paxton-Smith to his client. + +Again he hoped that Ivy would--well? have the decency to rise and say, +“No, I will go home, now.” + +But instead of saying “No,” she whispered, “Yes, I think I should like +to do that.” + +And then, in slow, impressive tones, the Judge began his summing-up. + +Though Mr. Justice Mayhew took what seemed to be a considerable time, +his was one of the shortest addresses to a jury ever delivered in an +important trial for murder at the Old Bailey. The story he had to +recapitulate was, in a sense, so very ordinary. It had been unfolded, +in all its stark simplicity, by a tiny handful of witnesses, including +of course the most important of them all, the young wife of the +murdered man. + +Even so, speaking himself with impressive clarity, the Judge went over +the now well-known tale step by step. And finally his lordship +directed the jury that the fact that a man has been what is loosely +called “driven mad” by love does not mean that he is not capable of +keeping command over his faculties. Why, at the very time this was +supposed to have happened to the prisoner, he was in charge of a large +medical practice, and carrying out all the responsible, anxious duties +attached to such a practice in an admirable manner! + +“We have here the not uncommon case of a strong man’s infatuation for +a beautiful woman who gives him little, if any, encouragement,” he +observed. + +And there was a murmur of disapproval when one of Ivy’s women friends +gave a sudden little cackle of laughter, to the shocked surprise of +everyone in Court. + +The Judge brushed aside with relentless logic any effect that might +have been produced on the jury by Sir Joseph Molloy’s moving account +of Gretorex as a wise, unselfish physician, a devoted son, and within +the possible limit a generous landlord. No doubt all that was true. +But the whole history of crime was there to prove that a person could +be all these excellent things, while being also a cruel, callous, +secret murderer. + +In this case, assuming Gretorex was guilty, the man who had been +slowly done to death had been the secret poisoner’s own familiar +friend, his boon-companion in many a party of careless pleasure. +Further, the man before them, the prisoner in the dock, had not even +dared to go into the witness-box. The Judge pointed out in solemn, +measured tones that he had the right to comment, and comment most +seriously, on that omission. + +As the afternoon wore itself away, every one became very weary. Even +Ivy began to wish that she had gone away when Paxton-Smith had last +suggested that she should do so. + +She stole a glance at Roger Gretorex. He was looking straight at the +Judge, with a thoughtful, measuring glance. He looked far more +himself, his reserved, intelligent self, than he had done when Sir +Joseph was engaged in making that dramatic, useless appeal to the +jury. + +Ivy Lexton gazed at the prisoner in the dock with a strange feeling at +her heart. In a sense she was still proud of this man who had been her +devout, adoring lover. He looked so brave, so cool, so completely +self-possessed. The majority of those who now and again glanced his +way to see how he was “taking it” thought him revoltingly callous. + +And, at the same moment that Ivy was doing so, Roger’s mother stole a +look at him. Her heart was full of such agony that she felt as if +merciful death might suddenly intervene and end it all for her. And +her agony was shared, one is tempted to say, almost to the full, by +the girl who sat beside her. + +At last the summing up was over. The prisoner was taken below, and +then began the waiting for the verdict. + +To many of those in Court the jury seemed to be away a long, long +time. Yet as a matter of fact, it was only a bare half-hour before all +those who had gone out to stretch their legs, and talk over for the +hundredth time the only real point of mystery in the story, came +swarming back into the Court. + +Slowly, almost in a leisurely way, the nine jurymen and the three +jurywomen filed in. Some of those present noticed that not a single +juror looked at the prisoner, who had been brought back to the dock +and now stood at ease between two warders. + +Although the verdict was a foregone conclusion, every human being +there looked strained, anxious; and Ivy Lexton again felt sick and +faint. For the first time since she stepped into the witness-box no +one was looking at her, for everyone was looking at the jury. + +Everything being now ready, the Judge returned to the bench, all those +who were seated in Court rising to their feet. + +The Judge, having bowed to the Court, seated himself, and so, +apparently, did everyone else there, except the three men, the +prisoner and his custodians, standing in the dock. + +Then the Clerk of the Court asked the fateful question: + +“Members of the jury, have you agreed upon your verdict?” + +There was a pause, but at last the foreman of the jury, a nervous, +intelligent-looking man, who was evidently intensely relieved that his +responsible task was now over, answered in a clear tone, “We have.” + +“Do you find the prisoner, Roger Kingston Gretorex, guilty or not +guilty of the wilful murder of Jervis Lexton?” + +There was a scarcely perceptible wait, and then came the one +word--“Guilty.” + +And it was as if there swept a great sigh through the now lighted +Court, followed by a sudden buzz of talk. + +But this was instantly quelled when the ushers cried sternly, +“Silence!” + +All eyes were now fixed on the prisoner. He was standing far more +stiffly to attention than he had done a moment ago, as the clear tones +of the Clerk of the Court rang out: + +“Roger Kingston Gretorex, you stand convicted of wilful murder. Have +you anything to say for yourself why the Court should not give you +judgment according to law?” + +“Only that I am innocent.” + +The five words were uttered in a cool, firm tone. + +It was the second time during the whole course of the trial that +anyone there had heard Roger Gretorex’s voice. + +Ivy felt better now, and she watched everything that went on with +eager, excited interest. + +Sitting near the Judge was a young man to whom no one had before paid +any special attention. But now every eye was fixed on him, for it was +he who lifted a square of black cloth, and placed it, with careful +deliberation, on the Judge’s wig. + +Then solemn, slow, emphatic tones of admonition fell on the heavy air. +They were not cruel words, for the Judge felt deeply sorry for the +young man before him. He had heard, only last evening at a +dinner-party, something of the quiet, kindly, useful life that Mrs. +Gretorex and her son had both led since the death of the husband and +father who had caused their financial ruin. + +And then came the awful words-- + +“Roger Kingston Gretorex, the jury, after a careful and patient +hearing, have found you guilty of the wilful murder of Jervis Lexton. +The sentence of the Court upon you is that you be taken from here to a +lawful prison, and from there to a place of execution; and that you be +there hanged by the neck until you be dead; and that your body be +buried within the precincts of the prison in which you shall have been +last confined after your conviction; and may the Lord have mercy on +your soul.” + +As Ivy Lexton, supported by a number of her friends and acquaintances, +left the Old Bailey by a back way, she chanced in the passage to meet +Mrs. Gretorex face to face. The eyes of the two women crossed--and a +stab of horrible pain flashed across the worn, yet even now calm, face +of Roger Gretorex’s mother. + + + + + Chapter Seventeen + +“I took Mrs. Gretorex a nice cup of tea at seven o’clock, for I +heard her moving about even before then. But the poor lady only just +sipped it. She said her throat seemed swollen, so she couldn’t +swallow. But she’s up now, and I do wish, miss, you’d go in and try +and persuade her to have just a little bit of breakfast. Me and my +husband--well--we both fairly broke down and cried last night, when we +thought of how we’d feel if it was our boy that was going to be hanged +by the neck till he was dead.” + +“I hope she doesn’t let her mind dwell on that,” Enid’s pale face went +a shade paler, as she looked into the kind, pitying eyes of Mrs. +Gretorex’s landlady. + +“How can she help hearing those awful words a-ringing in her ears? Why +they rings in mine, ever since yesterday! I’m sorry I did stay till +the end. A friend warned me, so she did. She says to me, ‘Maria, +you’ll enjoy every bit of it up to the jury coming back. But if I was +you I’d leave the Court before the Judge puts on his black cap.’ I +wish I’d done that now!” + +As Enid advanced into the sitting-room, and saw Mrs. Gretorex’s figure +leaning back in the deep grandfather’s chair, she thought for one +moment--and to her it was a blessed moment--that her dear old friend +was dead, that she had died, literally, of a broken heart, so rigid +was the lonely looking figure, so calm and white the face, so pale the +lips. + +But Roger Gretorex’s mother was not dead, and hearing Enid’s +footsteps, she opened her eyes. + +“I want you to have something to eat, Mrs. Gretorex. Mr. Oram told me +yesterday that he thought you might be allowed to see Roger to-day. +You must keep up your strength.” + +“I will,” said the other quietly. “But it’s an odd thing, Enid, when +that kind soul brought in my cup of tea this morning I found I +couldn’t swallow. Perhaps I can now. At any rate I’ll try.” + +Enid came up a little closer to the big chair. + +“I wonder if you would think it strange if I went and had a talk with +Mr. Finch?” she said a little nervously. + +“With Mr. Finch?” Mrs. Gretorex looked surprised. + +“From something he said the other day, I gathered that he has some +theory which is not shared by Mr. Oram. I should like to know what it +is. Somehow I feel that there must be something we could do----” + +There was such a fervour of revolt, of anguish, in the steady voice, +that the older woman for one moment forgot her own agony. + +She felt deeply moved; even she had not realised how much Enid cared. +The girl had kept an entire curb over her feeling during the terrible +days that the two had sat next to one another in Court. + +She got up from her chair, and came close up to Enid Dent. + +“I feel as if there was nothing left, for me at any rate, to do but to +endure.” + +“I feel,” cried the girl, “as if there was a great deal left to do! +Mr. Oram is an old man, Mrs. Gretorex, and though he’s been so awfully +good to us, I’ve had the feeling----” then she stopped. + +“I know,” replied Mrs. Gretorex in a low voice. “I realise, too, that +he believes that Roger did that awful thing.” + +“But Mr. Finch,” said Enid eagerly, “knows that Roger is innocent! +Would you mind my going and seeing him? He’s always at the office long +before Mr. Oram arrives there in the morning.” + +“You can do exactly what you think best. I trust you entirely; so, I +know, does Roger.” + + +Twenty minutes later Enid Dent was sitting in the rather drab-looking +waiting-room, lined with steel-bound boxes, where she had spent, +during the last few weeks, many dreary, anxious minutes. But this time +she had not long to wait, for Mr. Oram’s head clerk soon appeared, a +look of surprise on his face. + +“I’m afraid you’ll think I’ve come very early,” she said nervously. +“But the truth is, Mr. Finch, I wanted to have a short talk with you. +And I was anxious to see you before Mr. Oram arrived here this +morning.” + +“You come up now, at once, to Mr. Oram’s room, Miss Dent. He won’t be +here to-day, at all.” + +A feeling of relief swept over Enid Dent. She had a regard for Mr. +Oram, but she was also rather afraid of him. And she resented keenly a +fact which had become at once apparent to her--that he was convinced, +even if most unwillingly, of his client’s guilt. + +Enid had a direct, honest nature, as have so many people who yet do +not wear their hearts upon their sleeves. So it was that when the two +were together in Mr. Oram’s room, she began without any preamble: + +“From something you said the other day, Mr. Finch, I understood that +you believe there’s some as yet quite unsuspected mystery behind this +story of Jervis Lexton’s death. If I am right, will you tell me what +it is you do think? Also whether anything can be done to bring the +truth to light before--” And then once more she repeated that word +“before,” which may mean so very much or so very little in life. + +Alfred Finch felt and looked uncomfortable. To make a remark in a +casual way is very different from being pinned down, and asked what it +is exactly that you meant by saying what you did. But the girl was +looking at him with such anxious, appealing eyes, and, after all, if +he was a fool, he was being a fool in good company, that of the great +Sir Joseph Molloy himself. + +Mr. Oram’s head clerk and the famous counsel had become friends over +the Lexton case, and what Mr. Finch was about to expound to Enid Dent +as his own theory was really Sir Joseph Molloy’s theory. Not, as he +intended carefully to explain, as to what had certainly happened, but +as to what might conceivably have happened, to provide an explanation +of what seemed inexplicable--how, that is, Jervis Lexton had come by +his death. + +“You may be aware,” he began a little nervously, “that there is a +section of the public, including whom I may call our most noted +amateur criminologists, who are convinced that we needn’t go further +than Mrs. Lexton herself. Their view is that, apart from Mr. Roger, no +one else, except the lady who is now his widow, can have had the +slightest motive for getting rid of poor Lexton. Now I don’t share +that view at all!” + +“Neither do I,” said Enid quickly. “We all know that Mrs. Lexton had +every reason for wanting her husband to remain alive.” + +“But what I do believe,” and a queer expression came over Alfred +Finch’s shrewd face, “is that Mrs. Lexton knows a good deal more than +she admitted yesterday in the witness-box. I can’t help suspecting +that there is some man, a stranger to the case, but well known to her, +who had some vital interest in compassing Jervis Lexton’s death. Far +stranger things happen in real life than any novelist would dare to +put in a story, Miss Dent. Men, aye, and women too, are more +unscrupulous than any ordinary person would imagine. Even Mr. Oram +would agree to that. If we can find among Mrs. Lexton’s admirers--and +she has a goodish few--some wealthy man who is in love with her, _and +who has easy access to any form of arsenic_, we might have something +like new evidence to offer when the case comes up on appeal.” + +“But if that is true,” said Enid quickly, “then the nurse must have +known that Mr. Lexton had some other visitor within a few hours of his +death--and the parlourmaid who gave evidence as to admitting Dr. +Gretorex the afternoon before Mr. Lexton died must have known it too.” + +Alfred Finch looked straight into the girl’s now flushed, anxious +face. + +“What is it,” he asked impressively, “that rules the whole world +to-day?” + +And, as he saw she looked bewildered, he snapped out the one word, +“Money! What Mrs. Lexton and her lot call ‘the ready.’” + +What did he mean? In what way could money have played a part in this +sinister business? + +His next words enlightened her. + +“Money can do anything nowadays, for everybody wants money, and spends +money as they never did before. Believe me, Miss Dent, no one, in +these days, is incorruptible.” + +“What a terrible thing to say--even to think!” exclaimed Enid. + +“It may be terrible, but it’s the truth, Miss Dent! And it’s +particularly true when one considers the people who were mixed up in +this affair. All women, and poor themselves, mark you. I don’t mean to +imply for a moment that they meant to connive at murder. My view is +that their mouths, maybe, were shut with gold before they had any idea +what it was that they were going to be asked to stay ‘mum’ about. But +then? Well, then, they wisely, in their own interest, continued to +keep their mouths shut!” + +“I see,” said Enid slowly. + +“I was very much struck by the demeanour of that Nurse Bradfield in +the witness-box,” he went on eagerly. “Sir Joseph reduced her to a +drivelling state of terror. Now, why was that? You remember, maybe, +how he pressed her as to who else came to the flat besides Mr. Roger; +and how at last she had to admit that several ladies and gentlemen +came there, and that often she really didn’t know who they were! Now, +isn’t that a singular thing? We have the master of the house lying +ill--not ill enough to have a night nurse, but still, ill enough to +have a nurse all day. And yet a lot of people come and go--to lunch, +to play bridge, and to take Mrs. Lexton out in the evening! Now that, +to me, sounds very odd, not to say suspicious.” + +“I quite agree that it does seem strange and heartless,” said Enid in +a troubled tone. “But I liked Nurse Bradfield. I thought her a +truthful woman, though it was plain she was awfully frightened of Sir +Joseph.” + +“I never can understand why an honest witness should feel frightened +when in the witness-box,” exclaimed Mr. Finch in a tone of contempt. + +“Oh, I can understand it so well!” cried the girl. “I know I should be +terrified, especially if Sir Joseph were cross-examining me as he +cross-examined that poor woman.” + +“Well, be that as it may, Miss Dent, my point is that it came out very +clearly that a certain number of men, all friends and admirers of that +pretty little lady, came in and out of the flat during the poor chap’s +illness.” + +“And you actually think that Mrs. Lexton----” and while she was +seeking for the right word he broke in with: + +“If my theory is correct, I am inclined to think that Mrs. Lexton must +have a shrewd suspicion as to who the man was who did that terrible +thing--and I shan’t be at all surprised if she makes what is commonly +called a good marriage before the year is out!” + +“But what an awful thing--to allow an innocent man----” + +Again he cut across her words: “She’s a thoroughly selfish woman, and +only thinks of herself. But capable of murder?” he shook his head. “Oh +no, Miss Dent! The folk who are inclined to think that of her know but +little about human nature. I don’t claim to know more of the set Mrs. +Lexton lives in than one can gather from the newspapers, and perhaps I +ought to say from proceedings in the Bankruptcy Court. But, though +they’ll do almost anything for money, those sort of people stop short +at murder, believe me.” + +“Still, you do think it possible that Mrs. Lexton may be shielding a +murderer?” + +Mr. Finch hesitated. “That’s it exactly. I think she may be shielding +a murderer. How did she strike you in the witness-box?” + +“I thought her very clever,” said Enid Dent slowly. “Her one object +was to produce a good impression, and she succeeded.” + +Instinctively Mr. Finch lowered his voice. + +“I watched her very carefully, and listened even more carefully, while +she was in the witness-box, and I made up my mind that she believes +Dr. Gretorex to be an innocent man. Did I say believe? I think she +knows he is innocent.” + +“I think another thing,” said Enid, and she, too, allowed her voice to +drop. + +“What’s that, Miss Dent?” Mr. Finch bent forward. + +“I feel quite sure”--and suddenly her pale face became red--“that +Roger suspects who did it. I think that’s why he wouldn’t give +evidence.” + +“God bless my soul,” exclaimed Mr. Finch, “I never thought of that! +You may be right, after all. But if it’s true, well, then he’s----” + +“Very quixotic?” + +“No, Miss Dent. Saving your presence, I was going to say he’s a damn +fool.” + + + + + Chapter Eighteen + +That same morning, the morning after the conclusion of Gretorex’s +trial, Ivy awoke late. For a moment she remembered nothing, for she +had gone through a very terrible strain the previous day, a greater +strain than she herself had been aware of, at the time. + +And then, all at once she remembered--remembered everything, and a +sense of something akin to ecstasy flooded her heart. She flung her +white arms above her head and stretched herself out luxuriously. +Then--for it was very cold--she snuggled down into bed again. + +How marvellous to know that her ordeal was over. All over--all over! +That from now on she need never see any of the people who had been +connected with this awful episode in her life. Perhaps, though, she +would make an exception as to Paxton-Smith, for he had been so awfully +kind to her, and he admired her so much! His description of how brave +and plucky she had been in the witness-box would surely delight Miles +Rushworth. Yes, Paxton-Smith should remain her friend. + +Meanwhile she would follow his advice. She would go away, that is, to +the country for a few days, to the delightful cottage near Brighton +belonging to Lady Flora Desmond. She could not go to-day, unluckily, +for Lady Flora had lent the cottage to some tiresome people. But they +would be leaving soon, and then she would go down there and have a +thorough rest. + +Ivy felt she wanted what some of her friends called “a rest cure,” +after all she had gone through. + +All at once there came a knock on the bedroom door--a knock, and a +quick whispered conversation outside. Something, too, very like a +giggle. + +She called out sharply “Come in,” and the day maid came in with a +broad grin on her young face. + +“Cook thought maybe that you’d like to see the paper she takes in, +ma’am. There’s such a beautiful picture of you in it!” + +And on the pink silk eiderdown the maid put down two picture papers, +the one that Ivy always glanced at every day, and another paper. + +Why, yes--there was the picture, and a very good one, too. Ivy had +been snapped by a Press photographer just as she had stood on the +doorstep of Duke of Kent Mansion, a moment before she got into +Paxton-Smith’s car. She gazed with pleasure at all the details of her +becoming costume. What a good thing that she had bought that charming +little model hat just before poor Jervis’s death. She had soon +discovered that what is called “mourning headgear” is apt to be +singularly unbecoming. + +“It does look nice, ma’am, don’t it? Cook says as how you looked +bewitching while you was giving evidence,” ventured the girl. + +“I wasn’t thinking of how I was looking,” said Ivy. + +And indeed this was the truth. As she had stood up there, the target +of all eyes, she had only thought of her coming cross-examination by +Sir Joseph Molloy. + +And then the girl made a mistake, and she knew that she had done so as +soon as she had said the words. + +“It does seem sad about that poor Dr. Gretorex, don’t it?” she +exclaimed. + +For at once Ivy burst into tears--angry, frightened tears. It was too +bad, too bad, when she herself had succeeded this morning in entirely +banishing Roger from her mind, that he should be thus stupidly, +cruelly, thrust into it again. + +“Oh, ma’am, I’m so sorry! Please forgive me!” And the tactless young +woman almost ran out of the room. + +Nurse Bradfield came in to see what was the matter. She looked wan and +worn. Unlike Ivy, she had not slept the previous night; unlike Ivy, +the face of Roger Gretorex, especially his expression as he had +uttered, in answer to the awful question, the quiet words, “Only that +I am innocent,” rang in her ears. + +She had felt then, and she still felt now, a most painful sensation of +doubt. + +Was it possible, was it conceivable, that Gretorex was innocent after +all, and that her patient had secretly done himself to death? + +Every nurse comes across strange and most unexpected happenings in the +course of her work. And Nurse Bradfield, though in a sense she had had +an uneventful career, had yet been more than once very much startled +and surprised by the astonishing things people will sometimes do. + +She sat down, now, on the bed, and put her arms round the slender +figure, still shaken by angry, frightened sobs. + +“I know how you’re feeling, Mrs. Lexton,” she whispered. “I, too, +can’t get Dr. Gretorex out of my mind. But there’s still a chance, you +know, that something may be found out, even now. I mean between now +and his appeal. Mrs. Berwick told me last night that she knows some +great friends of Sir Joseph Molloy, and that he honestly does believe +Dr. Gretorex to be innocent. She says that Sir Joseph is going to +leave no stone unturned to try to prove his innocence. He’s in a +terrible state about it all, and he was very distressed at Dr. +Gretorex refusing to give evidence on his own behalf.” + +“But you think he did it, don’t you, nurse?” + +Ivy lifted her tear-stained eyes and gazed at the older woman. + +“I did think so,” muttered Nurse Bradfield. “And even now I can’t see +any other explanation. You and I know quite well that Mr. Lexton was +not the sort of man to do away with himself.” + +“Of course he wasn’t!” exclaimed Ivy, with a touch of indignation. + +The nurse sighed. “Such extraordinary things do happen in life,” she +observed. + +“What is it Sir Joseph Molloy thinks he can find out? Did Mrs. Berwick +tell you that?” asked Ivy. + +She put the question in a careless tone, but she really wanted to +know; indeed she was very, very anxious to discover what it was that +Sir Joseph Molloy meant to do. + +“What he says he means to find out,” said the nurse, “is whether there +wasn’t some other person in the world who had a motive for getting rid +of Mr. Lexton, besides Dr. Gretorex. He’s got a sort of an idea that +there must have been someone else--someone who’s not been thought of +yet--someone whose name didn’t appear in the case.” + +And then was heard a hesitating knock on the door, and the maid came +in again, looking very much subdued. + +On the silver salver lay what had become Ivy’s daily cable from South +Africa. + +She saw a curious look flash over Nurse Bradfield’s face. As a matter +of fact, those daily cables were a source of much interest and +speculation to the household, now composed, apart from Ivy, of three +women. It was the more mysterious as Mrs. Lexton never left those +thick telegrams lying about. The daily cable always disappeared within +a comparatively short time of her receipt of the buff-coloured +envelope. + +Ivy did not open the envelope. She put it on a little table by the +side of her bed, and went on talking and listening. + +“Everyone in Court admired the way you gave your evidence, Mrs. +Lexton. Mr. Paxton-Smith told me you were the best witness he had ever +had. Indeed, he said that you were just perfection! Not too shy, and +not too bold. So clear, too! Every word you said could be heard, even +where I was sitting.” + +And then the speaker added, with considerable heat, “Some of the +people there seemed to me like hyenas! Blood--blood--blood--that’s +what they wanted, the horrid ghouls! Why, there was a man just behind +me who said he hoped that Sir Joseph would make mincemeat of you----” + +“I know that some of them wanted that,” murmured Ivy. + +“The story goes,” went on Nurse Bradfield, “that Dr. Gretorex begged +Sir Joseph to leave you alone.” + +“I wonder if he did?” + +That had not occurred to Ivy. But now, of course, she knew this to be +almost certainly the reason Sir Joseph had been so--so unlike what +everyone had expected him to be. + +And then there did come over her a little glimmer of gratitude. Yes, +Roger certainly loved her. No one would ever care for her as he cared. +She remembered, now, his having once said that he would go through any +torture in order to save her a moment’s pain. Well? Poor Roger hadn’t +really gone through torture exactly--that sort of thing has been given +up long ago, luckily. Still, it was very touching that, even in his +own time of danger, he had thought of her and of her reputation. + +After Nurse Bradfield had left the room, and after Ivy’s light +breakfast had been brought in and arranged on the bed-table, she broke +open Rushworth’s cable. + + + My sister died yesterday. Sailing for home the day after to-morrow. + Will keep you advised by wireless of exact date of my return. I have + been thinking of you night and day. + + +Rushworth coming back now, almost at once? Small wonder that a feeling +of ecstasy flooded Ivy Lexton’s whole being. She had gone through a +terrible ordeal, but that which was already in sight would make up for +everything. + +She jumped out of bed and locked her door. Then she went over to the +fireplace, and watched the flimsy sheets curl up and become thin and +black in the flames. After the first, she had always burnt each of +Rushworth’s cables as soon as she had read it through. Somehow it +seemed to her safer to do so. + +Unlocking the door, she rang for the maid to put on her bath, for she +wanted to go out and telegraph to Miles Rushworth. + + +It was half-past ten when Ivy came back to the flat. + +“There’s a young lady to see you in the drawing-room, ma’am,” said the +maid. + +Ivy walked into the room smiling, for she expected to see waiting for +her one of the many women belonging to her old, idle, easy life. Why +shouldn’t they go out together shopping, and then come back to lunch? + +But the smile froze on her face, for it was a stranger who rose and +confronted her. Certainly a stranger, and yet somehow she had a +disturbing feeling that she had seen her visitor before, and in +disagreeable circumstances. + +Then all at once, with a feeling of sharp annoyance, she realised that +this was the girl who had been sitting with Mrs. Gretorex during the +concluding hours of Roger’s trial yesterday. And when she, Ivy, and +Roger’s mother had met face to face in a corridor of the Old Bailey, +the stranger had been there too. + +“I hope you’ll forgive my coming in this way without having first +asked if you would see me,” said Enid Dent. “But the matter is very +urgent, Mrs. Lexton, and the time is short, very short, between now +and Roger Gretorex’s appeal, otherwise I feel sure Mrs. Gretorex would +have come herself. Unfortunately, she is ill to-day.” + +As Ivy still said nothing, only looked at her with an expression of +fear, and yes, of dislike, on her lovely face, Enid exclaimed +desperately, “I am sure you would do anything to help Roger Gretorex, +Mrs. Lexton?” + +And then Ivy did what all through her life she had often done, when in +doubt. She burst into tears. + +“Of course, I’d do anything,” she sobbed, “anything I could do! But +what can I do? I’ve gone through such an awful time. No one knows what +I’ve gone through, or how miserable I’ve been. No one thinks of me!” +she ended hysterically. “I feel as if I hadn’t a friend in the +world----” + +Enid went up close to her, and touched her on the arm. + +“I’m so sorry,” she said in a troubled tone. “I know how terrible it +must have been for you yesterday.” + +She felt ashamed of what she had been led to believe by Mr. Finch an +hour ago. It seemed incredible to her that the poor little creature +before her, now trembling with emotion, could have acted the cruel +part Alfred Finch and Sir Joseph believed she was acting, shielding +the real murderer of her husband, and condemning an innocent man to a +frightful death. + +Ivy saw that she had made a good impression, and she became gradually +calm. + +Her one object was to get rid of this tiresome girl quietly. It had +been stupid, very stupid, of the maid to allow a stranger to come in +and wait, without knowing anything of her business. After all, this +girl didn’t look in the least like one of her, Ivy’s, smart friends. +Enid looked, to her critic’s practised eyes, a country bumpkin dressed +in a plain and by no means expensive, if well-cut, coat and skirt. + +“I suppose,” she said politely, “that you’re poor Mrs. Gretorex’s +companion?” + +“Yes,” answered Enid, “I am her companion. I’ve known her all my life; +and I’m very, very sorry for her.” And then her voice, too, broke. + +“What is it that Mrs. Gretorex thinks I can do?” asked Ivy in a +timorous voice. + +As the girl, who was struggling with her tears, answered nothing to +this: “Of course I’d do anything if I thought it could be of any +good,” she concluded. + +And then, suddenly, she had an inspiration. + +“People seem to forget all about poor Jervis,” she said in a hurt +tone. “After all, he was my husband, and I was very fond of him, +Miss----?” + +“Dent,” said the other quietly. “My name is Enid Dent.” + +And then she moved a little farther away from the still fur-clad +little figure, for those words, uttered in so pathetic a tone, had +suddenly brought Roger before Enid Dent. Roger, God help him, had +loved, perhaps still loved, this woman. + +“Well, Miss Dent, no one ever thinks now about poor Jervis, do they?” + +That had been a remark made to Ivy by Paxton-Smith a few days ago, and +she had been struck by the truth of it. + +Enid felt a tremor of discomfort flash across her burdened heart. It +was quite true that though his mysterious death had formed the subject +of a great and searching inquiry, none of them, now, gave any thought +to Jervis Lexton, the unfortunate young man who had certainly been +poisoned by someone masquerading as a friend. + +“I do know how you must feel about that,” she said in a low voice. +“But it’s only natural for Mrs. Gretorex, and the friends of Roger +Gretorex, to be thinking of him rather than of your husband, Mrs. +Lexton. You see, we who have known Roger all his life, are absolutely +convinced that he is innocent.” + +And then Ivy, whose nerves were on edge, suddenly made, in her own +immediate interest, a mistake. + +“Everyone _I_ see,” she said quickly, defensively, “feels quite sure +that Roger Gretorex did do it. You must know that, Miss Dent, though +of course I wouldn’t say so to his mother.” + +“Does that mean that you”--Enid Dent took a step forward, and the +other instinctively stepped back as she met the accusing look in the +girl’s eyes--“yourself are convinced of his guilt, Mrs. Lexton?” + +“I don’t think you have a right to ask me such a question!” She +uttered the rebuke lightly, pettishly. + +Why, oh! why, didn’t this tiresome, disagreeable girl go away? She had +no business here. Besides, she was only a paid companion. Ivy had a +great contempt for any woman earning her own living in a quiet, +humdrum way. + +A tide of anger was rising up in her heart, making her what she seldom +was, really angry. + +“It’s a hideous misfortune for me that I ever met Roger Gretorex!” she +exclaimed. “And yet you heard what I said in the witness-box? I did +try, indeed I did, to help Dr. Gretorex. What is more----” + +Enid had moved away again. She was standing still now, a look of +despair on her face. + +“--Mr. Paxton-Smith told me I oughtn’t to say a word, and I promised +him that I wouldn’t say a word to anyone ever, unless he was there +too!” + +Anger is very catching, as most of us know, and wrath had also risen +up in Enid Dent’s heart. How agonising it was to know that it was this +cruel, foolish, selfish, silly woman who had stolen the man she, Enid, +loved, and who, she believed in her heart, had loved her, before some +malign fate had thrown him in Mrs. Lexton’s way. + +So it was that, when she saw Ivy begin sidling towards the door, with +a quick movement she flung herself across the room and stood with her +back against it, barring the way. + +“Mrs. Lexton?” + +She uttered the other’s name calmly, though she was now shaking all +over. + +“Yes, Miss Dent? I’m sure no good can come of our going on +talking----” + +“Not only do I believe, but certain people, whose opinion you no doubt +would value far more than mine, believe too, that you know Roger +Gretorex to be innocent!” cried Enid. “They are convinced that you are +well aware who it was who craftily, cruelly, secretly poisoned your +husband. I warn you here and now, that if that is true, the truth is +going to be discovered!” + +She stopped, ashamed of, and frightened at, her own emotion. She felt +now, as if it were someone else who had uttered that passionate +warning. + +Ivy Lexton suddenly gave a stifled cry. Tottering forward she sank +down on a chair, and, moaning, covered her face with her hands. + +All at once, she could not have said why, perhaps it was a glimpse she +caught of Ivy Lexton’s convulsed face, there flashed into the girl’s +mind a certain dread suspicion; and much that had seemed inexplicable +suddenly became clear. + +Ivy slipped off the chair on to the floor, and lay there quite still. + +Enid Dent opened the door. + +“I am afraid,” she said quietly to the maid who had been in the hall +obviously listening to what was going on inside the drawing-room, +“that Mrs. Lexton has fainted.” + +As the scared-looking young woman went to call Nurse Bradfield, who +was then packing, for she was about to go on to a new case, Enid left +the flat and, without waiting for the lift, she ran down the stairs. + +Hailing a taxicab she threw the driver her address in Ebury Street. +She felt extraordinarily excited, carried out of herself. Consciously +she longed for the man who was driving her to go faster--faster! At +last he drew up; she paid him off, put the latchkey in the lock, and +then, shaking with excitement, she walked straight into the room where +Mrs. Gretorex was still lying back in the big arm-chair. + +“I think I know now,” she said in a stifled voice, “who poisoned +Jervis Lexton, and you and I, Mrs. Gretorex, must try and think of a +way in which we can get proof, proof--proof!” + +Mrs. Gretorex looked up at the girl. + +“Who is it you now suspect?” she asked slowly, “of having poisoned +Jervis Lexton?” + +Enid hesitated for a moment, then she said in a low voice, “His wife.” + +“I have felt almost sure, from the first, that Ivy Lexton poisoned her +husband,” said Mrs. Gretorex quietly. + +Then she rose and, coming quite close up to the girl, she added: “What +is more, I am convinced that Roger knows the truth now. That is the +real reason why he begged Sir Joseph Molloy to be very careful as to +what questions he put to Mrs. Lexton in his cross-examination.” + +Mrs. Gretorex took Enid’s hand. + +“You and I believe this terrible thing of Ivy Lexton. But it can do +Roger no good to say what we believe. It would, even, probably, do him +harm.” + +“Does Mr. Oram know that you think her guilty?” + +“Yes,” said Roger’s mother, and she sighed. “I told him just before +the trial opened. He begged me most earnestly to put any idea of the +kind out of my mind, as he felt convinced I was wrong. He pointed out +to me that there was not what he called an iota of evidence connecting +Mrs. Lexton with the crime. In fact, I saw that I dropped very very +much in his estimation as a sensible woman when I told him of my more +than suspicion, of my absolute conviction, that Mrs. Lexton had had +some all-powerful motive for wishing her husband dead.” + +“Surely we can discover what that was?” + +Mrs. Gretorex shook her head. “She certainly did not wish to marry +Roger--of that I feel quite sure. I hoped against hope that something +might come out while Sir Joseph Molloy cross-examined her. But, of +course, nothing did come out, and it is my conviction, Enid, that +nothing ever will.” + + +That same day the fact that Roger Gretorex had made up his mind not to +appeal appeared in the late editions of the evening papers. “It will +only prolong the agony for my mother,” he had said to Mr. Oram. “And +as for me, I am sufficiently a coward to long for it to be all over.” + +And so they all--those who loved Roger, and she who feared him, +together with the myriads of men and women who regarded him as a +callous murderer, and who hoped that he would finally confess his +crime--waited for the end. + + + + + Chapter Nineteen + +And now there were but two days--to be accurate, but two nights--to +the date fixed for Roger Gretorex’s execution. All those to whom the +matter was of grave moment had given up hope, and, to the great relief +of each member of what may be described as the outside circle of those +concerned in the still mysterious story, there was something stoic in +the resignation and self-control of both the mother and the son. + +But Enid Dent showed many signs of the strain and agony she was +enduring, and Sir Joseph Molloy felt quite unlike his powerful, jovial +self. Even against his better judgment he still felt convinced that an +awful miscarriage of justice was going to be enacted. His conviction +actually affected the nerves of Sir Edward Law, the Home Secretary, +who happened, unfortunately for himself, to be one of Sir Joseph’s +oldest friends. + +Sir Edward hoped most fervently that Gretorex would make a last-moment +confession. Not that the Home Secretary really doubted the fact of the +young man’s guilt. But he felt the kind of anxiety which must possess +any sensitive, conscientious human being who has the onerous gift of +life in his hand, if he knows that the mind of a friend he trusts as +deeply as he did trust Sir Joseph’s powerful mind, is convinced of a +condemned man’s innocence. + +The execution had been fixed for a Thursday. Deliberately Sir Joseph +arranged to cross to Calais on the Wednesday in order to meet his +wife, who was coming back the next day from the south of France. + +Though Lady Molloy was an invalid, a tiny, fragile little body, and no +longer young, her husband adored her, and when he was parted from “the +woman who owned him,” as he sometimes oddly expressed it, he seemed at +times only half himself. His Eileen, so he told himself now, would +know how to heal the ache at his heart. + +For one thing, Lady Molloy was deeply religious in a happy childlike +way. Heaven seemed to her a beautiful place, just hard by, and so she +would naturally view Roger Gretorex’s terrible mode of exit from life +as the certain gateway to a happier existence than he could have hoped +for on this earth. + + +“The day after to-morrow--the day after to-morrow.” + +Those four words seemed to beat themselves on Enid Dent’s brain. +Sometimes would come a variant--“What can be done, surely something +can be done, before the day after to-morrow?” + +Early on the Tuesday morning she wandered out of doors and walked for +miles in the cold, still empty streets. At last she went into +Westminster Abbey for a while, and then into the vast Catholic +Cathedral. But she found she could not pray. She felt as if abandoned +by God, as well as by man. + +Reluctantly, she at last turned her feet towards Ebury Street. She +shrank from seeing Mrs. Gretorex. To Enid there was something horribly +unnatural in the calmness and appearance of strength shown by Roger’s +mother. It was, as the girl knew, by Roger’s plainly expressed desire +that they were going home to-morrow down to Sussex. By his wish, also, +they would be in the parish church, which was actually an enclave in +the grounds attached to what was still his house, when nine o’clock +struck out his hour of doom on Thursday. + +As Enid came in to their sitting-room Mrs. Gretorex held out an open +letter. + +“This has just reached me--sent on from Mr. Oram’s office this +morning. It’s from the old woman who used to look after Roger.” And as +the other took it from her, “Rather a touching letter, but I don’t +feel I can bring myself to go to Ferry Place, my dear. I went there +once, and spent such a happy, happy day with Roger. This Mrs. Huntley +waited on us. Perhaps you will go instead of me? See what she says.” + +Enid took the letter, and this is what she read: + + + 6 Ferry Place. + _Tuesday._ + + Dear Madam, + + I don’t know what to do about the doctor’s things, and I should be + glad if you could spare time to come here. Also there is something on + my mind that I’d like to tell you, Mrs. Gretorex. But I gave my word, + I even swore my oath to the doctor not to. So perhaps I oughtn’t to. + + I’ve tried to keep everything tidy, but the police pulled everything + about so. + + + Yours respectfully, + Bertha Huntley. + + +“I wonder what she wants to tell you?” + +“I can form a shrewd guess,” said Mrs. Gretorex in a low voice. + +The girl looked at her with eager eyes. “It may be something +tremendously important,” she exclaimed. + +The older woman shook her head. + +“It might have had a certain importance before the trial, but it would +have no importance now. I have no doubt that what Mrs. Huntley wants +to tell me is----” + +Then she hesitated, for Mrs. Gretorex was an old-fashioned +gentlewoman, who considered that certain things which unfortunately do +happen in life should not be dwelt on, much less mentioned, by “nice” +women. + +“What do you mean, Mrs. Gretorex? Do tell me!” + +The girl was looking at her with perplexed, unhappy eyes. Perhaps, +after all, it would be better to tell her the truth? It might cause +her to forget Roger more quickly than she could otherwise do. + +“I have very little doubt, Enid, that Mrs. Lexton, at one time, often +went to Ferry Place. Naturally Roger bound the old woman to silence. +He may have even made her swear that she would never reveal a fact so +damaging to Ivy Lexton’s reputation. I don’t know if a knowledge of +what I feel sure was the truth would have made any difference, one way +or the other, at the trial. In any case, it won’t make any difference +now.” + +“May I go off to Ferry Place now?” asked Enid eagerly. + +“Do, if you like. But be careful what you say, child.” She gazed into +the girl’s flushed face. “I think we ought to do what we know Roger +would wish us to do--and not to do.” + +And then, with a slight break in her even voice, she quoted the fine +line--“For silence is most noble to the end.” + + +As Enid Dent walked with what, to one passing her, would have appeared +to be the happy, eager steps of youth towards Ferry Place, she more +than once felt strongly inclined to turn back. + +The thought of going to the house where Roger Gretorex had lived and +worked during the months when he and she had become so entirely +estranged was bitter to her. Also, she now had to endure the incessant +talking and the kindly meant, but to her almost intolerable, sympathy +of the landlady of Mrs. Gretorex’s lodgings. The thought that she +would now endure more sympathy, and more garrulous talk, on the part +of Mrs. Huntley was well nigh unendurable. Why not go back and write a +nice letter to the old woman, explaining that Mrs. Gretorex was ill, +but wished Mrs. Huntley to know how deep was her gratitude for +everything she had done for her dear son? + +And then, just as she was going to turn around, Enid felt ashamed of +her strained nerves. If this old woman had been fond of Roger, then +she must be very unhappy now. + +She had to ask the way twice to Ferry Place, and each time she asked +the question she saw a peculiar look come over the stranger’s face, +showing, plainly enough, that he had recalled the fact that this was +where Roger Gretorex had lived, the man who had committed murder for +the sake of the woman he loved. The name of the obscure thoroughfare +had been constantly mentioned, bandied to and fro, during Gretorex’s +trial. + +Enid soon found the double row of shabby little houses. It was strange +to remember that Roger had lived for over a year in this +sordid-looking place. + +She walked slowly down the middle of the roadway till she reached No. +6. It looked just a little cleaner and “better class” than the houses +on each side of it. + +She knocked, and the door was opened almost at once, revealing a +grey-haired, sad-faced old woman, who, before the visitor could speak, +said sharply, “You’ve made a mistake. No one lives here now.” + +“I’ve come from Mrs. Gretorex,” said Enid in a low voice. + +And then the door, which had been nearly closed in her face, was +opened widely. + +“Come in, miss. Come in, do!” and the old woman opened a door to the +left, and showed the visitor into what had been Roger Gretorex’s +consulting-room. It was bare and poor-looking, but the girl, with a +stab of pain, saw at once a small piece of furniture which had always +stood in what was still called “the day nursery” at Anchorford Hall. + +“Mrs. Gretorex is ill, or she would have come herself. But she has +given me a message for you, Mrs. Huntley. She wishes me to tell you +how grateful--how grateful----” + +And then all at once Enid Dent broke down, and burst into a storm of +tears. + +She had not so “let herself go,” at any rate not in the day-time, +since the end of Roger Gretorex’s trial. But somehow now, with this +stranger, she didn’t care. It was such a comfort to have a good cry, +and something seemed to tell her that this sad, anxious-looking old +woman would understand, and sympathise with, her grief. + +Mrs. Huntley pushed the sobbing girl gently down into the worn leather +arm-chair in which Gretorex would sometimes put a delicate-looking +woman patient--the sort of patient who did not care to go into the +surgery. + +“I suppose,” said Mrs. Huntley in a troubled voice, “that you was the +doctor’s young lady, miss?” + +It somehow comforted Enid to hear those simple words, uttered in so +quiet, if pitying a tone. + +“I think I was,” she sobbed. “Indeed, I am sure I was--though that was +a long time ago, Mrs. Huntley.” + +“I know,” came the low-toned answer. And the old woman did know, +perhaps better than anyone else in the world, why Roger Gretorex had +left off thinking of the girl who now sat, the picture of despair, +before her. + +Enid suddenly got up. She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. + +“And now,” she said, “let me deliver the rest of my message, Mrs. +Huntley. Mrs. Gretorex knows how good you were to her son, and she +wants me to tell you that a little later on she would like you to come +down to Anchorford, for she does want to see you.” + +“Later on?” echoed the old woman in a strange voice. “But that would +be too late, miss. I has to see Mrs. Gretorex to-day for it to be of +any good. Can’t you take me to her? Not that I likes to leave the +house alone. I never do leave it--not since I got the message from Mr. +Oram that I was to regard myself as caretaker, that is.” + +“I am afraid you can’t see Mrs. Gretorex to-day,” said Enid firmly. +“But I’ll give her any message, and--and you can trust me, Mrs. +Huntley, you really can!” + +“I wonder if I can? I wonder if I dare?” + +“Have you anything to say that we don’t already know?” she asked. + +“Yes, I have, miss. But in telling it I may be doing wrong.” + +“D’you mean something about Dr. Gretorex? Something that might, even +now, make a difference?” + +“I don’t know. I can’t tell. I fear me it may be too late.” + +“Let me judge of that,” said Enid Dent. + +She had become quiet, collected, though she was filled with a feeling +of suspense and, she dared not call it “hope.” + +“Shall I tell you?” said Mrs. Huntley as if asking herself the +question. And then, all at once, she answered it, “Yes, surely I +will!” + + +Alfred Finch was reading a copy of an old complicated will. But though +he was trying to concentrate on the business in hand, he found his +mind straying persistently to the prison cell where Roger Gretorex sat +waiting for the morning of the day after to-morrow. For one thing, he +had heard by a side wind that the warder who had Gretorex in his +special charge believed him innocent, and this made a great impression +on him. That warder had had charge of over thirty men condemned to +death, and this was the first time he had ever believed one of them to +have been innocent of the crime for which he was to suffer death. + +The telephone bell at his elbow rang. + +“Miss Dent is on the line, Mr. Finch. Can you speak to her? She says +it’s very urgent.” + +“Put her through at once.” + +And then he heard an eager, quivering voice, “Is that Mr. Finch? Can +you come at once, Mr. Finch, to 6 Ferry Place? I believe I’ve got some +new evidence.” + +“New evidence?” + +Mr. Finch, though he was alone, shook his head. Had he not himself +done everything that was in the power of mortal man to procure new +evidence in the last three weeks, and had he not entirely failed? + +“I don’t wish to say more over the telephone, but can you come now, at +once, to take a statement from Dr. Gretorex’s day maid, Mrs. Huntley?” + +Mrs. Huntley? Why, that was the old caretaker woman! He remembered +distinctly reading over the record of her short, colourless, +unimportant interview with Inspector Orpington. + +Mrs. Huntley could have nothing new to say of the slightest value. +Stop, though--she probably knew certain facts which might have been +regarded as greatly to Mrs. Lexton’s discredit, had they come out at +the trial. Facts which would certainly have added pungency to Sir +Joseph Molloy’s speech for the defence. But Mrs. Huntley could have +nothing to reveal that could make any real difference, now, to the +fate of Roger Gretorex. + +However, if only because he had come to like and respect Mrs. +Gretorex’s young friend, Mr. Finch made up his mind he would do what +Enid Dent desired. + +“I’ll be with you within twenty minutes,” he called out. + +“Be as quick as you can. I’m so frightened, Mr. Finch.” + +“Frightened?” he repeated, surprised. + +“Yes.” The voice dropped. “Supposing Mrs. Huntley were to die, +suddenly, before you’ve heard what she’s got to say? I dare not tell +you what it is over the telephone. But it is very important----” + +Now Mr. Finch thought so little of what he was going to do, and, +presumably, hear, that he simply left word for Mr. Oram that he had +had to go out. And when he reached Westminster, he did not dismiss his +taxicab; he left it at the end of Ferry Place. + +Enid Dent stood waiting for him at the open door of the little house, +and he noted at once the strained, excited look on her face. + +Had she been a young man, and not a young woman, Alfred Finch would +have exclaimed, “Come, come! What’s all this pother about?” But as it +was, he looked at her very kindly, and made up his mind that he would +“let her down” as gently as might be. + +“I hope she’ll tell you all she told me,” murmured Enid as he shut the +door. “Mrs. Lexton told a lie when she said she had never been here +but once, and then with a woman friend. Mrs. Huntley swore to Roger +Gretorex that she would say nothing about that, and she feels that she +is breaking her oath. But I doubt if she realises herself the fearful +importance of something else she told me, something Roger may suspect, +but which only she actually saw.” + +And then she opened the door of the consulting-room. + +Mrs. Huntley was sitting all in a heap in a chair, staring before her. +She looked up when the two came in, but she did not get up. + +“Here is Mr. Finch. I want you to tell him exactly what you told me.” + +“You tell him, miss,” muttered the old woman. “I’ve told you +everything and--and I feels very upset.” + +“Mrs. Huntley is ready to swear,” said Enid quietly, “that she once +found Mrs. Lexton alone in the surgery here, with a jar labelled +arsenic standing on the table before her.” + +Alfred Finch, startled, looked hard at the old woman. Was she telling +the truth, or had she invented this ingenious story? + +“When did that happen?” he asked quietly. “Is there any way in which +you can fix the date of that occurrence, Mrs. Huntley?” + +She looked up at him. “Yes,” she said dully. “’Twas the last time Mrs. +Lexton ever had supper here. The doctor got a messenger boy, and sent +him up to a grand shop in Piccadilly for some cold fish--sole, I +thinks it was--done up in a newfangled fashion. Also there was a game +pie, likewise an ice.” + +“But how does that fix the date in your mind?” asked Alfred Finch +rather impatiently. + +“I can’t fix it. But you could, sir, from the messenger boys’ office. +I heard one of them boys once tell the doctor that they kep’ all their +receipts. ’Twas early last summer when that happened.” + +He felt suddenly convinced that she at least believed she was telling +the truth. + +“The last time Mrs. Lexton had supper here?” It was that statement +which in a sense impressed him. And had he been another kind of man he +would undoubtedly have explained, “But you yourself signed a statement +declaring that Mrs. Lexton had never been here, at 6 Ferry Place, +excepting on one occasion to tea?” + +But, instead of saying that, he observed encouragingly, “Now listen to +me, Mrs. Huntley. You say, I notice, ‘the last time.’ Would Mrs. +Lexton have been here to supper as many, say, as three or four times?” + +“Much oftener than that!” exclaimed the old woman, rousing herself. +“At one time, Mrs. Lexton was here constant. She’d come in just for +ten minutes. ’Nother time, maybe, for a couple of hours. She’d ’phone +first, to see if the doctor’ud be in. Mostly I couldn’t help knowing +about it, though the doctor always made an excuse to get me out of the +place before she come.” + +“And on that last occasion, what exactly was it that happened? Are you +sure this jar of arsenic was on the table, in front of Mrs. Lexton?” + +In his eagerness he came and flung himself across a chair, close to +the old woman. + +“I’m sure ’twas there, though I don’t know how it come there, +excepting that the doctor had maybe some medicine to make up. I come +in to clear up, and as I puts my key in the surgery door--that’s our +back-way in, sir--she didn’t hear me. When she did, she was awfully +put about. I begged her pardon, and I went away. And when I come round +to the front of the house, I saw the doctor letting a man out. That +was why Mrs. Lexton was alone, then, in the surgery. She was waiting +for the doctor, maybe to get her a cab. He often did that.” + +“I suppose you can give me nothing that would afford any corroboration +as to what you have just told me? I mean that would make anyone know +that you are now telling the truth? _I_ believe you, Mrs. Huntley, but +you know that, in a matter of this sort, belief doesn’t go very far. +People want proof.” + +“I knows that. But I can’t say no more than I have said.” + +“Is there nothing? Think, Mrs. Huntley!” exclaimed Enid Dent. “Did you +never tell anyone outside that you’d found Mrs. Lexton in the surgery +under such curious circumstances?” + +“I give the doctor my word I’d never tell on either of them. He said I +could do a great thing for him in doing that, and I’ve kep’ my word +till to-day.” + +And then Alfred Finch had something like an inspiration. + +“Of course, I know the police made a thorough search of this house,” +he observed. “But I ask myself, Mrs. Huntley, if they overlooked +anything--_anything in the way of a letter or letters?_” And he looked +very hard at the old woman. + +Mrs. Huntley blinked at him, and for the first time she looked uneasy +and ashamed. + +“I’ve got summat,” she said in a low reluctant voice. “Summat I’ve no +business to have. It’s two love-letters Mrs. Lexton wrote to the +doctor. As was his way, poor young gentleman, he tore them up in +little pieces, and----” + +“You pieced them together,” observed Mr. Finch pleasantly. + +Enid Dent gave a gasp, as he went on: + +“If you can produce those letters, I think I can promise you, Mrs. +Huntley, that Dr. Gretorex will not hang the day after to-morrow. +They, together with a sworn statement made by you before a +Commissioner of Oaths, will provide what is called ‘new evidence.’ I +want you to go with me now into the surgery, to tell me exactly where +Mrs. Lexton was standing when you surprised her. You are sure that she +was alone?” he added quickly. + +“She was quite alone,” said Mrs. Huntley positively. “I come in softly +like, and there she was! I can show you exactly where she was +standing.” + +She got up and led the way down the passage, and through the two doors +which shut off the surgery from the house. + +“Is everything here just as it was?” asked Mr. Finch quickly. + +“No, sir. They took away everything as was in that cupboard, but they +left the books.” + +He glanced up at the row of shabby volumes in the hanging bookcase, +but made no comment. + +“Is that the same table where stood the jar labelled arsenic?” + +Mrs. Huntley put her work-worn hand on a certain spot on the deal +table. + +“The jar was here; the light was full on it, and I saw it plain as +plain.” + +And then she acted, or, rather, enacted, the scene with some spirit, +making Enid Dent stand exactly where Ivy Lexton had stood. + +“I noticed particular how she was dressed,” she went on eagerly. “She +always dressed very dainty-like, lovely clothes they was! And she had +the most peculiar looking bag I ever did see. ’Twas exactly like +mother-of-pearl. Lovely it was! I noticed it when she turned round. +Says she, ‘Why, Mrs. Huntley, how you did startle me,’ or something +like that, sir.” + +Alfred Finch was writing down every word that came out of her mouth. +He was one of those men who never lose a chance, and he had invented a +kind of shorthand for himself. Everything the woman had said since he +had come into the room had been put on record by him. + +“And now,” he said quietly, “I’ll trouble you to show me those two +letters.” + +Finch noticed that Mrs. Huntley gave just an imperceptible glance +towards the girl who stood a little aside, gazing into vacancy, as if +her thoughts were far away, as indeed they were--with Roger Gretorex +in his prison cell. + +“Yes, sir, I’ll go and get the letters, but I do hope Dr. Gretorex +won’t ever know I did such a thing as that, sir? I was very attached +to the doctor, and that made me feel curious, I suppose. I oughtn’t to +have acted so, sir; I knew I was doing wrong.” + +“All I can say now is, thank God you did do wrong, Mrs. Huntley! But +don’t you worry--we won’t let him ever know you did what you did. +After all, anyone who found those pieces might have put them together, +eh? Why people don’t burn compromising documents always beats me! I’ve +got a cab at the end of the street, and I want you to come along this +very minute to a Commissioner of Oaths. I’ve got all you’ve told me in +black and white. You’ll only have just to repeat word for word what +I’ve got down here before the gentleman, and then swear it’s true.” + +“But do you think I ought to leave the house, sir?” + +“We can leave Miss Dent here, while I go on to your place to get those +letters.” + +When, within a quarter of an hour, the three were standing outside the +queer little office of a Commissioner of Oaths, with whom Alfred Finch +happened to be acquainted, Mr. Finch said something which surprised +Enid Dent. “I think you’d better not come in here with us,” he +muttered. “You see, it’s better, in such a case, to have the witness +alone. Prevents her being nervous.” + +She did not guess the truth, which was that, in the few minutes he had +been away with the old woman, she had spoken more freely than she had +cared to do before the girl whom she regarded as Gretorex’s “young +lady.” And some of the things she had then told him Alfred Finch +determined should be embodied in her statutory declaration. Mr. Finch +was keenly alive to the value of prejudice. He was aware that the Home +Secretary was a man of rigid, some would have said too rigid, moral +principle. + +So it was with considerable satisfaction that he had exclaimed, after +reading through the two letters, “My word! Mrs. Lexton’s what _I_ call +a hot cup of tea. Eh? Mrs. Huntley?” + +Solemnly she had nodded her head. She had always known that such was +the fact, though she wouldn’t perhaps have put it in just those words, +for she was a refined, delicate-natured old woman. + + + + + Chapter Twenty + +The morning after these events had taken place, the Home Secretary, +Sir Edward Law, was moving about his fine room in Whitehall. He felt +restless and thoroughly ill at ease, and that, although he was a +statesman noted for his calm and cool temperament. + +Within a few moments from now he expected his door to open and three +persons to be shown in. First there would be a solicitor named John +Oram, whose name he vaguely knew as that of a man of the highest +standing in his profession, and who, the year before, had been +President of the Law Society. Mr. Oram was the legal adviser of Roger +Gretorex, a man convicted of murder, whose execution had been fixed to +take place the following morning at nine o’clock. Then Sir Joseph +Molloy, the most famous advocate of the day, known by the cynically +minded as “the murderer’s friend,” who had defended Roger Gretorex at +the Old Bailey would accompany Mr. Oram, though his presence could not +be regarded as being quite in order. However, Sir Joseph was a very +old friend of the Home Secretary, and he had pleaded urgently to be +allowed to come this morning. The Judge, Mr. Justice Mayhew, who had +tried Roger Gretorex, was the third visitor expected, his presence at +the forthcoming conference being, very properly, regarded as +essential. + +An odd thing had happened only the previous day in connection with +this Gretorex case. Sir Edward Law had received an envelope, marked +“Private,” and containing a letter signed “Roger Gretorex.” With it, a +plain piece of paper bore the following words: “The enclosed was +written to Mrs. Lexton only last November, after the beginning of +Jervis Lexton’s illness. It reads like the letter of an innocent man.” + +That touching, in its way noble, love-letter had much impressed him, +and had added a note of real mystery to a story with all the details +of which he was by now painfully familiar. + +At last Sir Edward stopped in front of his writing-table. There, in a +place by themselves, stood five white cards. Each was marked with a +name and a date; and they formed a perpetual reminder that four men +and one woman were now lying under sentence of death. For the date on +each of those death-cards was the day on which the person named was to +suffer the last penalty of the law. + +The Home Secretary’s eyes became fixed on the card bearing the name of +Roger Gretorex, the young man of gentle birth who had been sentenced +to death at the Old Bailey for the murder of one Jervis Lexton. And, +as he gazed at the rather unusual name, the Minister, in whose hands +the fate of these men and one woman still reposed, asked himself, with +a tightening of the heart, whether Sir Joseph Molloy might not be +right after all in his belief that there had been a grave miscarriage +of justice. + +Sir Edward Law was a man with a high sense of duty. At first he had +naturally accepted the verdict at the trial as conclusive of +Gretorex’s guilt, and he had daily expected to hear the news that +there had been a full confession, especially after he learnt that the +condemned man had refused to enter an appeal. But he had been +unwillingly impressed by Sir Joseph Molloy’s strong conviction of his +client’s innocence, and now he understood that certain extraordinary +new evidence was to be laid before him this morning, at what was +indeed the eleventh hour. + +That was why, as late as the day before, the Home Secretary had +conscientiously read once more all the documents, and they were many, +connected with what had been called “The Lexton Mystery.” He had felt +it to be his plain duty thus to prepare himself for the critical +examination which it would be his business to apply to this new +evidence. + +And yet? And yet, he could not imagine what new evidence could +possibly be adduced of a nature strong enough to upset the apparently +conclusive case built up against Roger Gretorex at the trial. + + +The door opened, and Sir Edward’s principal private secretary came in. + +“Sir Joseph Molloy to see you, sir, by appointment. And there is +another man with him.” + +Thus announced, Sir Joseph Molloy, who was followed by Alfred Finch, +entered the room and, after greeting his old friend, the Home +Secretary, came at once to business. + +“Mr. Oram is unfortunately ill, so I have ventured to bring in his +stead his head clerk, Mr. Finch, who has had all the threads of the +Gretorex case in his hands. Indeed, it is to Mr. Finch that I believe +we owe the proof of a fearful miscarriage of justice. I hope he will +be able to convince you, Sir Edward, of the innocence of his most +unfortunate client, Roger Gretorex. ‘Murder, though it hath no tongue, +will speak!’” added Sir Joseph in a dramatic tone. + +The Home Secretary slightly raised his eyebrows. Sir Joseph was going +just a little bit too fast, as he sometimes did, especially when he +had any kind of audience. But the famous advocate realised that he was +not going quite the right way to work, for quickly he changed his +tone: + +“I think, Sir Edward, that after you have seen the statutory +declaration made by a certain person who was closely connected with +Gretorex’s London life, as well as other new evidence which Mr. Finch +is about to lay before you, you will agree that there is a strong case +for, at any rate, the postponement of Roger Gretorex’s execution.” + +And then the door of the room opened again, and the Judge who had +tried the Lexton case came in. + +Mr. Justice Mayhew appeared outwardly his usual calm and dignified +self. But within he was full of interest, and even a certain +excitement. Unlike the Home Secretary, he thought nothing of Sir +Joseph Molloy’s belief in his client’s innocence; what had profoundly +impressed him had been the condemned man’s refusal to appeal. + +A few moments later the three men--for Alfred Finch was standing a +little aside, he had done his part and he knew the documents which he +had brought with him almost by heart--were gazing with intense +curiosity at Mrs. Huntley’s statutory declaration. Each, in turn, read +the pasted-up fragments of Ivy Lexton’s two passionate love-letters. +They belonged to an early period of her friendship with Roger +Gretorex, and each letter proposed a meeting at Ferry Place. On each +occasion she had chosen an evening, or rather a night, when her +husband was to be with an old friend who had a fishing place some way +from London. + +And then the Home Secretary took out of a drawer, and handed to the +Judge, Gretorex’s own piteous letter to Ivy Lexton, the letter which +had remained so long hidden in Mrs. Berwick’s desk. + +It took quite a little while for Sir Edward Law and Mr. Justice Mayhew +to make themselves fully acquainted with what had been laid before +them. And then they looked at one another in silence for a moment. As +for Sir Joseph, he wisely said nothing, though he was longing +intensely to express something of the triumph and exultation which +filled his heart. + +“I read a full report of the case over again yesterday,” said the Home +Secretary. “There seemed to me, then, no doubt as to the guilt of +Roger Gretorex. But this Mrs. Huntley’s report of what she swears she +saw the very day before, it is now ascertained, Jervis Lexton had his +first attack of illness, does, I admit, entirely alter the complexion +of everything. But I should not have attached very great importance to +a statement which rests on the word of one person, who, if she tells +the truth now, certainly lied before, had we not also these three +letters. They prove that Mrs. Lexton has committed gross perjury.” + +As the two men he was addressing remained silent, he went on: “I +suppose the police made a thorough search of the flat in which Jervis +Lexton met his death?” + +And then all at once Alfred Finch took a hand. + +“No, Sir Edward, the flat was not searched,” he answered +deferentially. + +“Are you sure of that?” + +“Quite sure. It is not usual to institute a search unless there is +cause for suspicion against a person actually living in the house or +flat where the murder has been committed. Now, the first C.I.D. man, +who was in charge of the preliminary inquiries, undoubtedly formed the +definite opinion that Roger Gretorex had poisoned Jervis Lexton. From +his point of view there was no need to go further, the more so as his +view was confirmed by a conversation he had with Gretorex just after +he had taken a statement from Mrs. Lexton. The inspector, a day or two +later on, interviewed Mrs. Huntley. You have that first statement of +hers, gentlemen, in that bundle of papers I have laid down over there, +marked ‘I.’ Mrs. Huntley then perjured herself, apparently because she +had made a solemn promise to Dr. Gretorex to reveal nothing as to his +association with Mrs. Lexton. She was, of course, quite unaware, at +the time, of the fearful injury she was doing her employer.” + +The Home Secretary opened the bundle marked “I.” He read through first +the notes which Inspector Orpington had made during his first +interview with Ivy Lexton--that interview during which she had gone +out of her way to volunteer the fact that Roger Gretorex entertained +for her a hopeless, unrequited passion. + +Sir Edward next read most carefully again Mrs. Lexton’s two letters to +Gretorex, as well as the letter which had reached him anonymously only +yesterday. + +“This Mrs. Lexton appears to be, in any case, a most hypocritical and +abandoned woman,” he observed tartly. + +Sir Joseph Molloy laughed a merry, hearty, boyish laugh, and Mr. +Justice Mayhew looked round at him with an expression of shocked +disgust on his stern face. + +But “divil a bit,” as he said to himself, did Sir Joseph care for +that. + +“Do you agree,” said Sir Edward Law, looking at the Judge, “that these +various documents provide sufficient reason for further inquiries?” + +Mr. Justice Mayhew waited for what seemed a very long time, both to +Sir Joseph and to Alfred Finch. Then reluctantly he answered: + +“Yes, I think we have certainly cause here for the execution to be +postponed, and for further inquiries to be made.” + +“Now that we are on what I may term the right track,” exclaimed Sir +Joseph, “I trust that my unhappy friend Roger Gretorex will not be +allowed to languish in the cell of a condemned felon a moment longer +than is absolutely necessary?” + +The great advocate felt that he had now done all he could, and he was +well aware that he had only been admitted to this conference by +favour. And so, after a word of thanks to his old friend, and a sly +look of triumph at the Judge, he went away, taking Alfred Finch with +him, and leaving the Home Secretary and Mr. Justice Mayhew alone +together. + + +Inspector Orpington looked not only serious but also very grim, as, +early that afternoon, and accompanied by the same colleague as had +been with him here before, he rang the bell of Mrs. Lexton’s flat. + +He felt extremely incensed for, turn the facts round in his mind as he +might, there was no doubt that the childishly simple-looking, lovely +little woman had completely taken him in. She had certainly, as he put +it to himself, bamboozled him to the top of her bent. + +Yet, even now, he found it almost impossible to believe that Ivy +Lexton had poisoned her husband. Even so, he had been very much +startled and impressed, not so much by Mrs. Huntley’s new statement, +for he knew her to be a liar. No, what had astounded him had been +Ivy’s letters to Roger Gretorex. Though these two letters had been +written at a time when the writer was passionately in love with her +correspondent, they revealed quite a different type of woman from what +everyone connected with the case had taken her to be. + +Inspector Orpington had also been unwillingly impressed by the letter +written by Gretorex to Ivy in evident answer to one in which she had +begged him to leave off coming to see her. The date, that of November +the 6th, inscribed on Gretorex’s letter, proved that she had written +the note to which it had been the answer after she had started her +cruel work of poisoning her husband, if indeed she had poisoned her +husband. The inspector realised that the letter was what might have +been called a bull point in the writer’s favour. It breathed sincerity +in every line. + +It seemed a long time, to the two men standing there, before the door +of the flat was opened by the cook. She looked surprised when she saw +the inspector standing there, and then she smiled amiably. + +“Want to see Mrs. Lexton?” she inquired. And, as he nodded, “Then want +will be your master! She’s away in the country, and not coming back +yet awhile.” + +Orpington had already walked through into the hall. + +“All alone in the flat?” he asked casually. + +“I am this minute. There don’t seem any reason for keeping a young +girl here all day just to do nothing,” said the woman tolerantly. “She +works pretty hard when Mrs. Lexton is at home, that I will say.” + +“Where is Mrs. Lexton staying?” + +“I’ve got it down on a bit of paper. It’s near Brighton. A place +belonging to the Lady Flora something or other. I’ll go and get it.” + +“Wait a sec. We’ve come on what isn’t a very pleasant job, cook. We’ve +got to search this place of yours.” + +“Search this place?” Cook looked taken aback. “Whatever for?” + +As no answer was vouchsafed to that question, “I’ll just go and tidy +my room then,” she exclaimed. “I’ve been taking things easy since Mrs. +Lexton went away. Where will you begin? How about the dining-room just +here?” + +“All right. We’ll begin with the dining-room, and work down towards +the kitchen.” + +He added in a perfunctory tone, “No need to tell you to hide nothing, +eh, cook?” + +“There’s nothing to hide!” she exclaimed with some heat. “Everything’s +always left open. Mrs. Lexton isn’t a lady to lock up her jewellery, +like some do. She trusts us, and we are worthy of the trust, same as +everyone is who is trusted.” + +“If that’s so ’twill make our job easy. Then there’s no lock-up at +all?” and he looked at her rather hard. + +“I keeps my box locked up, but you’re welcome to the key!” + +“Don’t you be afraid. We’ll let your box alone. I meant, is there no +lock-up this end of the flat?” + +She waited a moment. “There’s half the big hanging cupboard in Mrs. +Lexton’s bedroom always kept locked, just because there’s nothing in +it. She keeps all her fine clothes--my, and she has got a lot, fit to +stock a shop with!--in a little room that no one uses, next door to +the bathroom.” + +“Have you got the key of that part of the hanging cupboard?” + +“I’ve never even seen it. But I expect it’s about somewhere. Maybe in +the dressing-table drawer.” + +It takes a long time to search a room thoroughly, and by the time the +two men had done with the dining-room and the drawing-room, they felt +tired. + +“Perhaps we’d better do Mrs. Lexton’s room next? Not that I expect to +find anything there. The room in which that poor chap died was +searched, and thoroughly too, though not till after the post-mortem.” + +Cook brought the bit of paper on which Ivy had written down her +country address. Then she went off again into her kitchen. + +The two men walked, in a rather gingerly way, into Ivy Lexton’s +charming bedroom. + +There the searchers had an easy task, for everything was unlocked, as +the cook had said it would be. + +But suddenly Orpington exclaimed, “Why, this must be the room where, +according to that good old soul, there’s a lock-up? I’d forgotten +that! It’s the half of this big cupboard. Seen any keys about?” + +The other shook his head. + +Orpington, stepping back, looked dubiously at the big handsome inlaid +piece of furniture. It was a fine bit of early Victorian cabinet work, +and had belonged to the mother of the Miss Rushworth whose room this +was. Though it was not in modern taste, Inspector Orpington thought it +a beautiful object. + +“I wonder if we’ve any call to force this lock?” he muttered to +himself. “I wouldn’t like to hurt that cupboard in any way. It’s a +good piece----” + +“I bet you I can open it all right without doing it a bit of harm,” +said the other man confidently. + +He went up to the cupboard. Then he did something to the lock with a +bit of wire he happened to have in his pocket, and--the big door swung +open. + +Orpington came forward quickly. He peered into the mahogany-lined +cavity. It was empty, save for a shabby-looking red-leather +despatch-box, on which, so faded as to be practically indecipherable, +were embossed three gilt letters. + +“That’s a rummy looking thing! One wouldn’t expect Mrs. Lexton would +have such an object as this about,” and he lifted the despatch-box out +of the cupboard. + +It was surprisingly light. + +“I wonder if she kept Gretorex’s love-letters in there,” said the +other with a laugh. “If so, we may find something useful, eh?” + +Orpington shook the box. Though it was so light he could feel that +there was something in it which rolled about. + +“You won’t find it as easy to open this box as you did that cupboard,” +he observed, “but it has to be done.” + +“The only way we could open this,” said the sergeant, decidedly, +“would be with a kitchen knife, unless they’ve got a chisel.” + +“You go and get what you can from the old woman.” + +A minute or two later the man came back. “She’s in her room tidying +up,” he said with a grin, “so I just took this without saying ‘by your +leave.’” And he held up a short stout kitchen knife. + +“You just lock that door,” said Orpington quickly. + +And then, the two men, by exerting a great deal of strength, managed +to prize open the hinges of the old despatch-box which had belonged to +Ivy’s father. The lock stayed fast. + +The inspector felt a pang of disappointment, for there only lay on the +rubbed green velvet lining a lady’s fancy handbag. + +And then Orpington suddenly remembered Mrs. Huntley’s sworn statement. +In that statement was actually a description of the bag Ivy had had +with her when the old woman had found her alone in the surgery with +the jar of arsenic on the table before her. A bolster bag that “looked +like mother-of-pearl.” This was the same one without doubt. + +He took the odd little bag out of the despatch-box and pressed the +jewelled knob--to find nothing in it but a cable from South Africa. +The signature, “Rushworth,” meant nothing to him, though of course he +knew of the famous Rushworth Line. + +Then he opened the little white leather-lined, inner pocket of the +bag. It, too, was empty. A faint scent, that of a popular face powder, +rose from it. + +And then, suddenly, he noticed, with a queer quickening of his pulse, +that a few grains of what looked like kitchen salt clung to the white +leather sides. + +Moistening his finger, he put it against the leather, and a few grains +stuck on to his wet finger. Face powder? No, not face powder. He +touched his finger with his tongue, and then the colour rushed up all +over his face. + +“I’d like Sir Bernard to have a squint at that!” he exclaimed, holding +up the open bag. + +“D’you mean you’ve found something?” the other cried excitedly. + +“Hush!” + +Carefully Orpington put the rather absurd-looking mother-of-pearl +bolster into a big black bag which he had brought with him. Then he +put the empty despatch-box back into the cupboard. + +“Let’s get out of this,” he murmured, “before the old woman sees us. +Can you manage to shut the cupboard as cleverly as you opened it?” + +“I think I can,” said the other. And sure enough he did shut it, +though it took him longer to lock up the half of the great +early-Victorian cupboard than it had done to unlock it. + +Orpington took a card out of his notebook. He wrote on it: “We’ve seen +everything we wanted. Shan’t be troubling you any more,” and left it +in a prominent place on the hall table. + +Then he shut the front door rather loudly behind him, and, together, +the two men went down the stairs by the side of the lift. + +When they were safely out of the Duke of Kent Mansion, the inspector +stayed his steps. + +“I’ve got her!” he said exultingly. “Little Ivy will live to be sorry +she bamboozled ‘yours truly,’ my boy!” + + + + + Chapter Twenty-one + +With a sudden cry of fear Ivy Lexton sat up in the Jacobean +four-post bed, where she had spent a broken night. + +She was still plunged in sleep, but anyone standing, say, by the large +half-moon window of the delightful old-world country bedroom would +have thought her awake, for her violet-blue eyes were wide open and +dilated, as if with terror. + +How lovely she looked; how childlike was the pure, delicate contour of +her face, and the droop of her little red mouth. Her dimpled shoulders +rose from what she called a “nightie” of flesh-coloured crêpe de +Chine. The sleeveless bodice was edged with a deep band of real lace, +and, to the eyes of the old-fashioned maid who waited on her in this, +her friend’s, Lady Flora Desmond’s, country cottage, it looked more +like a ball-dress than a nightgown. + +There were tens of thousands of human beings who, had they been +privileged to see Ivy as she was now, this morning, would have felt +their hearts contract with intense pity for the woman they regarded as +having been the innocent victim of an extraordinary set of ironic +circumstances. There were also tens of thousands of other human beings +who, though they had had strong doubts as to the part she had played +in the singular story, would have told themselves that their +suspicions had been cruelly unjust, could they have looked into that +flower-like face, and heard the words now escaping from her +half-opened mouth. + +Those words were uttered in an appealing, broken tone, “Don’t hurt +him! Please don’t hurt him!” And then: “Oh, Roger, I am so sorry for +you!” + +Ivy’s soul was not here in this delightful country bedroom. It had +travelled a long long way, to a prison situated on the outskirts of +London. + +She seemed to be gazing through the door of a small, bare room, which +she knew to be now occupied by one on whom judgment of death was to be +executed that morning. + +There stood by the pallet bed the tall, sinewy figure of a man who had +loved her with a passionate and absorbing love, and whom she, in her +own fashion, had also loved. By his wish, at his trial, not a word +concerning what she had called their “friendship,” had been uttered in +extenuation of anything he, Roger Gretorex, had done, or left undone. + +There he stood, the man whose arms had so often cradled her, on whom +she had made the limitless demands that a woman only makes on the man +she loves. Never once, in great or in little things, had he failed +her. + +This morning he looked strange indeed, for though dressed, he was +collarless, and clad in an old tweed suit--a suit which Ivy remembered +well, and which she had once told him caressingly she liked to see him +wear. + +He held himself upright, with his head thrown back in what had been a +characteristic attitude. + +In Ivy’s vision two men were pinioning Roger’s arms, and it was to +them that, living through this terrible nightmare, she had just +addressed her piteous plea. And then with slow steps the chaplain, +together with the governor of the prison, walked in.… + +It was all happening exactly as Ivy had once seen something happen, in +what had then appeared to her just a thrilling scene in a play, in +London about a year ago. + +And now Roger left the cell and began walking, with steady steps, his +head still thrown back, down a narrow way.… + +And then the woman in the bed gave a stifled shriek, for suddenly she +saw the gallows through an open door at the end of the passage. + +She covered her face with her hands, yet something seemed to force her +to peep through her fingers and--for a fleeting moment--Roger Gretorex +turned and looked at her.… + +So had the condemned man turned and looked at the woman in the play. + +But Roger’s face was so charged with mute, terrible reproach that, +with an anguished cry of protest, Ivy awoke--awoke to the blessed +reality that she was sixty miles from the place where that awful drama +was to be enacted this morning. + +Her shaking hand felt for her diamond-circled watch on the Chippendale +table standing by her bed. Having found it, she held it up close +before her eyes. + +It was only eight o’clock. She sighed heavily, for that meant that +there was another hour of misery and suspense to be lived through. +Nay, maybe even as much as an hour and a half--for the morbid-minded +woman pal of hers who intended to stand near the prison gate till the +death notice was put up, and had promised faithfully to telephone to +her from a house near by, had thought it unlikely she could get a +trunk call through before half-past nine. + +The tears began rolling down Ivy Lexton’s cheeks; yet it was not for +Roger Gretorex, and his awful fate, that she was weeping. It was for +pity of herself, for all she had gone through, and for what remained +for her to go through, till she knew for certain that Roger Gretorex +had died, as he had lived, silent. + +She was well aware, deep down in her heart, that not only his counsel, +Sir Joseph Molloy, who believed him innocent, but also that Roger’s +mother, would hope up to the last moment of his sentient life that he +would clear himself by shifting the burden of guilt on the one who was +guilty. + +Ivy had written the condemned man a letter three days ago, and she had +made so many rough copies of that short letter that she knew it, now, +by heart. + +She repeated that touching letter over to herself, rocking her slight +body this way and that in the large bed. + + + _Sunday night._ + + Dear Roger, + + I am ill, so I cannot come to you. Otherwise I would do so. You know + that I believe you innocent, and I want now to tell you how _grateful_ + I am for all your kindness to me, and for the love, however _wrong_ it + may have been, that you lavished on me. + + Ivy. + + +She hoped that letter had given poor Roger pleasure and, above all, +that he had read between the lines and seen how really, truly sorry +she was--how dreadfully grieved that everything had fallen out as it +had fallen out. Indeed, she had twice underlined the word “grateful.” + +And then she suddenly felt that she could not go on remembering any +more. It was too horrible--too horrible! So she took a bottle off the +little table, where her watch was lying, and measured out a small dose +into a medicine glass. Lady Flora would wake her, she knew, when that +secretly longed-for message came through. + +Soon she was once more plunged into uneasy slumber. But alas! again +there came that hideous, hideous nightmare. + +Once more she seemed transported to the condemned cell. But this time, +in addition to the warders, the governor of the prison, and the +chaplain, there was the horrid, cruel, fat-faced man, Sir Joseph +Molloy, who had cross-examined her. True, he had dealt with her +gently, kindly, but only because he had been adjured to do so, and, as +well she remembered, with now and again a tigerish glare in his blue +Irish eyes. + +She listened with a feeling of indignation and pitiful dread to his +voice uttering the words: “I adjure you, Gretorex, to tell the truth, +now, for the sake of your poor mother who has always believed you +innocent!” + +There was a pause. Ivy clasped her hands together in supplication. But +the collarless prisoner had turned his sunken eyes away from her +pleading face. Was he going to obey Sir Joseph Molloy? Yes! For she +heard Roger’s deep voice answer: “It is as you have always thought it +was, Sir Joseph. I die innocent. Ivy Lexton poisoned her husband.” + +Outside that quiet bedroom Lady Flora, already on her way down to +breakfast, heard a fearful cry--“No! No! _No!_--that isn’t true!” + +She opened the bedroom door and saw that Ivy was asleep. “Poor child,” +she murmured. “No wonder she talks in her sleep. Thank God! that +unhappy man is to be hanged this morning.” + +And, being the manner of woman she was, she offered up a silent prayer +for the murderer, that he might make his peace with God. + + +There came a sharp knock on the bedroom door, and Ivy woke with a +stifled cry. She jumped straight out of bed and stood, her hands +clasped together, waiting. + +There came another knock, and then, “Come in!” she cried shrilly, and +Lady Flora’s old parlourmaid entered the room. + +Ivy had never liked the woman, and the woman had never liked her. She +did not understand, and she never quite knew how to treat, those of +her own sex whom she regarded as inferior to herself; yet some of the +kindest letters written to her in the last few weeks had been from +domestic servants, warmly sympathising with the heroine of their +favourite Sunday paper. + +“Mrs. Doghill is on the telephone, ma’am. Her ladyship is holding the +line till you come.” + +Ivy snatched up her periwinkle-blue satin dressing-gown and wrapped it +about her. Then she thrust her little white feet into slippers that +matched the dressing-gown, and ran downstairs, telling herself, not +for the first time, how stupid it was to have the telephone in so +public a place as the hall. + +Lady Flora was standing, the telephone receiver to her ear. But when +she saw Ivy she silently handed her the receiver and, turning into the +dining-room, shut the door. + +“Is that you, Millicent? Yes--yes! I can hear quite well----” + +She waited in an agony of mingled hope and fear till, with startling +distinctness, came the measured words that were being uttered sixty +miles away. + +“There’s been a reprieve. The story goes that important new evidence +was laid before the Home Secretary yesterday.” + +Ivy remained silent. She felt stunned. New evidence? + +At last she managed to get out, in a low, strangled voice, “I--I don’t +quite understand.” + +But instantly she heard a cross voice interject, “You’ve had six +minutes--can’t allow you to have any more now.” + +“Indeed I haven’t! I’ve only just come to the telephone,” she said +pleadingly. + +“I can’t help that. The call was put through six minutes ago----” And +ruthlessly she was cut off. + +Ivy turned towards the room where she knew her hostess was waiting, +full of sympathy. She opened the door, and then she cried, “He’s +been--he’s been----” and before she could say the word “reprieved” she +had fallen fainting at the other woman’s feet. + +Lady Flora would not have believed an angel, had an angel come and +told her, that her dear little friend Ivy Lexton had fainted, not from +relief, but from sheer, agonising fear. + +Ivy spent the rest of the morning in bed, a prey to frightful anxiety +and terror. + +New evidence? What could that mean? Had Roger really failed her at +last? + +At twelve o’clock the parlourmaid came in with a telegram. + + + Hope to be with you to-morrow evening. + + Miles Rushworth. + + +The telegram had been sent from Paris the day before, and delayed in +transmission. + +“There is no answer,” said Mrs. Lexton in her soft voice. And then she +lay back, feeling much less unhappy. + +Whatever the mysterious reprieve might portend, Rushworth would very +soon, in fact to-morrow, be here to help and to protect her. + +As she read the telegram over for the third time, Ivy told herself how +noble, how generous, how devoted the sender had proved himself. Also, +what a wonderful life lay before her as his cherished, sheltered wife! +Rushworth was all-powerful. New evidence? There could be no “new +evidence” for the simple reason that nothing, nothing, _nothing_ had +ever happened--that could possibly be found out. + + + + + Chapter Twenty-two + +As he walked up the gangway of the cross-Channel boat at Calais, +Miles Rushworth’s heart was full of two women. The one was his dead +sister, the other Ivy Lexton, the woman to whom he was hastening, and +whom he expected to see to-day. Every fibre of Rushworth’s being +longed consciously, hungrily, thirstily, for Ivy. + +It was a source of real grief to him that these two could never now +meet and love each other. He had been painfully aware that his sister +hoped he would marry her own dearest friend, Bella Dale, and he had +not dared to speak to her of Ivy. + +During his long, dreary journey home he had often asked himself if all +she had gone through had changed her from the deliciously pretty, +kind-hearted, rather irresponsible little creature he remembered her +as being, into a more serious woman. Not that he wanted Ivy different. +To him she was already absolutely perfect. But her letters had grown +shorter, as his had grown longer, and vaguely they had disappointed +him. + +Roger Gretorex? How often had Rushworth tried to visualise the young +man who had committed so dastardly a crime in order to set free the +woman he had loved hopelessly, and without return, from the +degradation of being tied to such a waster as had been Jervis Lexton. + +Though even the South African papers had been full of the wretched +fellow’s photographs, proving that he had a singularly handsome face, +Rushworth had no clear vision of him. Also, Ivy had never once +mentioned him in any of her letters. + +Suddenly that fact, Ivy’s absolute silence concerning Gretorex, struck +him as being strange. He also realised, what he had not realised till +now, that poor lovely Ivy could not but be, all her life long, even +after she changed her name, a marked woman. She would be always +pointed at, and that wherever she went in English-speaking lands, as +the heroine of a great _cause célèbre_. + +Yet stop! In the circumstances, would it not only be right, but +reasonable, that she should marry him, Miles Rushworth, almost at +once? He would beg her, entreat her, to consent to an immediate +marriage. And then he would take her away in his yacht to the South, +to some quiet place where they two could be hidden in a trance of +love, while people forgot the sordid story of the murder of which she +had been the innocent cause. + +It was a fine winter day, though bitterly cold, so the home-coming +traveller found himself a comfortable spot in a sheltered place, on +the upper deck of the steamer, where was just room for three. + +Two deck-chairs were already occupied, one by a big man with whose +powerful, humorous face Rushworth felt he was vaguely familiar, the +other by a delicate, fragile-looking, little grey-haired lady. The +third chair was unoccupied, and so he sat down in it. + +Perhaps because he was in a sentimental mood to-day, he felt queerly +moved when he saw that, under their rug, the big man was holding the +hand of the grey-haired little lady. They were talking together +eagerly, happily; obviously, so Rushworth told himself, an +old-fashioned husband and wife, never so happy as when they were +together. + +His heart swung back to Ivy Lexton, and to the bliss of their coming +meeting. + +Poor, precious darling! What a terrible ordeal she had been through! +He would regret all his life, all their joint life, that he had been +far from her during the weeks that had followed the strange death of +Jervis Lexton. + +And then--for a moment he thought his ears had misled him--he heard +that very name of “Lexton” uttered aloud by the man sitting one from +him. + +“That Lexton affair? Come now. If you really read your loving +husband’s letters--I sometimes suspect that you don’t, you naughty +little thing--well, there’d be nothing left to tell you! It’s hunting +I should be to-day, instead of coming to meet an ungrateful woman.” + +“I want to know what’s happening now, Joe. Also, most of all, what led +to the extraordinary reprieve on the very day this man was to have +been hanged?” + +A reprieve? Miles Rushworth felt a sudden rush of anger and surprise. +He was, of course, aware that Roger Gretorex, the man whose name and +personality he loathed, and for whom he felt he would ever feel an +intense, retrospective horror, was to have been hanged this very +morning. That fact had been stated in both the daily papers which are +published in English in Paris. + +If it was true that there had been a reprieve that morning, how had +this stranger already become aware of the fact? + +“You know I told you, Eileen, long ago, that the poor chap had refused +to appeal?” + +“Yes, I remember that,” she murmured. + +“Well, there seemed nothing left to be done! I was in despair, and it +was only the day before yesterday that by--well, I suppose +old-fashioned folk like you would call it an intervention of +Providence, some astounding new evidence was produced. And what’s +more, I’ve been proved right!” + +And there was a tone of triumph in the, now low, organ-like voice. + +“D’you mean that what you half suspected was true all along, Joe?” + +She had turned her head round, and was gazing up into her husband’s +face. + +Rushworth saw the big man bend his head as jovially he exclaimed, +“Bedad! I think we’ve got her cold!” + +A tremor ran through the lady. “What a horrible expression,” she +murmured. + +“Still, so far there’s something lacking, me dear, and it’s causing me +a bit of anxiety.” + +“What’s that, Joe?” + +“Motive!” the man exclaimed, in a voice that had become suddenly +grave. And then he went on: “I don’t mind telling you that everything +fair and--well, a bit near the wind, also, was done to try and find +out if our lovely, clinging Ivy had another man in tow. She is a”--the +speaker sought for something in place of the Biblical word trembling +on his lips, but he gave it up, and said instead: + +“We heard that there was one chap who went about with her a good deal +last autumn, and who was far more often at Duke of Kent Mansion than +Gretorex ever was. But though we ran him to earth and gave him--at +least I hope so--a pretty bad quarter of an hour, it was clear that he +would never have married her, not if she had been a hundred times +free! Also, though he’s a gay bachelor, and manages to give his lady +friends a scrumptious time, he’s not a rich man, and our practical +little Ivy wants money, money, money all the time.” + +“Then what’s going to be done now? You don’t want your man, if he’s +really innocent, to languish in prison half his life,” observed the +little lady shrewdly. + +“I do not,” he answered, in his rich, Irish voice. “What’s more, I +want to shift that noose. Once we get her in the dock I’ll see there’s +no recommendation to mercy; trust me for that! The woman’s a +double-dyed murderess. She poisoned her husband, and she as good as +hanged her lover.” + +“You haven’t got her in the dock yet, and maybe you never will,” said +his wife calmly. + +“Hold on! Hold on! Did you ever see me miss a kill I’d set my heart +on? There’s another woman whose neck I’d like to wring--that of an old +charwoman, who, if she’d told the truth when Gretorex was first +arrested, might have made all the difference, for there would still +have been time, then, to find out something.” + +“Has that poor, pretty woman had a chance of saying anything for +herself?” asked his wife slowly. + +“That artful little Jezebel is staying with a woman friend in the +country at present, and the police are determined that everything is +to be O.K. this time. It’s for hell she’s making----” and he laughed a +jolly laugh. “Ivy’s held all the cards in her hand up to now, but +she’s going to lose the rubber.” + +“I do wonder, Joe, what her motive can have been--her husband had just +got a good job, hadn’t he?” + +For a few moments the speaker remained silent, then he said in a +singular voice: + +“If Gretorex had hanged this morning, I’d have betted a hundred to one +that within a year we should have seen, in all the papers, a paragraph +announcing that the beautiful Mrs. Lexton, whose husband had died in +such tragic circumstances, was about to be married very quietly to Mr. +Dash, a gentleman of great wealth and considerable position!” + +Rushworth moved slightly in his seat. He felt as if, within the last +few minutes, the whole world, his world, had stopped going round, and +that when it began again it would be in quite a different world that +he would find himself. + +“Then you think it will come out, now, that Mrs. Lexton was in love +with some man----?” + +“I don’t think anything of the kind! My view is that among the +innumerable young fools who have made love to her in the past year or +two, she marked down some rich man as a possible husband, _were she +only free_. One thing we learned only the other day. This was that two +or three years ago she did her best to persuade that rotter Jervis +Lexton to consent to an arranged divorce. He refused, unluckily for +himself, for, though he was a poor mutt, he adored his wife. She’s the +sort of woman over whom men go fantee----” + +“It’s unlucky that you can’t put a name to the happy man, Joe! Eh, my +dear?” + +“Unlucky? I should think it is unlucky! Still, someone’s been +supplying pretty Ivy with plenty of money during the last few weeks.” + +“It’s strange she wasn’t suspected.” + +“Of course she was! But not by the right people. My word, Eileen, she +is a clever little woman! You should have seen her in the witness-box! +Why, butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. But she overplayed her part. I +think a good many people found it difficult to believe that she’s been +what she made herself out to be--a kind of plaster saint.” + +“Is there any evidence to show that she was not that?” asked Lady +Molloy quietly. + +“There you go! Hate to believe anything of a certain sort about a +woman! You’re a regular suffragette. A cold-blooded poisoner, yes--but +naughty? Oh dear no, not that, _if_ you please.” + +Half to himself, he added, “She wrote Gretorex two letters the poor +chap’s servant got out of his paper-basket and pieced together. The +minute I’d read ’em I knew there’d be a reprieve!” + +“Why?” + +“Because Eddie Law is a highly moral man. He loathes the sins he’s not +inclined to.” Sir Joseph added candidly, “Most of us do, me dear.” + +As Rushworth walked down the gangway at Dover two or three of his +fellow-passengers nudged one another and smiled. They thought he was +“a sheet in the wind,” for he did not seem to know quite what he was +doing, or where he was going. + + +The moment Mr. Oram received the wire informing him that the execution +of Roger Gretorex had been postponed, he hurried back to London, full +of surprise and curiosity. + +What an amazing--he almost felt it to be, even now, an +unbelievable--story, was that told him with deferential clearness and +dryness by Alfred Finch. + +“God bless my soul!” he repeated at intervals. + +And then at last, with some magnanimity, he observed, “Then you were +right, Finch, and I wrong, all along. Though I thought her a vain +little fribble, murder is the last thing I’d have suspected that young +woman capable of.” + +“I didn’t suspect her either, sir. I was looking for a man--the +successor to Dr. Gretorex in the lady’s affections. The police believe +they’re on the track of what may be styled Mrs. Lexton’s motive. It’s +a man, right enough! Orpington wouldn’t tell me his name. He simply +said he was very rich, and seemingly infatuated with her.” + +He gave the old solicitor a rather odd look. But that gentleman did +not take up the challenge, though all Rushworth’s cables, both to Ivy +and to the lawyer himself, had been traced. And Mr. Oram had just +become aware of the fact. + +“Well--well--well----” + +“I suggest, sir, that you appeal to Sir Edward Law to consider the +release of Dr. Gretorex on licence. The letter which he wrote to Mrs. +Lexton--you have a copy of it here--which someone, I suspect one of +the maids at the flat, sent anonymously to the Home Secretary, though +one can’t exactly call it evidence, makes it clear to any impartial +mind that our man was absolutely innocent of the whole business. As +soon as she got busy, Mrs. Lexton wanted him out of the way. That’s as +plain as a pikestaff. After all, he is a doctor, and he might have +spoilt her game. Also he must have known, if he stopped to think a +bit, that she had had access to the poison.” + +“More fool he to go to the flat on that last day,” said Mr. Oram +crustily. + +It was that fact which, as soon as he had learnt it, had seemed to fix +the guilt definitely on Gretorex. + +“He was dotty about her! When a chap’s in that peculiar condition, +sir, it’s as if he can’t keep away,” murmured Mr. Finch. + +And then, it might have seemed irrelevantly, he observed: “Mr. +Rushworth will be back in London in a day or two. Earlier, if he +travels overland from Marseilles.” + + +But even Alfred Finch felt a thrill of surprise when that same +afternoon he was told that Mr. Rushworth was closeted with Mr. Oram. +Indeed, he made a quick mental calculation. Either this must mean that +their important client had come to Mr. Oram’s office straight from +Victoria Station, or that he had flown from Paris. + +Mr. Finch would have given a good deal to have been present at the +interview which was taking place within a few yards of where he was +working on a tiresome right-of-way case. + +Mr. Oram’s head clerk had never much liked Miles Rushworth, and he +could not help smiling to himself, as he considered the very awkward +position in which that gentleman would find himself, if he was called +as a witness for the Crown, as he most certainly would be if Mrs. +Lexton were ever put on trial for the murder of her husband. + +Alfred Finch knew that something of a most incriminating nature had +been found in Ivy’s bedroom, when the flat in Duke of Kent Mansion had +been searched yesterday. He thought it probable that this consisted of +a series of letters between Mrs. Lexton and Miles Rushworth. Even a +man of huge wealth does not give something for nothing to an +attractive woman. + +Lawyers are apt to overlook the exception which proves the rule in +life. + +Had Mr. Finch been able to look through a blank wall, he would have +seen Mr. Oram sitting at his writing-table, and looking across it +straight at Miles Rushworth. And could he have heard what was being +said, he would have realised that his employer was speaking in a tone +that was, for him, oddly hesitant and uneasy. + +“I’m sorry to say, Rushworth, that I’ve no doubt at all but that +there’s been a terrible miscarriage of justice. I take it that you +knew comparatively little of Mrs. Jervis Lexton, even though her +husband was in your employment?” + +Miles Rushworth made a conscious effort to appear calm and +unconcerned. But he failed in that endeavour, and was aware that he +failed. + +“I knew them both fairly well,” he answered at last. + +Mr. Oram began playing with a paper knife. He was wondering how much +the man who sat there, with overcast face, and anxious, frowning eyes, +was concerned with this horrid business. + +“What’s going to be the next move, Oram? I take it that you’ve been +informed?” + +“Well, yes, I have been informed, though quite unofficially. +The--ahem! authorities are very naturally perturbed. An innocent man +was very nearly hanged. It was, in fact, a matter of hours----” + +Should he tell this old friend and client the truth? All his life long +John Oram had cultivated caution, and technically he was now bound to +silence. But he made up his mind that he owed the truth to Rushworth. +Even now the solicitor had no suspicion of how really close had been +the relations between the woman he now believed to have been a +cold-blooded murderess, and this man whom she had so completely +deceived. He was aware of how carelessly generous Rushworth could be +and often was. + +Still, a glance at his client’s face, now filled with a painful +expression of suspense and acute anxiety, showed that this matter was +of great moment to him. + +“Mrs. Lexton,” he said in a low voice, “is going to be arrested, I +understand, this evening, or to-morrow morning. The Criminal +Investigation Department of Scotland Yard are completing what they +consider a very strong chain of evidence against her. I have here +copies of three letters which have come into their possession. You had +better glance over them, Rushworth.” + +He got up and, leaning across his table, handed a number of +typewritten sheets to his client. + +How strange looked those burning words of love and longing, +transcribed on a bad old typewriting machine! But the man now reading +them could visualise Ivy’s pretty flowing handwriting, and, as he read +on, he turned hot and cold. + +Then he started on Gretorex’s letter; the letter acquiescing in Ivy’s +decision that there should be a break between them. + +“That was written,” observed the solicitor, “after Lexton’s mysterious +illness was well started. I think you will agree that it is the letter +of a man who was certainly unaware of what was going on?” + +He waited a moment, then he added: “They’ve unluckily traced all your +cables to the lady, Rushworth, as well as yours to me. I fear that you +are certain to be called as leading witness for the Crown, if Mrs. +Lexton is sent for trial, as seems now inevitable.” + +“That would be monstrous! What is my connection with this case?” +exclaimed Rushworth. “Surely I had the right to give all the help in +my power to the wife of one of my own people?” + +“They will call you in order to prove that Mrs. Lexton had a strong +motive for wishing to get her husband out of the way,” returned Mr. +Oram in a doleful tone. “I hope you refrained from writing to her? If +you did, I trust she had the sense to destroy your letters.” + +“It is this man Gretorex, if, as you seem to think, he is entirely +innocent, who should be called, not I,” said Rushworth in a hard +voice. + +“Roger Gretorex will certainly refuse to give evidence against her. +They’ll try to make him. But they’ll fail. He worshipped Ivy Lexton, +and I fear he still loves her.” + +Then the old man sighed. “It’s an awful story, Rushworth,” he +observed, “however you look at it.” + +The other threw the typewritten sheets of paper back on the table. He +rose, and rather blindly he felt for, and found, his hat and stick. + +“I must be going now,” he said shortly. “If I’m wanted, you know where +to find me, Oram.” + +He felt humiliated to the depths of his being. His passion for Ivy +Lexton had turned to bitter hatred. Yet he knew that their fates were +linked together, and that through what had been his mad infatuation +for this woman, a name which was known and honoured all over the +world, was not only going to become a laughingstock, but also to be +smirched and befouled for ever. + +As he went down the fine staircase of the old house, he exclaimed +wordlessly, “By God, that shall not be!” + +He waited a moment in the hall, and in that moment he thought of a way +out. + +It was a way made possible by the fact that an unpleasant experience +at the beginning of August, 1914, had taught him the value of gold. +Since the Saturday which had preceded the outbreak of war, he had +always kept a thousand pounds in gold, and a thousand pounds in Bank +of England ten-pound notes, in the private safe of his London office. + +He walked quickly to the corner of a quiet street where he had left +his car, and threw the chauffeur the address. + +Then he looked at his watch. If what old Oram had said was true with +regard to the probable arrest of Ivy Lexton, there was just time to +accomplish that which he had planned to do in what had seemed but one +flashing second. + +“Stop at the nearest telephone box,” he called out. And the chauffeur +drew up at a tube station. + +Rushworth was in the telephone box for a long time, for he had to a +certain extent to speak in parables. But the young man whom he had +called up, and had had the good fortune to find at home, at last +understood exactly what was wanted of him. He was an airman to whom +Rushworth had once been magnificently generous. + +“Right-ho!” came the young voice down the line. “I’ll be quite ready. +I understand you want me to take my wife, too, and that you’ll motor +her down here from town. Her passport’s always O.K. You can trust me. +Afraid? Not much!” + +Rushworth’s face looked strained and white as he came out of the +telephone box. + +He was well aware that he was inciting that lad to do, from pure +gratitude, a very wrong thing. Well? If it “didn’t come off,” he, +Rushworth, would take all the blame, of course. But he felt pretty +sure that the plan he had made would succeed, for it had the two +essential qualities which spell success. His plan was bold and his +plan was simple. + +True, he wondered uncomfortably if the police had traced that last +wire of his from Paris. He was glad indeed that Ivy had had the wit to +telegraph her country address. And then, as he evoked her lovely face, +her beckoning eyes, his own darkened, and filled with wrath and pain. + +He did not go himself into his London office. Instead he sent in his +chauffeur, with the key of his private safe, and armed with minute +instructions as to what he was to take out of it. + +Then, when the man had brought him the heavy little canvas bag, and +the envelope containing a hundred ten-pound notes, he threw him the +address of some lodgings in a quiet street off Piccadilly, where he +knew Lady Dale and her daughter were staying just now. His sister had +made him promise that he would see Bella the moment he reached London, +and he was fulfilling that promise. + +When he was told that her ladyship was out, but that Miss Dale was in, +and alone, he suddenly felt as if his luck was holding, after all! + + +Ivy had insisted on coming back to London before luncheon. + +Not only was her mind now full of vague, unsubstantial fears, but she +was aware that Miles Rushworth would call at her flat some time this +evening. That, indeed, was a fact to which she clung and constantly +returned with a feeling of reassurance and hope. Even so she had not +allowed Lady Flora to telephone the fact that she was returning +unexpectedly to the flat. She felt, somehow, that she wanted no one to +know about her movements just now. She was beginning to feel that most +terrifying of sensations--that of being hunted. + +Even when settled comfortably, and alone, in a first-class carriage of +the train taking her to town, she found she could not rest, and she +actually got up and began moving about. + +It was such an awful sensation--that of feeling that human hounds +might be hot on her scent.… + +She had bought her favourite picture paper at the station, and then +she had had a shock, for a large photograph of Roger had confronted +her on the front page. + +Underneath the picture ran a long paragraph, stating that Dr. +Gretorex, who was to have been hanged this morning for the murder of +Jervis Lexton, had had his execution postponed on the very eve of its +being carried out. Such a thing had not taken place in England for +close on eighty years. But important new evidence had been placed +before the Home Secretary at the eleventh hour.… + +“New Evidence”--Ivy turned those two ominous words over and over +again, in her troubled, anxious mind. They now forced her to do what +she had believed she would never, never have to do--live over again, +in imagination, a certain fortnight of her life, the first fortnight +of last November.… + +She found herself imagining, suspecting, wild, crazy things. For +instance, the existence of minute peepholes in the ceilings of certain +rooms in the flat? Even that seemed more likely than that Roger +Gretorex should have “given her away” with regard to the fact that she +had been once left alone by him with a jar of arsenic on the table of +his surgery. + +Besides, even if he had done such a cruel, despicable thing, what he +had it in his power to reveal _proved_ nothing, and could prove +nothing. She knew herself to have been not only very clever, but also +very very careful. + +And yet, as the train sped nearer and nearer to London, she became +more and more afraid. + +The old cook was quite pleased to see “the missus,” and volubly she +described the visit of Inspector Orpington and of his sergeant. + +“No, they didn’t find nothing. How could they--when there was nothing +there?” + +This Ivy believed to be nothing but the truth, and yet the fact that +the two men from Scotland Yard had come to search the flat, filled her +with a terrible foreboding. + +And then, suddenly, she remembered Mrs. Huntley! With a sensation of +sick fear she recalled how Gretorex’s servant had surprised her on +what she now perceived to have been the most dangerous day of her +life. + +Vile, wicked, cruel old woman! However, she, Ivy, had already replaced +the cap on the jar labelled “Arsenic” when Mrs. Huntley had crept into +the surgery so slyly and softly behind her. But the jar had been +there, on the table before her, and no doubt the old fox had noticed +it. + +Yes! It was probably some sort of gossip traced to Gretorex’s +day-servant which had been the cause both of the reprieve, and of the +presence yesterday of the Scotland Yard inspector here, in the flat. +But, thank God, there was nothing--nothing--_nothing_ that could be +found, and for the best of reasons, that there was nothing to find. + +Even so, all this was very frightening, as well as very annoying, if +only because it meant new trouble and worry, just at a time when she, +Ivy, would be wanting to pick up the old, and create the new, links, +between herself and Rushworth. + +She went into her bedroom feeling a little reassured. It is always +better to know the worst, and Ivy Lexton thought she did know the +worst now. And it was not so bad as she had feared. + +Already she was mentally preparing the tale she would tell. And it ran +somewhat like this: She had gone just for a moment to see Gretorex on +the evening Mrs. Huntley had seen her in the surgery, with a message +from Jervis, who was waiting for her hard by Ferry Place in a taxi. +They two were on their way to a dance, and Jervis had suggested that +Gretorex should come with them. But the fact had made so little +impression on her mind that she had forgotten all about it, when asked +if she had ever been to Ferry Place alone. If Mrs. Huntley mentioned +the supper, she would simply deny that she had been the lady +entertained by Gretorex. Mrs. Huntley had not actually seen her with +her host. She had only seen her for that moment or two in the surgery. + +But, even so, Ivy’s nerves were so far upset that she made an +involuntary and violent movement of recoil, when she heard a sudden +loud knock on the front door of the flat. + +There followed a moment of delay, and then she heard the cook waddling +down the passage. She told herself that it was probably Inspector +Orpington, and she mentally prepared her story, the explanation, that +is, of that unfortunate encounter with Mrs. Huntley. + +And then her heart leapt with joy in her bosom, for, “Is Mrs. Lexton +at home?” was uttered in Miles Rushworth’s voice. + +“I don’t know that Mrs. Lexton can see you, sir.” + +“I think she’ll see me. Will you kindly say Mr. Rushworth has called +to see her?” + +Ivy heard him go into the drawing-room, and, after a few moments spent +before her dressing-table in making up her face, she followed him. + +Miles Rushworth was standing in the centre of the room, and when the +door opened, and Ivy came through it, she looked so innocent and so +appealing, as she advanced towards him in her plain black dress, that +suddenly he felt as if all that had happened to-day had been only an +evil dream. Almost he held out his arms. + +And then he took a step backwards, for alas! he knew all that had +happened to-day was no dream, but stark reality. + +In silence she held out her hand, and perforce he took it in his, for +a moment. + +“I felt so sad, even in the midst of my own troubles, when I heard +about your sister,” she murmured. + +“Don’t speak of her!” he exclaimed violently. And involuntarily she +shrank back. + +She had put down that terrible, stern, sorrow-laden expression on his +face to grief for his sister. But all at once she saw that he was +gazing at her with an alien look--the look of a stern judge--on his +sunburnt face. + +What had he heard? What did he know? As she met that awful, accusing +shaft of contempt, and yes, of loathing, a sensation of icy despair +began slowly to envelop her. + +“Do you remember Bella Dale?” he asked suddenly. + +She answered in a faltering voice, “The girl on the yacht? Of course I +do.” + +“She was my sister’s dearest friend,” his voice sank. More strongly he +said, “I went to see her this morning, and--and now we are engaged.” + +And then he could not but admire her, for Ivy threw back her head, and +in a hard, clear tone she exclaimed: + +“I wish you joy, Mr. Rushworth! Also I do want to thank you from the +bottom of my heart, for all you have done for me.” + +She knew now why he looked “like that.” He was ashamed, and well he +might be. + +Quickly she told herself that he wasn’t married yet. The fact that he +was so moved showed the power she had over him. It had been foolish of +her to suppose, as she had done for a moment, that he had heard +something to her disadvantage--why, there hadn’t been time! + +But what was this he was saying? + +“I’m the bearer of bad news, Mrs. Lexton.” + +His voice had become almost inaudible. She moved, timorously, a little +nearer to him. + +“Bad news?” she echoed uncertainly, and once more terror filled her +burdened, fluttering heart. + +“You are to be arrested to-morrow morning on the charge of having +caused the death of your husband by poison. The police claim to +possess ample evidence to ensure a conviction; so you are in frightful +danger.” + +Arrested? In one fleeting moment she saw herself a prisoner in the +dock where Roger Gretorex had stood. She visualised the Judge, the +jury, the lawyers in the well of the Court, even the pitiless crowd of +sightseers. The lifting of the black cap on to the Judge’s wig--his +awful words of admonition--the condemned cell… the gallows.… + +She who now had always fainted so easily, why did she not faint now? +Because she was tasting the bitterness of death. + +Yet she made no sign, though she was staring at Rushworth with dilated +eyes. But for those large, terror-filled eyes, he would have thought +that she had not understood the purport of his awful revelation of +what now awaited her. And something like a spasm of pity shook him to +the depths of his being. + +“I think, nay, I’m sure, I can save you,” he exclaimed confidently. + +Then he went on, speaking in low, quick tones: “I’ve arranged with a +friend of mine who has got an aëroplane--you remember Jack Quirk, on +the yacht?--to take you by air now, at once, to-day, to Spain. You +will travel as his wife, on her passport. I’ve brought you a thousand +pounds in gold, and another thousand in notes. From Spain you ought to +be able to get a passage to South America without too much trouble. +Quirk will arrange it all for you, and he will give you an address, +where, if in need of help, you can write to me, once you are safe, +far, far away.” + +His voice broke. He was remembering a moment--an immortal moment--in +their joint lives, when Ivy had certainly loved him, in her fashion. + +He saw her lips, which were quivering under the dab of lipstick rouge, +try to form the words, “Thank you.” + +“I’m afraid there’s no time to be lost. We’d better not be seen +leaving the flat together. I’ll say good-bye to you in the hall, and +you’d better follow in about five minutes. My car is in Palace Row. +_Don’t bring anything with you._ The front door may be watched, but I +think not, as you are believed to be in the country.” + + + + + Epilogue + +For the first few moments, spent alone by her in her bedroom, Ivy +could only feel relief--sheer, sobbing relief. + +Then there came over her a sensation of utter, numb despair. + +She had lost everything that makes life worth the living to such as +she… + +But there was no time left her, now, to remember the past, or dread +the future. She must hurry--hurry. + +So it was that, in less than five minutes after Rushworth had left +her, she was standing outside the flat, clad in a small pull-on black +hat and a big fur coat. + +The lift came up, and then, just as she was going to step into it, she +remembered suddenly the bolster bag Rushworth had bought for her at +Dieppe. On the morning of Jervis’s death she had shaken out of the +inner _pochette_ the two or three pinches of--of “stuff” which +remained in it, into the fire, and then, hardly knowing what she was +doing, she had put it back in the red despatch-box. It would be all +right, there, till she went out of her widow’s mourning. + +She couldn’t leave _that_ behind. Why it was worth a lot of money! +Besides, she would give up wearing black as soon as she reached the +place of safety Rushworth had promised her. + +“Wait a minute,” she said to the porter. “I’ve forgotten something. I +won’t be a second!” + +She put her key in the lock, and rushed back to her bedroom. + +Meanwhile there began an insistent ringing for the lift from the +bottom of the shaft, in the hall of the Mansion. + +The porter knew pretty Mrs. Lexton’s ways. He felt sure that when she +had said: “I won’t be a second!” she meant probably five minutes, +maybe even longer than that, especially if she had forgotten +something. + +The bell was ringing continuously now, and with a shock the man +remembered that the agent for Duke of Kent Mansion was coming to see a +leak in the roof this very afternoon. + +Quickly he pulled the cable, and the lift slid down. + +Meanwhile Ivy had run back into her bedroom, turning up the electric +light as she walked through the door. Quickly she took the three keys +she always carried about with her in her embroidered black vanité +case, and, unlocking the half of the great cupboard, she seized the +despatch-box. + +The lid fell back the wrong side, queerly. Someone failing to force +the lock had prized open the hinges, and the bag with its beautiful +emerald and pearl clasp was gone--gone! + +She threw a wild look round her. What could she take with her? Then +she remembered what Rushworth had said. No, she mustn’t take anything. +Nothing, apart from that little bolster bag, was of any real value.… +She turned out the light, and, running blindly through the dark hall, +opened the front door of the flat. She hadn’t been more than two or +three minutes, after all. + +She was trembling now; she felt strung-up and terrified, hardly +conscious of what she was doing. + +She opened wide the lift gates. They were already ajar, and then--her +little feet stepped through into the void. + +The man below heard a terrible scream, followed by an awful thud, +thud, on the iron top of the lift. + +And, at once, with a fearful sensation of dismay, he knew what he had +done. He had omitted to shut the gates for the first time since he had +been on this job. + +For one thing, apart altogether from that little matter of the agent’s +visit, he, too, was excited--he, too, had been wondering what was +going to happen. Everyone in Duke of Kent Mansion had been thrilled by +the news of the reprieve. And, in his excitement at seeing the heroine +of the Lexton Mystery, and in his certainty that he would be up again +in less than a minute, he had left the lift gates ajar. + +In one rushing moment, while on his way to the house-telephone to ring +up the engineer, he visualised with dreadful clearness the Coroner’s +court, the censure passed on him by the jury, his dismissal from this +good situation, and the consequent angry despair of his wife. + +Poor, pretty, pleasant-spoken “Ivy,” as he, in the company of +thousands of other men of all ages, conditions, and kinds, had fallen +into the way of secretly calling her--she had brought bad luck on +everybody who came in touch with her. Well! Now she wouldn’t be able +to harm anybody, man or woman, any more. + + THE END + + + + + TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES + +Minor spelling inconsistencies (e.g., dovelike/dove-like, night +club/night-club, etc.) have been preserved. + +Alterations to the text: + +Add ToC. + +Punctuation: fix some quotation mark pairings/nestings, and some +missing periods. + +[Chapter Two] + +Change “little woman now _sittinng_ so close to him” to _sitting_. + +“She had further _confesed_ that now they were really” to _confessed_. + +“a keen appreciation of all that makes _civilsed_ life decorous” to +_civilised_. + +[Chapter Eight] + +(And yet the fact that she was now a widow would certainly _made_ +Roger “tiresome.”) to _make_. + +“come over her a most unexpected sensation of _lonelines_” to +_loneliness_. + +[Chapter Ten] + +“you were dismayed by the _charge_ in his appearance” to _change_. + +[Chapter Thirteen] + +(He had _know_ “Mr. Roger” from childhood.) to _known_. + +(“I have no legal adviser.” and she looked at him surprised) change +the period to a comma. + +[Chapter Seventeen] + +“those sort of people stop short at murder. believe me” change the +period to a comma. + +[Chapter Eighteen] + +(“There’s a young lady to see you in the drawing-room. ma’am,”) change +the period to a comma. + +[Chapter Nineteen] + +“_Mrs._ Finch said something which surprised Enid Dent” to _Mr._ + +[Chapter Twenty] + +“that these various documents provide _sufficent_ reason for” to +_sufficient_. + + [End of text] + + + + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79259 *** diff --git a/79259-h/79259-h.htm b/79259-h/79259-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6967ed0 --- /dev/null +++ b/79259-h/79259-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,16017 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + The story of Ivy | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +/* Headers and Divisions */ + h1, h2, h3, h4 {margin:4em 0em 1em 0em; page-break-before:always; text-align:center;} + +/* General */ + + body {margin:0% 5% 0% 5%;} + + p {margin:0em 0em 0em 0em; text-align:justify; text-indent:1em;} + .center {margin:0em 0em 0em 0em; text-align:center; text-indent:0em;} + .noindent {text-indent:0em;} + + .toc_l {font-variant:small-caps; margin:0em 0em 0em 2em; text-indent:-2em;} + + .rt1 {margin:0em 1em 0em 0em; text-align:right; text-indent:0em;} + + .sc {font-variant:small-caps;} + +/* special formatting */ + + .stanza {margin:1em 0em 0em 0em; text-indent:0em;} + .i0 {display:inline-block; margin:0em 0em 0em 2em; text-indent:-2em;} + + blockquote {margin:1em 2em 1em 2em;} + + .mt1 {margin-top:1em;} + .mt4 {margin-top:4em;} + +</style> +</head> + +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79259 ***</div> + + +<h1> +THE STORY OF IVY +</h1> + +<p class="center"> +By<br> +MARIE BELLOC LOWNDES +</p> + +<p class="center mt4"> +SOMERSET BOOKS, INC.<br> +NEW YORK +</p> + + +<h2> +[COPYRIGHT] +</h2> + +<p class="center"> +COPYRIGHT, 1927, BY DOUBLEDAY, DORAN &<br> +COMPANY, INC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.<br> +PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES. +</p> + + +<h2> +Contents +</h2> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#prologue">Prologue</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch01">Chapter One</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch02">Chapter Two</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch03">Chapter Three</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch04">Chapter Four</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch05">Chapter Five</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch06">Chapter Six</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch07">Chapter Seven</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch08">Chapter Eight</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch09">Chapter Nine</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch10">Chapter Ten</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch11">Chapter Eleven</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch12">Chapter Twelve</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch13">Chapter Thirteen</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch14">Chapter Fourteen</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch15">Chapter Fifteen</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch16">Chapter Sixteen</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch17">Chapter Seventeen</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch18">Chapter Eighteen</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch19">Chapter Nineteen</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch20">Chapter Twenty</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch21">Chapter Twenty-one</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#ch22">Chapter Twenty-two</a> +</p> + +<p class="toc_l"> +<a href="#epilogue">Epilogue</a> +</p> + + +<h2 id="prologue"> +Prologue +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">Tell me something</span> about the Lextons, Mary. Where did you pick them +up?” asked Lady Flora Desmond of her hostess, Mrs. Hampton. “As I +looked at Mrs. Lexton during dinner, I thought I had never seen a +prettier face. When I was a child, your little friend would have been +what people then called a professional beauty.” +</p> + +<p> +“She certainly is very pretty, and a regular honey-pot! Look at her +now, with Miles Rushworth?” +</p> + +<p> +The speaker nodded towards the wide-open French window of the +high-ceilinged, oval eighteenth-century sitting-room. She and two +other women were sitting there together after dinner, on the Saturday +evening of what Mrs. Hampton thought promised to be a very successful +week-end party. +</p> + +<p> +The window gave access to a broad stone terrace. Beyond the terrace +lay a wide lawn, bathed in bright moonlight, and across the lawn +sauntered very slowly two figures, that of a tall man, and that of a +slender woman dressed in a light-coloured frock. They were moving away +from the beautiful old country-house where they were both staying as +guests, making for an avenue of beeches. +</p> + +<p> +Mary Hampton went on, speaking not unkindly, but with a certain +tartness: “He took her out in his motor after tea, so she might have +left him alone after dinner.” +</p> + +<p> +“You oughtn’t to complain, my dear! You told me this morning that you +had asked the Lextons this week-end so that they could make friends +with your millionaire,” observed Joan Rodney. +</p> + +<p> +She was a sharp-tongued, clever spinster who enjoyed putting her +friends right, and telling them home truths. Much was forgiven to Miss +Rodney because she was, if sharp-tongued, fundamentally kind-hearted. +</p> + +<p> +“My millionaire, as you call him, is one of the finest amateur +billiard-players in England. I made Jack get hold of the best of the +young ‘pros.’ He could only spare us this evening, and now that all +the men, and two of the women, are either playing or watching the play +in the billiard-room, Miles is philandering with Ivy Lexton in the +garden!” +</p> + +<p> +“Not philandering, Mary,” observed Lady Flora, smiling. “Mr. Rushworth +never philanders.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well! You know what I mean. It’s my fault, of course. I ought to have +known that no party would be big enough to hold Ivy Lexton and another +attraction. Last time she was here she snatched such a nice boy from +his best girl, and stopped, I’m afraid, a proposal.” +</p> + +<p> +Lady Flora looked sorry. A plain woman herself, she admired, without a +touch of envy, physical beauty more than she admired anything else in +the world. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t suppose Mrs. Lexton can help attracting men. It’s human +nature after all——” +</p> + +<p> +Quoted Joan Rodney, with a sharp edge to her voice: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“It’s human nature but, if so, oh!</span><br> +<span class="i0">Isn’t human nature low?”</span> +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +“Little Ivy isn’t exactly low; at least I hope not,” observed little +Ivy’s hostess reflectively. “But I do feel that there’s a curiously +soulless quality about her. Though she’s not what people call clever, +there’s something baffling about Ivy Lexton. I liked her much better +when I first knew her.” +</p> + +<p> +“She mayn’t be what silly people call clever, but she’s plenty of what +used to be called ‘nous,’ ” said Miss Rodney drily. “She engineered her +stroll with Mr. Rushworth very cleverly to-night. Your husband was +determined to get him into the billiard-room——” +</p> + +<p> +“She had a good excuse for that, Joan. As I told you yesterday, Jervis +Lexton has been looking out for something to do for a long while.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Hampton turned to her other friend. “It suddenly occurred to me, +Flora, that Miles Rushworth, who must have many jobs in his gift, +might find Jervis Lexton something to do. Ivy knows that I asked them +both for this week-end on purpose that they might meet him. It isn’t +easy to get hold of him for this kind of party.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you known the Lextons long, Mary?” asked Lady Flora. +</p> + +<p> +She felt genuinely interested in Mrs. Jervis Lexton. The quiet, +old-fashioned, some would have said very limited, middle-aged widow, +and lovely, restless, self-absorbed, and very modern Ivy Lexton, had +“made friends.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have known Jervis ever since he was born. His father was a friend +of my father’s. But I had not seen him for years till I ran across +him, in town, about three months ago. The last time I had seen him was +early in the war, when his father had just died, and he had been given +a fortnight’s leave. He’s what Jack calls quite a good sort; but it’s +bad for a young man to become his own master at twenty. He seems to +have married this lovely little thing when he was twenty-two. That’s +six years ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“They seem to get on very well,” observed Lady Flora. +</p> + +<p> +“I think they do, though I’m afraid they’ve muddled away most of his +money in having what Ivy considers a good time. He must have come into +a fair fortune, for his father had sold their place just before the +war.” +</p> + +<p> +“What fools young people seem to be to-day—I mean compared to the old +days!” exclaimed Joan Rodney harshly. +</p> + +<p> +She went on: “John Oram—you know, Mary, the big solicitor—once told +me that of ten men who sell their land at any given time, only two +have anything of the purchase-price left at the end of ten years.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jervis Lexton won’t be one of those two men,” said his hostess +regretfully. “Ivy told me to-day that they’re fearfully hard up.” +</p> + +<p> +“People often say that when it is laughably untrue! It’s the fashion +to pretend one’s poor. Mrs. Lexton dresses beautifully. She must spend +a great deal of money on her clothes,” interjected Joan Rodney. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid there was no pretence about what Ivy told me this morning. +She looked really worried, poor little thing! I do hope she will get +something good for Jervis out of Miles Rushworth.” +</p> + +<p> +“She makes most of her frocks herself; it’s so easy nowadays,” said +Lady Flora. And then she added: “She was telling me to-day about her +girlhood. Her father failed in business, through no fault of his own, +and for a little while she was on the stage——” +</p> + +<p> +“Only a walking-on part in a musical comedy,” observed Joan Rodney, +“if what her husband, who strikes me as an honest young fellow, told +me is true. However, I’m surprised, even so, that she didn’t do better +for herself in what I have heard described as the straight road to the +peeresses’ gallery, to say nothing of ‘another place.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +“Joan! Joan!” cried Mrs. Hampton deprecatingly. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Rodney got up and came across to where her hostess sat under a +heavily-shaded lamp. +</p> + +<p> +She put her left elbow on the marble mantelpiece, and looking down +into the other’s now upturned face, “I don’t like your little friend,” +she said deliberately. “I’ve been studying her closely ever since she +arrived on Thursday afternoon, though she didn’t seem aware of my +existence till after lunch to-day. When I was in America last year, +they’d invented a name for that sort of young woman. She’s out, all +the time, for what she can get. ‘A gold-digger’—that’s the slang +American term for that kind of young person, Mary. I know what I’m +talking about.” +</p> + +<p> +“How can you possibly know?” +</p> + +<p> +“By instinct, my dear! If I were you I should give pretty Mrs. Lexton +a very wide berth.” +</p> + +<p> +And then, rather to the relief of the other two, she exclaimed, +“Having done what’s always foolish—that is, said exactly what I +think—I’m off to watch the champion billiard-player.” +</p> + +<p> +After she had left the room, Mrs. Hampton said slowly, “It’s sad to +hear a good woman, for Joan is really a good woman, say such cruel, +unkind things.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s odd, too, for no one can show more real understanding sympathy +when one’s in trouble,” answered Lady Flora in a low voice. She was +remembering a time of frightful sorrow in her own life, when Joan +Rodney had been one of the few friends whose presence had not jarred +on her. +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, well! She’s devoted to you. Also, you’re an angel, Flora, so +there’s no great merit in being kind to you. What Joan Rodney can’t +forgive in another woman is youth, happiness——” +</p> + +<p> +“And, I suppose, beauty,” interjected Lady Flora. “Yet to me there is +something so disarming, so pathetic, about Mrs. Lexton.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then Joan has such a poor opinion of human nature,” went on Mrs. +Hampton in a vexed tone. “You heard with what delight she quoted that +horrid little bit of doggerel. Still, quite between ourselves, Flora, +I must admit that, in a sense, she is more right than she knows about +Ivy Lexton.” +</p> + +<p> +Lady Flora looked dismayed. “In what way, Mary?” +</p> + +<p> +“Ivy is very fond of money, or rather of spending it. In fact she is +idiotically extravagant. She is dancing mad, and belongs to the two +most expensive night clubs in town. It’s her fault that they’ve +frittered away a lot of Jervis Lexton’s capital. Also, there’s a side +to her, for all her pretty manners, that isn’t pretty at all.” +</p> + +<p> +“How d’you mean?” and the other looked puzzled. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Hampton hesitated. Then she smiled a little ruefully. “My maid +told me that when Ivy arrived she was quite rude to Annie—you know, +my nice old housemaid?—because there was no bottle of scent on her +dressing-table! There was one, it seems, last time she was here. It +had been left by some visitor—I don’t undertake to provide such +luxuries.” +</p> + +<p> +“That doesn’t sound very nice, certainly,” Lady Flora looked naïvely +surprised. +</p> + +<p> +“Then, if I’m to be really honest, my dear, there’s no doubt that one +reason why Joan Rodney has taken such a ferocious dislike to Ivy +Lexton is owing to the fact that I stupidly told Ivy this morning of +Joan’s marvellous bit of luck—I mean of that big legacy from the +American cousin. I’m afraid that’s why Ivy, who behaved all yesterday +as if Joan hardly existed, began at once to make up to her! But pretty +ways are very much lost on our Joan.” +</p> + +<p> +She began to laugh. She really couldn’t help it, remembering the way +her friend had received the younger woman’s overtures of friendship. +</p> + +<p> +Lady Flora looked disturbed, for she was one of those rare human +beings to whom it is a pain to think ill of anybody. +</p> + +<p> +“After all, Joan’s money is of no good to anyone but herself, Mary? I +don’t see why you should suppose poor little Mrs. Lexton made up to +her because of that legacy.” +</p> + +<p> +The other looked at her fixedly. +</p> + +<p> +“Ivy Lexton has a good deal in common with the heroine of Jack’s +favourite drawing-room story.” +</p> + +<p> +“What story?” asked Lady Flora. Her host’s rather sly sense of humour +had never appealed to her, though they were quite good friends. +</p> + +<p> +“The story of the lady who said to her husband, ‘Oh, do let’s go and +see them; they’re so rich!’ to be met with the answer, ‘My dear, I +would if it was catching!’ ” +</p> + +<p> +Lady Flora looked a little puzzled. “He was quite right. Money is not +catching, though I suppose most people wish it were.” +</p> + +<p> +“A great many people are convinced that it is, Flora, and our little +Ivy is among them. I’m sure she feels that if she rubs herself up +against it close enough, a little will certainly come off. And I’m not +sure, in her case, that she’s not right!” +</p> + +<p> +But Lady Flora could be obstinate in her mild way. +</p> + +<p> +“I like Mrs. Lexton,” she said gently. “I’m going to call on her when +we’re all in town again. She’s promised to take me to a nice quiet +night club. I’ve always longed to see one. I want my sister-in-law, I +mean Jenny, to know her. Jenny loves young people. She gives amusing +little dances——” +</p> + +<p> +“I think you’ll make a mistake if you introduce Ivy to the Duchess.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see why, my dear? After all, Mary, your little friend has +been very sweet to me, and that though she knows I’m really poor.” +</p> + +<p> +The other woman gave a quick look at her friend. Sometimes she thought +Flora Desmond too good, too simple, even for human nature’s daily +food. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch01"> +Chapter One +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The July sun</span> shone slantwise into the ugly, almost sordid-looking +bedroom where Ivy Lexton, still only half dressed, had just begun +making up her lovely face in front of a tarnished, dust-powdered +toilet-glass. +</p> + +<p> +It was nine o’clock in the morning; an hour ago she had had her cup of +tea and—mindful of her figure—the hard biscuit which was the only +thing she allowed herself by way of breakfast. Her husband, hopelessly +idle, easy-natured, well-bred Jervis Lexton, was still fast asleep in +the little back bedroom his wife called his dressing-room, but which +was their box-room and general “glory-hole.” +</p> + +<p> +Everything that had been of any real value there had gradually +disappeared in the last few weeks, for Ivy and Jervis Lexton, to use +their own rueful expression, were indeed stony-broke. +</p> + +<p> +Yet they had started their married life, six years before, with a +capital of sixty-eight thousand pounds. Now they were almost +penniless. Indeed, what Ivy called to herself with greater truth than +was usual “her little all,” that is, a pound note, and twelve +shillings and sixpence in silver, lay on the stained, discoloured +mahogany dressing-table before which she was now standing. +</p> + +<p> +How amazed would her still large circle of friends and acquaintances +have been had they learnt how desperate and how hopeless was her own +and her husband’s financial position. Yesterday she had even tried to +sell two charming frocks brought back for her by a good-natured friend +from Paris. But she had only been offered a few shillings for the two, +so she had brought them home again. +</p> + +<p> +And now, as her eyes fell on the pound note and tiny heap of silver, +they filled with angry tears. How she loathed these sordid, hateful +lodgings! What a terrible, even a terrifying thing, it was to have +fallen so low as to have to live here, in two shabby, ill-kept +bedrooms, where there wasn’t even a hanging cupboard for her pretty +clothes, and where the drawers of the painted deal chest of drawers +would neither shut nor open. +</p> + +<p> +The Lextons had come there for two reasons. One, a stupid reason, +because their landlady was the widow of a man who had been employed as +a lad in the stables of Jervis Lexton’s father. A better reason was +that, owing to there being no bathroom in the house, the rooms were +amazingly, fantastically cheap. The Lextons had already been camping +here, as Ivy’s husband put it, for some months, but they rarely gave +any of their friends their address. Jervis still belonged to a famous +club to which some of his rich men acquaintances would have given much +to belong; and Ivy had a guinea subscription to a small bridge club +from which her letters were forwarded each day. +</p> + +<p> +There came a knock at the bedroom door. It was a funny, fumbling +knock, and she knew it for that of the landlady’s little boy. +</p> + +<p> +Flinging a pale pink lace-trimmed wrapper round her, “Come in,” she +called out sharply. +</p> + +<p> +The child came in, holding in his grubby hand two letters. +</p> + +<p> +She took them from him, and quickly glanced at the envelopes. The one, +inscribed in a firm masculine handwriting to her present, Pimlico, +address, she put down on the dressing-table unopened. She knew, or +thought she knew, so well what it contained. +</p> + +<p> +There had been a time, not so very long ago, when Ivy Lexton’s +beautiful eyes would have shone at the sight of that handwriting. A +time when she would have torn that envelope open at once, so that her +senses could absorb with delight the ardent protestations of love +written on the large plain sheet of paper that envelope contained. +</p> + +<p> +But she no longer felt “like that” towards her daily correspondent, +Roger Gretorex. Also she was going to see him this morning in the +hope, nay, the certainty, that he would help to tide over this horrid +moment of difficulty, by giving her whatever money he could put his +hands on. +</p> + +<p> +Gretorex was of a very different stamp from the men who had up to now +fallen in love with her. He worshipped her with all his heart and +soul, while yet conscious that he was now doing what, before he had +been tempted, he would have unhesitatingly condemned in another man. +As to that, and other matters of less moment, he was what Ivy Lexton +felt to be ludicrously old-fashioned, and she had soon become weary of +him, and satiated with the jealous devotion he lavished on her. +</p> + +<p> +Also, Roger Gretorex was poor; not poor as Ivy’s husband had become, +largely through his own fault and hers, but through that of his +father, a great Sussex squire, who had gambled and muddled away his +only son’s inheritance. That was why Gretorex was a doctor, and not +what the woman he loved would have liked him to be, an idle young man +of means. +</p> + +<p> +The other envelope was addressed in a woman’s flowing hand, and it had +been sent on from Ivy’s bridge club. +</p> + +<p> +The writer of the many sheets this thick, cream-laid envelope +contained was named Rose Arundell. She was a well-to-do, generous, +rather foolish young widow, who had taken a great fancy to lovely Mrs. +Jervis Lexton. Mrs. Arundell had been, nay, was, a most useful friend, +and a look of dismay shadowed Ivy Lexton’s face as she read on and on, +till she reached the end of the long letter. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="rt1"> +<i>Wednesday afternoon.</i> +</p> + +<p> +Ivy, darling, I have the most <i>astounding</i> news to tell you! +</p> + +<p> +I’ll begin at the beginning. Besides, I can’t help thinking—for I +know you’re rather worried just now, poor dear—that it may be of help +to <i>you</i>. D’you remember my telling you last time we met at that +tiresome fête where we couldn’t see each other for a moment alone, +that I’d had a <i>wonderful</i> adventure? That I’d been to a +fortune-teller? Her name is Mrs. Thrawn. She lives at No. 1 Ranelagh +Reach on the Embankment. Her fee is a pound—and I feel inclined to +send her a thousand pounds when I think of what she has done for me! +</p> + +<p> +I don’t mind telling you <i>now</i> that I was on the point of taking that +silly boy, Ronny. No one knows but myself how <i>horribly</i> lonely I’ve +been. Well, I thought I’d go and see this Mrs. Thrawn and hear what +she’d got to say; for, after all, I didn’t <i>love</i> Ronny, and I always +had a dreadful suspicion it was my <i>money</i> he liked, rather than <i>me</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Well, my dear, I went off <i>trembling</i>. But I can’t tell you how +wonderful she was! She described Ronny and <i>warned me</i> against him. +Then she said that an extraordinary change was coming over my life, +and that if I would only be patient and <i>wait</i>, everything I had most +longed for would come to pass. She was most awfully kind—<i>really</i> +kind. She said that if I was sensible and did what she said—I mean +<i>refuse</i> Ronny—I should take a long journey very soon to a place that +she, Mrs. Thrawn, knew well and loved; and that I should be very, +<i>very</i> happy there. That place was India, as I knew, for the woman who +first told me about Mrs. Thrawn said she was the widow of a +<i>missionary</i>! +</p> + +<p> +And then, oh, Ivy, what do you think happened? I wonder if you +remember all I told you about the soldier who was my first love? The +man whom my mother would not let me marry and who did so splendidly in +the war? He’s home on leave from India, where he has a <i>splendid</i> +appointment. We ran across one another in the street, and I asked him +to come and see me. You can guess the rest! +</p> + +<p> +His leave is up <i>by the end of next week</i>. We shall be married very +quietly on Thursday, and sail for <i>India on Friday</i>. +</p> + +<p> +I’m in a whirl, as you can imagine. I’d love to have <i>you</i> at my +wedding, darling, for you really <i>are</i> my dearest friend. But <i>he</i> +doesn’t want anyone there who didn’t know us both in the <i>old</i> days, +before the war. He hasn’t a bean, but, thank God, I’ve <i>plenty</i> for us +both! +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +Your <i>devoted</i><br> +<span class="sc">Rose</span>. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Ivy Lexton put the long letter she had just read down on the +dressing-table. Then she took up the other, still unopened, envelope, +and stuffed it into her bag. After all she could read the letter it +contained in the omnibus, on her way to see Roger Gretorex. He had +taken over for a friend a slum practice in Westminster, and he lived +in what Ivy called a horrid little street named Ferry Place. +</p> + +<p> +She turned again towards the looking-glass, and began once more making +up her face at the point where she had been interrupted. She was so +used to the process that she worked quickly, mechanically, though +taking a great deal of intelligent care, far more care than did most +of her young married women friends. +</p> + +<p> +With regard to everything that concerned herself, Ivy Lexton was +quick, uncannily shrewd, and instinctively clever. She knew how to +exploit to the very best advantage her exceptional physical beauty, +her natural charm of manner, and, above all, her extraordinary allure +for men. +</p> + +<p> +And yet, so unsuspicious is human nature in that stratum of the +financially, easy, agreeably self-absorbed, and pleasure-loving world +in which Ivy played a not unimportant part, that all the men, and many +of the women, who came across her in that world, would have told you +that Ivy Lexton was “a dear little thing,” “a regular sport,” “a good +plucked one,” and “a splendid wife to that rotter Lexton.” +</p> + +<p> +When she had finished what was always to her an interesting and +pleasant task, she stood still, and did nothing, for a moment. She +longed to get away from this hateful room and this horrible house, yet +Roger Gretorex would not be free of his poorer patients for quite a +long while. This was the more tiresome as she always went into his +tiny mid-Victorian house by the back way, through the surgery, which +gave into a blind alley. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly her eyes fell on “her little all.” Why shouldn’t she take +that pound note, and call on Rose Arundell’s wonderful fortune-teller +on her way to Ferry Place? After all, she, too, might have an +unexpected bit of luck waiting for her round the corner. +</p> + +<p> +She slipped on a cool pale-pink cotton frock given her by that same +generous friend who was now, to her regret, going out of her life. +Then she jammed a little brown straw hat on her fair, naturally wavy, +shingled head, and, tiptoeing down the carpetless stairs, she hurried +through the dirty hall into the sunshiny street. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +Ranelagh Reach consisted of a row of six early nineteenth-century +houses on that part of the Embankment which forms a link between +Westminster and Chelsea. Two of the houses had evidently been taken +over lately by well-to-do people, for they had been repainted, and +their window-boxes were now filled with ivy-leaved geraniums. The four +other houses were shabby-looking and dilapidated, and it was in one of +these that there dwelt the woman who had taken as her professional +name that of Janet Thrawn. The blinds of No. 1 were down, the brown +paint on the front door had peeled, and the steps had evidently not +been “done” for days. Everything looked so poverty-stricken that Ivy +felt surprised when a very neat and capable-looking maid opened the +door in answer to her pull at the old-fashioned bell. She had expected +to see a slatternly little girl. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve come to see Mrs. Thrawn; Mrs. Arundell sent me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not sure that Mrs. Thrawn can see you, miss, unless you’ve made +an appointment. But please come in, while I go and see.” +</p> + +<p> +The inside of the little house was in its way as much of a surprise as +the maid; it was very different from what the outside would have led +the visitor to expect. There was a fine Persian rug on the floor of +the narrow hall, and plenty of light came in from a window half-way up +the staircase. Affixed to the red walls were plaster casts of hands, +forming a curious, uncanny kind of decoration. +</p> + +<p> +After the maid had gone upstairs Ivy Lexton felt a sudden impulse “to +cut and run.” A pound note meant a great deal to her just now. But as +she was turning towards the front door, the woman came down the steep +stairs of the old house. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Thrawn will see you,” she said. Then she turned and preceded the +visitor up the staircase. +</p> + +<p> +As they reached the landing the maid murmured: +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Thrawn won’t be a moment.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy Lexton looked round her nervously. There were evidently two rooms +on this floor—the front room, of which the blinds were down, and a +back room, of which the door was masked by a heavy embroidered green +silk curtain. On the patch of wall which formed the third side of the +landing was a dark oil painting, bearing on its tarnished gold frame +the inscription in black letters, “The Witch.” The subject was that of +a white-haired woman being burnt alive, while an evil-looking crowd +gloated over the hideous sight. +</p> + +<p> +There came the tinkle of a bell. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Thrawn will see you now,” said the woman shortly, drawing back +the curtain to show a door already ajar. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in!” called a full, resonant voice. +</p> + +<p> +Feeling excited and curious, for this was the first time she had ever +been to a fortune-teller, Ivy brushed past the maid. +</p> + +<p> +Then she felt a pang of disappointment. The room before her was so +very ordinary—just an old-fashioned back drawing-room, containing one +or two good pieces of furniture, while on the chimney-piece stood a +row of silver-gilt Indian ornaments. +</p> + +<p> +Even the soothsayer, the obvious owner of this room, impressed her +client as being almost commonplace. At any rate there was nothing +mysterious or romantic about her appearance. She was a tall, +powerful-looking woman, nearer sixty than fifty. Her grey hair was cut +short, and she was clad in an old-fashioned tea-gown, of bright blue +cashmere, which fell from her neck to her feet in heavy folds. +</p> + +<p> +The most remarkable feature of Mrs. Thrawn’s face was her eyes. They +were light hazel, luminous, compelling eyes, and as Ivy Lexton +advanced rather timidly towards her they became dilated, as if with a +sudden shock of gripping, overwhelming surprise. +</p> + +<p> +Yet nothing could have appeared at once more simple and more +attractive than this lovely girl who wanted to take a peep into the +future. Ivy Lexton looked almost a child in her flesh-coloured cotton +frock and the simple pull-on brown hat which framed her exquisite +little face. +</p> + +<p> +Making a determined effort over herself, Mrs. Thrawn withdrew her +astonished and, indeed, affrighted, glance from her visitor, and said +coldly, “I cannot give you long this morning, for I have an +appointment”—she looked at her wrist-watch—“in twenty minutes. I +suppose you know my fee is a pound, paid in advance?” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy felt a touch of resentment. Only twenty minutes for a whole pound? +Yet she was beginning to feel the compelling power of the woman, and +so, slowly, she took the one-pound note that remained to her out of +her bag. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Thrawn slipped the note into one of the patch pockets of her +gown, and motioned her visitor to a low stool, while she sat down, +herself, in a big arm-chair opposite. For a moment Ivy felt as she had +felt when as a little girl she was going to be scolded. +</p> + +<p> +“We will begin with your hands. No! Not like that. Your left hand +first, please, and the back to start with.” +</p> + +<p> +As she took Ivy’s hand in her cool firm grasp Mrs. Thrawn said +quietly, “I need not tell you that you have amazing powers of—well, +keeping your own counsel, when it suits you to do so.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she turned the hand she held over, and taking a small lens out of +the pocket where now lay Ivy’s one-pound note, she closely scrutinised +the lines criss-crossing the rosy palm. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve the most extraordinary fate-line that I’ve ever seen—and +that’s saying a very great deal,” she observed. +</p> + +<p> +“What I want to know,” began Ivy eagerly, “is——” +</p> + +<p> +“Whether there is going to be any change for the better in your life?” +</p> + +<p> +The fortune-teller waited a moment, and, lifting her head, she gave +her client a long measuring look. “Yes, there is going to be a great +change in your life. But as to whether it will be for the better or +for the worse——?” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Thrawn hesitated for what seemed to the other a long time. But at +last she exclaimed, “From your point of view I should say ‘for the +better,’ for I see money, a great deal of money, coming your way.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy turned crimson, so great were her surprise and joy. +</p> + +<p> +“Will it be soon?” she asked eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Very soon—in a few hours from now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sure?” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite sure.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Thrawn lifted her great head, and again she looked at her visitor +fixedly. +</p> + +<p> +“May I speak plainly? Will you try not to be offended at what I’m +going to say?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing you say could offend me,” cried Ivy in her prettiest manner. +“You don’t know how happy you’ve made me!” +</p> + +<p> +“I do know. But, though I don’t suppose you will ever believe it, +money is not everything, Mrs.——” +</p> + +<p> +“—Lexton.” +</p> + +<p> +The name slipped out. After all, why shouldn’t she tell Mrs. Thrawn +her name? Yet she was sorry she had done so a few moments later, for +the fortune-teller, leaning forward, exclaimed harshly: +</p> + +<p> +“Now for the powder after the jam! I sense that you are engaged in an +illicit love affair fraught to you, and to others also, with frightful +danger.” +</p> + +<p> +Once more Ivy’s face crimsoned under her clever make-up, but this time +with fear and dismay. Her eyes fell before the other woman’s hard +scrutiny. +</p> + +<p> +“Wrong is, of course, a matter of conscience, and I know you think you +have nothing to be ashamed of. But you are leading a fine soul astray, +and evil influences are gathering round you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know that I’ve done wrong,” faltered Ivy, frightened and perplexed +by Mrs. Thrawn’s manner, rather than by her warning. +</p> + +<p> +The other said sharply, “You know nothing of the sort! You’ve not got +what I call a conscience, Mrs. Lexton. But a conscience nowadays is a +very old-fashioned attribute. Many a young woman would hardly know +what to do with one if she had it!” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy did not know what to answer, and felt sorry indeed that she had +let this censorious, disagreeable person know her name. +</p> + +<p> +“For your own sake,” went on Mrs. Thrawn earnestly, “break with this +man who loves you. For one thing, ‘it’s well to be off with the old +love before you are on with the new.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +“Then there is going to be another man in my life?” Ivy asked eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“I see a stranger coming into your life within a few hours from now. +Whether his valuable friendship for you endures will entirely depend +on yourself.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Thrawn got up from her chair. +</p> + +<p> +“As we haven’t much time, I will now look into the crystal.” +</p> + +<p> +She drew down the blind of the one window in the room, and, going +across to the writing-table, she took off it a heavy, round glass ball +which looked like, and might indeed have been sold for, a +paper-weight. Then, moving forward a small, low table, she put it +between herself and her visitor. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t speak,” she said quickly. “Try to empty your mind of all +thought.” +</p> + +<p> +Bending her head, she gazed into the crystal, and what seemed to Ivy +Lexton a long time went by. +</p> + +<p> +In reality, it might have been as long as two minutes before Mrs. +Thrawn began speaking again, this time in a quick, muffled voice. +</p> + +<p> +“I see you both now, you and the dark young man on whom you will bring +unutterable misery and shame, and who will bring you distress and +disappointment, if you do not break with him now, to-day. The safe way +is still open to you, Mrs. Lexton, but soon it will be closed, and you +will find yourself in a prison of your own making, and +trapped—trapped like a rat in a sinking ship.” +</p> + +<p> +Again there was a long, tense silence, and again Ivy began to feel +vaguely frightened. +</p> + +<p> +The prediction of shame and misery to another meant very little, if +indeed anything, to her. But distress and disappointment to herself? +Ah! that was another thing altogether. Ivy very much disliked meeting +with even trifling disappointments. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Thrawn looked up. All the brilliance had gone out of her curious, +luminous eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I fear you will not follow the better way,” she said slowly. “Indeed, +I sense that you are making up your mind not to follow it, unless the +doing so falls in with your other plans. I see this dark young man’s +destiny closely intertwined with your life. He will bear the scars you +are about to inflict on him to his grave, and that whether he lives +but a few months, or a long lifetime. You do not what you call love +him any more. But he loves you as you have never yet been loved, and +never will be.” +</p> + +<p> +Her voice softened and became low and pitiful, for the girl who was +now gazing at her with a surprised, frightened expression on her +exquisite face looked too young to be what the soothsayer believed her +to be, that is, already doomed, unless she altered her whole way of +life, to suffer terrible things. +</p> + +<p> +“As woman to woman, let me give you a word of advice, Mrs. Lexton. For +your own sake try to follow it.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will!” cried Ivy sincerely. +</p> + +<p> +“Do not be afraid of poverty——” And then, as she saw the other’s +instinctive recoil, “Poverty does not touch the likes of you with its +cold finger,” and Mrs. Thrawn gave an eerie laugh. “If you are wise, +if you do what is still open to you to do, you will have ups and +downs, but the ups will predominate, and there will always be some +man, even when you become what I should call an old woman, who will be +proud, yes, proud, to be your banker.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you see something nice coming for me soon in that glass ball?” +asked Ivy nervously. +</p> + +<p> +She longed, secretly, to be told something more of the new man who was +coming into her life. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Thrawn bent over the cloudy crystal. Then she muttered: +</p> + +<p> +“The pictures are forming. They are coming thick and fast. And—but +no, I will not tell you what I see, for what I am seeing may not +concern you at all. It may concern the future of the woman who is now +on my doorstep——” +</p> + +<p> +And, as she said the word “doorstep,” the old-fashioned house-bell +pealed through the house. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Thrawn rose and put her crystal back on the writing-table. Then +she pulled up the blind. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ve only a few moments left. But I’m going, for my own +satisfaction,” she interjected in a singular tone, “to tell your +fortune by the cards.” +</p> + +<p> +As she spoke she took a pack of cards out of the drawer of her +writing-table, and sank down again into her chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Now cut.” +</p> + +<p> +After Ivy had obeyed, the soothsayer rapidly dealt out the cards. Then +she put down her finger on the queen of hearts. +</p> + +<p> +“This card stands for you,” she dragged her finger along. “And here is +the king of diamonds, the man who is coming into your life, and who +will give you money, much money. Even so——” she shook her head, “you +will never be able to count on him as you can count on the man who is +still bound to you, and whom I bid you cast out of your life at +once—at once.” +</p> + +<p> +She swept the cards together and rose from her chair. +</p> + +<p> +“I saw trouble in your hand; I saw trouble in the crystal; I saw great +trouble in the cards. Yet, Mrs. Lexton, you are not a woman who +troubles trouble before trouble troubles you. Even so, unless you +follow my advice about your present lover, I see misfortune galloping +towards you like a riderless horse.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you do still believe that I’m going to get a lot of money?” Ivy +asked pleadingly. “Did the cards tell you that also?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, the cards told me that also.” +</p> + +<p> +From outside the door came the sound of footsteps. +</p> + +<p> +“One last word—one last warning. When you came into this room you +were not alone, Mrs. Lexton.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy stared at her. What could Mrs. Thrawn mean? Of course she had been +alone! +</p> + +<p> +“You were accompanied, surrounded, by a huge mob of men and women, +invisible to you, but visible to me. Are you an actress?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was an actress, for a little while, before I married,” said Ivy, +smiling. “And I’d love to go back on the stage, but only as a leading +lady, of course.” +</p> + +<p> +“Given certain eventualities, you will become of great moment, of +absorbing interest, to hundreds of thousands of people. Men and women +will fight over you—the newspapers will record your every movement.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy smiled self-consciously. This last unexpected prediction gave her +a thrill of pleasurable excitement. What could it mean but a +triumphant return to the stage, of which she had been hitherto only a +humble and transient ornament? +</p> + +<p> +“There is a woman already in your life—I see her now standing behind +you. She is a grey-haired, worn-looking old woman. If you fail to do +what I advise you to do, she will play an overwhelming part in your +destiny. Indeed it is she who may determine your fate.” +</p> + +<p> +Then she turned, and taking a tiny silver-gilt bell off the +mantelpiece she rang it sharply. +</p> + +<p> +The door opened, and the maid pulled aside the heavy curtain. There +was no stranger waiting on the landing. Ivy looked so surprised that +the woman smiled. “Mrs. Thrawn doesn’t like her clients to cross one +another. The lady who has just come in is waiting in the front room.” +</p> + +<p> +As Mrs. Thrawn’s late visitor walked quickly down the Embankment +towards the place for which she was bound, she felt more really +light-hearted than she had felt for, oh! such a long time. Money +coming her way—and a new man in her life? That was all Ivy Lexton +really remembered of that curious interview. The warnings Mrs. Thrawn +had given her she put down to the soothsayer’s conventional outlook on +life. +</p> + +<p> +As for the woman’s advice concerning Roger Gretorex, she ought to have +known, being a fortune-teller, that she, Ivy, had already made up her +mind to break with her secret lover. She could not, however, break +with him to-day, for two reasons. First, she was going to ask him for +a little money, and secondly, he was giving a theatre-party this +evening. She, Ivy, her friend Rose Arundell, and Jervis Lexton were to +be Gretorex’s guests, and he was taking them on, after the play, to +supper at the Savoy. That had been settled days ago. +</p> + +<p> +Rose Arundell? She told herself vexedly that Rose would certainly +“chuck.” In fact it was plain that Rose had forgotten all about +to-night’s engagement, or she would have mentioned it in her letter. +They would be three instead of four. But perhaps, after all, that +didn’t really matter, for Jervis was quite fond of Roger. +</p> + +<p> +There was, however, a fly, albeit a small fly, in the ointment. There +was no such person, there never had been, or, it seemed to her, could +be, in her life, as a worn-looking, grey-haired woman. This fact made +her feel a little doubtful, a little anxious, as to the truth of the +fortune-teller’s other predictions. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch02"> +Chapter Two +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">Why, there’s</span> Mr. Rushworth! Do go over and ask him to join us for +coffee.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy Lexton was smiling at her husband—a delicious, roguish smile. As +he smiled back, he told himself with conscious satisfaction that his +little wife was far the prettiest woman here to-night. +</p> + +<p> +Her sleekly brushed-back auburn hair, white skin, violet eyes, and +slender rounded figure were wont to remind those few of her admirers +familiar with the art of Romney of a certain portrait of Nelson’s +Emma, spinning. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy’s husband was pleasantly aware that she was not only the +prettiest, but also one of the smartest looking, of the women supping +at the Savoy to-night. This was the more commendable, from simple +Jervis Lexton’s point of view, as they were so hard up—stony-broke, +in fact. +</p> + +<p> +He generally did at once anything Ivy asked him to do, but now he +waited for a few moments. +</p> + +<p> +“D’you mean that chap we met at the Hamptons? <i>I</i> don’t see him.” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be stupid, darling! He’s over in that corner, with two +dowdy-looking women, looking bored to death. I’m sure he’ll be +delighted to join us for coffee.” +</p> + +<p> +There had come an edge of irritation in her seductive voice. Ivy had a +peculiar and very individual intonation, and many a man had found it +the most enchanting voice in the world. +</p> + +<p> +At last Lexton rose, just a thought unwillingly. He had been enjoying +himself to-night, forgetting the money anxieties which had at last +become desperately pressing, while listening to his wife’s gay chatter +concerning the well-known people who were also supping at the Savoy +this July night. +</p> + +<p> +The young man liked a party of just three friends much better than the +big noisy suppers to which he sometimes escorted his wife. In a way it +was funny that their host, a grim-looking young doctor named Roger +Gretorex, was their friend, for even Lexton realised that, though he +and Gretorex were both country-bred, and belonged to the now vanishing +old county gentry class, they had nothing else in common. +</p> + +<p> +The host had hardly said a word during the whole evening, either at +the theatre, or since they had come on here. So taciturn had he been +that Lexton supposed the poor chap was glum because the pretty widow, +Mrs. Arundell, whom they were to have brought with them to make a +fourth, had fallen out. He knew that Ivy suspected that Gretorex liked +Mrs. Arundell quite a little bit. If so, the young man was out of +luck, for he was the last sort of chap an attractive widow was likely +to fancy. +</p> + +<p> +As he threaded his way between the crowded round tables, there came +over Jervis Lexton a queer and very definite feeling of unwillingness +to obey his wife. He remembered that he and Ivy had met this man, +Miles Rushworth, about three weeks ago at a week-end country house +party, and that Ivy had taken quite a fancy to him. But he, Jervis, +remembered that he himself had not taken to Rushworth. For one thing, +he had thought the man too damn clever and pleased with himself. +</p> + +<p> +Rushworth was, however, an enormously rich man, and Ivy had spent most +of the Saturday evening of that long week-end out in the moonlit +garden, pacing up and down with him. Late that same night she had told +her husband, excitedly, that her new friend had said he thought he +could find what Lexton had long been looking for—an easy, well-paid +job. +</p> + +<p> +But Ivy’s husband, simple though he might be, had learnt a thing or +two since they had joined the ranks of what some call “the new poor.” +One was that, though his wife could twist most men round her little +finger, it didn’t follow she could make them do much to help him. This +time he had been so far wrong that on the Monday morning this chap +Rushworth, after motoring them both back to town, when saying good-bye +had muttered something to Ivy as to “setting your husband on his feet +again.” But this had happened a good three weeks ago, and their new +acquaintance had given no further sign of life. +</p> + +<p class="mt1"> +After Lexton had risen from the little round table, the two he had +left sitting there kept silence for what seemed, to the woman, a long +time. Then suddenly Gretorex exclaimed, in a low tense voice, “How I +hate hearing you call that man ‘darling’!” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy Lexton made no answer to that statement. She was picking up the +tiny crumbs left by her fairy bread from the side of her plate, and +arranging them in a diamond pattern on the tablecloth. But, though she +seemed intent on her babyish task, she was angrily, impatiently aware +that her companion was gazing at her with unhappy, frowning eyes. His +words had cut across her pleasant thoughts—her joyful relief at +having seen Miles Rushworth, at knowing that in a few moments he would +be here, with her. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry I made this plan about to-night,” she said at last, +scarcely moving her lips. “It was stupid of me.” +</p> + +<p> +“It was more than stupid of me to agree to it,” muttered Gretorex +savagely. “I’ve never been more wretched in my life than I’ve been +to-night!” +</p> + +<p> +She told herself, with a touch of contempt, that what he had just said +was not only stupid, but utterly untrue. Why should the presence of +her good-humoured, easy-going husband make Roger wretched? But she +kept her feeling of irritation in check. +</p> + +<p> +She glanced round at him—it was a pleading, tender glance—and his +heart leapt. How wondrous beautiful she was, and—how divinely kind! +</p> + +<p> +And then a curious thing happened to Roger Gretorex. In that softly +illumined, flower-scented, luxurious London restaurant, it was as if +he saw in a vision the wistful and plain, if intelligent, face of a +girl he had known the whole of her short life. Her name was Enid Dent, +and she was now twenty-one. Had he not met Ivy Lexton seven months +ago, he and Enid Dent would now have been engaged to be married.… +</p> + +<p> +So strong was the half-hallucination that he shut his eyes. When he +opened them again the vision was gone, and he was hearing the voice +which meant more to him than any other voice would ever mean to him in +this world murmur gently, “It hasn’t been exactly cheerful for me.” +</p> + +<p> +Impulsively he exclaimed, “You’re an angel, and I’m a selfish brute, +Ivy——” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled, but it was a mirthless smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Not a brute, Roger, only just a little selfish. I was a fool to ask +you to ask us to-night——” +</p> + +<p> +For the first time this evening Ivy Lexton had uttered a few true, +sincere words. She knew now that it had been a stupid act on her part +to bring her husband and this strong-natured, not over good-tempered, +young man who loved her together this evening. But after all they had +to meet now and again! Poor Jervis quite liked Roger Gretorex. Why +couldn’t Roger like Jervis, too? +</p> + +<p> +Ivy was really fond of her husband. He was so kindly, so unsuspicious, +on the whole so easy to manage, and still so absolutely devoted to +her. And yet of late she often thought, deep in her heart, what a +glorious life she might be leading now, if Jervis, less or more +devoted, had granted her, two years ago, an arranged divorce. There +had been a rich young man who had adored her. But Jervis had angrily +refused to fall in with her scheme. It had led, in fact, to their only +real quarrel. But “all that” was now forgiven and forgotten. +</p> + +<p> +She stole a look at the occupants of the other tables and, as she did +so, she felt a sharp stab of envy. They all seemed so prosperous, so +care-free! Each woman had that peculiar, indefinable appearance which +only a happy sense of material security bestows, each man, in his +measure, looked like a lord of life.… But what was this Roger Gretorex +was saying as he bent towards her? “I sometimes wonder if you really +know, dearest, how much I love you?” +</p> + +<p> +The ardent words were whispered low, but she heard them very clearly, +and she smiled. Though she was growing very weary of Roger Gretorex, +it is always sweet to a woman to feel she is loved as this man loved +her. +</p> + +<p> +Still, she felt relieved when she saw her husband, and the three she +had sent him for, threading their way through the narrow lane left +between the beflowered tables. +</p> + +<p> +Miles Rushworth was leading the little company. He was the kind of man +who always does lead the way. Though he was now only two or three +tables off, Ivy realised that he had not yet seen her, and so she was +able to cast on him a long measuring glance. +</p> + +<p> +Mary Hampton, the woman at whose house they had met, had said that he +was a millionaire. The word millionaire fascinated Ivy Lexton. And +then all at once she told herself that it was Rushworth, of course it +must be, who was the stranger coming into her life. +</p> + +<p> +Miles Rushworth was tall and well built but, had he not kept himself +in good condition, he would have been a stout man. He had a healthy, +almost a ruddy, complexion; brown eyes; what is called a good nose; a +large, firm mouth; and perfect teeth. His short-clipped brown hair was +already slightly streaked with grey, though he was only thirty-six. +</p> + +<p> +He was not in, and did not care to be in, what to herself Ivy called +“society.” Neither was he nearly so much a man of the world as was, +for instance, her own rather foolish husband. Yet Miles Rushworth had +that undeniable air of authority, that power of making himself +attended to at once, which always spells brains and character, as well +as what old-fashioned folk call a good conceit of oneself. +</p> + +<p> +She glanced also, with quick scrutiny, at Rushworth’s guests. They +were probably a mother and daughter, and, though dowdily dressed, +obviously well-bred women. The older lady was wearing a black lace +gown of antiquated make; the lace was caught at her breast with an +early-Victorian brooch made of fine diamonds. Hung round her long, +thin neck was an emerald necklace. The girl had a pleasant, animated +face, and a good figure. Her long hair was still dressed as it had +been when she was eighteen—a fact that marked her age as being about +seven- or eight-and-twenty. She was wearing an unbecoming pale mauve +dress, and there came over Ivy a fear that she might be a widow. +Lovely Ivy Lexton shared the elder Mr. Weller’s opinion concerning +widows. +</p> + +<p> +The younger lady’s only ornament was a string of real pearls. The +pearls, though not large, were beautifully matched. +</p> + +<p> +As Miles Rushworth came close up to the table, Ivy Lexton rose from +her chair, and her face broke into an enchanting expression of +pleasure and welcoming surprise. As she held out her hand she +exclaimed: “Jervis felt sure it was you! Thank you so much for coming +over here. It is most kind of your friends to come too.” +</p> + +<p> +Rushworth took her little hand in his strong grasp. He gazed down into +her upturned face with a look which, to her at least, proved she had +not been mistaken, and that, in spite of his broken promise, already +she meant something to him. +</p> + +<p> +He turned round: “May I introduce my friend Mrs. Lexton, Lady Dale?” +And then, more lightly, he exclaimed: “Bella, I want you to know Mrs. +Lexton!” +</p> + +<p> +As she held out her hand, “Bella” smiled and looked, with unenvious +admiration, at the lovely young woman before her. This pleased Ivy, +for she had an almost morbid desire that all those about her should +like her, feel attracted to her, and think well of her, whatever their +relation to herself might happen to be. +</p> + +<p> +A moment later Bella Dale found herself sitting next to a +gloomy-looking young man who somehow interested her because he looked +clever, as well as gloomy. Jervis Lexton was talking pleasantly, +happily, to Lady Dale. As for Miles Rushworth, he had lowered himself +into a chair which he had unceremoniously seized from another table, +and which he had put a little apart from the rest of the party, and +close to Mrs. Lexton. +</p> + +<p> +“I have forgotten all you told me, and what I promised you,” he said +in a low tone. “But I only came back to town this morning, and I’ve +been fearfully busy all the time I’ve been away.” +</p> + +<p> +He waited a moment, then he asked her what she felt to be a momentous +question. “Would your husband take a job away from London?” +</p> + +<p> +A feeling of acute dismay swept over her. It would be dreadful if this +big powerful man—powerful in every sense—were to arrange suddenly +that she and Jervis should go to live in some dreary, dull town in the +north of England! So, after a perceptible pause, she answered frankly, +“I don’t think I should like to leave London, and as for my husband, +I’m afraid he’d be like a fish out of water, anywhere else.” +</p> + +<p> +Miles Rushworth looked across to where Jervis Lexton was now sipping +slowly a liqueur brandy. “The chap looks a regular slacker,” he said +to himself contemptuously. +</p> + +<p> +He considered it a tragic thing that the deliciously pretty, +sweet-natured, little woman now sitting so close to him that they +nearly touched, should be married to “that.” +</p> + +<p> +He heard her whisper hesitatingly, “But Jervis must get something to +do very soon now, Mr. Rushworth, or I don’t know what we shall do. +We’re so horribly hard up,” and her mouth, that most revealing +feature, quivered. +</p> + +<p> +His strong face—the face he believed to be so shrewd, and which was +shrewd where “business” was concerned—became filled with warm +sympathy. +</p> + +<p> +“That can’t be allowed to go on!” he exclaimed a little awkwardly. +</p> + +<p> +During their last moonlit walk and talk in the dark, scented garden of +the house where they had first met, Ivy Lexton had told him the +pathetic story of her life. How, when she and Jervis Lexton had first +married, they had been quite well off, but that a dishonest lawyer had +somehow muddled away all “poor Jervis’s money.” +</p> + +<p> +She had further confessed that now they were really “up against it,” +hard-driven as they had never been before. +</p> + +<p> +“An idle man,” she had said, speaking in that tremulous, husky voice +which nearly always touched a listener’s heart-strings, “can’t help +spending money. I would give anything to get my husband a job!” +</p> + +<p> +Miles Rushworth remembered, now, that pathetic cry from the heart, and +he felt much ashamed that he had not attended to the matter ere this. +But he had not forgotten this dear little woman, and, had they not met +to-night, she would have heard from him within a day or two. +</p> + +<p> +All at once, by what was a real accident, his fingers touched her bare +arm. They lay on her soft flesh for the fraction of a minute, and it +was as if she could feel the thrill which ran through him. +</p> + +<p> +She did not move, she scarcely breathed. Neither could have said how +long it was before those hard, cool fingers slid down and grasped her +soft hand. He crushed her hand in his strong grasp, then let it go. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you would like Mr. Lexton to start work this autumn?” he +said at last. “There isn’t much doing during August and September.” +</p> + +<p> +His voice sounded strangely caressing and possessive, even to himself. +But he felt sure that Ivy, a “nice” woman, had no suspicion of how +much he had been moved by that casual, unexpected touch. +</p> + +<p> +Miles Rushworth told himself that he must mind his step, for this +seductive little creature, God help him, was another man’s wife, and +he “wasn’t that sort.” Neither, he would have staked his life on it, +was she. +</p> + +<p> +And yet? Was it he?—sensible, prudent, nay, where women were +concerned, over-cautious—Miles Rushworth, or some tricksy, bold +entity outside himself which uttered the words: “By the way, what are +you doing next month? If you’re doing nothing in particular, I do wish +you’d both join my yachting party. Lady Dale and her daughter are +coming, together with two or three others.” +</p> + +<p> +A look of real, almost child-like, joy and pleasure flashed into Ivy +Lexton’s face and, once more, the man sitting so closely by her side +felt shaken to the depths. Tenderness was now added to the feeling of +passionate attraction of which he was already half uncomfortably, half +exultantly, aware. How young she looked, how innocent—now, at this +moment, like a happy little girl. +</p> + +<p> +“D’you really mean that?” she cried. “I’ve always longed to go +yachting! But I’ve never even been in a yacht. Jervis is awfully fond +of the sea, too; he was at Cowes when the war broke out!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then that settles it,” exclaimed Rushworth delightedly. “We join the +<i>Dark Lady</i> at Southampton on August the 5th! By the way, perhaps I +ought to tell you that we’re not going on any specially wonderful +trip. We’re only going to cruise about the coast of France. I’m afraid +Lady Dale and her daughter will have to leave us fairly soon—they’ve +promised to stay with some people near Dieppe.” +</p> + +<p> +“It will be heavenly—heavenly!” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy whispered those five words almost in his ear, for she was +exceedingly anxious that Roger Gretorex should hear nothing of this +delightful plan. She had promised the young man she would spend a +week, during August, alone with him and his mother in the Sussex manor +house which was still his own, though all the land up to the park +gates had been sold. +</p> + +<p> +As she gave a quick surreptitious glance at the host who was her +dangerously jealous lover—even jealous, grotesque thought, of her +husband, entirely unsuspicious Jervis—a feeling of sharp irritation +again swept over Ivy Lexton. +</p> + +<p> +She told herself angrily that, though Roger Gretorex might belong by +birth to grand people (to her surprise he made no effort to keep up +with them), he had never been taught to behave as a young man should +always behave in pleasant company. Even now, he still had what Ivy +called “his thundercloud face,” and he was scarcely paying any +attention to the girl sitting by him. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy, not for the first time, realised that she had been a fool indeed +to allow herself to become attracted to a man who was so little of her +own sort. And yet Gretorex had been such a wonderful wooer! And his +ardour had moved and excited her all the more because, at times, he +had been as if overwhelmed with what had seemed to her an absurd kind +of remorse at the knowledge that the woman he loved was another man’s +wife. +</p> + +<p> +Dismissing the distasteful thought of Gretorex from her mind, she +turned to Rushworth. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t say anything to my husband about this delightful plan,” she +murmured. “I shall have to bring him round to the idea. You see, he’s +so awfully eager to start work at once.” +</p> + +<p> +The lights were now being turned off one by one, so Ivy smiled across +at Lady Dale, and rose from the chair which touched that on which +Rushworth was still sitting as if lost in a dream. +</p> + +<p> +As, a few moments later, they all stood together outside in the cool +night air—all, that is, but Roger Gretorex who, after having uttered +a curt good-night, had gone back to the now fast-emptying restaurant +to pay his bill—Miles Rushworth exclaimed: “We can all squeeze into +my car, or, if not, I’ll go outside.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy was delighted. She very much disliked the spending of any +unnecessary ready money just now; and the thought of going home in a +crowded omnibus on this fine July night had been unbearable. +</p> + +<p> +In the end it was Jervis Lexton who sat outside by the chauffeur, +while inside the car the other four discussed their coming yachting +tour. +</p> + +<p> +At last the Rolls-Royce drew up before the shabby-looking, +stucco-fronted house in Pimlico, and Rushworth helped Ivy Lexton out +of his car with a strong, careful hand. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t ring,” she said hurriedly; “Jervis has a latchkey. This house +belongs to an old servant of the Lexton family; that’s why we are +living here.” +</p> + +<p> +As Ivy’s husband opened the door, Ivy’s new friend caught a glimpse of +the dirty, gaslit hall, and his heart swelled with mingled disgust and +pity. He must get this sweet, dainty little woman out of this horrible +place at once—at once. Taking her hand in his, he held it just a +thought longer than is perhaps usual even when a man is bidding +good-night to an exceptionally pretty woman. +</p> + +<p class="mt1"> +Long, long after Jervis Lexton was fast asleep in his crowded little +back room, Ivy lay awake on the hard, lumpy, small double bed which +took up most of the space in the front room. +</p> + +<p> +She was tired, and with fatigue had come a feeling of depression. +Miles Rushworth had said nothing as to their next meeting. He had +forgotten her before—he might forget her again. As for Mrs. +Thrawn—all that woman had told her might be fudge. The hard, shrewd +side of Ivy’s nature came uppermost, and whispered that she had +probably been very silly to spend a pound on a fortune-teller, and +sillier still to believe in her predictions. +</p> + +<p> +As she lay there, moving restlessly about, for it was a hot night, +there came over her a feeling of revolt, almost of despair, at the +conditions of her present day-to-day life. She was vividly aware of +her own beauty—what beautiful young woman is not? In a certain set, +the world of the smart night clubs, she was known as “the lovely Mrs. +Lexton.” Further, she was popular, well liked by all sorts of people, +women as well as men, and dowered by nature with a keen appreciation +of all that makes civilised life decorous, orderly, and attractive. +</p> + +<p> +Unlike some of her friends, she hated and despised Bohemian ways. She +had tasted something of what Bohemia can offer her subjects during the +few weeks she had spent in the chorus of a musical comedy. Yet now she +was condemned—she sincerely believed through no fault of her own—to +lead an existence full of sordid shifts, and of expedients so ignoble +that even she sometimes shrank from them, while always on her slender +shoulders lay the dead weight of her husband, a completely idle, +extravagant, and yes, well she knew it, very stupid young man. +</p> + +<p> +With angry distress she now asked herself a question of immediate +moment. How was she to procure even the very simplest clothes suitable +for life on a yacht? For a long time, now, she had had to pay ready +money where she had once been welcome to unlimited credit. +</p> + +<p> +Then in the darkness her face lightened. She had remembered Roger +Gretorex! Poor though he was, he could always find money for her at a +pinch. He had done so this very morning, and would of course do so +again. +</p> + +<p> +Then her face shadowed. Though Roger had his uses, he was becoming a +tiresome, even a dangerous, complication in her life. Yet had it not +been for him, had he not taken them to the Savoy to-night, she might +never again have seen the man on whom now all her hopes centred. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy Lexton had an intimate knowledge of the ugly, sinister sides of +human nature. Her own father, a big man of business, had failed when +she was seventeen. He had killed himself to avoid legal proceedings +which would have led to a term of imprisonment. Their large circle of +acquaintances (of real friends they had none) were some kind, some +cruel, to the feckless, foolish, still pretty widow, and her lovely +young daughter. The widow had soon married again, to die within a +year. Ivy, after drifting about rudderless for a while, had obtained +the “walking-on” part which had introduced her to an idle, +pleasure-seeking, rich class of young men. By the time she was twenty +she could have married half a dozen times. Her choice finally fell on +Jervis Lexton, partly because he was of a superior social world to the +other men who made love to her, but far more because at that time he +had been undisputed owner of what had seemed to her a large fortune. +Yet that fortune had melted like snow, lasting the two of them barely +six years.… +</p> + +<p> +Tossing about in her hot bed, Ivy reminded herself with a dawning +feeling of hope, almost of security, that dull Lady Flora, who was no +gossip, had said, during the week-end they had first met, that Miles +Rushworth’s income was over a hundred thousand a year.… +</p> + +<p> +As she was drinking her cup of tea the next morning, there was brought +up to her an envelope, marked “Personal,” which had come by hand. +</p> + +<p> +Eagerly tearing it open, at once she saw that, in addition to a +letter, it contained a small plain envelope: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="rt1"> +<span class="sc">The Albany</span>,<br> +<i>Friday morning.</i> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">My dear Mrs. Lexton</span>, +</p> + +<p> +I have already thought of a job for your husband, but the earliest +moment he can begin work would be the third week in September, say a +week after our return from our yachting trip. This being so, I hope +you will forgive me for sending you the enclosed cheque for a hundred +pounds, which he can pay me back at his convenience after he has begun +to draw his salary. +</p> + +<p> +I shall be so pleased if you and he will lunch with me to-morrow at +the Carlton Grill. We can then make our final arrangements as to +meeting at Southampton on August 5th. +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +Yours very sincerely,<br> +<span class="sc">Miles Rushworth</span>. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +As Ivy drew out of the smaller envelope an uncrossed cheque made out +to “self,” and endorsed “Miles Rushworth,” tears of joy rose to her +eyes. +</p> + +<p> +She ran into the next room, and excitedly told her husband the good +news. But she said that the cheque their generous new friend had sent +them “on account” was for fifty pounds. +</p> + +<p> +Jervis Lexton leapt out of bed. “How splendid!” he exclaimed. And +then, seizing her in his arms, he pirouetted in the tiny space left in +the middle of the garret. “You are the cleverest as well as the +prettiest little woman in the whole world!” he cried. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch03"> +Chapter Three +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">Do look</span> at Mrs. Lexton! Isn’t she absolutely lovely, Miles?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Bella—and as good as she is pretty, I really do believe,” was +the half-joking answer. +</p> + +<p> +Look at her? Rushworth had done very little else since Ivy had come +out of her state-room this morning. +</p> + +<p> +The two speakers were standing on the deck of the <i>Dark Lady</i>, and +three yards away Ivy Lexton, lying back in a deck-chair, was talking +animatedly to one of her fellow-guests, a good-looking young man named +Quirk, who after having done well in the war, had been very nearly +down and out by 1921, when he had been found and succoured by +Rushworth. He now had his own ’plane, his air-taxi as he called it, +and, thanks again to Rushworth, he never lacked good customers. +</p> + +<p> +It was true that Mrs. Lexton looked lovely to-day. All the lovelier +because she was thoroughly enjoying her new rôle, that of a perfectly +turned out yachtswoman. +</p> + +<p> +But Miles Rushworth had already told himself more than once, in the +last hour, that he would be cool, detached, impartial, when +considering this special guest. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you couldn’t say a word to her, just pointing out that +she’s quite pretty enough to do without lipstick and rouge? I wish +you’d tell her they don’t look, somehow, the right thing on a yacht.” +</p> + +<p> +Bella Dale smiled and shook her head. “If you want me to make friends +with her, that would be a very poor beginning——” +</p> + +<p> +He said suddenly, “I am afraid Lady Dale doesn’t care for Mrs. +Lexton?” +</p> + +<p> +The colour deepened in his companion’s cheeks, and she looked +embarrassed. +</p> + +<p> +“Mother hasn’t had much of a chance of talking to her yet.” +</p> + +<p> +Bella Dale was uncomfortably aware that her mother had taken an +instant dislike to Ivy Lexton on the evening they had first met at the +Savoy; and she knew that Lady Dale’s feeling had increased, rather +than lessened, since the Lextons had joined Miles Rushworth’s yacht, +for she had exclaimed to her daughter in the privacy of their +state-room: “It’s foolish to be too good-natured, Bella. That young +woman is a regular little minx!” +</p> + +<p> +But Bella Dale, at this time of her life, saw everything through Miles +Rushworth’s eyes. She liked what he liked, admired what he admired, +and at any rate tried to believe good what he believed good. He had +asked her earnestly to make friends with Mrs. Lexton, and he had told +her something of the struggle the poor, pretty, little thing had gone +through. Also he had let her see how great was his contempt for Ivy’s +worthless, extravagant, idle husband.… +</p> + +<p> +Rushworth had always had from childhood a passion for the sea. His had +been an old-fashioned home, and everything had been done by his +parents to promote what they thought was for his happiness from the +day he was born; but not once had he been asked what he wished to do +in life. His path had been marked out for him almost, it may be said, +before his birth. His father would have been surprised as well as +dismayed to learn that, both as a child and as a youth, his great wish +had been to enter the Navy. During the war he had given to naval +charities what would have crippled a lesser fortune than his own. +</p> + +<p> +His fine yacht was his one personal extravagance, and on the <i>Dark +Lady</i> he spent by far the happiest hours of his life. But he had +deliberately so arranged the accommodation that it was impossible for +him to have a really big party aboard. Eight to ten, including +himself, was his limit, and the same people were generally asked by +him each year. Lady Dale and her daughter, together with an +old-fashioned couple belonging to a rather older generation than +himself, who looked forward the whole year through to this August +yachting fortnight, always came. To these he had added this summer the +flying man, the latter’s bride, and the Lextons. +</p> + +<p> +Acting as hostess was a middle-aged spinster cousin of his mother’s, +who, like himself, had a passion for the sea. Charlotte Chattle was a +pleasant woman of the world, speaking both French and Italian well, +and clever in organising expeditions for those of his guests who cared +for land jaunts. But the only people who counted in Rushworth’s mind +on this summer cruise were Lady Dale and her daughter, and Ivy Lexton +and Ivy Lexton’s husband. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy’s half-presentiment at the Savoy had been perhaps a case of +thought transference, for Miles Rushworth, just about that time, had +been thinking seriously of marrying Bella Dale. Indeed, had that +meeting with the Lextons not taken place, he would almost certainly +have been engaged by now to Bella, and he still so far deceived +himself as to wish that the girl he thought he loved, and whom he +intended to become Mrs. Miles Rushworth, should make friends with Ivy +Lexton. +</p> + +<p> +Bella Dale had done her best in the last three days to fall in with +his wishes, but she found it difficult to get further than a mild +acquaintanceship with Miles Rushworth’s beautiful guest. She knew +nothing of the night club, dancing, racing life, which was all that +both the Lextons knew and thought worth living for. And Ivy, on her +side, was entirely ignorant of, and would have despised, had she known +of them, the manifold social and general interests which filled the +life of even so quiet a girl as Bella Dale. Also Bella, who was no +fool, realised with some discomfort that Mrs. Lexton had very quickly +become aware that Lady Dale did not like or approve of her. +</p> + +<p> +And Ivy herself? Ivy was counting the hours—to her intense relief +they had now become hours instead of days—to the time when Lady Dale +and her daughter would leave the yacht at Dieppe. +</p> + +<p> +During the three weeks that had elapsed since their memorable meeting +at the Savoy, Ivy Lexton and Miles Rushworth had been constantly +together. It had all been very much above board—indeed, quite as +often as not, Jervis Lexton had been of the company when the two +lunched or dined, went to the play, or, pleasanter still, motored down +to Ranelagh to spend an enchanting evening. +</p> + +<p> +But Rushworth had a definite philosophy of life. To pursue a woman +who, whatever the undercurrents to her life might be, appeared happily +married, would have seemed to him a despicable, as well as a cruel and +unmanly thing to do. Also, he prided himself on being able, when he +chose to do so, to resist temptation, and he felt convinced he could +handle what might become a delicate situation not only with sense, but +even with comfort to himself. This was made the easier to him because +he put Ivy Lexton on a pedestal. God alone knew how he idealised her, +how completely he believed her soul matched her delicately perfect, +ethereal-looking body. +</p> + +<p> +While Ivy was chatting gaily to her companion, she was yet almost +painfully aware of the two who stood talking together in so earnest +and intimate a way. She was feeling what she had never felt in her +life of twenty-six years: that is, bitterly, angrily jealous of a girl +whom she thought stupid, dull, and unattractive. +</p> + +<p> +Miles Rushworth’s attitude to herself disconcerted her. She could not, +to use her own jargon, get the hang of him. It was so strange, in a +sense so disturbing, that he never made love to her. Then, now and +again, she would remember Mrs. Thrawn, and Mrs. Thrawn’s predictions. +</p> + +<p> +She had followed the fortune-teller’s advice with regard to Roger +Gretorex. She had insisted that it would be better for them both +neither to see nor to write to each other till she came back to London +in September; and he had had perforce to agree to her conditions. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +The yacht made Dieppe the next morning, and at breakfast there rose a +discussion as to how the party could spend their time on shore to the +best advantage. Rushworth at once observed that he would not be able +to take part in any expedition ashore. He had received important +business telegrams, and he had a number of letters to dictate to a +stenographer whose services he had already secured. +</p> + +<p> +Miss Chattle, who knew he would value a quiet working day, suggested a +motor expedition to a celebrated shrine a hundred kilometres inland +from Dieppe. She declared that if they started at once they could be +back in comfortable time for dinner. +</p> + +<p> +And then it was that Ivy, as in a lightning flash, made up her mind as +to how she would spend to-day. +</p> + +<p> +“I get so tired motoring, so I’d rather stay behind.” She turned to +her host, “While you’re doing your work, I can take a walk in the +town. Though I’ve been to Paris two or three times, I’ve never been +anywhere else in France.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a good idea! We might meet at the Hotel Royal about one +o’clock, and have lunch together.” +</p> + +<p> +Half an hour later Miss Chattle shepherded the rest of the party into +two roomy cars, while Rushworth escorted Lady Dale and her daughter on +to the quay, where a carriage was waiting for them. +</p> + +<p> +Lady Dale went forward to speak to the driver, and Rushworth turned to +the girl he still intended should be his wife. +</p> + +<p> +“If we don’t meet again before the end of September, I do want just to +say one thing to you, Bella.” +</p> + +<p> +He spoke in so peculiar, and in so very earnest, a tone, that Bella’s +heart began to beat. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it you want to say?” she asked, her voice sinking almost to a +whisper. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve said it before, and now I want to say it again——” +</p> + +<p> +Bella looked at him fixedly. Thank God, she hadn’t betrayed herself. +But what was this he was saying? +</p> + +<p> +“I do want you to make real friends with Mrs. Lexton—I mean, of +course, after you and Lady Dale are back at Hampton Court, when Jervis +Lexton will have begun work in my London office. His wife, poor little +soul, hasn’t any real friends, from what I can make out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet she seems to know a good many people, Miles. When we were looking +through those picture papers yesterday, she seemed to know almost +everyone who had been snapshotted at Goodwood!” +</p> + +<p> +“I was thinking of real friends—not of those stupid gadabouts who are +here, there, and everywhere,” he said with a touch of irritation. +</p> + +<p> +And then they heard Lady Dale’s voice. +</p> + +<p> +“I think we ought to be off, Bella. It’s nearly half-past ten, and you +know they lunch early at the château.” +</p> + +<p> +Rushworth wrung Bella’s hand. “I’m sorry you’ve had to leave the yacht +so soon.” +</p> + +<p> +But his voice had become perceptibly colder. He was disappointed, even +a little hurt. He had always thought his friend Bella not only kind, +but full of sympathy and understanding. Yet she had spoken of his new +friend with a curious lack even of liking, let alone sympathy. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +When Miles Rushworth came back from seeing the Dales off, he found Ivy +Lexton sitting on the now deserted deck. There was a pile of +newspapers on the little table which had been brought up close to her +deck-chair, and she was pretending to read the Paris <i>New York +Herald</i>. Convinced that Miles Rushworth intended to be with her the +whole of the long sunny morning, she was not only surprised, but also +very disappointed, when he said cheerfully: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, lovely lady, I’ve a hard mornin’s work before me, for there’s a +whole pile of letters and telegrams waiting to be answered. Cook’s man +has found me an excellent shorthand writer, so I hope to be through in +a couple of hours.” +</p> + +<p> +Her face suddenly became overcast, and he felt tempted, for a moment, +to throw aside his work. But he resisted the temptation. +</p> + +<p> +“Would you rather laze about here or take a walk and meet me at the +Royal?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go into the town. There are one or two little things I want to +buy. What time shall I be at the hotel?” +</p> + +<p> +He hadn’t meant to meet her till one o’clock. But for once the old +Adam triumphed. +</p> + +<p> +“Let me see? It’s half-past ten now, let’s meet at twelve-thirty. +We’ll have an early French lunch, and then we’ll go for a motor drive, +or do anything else that you feel like doing. From what I can make +out, the others can’t be back till seven, if then.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy waited till she had seen him disappear into the state-room which +was the one retreat on the yacht where Rushworth never asked any of +his guests to join him, and about which they all felt a certain +curiosity. Then she put down the paper she still held in her hand, +and, closing her eyes, she began to think. +</p> + +<p> +What manner of man was this new friend of hers? He must “like” her +surely? “Like” was the ambiguous term Ivy Lexton used to herself when +she meant something very different from “liking.” Yet he had never +said to her the sort of thing that the men she met almost always did +say, and on the shortest acquaintance. Stranger still, he had never +asked anything of her in exchange for what had become considerable and +frequent benefactions. True, Rushworth’s gifts had almost always been +useful gifts. He had never, so to speak, “said it with flowers.” That +had puzzled her a little, made her sometimes wonder as to what his +real feelings could be. Never once—she had made a note of it in her +own mind—had he mentioned Bella Dale during the three weeks when they +had been so much together in London. +</p> + +<p> +So it had been a disagreeable shock to find Lady Dale and her daughter +already established on the yacht, and on the happiest terms of old +friendship with everyone on board. Again and again during the week’s +cruise, Ivy had asked herself anxiously whether Miles Rushworth could +really “like” such a dowdy, matter-of-fact girl as was Miss Dale? Yet +now and again when she saw them together, talking in an intimate, +happy way, and when she heard them alluding to events which had +happened long before she knew Rushworth, there would come over her a +tremor of icy fear, for well she knew that, from her point of view, a +man friend married was a man friend marred. +</p> + +<p> +It was to her a new experience to be in close touch with such a real +worker as was Miles Rushworth. There was nothing in common between him +and the idle, often vicious, and for the most part mindless young men +who drifted in and out of the spendthrift world in which she and +Jervis had both been so popular as long as their money had lasted. +</p> + +<p> +She got up at last, and went into her luxurious state-room to fetch a +parasol. It was a charming costly trifle, matching the blue coat and +skirt she was wearing, but large enough to shelter her face from the +sun. Her quaint little sailor hat, a throw-back to a mode of long ago, +while very becoming, was quite useless from that point of view. +</p> + +<p> +She walked slowly along the deck, hoping against hope that Rushworth +would see her and, leaving his work, join her; but as she passed his +state-room she heard his voice dictating. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +The French of all ages and both sexes are lovers of beauty, so in a +small way Ivy Lexton’s progress through the picturesque old town of +Dieppe was a triumphal progress. Most of the people she passed turned +and looked after her with unaffected admiration and one man—she felt +instinctively that he was some important person—followed her for +quite a long way. But it was very hot, and in time she grew weary of +the crowded streets. Taking as her guides a couple who were carrying +their bathing costumes and towels, she went after them up a shady +by-way and so through the old gateway leading to the wide lawns along +the sea-front, which are the great charm of Dieppe. +</p> + +<p> +What an amusing, lively, delightful place! Against the deep blue sky +rose the white Casino, and the parking place was crowded with serried +rows of motors. Along the front groups of Frenchwomen, for the most +part wearing white coats and skirts, strolled about with their +attendant cavaliers. +</p> + +<p> +Her spirits bounded up; she felt herself to be once more what she had +not felt herself to be at all on Rushworth’s yacht, in her own natural +atmosphere again. And, to add to her satisfaction, she soon spied out +the Hotel Royal, brilliant with flowers and blue and white sun-blinds. +</p> + +<p> +The Angelus chimes rang out from one of the old churches, and the gay +crowd began to move slowly towards the villas and hotels which form +the sea-front side of the incongruously-named Boulevard de Verdun. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy walked into the cool hall of the hotel, and sat down in an easy +chair with a sigh of pleasure. +</p> + +<p> +How she wished she was staying here instead of on the yacht! She +delighted in the atmosphere of gay bustle and care-free wealth and +prosperity of all the happy-looking people who were strolling past her +on their way to the restaurant. She enjoyed the glances of covert, and +in some cases of insolent, admiration thrown her way; in fact she was +kept so well amused that she gave quite a start when she heard +Rushworth’s voice exclaim, “So here you are, little lady! I’ve been +looking for you everywhere. I thought you’d be out of doors.” +</p> + +<p> +She got up, and then he said something which filled her with dismay. +</p> + +<p> +“Among my letters this morning there was one from a very old friend of +mine, a man with whom I worked during the war. He and his wife have a +room in some back street, for they’re not at all well off. So I +thought it would be a good plan to take them for a drive this +afternoon. I felt sure you wouldn’t mind?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course not!” +</p> + +<p> +She felt bitterly disappointed, but she would have been more than +disappointed had she known that Rushworth had deliberately asked these +old friends to join them, in order to put temptation out of his way. +</p> + +<p> +He added, a little quickly, “I felt rather a brute not asking them to +lunch, but I was so looking forward to my lunch alone with you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d been looking forward to it, too,” she said in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +And then there did come across him a sharp, unavailing pang of regret +that he had been so stupidly quixotic, and instantly he made up his +mind that their drive should not last more than two hours. After all, +he and Ivy were both decent people, and dear friends to boot; why +shouldn’t they go back to the yacht to spend a quiet happy hour or +two, alone together, before the others returned? +</p> + +<p> +They had a delicious lunch, the sort of lunch that Ivy enjoyed, in an +airy room full of chattering, merry, prosperous-looking couples. +</p> + +<p> +Then, after they had had coffee, they went out and slowly sauntered to +the little garden at the foot of a great cliff on which stands an +ancient stronghold. It was cool and quiet there, and the only person +with whom they shared the garden was an old lady exercising her +Persian cat on a lead. +</p> + +<p> +They sat down in silence. Rushworth was smoking a cigar, Ivy a +cigarette. Suddenly he threw away his cigar, for there had come over +him a wild, mad impulse to put his arms round her. But, instead, he +moved a little farther away. +</p> + +<p> +She, too, suddenly flung away her cigarette, and turned to him, “I +sometimes wonder, Mr. Rushworth, if you know how awfully grateful I am +to you for all you’ve done for me—and for Jervis.” +</p> + +<p> +He saw that tears were in her eyes, and he took her hand and clasped +it closely. He was saying to himself, “Poor little darling, it would +be the act of a cad, of a cur, to take advantage of her gratitude +and—and loneliness.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve nothing to be grateful for,” he said quietly, and then he +released the soft hand he held. “It’s a great privilege to meet +someone who really deserves a little help. A man who is known to have +money is there to be shot at,” he smiled a little grimly. “Any number +of what are called deserving objects are presented to his view. The +real problem is to find the people who want helping, and who won’t ask +for help.” +</p> + +<p> +He sincerely believed that the woman to whom he was addressing those +words fell within that rare category. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly he got up. “I see the Actons,” he exclaimed. “I told them +three o’clock in front of the Casino—they’re a little before their +time.” +</p> + +<p> +It was a wonderful drive to Tréport, and Ivy, rather to her own +surprise, enjoyed it. Partly, perhaps, because Rushworth’s old friend, +James Acton, “fell for” her at once, to the amusement of his +good-humoured, clever, middle-aged wife. They stopped at the Trianon +Hotel on their way back and had some early tea; but even so it was +only five o’clock when they returned to Dieppe and dropped the Actons. +</p> + +<p> +Dismissing the car, they began walking towards the harbour. At +last—at last they were alone. +</p> + +<p> +In the Grande Rue Ivy stopped, instinctively, before a minute shop, a +branch of a famous house of the same name at Cannes and Deauville. +</p> + +<p> +The window contained but one object, to Rushworth’s masculine eyes a +rather absurd-looking trifle, for it consisted of a lady’s vanity bag +which looked like a tiny bolster of mother-of-pearl. The clasp +consisted of a large emerald set with pearls. +</p> + +<p> +“What a lovely little bag!” exclaimed Ivy ecstatically. +</p> + +<p> +“D’you like it?” Rushworth was filled with a kind of tender amusement. +What a baby she was, after all! +</p> + +<p> +“Like it? I adore it!” +</p> + +<p> +“Then I’ll give it you—for next Christmas!” +</p> + +<p> +“You mustn’t! It must be fearfully expensive,” she cried. +</p> + +<p> +But he had already gone into the shop. With something like awe, she +watched him from the pavement shovelling out bundles of thousand franc +notes on to the narrow counter behind which stood a white-haired +woman. +</p> + +<p> +How rich, how enormously rich Miles Rushworth must be! +</p> + +<p> +As he joined her, Ivy saw that the precious bag was now enclosed in a +soft leather case which had evidently been made for its protection. He +put his delightful gift into her eager hands, and said, smiling: +</p> + +<p> +“The elegant old dame in there—she looked like a marquise +herself—declares that the clasp of this bag was once a brooch +belonging to the Princesse de Lamballe, Marie Antoinette’s friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“How wonderful!” +</p> + +<p> +He looked at her quizzically, “I said I hoped it wouldn’t bring you +bad luck! She quite understood the allusion,” which was more than Ivy +did. +</p> + +<p> +“It was made, it seems, to the order of a lady who supplied the jewel +for the clasp. She’s suddenly gone into mourning, and as they had made +it they consented to try and sell it for her. It was being sent on to +their Deauville branch this very afternoon. It’s been here a week, and +the old lady admitted that she hadn’t had a single inquiry for it!” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy had now opened the case and taken out the wonderful little bag, +her eyes dancing with pleasure and gratitude. She told herself with +satisfaction, that, given the right kind of frock, she could use it by +day as well as by night. +</p> + +<p> +There was a very practical, shrewd side to Mrs. Jervis Lexton. But it +was a side of her nature which she was slow to reveal to her men +friends. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +As they went on board the yacht a telegram was handed to Rushworth. +Carelessly he tore it open, read it through, and then handed it to his +guest: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +Tremendous affair taking place here to-morrow midday. French President +unveiling monument to fallen. We propose staying the night in +excellent hotel. Shall be back by tea-time. +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +<span class="sc">Charlotte Chattle</span>. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Ivy looked up. There was joy in Rushworth’s face—and more than joy, +for the eager, half-shamed look Ivy had so often seen on a man’s face +was there also. But all he said was: +</p> + +<p> +“This means that we shall have a quiet little dinner alone together, +you and I.” +</p> + +<p> +“That will be very nice,” she answered quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve a good deal more work to get through so shall we say half-past +eight? We might have dinner in what I call my sea-study. I always dine +there, when I’m alone on the yacht.” +</p> + +<p> +Just as she was leaving him, she turned and said gently: +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you think you ought to have a little rest after all the work +you did this morning? Why not wait till to-morrow?” +</p> + +<p> +There was such a sweet solicitude in the tone in which she uttered +those words that Rushworth felt touched. +</p> + +<p> +“Work’s the only thing that makes time go by quickly,” he answered, +and then, in a low, ardent tone, he added, “When I’m not with you, I’d +far rather be working than idling——” +</p> + +<p> +A sensation of intense, secret triumph swept over Ivy Lexton. She felt +that the gateless barrier Miles Rushworth had thrown up between them +was giving way at last. To-night would surely come her opportunity of +lifting their ambiguous relationship from the dull plane of friendship +to the exciting plane of what she called love. +</p> + +<p> +She turned away, and then, a moment later, she stayed her steps, and +looked back to where he was still standing.… +</p> + +<p> +Small wonder that during the three hours that followed that informal +parting, Rushworth, while mechanically dictating business letters, was +gazing inwardly at a lovely vision—an exquisite flower-like face and +beseeching, beckoning eyes. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch04"> +Chapter Four +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">When Ivy came</span> out of her state-room at half-past eight, the great +heat of the day had gone, and old Dieppe harbour was bathed in a +mysterious, enchanting twilight. She had put on to-night a white +chiffon frock which made her look childishly young, and, as she +floated wraithlike down the deck towards him, Rushworth caught his +breath. +</p> + +<p> +He had been waiting for her—he would have been ashamed to acknowledge +to himself for how long, though he knew that she was never late. +Jervis had no sense of time, but punctuality was one of Ivy’s virtues. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid you’ll think my sea-study rather austere!” +</p> + +<p> +“Austere?” +</p> + +<p> +His lovely friend hardly knew the meaning of this, to her unusual, +word. Eagerly she walked through into what was the floating workshop +of a very busy man, though something had been done this evening to +disguise its real character. Two great bowls of variously coloured +roses stood on the writing-table; and in the centre of the state-room +was a small table set for two. On an Italian plate in the centre of +the table was heaped up some fine fruit. +</p> + +<p> +“How delicious!” She clapped her hands. “Who would ever think we were +on board a ship?” +</p> + +<p> +“You are the first guest of mine who has ever come through this door.” +</p> + +<p> +He longed to tell her, he wanted her to know, that she held a place +apart from any other human being in his life. +</p> + +<p> +“How about Miss Chattle?” +</p> + +<p> +“Charlotte least of all! Once she was free of this room, I should +never be able to get her out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not Miss Dale even?” +</p> + +<p> +The colour rushed into Rushworth’s sunburnt face, and Ivy noted it +with a jealous pang, as he answered more gravely, “No, not even Bella. +I made up my mind—and I’m a man who once he has made up his mind, +well, sticks to it—that this state-room should be my bolt-hole, as +well as my study. It’s understood by everyone on board that when I’m +in here, I won’t be disturbed.” +</p> + +<p> +He pointed to a telephone instrument. “If the yacht catches fire, my +skipper has permission to ring me up.” +</p> + +<p> +The short dinner was served well and quickly by Rushworth’s own +steward; but neither of the two felt in the mood for talking in the +presence of even the most unobtrusive third. Each was longing, +consciously longing, to be alone with the other. +</p> + +<p> +During that half hour when he had been waiting for her, aching for +her, Miles Rushworth had faced up to the fact that he was madly in +love with Ivy Lexton, and that he would give everything he valued most +in the world to have her for his own. +</p> + +<p> +But his passion for another man’s wife—so again and again he assured +himself—was of an exalted, noble, and spiritual quality. Never would +he allow that passion to become earthly. He admitted, at long last, +that, as regarded his own peace of mind, he had been unwise to see as +much of Ivy as he had done in London. But he had dreamt, fool that he +had been, of a friendship which should be prolonged even after his +marriage to another woman. During those three weeks he had also +thought often of the girl whom he meant to make his wife. Ivy should +be his friend and Bella’s friend—their dear, dear friend. +</p> + +<p> +But since they had all come together on his yacht Rushworth had had a +rude awakening. He knew now that Bella Dale was his dear, dear friend, +but Ivy Lexton was the woman he loved. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +At last dinner, which had seemed to them both intolerably long, was +over. +</p> + +<p> +“Would you like coffee served on deck?” asked Rushworth. +</p> + +<p> +But before Ivy could answer, the steward intervened. “It’s just begun +to rain, sir,” and as he said the word “rain,” there came a flash of +lightning, followed by a peal of thunder. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy’s host turned to her. “We shall have to stay here, unless you’d +rather go into the saloon?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’d rather stay here,” she said in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I pull down the blind, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“You may as well.” +</p> + +<p> +In a minute the man brought in coffee, and then they heard him running +along the deck through the pelting rain. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy’s hand lay on the table. She looked at it—her fingers were +twitching. She felt, with joy and triumph, the tenseness of the +atmosphere between them, and, for the first time, something in her +responded to Rushworth’s still voiceless passion. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t want any coffee,” she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“Neither do I.” +</p> + +<p> +They both rose. He looked across at her. “You’ll find that sofa over +there comfortable, I think.” +</p> + +<p> +He uttered the commonplace words in a strained, preoccupied tone. The +summer storm outside seemed at one with him, shutting them off from +the world. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy walked across to the little couch, which was just large enough for +two, and, after a perceptible moment of hesitation, he followed her. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment he stood silently gazing down into her upturned face. +Then he began moving forward a chair. +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t you sit down here, by me?” she asked, looking at him with her +dovelike eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I? Is there room?” +</p> + +<p> +“Plenty of room,” she said tremulously. +</p> + +<p> +As he sat down, there came another vivid flash of lightning, followed +by a peal of thunder louder than the one before. +</p> + +<p> +He turned quickly to her: “You’re not frightened, are you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I am—a little.” +</p> + +<p> +And then all at once she was in his arms, and he was murmuring low, +passionate words of endearment and of reassurance between each long, +trembling, clinging kiss. +</p> + +<p> +How he loved her! And how wonderful to know that she, poor darling, +loved him too. He felt as may feel a man who, after wandering for days +in the desert, suddenly comes on an oasis and a cool stream. +</p> + +<p> +But even now, when every barrier between them seemed miraculously +broken down, Rushworth kept a certain measure of control over himself. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m going to pull up the blind and put out the light,” he whispered +at last. +</p> + +<p> +A moment later they were in darkness, though now and again a vivid +flash of lightning illuminated the harbour through sheets of blinding, +torrential rain. +</p> + +<p> +He strode back to the little couch, and sank down again by her; but he +resisted the aching longing to take her once more into his arms. +Instead he took her soft hand in his, while he muttered in a broken +voice, “I’ve been a brute! You must forgive me.” +</p> + +<p> +She answered in a stifled voice, “There is nothing to forgive.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been to blame all through!” +</p> + +<p> +Then, in a tone he strove to lighten, “I ought to have labelled you +‘dangerous’ from the first moment I saw you.” +</p> + +<p> +She melted into tears, and remorsefully he whispered, “Have I hurt you +by saying that?” +</p> + +<p> +She shook her head; but she pulled her hand away. +</p> + +<p> +“Listen, Ivy?” +</p> + +<p> +It was the first time Miles Rushworth had called her by her name, and +for that, Jervis, poor fool, had thought him old-fashioned and +over-formal. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she whispered submissively. +</p> + +<p> +“We’ve got to talk this out—you and I.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she said again, wondering what he meant by those strange words, +and longing, consciously, even exultantly, longing, for him to take +her again in his strong arms. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll begin by telling you something I’ve never told to any living +being.” +</p> + +<p> +He uttered those words in so serious a tone that Ivy felt a thrill of +fear, of doubt, go through her. Had he a woman in his life whom he +would not, or could not, give up? +</p> + +<p> +“I was twenty when my father died, and before his death we had a long +private talk. Quite at the end of our talk, he made me give him a +solemn promise.” +</p> + +<p> +Rushworth stopped a moment. He was remembering what had been the most +moving passage up to now in his thirty-five years of life. It was as +if he heard the very tones of his father’s firm, if feeble, voice. +</p> + +<p> +“At the time my promise seemed easy to keep. Indeed, I was surprised +he thought it necessary to exact it.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was your promise?” Ivy whispered, and she came a little, only a +little, nearer to him. +</p> + +<p> +“My promise was never to allow myself to fall in love with a married +woman. Though it hasn’t always been as easy as I thought it would be, +till now I have kept that promise. But now I’ve broken it, for I love +you. Love you? Why I adore you, my darling——” +</p> + +<p> +Again he waited, and Ivy felt oppressed, bewildered. Many men had said +that they adored her. But no man had made that delightful, exciting +admission, without showing strong apparent emotion. +</p> + +<p> +Rushworth had uttered the words calmly, collectedly, and staring +straight before him. +</p> + +<p> +“And I can’t help myself—that’s the rub,” he went on, in the same +matter-of-fact voice. “Indeed, I’m afraid I’m going to go on loving +you all my life,” he smiled a rueful smile in the soft darkness which +encompassed them. +</p> + +<p> +“But of course I knew, even then, when I was a cub of twenty, what my +father really meant. There is a part of my promise to him I can keep; +and what’s more—by God, I intend to keep it!” +</p> + +<p> +She was moved, thrown off her usual calculating balance, by the +strength of his sincerity, and also made afraid. +</p> + +<p> +“What d’you mean?” she faltered. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s true that I love you—I didn’t know there could be such love in +the world as that which I feel for you, Ivy. If it would do you any +good for me to jump into that harbour out there and be drowned, I’d do +it! But I’m going to keep my love for you sacred, and I’m going not +only to save myself, but I’m going to save you, my darling, darling +love.” +</p> + +<p> +He took her hand again, and this time he kissed it. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy burst into bitter tears, and Rushworth put his arm around her. +</p> + +<p> +“I know how you’re feeling,” he whispered brokenly. “My poor little +darling! But for God’s sake don’t cry. I can’t bear it. You’ve nothing +to be ashamed of—it’s been all my fault.” +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t we go on being friends? It’s been so wonderful having you for a +friend!” she sobbed. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course we’ll go on being friends—dear, dear friends. But +lovers—no! I’m going right away—it’s the only thing to do.” +</p> + +<p> +He was telling himself that of course she did not understand—how +could she, gentle and pure if yet passionate creature that she +was?—the strength of his temptation. She would never know, indeed, he +must never allow her to know, what she meant to him, and all he was +about to give up for her sake. A sweet, loving wife, children, in a +word, a happy, normal life—all that Bella Dale had stood for in the +secret places of his heart. +</p> + +<p> +He was brought back to the present by her agitated, agonised, “Going +away? Surely you’re not going away, now?” +</p> + +<p> +He waited a moment without answering her. A frightful struggle was +going on in his heart, his conscience. Then, at last, he answered the, +to him, piteous question. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you remember my once telling you of my sister? Of how I longed for +you to know her—but that she was too ill for me to take you to her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she murmured, trying to remember. +</p> + +<p> +She had not been really interested, only secretly glad that +Rushworth’s widowed sister was not well enough to see her. Ivy Lexton +did not care to be brought in contact with her men friends’ mothers or +sisters. They never liked her, and she never liked them. +</p> + +<p> +“My sister saw a new specialist this week, and he says she ought to +winter in South Africa. She’s horribly lonely—her husband was killed +in the war, and—and now I’ve made up my mind to go with her. You do +agree that it’s the best thing—indeed, the only thing for me to do?” +</p> + +<p> +There was something in his tone as he uttered the question that made +her feel that, for the moment, at any rate, no plea would move him. +</p> + +<p> +“I hate your going so far away,” she moaned. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s the only thing to do,” he repeated in a hard tone. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid you despise me,” she said very low. +</p> + +<p> +“Despise you? Good God! I honour you——” +</p> + +<p> +And then all at once she was again in his arms. +</p> + +<p> +Moved out of her false selfish self by the strength and reality of his +emotion, “I love you,” she murmured, clinging to him between their +kisses. “I shall always love you,” and believed she spoke the truth. +</p> + +<p> +Surely, surely, he wouldn’t go away now? +</p> + +<p> +The door opened, and in the darkness they sprang apart. +</p> + +<p> +“The hotel has sent the car for you, sir. It is now on the quay.” +</p> + +<p> +“The car?” +</p> + +<p> +A feeling of surprise and despondency swept over Ivy. +</p> + +<p> +Rushworth got up. For a moment or two, it seemed like eternity to him, +he found he could not speak. +</p> + +<p> +Then he said, “I’m afraid I must go now, Mrs. Lexton. I’m sleeping at +the Hotel Royal to-night. A business friend of mine is staying there, +and we are going to have a talk before turning in. He is going to +Paris to-morrow morning.” +</p> + +<p> +Addressing his servant: “I’ll be coming in a minute. The storm’s over, +isn’t it?” he added. +</p> + +<p> +“I think it is, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then put on the light again, and take the despatch-box that’s over +there on my writing-table to the car.” +</p> + +<p> +Rushworth waited till the sounds of footsteps on the deck outside had +grown faint. Then he came back to Ivy, but he had once more regained +possession of himself. +</p> + +<p> +“I want to tell you, now, what I didn’t mean to tell you till the last +day of our trip. Some cousins of mine have a charming flat in the Duke +of Kent Mansion, close to Kensington Gardens. They want to let it for +six months, and I’ve just taken it in the hope that you and your +husband will live there till you have found something you like +better.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’re too good to me.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked crushed, defeated, humiliated. +</p> + +<p> +“Ivy! My precious darling——” the yearning cry escaped him. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly she lifted her head, and her eyes, swimming in tears, her +trembling mouth, longing for his kisses, beckoned. +</p> + +<p> +He leapt forward, and she fell upon his breast. “Must you go away? I +don’t know how I shall live without you,” she sobbed. +</p> + +<p> +As at last he tore himself from her arms, “Oh God,” he exclaimed. “If +only you were free!” +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch05"> +Chapter Five +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">Look at</span> lucky Olive Larnoch. A month ago she didn’t know where to +turn for sixpence!” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy Lexton, and one of her young married women friends, Janet Horley, +were lunching together at the Embassy Club. +</p> + +<p> +Every place in the great room was occupied. At the next table an +American diplomat was being lunched by one of the younger Ministers of +the Crown; and close by a popular actor-manager was entertaining a +pretty young duchess. Two sisters, who had just leapt into musical +comedy fame, were laughing at the top of their voices, while being +gaily chaffed by their host, an elderly peer who had entertained two +generations of charming women by the daring quality of his wit. +</p> + +<p> +Olive Larnoch? Ivy gazed eagerly across at a couple sitting at right +angles from where she sat herself. +</p> + +<p> +“Look at her string of pearls studded with huge diamonds! They’re all +real!” went on Mrs. Horley excitedly. “As for the emerald Jock Larnoch +gave her the day they became engaged, it’s worth five thousand +pounds——” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure I’ve seen her before,” exclaimed Ivy. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course you must have often seen her, in the old days, when she was +Olive Ryde, a war widow without a bob——” +</p> + +<p> +“—and a stocking-shop in North Bolton Street?” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve got it in one! And her stockings always laddered, too. Well, +one evening, she met a Scotch man of business here at the Embassy, +named Jock Larnoch. He’d never been in a night-club before, so I +suppose it went to his head! I happen to know the people who brought +him here, and the funny thing is that they hadn’t an idea he was made +of money. They just thought him comfortably off. Yet his first +love-gift to Olive was a Baby Rolls—she didn’t know what to do with +it, poor dear!” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy gazed with absorbed interest at the fortunate bride of the Scotch +millionaire. How marvellous it must be to have everything one wants, +including an adoring husband! She sighed a quick, bitter little secret +sigh. The sight of this fortunate young woman had brought back to her +poignant memories and a sudden realisation of what her life might be +now, had she been, a few weeks ago, what Miles Rushworth called +“free.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is that nice-looking man her spouse?” +</p> + +<p> +“Heavens, no! That’s Bob Crickle, who wrote the book of <i>T’wee-t’we</i>. +Jock Larnoch spends every other week ‘at the works’; there never was +such a lucky girl as Olive!” +</p> + +<p> +Again, with a sensation almost of despair, Ivy thought of Rushworth, +and of all that he might have meant in her life by now if he hadn’t +been so—so old-fashioned and queer in his ideas. +</p> + +<p> +The Lextons had been settled down in London for nearly two months, and +Jervis was going to Rushworth’s City office each morning. As for Ivy, +she was once more a popular member of the happy-go-lucky, while for +the most part financially solid, set with whom she had danced, played +bridge, lunched, and supped through life, in the days when she and her +husband were still living on what remained of Jervis’s fortune. +</p> + +<p> +But woman does not live by amusement alone. Ivy loved being loved, so +she had “made it up” with Roger Gretorex. +</p> + +<p> +Rushworth was far away, and though he wrote to her by every mail, his +letters, as she sometimes pettishly told herself, might have been read +aloud at Charing Cross. So it was that, though she had really done +with Gretorex, she still went, now and again, to Ferry Place, but far +less often than in the days when she had been utterly down on her +luck, and at odds with Fate. +</p> + +<p> +And yet, though the Lextons’ troubles seemed over, black care was +again beginning to dog Ivy’s light footsteps, for she was once more +what she called, to herself, very hard up. +</p> + +<p> +True, the couple were now living in what appeared to Ivy’s husband +extreme comfort, and even luxury. Not only was their flat one of the +best in the fine block called the Duke of Kent Mansion, charmingly +furnished; but an excellent cook, and a good day-maid had been left +there by Miles Rushworth’s cousins. So what might have been called the +Lextons’ home-life ran as if on wheels. +</p> + +<p> +From the moment, however, that Ivy had come back to London, secure in +the knowledge that her husband was now earning a thousand pounds a +year, paid monthly, she had again fallen into the way of buying, or, +better still, of ordering on account, any pretty costly trifle, any +becoming frock or hat, that took her fancy. She also, in a way that +seemed modest to herself, had at once begun to entertain. +</p> + +<p> +It was such fun to give lively little luncheon parties to her women +friends—lunch being followed as often as not by bridge! One, +sometimes even two, bridge tables would be set out in the attractive +drawing-room and, in due course, a bountiful tea would be served by +the smiling day-maid, for those of Ivy’s guests who were not afraid of +getting fat. +</p> + +<p> +The good-natured old cook had not been used to so much work, and she +had very soon declared, not unreasonably, that she must have extra +help in the kitchen. +</p> + +<p> +Lexton, who was rather pathetically anxious “to make good,” always +went down to the City each morning by the Underground. But he came +back by omnibus, and he invariably dropped in at his club on his way +home, and, as he was an open-hearted fellow, he often asked one of his +new business acquaintances to drop in too. That, also, meant +entertaining, but on a far more modest scale than that in which Ivy +indulged. +</p> + +<p> +Though Mrs. Jervis Lexton had learnt long ago the fine art of living +on credit, there are a great many things which even in London a +prosperous young couple with a good address cannot obtain, as it were, +for nothing. Each week many pounds slipped through pretty, popular +Ivy’s fingers, and she honestly could not have told you how or why. So +it was inevitable that she should again begin to feel short of +money—short, even, of petty cash. +</p> + +<p> +Often she told herself that it was maddening to feel that if Rushworth +were in England she could almost certainly have had all the money she +needed, and that without too great a sacrifice of her pride, or, what +was far more important, his good opinion of her. Just before leaving +for South Africa he had given her a hundred pounds as “a birthday +gift.” How good he was, how generous! Her heart thrilled with real +gratitude when she thought of Miles Rushworth. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +Late in the same day that his wife had lunched at the Embassy Club, +Lexton, who was going out to what he called a stag party that evening, +came back from the City to find an unpleasantly threatening letter, +this time from a tailor to whom he had owed for years a huge bill, and +who had evidently just heard of his new-found prosperity. +</p> + +<p> +For once Ivy’s husband looked ruffled and cross, and she, also for +once, felt very angry indeed. Jervis had begun, so she told herself +with rage, to put on airs, just because he had a job—a job that she +was too clever and tactful ever to remind him was entirely owing to +her friendship with his employer. +</p> + +<p> +At last he left the flat and, with a feeling of relief, she went off, +too, by omnibus, to the tiny house where Roger Gretorex lived and +practised his profession. It was in what might have been called a +slum, though each of the mid-Victorian, two-storied, cottage-like +dwellings were now inhabited by decent working people and their +families. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy had not been to No. 6 Ferry Place for nearly a fortnight, and her +lover had written her a long, reproachful letter, imploring her to +come and see him there, if for only a few moments. It made him feel so +wretched, so he wrote, never to see her now, except in the company of +people and in surroundings which filled him with contemptuous dislike, +or, in a sense worse still, only in the presence of her husband. +</p> + +<p> +When everything was going well with Ivy Lexton, she felt bored, often +even irritated, with Roger Gretorex and his great love for her. But +the moment she was under the weather and worried, as she was again +beginning to be, then she found it a comfort to be with a man who not +only worshipped her, but who never wanted her to make any effort to +amuse or flatter him, as did all the other men with whom she was now +once more thrown in contact. +</p> + +<p> +So it was that this late afternoon, immediately after Jervis had left +the flat, she telephoned and told the enraptured Gretorex that as she +happened to have this evening free, she would come and have dinner +with him at Ferry Place. +</p> + +<p> +And yet, as she sat in the almost empty omnibus on her way to +Westminster, her heart and her imagination were full of Miles +Rushworth, and not once did she even throw a fleeting thought to the +man she was going to see. Gretorex had become to Ivy Lexton what she +had once heard a friend of hers funnily describe as a kind of +“Stepney” to her husband. Sometimes she felt that she really preferred +Jervis to Roger. Jervis was so kindly, easygoing, unexacting. +</p> + +<p> +Still to-night she felt cross with Jervis, because of the scrap they +had had over the tailor’s bill, so the thought of secret revenge was +sweet. +</p> + +<p> +But the image securely throned in her inmost heart was that of Miles +Rushworth. +</p> + +<p> +The knowledge that Rushworth, a man possessed of great, to her +imagination limitless, wealth, was loving her, longing for her, and +yet, owing to his oversensitive, absurdly scrupulous, conscience, +hopelessly out of her reach, awoke in Ivy Lexton a feeling of fierce, +passionate exasperation. +</p> + +<p> +At last she stepped lightly out of the omnibus, the conductor, and an +old gentleman who had been her only fellow-passenger, eagerly +assisting her. She smiled at them both. Even the most trifling tribute +to her beauty always gave her a touch of genuine pleasure. She was +looking very pretty to-night in a charming frock, and in her hand she +held the curious little bolster bag which Rushworth had bought for her +at Dieppe. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +Eight o’clock boomed from Big Ben, and Roger Gretorex, his arm round +Ivy’s shoulder, led her into the tiny dining-room, where had been +prepared in haste an attractive little meal. She had been what the man +who loved her with so devoted and absorbing a passion, called “kind,” +and he felt happy and at peace. +</p> + +<p> +After they had finished dinner they sat on at table for a while, and, +as she looked across at him, Ivy told herself that her lover was +indeed a splendid-looking man—a man many a woman would envy her. +</p> + +<p> +“Sometimes,” he said in a low voice, “I dream such a wonderful dream, +my dearest. I dreamt it last night——” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him roguishly. “Tell me your dream!” +</p> + +<p> +“I dreamt that you were free, and that we were married, you and I——” +</p> + +<p> +She made no answer to that remark, only shook her head, a little +pettishly. For one thing, she always felt a trifle cross, as well as +bored, when Gretorex talked in what she called to herself a sloppy, +sentimental way. Could he seriously suppose that, if she had the good +fortune to be what he called “free,” she would marry a +poverty-stricken doctor who was forced to live and work in a slum? He +evidently did suppose that; and the fact that he did so made her feel +uncomfortable. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t set out to be particularly good, Roger, but I do think it +awfully wrong to talk like that!” +</p> + +<p> +He said slowly, “I agree, it is.” +</p> + +<p> +“It makes me feel I oughtn’t to come and see you like this, in your +own house. Jervis would be very much put out if he knew I ever came +here.” +</p> + +<p> +Gretorex, wincing inwardly, made no answer to that observation. +Sometimes this woman, who was all his life, would say something that +made him experience a violent feeling of recoil. +</p> + +<p> +She had got up as she spoke, and with a sensation of relief she put on +her hat. It was still early, and she had suddenly remembered an +amusing bachelor girl named Judy Swinston, who lived not far from +here, in Queen Anne’s Mansions. Judy had said that she was always at +home after dinner on Thursdays, so why shouldn’t she, Ivy, go along +there now? She could telephone from a call office to find out if it +was really true that the Bohemian crowd who formed Judy Swinston’s +circle didn’t bother to dress. +</p> + +<p> +In some ways Ivy Lexton was very conventional. She would have disliked +making part of any gathering which could be called a party, in her +present day-frock and walking shoes, charming as were both the frock +and the shoes. It was a perfect St. Martin’s summer evening, more like +June than the first of November. +</p> + +<p> +“You’re not going yet?” asked Gretorex, in a tone almost of anguish. +</p> + +<p> +“Jervis said he’d try and be back by half-past ten, so I knew I’d have +to be home early.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see. All right. You won’t mind my walking with you a little way?” +</p> + +<p> +And then she turned and faced him, angry at his obtuseness. How +utterly selfish men were! +</p> + +<p> +“I should mind—mind very much indeed! Whenever we’ve left the place +together, I’ve always felt uncomfortable. Taxis go all sorts of ways +nowadays—just to make their fares bigger, I suppose. The other day a +taxi brought Jervis and me down close here, past the end of this +street, though it was quite out of our way. I should hate it, if he +met us walking together at this time of night. He would think it so +queer.” +</p> + +<p> +Again he said sorely, “I see. All right.” +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly there came the sound of raucous cries echoing down Ferry +Place. +</p> + +<p> +“… Verdict in the Branksome Case.… All the winners!” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought they weren’t allowed to cry papers now?” said Ivy, as the +shouts drew nearer and nearer. +</p> + +<p> +“They cry them down here. As for the Branksome Case, to my mind the +verdict is a foregone conclusion. The man will hang, and they’ll let +the woman off—though she ought to hang too!” +</p> + +<p> +“A lot of people were talking about the Branksome mystery where I was +lunching to-day,” exclaimed Ivy. “I knew nothing about it, so I felt +rather a fool. The truth is, I’m not a bit interested in murders, +Roger. I think it’s morbid to want to know about such things.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you, darling? Then I’m afraid I’m morbid. This Branksome Case is +of peculiar interest to every medical man, owing to the simple fact +that there is a great deal of secret poisoning going on nowadays.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a horrid idea!” And Ivy Lexton did indeed think it very horrid. +</p> + +<p> +“Horrid, no doubt. But I’m afraid unquestionably true. In fact I heard +the question put only the other day, as to what a doctor ought to do +if he suspects anything of the sort is going on?” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him with a certain curiosity. “What would you do, +Roger?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve never been able to make up my mind. Of course, this Branksome +story was complicated by the fact that two were in it—a husband and a +wife. They’d got everything they could out of the woman’s lover, so +they made up their minds to do away with him. They were awfully +clever, and it’s a marvel they were ever found out.” +</p> + +<p> +“How did they do it?” she asked, eager at last. +</p> + +<p> +“With arsenic—fly papers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Fly papers?” +</p> + +<p> +He laughed. “Wonderful what people will do sometimes, isn’t it? +Steeping fly papers in water has long been a common way of ridding +oneself of a tiresome husband. There’s arsenic in almost everything we +use—at least, that’s what’s said.” +</p> + +<p> +“Arsenic?” Ivy pronounced the word very carefully. It was a new word +in her limited vocabulary. +</p> + +<p> +He smiled across at her. Every moment of her presence was precious to +him, so he talked on, eager too. “There’s plenty of the stuff in my +surgery, at any rate. It’s a splendid tonic, as well as a poison.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a funny thing!” and she smiled at him, apparently rather amused +at the notion. +</p> + +<p> +Looking back, for even Ivy Lexton looked back now and again to certain +crucial moments of her life, she realised it must have been at that +very moment that a certain as yet vague and formless plan slipped into +her mind. +</p> + +<p> +“As a matter of fact,” Gretorex smiled back at her, “I’ve got to make +up and send off this very evening a mixture which will contain +arsenic——” +</p> + +<p> +“I must be off now,” Ivy said, a thought regretfully. +</p> + +<p> +They walked down the short passage, and through the two doors which +separated the house from the surgery. Once there he turned up the +light. Anything—anything to keep her a few moments longer in his +company! +</p> + +<p> +He went quickly across from the door to the left corner of the bare, +low-ceilinged room, now his surgery, which had once been an outhouse. +There he unlocked the cupboard where he kept his dangerous drugs, and +lifted down a jar on which was printed on a red label the word +“<span class="sc">Arsenic</span>.” Placing it on a deal table above which was a hanging +bookcase, he exclaimed, “If you would like to see, darling, what——” +</p> + +<p> +And then there came a thunderous knock at the front door of the tiny +house. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait one moment! Don’t go yet, dearest,” he said hastily. “I won’t be +a minute!” +</p> + +<p> +He rushed away, though even in his haste he did not forget to shut +both the doors which separated the surgery from the rest of the house. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy Lexton gave a quick look round the sordid-looking stone-flagged +walled space, through which her eager little feet had so often carried +her last winter, at a time when she had been in love, really in love, +with Roger Gretorex. +</p> + +<p> +She noted that there was no blind to the little square window. But, +even in the unlikely event of anyone looking in through that window, +no one standing outside could see, while she stood by the table, what +she was doing, or was about to do. +</p> + +<p> +Standing very still, she listened. From the consulting-room at the +other end of the passage there came the sound of voices, raised in +argument. +</p> + +<p> +Hesitatingly she took up the jar Gretorex had placed on the table. +Then she looked at it with avid curiosity. How strange and exciting to +know that Death was in that jar—prisoned, but ready to escape and +become the servant of any quick-witted, determined human being. +</p> + +<p> +When, at last, she put the jar down again, she noticed what she had +not seen till now, that a glass spoon lay on the table. +</p> + +<p> +Once more she looked round the bare surgery. Once more she listened +intently, only to hear again Gretorex’s voice, far away, raised in +argument. +</p> + +<p> +All at once and in feverish haste she began unscrewing the top of the +jar. Once this was achieved, she pressed the jewelled top of her +bolster bag, and as it sprang open, she took her powder puff out of +its <i>pochette</i>. Then, taking the glass spoon off the table, with its +help she began shaking into the little white leather-lined pocket a +quantity of the powder which she knew to be a deadly poison. +</p> + +<p> +After snapping-to the bag, she replaced its cap on the jar labelled +“Arsenic” and screwed it tight. Then she stepped back from the table a +little way, and stood quite still, thinking of what she had just done. +</p> + +<p> +Why had she done that—to herself she called it “funny” thing? Deep in +her heart she knew quite well the answer to her own wordless question. +But she did not admit her purpose, even to herself. +</p> + +<p> +All at once she heard sounds just behind her—the sounds made by +slippered, shuffling feet. +</p> + +<p> +Filled with a sudden shock of sick terror, she turned slowly round to +see Roger Gretorex’s old charwoman, Mrs. Huntley, standing uncertainly +in the middle of the room. +</p> + +<p> +The woman had evidently let herself in from the back alley with a +latchkey. But how long had she been here? And how much had she seen? +</p> + +<p> +“Why, Mrs. Huntley,” said Ivy in a shaken voice. “You did startle me!” +</p> + +<p> +“Did I, ma’am? I beg your pardon, I’m sure. I just come in to see if +the doctor wanted anything,” the old woman spoke in a pleasant, +refined voice. +</p> + +<p> +“He’ll be here in a minute——” +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t disturb him now, ma’am. I’ll come in later.” +</p> + +<p> +Opening the door through which she had entered, she slipped through it +into the gathering darkness. Then she shut the door noiselessly behind +her. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy moved again close to the deal table. She felt violently disturbed, +even terrified. Yet the old woman had looked absolutely placid, though +a little taken aback at finding a lady where she had expected to see +nobody, excepting maybe her employer, and him only if he were engaged +in making up medicines. +</p> + +<p> +Hardly knowing what she was doing, Ivy Lexton glanced up at the row of +books in the shabby little bookcase above the table by which she was +standing, and she saw that among them was one entitled, “Poisons.” +</p> + +<p> +She was just about to take it down when she heard quick footsteps in +the short passage, and Gretorex opened the surgery door. +</p> + +<p> +“I won’t be more than a few moments now! You will stay, my dearest, +won’t you, till I’ve done with this chap?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I will. Don’t hurry,” she answered, in a soft, kindly tone. +</p> + +<p> +She took down the book and hurriedly she turned to the index. +</p> + +<p> +Yes! Here was the word she sought. There were a number of +references—half a dozen at least—and she turned up, “Effects of +Arsenic; page 154.” +</p> + +<p> +A famous case of secret poisoning was quoted, with every detail set +out, and she read it with intense, absorbed interest. It told her what +she had so much wanted to know, and feared to ask Roger Gretorex, how +a secret poisoner went to work, and also how long the process took +before—before—even to herself she did not end the question.… +</p> + +<p> +As she put the volume back on the bookshelf her mind travelled into +the future—the now possible, now probable, future. +</p> + +<p> +Standing there, in Gretorex’s barely furnished surgery, she saw +herself the cherished wife of Miles Rushworth, and not only rich +beyond the dreams of even her desire, but also secure from every +conceivable earthly ill. +</p> + +<p> +Had Ivy Lexton belonged to another generation, she would doubtless +have called what had just happened to herself “providential.” As it +was, she just thought it a piece of astounding, almost incredible, +good luck. +</p> + +<p> +She next took down from the shelf a thin little book dealing with +infantile paralysis. But she had only just time to open it, and to +glance, with a feeling of shrinking distaste, at one of the +illustrations, when Gretorex burst into the surgery. “The poor chap’s +gone at last! What are you reading, darling?” +</p> + +<p> +“A book about children, dear.” +</p> + +<p> +There came a pathetic look into her eyes, and Gretorex gently took the +thin volume from her hand. Then he kissed that lovely, soft little +hand. +</p> + +<p> +She had told him, very early in their acquaintance, that her husband +hated the idea of children, as if they had a child it would surely +interfere with the kind of idle, gay life that he, Jervis, loved. For +the hundredth time Gretorex cursed Lexton for a heartless brute. +</p> + +<p> +She allowed him to take her in his arms. For a few moments they clung +together, and she kissed him with real passion, responding as she had +not responded for what seemed to Gretorex an eternity of frustrate +longing. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy had been frightened, very much frightened, just now. It was +surprisingly comfortable and reassuring to feel his strong arms round +her, to know that he loved her—loved her. +</p> + +<p> +“Did you buy an evening paper?” she asked at last, disengaging herself +from his close embrace. +</p> + +<p> +“No, but the chap who came to see me had one in his hand, and I +believe he left it behind. Would you like me to give it you to read in +the omnibus?” +</p> + +<p> +“It would hurt my eyes to do that. I was only wondering what had +happened about that Branksome Case?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can tell you that without looking at the paper, darling. In fact I +did tell you—but you’ve forgotten, my pet.” +</p> + +<p> +“What was it that you told me?” +</p> + +<p> +“That they’ll hang the man, and let the woman off!” +</p> + +<p> +He spoke quite confidently. “There’s not a doubt but that she really +planned the whole thing out. But he, poor wretch, bought the fly +papers. Most of the secret poisoning that goes on is done by women.” +</p> + +<p> +“How dreadful!” +</p> + +<p> +“A great many dreadful things go on in this strange world, my darling +love.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean things that are not found out?” +</p> + +<p> +He nodded, almost gaily. He was glad, so glad, to find a subject that +interested her, and that might make her stay a few moments longer. +</p> + +<p> +So, “I’m afraid that only one secret poisoner is found out for six +that go scot free,” he went on. “Even now it’s difficult to tell the +difference between the effect produced by, say, arsenic, and a very +ordinary ailment. A post-mortem only takes place if there’s already +reason to suspect foul play.” +</p> + +<p> +“Post-mortem?” +</p> + +<p> +The word meant nothing to Ivy Lexton. +</p> + +<p> +“In the vast majority of cases the danger is negligible,” he +continued. “The secret poisoner, especially if a woman, is never even +suspected, and if she is——” +</p> + +<p> +“If she is?” echoed Ivy uncertainly. +</p> + +<p> +“The doctor, nine times out of ten, gives her the benefit of the +doubt!” +</p> + +<p> +He ended his careless sentence with a laugh. It was of her, of her +dear nearness, of her kind, soft, loving manner, that he was thinking, +and not at all of what he was saying. +</p> + +<p> +“Would you let her off, Roger?” +</p> + +<p> +He grew suddenly grave. “Well, no, I don’t think I would. You see it +wouldn’t be right. For one thing, she might try the same game over +again.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him coldly. Few men were as set on doing right as was +apparently this man. +</p> + +<p> +Then she smiled, a curiously subtle, sweet little smile. She knew, if +no one else did, the weak place in his defences. It was pleasant to +know that no other woman would ever have that knowledge. Ivy believed, +rightly or wrongly, that a man does not love twice as this man, +Gretorex, loved her. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, I must go now,” she said at last. And then, for she saw the +sudden darkening of his face, “You may as well come with me as far as +the corner of Great Smith Street, Roger. It’s quite dark now.” +</p> + +<p> +Once more she allowed him to kiss her. Once more there came from her +the response which had now for so long been lacking, and of which the +lack made him feel so desolate. +</p> + +<p> +As they walked along the now shrouded, deserted little back streets of +old Westminster, Ivy Lexton was very gentle in her manner to the man +who loved her with so whole-hearted and selfless a devotion. +</p> + +<p> +She had quite decided that soon they must part, never to meet again. +And yet, though Gretorex would never know it, it was to him, albeit +indirectly, that she would owe her splendid freedom, and all that +freedom was to bring to her. It was that knowledge, maybe, that made +her manner so gentle and so kind. +</p> + +<p> +When at last Jervis Lexton came in, he found his wife playing patience +in the pretty sitting-room where she spent so little of her time. +</p> + +<p> +He felt a little surprised, for unless she happened to be out, as was +the case six nights out of seven, Ivy always went to bed early. +</p> + +<p> +“Thank God, I’m safe home again!” he exclaimed. “It was the most awful +show. The grub wasn’t bad, but the champagne was like syrup. I’ve +‘some thirst,’ I can tell you!” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a minute, and”—she smiled a gay little smile—“I’ll mix you a +highball, old boy. Would you like a Bizzy Izzy, just as a treat?” +</p> + +<p> +“The answer, ma’am, is ‘yes’!” +</p> + +<p> +She went off into the dining-room, and took from the fine old mahogany +brass-bound wine-cooler a bottle of rye whisky and a bottle of sherry. +Then, carefully, she poured a small wineglass of each into a tall +glass. +</p> + +<p> +With the glass in her hand she hurried down the passage, and so into +the bright, clean, empty kitchen. There she soon found some ice, and, +after having chipped off a number of small pieces, she waited a moment +and listened intently, for she did not want to be surprised in what +she was about to do. +</p> + +<p> +But the old cook was lying sound asleep in the bedroom which lay +beyond the kitchen. Ivy could even hear her long, drawn-out snores. +</p> + +<p> +Opening a cupboard door very, very quietly, she found a syphon, and +filled up the glass almost to the top with soda-water. Then, quickly, +she mixed in with a clean wooden spoon a good pinch of the powder she +had secreted in the <i>pochette</i> of her bag. +</p> + +<p> +“A perfect Bizzy Izzy!” Ivy called out gaily as she swiftly went down +the corridor, holding in her steady hand the tall glass, now full +almost to the brim. +</p> + +<p> +Through the hall and back into the sitting-room she hurried, and then +she watched, with an odd sensation of excitement, her husband toss off +the delicious iced drink. +</p> + +<p> +“This soda fizz has got a bitter tang to it,” he exclaimed, “but it’s +none the worse for that!” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy stayed awake for a long time that night. She had suddenly begun to +feel afraid, she hardly knew of what. But at last she dropped off to +sleep. +</p> + +<p> +At nine o’clock the next morning she awoke. What was it that had +happened last night? Then she remembered. +</p> + +<p> +Leaping out of bed she rushed across the dressing-table, on which +there lay the mother-of-pearl bolster bag she had had out with her +last night. Opening it she took out her handkerchief, her powder puff, +and her purse. Then she put the bag, now quite empty save for the +white powder the tiny white leather-lined inner recess contained, into +an old despatch-box which had belonged to her father. +</p> + +<p> +It was the only “lock up” Ivy Lexton possessed; at no time of her life +had she been so foolish as to keep dangerous love-letters more than a +very short time. She put the despatch-box in what was the empty half +of a huge Victorian inlaid wardrobe. Then she got into bed again, and +rang the bell. +</p> + +<p> +A moment later the day-maid opened the bedroom door. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Lexton was ill in the night, ma’am. He thinks he ate something +last evening that didn’t agree with him. He asked me to tell you that +he’s not going to the office this morning.” +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch06"> +Chapter Six +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">It was</span> the eighth of November, a day which, though she never +realised it, altered the whole of Ivy Lexton’s life. And this was the +more extraordinary because she was usually quick enough to realise the +importance of everything that concerned herself. +</p> + +<p> +But on this day she was feeling secretly excited, anxious, and what to +herself she called “nervy,” for her husband’s illness, though it had +only lasted just over a week, seemed to her intolerably +long-drawn-out. +</p> + +<p> +Jervis Lexton, poor devil, was putting up a grim, instinctive fight +for life. Coming of a long line of sporting, out-of-door, country +squires and their placid wives, he was magnificently healthy, +hard-bitten, and possessed of reserves of physical strength on which +he was now drawing daily larger and larger drafts. +</p> + +<p> +On the morning when she had first been told that Jervis had been taken +ill in the night, Ivy had gone down to Rushworth’s city office. There, +as she put it afterwards when telling the invalid of her interview +with Mr. James, the man he called his boss, “red carpets had been put +down for her,” and no difficulty at all had been made as to Lexton’s +staying away. +</p> + +<p> +As a matter of fact, the young man had very soon been sized up as +being, from a business point of view, hopeless. But his pleasant, easy +manners, and his inexhaustible fund of small talk and of good stories, +amused the boss. Also—and that, naturally, was the one thing that +mattered—Jervis Lexton was a pet of Miles Rushworth. +</p> + +<p> +After Mrs. Jervis Lexton’s visit to the office, however, what had +seemed a mystery had been at any rate partially explained. What man, +so Rushworth’s London agent asked himself smiling, could resist that +deliciously pretty and sweet-mannered little woman? No wonder a job +had been invented for her husband, who was, after all, a decent chap. +</p> + +<p> +A day was to come when Mr. James would try to remember how Ivy Lexton +had impressed him, and when all he would succeed in remembering, very +vividly, was how agreeable that impression had been, and how +touchingly the lovely lady had revealed her devotion to her husband, +fortunate Jervis Lexton. +</p> + +<p> +On the second day Jervis had said he felt so queer that he would like +to see their old friend, Dr. Lancaster. And by now, after five days, +that genial general practitioner, though utterly unsuspicious of the +truth, was nevertheless becoming slightly uneasy at the persistence of +the illness. +</p> + +<p> +He had insisted, much against Ivy’s will, on sending in a nurse, a +placid, kindly woman named Bradfield, who had often nursed for the +doctor before. +</p> + +<p> +Small wonder that the patient’s wife was also becoming just a little +fretful, and more than a little anxious. How long, she often asked +herself restlessly, was her ordeal going to last? +</p> + +<p> +Yet another fact added to Ivy Lexton’s discomfort during those long +days of waiting. +</p> + +<p> +That fact, or rather problem, concerned Roger Gretorex. She found it +increasingly difficult to prevent him from coming to the flat. When +alone with her he made no secret of his dislike of meeting her husband +on “Hail fellow, well met!” terms, and yet he longed to be with her +every moment of his scanty leisure. +</p> + +<p> +At times she felt she almost hated him, for by now her whole mind was +filled with the thought of Rushworth, and of all that she felt +convinced Rushworth was going to mean in her life. But she could not +yet afford to break with Gretorex. Afford, indeed, was still the right +word, for again he was supplying her with what had always been to Ivy +the staff of life—petty cash. +</p> + +<p> +But she came to one great resolution, and that was to go no more to +the humble little house in the Westminster slum with which she had now +a secret, terrifying association. And so, as her slightest wish was +law to Gretorex, the two began meeting now in a picture gallery, or, +when it was a fine day, in Kensington Gardens, which was conveniently +near the charming flat the Lextons owed to the generous kindness of +Miles Rushworth. +</p> + +<p> +So far Ivy had managed to conceal her husband’s illness from Gretorex. +With regard to that mysterious illness, it was of her lover, and of +her lover alone, that up to now she had felt afraid. +</p> + +<p> +As a matter of fact Roger Gretorex had already completely forgotten +that idle talk of theirs concerning the Branksome poisoning mystery. +But every word that had been uttered during the evening when she had +had supper at Ferry Place, and every moment that she had spent in the +surgery, remained uncannily present to Ivy’s mind. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +And now, on this eighth of November, she had been out for an hour, +looking into the shop windows which line Kensington High Street. She +had even gone into one famous emporium and bought a new, and very +expensive, black model hat. Though quite unobtrusive in shape, it was +at once as simple and as unusual as only a French model hat can be. +She had felt that she might have cause to be really very much put out +if that perfect little hat were bought, over her head so to speak, +during the next few days. +</p> + +<p> +At last, feeling more cheerful, she walked briskly back to the Duke of +Kent Mansion. The pleasant-spoken porter—all men, even lift porters, +were always pleasant-spoken to Ivy Lexton—took her up in the lift. +She let herself in with her latchkey, for she always liked slipping in +and out of the flat alone. +</p> + +<p> +As she went through the hall towards her charming bedroom, the door of +her husband’s room opened, and Nurse Bradfield came out, looking +flustered and worried. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Lexton doesn’t seem so well, and as we haven’t seen Dr. Lancaster +for two days, I telephoned to say I’d like him to come now. But oh, +Mrs. Lexton, such a dreadful thing has happened!” +</p> + +<p> +Under her delicately applied rouge, the colour drifted from Ivy’s +face. +</p> + +<p> +“Something dreadful?” she repeated mechanically. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, indeed, for Dr. Lancaster has gone and broken his leg playing +golf! He was staying with his brother-in-law at Seaford, for one night +only, but now he’s laid up there, and they don’t know for how long.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy’s first feeling was one of relief. She had been so dreadfully +frightened just now lest “something” should have been found out. +</p> + +<p> +But even so, as the nurse went on speaking, there did come over her a +slight feeling of misgiving. +</p> + +<p> +“However, Dr. Berwick, the doctor who works in with Dr. Lancaster, so +to speak, is coming round instead!” Nurse Bradfield continued. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope he’s nice,” said Ivy earnestly. +</p> + +<p> +The accident to Dr. Lancaster was real bad luck. He was a dear old +thing, and so truly fond of her. When they had been almost penniless, +he had attended her twice for nothing. +</p> + +<p> +There came a curious look over the nurse’s face. She hesitated, and +then made up her mind to be frank. +</p> + +<p> +“To tell you the truth, Mrs. Lexton, I don’t much like Dr. Berwick! +But then I’m prejudiced, for I once had a nasty little scrap with him +when I was nursing another case for Dr. Lancaster. I consider that Dr. +Berwick was very rude to me.” +</p> + +<p> +“How horrid of him!” exclaimed Ivy sympathetically, although she had +not really been attending to what Nurse Bradfield was saying. +</p> + +<p> +But she did listen, with startled attention, when the nurse suddenly +added: +</p> + +<p> +“However, he’s said to be very clever, and he’s much more up-to-date +than Dr. Lancaster. I shouldn’t be a bit surprised if Dr. Berwick +finds out what really is the matter with Mr. Lexton!” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy stared fearfully at the speaker, and again there swept over her a +strong feeling of misgiving, if not of fear. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +Thus was effected the entrance of Dr. Berwick into the lives of Ivy +Lexton and her husband. +</p> + +<p> +In spite of his shrewdness and long professional experience, it took +the new doctor some days to become even vaguely puzzled—so true is it +that murder is the one chink in the armour of a civilised +community—over certain unusual features in his patient’s case. +</p> + +<p> +On the occasion of his first visit to Jervis Lexton, Dr. Berwick had +been in a great hurry, and though he had seen his new patient’s wife +for a few moments, he had impatiently dismissed her from his mind as +a foolish, frivolous little woman. Indeed, considering the manner of +man he was, he could hardly have told, after that brief interview in +the dimly lighted hall, whether young Mrs. Lexton was pretty, or just +ordinary, though he had noticed, with disapproval, that she was very +much made up. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy on her side, if feeling slightly surprised by the doctor’s lack of +interest in her attractive self, was at the same time reassured by the +fact that Dr. Berwick evidently thought her husband only suffering +from a temporary, if obstinate ailment, brought on, most probably, by +something he had eaten during the evening which had preceded the night +he had first been taken ill. +</p> + +<p> +And yet her feeling of misgiving prevailed so far that she +deliberately tried to keep out of the new doctor’s way. This was quite +easy, for she was out to most meals, and owing to Lexton’s illness she +had stopped giving her pleasant little bridge-parties at the flat. +</p> + +<p> +But as the days dragged on, as Jervis Lexton, instead of responding to +treatment, grew steadily worse, Dr. Berwick began to feel really +puzzled. He made up his mind one day to see Mrs. Lexton. On that day +Ivy was going to be motored to Brighton by a new admirer, and she had +said she would come in after lunch to fetch her fur coat. So the +doctor, believing she would be back soon, waited for her. But the +moments became minutes, and the minutes mounted up to close on half an +hour. +</p> + +<p> +Feeling very much annoyed, he was just about to leave the flat, when +Ivy walked into the drawing-room, looking, as he instantly +acknowledged to himself, charmingly pretty and gay. +</p> + +<p> +“I waited to see you, Mrs. Lexton, because I am not satisfied with +your husband’s condition. From what the nurse tells me, Dr. Lancaster +was puzzled too, though he said nothing of that in the notes he sent +me concerning the case.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, almost in spite of himself, he was touched by the look of +distress which at once shadowed her lovely face, and it was in a +kinder tone that he went on: +</p> + +<p> +“If he does not pick up in the next day or two, I should very much +like to have another opinion. Will you try to persuade him to see a +specialist?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I will,” she said quickly. “Though he can’t bear any fuss +made over him, poor old boy! He very much objected to our having a +nurse; but she’s such a comfort to me.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Berwick disliked Nurse Bradfield. He thought her slow and +old-fashioned. So now he told himself that, though she might be a +comfort to Mrs. Lexton, he would far prefer a different kind of nurse +to tend one as ill as he now realised Jervis Lexton to be. +</p> + +<p> +He looked fixedly at his patient’s wife, debating within himself +whether he ought to impart to her a suspicion which was beginning, +only beginning, to touch his mind. Now and again, during the last two +days, he had felt a slight, half-doubting suspicion as to whether +certain untoward symptoms could possibly mean that Lexton was +absorbing some form of irritant poison. But even to hint or half-imply +such possibility is a very serious thing to do from a doctor’s point +of view, and so he fell back on what seemed the wiser course of +recommending a second opinion. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think Dr. Lancaster will be away long?” asked Ivy. “He’s such +an old friend of mine,” and she smiled, a pretty, disarming little +smile. “I know you’re ever so much more clever than he is——” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Berwick interrupted harshly, “That’s quite untrue! Dr. Lancaster +has had ten times the experience I’ve had, and I take my hat off to +him every time. But I fear he’s not likely to be back for a long time. +You see, he’s no longer a young man, and it is a great chance for him +to be invalided away from home, and where he can’t be got at by the +kind attentions of friends and—patients.” +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +The next day an untoward thing happened which, though it seemed at the +time of very little account, was yet to prove of considerable moment. +</p> + +<p> +Roger Gretorex ran across a Mrs. Horley, whom he had often met in +Ivy’s company in the now far-away days when he would go anywhere, and +everywhere, just to see her, and to hold her hand for a moment. Mrs. +Horley naturally alluded to Jervis Lexton’s illness, and was evidently +much surprised to find that it was all news to him. To everyone but +Gretorex, Ivy constantly mentioned her husband’s unfortunate +condition, and expressed some measure of anxiety. +</p> + +<p> +Though only half believing Mrs. Horley’s tale, or rather believing +that Lexton was suffering from some slight indisposition, Gretorex +went off to the flat, only to find that Ivy was out, as usual. +</p> + +<p> +The cook had opened the front door. She knew Gretorex quite well by +sight, for in the early days of the Lextons being there, he had been +an occasional visitor. +</p> + +<p> +He listened to her wordy account of “the master’s” illness; and then +the nurse, hearing voices in the hall, opened her patient’s door. +</p> + +<p> +“Nurse! This is Dr. Gretorex, a great friend of the master and +missus,” said cook, retreating down the corridor towards her kitchen. +</p> + +<p> +Nurse Bradfield, who found life very dull just now, was pleased to see +the fine-looking young man—a doctor, too. +</p> + +<p> +“Will you ask Mr. Lexton if he would care to see me?” asked Gretorex. +</p> + +<p> +He felt he could do nothing less, as he was there, and Ivy was out. +</p> + +<p> +Poor Jervis eagerly, even joyfully, welcomed the suggestion, and the +nurse left the two young men together. They talked of all kinds of +things—things that interested Lexton rather than Gretorex. +</p> + +<p> +At last the visitor rose. “I’ll be going now——” +</p> + +<p> +“Must you? I get so bored lying here. I wish, old chap, you could +think of something that would make me feel the thing again? I don’t +think much of Ivy’s Dr. Lancaster. Besides, he’s just broken his leg!” +</p> + +<p> +Then he went into details of what had become his wretched case, and, +after having heard him out, Gretorex produced a paper pad and a +fountain pen. Rapidly he began writing out a prescription, and he was +so absorbed in what he was doing that he did not hear the bedroom door +open. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Berwick, who was tired, having been up all night over an anxious +case, stared with anger, as well as amazement, at his as yet unknown +colleague. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallo!” cried Jervis, trying to lift himself up from the pillow, for +he had become very weak. “Here’s a lark! An impromptu consultation, +eh?” +</p> + +<p> +Then, as even he realised that Dr. Berwick looked like a thundercloud, +as he afterwards expressed it to the nurse, he went on, +apologetically: “I was joking of course! Gretorex, this is Dr. +Berwick, who has taken over Dr. Lancaster’s patients.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, looking at Berwick, he went on: “Dr. Gretorex is a great friend +of mine and Ivy’s. He came in just now, and I told him about my poor +dry throat and asked him if he could think of something that might +give me a little relief. You don’t mind, do you?” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Berwick waited a moment. Then he said, in far from a pleasant +tone: +</p> + +<p> +“Well, to tell you the truth, I do mind. You are my patient, Mr. +Lexton, not Dr. Gretorex’s patient.” +</p> + +<p> +Gretorex rose from the chair on which he had been sitting close to the +sick man’s bed. The colour rushed up all over his dark face. He said +stiffly, cursing Lexton for a fool the while: +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Lexton had just told me that Dr. Lancaster has broken his leg. I +had no idea that someone else had already taken over the case——” +</p> + +<p> +There followed an awkward silence between the two men. Dr. Berwick was +waiting for the formal apology which the other did not consider it +necessary to tender to him. +</p> + +<p> +At last Gretorex took the piece of paper on which he had written out a +prescription for a soothing mixture and tore it in two. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Lexton,” he exclaimed, “I’ll be off now, leaving you, I’m sure, +in excellent hands! Tell Mrs. Lexton I came in. I’ve been so awfully +busy this last fortnight that I haven’t had a minute to myself. I’ve +taken over for a friend a practice in Westminster for a bit. It’s in a +slum, and means a lot of work——” +</p> + +<p> +“And precious little pay, eh?” said Lexton. +</p> + +<p> +Roger Gretorex smiled grimly, “But it’s all experience.” +</p> + +<p> +Then he went out of the room, with just a cool nod to the other +doctor. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +It was a very different Dr. Berwick who at eight that same evening +finished eating his well-cooked, daintily-served dinner. Janey Berwick +was what her husband’s old friends called, with truth, a thoroughly +nice woman. After their early marriage she and her husband had had a +bitter struggle, but that had only made them come the closer to one +another, and now that he was beginning to be really successful, she +was determined to make him, so far as lay in her power, comfortable. +</p> + +<p> +She wore to-night her prettiest evening frock, and anyone, seeing them +sitting there side by side in front of their cheerful fire in their +pleasant sitting-room, would have thought them a pair of engaged +lovers, rather than a couple who had been wedded for close on twelve +years. +</p> + +<p> +Janey Berwick still looked a young woman, for she had been only +nineteen when she had given up a comfortable, even luxurious, home, to +throw in her lot with the young man who till two or three months +before their wedding had been still a medical student. +</p> + +<p> +He bore more signs than did his wife of the struggle they had gone +through. However, that struggle was now a thing of the past, or, at +least, so they both had good reason to think. +</p> + +<p> +An intelligent doctor either shares everything or nothing with his +wife. Berwick shared everything and now he was engaged in telling her +about Jervis Lexton, and how puzzled he was fast becoming over +Lexton’s curious condition. He also told her how surprised, not to say +indignant, he had been to discover, when he had gone to see his +patient to-day, another doctor there, actually prescribing for +Lexton—true, only as a friend, but acting, even so, in a most +irregular fashion! +</p> + +<p> +“I think I made him feel what I thought of such conduct,” he said with +satisfaction. +</p> + +<p> +Then suddenly he asked her a question. +</p> + +<p> +“D’you remember that your people took a shooting in Sussex many years +ago, when I first knew you, from a man call Gretorex?” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I do, darling! Anchorford was the name of the place.” +</p> + +<p> +She was puzzled at the sudden change in the conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, this young chap I found prescribing for Lexton is Roger +Gretorex! I had a sort of feeling I’d seen him before.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what an extraordinary thing—I mean, that he should be a doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see why. Only the old house and that bit of shooting belonged +to them, even then. D’you remember Mrs. Gretorex? She was very much +the <i>grande dame</i>——” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, she was in a way, but so really kind. She took a great fancy to +me,” said Janey Berwick slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think she approved of me. She thought you ought to do +better.” +</p> + +<p> +Berwick’s wife smiled. It was true that Mrs. Gretorex hadn’t much +cared for the dour, silent, medical student who was obviously in love +with her attractive young friend. +</p> + +<p> +“It all comes back to me. They were fearfully poor; but Mrs. Gretorex +was keeping up all her charities in the village just as if she had +still been the rich lady of the manor. I thought it splendid of her. +What is Roger Gretorex like now? He was such a handsome boy,” she +concluded, with some curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +Her husband waited a moment, then he answered: “He’s still +good-looking; I can tell you that much. But I didn’t like the look of +him. He said that he’d taken over a slum practice, somewhere in +Westminster.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is he a great friend of Mr. Lexton?” +</p> + +<p> +“He seemed to be, though they’re as different as chalk from cheese. +The one’s a born idler, the other I should say a born worker; though, +mind you, Squire Gretorex was a bad man. D’you remember the sort of +things we were told about him, Janey? How he had come in for thirty +thousand a year when he was twenty-one, and how by the time he was +fifty he had run through the whole of his fortune on the turf?” +</p> + +<p> +“I expect Dr. Gretorex takes after his mother,” she said with a smile. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly there came the postman’s loud knock, and Berwick, jumping up, +went out into the hall. +</p> + +<p> +He came back with only one rather bulky letter, addressed to himself, +in a woman’s sloping handwriting as yet unknown to him. +</p> + +<p> +He opened the large, square, pale-mauve envelope slowly, deliberately. +It contained a note folded in two, and also an enclosure, an envelope +on which was written “Prescriptions.” +</p> + +<p> +He glanced over the note: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Dear Dr. Berwick</span>, +</p> + +<p> +You asked me to send you Dr. Lancaster’s prescriptions. I found them +just after you left. Jervis is feeling better this afternoon, and the +nurse says that if you’re busy she doesn’t think you need come +to-morrow. +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +Yours sincerely,<br> +<span class="sc">Ivy Lexton</span>. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +He looked across at his wife. “It’s from Mrs. Lexton. She says her +husband’s better, and that I need not go there to-morrow. That’s a +comfort!” +</p> + +<p> +Idly he took out what that other envelope contained. Dr. Lancaster’s +prescriptions might give him a clue as to what the old fellow really +thought of Lexton’s mysterious condition. +</p> + +<p> +“Hallo!” he exclaimed in a tone of extreme surprise, for what was +written on a wide sheet of thin, common paper, folded in eight, ran: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="rt1"> +<i>Friday night.</i> +</p> + +<p> +My own precious love (for that you are and always will be)— +</p> + +<p> +Of course I quite see your point of view. Indeed I absolutely agree in +a sense with every word that you have written to me. We have done +wrong in allowing ourselves to love one another, and when I say “we” I +really mean I Roger Gretorex, not you, Ivy Lexton. You were, you are, +the purest and best woman I have ever known. +</p> + +<p> +I can swear before God that, had you been even moderately happy, I +would have killed myself rather than have disturbed your peace. My +only excuse, not for having loved you—of that I am not at all +ashamed—but for having let you know that I loved you, is that when we +first met you had begun to find how bitter a loveless life can be. +</p> + +<p> +You say you feel you ought never to come again to Ferry Place. I bow +to your decision, dearest, and I will say that you are right in having +come to that decision, even though it causes me agony. Thank you for +saying I may still write to you, and that you will sometimes telephone +to me. +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +Your devoted<br> +<span class="sc">Roger Gretorex</span>. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Berwick read the letter right through. Then he handed it to his wife. +</p> + +<p> +“Janey? I want you to tell me what you think of this! Both of the +writer, I mean, and of the woman to whom this letter was written?” +</p> + +<p> +Slowly, with her husband closely watching her, and feeling, it must be +admitted, ashamed of what she was doing, Janey Berwick read Roger +Gretorex’s letter to Ivy Lexton right through. +</p> + +<p> +Then she looked across at her husband, and her face bore an expression +that a little surprised him. He had expected it to be filled with the +wrath and disgust he felt himself. +</p> + +<p> +“This is written with a man’s heart’s blood,” she said at last. “There +must be more in this little Mrs. Lexton than you think, Angus. Surely +this letter cannot be in answer to one sent by a silly, frivolous +woman?” +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder,” he said gloomily, “what their real relations have been. +This letter might, of course, mean one of two things.” +</p> + +<p> +She was reading the letter once more, slowly and carefully. At last +she looked up. “I am inclined to think——” then she stopped and +exclaimed, “I don’t know what to think, Angus!” +</p> + +<p> +“What were you going to say just now?” he asked quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“I was going to say that I’m inclined to think that their friendship +has not been innocent. That was what I was going to say; but even in +these last few moments I’ve turned right round! Now I would say in all +sincerity, my dear, that I think it very probable that there’s been +nothing but passionate love on his side, and I suppose grateful +affection on hers. She evidently doesn’t care for her husband; so much +is quite clear.” +</p> + +<p> +“No one would ever think so, from her way of speaking of him. The only +time I’ve ever seen them together they seemed on the most affectionate +terms. He was calling her ‘darling’ all the time, and she called him +‘dear old boy,’ and seemed genuinely very much worried about him.” +</p> + +<p> +“At any rate she’s now made up her mind to do the right thing,” said +Janey Berwick gravely. “One can’t but honour her for that, when one +remembers——” +</p> + +<p> +She smiled, a curious little smile. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my dear? Out with it!” +</p> + +<p> +“After all, it is very delightful to be loved,” she said softly, “and +this poor young chap evidently adores her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now comes a difficult question: what am I to do with this letter? I +wonder if I ought to send it back to her——” +</p> + +<p> +“If I were you, I wouldn’t send it back to her. If she’s the sort of +woman you’ve described her to be, it’s quite likely she’ll never +discover that she sent it you by mistake.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ought I to put it in the fire?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think you ought to do that. It doesn’t belong to you. You’ve +no right to destroy it. Wait a day or two, dearest, and see what +happens. She may ask you if you have got the letter? Then you can give +it back to her. I’ll keep it if you like, Angus. We’ll put it in an +envelope and I’ll address it to myself. If I keep it in the secret +drawer of my old desk over there, only you and I will know where it +is.” +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch07"> +Chapter Seven +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">A long, long week</span> went by, and it was now the evening of the 16th of +November. Nurse Bradfield had been out for an hour after lunch, and +while she was out Ivy had “looked after” Jervis. She made a point of +doing this at some time of her day, though it was always over-full. +</p> + +<p> +Being both good humoured and good natured, Nurse Bradfield fell in +easily with any plan proposed by her patient’s wife. She had become +very fond of Jervis Lexton, and, though aware of Ivy Lexton’s +selfishness and innate frivolity and levity, she was yet attracted, in +spite of herself, by the younger woman’s beauty, and what was in very +truth an exceptional charm of manner, and what some of Ivy’s friends +called her cheeriness. +</p> + +<p> +Nurse Bradfield would have been surprised indeed could she have looked +into Ivy Lexton’s mind, and seen how often and how anxiously that mind +was occupied with herself. +</p> + +<p> +Often the nurse would be touched and gratified by the consideration +with which she was treated, and her comfort studied. It was no wonder +that she, on her side, never even thought of insisting on her right to +a certain amount of rest and exercise. She was no longer a young +woman. She had few friends in London, and this day nursing job with a +pleasant young couple was an agreeable interlude in her often anxious +and hard-working life. +</p> + +<p> +So on this early afternoon Ivy and Jervis had what her patient +afterwards weakly described to his nurse as a quiet, nice little time +together. +</p> + +<p> +Then Ivy had gone out to a bridge-party, and now she had just come in, +leaving herself barely time enough to dress and go out again. +</p> + +<p> +To the young day-maid who hovered, timidly, admiringly, about her, +Mrs. Lexton sadly expressed her regret at being in too great a hurry +to see Mr. Lexton, even for a minute. +</p> + +<p> +Hurry was the word to-day. She was hurrying over her dressing as she +never hurried before, and, while she made up with feverish haste, +there was a strange look on her lovely face. She even noticed that she +did not look “quite the thing,” as she gazed at herself in the +looking-glass, and she tried, but it was a failure, to smile, +reassuringly, at herself. +</p> + +<p> +She had turned away from the dressing-table and had just slipped her +frock over her head, when there was a knock at the bedroom door, and +Nurse Bradfield came in. +</p> + +<p> +“I feel anxious about Mr. Lexton,” she said in a worried voice. “I +don’t like his colour. Will you ’phone for the doctor, Mrs. Lexton? I +hate leaving Mr. Lexton, even for a moment!” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy of course murmured a word of assent. Then it was as if her heart +bounded in her breast. Had it come at last—her order of release? +</p> + +<p> +She felt a spasm of terror shake her being. Also a sensation of abject +fear of hard-faced, cold-mannered Dr. Berwick. +</p> + +<p> +This morning she had discovered the envelope containing the +prescriptions which she believed she had sent the doctor a few days +ago. And as she stared at it, puzzled, she suddenly +remembered—remembered, with a sharp stab of dismay, thrusting +Gretorex’s letter into an empty envelope which she herself, in the +early days of Jervis’s illness, acting on Dr. Lancaster’s fussy +advice, had marked “Prescriptions.” Fool, fool that she had been! +</p> + +<p> +There was that in the lovely, sensitive face of her patient’s wife +that caused the nurse to run forward and put her arms round her. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t be so upset, Mrs. Lexton! We’ll have the doctor round in a few +minutes. Though he’s not my sort, Dr. Berwick is very clever, and +maybe he’ll think of something to bring him round—quick! But do +please now ’phone at once!” And she almost ran out of the room. +</p> + +<p> +But Ivy did not go over to the side of the bed where stood the +telephone. Instead, she went and sat down again in front of the pretty +dressing-table. She shrank with terror from the thought of sending for +Dr. Berwick “all in a hurry, like this.” +</p> + +<p> +Oh! What had made her give that large, that dangerous, dose of +the—the stuff, to Jervis to-day? He had felt weak, weak and what he +oddly called “spent.” So she had mixed him a stiff brandy and soda. +And the doing of that had seemed such a good opportunity for… Ivy did +not end the sentence, even to herself. +</p> + +<p> +Again, why wasn’t Roger Gretorex in London? What a fool she had been +to let him go for a long week-end down to Sussex to his tiresome +mother. There was such support in his unquestioning love, in his +adoring devotion, especially as he no longer asked her, with pleading, +ardent, burning words of longing, to go to that horrid little house in +Ferry Place. +</p> + +<p> +At last, slowly, and with dragging steps, she went over to the +telephone and rang up the doctor’s house. +</p> + +<p> +To her relief it was a woman’s voice, kindly, gentle, which answered. +</p> + +<p> +“My husband is away. He won’t be back till to-morrow morning. Mr. +Lexton less well? I’m so sorry. I’ll have a message sent round at once +to Dr. Singleton, who always takes over Dr. Berwick’s work. He only +lives two doors off, and his telephone is unluckily out of order.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy waited for what seemed to the other a very long time. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sure he’ll be able to come at once?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +There came the slightly impatient answer, “I can’t be sure of that, +for Dr. Singleton may be out. But he’ll come as soon as he can.” +</p> + +<p> +“We want someone at once,” and the voice sounded so sad, so woeful, +that Mrs. Berwick, at the other end of the telephone, felt ashamed of +the suspicion she had harboured about young Mrs. Lexton ever since the +night she had read Roger Gretorex’s love-letter. It was, however, a +suspicion she had kept to herself. Even if these two had been lovers, +they were so no longer. And in any case it was none of her business. +</p> + +<p> +But what was this Mrs. Lexton was saying? +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a doctor living in Duke of Kent Mansion. I think I’d better +try and get him, don’t you? My husband is so very ill. Nurse is quite +frightened!” +</p> + +<p> +Without waiting for Mrs. Berwick’s assent, Ivy hung up the receiver. +</p> + +<p> +She felt very much less afraid than she had felt just now. Surely fate +was playing into her hands? She told herself that it was really a most +fortunate thing that Dr. Berwick happened to be away. +</p> + +<p> +She went out into the hall and listened. But no sounds were coming +from the sick man’s room. +</p> + +<p> +Timorously she called out, “Nurse!” +</p> + +<p> +She was afraid to open Jervis’s bedroom door, for she was determined +not to see him. To do so, she told herself, would do him no good, and +only make her feel miserable. +</p> + +<p> +The kitchen door, situated some way off, at the end of the long +corridor, swung open, and the nurse appeared, a jug of boiling water +in her hand. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m coming,” she called out, “I’m coming, Mr. Lexton. Is the doctor +here already?” +</p> + +<p> +“Dr. Berwick has gone away till to-morrow morning. Shall we try and +get the doctor who lives in number 1A, downstairs?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I don’t think Dr. Berwick would like us to do that! He was so +disagreeable about that nice Dr. Gretorex. Surely Dr. Berwick has +someone who takes his patients when he’s away? I never heard of such a +thing as a doctor leaving his patients unattended! But I’ve thought of +something to give Mr. Lexton that may ease the dreadful pain. He seems +a little better now.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad of that,” said Ivy fervently. And she was glad. It hurt her, +made her feel wretched, when she had time to remember it, to think of +poor Jervis suffering. +</p> + +<p> +As time had gone on, Nurse Bradfield had liked Dr. Berwick less and +less. He had such a short, unpleasant way with him. Also, she was too +experienced not to have quickly seen that he was both puzzled and +irritated by his patient’s lack of reaction to his treatment. Once or +twice she had thrown out a feeler about this. But he had rebuffed her, +almost rudely, while yet giving her strict instructions never to leave +her patient alone, and always to administer herself the food and the +medicines prescribed. This had surprised, and even offended her. +</p> + +<p> +Not only had the nurse become fond, in a way, of beautiful Mrs. +Lexton, but for Jervis himself she had now almost a tender feeling. He +was such a real gentleman, giving as little trouble as he could, and +even when in sharp pain invariably patient and good-humoured. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you’d like me to stay in to-night?” asked Ivy nervously. +</p> + +<p> +Nurse Bradfield hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think you need, really. It isn’t as if you could do anything, +Mrs. Lexton? I can manage quite well; and if I think it necessary I +can always send cook for the doctor in the flat downstairs.” +</p> + +<p> +So Ivy went off, with a sensation of intense relief, to a +theatre-party, composed of a young married woman of much her own age +and two men. Her own special escort was a good-looking bachelor whom +she had met since her return to London, and with whom she spent a +great deal of what she called her spare time. +</p> + +<p> +She determined to banish Jervis from her mind, and, in quite a short +time, she succeeded. After all, he was “a little better,” and Nurse +Bradfield was kindness itself. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy had abstained from saying to which theatre she was going, and +after an amusing evening spent in laughing at a really funny farce, +the four went on to supper at the Carlton. +</p> + +<p> +Her new man friend drove her home at almost one in the morning, and +she lingered for quite a long while in the deserted hall of the Duke +of Kent Mansion, bidding him farewell. When at last he went off she +felt quite “good,” for she had only allowed him one kiss. +</p> + +<p> +Lightly she ran up the stairs, for the lift stopped working at +midnight. But when she reached the landing outside her front door, Ivy +Lexton did not at once put her latchkey in the lock. Indeed, she +waited for quite a long time. At last, however, she did put the key in +the lock, and slowly she turned it. +</p> + +<p> +Then she gave a stifled cry of surprise, for Nurse Bradfield was +sitting in the hall, waiting for her. +</p> + +<p> +There was a look of great distress, almost of shame, on the nurse’s +kind face. She got up, and looked straight into the now terrified eyes +of the merry-maker. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve bad news for you—very bad news, Mrs. Lexton.” +</p> + +<p> +She waited, hoping the other would say something that would imply she +understood what that bad news must be. +</p> + +<p> +But Ivy remained silent, staring at Nurse Bradfield with +terror-filled, dilated eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Lexton took a very serious turn for the worse about half-past +ten. I sent at once for the doctor downstairs, but he was out; +and—and——” she did not finish her sentence. “I don’t think anything +could have saved him. His heart gave way—that’s what it was! He looks +so young, so boyish, so peaceful.” +</p> + +<p> +The tears came into her eyes. “Would you like to see him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh no! I—I couldn’t!” +</p> + +<p> +The newly-made widow burst into tears, and the older woman led her +tenderly to her bedroom, and helped her to undress. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll never forget how kind you were to my poor darling—and to me, +too, nurse. I hope to be able to prove my gratitude some day,” +whispered Ivy, after the other had tucked her up in bed. +</p> + +<p> +Nurse Bradfield was touched. She forgot how selfish she had secretly +thought little Mrs. Lexton’s conduct had been, in practically +insisting on going out this evening. She only remembered thenceforth +her pretty ways, her sweet manner to her poor husband, and the easy +good nature which always made her willing, when she happened to be at +home, to arrange some little treat for her husband’s kind nurse. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +That night Ivy lay for a long, long while with eyes wide open in the +darkness. What had just happened filled her with a kind of awe. She +had not known how easy and simple is the passage from life to death. +</p> + +<p> +She reminded herself how very kind, how good a pal, she had always +been to poor Jervis, and how happy he had been these last two months, +owing to Miles Rushworth. +</p> + +<p> +Dear, delightful, generous Miles Rushworth! The thought of him brought +a rush of joy, as well as comfort, in its train. +</p> + +<p> +At last a great peace descended upon her. All the terrors which had +assailed her during those infrequent moments when she had been, by +some strange chance, alone, during her husband’s illness, had vanished +as if they had never been. +</p> + +<p> +As she looked back she shivered at the thought of how frightened she +had sometimes felt. And yet, after all, she knew now that there had +been nothing to be really frightened about. +</p> + +<p> +Roger Gretorex had been right as to what he had said, on that evening +she still remembered so well. At the time she had thought it horrid of +him to imagine such a thing as that—she let what he had suggested +stay undefined. No need surely to put it into ugly words, even to +herself. All the same, she did bring herself to face the comforting +fact that, if rather horrible, it was certainly true. A great many +more people are undoubtedly helped out of life than stupid, +unimaginative folk suppose. As to those who—well—help them to leave +a world which has no further use for them, they certainly, as Roger +had declared, “got away with it,” often with marvellous success. +</p> + +<p> +True, that disagreeable Dr. Berwick had been puzzled—he had said as +much to her. But she had got on much better with him during the last +couple of days, since, in fact, he had seen that she really could not +endure the sight of poor Jervis’s sufferings.… +</p> + +<p> +The word “death,” which means so much to the great majority of men and +women, meant very little to Ivy Lexton. Indeed, she felt, as she lay +there in the darkness, that this man who had been her lover-comrade +had only gone away out of her life on a long journey—a journey from +which, however, he was never to return. The fact that she had planned +that journey, that it was owing to her direct action that he had gone +from the world he found on the whole so pleasant, would and must, not +only remain hidden, but in time be forgotten even by herself. +</p> + +<p> +In a way, she was forgetting it already as she turned to her +cloudless, sunny future—to the delightful existence she would +henceforth lead, first as the fiancée, and then as the wife, of Miles +Rushworth. +</p> + +<p> +Run straight? Of course she would run straight! For one thing, +Rushworth wasn’t the sort of man with whom it would be safe to run +crooked. For all his odd ideas, and to Ivy his ideas as to morality +were indeed singular, she realised that he had his weather eye very +much open. She would henceforth have to be what to herself she vaguely +called “a good woman.” But then, how easy it is to be a good woman +when one has a hundred thousand a year! +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch08"> +Chapter Eight +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">After a good night</span> of deep, healthy sleep, Ivy Lexton awoke. She sat +up in bed and then, all at once, she remembered.… +</p> + +<p> +Her first sensation was one of intense, almost painfully acute, +relief. True, she would still have, for just a little while, to play a +part. But playing a part was to her second nature. Now and again, but +very rarely, in moments of suspense, and now and again in moments of +panic, there would appear before a pair of astonished eyes another +woman altogether to the every-day Ivy. +</p> + +<p> +She slid out of her comfortable warm bed and softly opened the door of +her bedroom, to see that the grandfather’s clock in the hall marked a +quarter past nine. +</p> + +<p> +The kindly, fussy old cook came out of her kitchen, and when she saw +the slender figure, clad in diaphanous pale pink ninon trimmed with +lace, standing half-in half-out of the door, she hurried down the +passage and whispered, “Go back to bed, ma’am! I won’t be a minute in +getting you a cup of tea. I scarcely slept a wink all night, I was +that upset. Mr. Lexton was such a nice young gentleman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Thank you very, very much, cook!” +</p> + +<p> +Tears, genuine tears, rose to Ivy’s eyes. What cook said was so +true—Jervis had been “such a nice young gentleman,” especially during +this painful illness. It seemed so strange to think of him as gone, +for ever, from a world which on the whole had treated him so kindly, +and of which he had been so contented a denizen. Ivy did not put the +thoughts which haunted her mind in those words, but that was the +purport of them. +</p> + +<p> +After she had had her breakfast, she began to feel oddly restless, and +so, earlier than was usual with her, she got up and dressed. Nurse +Bradfield, it appeared, was still asleep. +</p> + +<p> +The newly-made widow hesitated as to what she should wear. Finally she +decided on a pretty black georgette frock she had bought from a friend +who had started a profitable little business in French models, some of +which she cleverly managed to smuggle over from Paris. +</p> + +<p> +After she had put it on, Ivy looked at the reflection of herself in +the long narrow panel of looking-glass set in the wall at right angles +from the window. Yes, the dress was charming, and looked just right. +</p> + +<p> +She ran across to a walnut-wood chest, and took out of it the hat she +had bought yesterday. For the first time, since she had come into the +flat last night, she smiled. The little hat was so chic, really chic! +And it made her look so—well, why not say it to herself?—so +absolutely lovely. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly, reluctantly, she took off the hat, and then she went into the +drawing-room. +</p> + +<p> +The blinds were still drawn down. How strange! Then she remembered why +they were drawn down. +</p> + +<p> +She wandered about the room, feeling just a little dazed. Should she +telegraph for Roger Gretorex? It was so stupid of his mother to have +given up the telephone. No one could be so poor as that; it was just +meanness and affectation! But if she wired she knew he would come back +at once. She also knew that she could trust him to take off her +shoulders all worrying, maybe even unpleasant, arrangements. +</p> + +<p> +And yet the fact that she was now a widow would certainly make Roger +“tiresome.” So unfortunately certain was this that she felt it better +to leave him alone, at any rate for the present. Also she was a little +afraid of seeing him just now. After all, owing to his being a doctor, +he had such an uncanny knowledge of—of poisons, and of their effect +on the human body. +</p> + +<p> +She sat down; then she got up again, and at last she began moving +about restlessly. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly she told herself that she might as well sit down and write to +Miles Rushworth. It could be quite a short letter. He would of course +remember that in her very last letter she had said that poor Jervis +was worse, and that she was feeling anxious. +</p> + +<p> +She wondered how long it takes for a letter to get to South Africa. +And then with a sensation of relief came the thought that she could +cable. It would be quite natural for her to do that as, after all, her +husband had been in Rushworth’s employment. +</p> + +<p> +She went over to the writing-table, and, sitting down, drew a +telegraph form towards her. She would write it out, and then take it +herself to the post office. She didn’t feel, somehow, like sending a +cable to Rushworth over the telephone. That is the worst of living in +a flat. Everything one says may be overheard, especially from the +hall. +</p> + +<p> +But instead of taking up a pen, she put her elbows on the table and +gazed in front of her. +</p> + +<p> +There had suddenly come over her a most unexpected sensation of +loneliness. Oh, if she had one good man friend who wasn’t in love with +her, and who would help her through the next few days! She did so +shrink from—from everything. Laying her head on the table, she began +to sob with self-pity. +</p> + +<p> +The door opened, and the nurse came in. Ivy looked up. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m so miserable! So miserable! I don’t know what to do!” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you worry about anything, Mrs. Lexton. Dr. Berwick will be +round pretty soon. I telephoned to his house just now, and left a +message for him. Mrs. Berwick was shocked to hear our dreadful news. +She said she was expecting the doctor back any minute now. I expect +Dr. Gretorex will be in some time to-day, too. Surely he’ll see to all +the things that have to be done.” +</p> + +<p> +“All the things?” Ivy looked timorously at Nurse Bradfield, and +shivered. +</p> + +<p> +The other saw her look of dismay. “Poor little thing,” she said to +herself, “she’s not much more than a child, after all.” +</p> + +<p> +Aloud she said, “I thought of going out presently. Not for long”—fear +had flashed into Ivy’s face—“only just for a few minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +She added kindly: “I shouldn’t try to write, if I were you, Mrs. +Lexton. I’d just lie down and have a rest. I don’t suppose you’ve had +much sleep?” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy answered plaintively, “I lay awake all night. You see it was such +a shock, nurse, such a dreadful shock,” and she thought that what she +said was true. +</p> + +<p> +In a way it had been a dreadful shock, for Ivy had never come face to +face with death. She had been still a pupil at a fashionable school +when her father had killed himself. +</p> + +<p> +The nurse led her to the comfortable sofa. “You lie down here.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy obeyed, wondering why she felt as she did feel—so thoroughly +upset and unnerved. +</p> + +<p> +She had been lying down perhaps ten minutes when she heard the now +familiar knock of Dr. Berwick. She started up, and what natural colour +she had left her cheeks. Angrily she told herself that it was stupid +to feel frightened. There was nothing to be frightened about. +</p> + +<p> +The door opened, and the doctor strode into the darkened room. He +turned a frowning, preoccupied face on the newly-made widow. Then, +when his eyes rested on the tear-stained little face, his expression +softened. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m more sorry than I can say that I happened to have been away all +yesterday, Mrs. Lexton. I only came back this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy began to cry, and again he felt touched by her evident distress. +</p> + +<p> +“Sit down, Mrs. Lexton. Do sit down. I’m afraid you’ve had a terrible +shock.” +</p> + +<p> +“A dreadful, dreadful shock!” she sobbed, “I had no idea that Jervis +was so ill.” +</p> + +<p> +“Last time I was here he was certainly better,” he said quickly. “You +thought him better too, didn’t you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I did. I did indeed.” +</p> + +<p> +She was trembling now, and though she was consciously playing a part, +her emotion was still genuine. +</p> + +<p> +She sat down on the sofa and the doctor drew up a chair and sat down +too, a little to her surprise. +</p> + +<p> +“If you feel up to it,” he said, “I want to ask you a few questions. I +mean as to what happened yesterday?” +</p> + +<p> +She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. “I can’t tell you very +much, for I was out a great deal yesterday. But nurse never left +Jervis, not for one moment. She’s been most awfully kind, and——” +</p> + +<p> +He cut her short, brusquely. “I know she’s a good old thing. What I +want to know is whether Mr. Lexton received any visitor or visitors +yesterday?” +</p> + +<p> +“Visitors?” She looked at him in surprise. “Not that I know of. He was +far too ill.” +</p> + +<p> +In a tone which he strove to make light, he observed, “I thought that +your husband might have seen Dr. Gretorex for a few moments.” +</p> + +<p> +The colour rushed into her face. +</p> + +<p> +“He can’t have seen him. Dr. Gretorex is in the country.” Then, a +little confusedly, she added, “At least, I’m nearly sure that he is.” +</p> + +<p> +“Ah, well, then he can’t have come in, of course.” +</p> + +<p> +A knock sounded on the door, and Nurse Bradfield came into the room. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy welcomed her presence. Looking up into the kind face, now full of +sympathy, she exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“Dr. Berwick has been asking me if my husband saw anyone yesterday? +But I’m quite sure Jervis wasn’t well enough to see anyone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Lexton only had one visitor,” said the nurse quickly, +defensively, “and that was Dr. Gretorex.” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought,” said the doctor, turning sharply on Ivy, “that you said +just now that Dr. Gretorex was in the country?” +</p> + +<p> +“He was to have been in the country, staying with his mother for a +long week-end.” +</p> + +<p> +There was no mistaking Ivy’s look of surprise. Not that she thought it +mattered, one way or the other, whether Roger Gretorex had come in or +not yesterday. +</p> + +<p> +“At what time was he here?” asked Dr. Berwick. +</p> + +<p> +The nurse waited a moment. “I suppose it would have been about four +o’clock. He didn’t mean to see Mr. Lexton.” +</p> + +<p> +Said Dr. Berwick grimly to himself, “Oh, didn’t he?” +</p> + +<p> +Nurse Bradfield went on, a little nervously: “He asked for Mrs. +Lexton, and when he heard that she was coming in soon—you said you +wouldn’t be out long,” and she turned to Ivy—“he said he would come +in and wait. After he had been in the drawing-room about ten minutes, +he rang for the maid and asked to see me. I told him I thought Mr. +Lexton on the whole better, and then he inquired if Mr. Lexton would +care to see him. He said he couldn’t stay long, as he had a train to +catch——” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Berwick said negligently, “Did you leave them alone together, +nurse?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I did, doctor, for I knew they were great friends. Dr. Gretorex +thought Mr. Lexton less well than the last time he had seen him. In +fact, he saw a great change.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did he tell you that?” +</p> + +<p> +She replied quickly, “He told me that he thought him very far from +well, and that he was distressed at the change he saw in him.” +</p> + +<p> +“You never told me all that,” said Ivy plaintively. +</p> + +<p> +“I ought to have done, Mrs. Lexton. But the truth is I was too upset, +when Mr. Lexton took a turn for the worse, to remember anything.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure seeing Roger Gretorex for a few moments can’t have done him +any harm,” said Ivy gently. “They were great friends.” +</p> + +<p> +But as she made that commonplace remark, she flushed again, +remembering Roger’s highfalutin’ letter—what a fool she had been not +to destroy it at once! +</p> + +<p> +“So I understood on that occasion when Dr. Gretorex, from my point of +view, most improperly began to prescribe for him,” said the doctor, in +a tone which, even to himself, sounded trenchantly ironic. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Nurse Bradfield, supposing that for the present the doctor +had done with her, had turned towards the door. +</p> + +<p> +“I should be obliged, nurse, if you would wait in the dining-room for +a few moments. I should like to speak to you on my way out.” +</p> + +<p> +“Certainly, Dr. Berwick.” +</p> + +<p> +The good woman told herself with a touch of contempt that he could +have nothing of any moment to say to her. She had done her duty, and +more than her duty as a day nurse, to poor Jervis Lexton. +</p> + +<p> +As she shut the door, Dr. Berwick turned to his late patient’s widow. +</p> + +<p> +“In the circumstances,” he said, in a slow, emphatic tone, “I am +afraid, Mrs. Lexton, that there must be a post-mortem.” +</p> + +<p> +“A post-mortem?” repeated Ivy falteringly. “What is a post-mortem, Dr. +Berwick?” +</p> + +<p> +She was trying to remember what it was exactly that Roger Gretorex had +said about a “post-mortem.” Much that he had said, during that +conversation which had meant so little to him, and so much to her, was +almost terribly present to her mind. But her memory as to that +alarming word or expression had become dim. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy Lexton had always remained, until to-day, most comfortably +ignorant of all the terrible, strange, and awful things that now and +again occurred outside her own immediate little circle of people and +of interests. +</p> + +<p> +The newspaper reports of a really exciting “society case,” of the kind +which amused and intrigued her special set of friends, amused and +intrigued her too; though only if there was nothing going on at the +time in her own life of infinitely greater moment. As to what is +called, often erroneously, “a murder mystery” she had never felt any +interest at all. +</p> + +<p> +Her look of innocent inquiry at once effaced from Dr. Berwick’s mind +what might have been described as a gossamer suspicion which he had +now and again entertained, during the last ten days, with regard to +his patient’s wife. +</p> + +<p> +He did not answer her question at once. Instead he asked her slowly, +“I suppose you have some man relative who can see to everything for +you? Though I advise that no arrangements be made to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +“No arrangements?” She looked at him surprised. “Does that mean——” +she waited for a moment, then went on, “that poor Jervis’s funeral +cannot take place as soon as nurse thought it might?” +</p> + +<p> +“Nurse? What did nurse say?” he asked quickly. +</p> + +<p> +She realised at once that she had made a mistake in mentioning nurse. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy was only clever with regard to those men—they were in the great +majority—whom she instinctively knew to be strongly attracted to her +lovely self. +</p> + +<p> +“Nurse seemed to think that the funeral could be on Thursday,” she +answered in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Nothing can be settled till the post-mortem has taken place, Mrs. +Lexton. Once the cause of death has been ascertained, the funeral can, +of course, take place at once.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy had moved away while he was speaking, and she was now standing by +the writing-table, with her back to the window. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly, mechanically, she repeated: “The cause of death?” +</p> + +<p> +Though she uttered the four words in her usual voice, there had +suddenly swept over her a sensation of intense terror. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure that you feel quite as anxious as I do, Mrs. Lexton, to know +what can have brought about your husband’s death in so sudden and +mysterious a fashion,” said Dr. Berwick earnestly. “I have not +concealed from you that to me this case, ever since I took charge of +Mr. Lexton, presented more than one puzzling feature.” +</p> + +<p> +Though, unlike his wife, he felt quite sure that the attractive, silly +young creature before him had never returned Roger Gretorex’s love, +she had certainly been foolishly imprudent. With indulgent contempt he +told himself that she was the sort of woman who always likes to have +an adoring swain hanging about her. +</p> + +<p> +“I think it more than likely,” he said, getting up, and speaking far +more lightly than before, “that nothing untoward will be discovered as +a result of the post-mortem—which, by the way, simply means an +examination. But still, if only for my own satisfaction, and I’m sure +that my feelings will be shared by Dr. Lancaster, I should like to be +able to put what is the truth, rather than a mere guess, as to the +cause of Mr. Lexton’s death on the certificate.” +</p> + +<p> +Again he had uttered those awful words—<i>the cause of… death</i>. +</p> + +<p> +She forced herself to say, with a look of childish appeal, “I daresay +you’ll think it strange, Dr. Berwick, but this is the first time in my +life that I’ve ever been even in the same house where——” +</p> + +<p> +She stopped, and he supplied the end of her sentence. +</p> + +<p> +“—there has been a death? That is not so strange as you may think, +Mrs. Lexton. Some people go through a long life without coming in +contact even with serious illness.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s that which makes it all so dreadful,” and again she melted into +tears. +</p> + +<p> +She was telling herself that if they really found out anything as a +result of—what was that strange, terrifying term?—the post-mortem, +then this hard-faced man standing there might make a great difference, +perhaps all the difference, to her being, well, worried. +</p> + +<p> +Her look of appeal, her tears, did touch the doctor. He asked himself +idly what age this lovely little woman could be? She looked so +amazingly young. Not a day over twenty! But she must, of course, be +much older than that, for Jervis Lexton had talked on one occasion as +if they had been married quite a long time. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy felt the wave of kindly feeling, and was reassured. +</p> + +<p> +“I shall be so lonely now,” she said plaintively. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you no woman friend who would come and stay with you, Mrs. +Lexton? In any case, you ought to communicate with your husband’s +lawyers. I suppose Mr. Lexton’s life was insured?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Jervis was not insured.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked surprised at the question. +</p> + +<p> +“He quarrelled with his lawyer last year,” she added forlornly. “And +our one really great friend, Miles Rushworth, lives at Liverpool, but +he is in South Africa just now.” +</p> + +<p> +“You mean the owner of the Rushworth Line?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my husband was in his London office. I’m going to cable to Mr. +Rushworth. It’s so dreadful to feel I’ve no one to turn to.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should think Dr. Gretorex might be able to help you?” +</p> + +<p> +He uttered the commonplace words in a tone he tried to make +matter-of-fact. Still, he threw her a quick look, and he did become +aware that the half-question had disturbed her. Though how much he had +disturbed her he was never to know. +</p> + +<p> +She turned to the writing-table, and began piling the papers which lay +on it to one side, and then there rose before her inner vision a view +of Roger Gretorex’s surgery as it had looked on that evening when she +had been surprised, just for a moment, by his old charwoman. She saw +again the jar labelled “<span class="sc">Arsenic</span>” standing on the deal table. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not quite sure where Dr. Gretorex is just now. Besides, he’s so +dreadfully busy.” +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Berwick reminded himself that the poor little woman had +undoubtedly been trying to put an end to Gretorex’s infatuation. +Gretorex’s own letter had proved that. So it was decent of her not to +send for him just now. +</p> + +<p> +“I must be going, Mrs. Lexton, for I have a great deal of work to get +through this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +He took her hand in his, and then he felt startled, for it was icy +cold. Poor, pretty little thing! She had evidently had a more serious +shock than he had supposed. In her own childish way she must have been +really fond of that feckless, yet not unattractive, chap. +</p> + +<p> +True, she had been no more use in the sick-room than an officious, +affectionate child would have been! And only this last week he had +thought it oddly heartless of her to have been out almost the whole of +every day. But he realised, now, that she had never before come in +contact with serious illness.… +</p> + +<p> +However, there could be no doubt as to her real grief and sense of +loss. There were black lines round her long-fringed, violet eyes; +marks of tears still stained her roseleaf-tinted cheeks. And—and she +was really so lovely that now, when bidding her good-bye, he did hold +her hand maybe a thought longer than he need have done. +</p> + +<p> +“Get out of doors all you can,” he said feelingly. “Go and walk in +Kensington Gardens now, till lunch time. And don’t worry about +anything! As far as will be possible, I promise to save you all +trouble and anxiety.” +</p> + +<p> +She gave his strong hand an affectionate squeeze. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you, doctor, I shall never +forget how awfully kind you’ve been.” +</p> + +<p> +Till a few moments ago she had thought Dr. Berwick very unkind, but +Ivy Lexton was dowered with so great a power of self-deception that +she really did believe what she had just said. +</p> + +<p> +As the doctor was going quickly through the hall, Nurse Bradfield came +out of the dining-room. +</p> + +<p> +“You wanted to see me, Dr. Berwick?” +</p> + +<p> +“Did I? Well, I don’t think I need trouble you after all, nurse. Wait +a moment, though. I’d just like to have your address. I suppose you +are leaving here to-day?” +</p> + +<p> +Nurse Bradfield was genuinely surprised. She had felt so sure that the +doctor thought but poorly of her; and she on her side had no wish to +nurse under him again. Still, one never can tell! She took a card out +of her handbag, and handed it to him. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s going to be a post-mortem,” he said suddenly, and then he +looked at her hard. Had she had no suspicion of anything being wrong? +</p> + +<p> +Her evident astonishment answered his unspoken question even before +she said in a surprised tone: “Have you any doubt yourself, doctor, as +to the cause of Mr. Lexton’s death?” +</p> + +<p> +He nearly replied: “The greatest doubt! In fact, I don’t feel I can +sign the death certificate.” +</p> + +<p> +But he checked himself. It wouldn’t do for her to go and frighten that +poor little woman. After all, his suspicions might be—he certainly +hoped they were—absolutely unjustified. +</p> + +<p> +And then it was her turn to astonish him. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope Mrs. Lexton won’t be put to any great expense,” she murmured. +“In spite of this lovely flat, and her wonderful clothes, I’m afraid +they were very poor. In fact, Mr. Lexton, when he was wandering so +much these last two days, talked a lot about money, and seemed to +blame himself very much. But I should say that it was she who was +extravagant!” +</p> + +<p> +“Extravagant?” said the doctor, surprised. “Is Mrs. Lexton +extravagant? I should have thought she had very simple tastes.” +</p> + +<p> +Nurse Bradfield smiled to herself. “Men are soft where a pretty face +is concerned,” she reminded herself tolerantly. +</p> + +<p> +Then aloud she said: “Mrs. Lexton spends a great deal of money over +her clothes—and I know that she is a good bit in debt. There was a +man here the day before yesterday who said he wouldn’t go away till he +was paid. But he had to, at last, for she wasn’t in till midnight. We +must hope that Mr. Lexton was well insured.” +</p> + +<p> +“He wasn’t insured at all,” said the doctor shortly. “I asked Mrs. +Lexton, for had he been, she ought at once to have informed the +insurance company.” +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +For the first time in his professional life Dr. Berwick went home in +what he himself described as “the middle of his round.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Berwick saw the motor draw up outside their little house, and +running out into the hall she opened the front door. +</p> + +<p> +“Darling!” she cried, “did you forget anything?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Janey, I forgot nothing. But I’ve got to arrange for a +post-mortem, so I thought it better to come back here, rather than +ring up from a call office.” +</p> + +<p> +She saw that he was excited and disturbed, and, being a wise woman, +she asked him no questions. But she was not surprised when, instead of +going straight off to the telephone, he turned into their +sitting-room, and shut the door behind him. +</p> + +<p> +“Janey?” he said slowly. “You know that that poor chap Lexton died +last night? Mrs. Lexton, as usual, was out. She came in to find him +dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“How dreadful!” +</p> + +<p> +“He was better, it seems, in the morning—very much better. Then Roger +Gretorex came in and sat with him some time alone or so I gather from +the nurse.” +</p> + +<p> +There followed a long, pregnant silence between the husband and wife. +Then there came over Mrs. Berwick’s face a look of terrible dismay. +</p> + +<p> +“D’you mean that you suspect——?” And there was a world of horror in +her voice. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t suspect anything,” he answered sharply. “And I certainly +don’t want you to put words into my mouth, or even thoughts into my +mind. There’s going to be a post-mortem, so we shall soon know part of +the truth, at any rate.” +</p> + +<p> +She waited a moment, and her voice sank almost to a whisper. +</p> + +<p> +“Then Mrs. Lexton consents to a post-mortem?” +</p> + +<p> +“Her consent was not asked,” he said brusquely. “But I’ll tell you one +thing, Janey. If there’s been any foul play, she’s not in it. I’ve +thoroughly satisfied myself of that.” +</p> + +<p> +“But Roger Gretorex? A doctor? How terrible!” +</p> + +<p> +“I know,” he muttered. “But, Janey?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, dear?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think it’s ninety-nine chances to one against my half-suspicion +turning out to be the truth. What with his impudence in prescribing +for my patient, and that queer love-letter of his—well, I’m +prejudiced against the chap.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m not surprised at that,” she breathed. +</p> + +<p> +Indeed, she, Janey Berwick herself, felt strongly prejudiced against +Roger Gretorex. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch09"> +Chapter Nine +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Roger Gretorex</span> had gone back to his consulting-room after a long +morning’s round. He loved his work, yet to-day his heart was not in +it, for he was extraordinarily excited, and moved as he had never +before felt moved in his twenty-eight years of life. +</p> + +<p> +He had come up early from Sussex by a workman’s train, and had found +waiting for him an undated and unsigned note in Ivy Lexton’s +handwriting: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +I’m not quite sure if you are in London; but I know you will be very +sorry to hear that Jervis died suddenly last night. +</p> + +<p> +I hardly know what I am doing—the shock has been so great. Nurse says +his heart must have given way. I would rather not see anybody for a +little while. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Now that his morning’s work was over, he was free to commune with his +own thoughts, and to dwell on what the future now held for him—a +lifetime of bliss with the woman whom he worshipped, and who had given +him the greatest proof of her love a woman can give a man. +</p> + +<p> +His cherished darling was free—free to become, after a decent +interval had elapsed, his adored, honoured wife in the face of the +world! He thanked God that he had never let his mother know the truth +concerning their past relations. He thanked God again that the only +time the two had met had been in those early days when he and Ivy had +just been friends, and when he, at any rate, had thought that so they +would remain. +</p> + +<p> +True, his mother was far too clever, too devoted to him, her only +child, not to guess, even then, that he was in love with Ivy. She had +even ventured to say a word to him as to the danger of too close a +friendship with a married woman. And he had bitterly resented it. He +remembered her words, and his answer, “You’re wrong, mother. Ivy +Lexton is the best and purest woman I have ever known!” +</p> + +<p> +No wonder that, as he had gone in and out of the poor dwellings of his +patients this morning, he had asked himself, again and again, how long +it would be before he and Ivy could declare their love? +</p> + +<p> +He remembered a war widow in their neighbourhood who had married again +within four months of her husband’s being killed. Still, the world is +very different in peace-time from what it is in war-time. All he would +have to consider would be his own mother’s sense of what was right and +fitting. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy’s friends? His sensitive lips curled in disdain. They would +scarcely be surprised if she re-married a week after her husband’s +death! +</p> + +<p> +Then, suddenly, there came over him a feeling which, to such a man as +Roger Gretorex, was painfully like shame. +</p> + +<p> +Jervis Lexton had been something of a wastrel and all of a fool, but +the young man had also been, according to his lights, a good husband. +It was not Jervis’s fault that Ivy had never loved him. Her heartless, +money-loving mother had forced her into the marriage when she was +almost a child. Such was the story she had told Gretorex, and that +story he implicitly believed. +</p> + +<p> +He told himself that the only decent thing to do, now, would be to +write her a short note of regret and sympathy, as cold and colourless +as hers had been. +</p> + +<p> +How he longed, how he ached, to see her! But it was clear she wished +to see no one, not even him, the one closest to her, yet. +</p> + +<p> +The long morning of pent-up emotion, and of really hard work, had +tired him out—made him feel, too, suddenly very hungry. He got up and +took his hat off the peg on the door, intending to snatch a hasty meal +at a restaurant in Victoria Street hard by. +</p> + +<p> +Then, just as he was turning towards the door, the telephone bell +rang. With a feeling of irritation he took up the receiver. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes?” he called out impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +And then there came over him a thrill of intense joy, for the voice +which said in a tremulous tone, “Is that you, darling?” was Ivy +Lexton’s voice. +</p> + +<p> +She had not called him “darling” once, since her return to London, and +that though he knew she often used the endearing term, even to the pet +dogs of her women friends. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course it is,” he answered tenderly. “How are you, dearest? A +little less tired and”—he forced himself to add the word—“unhappy?” +</p> + +<p> +And then he heard her voice again; but now it was full of a kind of +cold urgency. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve something so dreadfully important to say to you—are you alone +in the house?” +</p> + +<p> +“Absolutely alone,” he called back reassuringly. +</p> + +<p> +He did not count Mrs. Huntley, the old woman who lived a door or two +off, and who “did” for him, as anybody. +</p> + +<p> +“Please don’t say my name, and I won’t say yours. Telephones are +tapped sometimes, and I’m so—so frightened,” came the whispered +words. +</p> + +<p> +There followed a long pause, and Gretorex suddenly felt filled with an +unreasoning sensation of acute apprehension. There had been that in +Ivy’s tremulous tones which he had never heard there before—a note of +horrible fear. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you listening?” came at last the beloved voice, sounding now +startlingly near. +</p> + +<p> +“I can hear you perfectly.” +</p> + +<p> +“Something so dreadful has happened! I don’t know how to tell you. +It’s so—so strange. You’d never guess what it was!” +</p> + +<p> +He tried to curb his anxiety, his suspense, his impatience. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it that has happened?” he asked quietly. +</p> + +<p> +Again there followed a long unnatural pause. Then, at last, Ivy Lexton +breathed the words: +</p> + +<p> +“The doctors found out yesterday that poor—you know who I mean—did +not die what they call a natural death.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not a natural death?” he repeated in a tone of amazement. “What do +you mean, darling?” +</p> + +<p> +“They say he died of some kind of poison.” +</p> + +<p> +“Poison! D’you mean he committed suicide?” he asked incredulously. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, they don’t think that.” +</p> + +<p> +Then, in a tone of great relief, she added: “But I suppose he may have +done so.” +</p> + +<p> +Gretorex felt not only exceedingly surprised, but inexpressibly +shocked as well. +</p> + +<p> +“I should be very loth to believe that,” he said at last. +</p> + +<p> +“What I really want to tell you is that a dreadful man has been to see +me this morning. He’s only been gone about half an hour. I was afraid +to telephone from my own—” She waited a moment, then uttered the word +“house.” “I’m speaking from a call office.” +</p> + +<p> +“What did the man say? Who was he?” he asked. +</p> + +<p> +“He had to do with the police and he said he was going to see you as +soon as he’d had something to eat. I said you generally went to your +club to lunch, and that you wouldn’t be back before three.” +</p> + +<p> +“Why should he want to see me?” Gretorex said wonderingly. +</p> + +<p> +“He seemed to know so much about you. So much”—her voice sank—“about +<i>us</i>. He asked me such funny questions, darling. Of course I told +him—I told him,” her voice faltered, “that you were just a great +friend of mine and of—you know of whom?” +</p> + +<p> +“So I am. So I was——” +</p> + +<p> +But Roger Gretorex was no fool, and his whole being had become +flooded, these last few moments, with an awful sensation of dismay and +foreboding. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me exactly what it was this man asked you, and what you said to +him, my pet?” +</p> + +<p> +He tried to make his voice sound confident and reassuring. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t tell you everything over the telephone. It would take too +long. He wasn’t really disagreeable. In fact, we ended up quite good +friends. But he said it was his duty to find out the truth, as that +horrible man—you know whom I mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he called back rather sharply, “I have no idea whom you mean! +Can’t you speak plainly, darling? No one is in the least likely to be +listening over the wire.” +</p> + +<p> +And then she breathed the one name that she did breathe during that +strange, to Gretorex that terrible and ominous, telephone +conversation. +</p> + +<p> +“I mean Dr. Berwick, of course. He told them, I suppose, about you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who do you mean by ‘them’?” +</p> + +<p> +“The people at Scotland Yard.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what could Dr. Berwick tell anybody about me?” +</p> + +<p> +“That you used to come to the flat—that we were friends.” +</p> + +<p> +And then, in an imploring voice that was scarcely audible, she +murmured: +</p> + +<p> +“You won’t give me away, dear? You will never let anyone know +that——” +</p> + +<p> +Interrupting her he exclaimed, “There’s nothing to give away! You and +I have only been friends—nothing more.” +</p> + +<p> +He felt a thrill of relief when she said, in a more natural tone: +</p> + +<p> +“That’s exactly what I said. I mean that’s what I told the man who +came from Scotland Yard. I think he did believe me at last, but——” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes?” asked Gretorex anxiously. “But what, my dear?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was silly enough to let out that you had been rather fond of me, in +a sort of a way.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry you did that. I’m afraid that was a mistake. I mean——” +</p> + +<p> +“I know what you mean! The moment I’d said it I saw what a mistake I’d +made! But he spoke as if he already knew such a lot, or at any rate, +some part of it.” +</p> + +<p> +He said patiently, “What part of it?” +</p> + +<p> +“That even if I didn’t care for you, you had been very fond of me.” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t see that our private affairs are anyone’s business but our +own,” he said savagely. +</p> + +<p> +She answered despairingly, “Neither do I. But there it is! I know +he’ll talk about me to you.” +</p> + +<p> +Gretorex felt as if he were living through a hideous nightmare. What +could, what did, all that Ivy had said, and was saying, mean? +</p> + +<p> +“There’s something else I must tell you and warn you about, before I +ring off. The man actually asked me, darling, if I’d ever been to see +you—I mean alone. Of course I said no, that I had never been alone to +see you. Why should I? But I did tell him about the time I came to tea +with Rose Arundell, when Captain Chichester came too. The man from +Scotland Yard is sure to ask you about that—at least I’m afraid so.” +</p> + +<p> +“About my tea-party? Why should he?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, no,” she cried shrilly. +</p> + +<p> +Then, in a low tone, she uttered the words, “He’ll certainly ask you +whether I ever came to see you alone, at Ferry Place. Don’t you +understand?” +</p> + +<p> +“I hear what you say. But everyone we know is aware that we’ve been +great friends. There’s no mystery about it.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s what I said. And also that you were so fond of—you know who, +and he so fond of you.” +</p> + +<p> +To that Gretorex made no answer. In a sense it was true that poor +Jervis Lexton had become quite fond of him, and that this was so had +made him feel wretched and ashamed. +</p> + +<p> +“Forgive me for having worried you, dear——” +</p> + +<p> +There was something—he would not even to himself use the +words—cringing, even abject, in the tone in which she uttered that +poor little sentence. +</p> + +<p> +He answered at once, “You could never worry me, my darling! I can’t +help thinking there’s some queer, spiteful enemy of yours, some cruel +woman, behind all this?” +</p> + +<p> +She cried hysterically, “It’s a spiteful, cruel man! It’s Dr. +Berwick—I know it is!” +</p> + +<p> +“But why d’you think that, darling?” +</p> + +<p> +Gretorex waited a moment, then asked in almost a whisper, “Was he fond +of you? Did he make love to you?” +</p> + +<p> +She was so long in answering his question that, for a moment, he +thought they had been cut off. Then he heard the muffled reply, “Not +exactly, though of course he liked me. But—but he hated you! I do +know that.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” and he thought that he did. +</p> + +<p> +“Dr. Berwick wouldn’t sign some kind of a certificate which nurse says +a doctor always has to sign when a person dies,” she went on. “You +know what I mean?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” +</p> + +<p> +“That’s why they had what is called a post-mortem, and found out my +poor sweet had been——” her voice faltered. +</p> + +<p> +It was, even now, like a blow between the eyes for Gretorex to hear +Ivy call Jervis “my poor sweet.” +</p> + +<p> +Again she waited a while then he heard her whispered, agitated, +half-question: +</p> + +<p> +“I do so wonder what that man will say to you? I feel so horribly +nervous.” +</p> + +<p> +He said impatiently, “I don’t suppose he’ll say much. But of course +it’s the business of the police to get in touch with everyone who can +throw even a little light on a mysterious death.” +</p> + +<p> +“You’ll be very, very careful?” +</p> + +<p> +For the moment he could not think what she meant. +</p> + +<p> +Then, with a painful feeling of self-rebuke and fear, he hastened to +reassure her, “Of course I will! Not that there’s anything to be +careful about.” +</p> + +<p> +“I must go home now,” and he heard her blow him a kiss. +</p> + +<p> +She hadn’t done that for—it seemed an eternity to him. +</p> + +<p> +He hung up the receiver, went across to his writing-table, and sat +down. He must think hard, and prepare some sort of story. But even now +he could not imagine why his name, his personality, were being brought +into this mysterious affair of Jervis Lexton’s sudden death. +</p> + +<p> +Jervis Lexton’s death caused by poison? And the police already making +inquiries? The whole story sounded incredible to Roger Gretorex. He +told himself that of course some extraordinary mistake had been made. +But whose mistake? +</p> + +<p> +His mind turned at last to Dr. Berwick. He had only seen the man +once—and a damned offensive fellow he had seemed to be! So much did +Gretorex remember. But Berwick was more than that—he was a blackguard +who had made love to a patient’s wife. +</p> + +<p> +Poor little Ivy! Poor precious little love! No wonder she had been +frightened, made quite unlike her gay, brave self, by the ordeal she +had just gone through. How he longed to go and seize her in his arms, +to bear her away to some place where they could be just +themselves—lovers! +</p> + +<p> +The thought of a crowded restaurant was intolerable. He no longer felt +hungry. Besides, the man, he supposed him to be a detective, mentioned +by Ivy, would soon be here. +</p> + +<p> +All at once he heard the sounds made by a broom in the passage +outside. +</p> + +<p> +He opened the door. “Will you come in here for a moment, Mrs. +Huntley?” +</p> + +<p> +The old woman shuffled into the room, and he looked at her fixedly. +</p> + +<p> +“I feel very tired to-day—too tired to go out.” +</p> + +<p> +Taking a two-shilling piece out of his pocket, he handed it to her: +“Will you get me some pressed beef or ham? I suppose there’s bread and +butter in the house? I’m ashamed to bother you, for I know you’re in a +hurry to get home.” +</p> + +<p> +Said Mrs. Huntley, with a rather pathetic laugh, “I’d do a good bit +more than that for you, doctor! Why, I’d go to any trouble for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Huntley?” +</p> + +<p> +He moved a little nearer to the old woman. +</p> + +<p> +“You’ve just said that you’d go to any trouble for me——” +</p> + +<p> +“Ay, and so I would! I’ll never forget how good you were to that poor +daughter of mine. Why, it’s thanks to you that she died easy. I’m not +likely to forget that, however long I may live.” +</p> + +<p> +“The time has come when you can do something—something very +important—for me,” he said, wondering if he were being wise or +foolish. +</p> + +<p> +“Can I, sir? You’ve only got to say what it is. I don’t mind no +trouble.” +</p> + +<p> +“I regard you,” he said slowly, “as a very superior person, as well as +a very trustworthy one, Mrs. Huntley.” +</p> + +<p> +She grew red with pleasure at his kind, flattering words, and, +troubled as he was, Gretorex’s heart went out to her. +</p> + +<p> +“All I want you to do,” he went on, “is to hold your tongue on my +behalf. The time may come when you will be asked what sort of visitors +I have received since I came to live here. You may be questioned as to +whether any ladies ever came to see me——” +</p> + +<p> +He waited a moment, feeling acutely uncomfortable at having to ask the +old woman to lie for him. +</p> + +<p> +“You will be doing me a great service, Mrs. Huntley, if you will +answer that no friends ever come to see me unless they have an +appointment. Also that, to the best of your belief, the only time you +have ever seen any lady here was when I gave a tea-party some time +ago. Do I make myself quite clear?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir, quite clear.” +</p> + +<p> +“And have I your promise?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir, you have my promise.” +</p> + +<p> +He took her withered, work-worn hand in his. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m very grateful to you. This may mean more to me than you will ever +know.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll go and get the things for your lunch, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +She shut the door behind her, and a moment later, as he saw her pass +the window, a hot tide of humiliation seemed to overwhelm him. He had +seen, by the expression on her face, that everything there was to +know, she knew. +</p> + +<p> +As for Mrs. Huntley, she felt quite sure that Dr. Gretorex, who, +though she knew him to be far from well off, had spared neither time +nor money in his care of her dying daughter, was about to figure as a +co-respondent in a divorce case. +</p> + +<p> +Well, in so far as she could help him, she’d do anything. Lie for him? +Of course she would! Where’s the good of caring for a person if you’re +not willing to do anything for him or her? Such was Mrs. Huntley’s +simple philosophy of life. She was a good hater as well as a good +lover. In her fashion she loved Gretorex, but she hated Ivy Lexton. +</p> + +<p> +Those who are called “the poor” are seldom deceived in a man’s or a +woman’s real nature and character. They are too close up against the +hard realities of life to make many mistakes. It requires no +touchstone to teach them the difference between dross and gold. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +About three o’clock the telephone bell rang again. +</p> + +<p> +Gretorex hoped for a moment to hear Ivy’s voice again, but it was a +man who asked, “Can I speak to Dr. Roger Gretorex?” +</p> + +<p> +“My name is Roger Gretorex.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have a matter of business to discuss with you, Dr. Gretorex; and +I’m telephoning to know if I may come along now, as you are in?” +</p> + +<p> +“Pray do so. But may I ask your name? And would you mind telling me +your business?” he called back. +</p> + +<p> +“My name is Orpington. As to my business, it would take too long to +explain. But I will be with you in a very few minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +Mechanically Gretorex began to tidy his consulting-room. For the first +time in his life he felt horribly afraid, he knew not of what, but +that made his dread of the coming inquisition all the sharper, the +fuller of suspense. +</p> + +<p> +His mother had managed to keep one conservatory going, and though he +had given away a good many of the flowers he had brought up with him +this morning, there was still a lovely nosegay on his writing-table. +And the sight of these fragrant blossoms recalled poignantly to her +son’s mind the woman who had gathered them for him. Was he going to +bring sorrow, and what to her would be worse than sorrow—shame—on +her honoured name? +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch10"> +Chapter Ten +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">As Inspector Orpington</span>, of the Criminal Investigation Department, +Scotland Yard, entered dusty, poverty-stricken Ferry Place, he made up +his mind that he would be, so far as was possible in the +circumstances, frank with the man he was on his way to see with regard +to Jervis Lexton’s death. +</p> + +<p> +Like many an Englishman of his type, he had his own clear, if +unexpressed, philosophy of life. He preferred the straight to the +tortuous way, and that, it may incidentally be observed, is true of +all the really successful men in his peculiar line of work. +</p> + +<p> +Such men naturally suffer from the defects of their qualities. +Inspector Orpington had no belief in what he called to himself the +French methods of criminal investigation. For one thing, he was +convinced, and backed his conviction from experience, that in the vast +majority of cases there is seldom anything mysterious, or out of the +way, even in the best-planned and most intelligent type of crime. +</p> + +<p> +With regard to the case concerning which he had just been ordered to +make certain preliminary inquiries, the story he had been able to +piece together was even now, from his point of view, a straightforward +story of illicit love leading to a cold-blooded and cruel murder. He +had already interviewed the dead man’s two regular medical attendants, +his trained nurse, and last, but by no means least, his tearful, +hysterical, and singularly attractive young widow. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy Lexton remained, in Inspector Orpington’s mind, the one point of +doubt and mystery, if indeed “mystery” you could call it, in the +affair. +</p> + +<p> +He had found it very difficult to make up his mind as to whether Mrs. +Lexton was entirely innocent regarding the events which had led to +Lexton’s death. He had detected certain flaws in the story she had +appeared, in spite of her agitation, so willing to tell. But he had +been naturally impressed by the firm conviction expressed by the two +doctors who had attended Jervis Lexton. They had both declared that +their patient’s wife had been not only innocent, but quite +unsuspicious, of the sinister tragedy which had undoubtedly been +enacted during the fortnight which had preceded her husband’s death. +</p> + +<p> +Dr. Berwick had said brusquely: “Why, the woman was never there! She +was out morning, noon, and night. I myself only saw her three times, +each time only for a few minutes, and only once with her husband.” +</p> + +<p> +Orpington had also been struck by the liking both the nurse and the +cook showed for Lexton’s widow; and that though they both admitted she +was selfish and pleasure-loving. +</p> + +<p> +But what weighed the scale most of all in favour of Ivy’s complete +innocence was the fact that the life of Jervis Lexton had not been +insured, and that with her husband apparently disappeared the poor, +pretty little woman’s only source of income. +</p> + +<p> +Long experience had convinced Inspector Orpington that there are only +two outstanding motives for secret murder—money, and the passion +called love. As he considered the story in all its bearings, it seemed +plain to him that, whereas it had been very much to Ivy Lexton’s +interest to keep her husband alive, this young man, Roger Gretorex, +had undoubtedly had a strong motive for compassing his death. Mrs. +Lexton, in the course of the long examination and cross-examination to +which she had been submitted this morning, had admitted, albeit with a +certain reluctance, that Roger Gretorex not only passionately loved +her, but had also at various times pestered her with unwelcome +attentions. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +Everyone interested in the detection of crime is aware that persons +arrested on a charge of murder are always solemnly warned that +anything said by them may be used in evidence against them. But +probably few people know that the giving of any such warning is left +to the discretion of the C.I.D. men who are engaged in those +preliminary inquiries which, in the majority of cases, do end by +bringing a murderer to justice. Certain rules are laid down for their +guidance; but even so a great deal is left to the ordering of their +own consciences, to what each individual considers it fair or unfair +to ask of one who may be actually suspected of having committed the +crime under investigation. +</p> + +<p> +Orpington’s object was to get at the truth. It was his considered +opinion that the guilty are painfully alive to their danger, and will +go to any length to protect themselves. In their case the plainest +warning is wasted. As to an innocent witness, he believed the best way +to put him or her at ease is to be reasonably frank. +</p> + +<p> +He felt sure that, in Roger Gretorex, he would find one both +forewarned and forearmed. What he desired to know, as a result of his +coming interview with the young doctor, was how far Mrs. Lexton had +told the truth as to her relations with the man who, owing to his +passion for herself, had almost certainly poisoned her husband. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly he walked, with the sergeant he had brought with him, down the +now deserted, airless little street. What a contrast to the broad +avenue in which stood the fine block of flats known as Duke of Kent +Mansion! It was difficult to believe that the woman with whom he had +spent over an hour this morning, in the shadowed drawing-room where +everything spelt not only comfort, but affluence and luxury, could +have been on terms of close intimacy with a man who lived in Ferry +Place. +</p> + +<p> +Before he had time to ring the bell, the narrow front door of the tiny +two-storied house opened, and the person he had come to see and, he +felt sure, to convict of the most hideous and cruel form of murder +known to civilised man, stood before him. +</p> + +<p> +What a fine young chap! And what a haughty, sombre, defiant +countenance! +</p> + +<p> +Yet the voice in which Gretorex uttered the commonplace words, “Will +you come in?” was a deep, pleasant, cultivated voice. +</p> + +<p> +The doctor led his two visitors into his consulting-room, a room +which, though poorly furnished, was yet, as the inspector quickly +noted, that of a man accustomed to the amenities of life. For one +thing he noticed the lovely bunch of fragrant hot-house flowers +standing in a glass on the writing-table. He felt what he very seldom +did feel—surprised. +</p> + +<p> +As the three men sat down, Gretorex full in what light came in through +his one window, the inspector observed: +</p> + +<p> +“My name, doctor, as I told you over the telephone, is Orpington, and +I am attached to the Criminal Investigation Department of Scotland +Yard. I have come to ask you certain questions concerning the death of +a gentleman who was at one time, I understand, a patient of yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“If you will tell me his name, I will look up his case,” said Gretorex +quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“His name was Jervis Lexton, and his death took place last Tuesday in +Flat 9 of Duke of Kent Mansion, Kensington.” +</p> + +<p> +“Jervis Lexton was never a patient of mine,” the young man answered +firmly; and then he hesitated, and finally added, “He was a friend—I +suppose I might even say a great friend.” +</p> + +<p> +“Are you already aware of the circumstances concerning Mr. Jervis +Lexton’s death, Dr. Gretorex?” +</p> + +<p> +And then Roger Gretorex told the first of the lies he felt it +incumbent on him to tell during this, to him, terrible interview. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been in the country for nearly a week, and I only learnt on my +return here, this morning, of Mr. Lexton’s death. I am as yet unaware +of the circumstances to which I presume I owe your visit.” +</p> + +<p> +He waited a moment, then told the inspector what was indeed the truth: +</p> + +<p> +“I was exceedingly surprised to learn of his death, for I had seen him +just before leaving town. Though I thought him far less well than the +last time I had been with him, there was nothing to indicate the +seriousness of his condition.” +</p> + +<p> +“Yet you told the nurse that you were dismayed by the change in his +appearance?” +</p> + +<p> +“I daresay I did. She thought him distinctly better, I do remember +that, and I disagreed with her.” +</p> + +<p> +“You did not ask to see Mr. Lexton, Dr. Gretorex. The nurse tells me +your call was on Mrs. Lexton. As that lady was out, Nurse Bradfield, I +understand, suggested you should see her patient, as she thought it +would cheer him up.” +</p> + +<p> +“That is so, and I was not with him for more than ten minutes.” +</p> + +<p> +“You were, I think, alone with him during that time?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I was.” +</p> + +<p> +“You went down to the country immediately after seeing him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes. I went to my home in the country the same afternoon, and, as I +told you just now, I only came back this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Jervis Lexton died during the evening of the day you saw +him—that is, on Tuesday, the 16th of November. His regular medical +attendant, Dr. Berwick, was not satisfied as to the cause of death. A +post-mortem was held on the Thursday, and revealed the fact that +Lexton’s death was due to a large dose of arsenic administered some +hours before death. According to Nurse Bradfield, you, Dr. Gretorex, +were the last person, apart from herself and, I believe, the cook, who +saw him alive. That is why I am here.” +</p> + +<p> +Gretorex stared at the speaker in silence; and, gradually, all the +colour ebbed from his face. +</p> + +<p> +In spite of himself the inspector felt sorry for the young man. He +told himself that Roger Gretorex evidently saw the game was up. Still, +the doctor looked the sort of chap who would put up a fight for it. +</p> + +<p> +Inspector Orpington made an almost imperceptible sign to the sergeant +he had brought with him, and the man at once quietly left the room. +</p> + +<p> +Orpington got up and looked out of the window until he saw his +sergeant in the street outside. Then he turned and said to Gretorex: +</p> + +<p> +“I sent my sergeant out of the room, doctor, because I am obliged now +to ask you a question which I thought you would prefer to have put to +you privately. You were, I understand, a friend of Mrs. Lexton’s as +well as a friend of her husband?” +</p> + +<p> +“I was on terms of friendship with them both,” and his face turned +deeply red. +</p> + +<p> +“But you saw much more of Mrs. Lexton than you did of her husband?” +</p> + +<p> +This was a bow drawn at a venture, and it brought down the quarry. +</p> + +<p> +“I sometimes escorted Mrs. Lexton to a picture gallery, and now and +again we went to a theatre together. But——” he waited a moment, and +the colour ebbed from his face. Though what he was going to say was +true, he hated saying it—“Mr. and Mrs. Lexton always seemed on the +best of terms together.” +</p> + +<p> +“So I understand. But I am not seeking information as to the relations +of Mr. and Mrs. Lexton. What I wish to suggest, without offence, is +that you, Dr. Gretorex, would have liked to have been on closer terms +of friendship with Mrs. Lexton than she thought it right to allow? I +will be frank with you—Mrs. Lexton has admitted as much.” +</p> + +<p> +A burning flush again rose to Gretorex’s dark face. Poor Ivy! Poor, +foolish little darling! He did not feel the slightest feeling of anger +with her. He only felt a choking sensation of dismay. Whatever had +possessed her to say such a thing? +</p> + +<p> +He answered, speaking quietly, passionlessly, “Mrs. Lexton is a very +attractive woman, and a beautiful woman. It is difficult to be with +her without feeling inclined to—well——” and as he hesitated, the +older man smiled. +</p> + +<p> +“To make love to her? I absolutely agree, Dr. Gretorex. Though she was +naturally very much upset when I saw her this morning, I thought Mrs. +Lexton one of the most engaging, as well as one of the best-looking, +young ladies I had ever come across.” +</p> + +<p> +Poor Gretorex! He would have liked to have struck Inspector Orpington +across the face, and yet his own words had called up the look that had +so grossly offended him on the other’s countenance, and had also +provoked his remark. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you admit, Dr. Gretorex, that you were very much attracted to this +lady?” +</p> + +<p> +“You put me in a difficult position; but I admit that perhaps I did +say one or two foolish things to her.” +</p> + +<p> +He was wondering, with a feeling of agonising anxiety, whether Ivy had +kept his letters. +</p> + +<p> +“Did Mrs. Lexton ever by chance come here, to 6 Ferry Place?” +</p> + +<p> +“She came to tea on one occasion, but not alone, of course. A friend +of hers, a widow called Mrs. Arundell, and a man friend of Mrs. +Arundell’s, came with her.” +</p> + +<p> +And then Roger Gretorex leant forward: +</p> + +<p> +“I do hope that you will believe me when I tell you that any—well, +feeling of attraction, was entirely on my side. When I did, I admit +very foolishly, once try to tell her——” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped, and the other interjected, not unkindly, “How much she +attracted you?” +</p> + +<p> +Gretorex nodded, and then he gasped out the lying words—“She made me +feel at once she was not that kind of woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose,” said the inspector with a twinkle in his eyes, “that Mrs. +Lexton used that very expression.” +</p> + +<p> +Gretorex tried to smile back. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, yes, I believe she did. It happened a long time ago, in fact +when I first made the Lextons’ acquaintance.” +</p> + +<p> +Now this observation gave the direct lie to Ivy Lexton’s statement, +which Orpington honestly believed had been extracted from her against +her will. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose that you can suggest no reason why this man, Jervis Lexton, +should have wished to take his own life?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, none at all. He had just obtained an excellent job.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can throw no light either, I presume, as to how the arsenic which +undoubtedly caused his death can have been administered to him?” +</p> + +<p> +“Not only can I throw no light on it, but I find it almost impossible +to believe what my reason tells me is true—your assertion that his +death was directly due to the administration of arsenic.” +</p> + +<p> +The speaker’s voice was strong, assured. At last he was on firm +ground. +</p> + +<p> +“I take it there is a surgery attached to this house, and that you +make up your own medicines?” +</p> + +<p> +The inspector asked that vital question in a very quiet tone, but +Gretorex realised its purport as he answered, “I do—for the most +part.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to see the surgery.” +</p> + +<p> +“By all means.” +</p> + +<p> +Roger Gretorex got up. Then he placed his back against the door. +</p> + +<p> +Instantly Inspector Orpington, though he was a brave man, and had been +in more than one very tight corner, felt a cold tremor run through +him. Was this fine-looking young chap going to whip out a revolver and +kill, not only himself, but also the man whose unpleasant duty it had +been to show him that the game he had been so mad as to play was up? +</p> + +<p> +But he need not have been afraid. +</p> + +<p> +“Look here! Before I take you into my surgery, where you will find a +jar of arsenic as likely as not on an open shelf—for I am a careless +chap, and no one has access to the place but myself and my old +charwoman—I want to say something to you. I don’t suppose you will +believe me, but I wish to tell you, here and now, that I have no more +idea of how poor Lexton got at the arsenic which caused his death—if +it did cause it—than you have, and that the one thing of which I am +quite sure is that it did not come out of my surgery.” +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch11"> +Chapter Eleven +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Instead of</span> doing what he ought to have done—that is, to have sought +at once the best legal aid in his power—Roger Gretorex made up his +mind to go back to Sussex, if only for a few hours. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy’s words of agonised fear now found an echo in his own heart. His +mother must hear the very few and simple facts concerning Jervis +Lexton’s death from himself. +</p> + +<p> +On his way to the station he saw two newspaper placards, and he felt +as if it was at him that they shouted the ominous words: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="center"> +KENSINGTON<br> +POISONING<br> +MYSTERY. +</p> + +<p class="center mt1"> +WELL-KNOWN<br> +CLUBMAN<br> +POISONED. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +He bought an evening paper in the station, and then, when he unfolded +it, he felt a sharp stab of anger and disgust. In the centre of the +front page was a charming portrait of Ivy—Ivy looking her sweetest +and most seductive self. Above and below the photograph was printed a +series of paragraphs dealing with the joyous life the young couple had +led in the care-free existence which centres round the idler members +of the fashionable night-clubs. It was also stated that, on the very +night of Mr. Lexton’s unexpected death, Mrs. Lexton was supping at the +Savoy with “a smart theatre-party.” +</p> + +<p> +In the grateful darkness of a late November afternoon, Roger Gretorex +walked the two miles which separated the little station from +Anchorford, the village which he still felt part of the very warp and +woof of his life, though he owned practically no land there. All that +his father had been able to keep was the manor house, and the little +portion of the park which had surrounded the dwelling-house of the +owners of Anchorford from the days of Domesday Book. +</p> + +<p> +Now and again Gretorex, as he hurried through the narrow lanes, would +tell himself that the inexplicable mystery attaching to Jervis +Lexton’s death by poison was bound to be cleared up, and probably in +some quite simple way—a way that he himself was now too excited and +too anxious to think out for himself. +</p> + +<p> +Then there would come a sudden sensation of doubt, of despondency. +Like Ivy, but with far more cause, Roger Gretorex began to feel as if +a net were closing round him. +</p> + +<p> +At last he turned into the long avenue which led to Anchorford House, +and his heart leapt when he saw the long Elizabethan front, now bright +with twinkling lights. +</p> + +<p> +He rang the front door bell, and then he schooled himself to wait +patiently for old Bolton, who, once his father’s head groom, now acted +as general factotum and odd-job man. +</p> + +<p> +But when, all at once, the door opened, it was his mother, tall, +upright, grey-haired, who stood there, her face full of eager welcome. +</p> + +<p> +“I knew it was you, my dearest! I don’t believe in presentiments, but +I have been thinking of you all to-day, even more than usual.” +</p> + +<p> +His face gave no answering smile. He looked very grave, and yet how +young he seemed to her, standing there; how strong, how finely drawn +and carved, was his now serious face! +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you’d wired, Roger. Enid was coming in to late supper; but +I’ll put her off——” +</p> + +<p> +“You needn’t do that, mother. It’s true I’ve come down to tell you of +something rather unpleasant that’s just happened to me. But the +telling of it won’t take long. Please don’t put off Enid. In fact I +shall be glad to see her, and I may have to go back to town by the +last train.” +</p> + +<p> +He followed her across the wide hall which formed the centre of the +old house, and so into a lobby which led to the charming sitting-room +which had always been associated in his mind with his mother. They +both sat down there. But he waited a moment before he began his story +and then in the telling of it he chose his words with painful care. +</p> + +<p> +“A very odd thing has happened, mother, and I felt I should like to +tell you about it at once.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is it that has happened, Roger?” +</p> + +<p> +As he said nothing, she went on quietly, in a matter-of-fact tone: +“Whatever it is, I know quite well that you have not been to blame in +any way.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, no, I don’t think I have been to blame. And yet, well, mother, +I’ve not been——” and then he stopped dead. +</p> + +<p> +For the first time in his life he felt afraid. The extraordinary story +he had come to tell suddenly took on gigantic proportions. Until +to-day, though he had felt discomfort, and something akin to shame, +sometimes, when with Jervis Lexton, Roger Gretorex and Fear had never +met. +</p> + +<p> +“You remember,” he said at last, “my friend Ivy Lexton? She came down +here for a week-end last winter.” +</p> + +<p> +“I remember Mrs. Lexton very well,” answered Mrs. Gretorex in a tone +of studious detachment. +</p> + +<p> +As her son had uttered the name of the woman he called his friend, a +feeling of fear coupled with a sensation of painful jealousy filled +the mother’s heart. Remember the beautiful woman she had instantly +known, without his telling her so, that Roger loved? There had +scarcely been a day in the last few months when she had not +remembered, with a sensation of discomfort, lovely Ivy Lexton. +</p> + +<p> +“Jervis Lexton, Ivy’s husband, fell ill about three weeks ago——” +</p> + +<p> +And then again Gretorex felt as if he could not go on. +</p> + +<p> +“What has happened is put as clearly, here, as anything I can tell +you!” he exclaimed at last, and he handed her the evening paper +containing Ivy’s photograph. +</p> + +<p> +She took the paper from his hand, and she was in such haste to see +what it was that her son did not dare to tell her himself, that she +did not wait to put on her spectacles. +</p> + +<p> +Holding the sheet right under her reading lamp, she read the ominous +paragraphs headed “A Kensington Poisoning Mystery” right through. +</p> + +<p> +“Well,” she said at last, “and in what way, Roger, does this concern +you? Were you acting as Mr. Lexton’s medical attendant?” +</p> + +<p> +He answered at once, “I’m glad to say I was not. In fact I only saw +the poor chap twice during the whole course of his illness. He was +being looked after by a very good doctor, a man called Berwick.” +</p> + +<p> +She said again, “Then in what way does this horrible story concern +you, my dear?” +</p> + +<p> +There followed a long pause, and all at once a certain suspicion +rushed into Mrs. Gretorex’s mind. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it possible,” she said at last, in a very low voice, “that your +friend Mrs. Lexton is suspected of having poisoned her husband?” +</p> + +<p> +Roger Gretorex leapt to his feet. +</p> + +<p> +“Good God—no, mother! Whatever made you think of such a thing?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. Forgive me, Roger.” +</p> + +<p> +For the first time in her life she felt that her son was looking at +her with something like—oh, no, not hatred, but anger, furious anger, +in his blazing eyes. +</p> + +<p> +He repeated the cruel question: “Whatever made such a monstrous idea +come into your mind?” +</p> + +<p> +She faltered, “It was foolish of me.” +</p> + +<p> +“More than foolish—and very unlike you, mother,” he said harshly. +</p> + +<p> +Then he moved his chair closer to hers, and stretching out his hand, +he took hers. +</p> + +<p> +“Ivy was the best of wives to Jervis Lexton,” he said in a low voice. +“Lexton ran through a large fortune, and then, instead of trying to +get a job, simply idled about, and lived on his friends. He was a +complete wastrel.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then isn’t what the paper says true?” she asked in bewilderment. “I +mean about his having joined the firm of Miles Rushworth? I thought +the Rushworths were shipping millionaires?” +</p> + +<p> +“So they are. And it’s quite true that Lexton had just got a job in +the Rushworths’ London office. He was well connected, and had a lot of +good-natured friends who were always trying to get him something to +do. However——” and then he quoted the familiar Latin tag concerning +ill words of the dead. +</p> + +<p> +She gazed across at him. His dark face, now convulsed with feeling, +was partly illumined by the lamp which stood on a low table between +them. +</p> + +<p> +“Is it conceivable, my son——” +</p> + +<p> +Then she, like him, stopped short, afraid to utter the words she was +going to say. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, mother?” +</p> + +<p> +His voice had suddenly become listless. He had dropped her hand, and +was lying back in his chair. He was feeling spent, worn out. +</p> + +<p> +“Have you any reason to suppose, my boy, that you are in danger of +being accused of having poisoned Jervis Lexton?” +</p> + +<p> +He straightened himself, got up, and then gazed down into her pale but +still calm face, and she saw that he looked, if surprised, yet +unutterably relieved. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, mother! That is what I came down to tell you. But what made you +hit on the truth?” +</p> + +<p> +Should she tell him the reason why that frightful thought had come +into her mind? After a moment of indecision, she decided that she +ought to do so. +</p> + +<p> +“Can’t you guess why that fearful suspicion came into my mind, Roger?” +</p> + +<p> +His eyes fell before her sad, steady, questioning gaze. +</p> + +<p> +She went on slowly, “I said a word to you the evening of the day you +brought Mrs. Lexton down here. I suppose you didn’t take my advice?” +</p> + +<p> +“There are certain things about which a man must judge for himself, +mother. And with regard to my friendship for Mrs. Lexton I judged for +myself.” +</p> + +<p> +He sat down again and covered his eyes with his right hand. The words +he had just uttered had brought Ivy vividly before him. +</p> + +<p> +“Now tell me everything, Roger.” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s very little to tell,” said Gretorex, raising his head. “I +feel sure, quite sure, mother, that there’s some perfectly natural +explanation of what now seems so mysterious.” +</p> + +<p> +“If, as I hope, you have come down to consult with me as to what is +the best thing to do, then I trust that you will tell me the whole +truth. After all, I am your mother, my darling.” +</p> + +<p> +Her voice rose in entreaty. +</p> + +<p> +“Whom should you trust, if you do not trust me?” +</p> + +<p> +He felt very much moved, and, to her surprise, he came and knelt down +by her. +</p> + +<p> +She put her arms round him. “Now tell me everything,” she whispered. +</p> + +<p> +And he did tell her almost everything. But he did not tell her, and he +never told anyone, of his telephone talk with Ivy Lexton. +</p> + +<p> +His mother was quick to see the flaw in his apparently frank account +of all that had happened that morning. +</p> + +<p> +“How did you first hear of Mr. Lexton’s death?” she asked. “You were +there, I note from the date given in this paper, on the afternoon of +the day he died. You must in fact have gone straight to the station, +from your unfortunate call on the poor man.” +</p> + +<p> +“I did, mother.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then how, and when, did you hear of his death, Roger?” +</p> + +<p> +He got up and went across to the chair where he had been sitting. +</p> + +<p> +“I found a note from Ivy when I arrived at Ferry Place this morning. +She knew I was away, and she sent me the note to await me on my +return. It was written, evidently, some days ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you have kept her note.” +</p> + +<p> +He shook his head. “No, mother, I didn’t keep it. There was really +nothing in it—simply the bare statement that Jervis Lexton was dead. +She had had an awful shock, and she said she didn’t want to see +anyone.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then you’ve not seen Mrs. Lexton since her husband’s death?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, I have not seen her.” +</p> + +<p> +There trembled on the poor mother’s lips a further question—“Or had +any further communication with her?” But she feared he might be +tempted to tell her a lie, so she refrained from asking that, to her, +important question. +</p> + +<p> +Instead she said, “Though you have not put it into words, you feel +sure that the man from Scotland Yard suspects you poisoned Jervis +Lexton so that his wife would be free to marry you?” +</p> + +<p> +“That is certainly what the inspector had in his mind, when he +questioned me as to my acquaintance with her.” +</p> + +<p> +“Forgive me for asking you the question, Roger. I suppose you would +marry Mrs. Lexton, if you had the chance?” +</p> + +<p> +He said at once, “I’d give my soul to marry her, mother. I love +her—love her more, I think, than man ever loved woman.” +</p> + +<p> +She gave him a searching look. “Does she love you?” +</p> + +<p> +He hesitated, painfully. “I’ve seen very little of her lately. I know +she felt we were not doing right in seeing as much as we were seeing +of each other.” +</p> + +<p> +And then he sighed, a long, long sigh. +</p> + +<p> +“Try to love her, mother. She is free now, and she is all my life. +Please, please try to love her for my sake.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will, my darling boy.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gretorex was ashamed of the hatred—she acknowledged to herself +that it had been hatred—of Ivy Lexton which had filled her heart. She +now told herself that this woman whom her boy adored must have some +good in her. +</p> + +<p> +There came the sound of the front door opening. +</p> + +<p> +“Here, I think, is Enid Dent,” exclaimed Mrs. Gretorex. +</p> + +<p> +Roger jumped up from his chair, and went forward to meet the girl who, +as he knew deep in his heart, loved him. +</p> + +<p> +Was it because he had known that his mother eagerly desired him to +marry Enid, or was it simply because he knew her too well? Be that as +it may, it had only taken three meetings with Ivy Lexton, the wife of +another man, to blot Enid out from his heart. +</p> + +<p> +To-day, the most terrible day of his life, the sight of her honest, +thoughtful face brought comfort. For one thing, it was such an +infinite relief to know that in Enid Dent his mother would have an +entirely trustworthy, devoted support and stay, during days which he +feared must be anxious and painful days, terrible days to remember, +though he had no doubt at all as to the ultimate result of any inquiry +into the facts surrounding Lexton’s death. +</p> + +<p> +As for Enid Dent, she had loved Roger Gretorex with a silent, +unswerving devotion since she had first known what love meant. Though +he himself was scarcely aware of it, his whole manner had changed +during the last few months, and while this caused her sharp anguish, +which she had successfully hidden from those about her, it had never +occurred to her, strangely enough, that that alteration had come about +because of another woman. +</p> + +<p> +Now, gazing from the mother to the son, she understood at once that +they were both in deep trouble. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid I’ve come too soon,” she said. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m glad you came early, my dear. We’re going to have supper in a few +minutes, for Roger has to go back to town to-night.” +</p> + +<p> +Old Bolton hobbled into the room. +</p> + +<p> +“Rosie Holt says you promised to see her some time to-day, ma’am. +She’s in the kitchen. Shall I show her into the drawing-room?” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gretorex made a great effort over herself. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, please do, Bolton,” she said quietly, “and I’ll come and see +her.” +</p> + +<p> +Roger turned to Enid: +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder if you’d take a short turn before supper? I don’t get nearly +enough exercise in London.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I will.” +</p> + +<p> +They went into the hall, and she hurried on her hat and coat. It was +fully a year since she had last taken even a short walk with Roger +Gretorex. +</p> + +<p> +Once they were in the open air, in the kindly darkness, he drew her +arm through his. +</p> + +<p> +“Enid, I want to tell you something.” +</p> + +<p> +He spoke almost in a whisper—as if he were afraid he might be +overheard. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Roger?” and she slightly pressed his arm. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m in trouble,” he said sombrely; “in great trouble, my dear. What +makes it worse is the knowledge of how unhappy it is going to make my +mother.” +</p> + +<p> +And then at once, for though she was young she was no fool—your +country-bred girl often knows a great deal more of real life than your +town-bred girl—Enid Dent said to herself that Roger’s trouble was +connected with a woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell me all about it,” she said quietly, and she stiffened herself to +bear a blow. +</p> + +<p> +“I will tell you all about it. But I’m afraid you will be very much +shocked.” +</p> + +<p> +To that she made no answer. No doubt some London girl was bringing a +breach of promise action against Roger. That was the sort of trouble +Enid Dent visualised. +</p> + +<p> +“Things are never so bad when one talks them over,” she said, and +tried to smile in the dark night. “Nothing could make me feel any +different to you, Roger. Why, you’re my oldest friend!” +</p> + +<p> +They were walking away from the house, down a broad path where they +had often played when he was a boy of twelve and she a little girl of +five. +</p> + +<p> +“No talking can make any difference to my trouble,” and there came a +harsh note in his voice. +</p> + +<p> +They walked along in silence, and then he gently shook himself free of +her arm. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve reason to believe that in the next few days——” +</p> + +<p> +He stopped short. The ignominy, the horror of what might be going to +happen to him, overwhelmed him. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Roger? What is it that you think is going to happen? Tell me.” +</p> + +<p> +He would have been surprised, indeed, if she had suddenly uttered +aloud the words that she was saying in her heart, “Don’t you see the +agony I am in? It’s cruel, cruel to keep me in suspense!” +</p> + +<p> +“I think it possible, perhaps I ought to say likely, that I may be +arrested on a charge of murder, within the next few days.” He uttered +the dread words quietly enough. “And that though I assure you, Enid, +that I am absolutely innocent——” +</p> + +<p> +She cut across his words, “You needn’t have troubled to tell me that, +Roger.” +</p> + +<p> +“Though I’m absolutely innocent,” he repeated, “yet I’m beginning to +realise that appearances are very much against me. I’ve felt all this +afternoon as if I were living through a frightful nightmare, and I’m +always expecting to wake up and find it was only a dream, after all.” +</p> + +<p> +Enid knew that this man she loved had a violent temper. She supposed +that he had had the kind of quarrel with another man in which one of +the two strikes out. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve been wondering, during the last few minutes, whether you would +be able to come up to London with my mother? It would be such a +comfort to know you were with her, if this thing really happens.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I will!” she exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +He went on: “You’ve always been like a daughter to her, haven’t you? +And I know that, next to me, she loves you best in the world.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think she does,” she whispered in a strangled voice, for she was +now near to tears. “But a long way after you, Roger.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, yes,” he answered, in a matter-of-fact tone; “no doubt a long +way after me. But still she loves you dearly, and she trusts you +utterly, as I do.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll stay with her all through the trouble—if the trouble comes. I +promise you that, Roger.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s not that I have any doubt as to the outcome. The man whose death +is being, I feel sure, put down to my account, almost certainly +committed suicide. There’s no other solution possible.” +</p> + +<p> +“Who was the man?” she asked diffidently. +</p> + +<p> +“An acquaintance rather than a friend of mine, called Jervis Lexton. +He fell ill—that I have to admit is a mysterious point about the +whole business—about a fortnight ago. He died, rather suddenly, last +week, on the 16th. A post-mortem revealed the cause of death to have +been a virulent poison—arsenic. I saw him alone a few hours before he +died, and I have a jar of arsenic in my surgery. There you have the +story in a nutshell.” +</p> + +<p> +He spoke in an awkward, constrained tone. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you really going back to-night?” she asked. “Can’t you stay till +to-morrow morning? It would be such a comfort to Mrs. Gretorex.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid I must go back. You see, I’ve a lot of patients, and it +isn’t fair to put all that work on another doctor.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder if you and my mother can come to town to-morrow? She’d be +wretched, staying on here in suspense, waiting for news of what, after +all, may never happen.” +</p> + +<p> +They were turning now towards the house, and as they emerged from +under the trees they both noticed that the front door was open. +Through it a shaft of bright light fell on the stone-paved courtyard, +and Gretorex suddenly became aware that, in the shadow, a motor with +hooded lights was drawn up. +</p> + +<p> +“Who can that be at this time of the evening?” he said, surprised. +</p> + +<p> +They walked swiftly across the wide lawn, and so on to the stone +pavement. Then, as they passed through the open door, they heard Mrs. +Gretorex’s voice and the unfamiliar voice of a man in the great hall. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I hear my son coming in. In any case, I assure you he won’t +be long.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gretorex uttered the words in a matter-of-fact yet anxious tone, +as if she feared the person she spoke to might not believe her. +</p> + +<p> +Roger followed Enid through the lobby which separated the front door +from the hall, and then he saw his mother standing with a tall, slight +man whom Roger knew to be the Inspector of Police at Lynchester, the +county town hard by. They had met two months back in connection with a +local poaching affray. +</p> + +<p> +“May I speak with you for a few moments in private, Dr. Gretorex?” +</p> + +<p> +A look of great relief had come over the inspector’s face; he was +aware in what high regard Mrs. Gretorex was held throughout the +neighbourhood. He had also noticed the young lady who had just come +in, and knew her for the only daughter of a local magistrate. So he +was anxious to get through the unpleasant business which had brought +him to-night to Anchorford Hall, as quietly and quickly as possible. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m quite at your service. We’ll go into the smoking-room, but——” +</p> + +<p> +Gretorex turned right round and began rapidly walking towards the +front door. +</p> + +<p> +As a matter of fact, the door had been left open, and he wished to +close it. +</p> + +<p> +But the inspector believed his lawful prey intended to escape into the +darkness, and a hundred suspicious, angry thoughts flashed through his +mind. +</p> + +<p> +What a thing it would be to have to search the downs and woods all +this coming night! ’Twould be like looking for a needle in a stack of +hay. +</p> + +<p> +He strode past Mrs. Gretorex, and seized Roger with no gentle hand by +the collar. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m surprised, sir, at your trying to get away. I didn’t expect such +a thing from you!” +</p> + +<p> +Gretorex wrenched himself free. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know what you mean!” he exclaimed angrily. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, yes, you do. You were making for that door.” +</p> + +<p> +“I was making for the door to shut it.” +</p> + +<p> +He was shaking with anger, and the two glared at each other for a +moment in silence. +</p> + +<p> +Then the inspector took a step forward, and laid his hand on the young +man’s arm. +</p> + +<p> +“I arrest you,” he said, in a voice that was not quite steady, “on the +charge of having murdered Jervis Lexton on the 16th of this month.” +</p> + +<p> +Roger Gretorex stood still. Then he asked: +</p> + +<p> +“May I speak to my mother in private for a moment?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” said the inspector quickly. “I cannot allow you to do that, Dr. +Gretorex. I’m sorry, but from now on you are my prisoner.” +</p> + +<p> +“May I make a statement to you now? I suppose there is no objection to +my telling you that I’m absolutely innocent?” +</p> + +<p> +The older man hesitated. +</p> + +<p> +“I should advise you,” he said, not unkindly, “to make no statement. +You are, of course, aware that anything you say may be used against +you in evidence. I need hardly tell you that every facility will be +given you to procure legal advice.” +</p> + +<p> +“And what is going to happen to me now?” +</p> + +<p> +“You will go with me to Lynchester, and you will be kept there in a +police cell till you are conveyed to London to-morrow. Once there, as +you probably are aware, Dr. Gretorex, you will be taken to the police +station of the district where the alleged murder was committed, and in +due course you will be charged.” +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile the inspector was watching his prisoner closely. He was +remembering that during the brief telephone conversation with Scotland +Yard, which had led to his presence here, he had been reminded how +near Anchorford was to the sea, and he had been warned that he might +find his bird flown. +</p> + +<p> +What a fool he would look if, after having actually arrested him, this +man effected even a temporary escape! +</p> + +<p> +“May I shake hands with my mother and—and with my friends?” +</p> + +<p> +“I will take it on myself to allow you to do that, Dr. Gretorex,” was +the cold reply. “Then, I’m afraid, we must be getting on.” +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t you allow my son to have some supper before you take him away?” +asked Mrs. Gretorex. For the first time her voice was not quite +steady. “Won’t you both have supper here? It’s quite ready.” +</p> + +<p> +“No, ma’am, I’m afraid I can’t do that. But I promise you your son +shall have something to eat, as good as I can get him at this time of +night, when we reach Lynchester.” +</p> + +<p> +The inspector’s voice had become kindly, even respectful, to his +prisoner’s mother. He felt very sorry for her. +</p> + +<p> +But for Roger Gretorex he was not at all sorry. He had been given to +understand, quite unofficially of course, that there was a married +woman in the case, and that she provided a strong enough motive to +hang a dozen times over the fine young fellow now standing by his +side. +</p> + +<p> +“What I would advise you to do, ma’am—advising you as a private +person, I mean—would be to go up to London to-morrow morning, and get +in touch with a good solicitor. Dr. Gretorex will be allowed to see +his lawyer alone as much as he can reasonably require. At least that +is the usual procedure.” +</p> + +<p> +Roger Gretorex held out his hand. Something seemed to warn him that it +would be wiser for him to remain standing exactly where he was +standing now. He felt that the inspector was watching him intently. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gretorex took a step forward. She shook hands quietly, +unemotionally, with her son. +</p> + +<p> +And then something very unexpected happened—unexpected, that is, by +every one of the four people there. +</p> + +<p> +Enid Dent approached Roger a little timidly. Had he not, a few moments +ago, called her his friend? When she was close to him, she looked up +into his face, for he was far taller than she. And then, all at once, +he bent forward and, putting his arms round her, he kissed her +good-bye. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch12"> +Chapter Twelve +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">As Ivy stepped</span> down out of the telephone box, after her conversation +with Roger Gretorex, she felt, though partially relieved, yet at the +same time agitated and still terribly frightened. She was, indeed, so +much affected that she did not even notice the admiring glance thrown +at her by a man in the next box. +</p> + +<p> +Her interview that morning with Inspector Orpington and his +subordinate—for he had brought with him a sergeant—had made her feel +sick with fear. True that, after she had answered with apparent +frankness the first probing questions put to her, she had felt, as she +almost always did feel with any man with whom life brought her into +temporary contact, that the inspector was beginning to like her and to +sympathise with her. But, even so, she had experienced this morning +what she had never experienced before—not only a sensation of abject +fear, but also as if she were becoming entangled in a horrible, +close-meshed net. +</p> + +<p> +During a brief visit to Paris, in the old days when she and Jervis +still had plenty of money to burn, she had gone with a gay party to +the Grand Guignol. There she had seen acted a terrifying little play +which showed the walls of a room closing in on a man. That was exactly +how she had felt during the long examination and cross-examination she +had endured this morning. +</p> + +<p> +One of the things that had made her feel so dreadfully frightened was +that the two men from Scotland Yard had not begun their investigations +by seeing her, the widow of the dead man. They had first interviewed +Nurse Bradfield, and then the cook. +</p> + +<p> +While this had been going on, Ivy had waited in the drawing-room, sick +with terror and suspense, wondering what the two women were saying +about her. At long last, the strangers had come into the drawing-room, +looking very grave indeed. +</p> + +<p> +And now, as she walked back to Duke of Kent Mansion, choosing +instinctively a roundabout way, Ivy kept living over again that +strange, even she had realised momentous, interview. +</p> + +<p> +The inspector had gone straight to the point. When had she, Mrs. +Jervis Lexton herself, last been in the company of her husband before +his unexpected death? After an imperceptible pause, during which she +was wondering fearfully if Nurse Bradfield had remembered all that had +happened on that sinister last afternoon, she had answered the +question truthfully. She said that she had been with Jervis after +luncheon, while the nurse had gone out for a short time. +</p> + +<p> +When Ivy had made this admission, there had come a look of alert +questioning on the inspector’s face, for Nurse Bradfield had not +mentioned that fact, which indeed she had forgotten. And then it was, +on seeing the sudden change of countenance on the part of her +inquisitor, that Mrs. Jervis Lexton had gently volunteered the +statement that, after she herself had gone out, the sick man had had +another visitor that afternoon, a friend of her own and her husband’s, +a young man named Roger Gretorex, who was a doctor. +</p> + +<p> +She had allowed, and consciously allowed, herself to look embarrassed, +as she made what sounded like an admission. As she had intended should +be the case, the inspector had at once run after that hare. But she +had not bargained for what had followed immediately—insistent +questioning as to her own and her husband’s relations with the man who +had been, with the exception of the cook and the nurse, the last +person to see Jervis Lexton alive. +</p> + +<p> +How long had they known Dr. Gretorex? Did they see much of him? What +had been her own relations with him? When, for instance, had she +herself last seen him before the death of Jervis Lexton? +</p> + +<p> +At last, when she was beginning to feel as if the meshes of the net +were becoming smaller and smaller, he had “got out of her,” so Ivy put +it to herself, that Roger Gretorex cared for her far more than a +bachelor ought to care for the wife of a friend. +</p> + +<p> +Nevertheless, everything would now have been “quite all right” from +Ivy’s point of view if it had stopped there. But to her dismay and +surprise, Inspector Orpington suddenly began on quite another tack. +</p> + +<p> +In spite of the fact, which he assured her he accepted as true, that +she had rejected with indignation Dr. Gretorex’s advances, he +suggested that it was odd that her own and her husband’s friendship +with the young man had gone on. He “presumed” that Lexton had known +nothing of Gretorex’s unwelcome attentions to Mrs. Lexton? Ivy had +reluctantly admitted that that was so. And, as he pressed her, with +one quick, probing question after another, she saw, with a clear, +affrighted, inward vision, that what she had intended should be a +molehill was growing into a mountain. +</p> + +<p> +At last had come the most alarming query of all—had she ever been to +see Dr. Gretorex at 6 Ferry Place? +</p> + +<p> +All the questions put to her she had answered with apparent ease and +frankness. And, as to the last, she explained that she had gone to Dr. +Gretorex’s house with a great friend of hers, a lady who had then been +a widow, a Mrs. Arundell, but who had married again, and was now in +India. They had been accompanied by a young man who was a friend of +Mrs. Arundell. +</p> + +<p> +As to going out with Roger Gretorex, she had done so only +occasionally, and never since he had confessed he loved her. No, never +since her husband’s illness. +</p> + +<p> +How deeply thankful was Ivy Lexton that she had really seen so little +of Roger Gretorex of late! +</p> + +<p> +And then, all at once, the inspector had said something which had +made, as she put it to herself, her heart stand still. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose there is a surgery attached to the house in Ferry Place?” +he had remarked, speaking his thought aloud. And it had been those +words, as to the probable existence of a surgery, that had suddenly +made up her mind for her as to the line she would take concerning +Roger Gretorex and their relations to one another. +</p> + +<p> +Did Ivy Lexton then realise the full import of what she had done? Most +certainly not. Subconsciously she was aware that her avowals, her +timorous admissions as to his passion for her lovely self, could do +Gretorex no good. But her only object had been to shift, at any cost, +suspicion from herself. +</p> + +<p> +There had been an interval, perhaps as long as a quarter of an hour, +when she had been alone with Inspector Orpington. He had sent away his +sergeant into the dining-room next door. At the time she had not known +why. +</p> + +<p> +Then he had spoken to her kindly, yet in a very solemn, searching +tone, adjuring her to be frank, and to tell him of any knowledge, or +even suspicion, she might harbour in her mind. But though every word +he said added to her secret terror, that terror which was at once +tangible and vague, for she knew nothing of the law, she had been +wary, and very clever, in her answers. +</p> + +<p> +Then the other man had come back, and to her surprise and horror she +found she was expected to sign a statement. +</p> + +<p> +“You had better read it over,” the inspector had said quietly. +</p> + +<p> +And Ivy had read it over, hardly realising what it was she was +reading, but having the wit to know that this man from Scotland Yard +had played fair by her. +</p> + +<p> +Though in a sense Ivy had said nothing of any importance, apart from +that fatal admission of Roger Gretorex’s love for her, Orpington had +left the flat well satisfied. He believed he now had the threads of +what had seemed at first such a mystery, all clutched up into his +hands. Incidentally, at the end of that long searching inquisition he +had reconstituted every moment of the last day of the dead man’s life. +</p> + +<p> +But as he had got up to leave, he had suddenly returned to the fact +that Mrs. Lexton had been with her husband alone on that last +afternoon of his life. That the inspector evidently attached +importance to this fact brought back all Ivy’s terrors. But her +remarkable powers of dissimulation stood her in good stead, and she +again gave a pathetic little account of those few last minutes with +her husband. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t quite know how long it was. Time went by quickly, for I +thought he was better; and we had a little chat, making up our minds +where we would go when he was well enough to have a change.” +</p> + +<p> +“Did he have anything to drink—a dose of medicine while you were with +him, Mrs. Lexton?” +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no! Nurse was not out long enough for that.” +</p> + +<p> +And then it was that Orpington made his one mistake. Not that it made +any difference at all in the long run. But, unconsciously, he had been +affected by Ivy’s soft, feminine charm, as well as by her fragile +loveliness. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course we shall let you know the result of our investigations as +soon as I have concluded my inquiries. As for Dr. Gretorex, I shall go +and see him as soon as I have had something to eat.” +</p> + +<p> +See Roger? Roger, who was so truthful, so incapable of telling even a +white lie? +</p> + +<p> +The knowledge that Gretorex was going to be subjected to a searching +examination made her turn faint with fear. Had she been guilty of +folly, and worse than folly, in admitting, nay, in volunteering the +information, that Roger loved her? Within herself she debated that +question. If Orpington had suspected the truth, then, of course, she +had been wise. But had he—had he? +</p> + +<p> +In any case, the warning of Gretorex had seemed the only thing to do, +and on the whole she now felt strengthened, comforted, by his +unquestioning faith. +</p> + +<p> +As at last she went up in the lift of the Duke of Kent Mansion, she +heard quick, light steps running up the stairs, and she shivered with +apprehension. But it was only a telegraph boy, and as they arrived +together at the door of the flat, she asked quickly, “Is the name +Lexton?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, ma’am, ‘Mrs. Lexton,’ ” and he handed her the telegram. +</p> + +<p> +In her bedroom she tore open the buff envelope and looked first at the +signature: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +Just read with great concern result post-mortem. Have cabled John Oram +solicitor instructing him to afford you all help financial and other +on my behalf. Sister dangerously ill or would return at once myself. +Please keep me acquainted with any developments. Deepest sympathy. +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +<span class="sc">Miles Rushworth</span>. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +She burst into hysterical tears of relief. Nothing, surely, could +happen to her now that Rushworth had come to her help? +</p> + +<p> +Always Ivy Lexton had been sheltered, guarded, lifted over the rough +places of life by men—men who had been conquered, pressed into her +service, by that alluring quality which means so much more than +beauty. But not one of the many men to whom she had cause to be +grateful in her life had been in the powerful position of Miles +Rushworth, as regarded either character or wealth. +</p> + +<p> +She lay down on the comfortable couch which stood at right angles to +her pretty bed. It was the first time she had ever done so, for she +was a strong young woman, in spite of the air of delicacy which added +so much to her charm in the eyes of many people, women as well as men. +But she felt tired—dreadfully, consciously tired, to-day. +</p> + +<p> +She closed her eyes and, deliberately, she lived over again +Rushworth’s last long, passionate embrace on the yacht. It was as if +she heard spoken aloud his ardent, broken-hearted words, “<i>If only you +were free!</i>” +</p> + +<p> +Well? She was free now, even at what she was beginning to realise +might be a fearful cost. Even so, it could only be a question of +months, perhaps of weeks, before she became Rushworth’s wife. +</p> + +<p> +She opened her eyes and smiled for the first time that day, a radiant, +secretly confident smile. +</p> + +<p> +Leaping off the couch she read through Rushworth’s long telegram +again. +</p> + +<p> +John Oram? What a curious name. Being a solicitor, he must be on the +telephone. She would ring him up immediately after she had had lunch, +and ask him to come and see her. +</p> + +<p> +Going into the hall, she called out, in almost a joyous voice, “Nurse? +Here I am! I’m so sorry to have kept you waiting.” +</p> + +<p> +Nurse Bradfield came slowly down the corridor. The events of the last +few days had aged her, and Ivy was struck by her sad, bewildered +expression. She secretly wondered why Nurse Bradfield looked so old +and unlike herself? Nurse Bradfield, lucky woman, had nothing to be +afraid of. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy Lexton never knew all she owed to the woman who had tended Jervis +Lexton through his last illness. When Inspector Orpington had done +with the nurse, he had formed, albeit unconsciously, a very definite +view of the dead man’s widow. Thus, even before he had seen Ivy, he +had accepted Nurse Bradfield’s view of young Mrs. Lexton’s nature and +way of life. That is, he regarded her as selfish, feather-headed, and +extravagant; but good-natured, easy-going, and quite incapable of +planning and of executing such a crime as that which had brought about +her husband’s death. +</p> + +<p> +That Jervis Lexton had died as the result of a foul crime on the part +of some man or woman who had a strong motive for wishing him to be +obliterated had appeared plain to the man in charge of the case, even +before he had interviewed any of the people concerned with it. +</p> + +<p> +But if Ivy, unknowingly, had reason to be grateful to Nurse Bradfield, +Nurse Bradfield just now had cause to be very grateful to Ivy. It +meant a great deal to her that she could stay on here, in this +luxurious flat, living in quietude and comfort, instead of going back +to the hostel which was her only “home” between her cases. +</p> + +<p> +She had already learnt, and great was her dismay thereat, that she +would become an important witness for the Crown, should the mystery be +so far cleared up as to bring about a trial for murder. Small wonder +that to-day she felt too upset and too disturbed to eat, and she +watched, with surprise, Ivy’s evident enjoyment of the good luncheon +put before them. +</p> + +<p> +The nurse was the more secretly astonished at the newly made widow’s +look of cheerfulness because she was well aware that “little Mrs. +Lexton” was most uncomfortably short of money. +</p> + +<p> +All that morning, and especially during the latter half of that +morning, there had come a procession of tradespeople to the flat +requesting immediate payment of their accounts. Some of them had been +interviewed by the cook, others by Nurse Bradfield herself. As for +Ivy, she had absolutely refused to see any of them. “I have no money +at all just now,” she had observed sadly. “But of course everybody +will be paid in time.” +</p> + +<p> +Nurse Bradfield had even begun to wonder if she would ever be repaid a +certain ten pounds which she had lent Mrs. Lexton a few days before. +But she was not as much troubled by that thought as some of Ivy +Lexton’s fairly well-to-do friends might have been. She even told +herself that, after all, she was now receiving far more than ten +pounds’ worth of comfort and quiet. +</p> + +<p> +As if something of what she was thinking flashed from the nurse’s mind +to hers, Ivy said suddenly, “I shall have plenty of money soon, Nurse. +And the moment I’ve got anything I’ll give you back that money you +were kind enough to lend me.” +</p> + +<p> +There was a tone of real sincerity in her voice, and Nurse Bradfield +felt reassured. +</p> + +<p> +“I only want it back,” she said quietly, “when you can really give it +me conveniently, Mrs. Lexton. Of course ten pounds is a good deal of +money to me. But now that I know poor Mr. Lexton was not insured, I +realise that things must be very difficult for you.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s going to be quite all right,” exclaimed Ivy impulsively. +</p> + +<p> +Oh! what a difference to life Rushworth’s cable had made! She felt +almost hysterical with joy and relief. +</p> + +<p> +And then, as there came a ring at the bell, she said quickly to the +maid who was waiting at table, “Do tell whoever it is that I shall be +able to pay up everything soon—I hope even within the next few days.” +</p> + +<p> +But this time the visitor was not an anxious tradesman. He was a tall, +thin, elderly man, with a keen, shrewd face, who gave his name as “Mr. +Oram.” +</p> + +<p> +After a few moments spent by him in the hall, he was shown into the +drawing-room, there to wait for the lady concerning whom he already +felt a keen curiosity. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch13"> +Chapter Thirteen +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">John Oram</span> was an old-fashioned solicitor of very high standing. His +firm had always managed all the private business of the Rushworth +family, and he was a personal friend of the client from whom he had +received a long and explicit cable about two hours ago. The receipt of +that cable, and above all the way it had been worded, had induced Mr. +Oram to come himself to Duke of Kent Mansion, instead of sending one +of his clerks. He felt intensely curious to see this newly made widow +in whom Miles Rushworth evidently took so intimate and anxious an +interest. +</p> + +<p> +Rushworth’s cable to John Oram had been nearly three times the length +of his cable to Ivy; and the purport of it had been that the solicitor +was to help Mrs. Lexton in every way in his power. The last words of +the cable had run: “Find out from Mrs. Lexton the name of her bankers, +and place two thousand pounds to her credit.” +</p> + +<p> +After reading the cable, Mr. Oram had sent for his head clerk, an +acute, clever man named Alfred Finch, who was some twenty years +younger than himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Can you tell me anything of some people of the name of Lexton, who +live in Duke of Kent Mansion? I gather there’s some sort of legal +trouble afoot.” +</p> + +<p> +The answer had been immediate, and had filled him with both surprise +and dismay. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir, I know all there is to be known. It’s not very much, yet. A +Mr. Jervis Lexton died some days ago in one of the Duke of Kent +Mansion flats. And, as the result of a post-mortem, it has been +discovered that death was occasioned through the administration of a +large dose of arsenic.” +</p> + +<p> +The speaker waited a moment. His curiosity was considerably whetted, +for he had seen a look of astonishment, almost of horror, come over +his employer’s usually impassive face. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred Finch went on, speaking in a more serious tone: +</p> + +<p> +“This Mr. Jervis Lexton must have been a man of means, for you may +remember, sir, that he drew up the lease of a flat in Duke of Kent +Mansion for the Misses Rushworth about eighteen months ago.” +</p> + +<p> +“Aye, aye, I do remember that. I think the rent of their flat was four +hundred a year, and the two ladies had to pay a considerable premium +on going in. As you say, the Lextons must be well-to-do.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Finch allowed himself to smile. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s only one of them now, sir—the dead man’s widow. She’s said +to be very attractive, and well known in smart society.” +</p> + +<p> +“I see. That will do.” +</p> + +<p> +It was no wonder that John Oram, while waiting in the drawing-room of +the flat for Ivy to join him, gazed about him with a good deal of +interest. Then, all at once, he recognised a fine picture which he +knew to be the property of the Misses Rushworth, his clients, and +Miles Rushworth’s cousins. In a moment what had appeared a mystery was +to his mind cleared up. There must be, there was, of course, some sort +of connection between the Rushworths and the Lextons; and the rich, +precise, old-fashioned maiden ladies, who, he now remembered, were +wintering abroad, had lent their flat to these family connections. +</p> + +<p> +That would explain everything—Miles Rushworth’s urgent cable, as also +his evident anxiety that everything should be done to help and succour +Mrs. Lexton in her distress. +</p> + +<p> +Just as he came to this satisfactory explanation of what had puzzled +and disturbed him, the door of the drawing-room opened, and Ivy walked +in. +</p> + +<p> +She held out her little hand. “Mr. Oram?” she cried eagerly, “I’m so +glad to see you! I had a cable just before lunch from Mr. Rushworth, +telling me that you were going to help me. Everything is so dreadful, +so extraordinary, that I feel utterly bewildered, as well as +miserable——” and then tears strangled her voice. +</p> + +<p> +For a moment her visitor said nothing. He was amazed at her exceeding +loveliness, puzzled also, for he was very observant, by the expression +which now lit up the beautiful face before him. Though tears were +running down her cheeks, it was such a happy expression. +</p> + +<p> +“Won’t you sit down?” +</p> + +<p> +Her tone was quite subdued now; the hysterical excitement which had +been there had died out of her voice. +</p> + +<p> +He obeyed her silently, and there shot over Ivy Lexton a quick feeling +of misgiving. Mr. Oram looked so grave, so stern, and he was gazing at +her with so curiously close a scrutiny. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s very kind of you to have come so soon,” she said nervously. +</p> + +<p> +“I am anxious to help you in every way possible, Mrs. Lexton,” he +answered quietly. +</p> + +<p> +Though the old solicitor was exceedingly impressed by Ivy’s beauty, +instead of being attracted, he felt, if anything, slightly repelled, +by her appearance. +</p> + +<p> +For one thing, he was sufficiently old-fashioned to feel really +surprised, and even shocked, by her “make-up.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy had made up more than usual this morning, and before coming into +the drawing-room just now she had used her lipstick quite recklessly. +So it was that while Mr. Oram asked her certain questions, each one of +which was to the point, and allowed for but very little prevarication +on her part, he avoided looking straight at her. +</p> + +<p> +How astounding, he said to himself with dismay, that such a woman +should be a friend of Miles Rushworth! A direct question had shown him +that she had no knowledge of, or even a bowing acquaintance with, the +Misses Rushworth. +</p> + +<p> +At last he said rather coldly, “I take it you are in possession of +very little money?” +</p> + +<p> +“Very little,” she answered, almost in a whisper. +</p> + +<p> +“At the request of Mr. Miles Rushworth, I have a sum of money to place +at your disposal. As a matter of fact, it is a considerable sum—two +thousand pounds. If you will tell me who are your bankers, I——” +</p> + +<p> +And then Ivy, keeping the joy she felt out of her voice, interrupted +him: +</p> + +<p> +“I have not got a banking account, Mr. Oram. I had one many years ago, +before my husband lost all his money, but I have not had one for over +three years. And oh! it’s been so inconvenient.” +</p> + +<p> +A kinder look came into the lawyer’s grave face. +</p> + +<p> +“In that case, Mrs. Lexton, I advise you to open an account at the +local branch of the Birmingham Bank. It is close here, in Kensington +High Street. Mr. Rushworth informed me in his cable that you would +probably stay on in this flat for the next few weeks.” +</p> + +<p> +“I should like to do that,” she said in a low tone. +</p> + +<p> +“Your husband, I understand, was a great friend of Mr. Rushworth?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, my husband was working in Mr. Rushworth’s office when he fell +ill.” +</p> + +<p> +“Was he indeed?” +</p> + +<p> +That the Lextons could be what the sender of the cable had called “my +closest friends” had surprised the solicitor. He had believed himself +acquainted with all Miles Rushworth’s intimate circle. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy had come across a good many lawyers in her life, and she had +always found them bright, cheery, and pleasant. All of them, to a man, +had admired her, and made her feel that they did so. +</p> + +<p> +Very, very different was this lawyer’s attitude. She realised that he +did not approve of her, and she even suspected that he regretted his +client’s interest in her. That was quite enough for Ivy, and she began +to long intensely for Mr. Oram to go away. She had already made up her +mind that he was “horrid,” and she was sorry indeed that such a man +should be Miles Rushworth’s representative. +</p> + +<p> +“I will pay in the cheque to the Birmingham Bank to-morrow morning, +Mrs. Lexton,” said the solicitor. “I will call for you, if I may, at +eleven, for you will have to come too, in order that the manager may +register your signature.” +</p> + +<p> +At last he got up, and then he said suddenly: “Have you yet seen +anyone from the police?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I saw a gentleman from Scotland Yard this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“I trust your legal adviser was present.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have no legal adviser,” and she looked at him surprised. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry for that. I had hoped to learn that you had a solicitor, +and that he had been present. However, I don’t suppose it will make +any odds. I presume you told the gentleman from Scotland Yard +everything that it was within your power to tell him, concerning the +mysterious circumstances surrounding Mr. Lexton’s death?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I did,” she said falteringly. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed to her that he was looking at her with such a hard, cold +look on his bloodless face. She even had a queer feeling that this Mr. +Oram could see right through her, and she felt a touch of deadly +terror. +</p> + +<p> +But Ivy’s fears were quite unfounded. The solicitor’s view of Ivy +Lexton was very much what “the gentleman from Scotland Yard’s” had +been. But whereas Inspector Orpington had liked and pitied her, +Rushworth’s lawyer already regretted that, if only as a matter of +common humanity, he must now secure for her the best legal advice in +his power. +</p> + +<p> +John Oram had the faults of his qualities. His life’s work had brought +him in contact with more than one skilful adventuress. But against +such a woman, when she came across his path, the dice were already +loaded. +</p> + +<p> +Thus he had never had much trouble with the kind of girl who +infatuates a foolish “elder son,” and then, maybe, tries to extract an +enormous sum out of him by a threat of a breach of promise case. More +difficult to deal with had he found, in his long career as a family +solicitor, the sort of woman blackmailer who has letters in her +possession. But, even in regard to that type of woman, Mr. Oram, with +the law on his side, invariably came out of the duel triumphant. +</p> + +<p> +He had never had to do, even remotely, with a case of murder, and the +last thing that would have occurred to his mind was that this lovely +young fribble of a woman—for such was his old-fashioned +expression—could be a secret poisoner. +</p> + +<p> +“I think you must authorise me to instruct counsel to represent you at +the inquest which I understand is about to be held.” +</p> + +<p> +“What is counsel?” asked Ivy. +</p> + +<p> +She felt surprised and uneasy. Was this disagreeable old man going to +run up what she knew was called “a lawyer’s bill” which she would have +to pay out of Rushworth’s munificent gift? +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Oram looked at her with scarce concealed contempt. +</p> + +<p> +“A counsel,” he replied drily, “is any member of the Bar. But +naturally some are better than others, and, with your permission, I +will obtain for you the services of a gentleman who is thoroughly +experienced in cases of this kind.” +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +The next morning Mr. Oram arrived at his office early, and, after +glancing over his letters, he had just made out a cheque for two +thousand pounds to “the order of Mrs. Ivy Lexton,” when a card was +brought into his private room. But before he looked at the card he had +already fully made up his mind that he could see no one, however +important their business might be, till his return from Kensington. +</p> + +<p> +Already the solicitor and his head clerk, Alfred Finch, had gone into +the question of who should represent Mrs. Lexton at the inquest, and +at the various other proceedings which were likely to take place in +connection with Jervis Lexton’s mysterious death. Money, as the saying +is, being no object, they had selected as her counsel one known to +them to be by far the soundest man for that sort of watching brief. +</p> + +<p> +The old lawyer was sorry indeed that Miles Rushworth had brought him +in touch with what he termed to himself “this very unpleasant +business.” +</p> + +<p> +His feeling was not shared by his head clerk. Alfred Finch was already +keenly interested in the Lexton case. He was an intelligent man, keen +about his work whatever it might be, and he already had managed to +make certain pertinent inquiries. Indeed, he very much startled Mr. +Oram by a remark he made towards the end of their discussion. +</p> + +<p> +“They do say, sir, that Scotland Yard as good as know already who +poisoned Mr. Lexton. I think it quite probable that you will see the +news of an arrest on the newspaper placards on your way to Duke of +Kent Mansion.” +</p> + +<p> +“What sort of person has been, or is to be, arrested, Finch? Have you +discovered that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, sir, I haven’t yet got hold of the man’s name. But I gather +he’s a gentleman, and one who was described to me as—” he coughed +discreetly “—a beau of Mrs. Lexton. Mrs. Lexton seems to have been a +bit of a flyer, sir. She was out every night dancing at what they call +a smart night-club, or in some big hotel, during the days when her +unfortunate husband was being slowly done to death by this friend of +hers.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you heard anything serious against Mrs. Lexton’s character?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Oram was very old-fashioned. The term “night-club” signified to +him something vaguely terrible, and utterly disreputable. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, no, sir, there’s nothing against her. On the contrary, the story +goes that, though the man under suspicion was crazy about her, she +only flirted with him, so to speak. Mrs. Lexton, it seems, gave him +away, quite unknowingly, to the C.I.D. inspector who is in charge of +the case.” +</p> + +<p> +Finch smiled, “They say it’s likely to be the most important case of +the kind there’s been at the Old Bailey for many a long day. The +public are about ready for another murder mystery.” +</p> + +<p> +“Not much mystery about it, if your information is correct, Finch,” +observed Mr. Oram grimly. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s Mrs. Lexton—they say she is such a very pretty, smart little +lady—who will provide the mystery and the sensation, sir. She’ll be +the principal witness for the Crown.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Oram felt very much disturbed on hearing this piece of +information. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not regard myself as being in any sense Mrs. Lexton’s legal +representative,” he said stiffly. “With regard to this lady, I am +simply acting as Mr. Miles Rushworth’s solicitor.” +</p> + +<p> +And now, just as he was reaching out for his hat and coat, feeling +more perturbed than he would have cared to acknowledge, a client for +whom he had a great regard called to see him. Though John Oram was not +the kind of man who changes his mind lightly when he saw whose name +was engraved on the card which had been brought in to him, the lawyer +at once made up his mind that he must spare time for this visitor. +</p> + +<p> +For one thing, her business must be serious, for she lived in the +country, and this was the first time she had ever called on him +without first making an appointment. Further, she was a widowed lady +he had known since he was quite a young man, and for whom he had a +very high esteem, and, it might almost be said, affection. But he had +despised her husband, and he did not really like her son—though the +son had none of the faults which had brought his father to ruin. +Lastly, Mr. Oram was willing to see this client because she was a +woman of few words. She would tell him at once why she wished to see +him, and then she would go away. +</p> + +<p> +“Show Mrs. Gretorex in,” he said quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“There is a young lady with her, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“A young lady?” +</p> + +<p> +Did that mean that Roger Gretorex was thinking of getting married? If +so, unless the girl had money, he would be doing a very foolish and +improvident thing. Mr. Oram did not really think that this was at all +likely to be the reason for Mrs. Gretorex’s unexpected visit; but a +solicitor is apt to consider every possibility. +</p> + +<p> +However, Mr. Oram’s old friend and client came unaccompanied through +the baize door of his private room. Mrs. Gretorex had left Enid in the +waiting-room, for there were certain things which she knew she would +have to say, and which she felt she could only say when alone with the +solicitor. +</p> + +<p> +As she looked at her old lawyer’s stern face, though the expression on +it was just a little softer than usual, even her high courage +faltered. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps you know, Mr. Oram,” she said in a low voice, “what it is +that has brought me here this morning?” +</p> + +<p> +“No,” he said, surprised, “I have no idea at all, Mrs. Gretorex——” +</p> + +<p> +He could see she was very much disturbed, and he drew forward a chair. +After all, it wouldn’t hurt that frivolous little widow to wait for an +extra half-hour or so for the two thousand pounds Miles Rushworth was +so rashly presenting to her free and for nothing. Mr. Oram’s knowledge +of human nature told him that probably a very great deal more money +was coming Ivy’s way from the same source as this money came from. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gretorex bent a little forward. She fixed her sunken eyes, for +she had not slept at all the night before, on the lawyer’s face. +</p> + +<p> +“Roger has been arrested on the charge of having murdered a man called +Jervis Lexton——” +</p> + +<p> +“Roger arrested on a charge of murder? God bless my soul!” +</p> + +<p> +He took off his eyeglasses and began cleaning them mechanically with a +small piece of wash-leather which he kept for that purpose. +</p> + +<p> +Here was indeed a complication! And a very troublesome as well as a +painful complication, from his point of view. His own connection with +the Gretorex family was hereditary. His grandfather had been, not only +the lawyer, but the very close friend and trustee, of Mrs. Gretorex’s +father-in-law. As for the rich Rushworths, they were in Mr. Oram’s +estimation mere upstarts compared to the ancient, if now impoverished, +county family. +</p> + +<p> +“If you don’t mind,” he said suddenly, “I’ll send for Finch. In a case +of this sort two heads are better than one. Also Finch can take notes +of any information you can give me about the matter.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gretorex would much rather have told her story to this good old +friend alone. But she saw the sense of his suggestion, and they both +waited in silence till the head clerk came in. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gretorex rose and shook hands with Mr. Finch. She was well +acquainted with him, and she had always liked him. +</p> + +<p> +“May I tell Finch what you have just told me?” Mr. Oram asked. +</p> + +<p> +She bent her head, overwhelmed with a passion of agony and shame. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Gretorex has brought bad news, Finch. Her son has just been +arrested on the charge of having caused the death, I presume by the +administration of arsenic, of Mr. Jervis Lexton. I take it”—and he +looked very straight into the younger man’s face—“that you had no +notion of this fact, when you told me, this morning, that you had +heard that an arrest was about to be effected in connection with the +Lexton affair?” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred Finch prided himself on his self-control, and wise lack of +emotion, where anything connected with business was concerned. But his +face was full of dismay as he answered instantly, “No name at all was +mentioned, sir. I was simply told that an arrest was imminent.” +</p> + +<p> +He turned to Mrs. Gretorex. “When was it that Mr. Roger was arrested?” +He had known “Mr. Roger” from childhood. +</p> + +<p> +Tears welled up to her tired eyes. “Last evening,” she answered. +</p> + +<p> +“I wish he’d sent for us at once,” Finch exclaimed. “It’s always +important to get one’s blow in first, and especially over a matter of +this kind.” +</p> + +<p> +“My son was arrested at Anchorford House. I came up by the night +train, as the police inspector from Lynchester said he would be +brought to town the first thing this morning. I suppose he is in +London by now.” +</p> + +<p> +Finch looked at his employer. +</p> + +<p> +“In that case, don’t you think, sir, that I’d better go off at once +and try to find Dr. Gretorex? Let me see. Where would he be charged?” +</p> + +<p> +Mentally he answered his own question. Then he observed, “I hope he +made no statement to the police?” +</p> + +<p> +“He wished to make a statement, but the inspector advised him not to +do so.” +</p> + +<p> +“You think, Finch, that you’d better go off now, instantly?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure of it, sir. Even now, I fear I shall be too late to stop his +saying something he’d best keep to himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“I feel quite sure he has nothing to hide,” said Mrs. Gretorex rather +stiffly. But neither of the two men made any comment on that. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Oram was the first to break the silence. +</p> + +<p> +“Very well, Finch. You go off,” he said. “Start at once! And of course +no expense is to be spared?” +</p> + +<p> +He glanced at his client, and she quickly nodded. +</p> + +<p> +“Meanwhile, I’ll make rough notes of any information that Mrs. +Gretorex is good enough to give me. But I don’t suppose she really +knows very much.” +</p> + +<p> +And then in a serious tone he asked her, “Were you yourself acquainted +with Mr. and Mrs. Lexton?” +</p> + +<p> +He put the question just as the other man was leaving the room, and +Mrs. Gretorex saw Finch stay his steps. It was clear that he wished to +hear her answer. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve never seen Mr. Lexton; but Mrs. Lexton spent a week-end at +Anchorford last winter.” +</p> + +<p> +Both men noticed the somewhat embarrassed way in which Roger +Gretorex’s mother answered that question. +</p> + +<p> +At last, reluctantly, Finch shut the door. How useful it would be, +sometimes, to find oneself in two places at once! +</p> + +<p> +Being the manner of woman she was, Mrs. Gretorex did not try to +conceal anything of what was in her heart from her old and trusted +friend. +</p> + +<p> +“I am absolutely certain, Mr. Oram, that Roger had nothing to do with +Mr. Lexton’s death. On the other hand, it would be dishonest to +conceal from you my conviction that he is in terrible danger.” +</p> + +<p> +“What makes you think that, if you are certain he is innocent?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because,” answered Mrs. Gretorex in a low tone, “he loves this woman, +Ivy Lexton, desperately. He admitted as much to me last night, before +we supposed there was any fear of an immediate arrest, but after he +had already had an interview with someone from Scotland Yard——” +</p> + +<p> +“Roger in love with a married woman. That’s the last thing I should +have expected to hear!” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Oram got up. “I have a bit of business I must attend to this +morning, Mrs. Gretorex. But I suggest that you wait here till a +telephone message comes through from Finch.” +</p> + +<p> +As they shook hands, “I beg you, I implore you,” she said in a stifled +voice, “to try and believe Roger innocent.” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Oram said to himself, “I will—until he is proved guilty.” Aloud +he exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“Of course I believe him innocent! But, Mrs. Gretorex, I have +something very serious to say to you; that is, I feel that this is not +the kind of case of which I have the necessary experience, and I doubt +if I should be able to afford your son the kind of legal assistance +which he needs.” +</p> + +<p> +He saw a look of terror and of fear flash over her face. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t desert me in my extremity!” she exclaimed. “You know as well as +I do that I haven’t a single man relation in the world. You, Mr. Oram, +are my only hope.” And he saw that tears were rolling down her cheeks. +</p> + +<p> +“If you feel that, Mrs. Gretorex, then be assured that I shall do my +best for Roger.” +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch14"> +Chapter Fourteen +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">While that</span>, to both of them, woeful conversation was going on +between the mother of Roger Gretorex and the old lawyer, Ivy Lexton +sat in her drawing-room, waiting impatiently for John Oram, and—his +cheque. +</p> + +<p> +She felt quite differently from what she had felt the day before, and +happier from every point of view. For fear, that most haunting of +secret house-mates, had gone from her. Indeed, after seeing Mr. Oram, +she had spent the rest of the afternoon at the establishment of the +dressmaker who was just then the fashion in her set. Whilst there she +had bought four black frocks “off the peg,” and she had also ordered a +splendid fur coat. +</p> + +<p> +No wonder that she was now waiting feverishly for the old lawyer to +call and take her across to the bank. Two thousand pounds? What an +enormous lot of money! It was the first time Ivy had had even a +quarter of such a sum absolutely at her disposal. In the old days, +when Jervis was still a man of means, she had never had a regular +allowance. She had simply run up bills, and Jervis, grumbling +good-naturedly, had paid them. +</p> + +<p> +But the moments, the minutes, the quarters of an hour slipped by, and +Mr. Oram dallied. What could have happened? She had become +uncomfortably aware yesterday that Miles Rushworth’s solicitor did not +like her, and that he thought Rushworth’s interest in her strange and +inexplicable, so she began to feel thoroughly “rattled,” as she +expressed it to herself. +</p> + +<p> +At last she heard the lift stop outside the flat. What did that +portend? The longed-for coming of Mr. Oram with his bountiful cheque, +or more trouble for her, for poor little Ivy? +</p> + +<p> +Then she gave a gasp—but it was a gasp of joy, for she had heard the +lawyer’s frigid voice inquiring whether she were in. Before the maid +could open the door of the drawing-room she had opened it herself and +exclaimed, “Is it Mr. Oram?” +</p> + +<p> +She was too full of instinctive tact when dealing with any man to +utter even a light word of reproach, though the solicitor was over an +hour later than he had said he would be. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Oram walked into the drawing-room, and then, very deliberately, he +shut the door behind him. +</p> + +<p> +Again there came over Ivy a sick feeling of fear. He looked stern, +forbidding, and as a certain kind of man looks when he is the bearer +of bad news. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry I’m late,” he said abruptly, “but I couldn’t help myself. +I’ve brought the cheque, and we will proceed in a few moments to the +bank. But first I would like to tell you, Mrs. Lexton, that +circumstances have arisen that will make it impossible for me to act +as your lawyer with regard to any proceedings that may arise in +connection with your husband’s death.” +</p> + +<p> +He cleared his throat, and then went on: “As I cannot act for you, I +will find you a first-class man, who will probably have far more time +to devote to your affairs than I should have been able to do.” +</p> + +<p> +She looked at him, wondering what this really meant, and a tide of +dismay welled up in her heart. +</p> + +<p> +“But Mr. Rushworth,” she began falteringly, “again told me, in a cable +that I received only this morning, that you would do everything you +could for me, Mr. Oram?” +</p> + +<p> +She had not meant to tell anyone of that long, intimately-worded +cable, the first in which Rushworth had allowed something of his +intense exultation at the knowledge that she was now free to pierce +through the measured words. It seemed to her impossible that anyone +could disregard the wishes of so important and, above all, so wealthy +a man as Miles Rushworth. To Ivy the sound of money talking drowned +every other sound in life. But this, to her discomfiture, was not the +case with John Oram. +</p> + +<p> +“I know that,” and this time he spoke more kindly. “And I’m sorry I +shall not be able to do what Mr. Rushworth very naturally hoped I +could do. But I have discovered——” and then he stopped for what +seemed to her a long time. +</p> + +<p> +He was wondering whether she was yet aware that Roger Gretorex had +been arrested on the charge of having murdered her husband. Already +the fact was billed in all the early editions of the evening papers. +</p> + +<p> +“The truth is,” he began again, and in a colder tone, “not only I, but +my father before me, and my grandfather before him, acted in a legal +capacity for the Gretorex family.” +</p> + +<p> +The colour rushed into Ivy’s face. She said defensively, “But need +that make any difference, Mr. Oram?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, yes, I’m sorry to say that it will, Mrs. Lexton. Roger +Gretorex, as you are no doubt aware, was arrested last night on a +charge of having poisoned Mr. Jervis Lexton. He has put his interests +in my hands. It would not be to your advantage were you to employ the +same solicitor as the man who is accused of having murdered your +husband. I am sure,” he cleared his throat, “you are aware of what Dr. +Gretorex’s motive is supposed to have been, assuming that he is guilty +of that of which he is accused?” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy looked so frightened that for a moment he thought she was going to +faint. +</p> + +<p> +Then she hadn’t known of Gretorex’s arrest? Even John Oram, who was +already strongly prejudiced against her, could not doubt that the +horror and distress with which she heard his news were genuine. +</p> + +<p> +She sank down into a chair. +</p> + +<p> +“But this is terrible—terrible!” she moaned. +</p> + +<p> +“It is terrible, Mrs. Lexton. And, incidentally, you see, now, how I +am situated? When I came here to see you yesterday, I naturally did +not associate my friend and client, Dr. Roger Gretorex, with the +strange and mysterious circumstances surrounding your husband’s death. +I have not yet seen a copy of the statement you appear to have made to +the inspector who came to see you from Scotland Yard; but I gather +that you made certain admissions that were very detrimental to my +client.” +</p> + +<p> +“The man pressed me so! I didn’t want to hurt Roger,” she exclaimed, +and thought she spoke the truth. +</p> + +<p> +Twenty minutes later, as the two came out of the bank, Mr. Oram said +quietly: +</p> + +<p> +“With your permission, Mrs. Lexton, I am going to put you in touch +with an old friend of mine, a most able lawyer named Paxton-Smith. He +will not only watch your interests in a general sense, but you can +trust him to give you the soundest advice. In your place, I would make +a point of being frank with him concerning everything connected with +your husband’s life as well as with his death.” +</p> + +<p> +It was strange what a feeling of repugnance, almost of horror, this +beautiful girl—for she looked a girl—inspired in him. But that, so +he told himself, for he tried to be fair-minded, was no doubt owing to +the way Roger Gretorex’s mother had spoken of Ivy Lexton that morning. +</p> + +<p> +“Tell Mr. Paxton-Smith, as far you know it, the truth, the whole +truth, and nothing but the truth,” he went on. “Many ladies, when in +conference with their legal adviser, are tempted to hold something +back. There can be no greater mistake. You can be absolutely sure of +Mr. Paxton-Smith’s discretion; and unless he knows everything you can +tell him, it will be impossible for him to advise you adequately.” +</p> + +<p> +She was gazing at him with affrighted eyes. Tell the truth, the whole +truth, and nothing but the truth? Why, she couldn’t even begin to +think of doing that! But, even so, the old lawyer’s words impressed +her. Why, oh! why, had she been tempted to tell the man from Scotland +Yard that half-truth as to Roger and his love for her? By now, when it +had become clear to her that no one suspected her, she had almost +forgotten what had brought about that dangerous admission. +</p> + +<p> +“You are, I understand, going to be the chief witness for the Crown,” +said Mr. Oram solemnly. +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t know that! What does being that mean?” faltered Ivy. +</p> + +<p> +“It means,” he said drily, “that the prosecution is counting on you to +aid them in proving that Roger Gretorex became that most despicable of +human beings, a slow, secret poisoner, in order that you might be free +to become his wife.” +</p> + +<p> +She unconsciously stayed her steps, and was staring up at him as if +hypnotised by his words. +</p> + +<p> +He looked down fixedly into her face. What lay hidden behind those +lovely eyes, that exquisite little mouth, now spoilt, according to his +taste, by a smear of scarlet paint? +</p> + +<p> +“Only God knows the secrets of all hearts, Mrs. Lexton. I have not +asked you, and I do not propose to ask you, if you believe that +unhappy young man to be guilty of the fearful crime of which he is +accused, and for which he is about to stand on trial for his life. But +if there is any doubt in your mind, and, far more, if you believe him +innocent, I beg you, earnestly, to consider and weigh every word you +utter from now on.” +</p> + +<p> +But, even as he made that appeal, moved out of his usual cautious self +by his real regard for Roger Gretorex and his intense pity for Roger’s +mother, he felt convinced that Ivy Lexton would, in all circumstances +and contingencies, only consider herself and what was to her own +advantage. +</p> + +<p> +How amazing that such a man as was Miles Rushworth should be moved to +passion by such a frivolous, mindless, selfish woman! But that such +was the case John Oram had far too much knowledge of human nature to +doubt, even for a moment. He was, indeed, by now as sure as was Ivy +herself that, in due course, Mrs. Jervis Lexton would become Mrs. +Miles Rushworth. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly Ivy said something which very much surprised her companion, +and made him dislike her even more than he already disliked her. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you going to cable everything that has happened to Mr. +Rushworth?” she asked in a frightened tone. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Rushworth will learn precisely what the Cape Town newspapers +choose to publish, and what you choose to cable to him. He has not +asked me to communicate with him, and I am not proposing to do so.” +</p> + +<p> +He held out his hand. “And now I must say good-bye, Mrs. Lexton. I +will try to arrange that Mr. Paxton-Smith shall ring you up before +lunch. He will then make an appointment to see you. I should like, if +I may, to give you one word of advice. It is this. Refuse, however +great the temptation, to disclose anything that concerns your +husband’s death to anyone, excepting, of course, to Mr. Paxton-Smith.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then shan’t I see you again?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +Though deep in her heart she was glad to be seeing the last of Mr. +Oram, she knew him to be her only link, in London, with Miles +Rushworth. +</p> + +<p> +“Should Mr. Rushworth cable me instructions to do so, I shall of +course transmit to you any money or any messages he may choose to send +through me. But, apart from that, it is clear that in your own +interest Roger Gretorex’s legal adviser should have no more +communication with you.” +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +That same afternoon Philip Paxton-Smith had his first interview with +Ivy Lexton. Unlike John Oram, he took an instant fancy to the +prettiest client and most attractive little woman, so he told himself, +that a Providence which was apt to be kind in that way to the shrewd +and popular solicitor had ever sent his way. +</p> + +<p> +So it was that, after a very few moments, Ivy found herself chatting +to him almost happily. +</p> + +<p> +He listened with unaffected, indeed absorbed, interest to her +sentimental half-true, half-false, account of her first meeting with +Roger Gretorex. Of how the young man had “fallen for her” at once, and +how she had seen coming, and tried to stave off, his declaration of +passionate love. +</p> + +<p> +She also managed to convey to her new friend’s sympathetic ears what +manner of man she now desired Jervis Lexton to be supposed to have +been. Easy-going, good-tempered, devoted to her, and yet entirely +selfish, frightfully extravagant, and, when they were not out together +enjoying a good time, a great deal at his club. +</p> + +<p> +“Poor lonely little woman,” said the lawyer to himself. “The real +wonder is that she remained as straight as she did.” +</p> + +<p> +Paxton-Smith and his partner did a very different class of business +from that associated with the firm of which John Oram was now senior +partner. They were constantly associated with what are loosely called +“society cases,” and Paxton-Smith himself, something of a gay +bachelor, was seen a good deal in that section of the London world +which seems to live for pleasure. He was well liked by men. As for +women, well, he liked women—and they liked him too. +</p> + +<p> +During his first interview with Ivy Lexton, after he had, as he +believed, won her entire confidence, he cleverly led her to give an +almost verbatim report of the conversation which she had had with +Inspector Orpington. And though once or twice he shook his head when +he heard what she had admitted, he was able to do to her what he +failed to do to himself, that is, make her believe that, on the whole, +she had been wise rather than unwise in her dealings with the man in +whose charge had been the preliminary inquiries concerning her +husband’s death. +</p> + +<p> +Philip Paxton-Smith was both a clever man and a clever lawyer. But +“this dear little woman,” as he already called her to himself, was +more than a match for him. How amazed would he have been could some +entity outside himself have been able to convince him, at the end of +the two and a half hours that he spent with Ivy Lexton that afternoon, +that she had, as a matter of fact, so completely deceived him as to +make him believe her everything she was not! +</p> + +<p> +True, he had begun by thinking her just a little stupid; but he had +ended by realising that she was far more intelligent than many of the +women with whom he was in contact. That, naturally, had made him like +her all the more, for there is nothing more tiresome or annoying to +any good lawyer than having to deal with a dull and obstinate client. +</p> + +<p> +As for Ivy, she was happier after Paxton-Smith had left her than she +had felt since the terrible moment when the card of Inspector +Orpington had first been brought in to her. +</p> + +<p> +Not only did the genial lawyer inspire her with confidence, but she +was naturally pleased and relieved to feel that he believed everything +she told him. It was such a comfort, such a moral support, to feel +that he “liked” her, and that he was going to do his very best to help +her through what even she now realised was going to be a dangerous and +anxious time. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +By the morning following the day of Ivy’s first memorable interview +with her lawyer, it was obvious to all those concerned with the case +that what was already called “The Lexton Mystery” was going to develop +into a <i>cause célèbre</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Already the personality of Jervis Lexton’s young widow was becoming of +moment, indeed of absorbing interest, to hundreds of thousands of +newspaper readers. And as the dark, early winter days slipped by, men +and women engaged in wordy combat as to whether she was the sweet, +wholly innocent, guileless woman portrayed by her admirers, or a +typical example of the selfish, heartless, extravagant little minx +old-fashioned folk are wont to describe the modern girl and young +woman. +</p> + +<p> +Very soon her exquisite face became as familiar to the public as those +of the more popular actresses. She, not Roger Gretorex, emerged as the +central figure of this drama of love and death; this if only because +she was, to the mind of everyone interested in the story, the one +point of mystery. +</p> + +<p> +Had she loved in secret the good-looking young doctor who had almost +certainly slowly, craftily, done to death the man who was now +described as having been his best friend? Or was it, as she was said +to aver, the truth that Gretorex had adored her with no touch of +encouragement on her part? +</p> + +<p> +Here and there some were found ready to whisper that perhaps “Ivy” had +been “in it.” But they were a small minority of the vast public +interested in such a story, and, for the most part, they kept their +view to themselves. It is a dangerous thing to libel the +living—especially a woman blessed with as many ardent champions as +was Jervis Lexton’s widow. +</p> + +<p> +And Ivy herself? For a little while Ivy remained unaware of the +amazing interest which was already being taken in her past thoughts, +past secret emotions, and past way of life. +</p> + +<p> +She went through many anxious, troubled solitary hours till, all at +once, those acquaintances, both men and women, who become friends at a +moment’s notice, crowded round her, pleased and excited to be +associated with so terrible and mysterious an affair. +</p> + +<p> +Their new mission in life, so they pretended to themselves and others, +was to try to cheer up poor pretty little Ivy in her solitude. It must +be admitted that these, for the most part, young friends, succeeded in +their laudable object to an extent that sometimes amazed Paxton-Smith. +</p> + +<p> +Those giddy, good-natured, carelessly heartless men and women all took +so absolutely for granted the fact that Roger Gretorex had committed +murder for love of Ivy Lexton. Some of the men about her indeed hinted +with a half-smile that they could well understand the poor chap’s +motive. +</p> + +<p> +One of them, the well-to-do idle bachelor who had been about with her +so much this last autumn, and who was acting as her cavalier at the +theatre and supper party on the evening of Jervis’s death, actually +said to her, “I wouldn’t back myself not to have done the same thing +in his place! After all, ‘opportunity makes the crime.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +But, if comforted, she had also been stung by that well-worn saying; +for she knew, better than anyone in the whole world just now, how +great is the awful truth embodied in those trite words. +</p> + +<p> +The women who gathered round Ivy Lexton during those days were not all +inspired by morbid curiosity and excitement. Especially was Lady Flora +Desmond very kind to her. +</p> + +<p> +Lady Flora thought she understood something of what Mrs. Lexton must +be feeling because she herself had gone through such a terrible agony +when her husband had died. Lady Flora was a real support to Ivy during +those long days of waiting for the day when she would be compelled to +appear as chief witness for the Crown at the trial of Roger Gretorex. +</p> + +<p> +True, this kind friend wanted to take her away to her country cottage, +but Ivy refused with quiet obstinacy. She knew that she would go +melancholy mad were she left with no one to talk to except one +affectionate, sympathising woman friend. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Jervis Lexton had plenty of good excuses for remaining in London, +for, during the comparatively short time which elapsed between +Gretorex’s arrest and the opening of his trial, there took place the +long-drawn-out legal formalities of which the public are only aware to +an extent which whets, without satisfying, curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +But at last everything was “in order”; so Paxton-Smith put it to the +woman to whom he found himself devoting far more thought, as well as +time, than he had ever done before to any client, however charming, in +his successful legal career. +</p> + +<p> +The shrewd solicitor sometimes felt something like angry contempt for +the foolish, selfish, talkative men and women who buzzed round the +young widow during these, to him, anxious and tiring days. He supposed +himself, naturally enough, to be just now her only real stand-by in +life. +</p> + +<p> +How amazed, how piqued, he would have been, had some tricksy spirit +whispered in his ear the news that every morning, and sometimes in the +evening too, Ivy received a long cable of sympathy, support, and even, +as the days went on, of disguised passion! +</p> + +<p> +Of that passion of love which can assume so infinite a variety of +shapes and disguises, Ivy Lexton had had many an exciting experience, +but none so satisfying as that conveyed thousands of miles, and in a +shadowy form, from the man for whom, as she now dimly realised, she +had run at any rate the risk of a shameful and horrible death. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +Ivy, for once, was quite alone, lying down in the drawing-room, +reading a magazine, one evening, when suddenly the door opened. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Gretorex wishes to see you, madam,” said the maid in a nervous +tone. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy leapt up from the sofa, and by the shaded light of the reading +lamp which had stood close to her elbow, she saw a tall, +spectral-looking figure advancing into the room. +</p> + +<p> +But it was a firm and very clear voice that exclaimed: “I did not +write and ask you to receive me, Mrs. Lexton, as I feared you might +say ‘No.’ I’m not acting on Mr. Oram’s advice in thus coming to see +you, but I know he doubts, as I do too, if you are really aware in +what deadly danger my son now stands?” +</p> + +<p> +“Do sit down,” murmured Ivy. +</p> + +<p> +She felt a surge of angry fear of Roger Gretorex’s mother, but she had +quickly made up her mind to be what she called “sweet” to her +unwelcome visitor. When, always against her will, the thought of +Gretorex forced itself on her mind, there was coupled with it the +terrifying perception that by now he must be well aware of who it was +who had brought about the death of Jervis Lexton. +</p> + +<p> +“Appearances,” said Mrs. Gretorex in a low, quiet voice, “are very +much against Roger. His counsel is thinking, we understand, of putting +forward a theory that your husband committed suicide. I have come to +ask you if you can advance anything to add even a tinge of probability +to that theory? Was there insanity in Mr. Lexton’s family? Did he, +above all, say, even once, that he might be tempted to take his life?” +</p> + +<p> +These clear, passionless questions gave Ivy no opportunity for the +display of her special gifts. She asked herself nervously what she +ought to say in answer to these definite queries. +</p> + +<p> +Would it be to her interest to allow it to be thought that she, at any +rate, believed it possible that Jervis had done away with himself? +Then she decided that, no, it would not pay her to accept what +everyone who had ever come in contact with her husband, including +Nurse Bradfield, and the two doctors who had been attending him, would +know to be impossible. So: +</p> + +<p> +“I never heard him say anything of that sort,” she answered +regretfully, “except in fun, of course.” She added, as an +afterthought, “But I know how much Jervis hated to be poor, Mrs. +Gretorex.” +</p> + +<p> +The older woman threw an imperceptible look round the luxurious room. +</p> + +<p> +“But he wasn’t poor,” she said quickly. “He had just got, or so we +understand, a good new post.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know he had. That’s one of the things that makes it all so +dreadful——” +</p> + +<p> +And then Mrs. Gretorex, who was herself a very honest woman, felt +impelled to ask what was perhaps a dangerous question. +</p> + +<p> +“I need hardly ask you what you think? Whatever be the truth, you do +not believe, Mrs. Lexton, that my son poisoned your husband?” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy did not answer for what seemed to Mrs. Gretorex a long, long time. +Then she exclaimed, twisting her fingers together: +</p> + +<p> +“It’s no good asking me that sort of thing, because I honestly don’t +know what to think. It’s all so strange!” +</p> + +<p> +“But surely you know Roger to be innocent?” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy let her eyes drop. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, I want to think that,” she said in a low tone. +</p> + +<p> +“You want to think it, Mrs. Lexton? D’you mean that you have any doubt +about it?” +</p> + +<p> +Again Ivy twisted her fingers together. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s all so strange,” she repeated falteringly. “And it’s so +unfortunate that Dr. Gretorex was the last one to see my husband alone +on the day he died.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gretorex got up. +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” she said in a dull tone. “Then you are half inclined to +believe that Roger did do this terrible thing—for love, I suppose, of +you?” +</p> + +<p> +And there flashed a look of awful condemnation over the mother’s worn +face. +</p> + +<p> +“Please don’t say that, Mrs. Gretorex! I never said that I thought +poor Roger really did it!” cried Ivy hysterically. “Perhaps Jervis did +commit suicide, but, as nurse says, if he did poison himself, where +did he get the stuff to do it with? Also Roger was so fearfully gone +on me. It’s all so very, very strange!” +</p> + +<p> +Oh, why had Mrs. Gretorex come here, just to torture her and frighten +her? It was too cruel! +</p> + +<p> +Then Roger Gretorex’s mother did make to the woman who stood before +her, this woman whom her son loved to his undoing, a desperate appeal, +though she worded what she had to say quietly enough. +</p> + +<p> +“I understand that you’re going to be the principal witness for the +Crown at my son’s trial?” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy began to cry. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” she sobbed. “Isn’t it dreadful—dreadful? As if I hadn’t gone +through enough without having to go through that too!” +</p> + +<p> +“On what you say,” went on Mrs. Gretorex firmly, “may depend Roger’s +life or death. After all, you and he were dear friends?” +</p> + +<p> +She uttered that last sentence in a tone she strove to make +conciliatory. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy stopped crying. Then Roger hadn’t given her away, even to a very +little extent, to his mother? It was a great relief to know that. +</p> + +<p> +“I implore you to guard your tongue when you are in the witness-box,” +went on Mrs. Gretorex. +</p> + +<p> +“I will! I will indeed——” +</p> + +<p> +“Can you think of no natural explanation with regard to the utterly +mysterious thing which happened?” +</p> + +<p> +Her eyes were fixed imploringly on the beautiful little face of this +frivolous—Mrs. Gretorex believed mindless—woman, whom Roger still +loved so desperately. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve thought, and thought, and thought——” whispered Ivy. +</p> + +<p> +And then for the fourth time during this brief interview she uttered +the words, “It’s all so strange.” +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +As, a few minutes later, she walked down Kensington High Street, still +full of bustling, happy people on shopping intent, Roger Gretorex’s +mother was in an agony of doubt, wondering whether she had done well +or ill in thus forcing herself on Mrs. Jervis Lexton. +</p> + +<p> +Again and again there echoed in her ear the silly, vulgar little +phrase: “Roger was so fearfully gone on me.” +</p> + +<p> +Gone on her? Alas, that had been, that was still, only too true. Even +now his one thought seemed to be how to spare Ivy pain, and, above +all, disgrace. +</p> + +<p> +She stepped up into a crowded omnibus at the corner of Chapel Street, +and for a while she had to stand. Then a girl gave up her seat to her, +and heavily she sat down. +</p> + +<p> +Who, looking however closely at Mrs. Gretorex sitting there, her worn +face calm and still, would have thought her other than an +old-fashioned, highly bred lady, leading the placid life of her +fortunate class, that class which even now is financially secure, and +seems to be so far apart from and above the sordid ills and anxieties +of ordinary humanity? +</p> + +<p> +Yet there can be little doubt that Roger Gretorex’s mother was the +most miserable and the most unhappy woman of the many miserable and +unhappy women in London that night. To the anguish, which was now her +perpetual lot, was added a feeling that she had done, if anything, +harm, in forcing herself on Mrs. Lexton. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve done no good!” she exclaimed as she walked into the sitting-room +of the lodgings in Ebury Street where she and Enid Dent had taken +refuge, after spending two or three days with a kind friend who, they +had soon discovered though no word had been said, considered Roger +almost certainly guilty. +</p> + +<p> +The girl looked dismayed, for it had been at her suggestion that Mrs. +Gretorex had gone to Duke of Kent Mansion. +</p> + +<p> +Enid Dent now felt convinced that Ivy Lexton held the key to the +mystery of Jervis Lexton’s death. She had never seen this woman whom +she now knew that Roger loved, but she had formed a fairly clear and +true impression of Ivy’s nature and character. Hatred, as well as +love, has sometimes the power of tearing asunder the most skilfully +woven web of lies. +</p> + +<p> +And then there began for them all what seemed an interminable time of +waiting. And all those nearly concerned with the case, apart from Ivy +herself, felt almost a sense of relief when the winter day at last +dawned which was to see Roger Gretorex stand his trial at the Old +Bailey. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch15"> +Chapter Fifteen +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">During the night</span> which preceded the day when Ivy Lexton was to +appear as chief witness for the Crown, she lay awake, hour after hour, +dreading with an awful dread the ordeal that lay before her. +</p> + +<p> +Her chattering, excited circle of friends had all unwittingly +terrified her with their accounts of how Gretorex’s counsel, Sir +Joseph Molloy, was apt to deal with a witness. And in the watches of +the night, Ivy, shivering, saw herself faced by that ruthless +cross-examiner. +</p> + +<p> +What was this formidable advocate going to say to her, to get out of +her, by what one of her admirers had laughingly called “his exercise +of the Third Degree?” +</p> + +<p> +For the first time the widow of Jervis Lexton realised how insincere +and how shallow were the sympathy and the cloying flattery with which +she was now surrounded. Only two human beings seemed really sorry at +the thought of what was going to happen to her to-morrow—Lady Flora +Desmond and Philip Paxton-Smith. +</p> + +<p> +The concern manifested by her solicitor made Ivy feel sick with +apprehension. He had spent hours with her trying to teach her what she +had to say; that is, what to admit, what to deny, during her +cross-examination. +</p> + +<p> +It was plain, dreadfully plain, to her, that Paxton-Smith was very +much afraid of how the great Sir Joseph Molloy would treat her when he +had her in his power. +</p> + +<p> +Again and again, during that long winter night, she asked herself with +terror whether Sir Joseph could have found out anything with regard to +her past relations with Roger Gretorex. +</p> + +<p> +She knew Gretorex far too well to suppose, even for a moment, that he +had given her away. But the short interview with Roger’s mother, +though she, Ivy, had appeared to come out of it so well, had left a +frightening impression. And she shivered as she recalled the terrible +expression which had come over Mrs. Gretorex’s face when making to her +the appeal which she had rejected with words implying that she, too, +believed the man who loved her had been guilty of a terrible crime. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy even asked herself with a kind of angry resentment, in the +darkness of the night, why Roger Gretorex had not done this thing of +which he stood accused? +</p> + +<p> +Her own set, the men and women round her, all seemed to think it +natural, in a sense, that he should have done it. And yet, though he +had had many opportunities of ridding himself of Jervis Lexton, in the +days when he had been so much with them, and though the only bar at +one moment which had stood in the way of his happiness had been the +life of Jervis Lexton, the thought of doing such a thing had evidently +never even occurred to his mind! +</p> + +<p> +Looking back, Ivy knew that there had been a time last winter when, +had she then become a widow, she would have married Gretorex. She had +been—how curious to remember that time now, though it was less than a +year ago—infatuated with the splendid-looking young man who loved her +with so intense and passionate a devotion. +</p> + +<p> +She remembered, also, how reckless she had been in those old days. +Anyone but Jervis would have suspected the truth. Thank God, she +hadn’t known Miles Rushworth, even slightly, during those mad weeks of +what she had called her love for Roger Gretorex. Rushworth would have +guessed, nay more, he would have known, what was going on. +</p> + +<p> +Had Roger’s mother suspected the truth? Almost certainly, yes. If Mrs. +Gretorex thought it would help Roger, she would of course tell the +famous advocate who was now fighting for her son’s life what she +believed had been the real relations between her son and the woman who +was to be the chief witness against him. +</p> + +<p> +Always it was to Sir Joseph Molloy, the man whose name she had never +heard till, say, a fortnight ago, that Ivy’s thoughts turned with +dread, during those endless hours of darkness when she tossed this way +and that through the long night. +</p> + +<p> +Nurse Bradfield had had a terrible time in the witness-box. Indeed, +she had confessed to Ivy last evening that Sir Joseph could have made +her say black was white and wrong right! He had dwelt with sinister +insistence on the short time that she, Mrs. Lexton, had been left +alone with Mr. Lexton on that fatal last afternoon; nay, more, he had +almost gone so far as to imply that, had Nurse Bradfield been faithful +to her trust and had not gone out for those few minutes, Jervis Lexton +might be alive to-day. Also he had called her “Woman!” She had even +appealed to the Judge to protect her—not that that had done her much +good. +</p> + +<p> +The nurse’s account of the ordeal she had been through filled Ivy with +such foreboding that she would have done anything, even gone back to +the old black days when she and Jervis lived in those poverty-stricken +Pimlico lodgings, if she could thereby have wiped out all that had +happened since. +</p> + +<p> +When at last there came the morning, she got up, pale and really ill. +Then she waited, in an extremity of nervous fear, till, at last, there +came the moment when Mr. Paxton-Smith, looking, so she told herself, +like an undertaker, and not at all like his usual jovial self, called +in his car to take her to the Old Bailey. +</p> + +<p> +During their long drive in the crowded streets the lawyer remained +almost entirely silent. He had explained and made her rehearse +yesterday, carefully and kindly, everything she must say and refrain +from saying. +</p> + +<p> +When passing the Piccadilly end of Bond Street, for the chauffeur, +chauffeur-like, had taken them the longest way, a sob escaped Ivy. +There had risen before her a vision of care-free, happy nights, spent +in dancing, and in what old-fashioned people would have called riotous +living, within a few yards of where the car was now being held up in +the traffic. +</p> + +<p> +After they had gone on again, her frightened eyes caught glimpses of +the newspaper placards. On each one was blazoned forth her now +notorious name: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="center"> +LEXTON MYSTERY.<br> +LEXTON MURDER.<br> +NURSE IN THE BOX. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Though she was singularly unimaginative, Ivy shuddered as she told +herself that, in a couple of hours from now, maybe, there would be the +words, “Mrs. Lexton in the Box,” or, worse by far, “Mrs. Lexton +Cross-examined.” +</p> + +<p> +At last, after what seemed both to Paxton-Smith and to his client a +long drive, the car drew up by a side door of the great frowning +building called by that name of dread to every evildoer the Old +Bailey. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +What an awesome, and in some ways superb, spectacle is the scene +presented by every British trial for murder! And if this is always +true, even in the humblest country town Assize Court, how much more +tense and awe-inspiring is what takes place in the courthouse of the +Old Bailey, when the prisoner in the dock is the central figure in a +murder mystery which has suddenly become world-famous. Especially is +this true when the accused man is putting up a struggle, not only for +his life, but what to some men really does mean more than life—his +honour. +</p> + +<p> +Since the war there has appeared in London a new world of idle, +luxury-loving human beings who live for pleasure, and who, if their +income is fluctuating and uncertain, yet mysteriously appear always +plentifully provided with ready money to burn on what they call “fun.” +</p> + +<p> +To the eyes of those composing this new world, lovely Ivy Lexton, and +good-humoured, popular Jervis Lexton, had been familiar figures, +especially during the years when they were merrily engaged in running +through their capital. All these people regarded the trial of Roger +Gretorex as a spectacle produced and staked for their special benefit, +and while the more enterprising and fortunate among them attended each +day the exciting proceedings at the Old Bailey, the others all read +with avid interest the full accounts of the trial which appeared every +morning in whatever happened to be their favourite daily paper. +</p> + +<p> +Although the case was called the Lexton Mystery, none of the hundreds +of thousands of Roger Gretorex’s fellow-countrymen and countrywomen, +who were following each detail of the story as unfolded now day by day +in Court, considered that there was very much mystery about it. What +was of tense interest, and what formed the real enigma, was the latest +variant of the eternal triangle—the story of the relations of the +three, wife, husband, and lover. +</p> + +<p> +One doubt remained in many a mind. That doubt concerned the relations +of Ivy Lexton and of Roger Gretorex. To what extent, if any, had that +beautiful young woman been involved in her lover’s guilt? Was it true +that her own feelings, with regard to the young man who had slowly +done a husband to death so that a wife should be free, had been simply +those which it was known she was going into the witness-box to swear +they had been? Had they really been feelings of kindly and +indifferent, not to say tepid, friendship? +</p> + +<p> +Another question which is always being asked by every student of human +nature was asked in this case—that is, whether a certain kind of +exalted passion, the passionate love of a man for a woman which leads +to crime, can exist without even a touch of secret encouragement? +</p> + +<p> +The more worldly-wise shook their heads, and said that, whatever +romantic poets and novelists may aver, such entirely unrequited +passion on the part of an intelligent, educated man is impossible. +Surely, before such a man as Roger Gretorex had set out to do that +awful thing, he must, at any rate, have had some cause to believe that +Ivy Lexton, when widowed, would become his wife? +</p> + +<p> +There was yet another point which made this judicial drama appear, to +use a phrase sometimes used in such a connection, “a full-dress +trial.” Justice may be blind, yet she can see the glitter of gold. No +money had been spared on either side. Indeed, judging by the array of +counsel engaged, there must have been limitless wealth available for +the defence. And, in a sense, there was, for Mrs. Gretorex had thrown +all the fortune that remained to her into the struggle for her son’s +life. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +And now, on the fourth day, was approaching the great moment of Roger +Gretorex’s trial for murder. The highest peak of the fever chart of +this drama, which was being watched not only by those who were present +in Court, but by hundreds of thousands of English-speaking people all +over the world, was now about to be reached. +</p> + +<p> +There came a peculiar rustle through the Court, followed by a moment +of complete silence, as Ivy Lexton stepped, with short, dainty steps +into the witness-box, and faced what appeared to her a myriad world of +eyes fixed on her pale countenance. In accordance with a strong hint +given yesterday by her solicitor, Ivy had not made up her face at all +to-day. +</p> + +<p> +Paxton-Smith, as the tense moments flew by, felt full of admiration +for his beautiful client. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy even remembered everything that he had advised with regard to her +behaviour when in the witness-box, including certain things she might +well have been pardoned for forgetting. One of these had been that, +when answering counsel for the Crown, she should hold her head well +up. +</p> + +<p> +This she obviously tried to do, and when, as more than once happened, +she threw what looked like a childlike glance of fear and supplication +at the kind, if grave, face of the inquisitor whose only desire was to +learn the truth and nothing but the truth, a thrill of sympathy went +through her great, silent audience. +</p> + +<p> +Again, when the flawless oval of her face appeared framed in the tiny +little pull-on black hat, and her star-like eyes for a moment looked +wild, many a man, watching her, told himself that he could well +understand, indeed almost sympathise with, any crime being committed +by one who loved her, and who longed, as only lovers long, to have the +exquisite creature standing there at bay entirely his own. +</p> + +<p> +But one curious thing was observed by those who note such things. This +was that not once did Ivy Lexton glance at the prisoner in the dock, +during the long examination-in-chief. +</p> + +<p> +As for Gretorex, he on his side crossed his arms and stared straight +before him as if with unseeing eyes, during the whole of the time the +woman he had loved with so devoted and trusting a love, remained in +the witness-box. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Jonathan Wright, the leading counsel for the Crown, to whom fate +had assigned Ivy Lexton as his principal witness, was very gentle with +her, moved, no doubt, by her evident, shrinking fear. But all those +present in Court were struck by the clear way she answered the +questions concerning her early married life, the loss of Jervis’s +fortune, and his final, successful, effort, to find work. +</p> + +<p> +It was not until she was questioned as to her relations—her +“friendship,” as counsel put it—with the prisoner that Ivy’s voice +for the first time became inaudible, and that the Judge had to +admonish her to speak louder. +</p> + +<p> +But at once she responded with pathetic submission to the flick of the +whip. +</p> + +<p> +“I am sorry to have to press the question, Mrs. Lexton”—and the +distinguished man on whom had fallen the, to him, painful duty of +conducting the prosecution did feel really sorry for this lovely, +pathetic-looking, young creature—“but I put to you, and most +solemnly, the question: What were your real relations to and with Dr. +Gretorex?” +</p> + +<p> +“We were great friends. All three of us were great friends. My +husband, too,” she answered, in a tone which, if clear, yet quivered +with pain. +</p> + +<p> +“Were your husband and Dr. Gretorex friends before you ever met Dr. +Gretorex?” +</p> + +<p> +Then came a whispered, “I don’t know.” +</p> + +<p> +“Eh, what?” +</p> + +<p> +The Judge, Mr. Justice Mayhew, was old, but none the less keen and +clear as regarded his mind, though he was slightly deaf. +</p> + +<p> +“She does not know, my lord,” said Sir Jonathan emphatically. +</p> + +<p> +Then he turned back to his witness. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you think they were already acquainted?” +</p> + +<p> +“I really don’t know.” And then, perhaps because she saw she was +creating a less good impression than had been the case with regard to +her other answers, “I think not,” she said firmly. +</p> + +<p> +As the examination went on, it became clear that Ivy Lexton was +painfully anxious to say all that was good of Roger Gretorex. More +than once she managed to bring into one of her answers to a short +question the fact that he had been kind to her—very, very kind. +</p> + +<p> +And those who listened breathlessly to Ivy’s artless story of how the +prisoner in the dock had come to love her, were moved by her apparent +surprise and gratitude that he should have been “so kind” to her. +</p> + +<p> +With quivering lips, again and again, in no wise checked by the man +who was taking her, step by step, through the story of these last few +months, she said a good word for the now tragic lover with whom she +had been on those terms—peculiar, and yet how usual nowadays—when a +beautiful young married woman, while enchanted to take all she can +from a man, will yet give nothing in exchange. +</p> + +<p> +And with every word she uttered, with every apparently spontaneous +admission, Ivy threw a secret thought over the sea to Miles Rushworth, +and of what he would think to-morrow of what she said, and left +unsaid, to-day. +</p> + +<p> +How strangely drawn out appeared that first portion of her ordeal, to +Ivy herself, and to the man now on trial for his life! Not so to those +who listened, with ever-increasing curiosity and excitement, to her +admissions, omissions, and equivocations. +</p> + +<p> +But it was generally agreed that, as a matter of fact, the murdered +man’s wife had very little to reveal, after all. Even the most +mindless and stupid of those present knew that the jury only had to +look at her, standing there in the witness-box, and then to look at +the prisoner in the dock, to know what must have been that young man’s +motive for the crime of which he stood accused. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy was so helpless-looking, so fragile, so appealing, as well as so +exceedingly lovely. She seemed, indeed, to some of those watching her, +like some poor little delicate furry creature caught in a cruel steel +trap. +</p> + +<p> +Had she flirted dangerously, heartlessly, with Roger Gretorex? Even +that seemed doubtful to some of those listening to her low-toned +replies to counsel for the Crown. +</p> + +<p> +There were women now watching her intently who had come into Court +that day with the strongest prejudice against Ivy Lexton. Yet they +were conquered by what appeared to be her effortless, youthful charm, +as also by her evident suffering. And then her many pitiful little +efforts to say the best she could say for this man who had loved her +moved her own sex, in some cases, to tears. +</p> + +<p> +Many a woman there told herself that the witness now in the box had +once loved the prisoner in the dock, even though she had not known it +then, and though she would deny it, no doubt, even to herself, now. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +At last came the moment which Ivy had visualised hundreds of times in +the last few days—the moment, that is, when Sir Joseph Molloy rose to +begin his cross-examination of the chief witness for the Crown. +</p> + +<p> +The silence that there had been before was as a loud noise to the +silence there was now. But, as always happens, three or four people +coughed nervously, and were angrily hushed by those about them. +</p> + +<p> +What was Sir Joseph going to do? One thing certainly. It would be +nothing less than his bare duty to try to prove to the jury that, +because she had taken everything, and given nothing, the beautiful +wife of Jervis Lexton had goaded this young man, Roger Gretorex, to +the frenzy which leads to crime. +</p> + +<p> +Not long ago Sir Joseph had caused two juries to disagree over what, +to the plain man, had been a clear case of murder. That simply because +he had been able to prove that the prisoner in the dock, who was a far +from prepossessing type of bucolic lover, had been rendered jealous to +madness by the foolish girl whom he had killed, and this though his +act had been clearly premeditated. That had been a very different case +from the Lexton case, and one not nearly so exciting to those in +Court. Still, there were many present to-day who remembered the +terrible cross-examination of the poor dead girl’s mother. It had been +the way Sir Joseph had dealt with the trembling woman, the admissions +he had forced out of her, which had saved his client’s life. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch16"> +Chapter Sixteen +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">But even</span> in a court of law, where everything, in spite of what the +more ignorant section of the public may think, is arranged and +pre-arranged, the unexpected sometimes does happen. +</p> + +<p> +To the amazement of everybody present, Sir Joseph Molloy was almost as +kindly, as courteous, as careful of hurting her feelings, in his +cross-examination of Ivy Lexton, as his good friend Sir Jonathan +Wright had been during the examination-in-chief. Indeed Sir Joseph, as +a famous descriptive writer declared the next morning, was positively +dove-like in his gentleness. When cross-examining Mrs. Jervis Lexton, +his object seemed to be simply that of proving that Roger Gretorex, in +everyday life, had been a considerate, chivalrous, and extremely +unselfish friend. And that had already been freely admitted by the +leading counsel for the Crown. +</p> + +<p> +True, there came a moment when Sir Joseph, who found it painfully +difficult to play the rôle he had faithfully promised Roger Gretorex +to play, pressed Ivy just a little hard as to what form of words the +prisoner had used on the last occasion he had made love to her. +</p> + +<p> +The witness broke down, for the first time, over that probing +question, and it was sobbing that she asked: “Must I answer that?” +</p> + +<p> +The Judge explained to her, kindly enough, “Yes, prisoner’s counsel is +entitled to an answer to that question. But if you cannot remember the +exact form of words which were used on that occasion, you are entitled +to say so.” +</p> + +<p> +And then she replied, uttering the words very clearly this time: “I +can only remember that he said he loved me, and that were I free he +hoped I would become his wife.” +</p> + +<p> +Now those were the last words Sir Joseph had intended Ivy Lexton to +utter in answer to his question. And the knowledge that this was so +caused a murmur of—was it amusement?—to run through the Court. The +public much enjoy hearing a witness score off counsel. +</p> + +<p> +“And what did you answer to that?” he asked sharply. +</p> + +<p> +And then, as Ivy again began sobbing, shrugging his great shoulders he +signified that his cross-examination of the principal witness for the +Crown was over. +</p> + +<p> +Some of those present in Court were cruel enough to regret that Sir +Joseph had not been up to his usual form. What would not such people +have given to have heard what had passed at an interview the great +advocate had had, only yesterday, with the man now standing rigid in +the dock! +</p> + +<p> +Sir Joseph Molloy always insisted on seeing any man or woman whom he +was about to defend on a charge of murder and, at his final interview +with Gretorex, the prisoner had begun by begging him most earnestly to +refrain from cross-examining Ivy Lexton. +</p> + +<p> +But as to that, his counsel had refused to be guided by the accused +man’s wishes. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you expect me to put the hangman’s rope round your neck?” he had +asked harshly. +</p> + +<p> +Even so, he had promised that he would be very gentle with her. And +gentle he had been, all the more gentle, perhaps, because, at the very +end of that painful, curious interview, Gretorex had said to him, +gazing right into his eyes: +</p> + +<p> +“Treat Mrs. Lexton as you yourself would treat the woman you love, or +your own cherished sister, were she in the witness-box and you her +cross-examiner.” +</p> + +<p> +So it was that, to his bitter regret, Sir Joseph Molloy had behaved, +with regard to Ivy, in a way quite foreign to his nature. What he had +longed to do was to turn this lovely little creature inside out, and +to apply to her, in his own inimitable, almost affectionately feline, +manner, that awful Third Degree before which even the innocent +trembled. +</p> + +<p> +After a great deal of anxious thought, he had made up his mind to +plead, on his client’s behalf, a fit of temporary insanity. He hoped, +that is, to persuade the jury that, by some extraordinary combination +of circumstances, Jervis Lexton had been suffering in very truth from +some commonplace digestive disorder up to that last day when Gretorex, +driven mad by jealousy and love, had done the awful deed. Not, that +is, as the slow poisoner goes to work, but as a man takes out a knife +to stab his rival to the heart. +</p> + +<p> +That had been, roughly speaking, the line Sir Joseph had intended to +take before he had seen his client. But to do that he would have had +to play with Ivy Lexton as a powerful cat plays with a young mouse, +and that course of action had been absolutely forbidden by the man +whom he now believed innocent, even though reason whispered that he +must be guilty. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +Then was it all over—the ordeal she had so dreaded at an end? Ivy +felt suddenly as if everything were whirling round her, and indeed she +nearly fainted. But she made an effort to pull herself together, and +to those who saw her leave the witness-box the expression on her white +face appeared deeply pathetic. +</p> + +<p> +“Bravo! You did splendidly! I’m proud of you,” whispered Paxton-Smith. +</p> + +<p> +And then he asked, “Would you like to stay on in Court, or shall I +take you home?” +</p> + +<p> +He hoped she would say “Home.” +</p> + +<p> +For a moment she looked undecided, then, “I think I would like to +stay,” she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +Now that her part was done, and with her legal adviser’s “Bravo!” +pounding in her ears, she felt she would prefer to be here rather than +alone in the flat. Indeed, when Paxton-Smith had found her a +comfortable seat among her friends, she began to feel a curious sense +of detachment, as if the drama of the trial being played out before +her scarcely concerned her personally at all. +</p> + +<p> +This strange feeling was really the measure of her profound relief at +having, so to speak, weathered the storm of what everyone had told her +would be such an awful experience. Why, it hadn’t been really terrible +at all! There had been moments of her examination—not of her +cross-examination—which in a sense Ivy had almost enjoyed. She had +been able to make herself out, to the great company of people about +her, what she believed herself to be—a sweet-natured, unselfish +little woman, whom everybody loved.… +</p> + +<p> +The appearance of Dr. Berwick in the witness-box gave her a momentary +sensation of unease. He was clear, unemotional, and not in the least +nervous. +</p> + +<p> +There was a little tiff between him and counsel when he told the story +of how he had come in one day, and found the prisoner prescribing for +his, Dr. Berwick’s, patient. It was put to him as a fact that Gretorex +had not made out any form of prescription and that when he was +“caught” apparently doing so, he had only been writing down the name +of an ordinary gargle, to be found made up in every chemist’s shop. +Also, at the time he had written down the name of that proprietary +preparation, Gretorex was under the impression that, Dr. Lancaster +having had an accident, the sick man had no one attending him, at any +rate at that moment. +</p> + +<p> +Even so, Dr. Berwick’s evidence was regarded by all those present as +very damaging to the prisoner, and Sir Joseph could do nothing with +him, save to denounce him angrily for not having insisted at once, as +soon as he became uneasy, on a second opinion. +</p> + +<p> +And then Roger Gretorex’s famous counsel flung by far the greatest +sensation of the trial on the Court. +</p> + +<p> +In a quiet, toneless voice he observed, as if he was stating the most +natural thing in the world, “I do not call any evidence.” +</p> + +<p> +There ran an excited murmur through the, till now, still audience. +Everyone had fully expected that the prisoner would give evidence on +his own behalf and, to the great majority of those there, the fact +that Gretorex had refused to go into the witness-box, not only signed +his own death-warrant, but proved conclusively that Sir Joseph +regarded his client as guilty. +</p> + +<p> +At first Ivy did not understand what it was that had happened. Then +two or three of the friends by whom she was surrounded excitedly +explained the exact meaning of Sir Joseph’s apparently casual remark. +</p> + +<p> +She, the woman in the case, said nothing in answer to these eager, +wordy explanations. Indeed, she seemed hardly to take in all that was +being told her. But inwardly she was feeling, oh! so thankful, so +intensely thankful, that Roger Gretorex had refused to give evidence. +She had been so horribly afraid that when in the witness-box her +one-time lover might, unwittingly, give her away. +</p> + +<p> +It was of Miles Rushworth that she was thinking, ever thinking, deep +in what she called her heart. He had been to her the only audience +that mattered, while she had been examined and cross-examined as to +her relations with the prisoner. +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” whispered someone just behind her, “comes the closing +speech for the Crown.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy was not particularly interested in the closing speech for the +Crown. And, truth to tell, neither was anyone else in Court, +excepting, it must be hoped, the jury. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Jonathan sat down at the end of—was it twenty minutes, or only a +quarter of an hour? +</p> + +<p> +There was a short moment of breathing space, and then all prepared to +give their best attention while Sir Joseph Molloy started what was +afterwards described as “his great speech for the defence.” +</p> + +<p> +But though it may have been a great speech, it was a very short +speech, for the famous advocate knew that the only hope of saving +Gretorex from the gallows would be to make the kind of appeal to the +jury which is always made in France with regard to what is called +there a <i>crime passionnel</i>. +</p> + +<p> +The fact that Sir Joseph had not elected to call any evidence gave +him, as all those instructed in the law who listened to him were well +aware, the last word. And he made the most of his privilege. +</p> + +<p> +More than once during the course of what was simply a noble panegyric +of Roger Gretorex, the prisoner went from deathly pale to very red. He +would have given many of his few remaining days of life to close his +powerful advocate’s mouth. Also, what was the use of it all? Gretorex +knew as well as did the Judge that the fact that he was high-minded, +chivalrous, the best of sons to a widowed mother, and a man whose +money affairs were in perfect order, had nothing to do with the +question as to whether he had committed the murder for which he was +being tried. Neither, for the matter of that, would the fact that he +had adored the wife of Jervis Lexton, and had gone temporarily mad for +love of her, save him from the gallows. +</p> + +<p> +One man, on whom by accident the prisoner’s eyes were fixed for a +moment, actually shrugged his shoulders, when Sir Joseph brought in a +swift allusion to the fact that one of the prisoner’s great-uncles had +died in a lunatic asylum. +</p> + +<p> +Now the Judge desired—indeed they all desired—to finish the case +that day. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you wish to stay on for the summing-up and for the verdict?” +whispered Paxton-Smith to his client. +</p> + +<p> +Again he hoped that Ivy would—well? have the decency to rise and say, +“No, I will go home, now.” +</p> + +<p> +But instead of saying “No,” she whispered, “Yes, I think I should like +to do that.” +</p> + +<p> +And then, in slow, impressive tones, the Judge began his summing-up. +</p> + +<p> +Though Mr. Justice Mayhew took what seemed to be a considerable time, +his was one of the shortest addresses to a jury ever delivered in an +important trial for murder at the Old Bailey. The story he had to +recapitulate was, in a sense, so very ordinary. It had been unfolded, +in all its stark simplicity, by a tiny handful of witnesses, including +of course the most important of them all, the young wife of the +murdered man. +</p> + +<p> +Even so, speaking himself with impressive clarity, the Judge went over +the now well-known tale step by step. And finally his lordship +directed the jury that the fact that a man has been what is loosely +called “driven mad” by love does not mean that he is not capable of +keeping command over his faculties. Why, at the very time this was +supposed to have happened to the prisoner, he was in charge of a large +medical practice, and carrying out all the responsible, anxious duties +attached to such a practice in an admirable manner! +</p> + +<p> +“We have here the not uncommon case of a strong man’s infatuation for +a beautiful woman who gives him little, if any, encouragement,” he +observed. +</p> + +<p> +And there was a murmur of disapproval when one of Ivy’s women friends +gave a sudden little cackle of laughter, to the shocked surprise of +everyone in Court. +</p> + +<p> +The Judge brushed aside with relentless logic any effect that might +have been produced on the jury by Sir Joseph Molloy’s moving account +of Gretorex as a wise, unselfish physician, a devoted son, and within +the possible limit a generous landlord. No doubt all that was true. +But the whole history of crime was there to prove that a person could +be all these excellent things, while being also a cruel, callous, +secret murderer. +</p> + +<p> +In this case, assuming Gretorex was guilty, the man who had been +slowly done to death had been the secret poisoner’s own familiar +friend, his boon-companion in many a party of careless pleasure. +Further, the man before them, the prisoner in the dock, had not even +dared to go into the witness-box. The Judge pointed out in solemn, +measured tones that he had the right to comment, and comment most +seriously, on that omission. +</p> + +<p> +As the afternoon wore itself away, every one became very weary. Even +Ivy began to wish that she had gone away when Paxton-Smith had last +suggested that she should do so. +</p> + +<p> +She stole a glance at Roger Gretorex. He was looking straight at the +Judge, with a thoughtful, measuring glance. He looked far more +himself, his reserved, intelligent self, than he had done when Sir +Joseph was engaged in making that dramatic, useless appeal to the +jury. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy Lexton gazed at the prisoner in the dock with a strange feeling at +her heart. In a sense she was still proud of this man who had been her +devout, adoring lover. He looked so brave, so cool, so completely +self-possessed. The majority of those who now and again glanced his +way to see how he was “taking it” thought him revoltingly callous. +</p> + +<p> +And, at the same moment that Ivy was doing so, Roger’s mother stole a +look at him. Her heart was full of such agony that she felt as if +merciful death might suddenly intervene and end it all for her. And +her agony was shared, one is tempted to say, almost to the full, by +the girl who sat beside her. +</p> + +<p> +At last the summing up was over. The prisoner was taken below, and +then began the waiting for the verdict. +</p> + +<p> +To many of those in Court the jury seemed to be away a long, long +time. Yet as a matter of fact, it was only a bare half-hour before all +those who had gone out to stretch their legs, and talk over for the +hundredth time the only real point of mystery in the story, came +swarming back into the Court. +</p> + +<p> +Slowly, almost in a leisurely way, the nine jurymen and the three +jurywomen filed in. Some of those present noticed that not a single +juror looked at the prisoner, who had been brought back to the dock +and now stood at ease between two warders. +</p> + +<p> +Although the verdict was a foregone conclusion, every human being +there looked strained, anxious; and Ivy Lexton again felt sick and +faint. For the first time since she stepped into the witness-box no +one was looking at her, for everyone was looking at the jury. +</p> + +<p> +Everything being now ready, the Judge returned to the bench, all those +who were seated in Court rising to their feet. +</p> + +<p> +The Judge, having bowed to the Court, seated himself, and so, +apparently, did everyone else there, except the three men, the +prisoner and his custodians, standing in the dock. +</p> + +<p> +Then the Clerk of the Court asked the fateful question: +</p> + +<p> +“Members of the jury, have you agreed upon your verdict?” +</p> + +<p> +There was a pause, but at last the foreman of the jury, a nervous, +intelligent-looking man, who was evidently intensely relieved that his +responsible task was now over, answered in a clear tone, “We have.” +</p> + +<p> +“Do you find the prisoner, Roger Kingston Gretorex, guilty or not +guilty of the wilful murder of Jervis Lexton?” +</p> + +<p> +There was a scarcely perceptible wait, and then came the one +word—“Guilty.” +</p> + +<p> +And it was as if there swept a great sigh through the now lighted +Court, followed by a sudden buzz of talk. +</p> + +<p> +But this was instantly quelled when the ushers cried sternly, +“Silence!” +</p> + +<p> +All eyes were now fixed on the prisoner. He was standing far more +stiffly to attention than he had done a moment ago, as the clear tones +of the Clerk of the Court rang out: +</p> + +<p> +“Roger Kingston Gretorex, you stand convicted of wilful murder. Have +you anything to say for yourself why the Court should not give you +judgment according to law?” +</p> + +<p> +“Only that I am innocent.” +</p> + +<p> +The five words were uttered in a cool, firm tone. +</p> + +<p> +It was the second time during the whole course of the trial that +anyone there had heard Roger Gretorex’s voice. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy felt better now, and she watched everything that went on with +eager, excited interest. +</p> + +<p> +Sitting near the Judge was a young man to whom no one had before paid +any special attention. But now every eye was fixed on him, for it was +he who lifted a square of black cloth, and placed it, with careful +deliberation, on the Judge’s wig. +</p> + +<p> +Then solemn, slow, emphatic tones of admonition fell on the heavy air. +They were not cruel words, for the Judge felt deeply sorry for the +young man before him. He had heard, only last evening at a +dinner-party, something of the quiet, kindly, useful life that Mrs. +Gretorex and her son had both led since the death of the husband and +father who had caused their financial ruin. +</p> + +<p> +And then came the awful words— +</p> + +<p> +“Roger Kingston Gretorex, the jury, after a careful and patient +hearing, have found you guilty of the wilful murder of Jervis Lexton. +The sentence of the Court upon you is that you be taken from here to a +lawful prison, and from there to a place of execution; and that you be +there hanged by the neck until you be dead; and that your body be +buried within the precincts of the prison in which you shall have been +last confined after your conviction; and may the Lord have mercy on +your soul.” +</p> + +<p> +As Ivy Lexton, supported by a number of her friends and acquaintances, +left the Old Bailey by a back way, she chanced in the passage to meet +Mrs. Gretorex face to face. The eyes of the two women crossed—and a +stab of horrible pain flashed across the worn, yet even now calm, face +of Roger Gretorex’s mother. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch17"> +Chapter Seventeen +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +“<span class="sc">I took</span> Mrs. Gretorex a nice cup of tea at seven o’clock, for I +heard her moving about even before then. But the poor lady only just +sipped it. She said her throat seemed swollen, so she couldn’t +swallow. But she’s up now, and I do wish, miss, you’d go in and try +and persuade her to have just a little bit of breakfast. Me and my +husband—well—we both fairly broke down and cried last night, when we +thought of how we’d feel if it was our boy that was going to be hanged +by the neck till he was dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“I hope she doesn’t let her mind dwell on that,” Enid’s pale face went +a shade paler, as she looked into the kind, pitying eyes of Mrs. +Gretorex’s landlady. +</p> + +<p> +“How can she help hearing those awful words a-ringing in her ears? Why +they rings in mine, ever since yesterday! I’m sorry I did stay till +the end. A friend warned me, so she did. She says to me, ‘Maria, +you’ll enjoy every bit of it up to the jury coming back. But if I was +you I’d leave the Court before the Judge puts on his black cap.’ I +wish I’d done that now!” +</p> + +<p> +As Enid advanced into the sitting-room, and saw Mrs. Gretorex’s figure +leaning back in the deep grandfather’s chair, she thought for one +moment—and to her it was a blessed moment—that her dear old friend +was dead, that she had died, literally, of a broken heart, so rigid +was the lonely looking figure, so calm and white the face, so pale the +lips. +</p> + +<p> +But Roger Gretorex’s mother was not dead, and hearing Enid’s +footsteps, she opened her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +“I want you to have something to eat, Mrs. Gretorex. Mr. Oram told me +yesterday that he thought you might be allowed to see Roger to-day. +You must keep up your strength.” +</p> + +<p> +“I will,” said the other quietly. “But it’s an odd thing, Enid, when +that kind soul brought in my cup of tea this morning I found I +couldn’t swallow. Perhaps I can now. At any rate I’ll try.” +</p> + +<p> +Enid came up a little closer to the big chair. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder if you would think it strange if I went and had a talk with +Mr. Finch?” she said a little nervously. +</p> + +<p> +“With Mr. Finch?” Mrs. Gretorex looked surprised. +</p> + +<p> +“From something he said the other day, I gathered that he has some +theory which is not shared by Mr. Oram. I should like to know what it +is. Somehow I feel that there must be something we could do——” +</p> + +<p> +There was such a fervour of revolt, of anguish, in the steady voice, +that the older woman for one moment forgot her own agony. +</p> + +<p> +She felt deeply moved; even she had not realised how much Enid cared. +The girl had kept an entire curb over her feeling during the terrible +days that the two had sat next to one another in Court. +</p> + +<p> +She got up from her chair, and came close up to Enid Dent. +</p> + +<p> +“I feel as if there was nothing left, for me at any rate, to do but to +endure.” +</p> + +<p> +“I feel,” cried the girl, “as if there was a great deal left to do! +Mr. Oram is an old man, Mrs. Gretorex, and though he’s been so awfully +good to us, I’ve had the feeling——” then she stopped. +</p> + +<p> +“I know,” replied Mrs. Gretorex in a low voice. “I realise, too, that +he believes that Roger did that awful thing.” +</p> + +<p> +“But Mr. Finch,” said Enid eagerly, “knows that Roger is innocent! +Would you mind my going and seeing him? He’s always at the office long +before Mr. Oram arrives there in the morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“You can do exactly what you think best. I trust you entirely; so, I +know, does Roger.” +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +Twenty minutes later Enid Dent was sitting in the rather drab-looking +waiting-room, lined with steel-bound boxes, where she had spent, +during the last few weeks, many dreary, anxious minutes. But this time +she had not long to wait, for Mr. Oram’s head clerk soon appeared, a +look of surprise on his face. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid you’ll think I’ve come very early,” she said nervously. +“But the truth is, Mr. Finch, I wanted to have a short talk with you. +And I was anxious to see you before Mr. Oram arrived here this +morning.” +</p> + +<p> +“You come up now, at once, to Mr. Oram’s room, Miss Dent. He won’t be +here to-day, at all.” +</p> + +<p> +A feeling of relief swept over Enid Dent. She had a regard for Mr. +Oram, but she was also rather afraid of him. And she resented keenly a +fact which had become at once apparent to her—that he was convinced, +even if most unwillingly, of his client’s guilt. +</p> + +<p> +Enid had a direct, honest nature, as have so many people who yet do +not wear their hearts upon their sleeves. So it was that when the two +were together in Mr. Oram’s room, she began without any preamble: +</p> + +<p> +“From something you said the other day, Mr. Finch, I understood that +you believe there’s some as yet quite unsuspected mystery behind this +story of Jervis Lexton’s death. If I am right, will you tell me what +it is you do think? Also whether anything can be done to bring the +truth to light before—” And then once more she repeated that word +“before,” which may mean so very much or so very little in life. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred Finch felt and looked uncomfortable. To make a remark in a +casual way is very different from being pinned down, and asked what it +is exactly that you meant by saying what you did. But the girl was +looking at him with such anxious, appealing eyes, and, after all, if +he was a fool, he was being a fool in good company, that of the great +Sir Joseph Molloy himself. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Oram’s head clerk and the famous counsel had become friends over +the Lexton case, and what Mr. Finch was about to expound to Enid Dent +as his own theory was really Sir Joseph Molloy’s theory. Not, as he +intended carefully to explain, as to what had certainly happened, but +as to what might conceivably have happened, to provide an explanation +of what seemed inexplicable—how, that is, Jervis Lexton had come by +his death. +</p> + +<p> +“You may be aware,” he began a little nervously, “that there is a +section of the public, including whom I may call our most noted +amateur criminologists, who are convinced that we needn’t go further +than Mrs. Lexton herself. Their view is that, apart from Mr. Roger, no +one else, except the lady who is now his widow, can have had the +slightest motive for getting rid of poor Lexton. Now I don’t share +that view at all!” +</p> + +<p> +“Neither do I,” said Enid quickly. “We all know that Mrs. Lexton had +every reason for wanting her husband to remain alive.” +</p> + +<p> +“But what I do believe,” and a queer expression came over Alfred +Finch’s shrewd face, “is that Mrs. Lexton knows a good deal more than +she admitted yesterday in the witness-box. I can’t help suspecting +that there is some man, a stranger to the case, but well known to her, +who had some vital interest in compassing Jervis Lexton’s death. Far +stranger things happen in real life than any novelist would dare to +put in a story, Miss Dent. Men, aye, and women too, are more +unscrupulous than any ordinary person would imagine. Even Mr. Oram +would agree to that. If we can find among Mrs. Lexton’s admirers—and +she has a goodish few—some wealthy man who is in love with her, <i>and +who has easy access to any form of arsenic</i>, we might have something +like new evidence to offer when the case comes up on appeal.” +</p> + +<p> +“But if that is true,” said Enid quickly, “then the nurse must have +known that Mr. Lexton had some other visitor within a few hours of his +death—and the parlourmaid who gave evidence as to admitting Dr. +Gretorex the afternoon before Mr. Lexton died must have known it too.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred Finch looked straight into the girl’s now flushed, anxious +face. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it,” he asked impressively, “that rules the whole world +to-day?” +</p> + +<p> +And, as he saw she looked bewildered, he snapped out the one word, +“Money! What Mrs. Lexton and her lot call ‘the ready.’ ” +</p> + +<p> +What did he mean? In what way could money have played a part in this +sinister business? +</p> + +<p> +His next words enlightened her. +</p> + +<p> +“Money can do anything nowadays, for everybody wants money, and spends +money as they never did before. Believe me, Miss Dent, no one, in +these days, is incorruptible.” +</p> + +<p> +“What a terrible thing to say—even to think!” exclaimed Enid. +</p> + +<p> +“It may be terrible, but it’s the truth, Miss Dent! And it’s +particularly true when one considers the people who were mixed up in +this affair. All women, and poor themselves, mark you. I don’t mean to +imply for a moment that they meant to connive at murder. My view is +that their mouths, maybe, were shut with gold before they had any idea +what it was that they were going to be asked to stay ‘mum’ about. But +then? Well, then, they wisely, in their own interest, continued to +keep their mouths shut!” +</p> + +<p> +“I see,” said Enid slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“I was very much struck by the demeanour of that Nurse Bradfield in +the witness-box,” he went on eagerly. “Sir Joseph reduced her to a +drivelling state of terror. Now, why was that? You remember, maybe, +how he pressed her as to who else came to the flat besides Mr. Roger; +and how at last she had to admit that several ladies and gentlemen +came there, and that often she really didn’t know who they were! Now, +isn’t that a singular thing? We have the master of the house lying +ill—not ill enough to have a night nurse, but still, ill enough to +have a nurse all day. And yet a lot of people come and go—to lunch, +to play bridge, and to take Mrs. Lexton out in the evening! Now that, +to me, sounds very odd, not to say suspicious.” +</p> + +<p> +“I quite agree that it does seem strange and heartless,” said Enid in +a troubled tone. “But I liked Nurse Bradfield. I thought her a +truthful woman, though it was plain she was awfully frightened of Sir +Joseph.” +</p> + +<p> +“I never can understand why an honest witness should feel frightened +when in the witness-box,” exclaimed Mr. Finch in a tone of contempt. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, I can understand it so well!” cried the girl. “I know I should be +terrified, especially if Sir Joseph were cross-examining me as he +cross-examined that poor woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, be that as it may, Miss Dent, my point is that it came out very +clearly that a certain number of men, all friends and admirers of that +pretty little lady, came in and out of the flat during the poor chap’s +illness.” +</p> + +<p> +“And you actually think that Mrs. Lexton——” and while she was +seeking for the right word he broke in with: +</p> + +<p> +“If my theory is correct, I am inclined to think that Mrs. Lexton must +have a shrewd suspicion as to who the man was who did that terrible +thing—and I shan’t be at all surprised if she makes what is commonly +called a good marriage before the year is out!” +</p> + +<p> +“But what an awful thing—to allow an innocent man——” +</p> + +<p> +Again he cut across her words: “She’s a thoroughly selfish woman, and +only thinks of herself. But capable of murder?” he shook his head. “Oh +no, Miss Dent! The folk who are inclined to think that of her know but +little about human nature. I don’t claim to know more of the set Mrs. +Lexton lives in than one can gather from the newspapers, and perhaps I +ought to say from proceedings in the Bankruptcy Court. But, though +they’ll do almost anything for money, those sort of people stop short +at murder, believe me.” +</p> + +<p> +“Still, you do think it possible that Mrs. Lexton may be shielding a +murderer?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Finch hesitated. “That’s it exactly. I think she may be shielding +a murderer. How did she strike you in the witness-box?” +</p> + +<p> +“I thought her very clever,” said Enid Dent slowly. “Her one object +was to produce a good impression, and she succeeded.” +</p> + +<p> +Instinctively Mr. Finch lowered his voice. +</p> + +<p> +“I watched her very carefully, and listened even more carefully, while +she was in the witness-box, and I made up my mind that she believes +Dr. Gretorex to be an innocent man. Did I say believe? I think she +knows he is innocent.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think another thing,” said Enid, and she, too, allowed her voice to +drop. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that, Miss Dent?” Mr. Finch bent forward. +</p> + +<p> +“I feel quite sure”—and suddenly her pale face became red—“that +Roger suspects who did it. I think that’s why he wouldn’t give +evidence.” +</p> + +<p> +“God bless my soul,” exclaimed Mr. Finch, “I never thought of that! +You may be right, after all. But if it’s true, well, then he’s——” +</p> + +<p> +“Very quixotic?” +</p> + +<p> +“No, Miss Dent. Saving your presence, I was going to say he’s a damn +fool.” +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch18"> +Chapter Eighteen +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">That same morning</span>, the morning after the conclusion of Gretorex’s +trial, Ivy awoke late. For a moment she remembered nothing, for she +had gone through a very terrible strain the previous day, a greater +strain than she herself had been aware of, at the time. +</p> + +<p> +And then, all at once she remembered—remembered everything, and a +sense of something akin to ecstasy flooded her heart. She flung her +white arms above her head and stretched herself out luxuriously. +Then—for it was very cold—she snuggled down into bed again. +</p> + +<p> +How marvellous to know that her ordeal was over. All over—all over! +That from now on she need never see any of the people who had been +connected with this awful episode in her life. Perhaps, though, she +would make an exception as to Paxton-Smith, for he had been so awfully +kind to her, and he admired her so much! His description of how brave +and plucky she had been in the witness-box would surely delight Miles +Rushworth. Yes, Paxton-Smith should remain her friend. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile she would follow his advice. She would go away, that is, to +the country for a few days, to the delightful cottage near Brighton +belonging to Lady Flora Desmond. She could not go to-day, unluckily, +for Lady Flora had lent the cottage to some tiresome people. But they +would be leaving soon, and then she would go down there and have a +thorough rest. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy felt she wanted what some of her friends called “a rest cure,” +after all she had gone through. +</p> + +<p> +All at once there came a knock on the bedroom door—a knock, and a +quick whispered conversation outside. Something, too, very like a +giggle. +</p> + +<p> +She called out sharply “Come in,” and the day maid came in with a +broad grin on her young face. +</p> + +<p> +“Cook thought maybe that you’d like to see the paper she takes in, +ma’am. There’s such a beautiful picture of you in it!” +</p> + +<p> +And on the pink silk eiderdown the maid put down two picture papers, +the one that Ivy always glanced at every day, and another paper. +</p> + +<p> +Why, yes—there was the picture, and a very good one, too. Ivy had +been snapped by a Press photographer just as she had stood on the +doorstep of Duke of Kent Mansion, a moment before she got into +Paxton-Smith’s car. She gazed with pleasure at all the details of her +becoming costume. What a good thing that she had bought that charming +little model hat just before poor Jervis’s death. She had soon +discovered that what is called “mourning headgear” is apt to be +singularly unbecoming. +</p> + +<p> +“It does look nice, ma’am, don’t it? Cook says as how you looked +bewitching while you was giving evidence,” ventured the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“I wasn’t thinking of how I was looking,” said Ivy. +</p> + +<p> +And indeed this was the truth. As she had stood up there, the target +of all eyes, she had only thought of her coming cross-examination by +Sir Joseph Molloy. +</p> + +<p> +And then the girl made a mistake, and she knew that she had done so as +soon as she had said the words. +</p> + +<p> +“It does seem sad about that poor Dr. Gretorex, don’t it?” she +exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +For at once Ivy burst into tears—angry, frightened tears. It was too +bad, too bad, when she herself had succeeded this morning in entirely +banishing Roger from her mind, that he should be thus stupidly, +cruelly, thrust into it again. +</p> + +<p> +“Oh, ma’am, I’m so sorry! Please forgive me!” And the tactless young +woman almost ran out of the room. +</p> + +<p> +Nurse Bradfield came in to see what was the matter. She looked wan and +worn. Unlike Ivy, she had not slept the previous night; unlike Ivy, +the face of Roger Gretorex, especially his expression as he had +uttered, in answer to the awful question, the quiet words, “Only that +I am innocent,” rang in her ears. +</p> + +<p> +She had felt then, and she still felt now, a most painful sensation of +doubt. +</p> + +<p> +Was it possible, was it conceivable, that Gretorex was innocent after +all, and that her patient had secretly done himself to death? +</p> + +<p> +Every nurse comes across strange and most unexpected happenings in the +course of her work. And Nurse Bradfield, though in a sense she had had +an uneventful career, had yet been more than once very much startled +and surprised by the astonishing things people will sometimes do. +</p> + +<p> +She sat down, now, on the bed, and put her arms round the slender +figure, still shaken by angry, frightened sobs. +</p> + +<p> +“I know how you’re feeling, Mrs. Lexton,” she whispered. “I, too, +can’t get Dr. Gretorex out of my mind. But there’s still a chance, you +know, that something may be found out, even now. I mean between now +and his appeal. Mrs. Berwick told me last night that she knows some +great friends of Sir Joseph Molloy, and that he honestly does believe +Dr. Gretorex to be innocent. She says that Sir Joseph is going to +leave no stone unturned to try to prove his innocence. He’s in a +terrible state about it all, and he was very distressed at Dr. +Gretorex refusing to give evidence on his own behalf.” +</p> + +<p> +“But you think he did it, don’t you, nurse?” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy lifted her tear-stained eyes and gazed at the older woman. +</p> + +<p> +“I did think so,” muttered Nurse Bradfield. “And even now I can’t see +any other explanation. You and I know quite well that Mr. Lexton was +not the sort of man to do away with himself.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course he wasn’t!” exclaimed Ivy, with a touch of indignation. +</p> + +<p> +The nurse sighed. “Such extraordinary things do happen in life,” she +observed. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it Sir Joseph Molloy thinks he can find out? Did Mrs. Berwick +tell you that?” asked Ivy. +</p> + +<p> +She put the question in a careless tone, but she really wanted to +know; indeed she was very, very anxious to discover what it was that +Sir Joseph Molloy meant to do. +</p> + +<p> +“What he says he means to find out,” said the nurse, “is whether there +wasn’t some other person in the world who had a motive for getting rid +of Mr. Lexton, besides Dr. Gretorex. He’s got a sort of an idea that +there must have been someone else—someone who’s not been thought of +yet—someone whose name didn’t appear in the case.” +</p> + +<p> +And then was heard a hesitating knock on the door, and the maid came +in again, looking very much subdued. +</p> + +<p> +On the silver salver lay what had become Ivy’s daily cable from South +Africa. +</p> + +<p> +She saw a curious look flash over Nurse Bradfield’s face. As a matter +of fact, those daily cables were a source of much interest and +speculation to the household, now composed, apart from Ivy, of three +women. It was the more mysterious as Mrs. Lexton never left those +thick telegrams lying about. The daily cable always disappeared within +a comparatively short time of her receipt of the buff-coloured +envelope. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy did not open the envelope. She put it on a little table by the +side of her bed, and went on talking and listening. +</p> + +<p> +“Everyone in Court admired the way you gave your evidence, Mrs. +Lexton. Mr. Paxton-Smith told me you were the best witness he had ever +had. Indeed, he said that you were just perfection! Not too shy, and +not too bold. So clear, too! Every word you said could be heard, even +where I was sitting.” +</p> + +<p> +And then the speaker added, with considerable heat, “Some of the +people there seemed to me like hyenas! Blood—blood—blood—that’s +what they wanted, the horrid ghouls! Why, there was a man just behind +me who said he hoped that Sir Joseph would make mincemeat of you——” +</p> + +<p> +“I know that some of them wanted that,” murmured Ivy. +</p> + +<p> +“The story goes,” went on Nurse Bradfield, “that Dr. Gretorex begged +Sir Joseph to leave you alone.” +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder if he did?” +</p> + +<p> +That had not occurred to Ivy. But now, of course, she knew this to be +almost certainly the reason Sir Joseph had been so—so unlike what +everyone had expected him to be. +</p> + +<p> +And then there did come over her a little glimmer of gratitude. Yes, +Roger certainly loved her. No one would ever care for her as he cared. +She remembered, now, his having once said that he would go through any +torture in order to save her a moment’s pain. Well? Poor Roger hadn’t +really gone through torture exactly—that sort of thing has been given +up long ago, luckily. Still, it was very touching that, even in his +own time of danger, he had thought of her and of her reputation. +</p> + +<p> +After Nurse Bradfield had left the room, and after Ivy’s light +breakfast had been brought in and arranged on the bed-table, she broke +open Rushworth’s cable. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +My sister died yesterday. Sailing for home the day after to-morrow. +Will keep you advised by wireless of exact date of my return. I have +been thinking of you night and day. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +Rushworth coming back now, almost at once? Small wonder that a feeling +of ecstasy flooded Ivy Lexton’s whole being. She had gone through a +terrible ordeal, but that which was already in sight would make up for +everything. +</p> + +<p> +She jumped out of bed and locked her door. Then she went over to the +fireplace, and watched the flimsy sheets curl up and become thin and +black in the flames. After the first, she had always burnt each of +Rushworth’s cables as soon as she had read it through. Somehow it +seemed to her safer to do so. +</p> + +<p> +Unlocking the door, she rang for the maid to put on her bath, for she +wanted to go out and telegraph to Miles Rushworth. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +It was half-past ten when Ivy came back to the flat. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s a young lady to see you in the drawing-room, ma’am,” said the +maid. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy walked into the room smiling, for she expected to see waiting for +her one of the many women belonging to her old, idle, easy life. Why +shouldn’t they go out together shopping, and then come back to lunch? +</p> + +<p> +But the smile froze on her face, for it was a stranger who rose and +confronted her. Certainly a stranger, and yet somehow she had a +disturbing feeling that she had seen her visitor before, and in +disagreeable circumstances. +</p> + +<p> +Then all at once, with a feeling of sharp annoyance, she realised that +this was the girl who had been sitting with Mrs. Gretorex during the +concluding hours of Roger’s trial yesterday. And when she, Ivy, and +Roger’s mother had met face to face in a corridor of the Old Bailey, +the stranger had been there too. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope you’ll forgive my coming in this way without having first +asked if you would see me,” said Enid Dent. “But the matter is very +urgent, Mrs. Lexton, and the time is short, very short, between now +and Roger Gretorex’s appeal, otherwise I feel sure Mrs. Gretorex would +have come herself. Unfortunately, she is ill to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +As Ivy still said nothing, only looked at her with an expression of +fear, and yes, of dislike, on her lovely face, Enid exclaimed +desperately, “I am sure you would do anything to help Roger Gretorex, +Mrs. Lexton?” +</p> + +<p> +And then Ivy did what all through her life she had often done, when in +doubt. She burst into tears. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, I’d do anything,” she sobbed, “anything I could do! But +what can I do? I’ve gone through such an awful time. No one knows what +I’ve gone through, or how miserable I’ve been. No one thinks of me!” +she ended hysterically. “I feel as if I hadn’t a friend in the +world——” +</p> + +<p> +Enid went up close to her, and touched her on the arm. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m so sorry,” she said in a troubled tone. “I know how terrible it +must have been for you yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +She felt ashamed of what she had been led to believe by Mr. Finch an +hour ago. It seemed incredible to her that the poor little creature +before her, now trembling with emotion, could have acted the cruel +part Alfred Finch and Sir Joseph believed she was acting, shielding +the real murderer of her husband, and condemning an innocent man to a +frightful death. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy saw that she had made a good impression, and she became gradually +calm. +</p> + +<p> +Her one object was to get rid of this tiresome girl quietly. It had +been stupid, very stupid, of the maid to allow a stranger to come in +and wait, without knowing anything of her business. After all, this +girl didn’t look in the least like one of her, Ivy’s, smart friends. +Enid looked, to her critic’s practised eyes, a country bumpkin dressed +in a plain and by no means expensive, if well-cut, coat and skirt. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose,” she said politely, “that you’re poor Mrs. Gretorex’s +companion?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” answered Enid, “I am her companion. I’ve known her all my life; +and I’m very, very sorry for her.” And then her voice, too, broke. +</p> + +<p> +“What is it that Mrs. Gretorex thinks I can do?” asked Ivy in a +timorous voice. +</p> + +<p> +As the girl, who was struggling with her tears, answered nothing to +this: “Of course I’d do anything if I thought it could be of any +good,” she concluded. +</p> + +<p> +And then, suddenly, she had an inspiration. +</p> + +<p> +“People seem to forget all about poor Jervis,” she said in a hurt +tone. “After all, he was my husband, and I was very fond of him, +Miss——?” +</p> + +<p> +“Dent,” said the other quietly. “My name is Enid Dent.” +</p> + +<p> +And then she moved a little farther away from the still fur-clad +little figure, for those words, uttered in so pathetic a tone, had +suddenly brought Roger before Enid Dent. Roger, God help him, had +loved, perhaps still loved, this woman. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, Miss Dent, no one ever thinks now about poor Jervis, do they?” +</p> + +<p> +That had been a remark made to Ivy by Paxton-Smith a few days ago, and +she had been struck by the truth of it. +</p> + +<p> +Enid felt a tremor of discomfort flash across her burdened heart. It +was quite true that though his mysterious death had formed the subject +of a great and searching inquiry, none of them, now, gave any thought +to Jervis Lexton, the unfortunate young man who had certainly been +poisoned by someone masquerading as a friend. +</p> + +<p> +“I do know how you must feel about that,” she said in a low voice. +“But it’s only natural for Mrs. Gretorex, and the friends of Roger +Gretorex, to be thinking of him rather than of your husband, Mrs. +Lexton. You see, we who have known Roger all his life, are absolutely +convinced that he is innocent.” +</p> + +<p> +And then Ivy, whose nerves were on edge, suddenly made, in her own +immediate interest, a mistake. +</p> + +<p> +“Everyone <i>I</i> see,” she said quickly, defensively, “feels quite sure +that Roger Gretorex did do it. You must know that, Miss Dent, though +of course I wouldn’t say so to his mother.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does that mean that you”—Enid Dent took a step forward, and the +other instinctively stepped back as she met the accusing look in the +girl’s eyes—“yourself are convinced of his guilt, Mrs. Lexton?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think you have a right to ask me such a question!” She +uttered the rebuke lightly, pettishly. +</p> + +<p> +Why, oh! why, didn’t this tiresome, disagreeable girl go away? She had +no business here. Besides, she was only a paid companion. Ivy had a +great contempt for any woman earning her own living in a quiet, +humdrum way. +</p> + +<p> +A tide of anger was rising up in her heart, making her what she seldom +was, really angry. +</p> + +<p> +“It’s a hideous misfortune for me that I ever met Roger Gretorex!” she +exclaimed. “And yet you heard what I said in the witness-box? I did +try, indeed I did, to help Dr. Gretorex. What is more——” +</p> + +<p> +Enid had moved away again. She was standing still now, a look of +despair on her face. +</p> + +<p> +“—Mr. Paxton-Smith told me I oughtn’t to say a word, and I promised +him that I wouldn’t say a word to anyone ever, unless he was there +too!” +</p> + +<p> +Anger is very catching, as most of us know, and wrath had also risen +up in Enid Dent’s heart. How agonising it was to know that it was this +cruel, foolish, selfish, silly woman who had stolen the man she, Enid, +loved, and who, she believed in her heart, had loved her, before some +malign fate had thrown him in Mrs. Lexton’s way. +</p> + +<p> +So it was that, when she saw Ivy begin sidling towards the door, with +a quick movement she flung herself across the room and stood with her +back against it, barring the way. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Lexton?” +</p> + +<p> +She uttered the other’s name calmly, though she was now shaking all +over. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, Miss Dent? I’m sure no good can come of our going on +talking——” +</p> + +<p> +“Not only do I believe, but certain people, whose opinion you no doubt +would value far more than mine, believe too, that you know Roger +Gretorex to be innocent!” cried Enid. “They are convinced that you are +well aware who it was who craftily, cruelly, secretly poisoned your +husband. I warn you here and now, that if that is true, the truth is +going to be discovered!” +</p> + +<p> +She stopped, ashamed of, and frightened at, her own emotion. She felt +now, as if it were someone else who had uttered that passionate +warning. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy Lexton suddenly gave a stifled cry. Tottering forward she sank +down on a chair, and, moaning, covered her face with her hands. +</p> + +<p> +All at once, she could not have said why, perhaps it was a glimpse she +caught of Ivy Lexton’s convulsed face, there flashed into the girl’s +mind a certain dread suspicion; and much that had seemed inexplicable +suddenly became clear. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy slipped off the chair on to the floor, and lay there quite still. +</p> + +<p> +Enid Dent opened the door. +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid,” she said quietly to the maid who had been in the hall +obviously listening to what was going on inside the drawing-room, +“that Mrs. Lexton has fainted.” +</p> + +<p> +As the scared-looking young woman went to call Nurse Bradfield, who +was then packing, for she was about to go on to a new case, Enid left +the flat and, without waiting for the lift, she ran down the stairs. +</p> + +<p> +Hailing a taxicab she threw the driver her address in Ebury Street. +She felt extraordinarily excited, carried out of herself. Consciously +she longed for the man who was driving her to go faster—faster! At +last he drew up; she paid him off, put the latchkey in the lock, and +then, shaking with excitement, she walked straight into the room where +Mrs. Gretorex was still lying back in the big arm-chair. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I know now,” she said in a stifled voice, “who poisoned +Jervis Lexton, and you and I, Mrs. Gretorex, must try and think of a +way in which we can get proof, proof—proof!” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gretorex looked up at the girl. +</p> + +<p> +“Who is it you now suspect?” she asked slowly, “of having poisoned +Jervis Lexton?” +</p> + +<p> +Enid hesitated for a moment, then she said in a low voice, “His wife.” +</p> + +<p> +“I have felt almost sure, from the first, that Ivy Lexton poisoned her +husband,” said Mrs. Gretorex quietly. +</p> + +<p> +Then she rose and, coming quite close up to the girl, she added: “What +is more, I am convinced that Roger knows the truth now. That is the +real reason why he begged Sir Joseph Molloy to be very careful as to +what questions he put to Mrs. Lexton in his cross-examination.” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gretorex took Enid’s hand. +</p> + +<p> +“You and I believe this terrible thing of Ivy Lexton. But it can do +Roger no good to say what we believe. It would, even, probably, do him +harm.” +</p> + +<p> +“Does Mr. Oram know that you think her guilty?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes,” said Roger’s mother, and she sighed. “I told him just before +the trial opened. He begged me most earnestly to put any idea of the +kind out of my mind, as he felt convinced I was wrong. He pointed out +to me that there was not what he called an iota of evidence connecting +Mrs. Lexton with the crime. In fact, I saw that I dropped very very +much in his estimation as a sensible woman when I told him of my more +than suspicion, of my absolute conviction, that Mrs. Lexton had had +some all-powerful motive for wishing her husband dead.” +</p> + +<p> +“Surely we can discover what that was?” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Gretorex shook her head. “She certainly did not wish to marry +Roger—of that I feel quite sure. I hoped against hope that something +might come out while Sir Joseph Molloy cross-examined her. But, of +course, nothing did come out, and it is my conviction, Enid, that +nothing ever will.” +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +That same day the fact that Roger Gretorex had made up his mind not to +appeal appeared in the late editions of the evening papers. “It will +only prolong the agony for my mother,” he had said to Mr. Oram. “And +as for me, I am sufficiently a coward to long for it to be all over.” +</p> + +<p> +And so they all—those who loved Roger, and she who feared him, +together with the myriads of men and women who regarded him as a +callous murderer, and who hoped that he would finally confess his +crime—waited for the end. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch19"> +Chapter Nineteen +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">And now</span> there were but two days—to be accurate, but two nights—to +the date fixed for Roger Gretorex’s execution. All those to whom the +matter was of grave moment had given up hope, and, to the great relief +of each member of what may be described as the outside circle of those +concerned in the still mysterious story, there was something stoic in +the resignation and self-control of both the mother and the son. +</p> + +<p> +But Enid Dent showed many signs of the strain and agony she was +enduring, and Sir Joseph Molloy felt quite unlike his powerful, jovial +self. Even against his better judgment he still felt convinced that an +awful miscarriage of justice was going to be enacted. His conviction +actually affected the nerves of Sir Edward Law, the Home Secretary, +who happened, unfortunately for himself, to be one of Sir Joseph’s +oldest friends. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Edward hoped most fervently that Gretorex would make a last-moment +confession. Not that the Home Secretary really doubted the fact of the +young man’s guilt. But he felt the kind of anxiety which must possess +any sensitive, conscientious human being who has the onerous gift of +life in his hand, if he knows that the mind of a friend he trusts as +deeply as he did trust Sir Joseph’s powerful mind, is convinced of a +condemned man’s innocence. +</p> + +<p> +The execution had been fixed for a Thursday. Deliberately Sir Joseph +arranged to cross to Calais on the Wednesday in order to meet his +wife, who was coming back the next day from the south of France. +</p> + +<p> +Though Lady Molloy was an invalid, a tiny, fragile little body, and no +longer young, her husband adored her, and when he was parted from “the +woman who owned him,” as he sometimes oddly expressed it, he seemed at +times only half himself. His Eileen, so he told himself now, would +know how to heal the ache at his heart. +</p> + +<p> +For one thing, Lady Molloy was deeply religious in a happy childlike +way. Heaven seemed to her a beautiful place, just hard by, and so she +would naturally view Roger Gretorex’s terrible mode of exit from life +as the certain gateway to a happier existence than he could have hoped +for on this earth. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +“The day after to-morrow—the day after to-morrow.” +</p> + +<p> +Those four words seemed to beat themselves on Enid Dent’s brain. +Sometimes would come a variant—“What can be done, surely something +can be done, before the day after to-morrow?” +</p> + +<p> +Early on the Tuesday morning she wandered out of doors and walked for +miles in the cold, still empty streets. At last she went into +Westminster Abbey for a while, and then into the vast Catholic +Cathedral. But she found she could not pray. She felt as if abandoned +by God, as well as by man. +</p> + +<p> +Reluctantly, she at last turned her feet towards Ebury Street. She +shrank from seeing Mrs. Gretorex. To Enid there was something horribly +unnatural in the calmness and appearance of strength shown by Roger’s +mother. It was, as the girl knew, by Roger’s plainly expressed desire +that they were going home to-morrow down to Sussex. By his wish, also, +they would be in the parish church, which was actually an enclave in +the grounds attached to what was still his house, when nine o’clock +struck out his hour of doom on Thursday. +</p> + +<p> +As Enid came in to their sitting-room Mrs. Gretorex held out an open +letter. +</p> + +<p> +“This has just reached me—sent on from Mr. Oram’s office this +morning. It’s from the old woman who used to look after Roger.” And as +the other took it from her, “Rather a touching letter, but I don’t +feel I can bring myself to go to Ferry Place, my dear. I went there +once, and spent such a happy, happy day with Roger. This Mrs. Huntley +waited on us. Perhaps you will go instead of me? See what she says.” +</p> + +<p> +Enid took the letter, and this is what she read: +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="rt1"> +<span class="sc">6 Ferry Place</span>.<br> +<i>Tuesday.</i> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Dear Madam</span>, +</p> + +<p> +I don’t know what to do about the doctor’s things, and I should be +glad if you could spare time to come here. Also there is something on +my mind that I’d like to tell you, Mrs. Gretorex. But I gave my word, +I even swore my oath to the doctor not to. So perhaps I oughtn’t to. +</p> + +<p> +I’ve tried to keep everything tidy, but the police pulled everything +about so. +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +Yours respectfully,<br> +<span class="sc">Bertha Huntley</span>. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +“I wonder what she wants to tell you?” +</p> + +<p> +“I can form a shrewd guess,” said Mrs. Gretorex in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +The girl looked at her with eager eyes. “It may be something +tremendously important,” she exclaimed. +</p> + +<p> +The older woman shook her head. +</p> + +<p> +“It might have had a certain importance before the trial, but it would +have no importance now. I have no doubt that what Mrs. Huntley wants +to tell me is——” +</p> + +<p> +Then she hesitated, for Mrs. Gretorex was an old-fashioned +gentlewoman, who considered that certain things which unfortunately do +happen in life should not be dwelt on, much less mentioned, by “nice” +women. +</p> + +<p> +“What do you mean, Mrs. Gretorex? Do tell me!” +</p> + +<p> +The girl was looking at her with perplexed, unhappy eyes. Perhaps, +after all, it would be better to tell her the truth? It might cause +her to forget Roger more quickly than she could otherwise do. +</p> + +<p> +“I have very little doubt, Enid, that Mrs. Lexton, at one time, often +went to Ferry Place. Naturally Roger bound the old woman to silence. +He may have even made her swear that she would never reveal a fact so +damaging to Ivy Lexton’s reputation. I don’t know if a knowledge of +what I feel sure was the truth would have made any difference, one way +or the other, at the trial. In any case, it won’t make any difference +now.” +</p> + +<p> +“May I go off to Ferry Place now?” asked Enid eagerly. +</p> + +<p> +“Do, if you like. But be careful what you say, child.” She gazed into +the girl’s flushed face. “I think we ought to do what we know Roger +would wish us to do—and not to do.” +</p> + +<p> +And then, with a slight break in her even voice, she quoted the fine +line—“For silence is most noble to the end.” +</p> + +<p class="mt1"> +As Enid Dent walked with what, to one passing her, would have appeared +to be the happy, eager steps of youth towards Ferry Place, she more +than once felt strongly inclined to turn back. +</p> + +<p> +The thought of going to the house where Roger Gretorex had lived and +worked during the months when he and she had become so entirely +estranged was bitter to her. Also, she now had to endure the incessant +talking and the kindly meant, but to her almost intolerable, sympathy +of the landlady of Mrs. Gretorex’s lodgings. The thought that she +would now endure more sympathy, and more garrulous talk, on the part +of Mrs. Huntley was well nigh unendurable. Why not go back and write a +nice letter to the old woman, explaining that Mrs. Gretorex was ill, +but wished Mrs. Huntley to know how deep was her gratitude for +everything she had done for her dear son? +</p> + +<p> +And then, just as she was going to turn around, Enid felt ashamed of +her strained nerves. If this old woman had been fond of Roger, then +she must be very unhappy now. +</p> + +<p> +She had to ask the way twice to Ferry Place, and each time she asked +the question she saw a peculiar look come over the stranger’s face, +showing, plainly enough, that he had recalled the fact that this was +where Roger Gretorex had lived, the man who had committed murder for +the sake of the woman he loved. The name of the obscure thoroughfare +had been constantly mentioned, bandied to and fro, during Gretorex’s +trial. +</p> + +<p> +Enid soon found the double row of shabby little houses. It was strange +to remember that Roger had lived for over a year in this +sordid-looking place. +</p> + +<p> +She walked slowly down the middle of the roadway till she reached No. +6. It looked just a little cleaner and “better class” than the houses +on each side of it. +</p> + +<p> +She knocked, and the door was opened almost at once, revealing a +grey-haired, sad-faced old woman, who, before the visitor could speak, +said sharply, “You’ve made a mistake. No one lives here now.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve come from Mrs. Gretorex,” said Enid in a low voice. +</p> + +<p> +And then the door, which had been nearly closed in her face, was +opened widely. +</p> + +<p> +“Come in, miss. Come in, do!” and the old woman opened a door to the +left, and showed the visitor into what had been Roger Gretorex’s +consulting-room. It was bare and poor-looking, but the girl, with a +stab of pain, saw at once a small piece of furniture which had always +stood in what was still called “the day nursery” at Anchorford Hall. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Gretorex is ill, or she would have come herself. But she has +given me a message for you, Mrs. Huntley. She wishes me to tell you +how grateful—how grateful——” +</p> + +<p> +And then all at once Enid Dent broke down, and burst into a storm of +tears. +</p> + +<p> +She had not so “let herself go,” at any rate not in the day-time, +since the end of Roger Gretorex’s trial. But somehow now, with this +stranger, she didn’t care. It was such a comfort to have a good cry, +and something seemed to tell her that this sad, anxious-looking old +woman would understand, and sympathise with, her grief. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Huntley pushed the sobbing girl gently down into the worn leather +arm-chair in which Gretorex would sometimes put a delicate-looking +woman patient—the sort of patient who did not care to go into the +surgery. +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose,” said Mrs. Huntley in a troubled voice, “that you was the +doctor’s young lady, miss?” +</p> + +<p> +It somehow comforted Enid to hear those simple words, uttered in so +quiet, if pitying a tone. +</p> + +<p> +“I think I was,” she sobbed. “Indeed, I am sure I was—though that was +a long time ago, Mrs. Huntley.” +</p> + +<p> +“I know,” came the low-toned answer. And the old woman did know, +perhaps better than anyone else in the world, why Roger Gretorex had +left off thinking of the girl who now sat, the picture of despair, +before her. +</p> + +<p> +Enid suddenly got up. She dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” she said, “let me deliver the rest of my message, Mrs. +Huntley. Mrs. Gretorex knows how good you were to her son, and she +wants me to tell you that a little later on she would like you to come +down to Anchorford, for she does want to see you.” +</p> + +<p> +“Later on?” echoed the old woman in a strange voice. “But that would +be too late, miss. I has to see Mrs. Gretorex to-day for it to be of +any good. Can’t you take me to her? Not that I likes to leave the +house alone. I never do leave it—not since I got the message from Mr. +Oram that I was to regard myself as caretaker, that is.” +</p> + +<p> +“I am afraid you can’t see Mrs. Gretorex to-day,” said Enid firmly. +“But I’ll give her any message, and—and you can trust me, Mrs. +Huntley, you really can!” +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder if I can? I wonder if I dare?” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you anything to say that we don’t already know?” she asked. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I have, miss. But in telling it I may be doing wrong.” +</p> + +<p> +“D’you mean something about Dr. Gretorex? Something that might, even +now, make a difference?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know. I can’t tell. I fear me it may be too late.” +</p> + +<p> +“Let me judge of that,” said Enid Dent. +</p> + +<p> +She had become quiet, collected, though she was filled with a feeling +of suspense and, she dared not call it “hope.” +</p> + +<p> +“Shall I tell you?” said Mrs. Huntley as if asking herself the +question. And then, all at once, she answered it, “Yes, surely I +will!” +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +Alfred Finch was reading a copy of an old complicated will. But though +he was trying to concentrate on the business in hand, he found his +mind straying persistently to the prison cell where Roger Gretorex sat +waiting for the morning of the day after to-morrow. For one thing, he +had heard by a side wind that the warder who had Gretorex in his +special charge believed him innocent, and this made a great impression +on him. That warder had had charge of over thirty men condemned to +death, and this was the first time he had ever believed one of them to +have been innocent of the crime for which he was to suffer death. +</p> + +<p> +The telephone bell at his elbow rang. +</p> + +<p> +“Miss Dent is on the line, Mr. Finch. Can you speak to her? She says +it’s very urgent.” +</p> + +<p> +“Put her through at once.” +</p> + +<p> +And then he heard an eager, quivering voice, “Is that Mr. Finch? Can +you come at once, Mr. Finch, to 6 Ferry Place? I believe I’ve got some +new evidence.” +</p> + +<p> +“New evidence?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Finch, though he was alone, shook his head. Had he not himself +done everything that was in the power of mortal man to procure new +evidence in the last three weeks, and had he not entirely failed? +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t wish to say more over the telephone, but can you come now, at +once, to take a statement from Dr. Gretorex’s day maid, Mrs. Huntley?” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Huntley? Why, that was the old caretaker woman! He remembered +distinctly reading over the record of her short, colourless, +unimportant interview with Inspector Orpington. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Huntley could have nothing new to say of the slightest value. +Stop, though—she probably knew certain facts which might have been +regarded as greatly to Mrs. Lexton’s discredit, had they come out at +the trial. Facts which would certainly have added pungency to Sir +Joseph Molloy’s speech for the defence. But Mrs. Huntley could have +nothing to reveal that could make any real difference, now, to the +fate of Roger Gretorex. +</p> + +<p> +However, if only because he had come to like and respect Mrs. +Gretorex’s young friend, Mr. Finch made up his mind he would do what +Enid Dent desired. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ll be with you within twenty minutes,” he called out. +</p> + +<p> +“Be as quick as you can. I’m so frightened, Mr. Finch.” +</p> + +<p> +“Frightened?” he repeated, surprised. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes.” The voice dropped. “Supposing Mrs. Huntley were to die, +suddenly, before you’ve heard what she’s got to say? I dare not tell +you what it is over the telephone. But it is very important——” +</p> + +<p> +Now Mr. Finch thought so little of what he was going to do, and, +presumably, hear, that he simply left word for Mr. Oram that he had +had to go out. And when he reached Westminster, he did not dismiss his +taxicab; he left it at the end of Ferry Place. +</p> + +<p> +Enid Dent stood waiting for him at the open door of the little house, +and he noted at once the strained, excited look on her face. +</p> + +<p> +Had she been a young man, and not a young woman, Alfred Finch would +have exclaimed, “Come, come! What’s all this pother about?” But as it +was, he looked at her very kindly, and made up his mind that he would +“let her down” as gently as might be. +</p> + +<p> +“I hope she’ll tell you all she told me,” murmured Enid as he shut the +door. “Mrs. Lexton told a lie when she said she had never been here +but once, and then with a woman friend. Mrs. Huntley swore to Roger +Gretorex that she would say nothing about that, and she feels that she +is breaking her oath. But I doubt if she realises herself the fearful +importance of something else she told me, something Roger may suspect, +but which only she actually saw.” +</p> + +<p> +And then she opened the door of the consulting-room. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Huntley was sitting all in a heap in a chair, staring before her. +She looked up when the two came in, but she did not get up. +</p> + +<p> +“Here is Mr. Finch. I want you to tell him exactly what you told me.” +</p> + +<p> +“You tell him, miss,” muttered the old woman. “I’ve told you +everything and—and I feels very upset.” +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Huntley is ready to swear,” said Enid quietly, “that she once +found Mrs. Lexton alone in the surgery here, with a jar labelled +arsenic standing on the table before her.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred Finch, startled, looked hard at the old woman. Was she telling +the truth, or had she invented this ingenious story? +</p> + +<p> +“When did that happen?” he asked quietly. “Is there any way in which +you can fix the date of that occurrence, Mrs. Huntley?” +</p> + +<p> +She looked up at him. “Yes,” she said dully. “ ’Twas the last time Mrs. +Lexton ever had supper here. The doctor got a messenger boy, and sent +him up to a grand shop in Piccadilly for some cold fish—sole, I +thinks it was—done up in a newfangled fashion. Also there was a game +pie, likewise an ice.” +</p> + +<p> +“But how does that fix the date in your mind?” asked Alfred Finch +rather impatiently. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t fix it. But you could, sir, from the messenger boys’ office. +I heard one of them boys once tell the doctor that they kep’ all their +receipts. ’Twas early last summer when that happened.” +</p> + +<p> +He felt suddenly convinced that she at least believed she was telling +the truth. +</p> + +<p> +“The last time Mrs. Lexton had supper here?” It was that statement +which in a sense impressed him. And had he been another kind of man he +would undoubtedly have explained, “But you yourself signed a statement +declaring that Mrs. Lexton had never been here, at 6 Ferry Place, +excepting on one occasion to tea?” +</p> + +<p> +But, instead of saying that, he observed encouragingly, “Now listen to +me, Mrs. Huntley. You say, I notice, ‘the last time.’ Would Mrs. +Lexton have been here to supper as many, say, as three or four times?” +</p> + +<p> +“Much oftener than that!” exclaimed the old woman, rousing herself. +“At one time, Mrs. Lexton was here constant. She’d come in just for +ten minutes. ’Nother time, maybe, for a couple of hours. She’d ’phone +first, to see if the doctor’ud be in. Mostly I couldn’t help knowing +about it, though the doctor always made an excuse to get me out of the +place before she come.” +</p> + +<p> +“And on that last occasion, what exactly was it that happened? Are you +sure this jar of arsenic was on the table, in front of Mrs. Lexton?” +</p> + +<p> +In his eagerness he came and flung himself across a chair, close to +the old woman. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sure ’twas there, though I don’t know how it come there, +excepting that the doctor had maybe some medicine to make up. I come +in to clear up, and as I puts my key in the surgery door—that’s our +back-way in, sir—she didn’t hear me. When she did, she was awfully +put about. I begged her pardon, and I went away. And when I come round +to the front of the house, I saw the doctor letting a man out. That +was why Mrs. Lexton was alone, then, in the surgery. She was waiting +for the doctor, maybe to get her a cab. He often did that.” +</p> + +<p> +“I suppose you can give me nothing that would afford any corroboration +as to what you have just told me? I mean that would make anyone know +that you are now telling the truth? <i>I</i> believe you, Mrs. Huntley, but +you know that, in a matter of this sort, belief doesn’t go very far. +People want proof.” +</p> + +<p> +“I knows that. But I can’t say no more than I have said.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is there nothing? Think, Mrs. Huntley!” exclaimed Enid Dent. “Did you +never tell anyone outside that you’d found Mrs. Lexton in the surgery +under such curious circumstances?” +</p> + +<p> +“I give the doctor my word I’d never tell on either of them. He said I +could do a great thing for him in doing that, and I’ve kep’ my word +till to-day.” +</p> + +<p> +And then Alfred Finch had something like an inspiration. +</p> + +<p> +“Of course, I know the police made a thorough search of this house,” +he observed. “But I ask myself, Mrs. Huntley, if they overlooked +anything—<i>anything in the way of a letter or letters?</i>” And he looked +very hard at the old woman. +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Huntley blinked at him, and for the first time she looked uneasy +and ashamed. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got summat,” she said in a low reluctant voice. “Summat I’ve no +business to have. It’s two love-letters Mrs. Lexton wrote to the +doctor. As was his way, poor young gentleman, he tore them up in +little pieces, and——” +</p> + +<p> +“You pieced them together,” observed Mr. Finch pleasantly. +</p> + +<p> +Enid Dent gave a gasp, as he went on: +</p> + +<p> +“If you can produce those letters, I think I can promise you, Mrs. +Huntley, that Dr. Gretorex will not hang the day after to-morrow. +They, together with a sworn statement made by you before a +Commissioner of Oaths, will provide what is called ‘new evidence.’ I +want you to go with me now into the surgery, to tell me exactly where +Mrs. Lexton was standing when you surprised her. You are sure that she +was alone?” he added quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“She was quite alone,” said Mrs. Huntley positively. “I come in softly +like, and there she was! I can show you exactly where she was +standing.” +</p> + +<p> +She got up and led the way down the passage, and through the two doors +which shut off the surgery from the house. +</p> + +<p> +“Is everything here just as it was?” asked Mr. Finch quickly. +</p> + +<p> +“No, sir. They took away everything as was in that cupboard, but they +left the books.” +</p> + +<p> +He glanced up at the row of shabby volumes in the hanging bookcase, +but made no comment. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that the same table where stood the jar labelled arsenic?” +</p> + +<p> +Mrs. Huntley put her work-worn hand on a certain spot on the deal +table. +</p> + +<p> +“The jar was here; the light was full on it, and I saw it plain as +plain.” +</p> + +<p> +And then she acted, or, rather, enacted, the scene with some spirit, +making Enid Dent stand exactly where Ivy Lexton had stood. +</p> + +<p> +“I noticed particular how she was dressed,” she went on eagerly. “She +always dressed very dainty-like, lovely clothes they was! And she had +the most peculiar looking bag I ever did see. ’Twas exactly like +mother-of-pearl. Lovely it was! I noticed it when she turned round. +Says she, ‘Why, Mrs. Huntley, how you did startle me,’ or something +like that, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +Alfred Finch was writing down every word that came out of her mouth. +He was one of those men who never lose a chance, and he had invented a +kind of shorthand for himself. Everything the woman had said since he +had come into the room had been put on record by him. +</p> + +<p> +“And now,” he said quietly, “I’ll trouble you to show me those two +letters.” +</p> + +<p> +Finch noticed that Mrs. Huntley gave just an imperceptible glance +towards the girl who stood a little aside, gazing into vacancy, as if +her thoughts were far away, as indeed they were—with Roger Gretorex +in his prison cell. +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, sir, I’ll go and get the letters, but I do hope Dr. Gretorex +won’t ever know I did such a thing as that, sir? I was very attached +to the doctor, and that made me feel curious, I suppose. I oughtn’t to +have acted so, sir; I knew I was doing wrong.” +</p> + +<p> +“All I can say now is, thank God you did do wrong, Mrs. Huntley! But +don’t you worry—we won’t let him ever know you did what you did. +After all, anyone who found those pieces might have put them together, +eh? Why people don’t burn compromising documents always beats me! I’ve +got a cab at the end of the street, and I want you to come along this +very minute to a Commissioner of Oaths. I’ve got all you’ve told me in +black and white. You’ll only have just to repeat word for word what +I’ve got down here before the gentleman, and then swear it’s true.” +</p> + +<p> +“But do you think I ought to leave the house, sir?” +</p> + +<p> +“We can leave Miss Dent here, while I go on to your place to get those +letters.” +</p> + +<p> +When, within a quarter of an hour, the three were standing outside the +queer little office of a Commissioner of Oaths, with whom Alfred Finch +happened to be acquainted, Mr. Finch said something which surprised +Enid Dent. “I think you’d better not come in here with us,” he +muttered. “You see, it’s better, in such a case, to have the witness +alone. Prevents her being nervous.” +</p> + +<p> +She did not guess the truth, which was that, in the few minutes he had +been away with the old woman, she had spoken more freely than she had +cared to do before the girl whom she regarded as Gretorex’s “young +lady.” And some of the things she had then told him Alfred Finch +determined should be embodied in her statutory declaration. Mr. Finch +was keenly alive to the value of prejudice. He was aware that the Home +Secretary was a man of rigid, some would have said too rigid, moral +principle. +</p> + +<p> +So it was with considerable satisfaction that he had exclaimed, after +reading through the two letters, “My word! Mrs. Lexton’s what <i>I</i> call +a hot cup of tea. Eh? Mrs. Huntley?” +</p> + +<p> +Solemnly she had nodded her head. She had always known that such was +the fact, though she wouldn’t perhaps have put it in just those words, +for she was a refined, delicate-natured old woman. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch20"> +Chapter Twenty +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">The morning after</span> these events had taken place, the Home Secretary, +Sir Edward Law, was moving about his fine room in Whitehall. He felt +restless and thoroughly ill at ease, and that, although he was a +statesman noted for his calm and cool temperament. +</p> + +<p> +Within a few moments from now he expected his door to open and three +persons to be shown in. First there would be a solicitor named John +Oram, whose name he vaguely knew as that of a man of the highest +standing in his profession, and who, the year before, had been +President of the Law Society. Mr. Oram was the legal adviser of Roger +Gretorex, a man convicted of murder, whose execution had been fixed to +take place the following morning at nine o’clock. Then Sir Joseph +Molloy, the most famous advocate of the day, known by the cynically +minded as “the murderer’s friend,” who had defended Roger Gretorex at +the Old Bailey would accompany Mr. Oram, though his presence could not +be regarded as being quite in order. However, Sir Joseph was a very +old friend of the Home Secretary, and he had pleaded urgently to be +allowed to come this morning. The Judge, Mr. Justice Mayhew, who had +tried Roger Gretorex, was the third visitor expected, his presence at +the forthcoming conference being, very properly, regarded as +essential. +</p> + +<p> +An odd thing had happened only the previous day in connection with +this Gretorex case. Sir Edward Law had received an envelope, marked +“Private,” and containing a letter signed “Roger Gretorex.” With it, a +plain piece of paper bore the following words: “The enclosed was +written to Mrs. Lexton only last November, after the beginning of +Jervis Lexton’s illness. It reads like the letter of an innocent man.” +</p> + +<p> +That touching, in its way noble, love-letter had much impressed him, +and had added a note of real mystery to a story with all the details +of which he was by now painfully familiar. +</p> + +<p> +At last Sir Edward stopped in front of his writing-table. There, in a +place by themselves, stood five white cards. Each was marked with a +name and a date; and they formed a perpetual reminder that four men +and one woman were now lying under sentence of death. For the date on +each of those death-cards was the day on which the person named was to +suffer the last penalty of the law. +</p> + +<p> +The Home Secretary’s eyes became fixed on the card bearing the name of +Roger Gretorex, the young man of gentle birth who had been sentenced +to death at the Old Bailey for the murder of one Jervis Lexton. And, +as he gazed at the rather unusual name, the Minister, in whose hands +the fate of these men and one woman still reposed, asked himself, with +a tightening of the heart, whether Sir Joseph Molloy might not be +right after all in his belief that there had been a grave miscarriage +of justice. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Edward Law was a man with a high sense of duty. At first he had +naturally accepted the verdict at the trial as conclusive of +Gretorex’s guilt, and he had daily expected to hear the news that +there had been a full confession, especially after he learnt that the +condemned man had refused to enter an appeal. But he had been +unwillingly impressed by Sir Joseph Molloy’s strong conviction of his +client’s innocence, and now he understood that certain extraordinary +new evidence was to be laid before him this morning, at what was +indeed the eleventh hour. +</p> + +<p> +That was why, as late as the day before, the Home Secretary had +conscientiously read once more all the documents, and they were many, +connected with what had been called “The Lexton Mystery.” He had felt +it to be his plain duty thus to prepare himself for the critical +examination which it would be his business to apply to this new +evidence. +</p> + +<p> +And yet? And yet, he could not imagine what new evidence could +possibly be adduced of a nature strong enough to upset the apparently +conclusive case built up against Roger Gretorex at the trial. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +The door opened, and Sir Edward’s principal private secretary came in. +</p> + +<p> +“Sir Joseph Molloy to see you, sir, by appointment. And there is +another man with him.” +</p> + +<p> +Thus announced, Sir Joseph Molloy, who was followed by Alfred Finch, +entered the room and, after greeting his old friend, the Home +Secretary, came at once to business. +</p> + +<p> +“Mr. Oram is unfortunately ill, so I have ventured to bring in his +stead his head clerk, Mr. Finch, who has had all the threads of the +Gretorex case in his hands. Indeed, it is to Mr. Finch that I believe +we owe the proof of a fearful miscarriage of justice. I hope he will +be able to convince you, Sir Edward, of the innocence of his most +unfortunate client, Roger Gretorex. ‘Murder, though it hath no tongue, +will speak!’ ” added Sir Joseph in a dramatic tone. +</p> + +<p> +The Home Secretary slightly raised his eyebrows. Sir Joseph was going +just a little bit too fast, as he sometimes did, especially when he +had any kind of audience. But the famous advocate realised that he was +not going quite the right way to work, for quickly he changed his +tone: +</p> + +<p> +“I think, Sir Edward, that after you have seen the statutory +declaration made by a certain person who was closely connected with +Gretorex’s London life, as well as other new evidence which Mr. Finch +is about to lay before you, you will agree that there is a strong case +for, at any rate, the postponement of Roger Gretorex’s execution.” +</p> + +<p> +And then the door of the room opened again, and the Judge who had +tried the Lexton case came in. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Justice Mayhew appeared outwardly his usual calm and dignified +self. But within he was full of interest, and even a certain +excitement. Unlike the Home Secretary, he thought nothing of Sir +Joseph Molloy’s belief in his client’s innocence; what had profoundly +impressed him had been the condemned man’s refusal to appeal. +</p> + +<p> +A few moments later the three men—for Alfred Finch was standing a +little aside, he had done his part and he knew the documents which he +had brought with him almost by heart—were gazing with intense +curiosity at Mrs. Huntley’s statutory declaration. Each, in turn, read +the pasted-up fragments of Ivy Lexton’s two passionate love-letters. +They belonged to an early period of her friendship with Roger +Gretorex, and each letter proposed a meeting at Ferry Place. On each +occasion she had chosen an evening, or rather a night, when her +husband was to be with an old friend who had a fishing place some way +from London. +</p> + +<p> +And then the Home Secretary took out of a drawer, and handed to the +Judge, Gretorex’s own piteous letter to Ivy Lexton, the letter which +had remained so long hidden in Mrs. Berwick’s desk. +</p> + +<p> +It took quite a little while for Sir Edward Law and Mr. Justice Mayhew +to make themselves fully acquainted with what had been laid before +them. And then they looked at one another in silence for a moment. As +for Sir Joseph, he wisely said nothing, though he was longing +intensely to express something of the triumph and exultation which +filled his heart. +</p> + +<p> +“I read a full report of the case over again yesterday,” said the Home +Secretary. “There seemed to me, then, no doubt as to the guilt of +Roger Gretorex. But this Mrs. Huntley’s report of what she swears she +saw the very day before, it is now ascertained, Jervis Lexton had his +first attack of illness, does, I admit, entirely alter the complexion +of everything. But I should not have attached very great importance to +a statement which rests on the word of one person, who, if she tells +the truth now, certainly lied before, had we not also these three +letters. They prove that Mrs. Lexton has committed gross perjury.” +</p> + +<p> +As the two men he was addressing remained silent, he went on: “I +suppose the police made a thorough search of the flat in which Jervis +Lexton met his death?” +</p> + +<p> +And then all at once Alfred Finch took a hand. +</p> + +<p> +“No, Sir Edward, the flat was not searched,” he answered +deferentially. +</p> + +<p> +“Are you sure of that?” +</p> + +<p> +“Quite sure. It is not usual to institute a search unless there is +cause for suspicion against a person actually living in the house or +flat where the murder has been committed. Now, the first C.I.D. man, +who was in charge of the preliminary inquiries, undoubtedly formed the +definite opinion that Roger Gretorex had poisoned Jervis Lexton. From +his point of view there was no need to go further, the more so as his +view was confirmed by a conversation he had with Gretorex just after +he had taken a statement from Mrs. Lexton. The inspector, a day or two +later on, interviewed Mrs. Huntley. You have that first statement of +hers, gentlemen, in that bundle of papers I have laid down over there, +marked ‘I.’ Mrs. Huntley then perjured herself, apparently because she +had made a solemn promise to Dr. Gretorex to reveal nothing as to his +association with Mrs. Lexton. She was, of course, quite unaware, at +the time, of the fearful injury she was doing her employer.” +</p> + +<p> +The Home Secretary opened the bundle marked “I.” He read through first +the notes which Inspector Orpington had made during his first +interview with Ivy Lexton—that interview during which she had gone +out of her way to volunteer the fact that Roger Gretorex entertained +for her a hopeless, unrequited passion. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Edward next read most carefully again Mrs. Lexton’s two letters to +Gretorex, as well as the letter which had reached him anonymously only +yesterday. +</p> + +<p> +“This Mrs. Lexton appears to be, in any case, a most hypocritical and +abandoned woman,” he observed tartly. +</p> + +<p> +Sir Joseph Molloy laughed a merry, hearty, boyish laugh, and Mr. +Justice Mayhew looked round at him with an expression of shocked +disgust on his stern face. +</p> + +<p> +But “divil a bit,” as he said to himself, did Sir Joseph care for +that. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you agree,” said Sir Edward Law, looking at the Judge, “that these +various documents provide sufficient reason for further inquiries?” +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Justice Mayhew waited for what seemed a very long time, both to +Sir Joseph and to Alfred Finch. Then reluctantly he answered: +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I think we have certainly cause here for the execution to be +postponed, and for further inquiries to be made.” +</p> + +<p> +“Now that we are on what I may term the right track,” exclaimed Sir +Joseph, “I trust that my unhappy friend Roger Gretorex will not be +allowed to languish in the cell of a condemned felon a moment longer +than is absolutely necessary?” +</p> + +<p> +The great advocate felt that he had now done all he could, and he was +well aware that he had only been admitted to this conference by +favour. And so, after a word of thanks to his old friend, and a sly +look of triumph at the Judge, he went away, taking Alfred Finch with +him, and leaving the Home Secretary and Mr. Justice Mayhew alone +together. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +Inspector Orpington looked not only serious but also very grim, as, +early that afternoon, and accompanied by the same colleague as had +been with him here before, he rang the bell of Mrs. Lexton’s flat. +</p> + +<p> +He felt extremely incensed for, turn the facts round in his mind as he +might, there was no doubt that the childishly simple-looking, lovely +little woman had completely taken him in. She had certainly, as he put +it to himself, bamboozled him to the top of her bent. +</p> + +<p> +Yet, even now, he found it almost impossible to believe that Ivy +Lexton had poisoned her husband. Even so, he had been very much +startled and impressed, not so much by Mrs. Huntley’s new statement, +for he knew her to be a liar. No, what had astounded him had been +Ivy’s letters to Roger Gretorex. Though these two letters had been +written at a time when the writer was passionately in love with her +correspondent, they revealed quite a different type of woman from what +everyone connected with the case had taken her to be. +</p> + +<p> +Inspector Orpington had also been unwillingly impressed by the letter +written by Gretorex to Ivy in evident answer to one in which she had +begged him to leave off coming to see her. The date, that of November +the 6th, inscribed on Gretorex’s letter, proved that she had written +the note to which it had been the answer after she had started her +cruel work of poisoning her husband, if indeed she had poisoned her +husband. The inspector realised that the letter was what might have +been called a bull point in the writer’s favour. It breathed sincerity +in every line. +</p> + +<p> +It seemed a long time, to the two men standing there, before the door +of the flat was opened by the cook. She looked surprised when she saw +the inspector standing there, and then she smiled amiably. +</p> + +<p> +“Want to see Mrs. Lexton?” she inquired. And, as he nodded, “Then want +will be your master! She’s away in the country, and not coming back +yet awhile.” +</p> + +<p> +Orpington had already walked through into the hall. +</p> + +<p> +“All alone in the flat?” he asked casually. +</p> + +<p> +“I am this minute. There don’t seem any reason for keeping a young +girl here all day just to do nothing,” said the woman tolerantly. “She +works pretty hard when Mrs. Lexton is at home, that I will say.” +</p> + +<p> +“Where is Mrs. Lexton staying?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got it down on a bit of paper. It’s near Brighton. A place +belonging to the Lady Flora something or other. I’ll go and get it.” +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a sec. We’ve come on what isn’t a very pleasant job, cook. We’ve +got to search this place of yours.” +</p> + +<p> +“Search this place?” Cook looked taken aback. “Whatever for?” +</p> + +<p> +As no answer was vouchsafed to that question, “I’ll just go and tidy +my room then,” she exclaimed. “I’ve been taking things easy since Mrs. +Lexton went away. Where will you begin? How about the dining-room just +here?” +</p> + +<p> +“All right. We’ll begin with the dining-room, and work down towards +the kitchen.” +</p> + +<p> +He added in a perfunctory tone, “No need to tell you to hide nothing, +eh, cook?” +</p> + +<p> +“There’s nothing to hide!” she exclaimed with some heat. “Everything’s +always left open. Mrs. Lexton isn’t a lady to lock up her jewellery, +like some do. She trusts us, and we are worthy of the trust, same as +everyone is who is trusted.” +</p> + +<p> +“If that’s so ’twill make our job easy. Then there’s no lock-up at +all?” and he looked at her rather hard. +</p> + +<p> +“I keeps my box locked up, but you’re welcome to the key!” +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t you be afraid. We’ll let your box alone. I meant, is there no +lock-up this end of the flat?” +</p> + +<p> +She waited a moment. “There’s half the big hanging cupboard in Mrs. +Lexton’s bedroom always kept locked, just because there’s nothing in +it. She keeps all her fine clothes—my, and she has got a lot, fit to +stock a shop with!—in a little room that no one uses, next door to +the bathroom.” +</p> + +<p> +“Have you got the key of that part of the hanging cupboard?” +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve never even seen it. But I expect it’s about somewhere. Maybe in +the dressing-table drawer.” +</p> + +<p> +It takes a long time to search a room thoroughly, and by the time the +two men had done with the dining-room and the drawing-room, they felt +tired. +</p> + +<p> +“Perhaps we’d better do Mrs. Lexton’s room next? Not that I expect to +find anything there. The room in which that poor chap died was +searched, and thoroughly too, though not till after the post-mortem.” +</p> + +<p> +Cook brought the bit of paper on which Ivy had written down her +country address. Then she went off again into her kitchen. +</p> + +<p> +The two men walked, in a rather gingerly way, into Ivy Lexton’s +charming bedroom. +</p> + +<p> +There the searchers had an easy task, for everything was unlocked, as +the cook had said it would be. +</p> + +<p> +But suddenly Orpington exclaimed, “Why, this must be the room where, +according to that good old soul, there’s a lock-up? I’d forgotten +that! It’s the half of this big cupboard. Seen any keys about?” +</p> + +<p> +The other shook his head. +</p> + +<p> +Orpington, stepping back, looked dubiously at the big handsome inlaid +piece of furniture. It was a fine bit of early Victorian cabinet work, +and had belonged to the mother of the Miss Rushworth whose room this +was. Though it was not in modern taste, Inspector Orpington thought it +a beautiful object. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder if we’ve any call to force this lock?” he muttered to +himself. “I wouldn’t like to hurt that cupboard in any way. It’s a +good piece——” +</p> + +<p> +“I bet you I can open it all right without doing it a bit of harm,” +said the other man confidently. +</p> + +<p> +He went up to the cupboard. Then he did something to the lock with a +bit of wire he happened to have in his pocket, and—the big door swung +open. +</p> + +<p> +Orpington came forward quickly. He peered into the mahogany-lined +cavity. It was empty, save for a shabby-looking red-leather +despatch-box, on which, so faded as to be practically indecipherable, +were embossed three gilt letters. +</p> + +<p> +“That’s a rummy looking thing! One wouldn’t expect Mrs. Lexton would +have such an object as this about,” and he lifted the despatch-box out +of the cupboard. +</p> + +<p> +It was surprisingly light. +</p> + +<p> +“I wonder if she kept Gretorex’s love-letters in there,” said the +other with a laugh. “If so, we may find something useful, eh?” +</p> + +<p> +Orpington shook the box. Though it was so light he could feel that +there was something in it which rolled about. +</p> + +<p> +“You won’t find it as easy to open this box as you did that cupboard,” +he observed, “but it has to be done.” +</p> + +<p> +“The only way we could open this,” said the sergeant, decidedly, +“would be with a kitchen knife, unless they’ve got a chisel.” +</p> + +<p> +“You go and get what you can from the old woman.” +</p> + +<p> +A minute or two later the man came back. “She’s in her room tidying +up,” he said with a grin, “so I just took this without saying ‘by your +leave.’ ” And he held up a short stout kitchen knife. +</p> + +<p> +“You just lock that door,” said Orpington quickly. +</p> + +<p> +And then, the two men, by exerting a great deal of strength, managed +to prize open the hinges of the old despatch-box which had belonged to +Ivy’s father. The lock stayed fast. +</p> + +<p> +The inspector felt a pang of disappointment, for there only lay on the +rubbed green velvet lining a lady’s fancy handbag. +</p> + +<p> +And then Orpington suddenly remembered Mrs. Huntley’s sworn statement. +In that statement was actually a description of the bag Ivy had had +with her when the old woman had found her alone in the surgery with +the jar of arsenic on the table before her. A bolster bag that “looked +like mother-of-pearl.” This was the same one without doubt. +</p> + +<p> +He took the odd little bag out of the despatch-box and pressed the +jewelled knob—to find nothing in it but a cable from South Africa. +The signature, “Rushworth,” meant nothing to him, though of course he +knew of the famous Rushworth Line. +</p> + +<p> +Then he opened the little white leather-lined, inner pocket of the +bag. It, too, was empty. A faint scent, that of a popular face powder, +rose from it. +</p> + +<p> +And then, suddenly, he noticed, with a queer quickening of his pulse, +that a few grains of what looked like kitchen salt clung to the white +leather sides. +</p> + +<p> +Moistening his finger, he put it against the leather, and a few grains +stuck on to his wet finger. Face powder? No, not face powder. He +touched his finger with his tongue, and then the colour rushed up all +over his face. +</p> + +<p> +“I’d like Sir Bernard to have a squint at that!” he exclaimed, holding +up the open bag. +</p> + +<p> +“D’you mean you’ve found something?” the other cried excitedly. +</p> + +<p> +“Hush!” +</p> + +<p> +Carefully Orpington put the rather absurd-looking mother-of-pearl +bolster into a big black bag which he had brought with him. Then he +put the empty despatch-box back into the cupboard. +</p> + +<p> +“Let’s get out of this,” he murmured, “before the old woman sees us. +Can you manage to shut the cupboard as cleverly as you opened it?” +</p> + +<p> +“I think I can,” said the other. And sure enough he did shut it, +though it took him longer to lock up the half of the great +early-Victorian cupboard than it had done to unlock it. +</p> + +<p> +Orpington took a card out of his notebook. He wrote on it: “We’ve seen +everything we wanted. Shan’t be troubling you any more,” and left it +in a prominent place on the hall table. +</p> + +<p> +Then he shut the front door rather loudly behind him, and, together, +the two men went down the stairs by the side of the lift. +</p> + +<p> +When they were safely out of the Duke of Kent Mansion, the inspector +stayed his steps. +</p> + +<p> +“I’ve got her!” he said exultingly. “Little Ivy will live to be sorry +she bamboozled ‘yours truly,’ my boy!” +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch21"> +Chapter Twenty-one +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">With a sudden cry</span> of fear Ivy Lexton sat up in the Jacobean +four-post bed, where she had spent a broken night. +</p> + +<p> +She was still plunged in sleep, but anyone standing, say, by the large +half-moon window of the delightful old-world country bedroom would +have thought her awake, for her violet-blue eyes were wide open and +dilated, as if with terror. +</p> + +<p> +How lovely she looked; how childlike was the pure, delicate contour of +her face, and the droop of her little red mouth. Her dimpled shoulders +rose from what she called a “nightie” of flesh-coloured crêpe de +Chine. The sleeveless bodice was edged with a deep band of real lace, +and, to the eyes of the old-fashioned maid who waited on her in this, +her friend’s, Lady Flora Desmond’s, country cottage, it looked more +like a ball-dress than a nightgown. +</p> + +<p> +There were tens of thousands of human beings who, had they been +privileged to see Ivy as she was now, this morning, would have felt +their hearts contract with intense pity for the woman they regarded as +having been the innocent victim of an extraordinary set of ironic +circumstances. There were also tens of thousands of other human beings +who, though they had had strong doubts as to the part she had played +in the singular story, would have told themselves that their +suspicions had been cruelly unjust, could they have looked into that +flower-like face, and heard the words now escaping from her +half-opened mouth. +</p> + +<p> +Those words were uttered in an appealing, broken tone, “Don’t hurt +him! Please don’t hurt him!” And then: “Oh, Roger, I am so sorry for +you!” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy’s soul was not here in this delightful country bedroom. It had +travelled a long long way, to a prison situated on the outskirts of +London. +</p> + +<p> +She seemed to be gazing through the door of a small, bare room, which +she knew to be now occupied by one on whom judgment of death was to be +executed that morning. +</p> + +<p> +There stood by the pallet bed the tall, sinewy figure of a man who had +loved her with a passionate and absorbing love, and whom she, in her +own fashion, had also loved. By his wish, at his trial, not a word +concerning what she had called their “friendship,” had been uttered in +extenuation of anything he, Roger Gretorex, had done, or left undone. +</p> + +<p> +There he stood, the man whose arms had so often cradled her, on whom +she had made the limitless demands that a woman only makes on the man +she loves. Never once, in great or in little things, had he failed +her. +</p> + +<p> +This morning he looked strange indeed, for though dressed, he was +collarless, and clad in an old tweed suit—a suit which Ivy remembered +well, and which she had once told him caressingly she liked to see him +wear. +</p> + +<p> +He held himself upright, with his head thrown back in what had been a +characteristic attitude. +</p> + +<p> +In Ivy’s vision two men were pinioning Roger’s arms, and it was to +them that, living through this terrible nightmare, she had just +addressed her piteous plea. And then with slow steps the chaplain, +together with the governor of the prison, walked in.… +</p> + +<p> +It was all happening exactly as Ivy had once seen something happen, in +what had then appeared to her just a thrilling scene in a play, in +London about a year ago. +</p> + +<p> +And now Roger left the cell and began walking, with steady steps, his +head still thrown back, down a narrow way.… +</p> + +<p> +And then the woman in the bed gave a stifled shriek, for suddenly she +saw the gallows through an open door at the end of the passage. +</p> + +<p> +She covered her face with her hands, yet something seemed to force her +to peep through her fingers and—for a fleeting moment—Roger Gretorex +turned and looked at her.… +</p> + +<p> +So had the condemned man turned and looked at the woman in the play. +</p> + +<p> +But Roger’s face was so charged with mute, terrible reproach that, +with an anguished cry of protest, Ivy awoke—awoke to the blessed +reality that she was sixty miles from the place where that awful drama +was to be enacted this morning. +</p> + +<p> +Her shaking hand felt for her diamond-circled watch on the Chippendale +table standing by her bed. Having found it, she held it up close +before her eyes. +</p> + +<p> +It was only eight o’clock. She sighed heavily, for that meant that +there was another hour of misery and suspense to be lived through. +Nay, maybe even as much as an hour and a half—for the morbid-minded +woman pal of hers who intended to stand near the prison gate till the +death notice was put up, and had promised faithfully to telephone to +her from a house near by, had thought it unlikely she could get a +trunk call through before half-past nine. +</p> + +<p> +The tears began rolling down Ivy Lexton’s cheeks; yet it was not for +Roger Gretorex, and his awful fate, that she was weeping. It was for +pity of herself, for all she had gone through, and for what remained +for her to go through, till she knew for certain that Roger Gretorex +had died, as he had lived, silent. +</p> + +<p> +She was well aware, deep down in her heart, that not only his counsel, +Sir Joseph Molloy, who believed him innocent, but also that Roger’s +mother, would hope up to the last moment of his sentient life that he +would clear himself by shifting the burden of guilt on the one who was +guilty. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy had written the condemned man a letter three days ago, and she had +made so many rough copies of that short letter that she knew it, now, +by heart. +</p> + +<p> +She repeated that touching letter over to herself, rocking her slight +body this way and that in the large bed. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p class="rt1"> +<i>Sunday night.</i> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">Dear Roger</span>, +</p> + +<p> +I am ill, so I cannot come to you. Otherwise I would do so. You know +that I believe you innocent, and I want now to tell you how <i>grateful</i> +I am for all your kindness to me, and for the love, however <i>wrong</i> it +may have been, that you lavished on me. +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +<span class="sc">Ivy</span>. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +She hoped that letter had given poor Roger pleasure and, above all, +that he had read between the lines and seen how really, truly sorry +she was—how dreadfully grieved that everything had fallen out as it +had fallen out. Indeed, she had twice underlined the word “grateful.” +</p> + +<p> +And then she suddenly felt that she could not go on remembering any +more. It was too horrible—too horrible! So she took a bottle off the +little table, where her watch was lying, and measured out a small dose +into a medicine glass. Lady Flora would wake her, she knew, when that +secretly longed-for message came through. +</p> + +<p> +Soon she was once more plunged into uneasy slumber. But alas! again +there came that hideous, hideous nightmare. +</p> + +<p> +Once more she seemed transported to the condemned cell. But this time, +in addition to the warders, the governor of the prison, and the +chaplain, there was the horrid, cruel, fat-faced man, Sir Joseph +Molloy, who had cross-examined her. True, he had dealt with her +gently, kindly, but only because he had been adjured to do so, and, as +well she remembered, with now and again a tigerish glare in his blue +Irish eyes. +</p> + +<p> +She listened with a feeling of indignation and pitiful dread to his +voice uttering the words: “I adjure you, Gretorex, to tell the truth, +now, for the sake of your poor mother who has always believed you +innocent!” +</p> + +<p> +There was a pause. Ivy clasped her hands together in supplication. But +the collarless prisoner had turned his sunken eyes away from her +pleading face. Was he going to obey Sir Joseph Molloy? Yes! For she +heard Roger’s deep voice answer: “It is as you have always thought it +was, Sir Joseph. I die innocent. Ivy Lexton poisoned her husband.” +</p> + +<p> +Outside that quiet bedroom Lady Flora, already on her way down to +breakfast, heard a fearful cry—“No! No! <i>No!</i>—that isn’t true!” +</p> + +<p> +She opened the bedroom door and saw that Ivy was asleep. “Poor child,” +she murmured. “No wonder she talks in her sleep. Thank God! that +unhappy man is to be hanged this morning.” +</p> + +<p> +And, being the manner of woman she was, she offered up a silent prayer +for the murderer, that he might make his peace with God. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +There came a sharp knock on the bedroom door, and Ivy woke with a +stifled cry. She jumped straight out of bed and stood, her hands +clasped together, waiting. +</p> + +<p> +There came another knock, and then, “Come in!” she cried shrilly, and +Lady Flora’s old parlourmaid entered the room. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy had never liked the woman, and the woman had never liked her. She +did not understand, and she never quite knew how to treat, those of +her own sex whom she regarded as inferior to herself; yet some of the +kindest letters written to her in the last few weeks had been from +domestic servants, warmly sympathising with the heroine of their +favourite Sunday paper. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Doghill is on the telephone, ma’am. Her ladyship is holding the +line till you come.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy snatched up her periwinkle-blue satin dressing-gown and wrapped it +about her. Then she thrust her little white feet into slippers that +matched the dressing-gown, and ran downstairs, telling herself, not +for the first time, how stupid it was to have the telephone in so +public a place as the hall. +</p> + +<p> +Lady Flora was standing, the telephone receiver to her ear. But when +she saw Ivy she silently handed her the receiver and, turning into the +dining-room, shut the door. +</p> + +<p> +“Is that you, Millicent? Yes—yes! I can hear quite well——” +</p> + +<p> +She waited in an agony of mingled hope and fear till, with startling +distinctness, came the measured words that were being uttered sixty +miles away. +</p> + +<p> +“There’s been a reprieve. The story goes that important new evidence +was laid before the Home Secretary yesterday.” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy remained silent. She felt stunned. New evidence? +</p> + +<p> +At last she managed to get out, in a low, strangled voice, “I—I don’t +quite understand.” +</p> + +<p> +But instantly she heard a cross voice interject, “You’ve had six +minutes—can’t allow you to have any more now.” +</p> + +<p> +“Indeed I haven’t! I’ve only just come to the telephone,” she said +pleadingly. +</p> + +<p> +“I can’t help that. The call was put through six minutes ago——” And +ruthlessly she was cut off. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy turned towards the room where she knew her hostess was waiting, +full of sympathy. She opened the door, and then she cried, “He’s +been—he’s been——” and before she could say the word “reprieved” she +had fallen fainting at the other woman’s feet. +</p> + +<p> +Lady Flora would not have believed an angel, had an angel come and +told her, that her dear little friend Ivy Lexton had fainted, not from +relief, but from sheer, agonising fear. +</p> + +<p> +Ivy spent the rest of the morning in bed, a prey to frightful anxiety +and terror. +</p> + +<p> +New evidence? What could that mean? Had Roger really failed her at +last? +</p> + +<p> +At twelve o’clock the parlourmaid came in with a telegram. +</p> + +<blockquote> + +<p> +Hope to be with you to-morrow evening. +</p> + +<p class="rt1"> +<span class="sc">Miles Rushworth</span>. +</p> + +</blockquote> + +<p> +The telegram had been sent from Paris the day before, and delayed in +transmission. +</p> + +<p> +“There is no answer,” said Mrs. Lexton in her soft voice. And then she +lay back, feeling much less unhappy. +</p> + +<p> +Whatever the mysterious reprieve might portend, Rushworth would very +soon, in fact to-morrow, be here to help and to protect her. +</p> + +<p> +As she read the telegram over for the third time, Ivy told herself how +noble, how generous, how devoted the sender had proved himself. Also, +what a wonderful life lay before her as his cherished, sheltered wife! +Rushworth was all-powerful. New evidence? There could be no “new +evidence” for the simple reason that nothing, nothing, <i>nothing</i> had +ever happened—that could possibly be found out. +</p> + + +<h2 id="ch22"> +Chapter Twenty-two +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">As he walked</span> up the gangway of the cross-Channel boat at Calais, +Miles Rushworth’s heart was full of two women. The one was his dead +sister, the other Ivy Lexton, the woman to whom he was hastening, and +whom he expected to see to-day. Every fibre of Rushworth’s being +longed consciously, hungrily, thirstily, for Ivy. +</p> + +<p> +It was a source of real grief to him that these two could never now +meet and love each other. He had been painfully aware that his sister +hoped he would marry her own dearest friend, Bella Dale, and he had +not dared to speak to her of Ivy. +</p> + +<p> +During his long, dreary journey home he had often asked himself if all +she had gone through had changed her from the deliciously pretty, +kind-hearted, rather irresponsible little creature he remembered her +as being, into a more serious woman. Not that he wanted Ivy different. +To him she was already absolutely perfect. But her letters had grown +shorter, as his had grown longer, and vaguely they had disappointed +him. +</p> + +<p> +Roger Gretorex? How often had Rushworth tried to visualise the young +man who had committed so dastardly a crime in order to set free the +woman he had loved hopelessly, and without return, from the +degradation of being tied to such a waster as had been Jervis Lexton. +</p> + +<p> +Though even the South African papers had been full of the wretched +fellow’s photographs, proving that he had a singularly handsome face, +Rushworth had no clear vision of him. Also, Ivy had never once +mentioned him in any of her letters. +</p> + +<p> +Suddenly that fact, Ivy’s absolute silence concerning Gretorex, struck +him as being strange. He also realised, what he had not realised till +now, that poor lovely Ivy could not but be, all her life long, even +after she changed her name, a marked woman. She would be always +pointed at, and that wherever she went in English-speaking lands, as +the heroine of a great <i>cause célèbre</i>. +</p> + +<p> +Yet stop! In the circumstances, would it not only be right, but +reasonable, that she should marry him, Miles Rushworth, almost at +once? He would beg her, entreat her, to consent to an immediate +marriage. And then he would take her away in his yacht to the South, +to some quiet place where they two could be hidden in a trance of +love, while people forgot the sordid story of the murder of which she +had been the innocent cause. +</p> + +<p> +It was a fine winter day, though bitterly cold, so the home-coming +traveller found himself a comfortable spot in a sheltered place, on +the upper deck of the steamer, where was just room for three. +</p> + +<p> +Two deck-chairs were already occupied, one by a big man with whose +powerful, humorous face Rushworth felt he was vaguely familiar, the +other by a delicate, fragile-looking, little grey-haired lady. The +third chair was unoccupied, and so he sat down in it. +</p> + +<p> +Perhaps because he was in a sentimental mood to-day, he felt queerly +moved when he saw that, under their rug, the big man was holding the +hand of the grey-haired little lady. They were talking together +eagerly, happily; obviously, so Rushworth told himself, an +old-fashioned husband and wife, never so happy as when they were +together. +</p> + +<p> +His heart swung back to Ivy Lexton, and to the bliss of their coming +meeting. +</p> + +<p> +Poor, precious darling! What a terrible ordeal she had been through! +He would regret all his life, all their joint life, that he had been +far from her during the weeks that had followed the strange death of +Jervis Lexton. +</p> + +<p> +And then—for a moment he thought his ears had misled him—he heard +that very name of “Lexton” uttered aloud by the man sitting one from +him. +</p> + +<p> +“That Lexton affair? Come now. If you really read your loving +husband’s letters—I sometimes suspect that you don’t, you naughty +little thing—well, there’d be nothing left to tell you! It’s hunting +I should be to-day, instead of coming to meet an ungrateful woman.” +</p> + +<p> +“I want to know what’s happening now, Joe. Also, most of all, what led +to the extraordinary reprieve on the very day this man was to have +been hanged?” +</p> + +<p> +A reprieve? Miles Rushworth felt a sudden rush of anger and surprise. +He was, of course, aware that Roger Gretorex, the man whose name and +personality he loathed, and for whom he felt he would ever feel an +intense, retrospective horror, was to have been hanged this very +morning. That fact had been stated in both the daily papers which are +published in English in Paris. +</p> + +<p> +If it was true that there had been a reprieve that morning, how had +this stranger already become aware of the fact? +</p> + +<p> +“You know I told you, Eileen, long ago, that the poor chap had refused +to appeal?” +</p> + +<p> +“Yes, I remember that,” she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“Well, there seemed nothing left to be done! I was in despair, and it +was only the day before yesterday that by—well, I suppose +old-fashioned folk like you would call it an intervention of +Providence, some astounding new evidence was produced. And what’s +more, I’ve been proved right!” +</p> + +<p> +And there was a tone of triumph in the, now low, organ-like voice. +</p> + +<p> +“D’you mean that what you half suspected was true all along, Joe?” +</p> + +<p> +She had turned her head round, and was gazing up into her husband’s +face. +</p> + +<p> +Rushworth saw the big man bend his head as jovially he exclaimed, +“Bedad! I think we’ve got her cold!” +</p> + +<p> +A tremor ran through the lady. “What a horrible expression,” she +murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“Still, so far there’s something lacking, me dear, and it’s causing me +a bit of anxiety.” +</p> + +<p> +“What’s that, Joe?” +</p> + +<p> +“Motive!” the man exclaimed, in a voice that had become suddenly +grave. And then he went on: “I don’t mind telling you that everything +fair and—well, a bit near the wind, also, was done to try and find +out if our lovely, clinging Ivy had another man in tow. She is a”—the +speaker sought for something in place of the Biblical word trembling +on his lips, but he gave it up, and said instead: +</p> + +<p> +“We heard that there was one chap who went about with her a good deal +last autumn, and who was far more often at Duke of Kent Mansion than +Gretorex ever was. But though we ran him to earth and gave him—at +least I hope so—a pretty bad quarter of an hour, it was clear that he +would never have married her, not if she had been a hundred times +free! Also, though he’s a gay bachelor, and manages to give his lady +friends a scrumptious time, he’s not a rich man, and our practical +little Ivy wants money, money, money all the time.” +</p> + +<p> +“Then what’s going to be done now? You don’t want your man, if he’s +really innocent, to languish in prison half his life,” observed the +little lady shrewdly. +</p> + +<p> +“I do not,” he answered, in his rich, Irish voice. “What’s more, I +want to shift that noose. Once we get her in the dock I’ll see there’s +no recommendation to mercy; trust me for that! The woman’s a +double-dyed murderess. She poisoned her husband, and she as good as +hanged her lover.” +</p> + +<p> +“You haven’t got her in the dock yet, and maybe you never will,” said +his wife calmly. +</p> + +<p> +“Hold on! Hold on! Did you ever see me miss a kill I’d set my heart +on? There’s another woman whose neck I’d like to wring—that of an old +charwoman, who, if she’d told the truth when Gretorex was first +arrested, might have made all the difference, for there would still +have been time, then, to find out something.” +</p> + +<p> +“Has that poor, pretty woman had a chance of saying anything for +herself?” asked his wife slowly. +</p> + +<p> +“That artful little Jezebel is staying with a woman friend in the +country at present, and the police are determined that everything is +to be O.K. this time. It’s for hell she’s making——” and he laughed a +jolly laugh. “Ivy’s held all the cards in her hand up to now, but +she’s going to lose the rubber.” +</p> + +<p> +“I do wonder, Joe, what her motive can have been—her husband had just +got a good job, hadn’t he?” +</p> + +<p> +For a few moments the speaker remained silent, then he said in a +singular voice: +</p> + +<p> +“If Gretorex had hanged this morning, I’d have betted a hundred to one +that within a year we should have seen, in all the papers, a paragraph +announcing that the beautiful Mrs. Lexton, whose husband had died in +such tragic circumstances, was about to be married very quietly to Mr. +Dash, a gentleman of great wealth and considerable position!” +</p> + +<p> +Rushworth moved slightly in his seat. He felt as if, within the last +few minutes, the whole world, his world, had stopped going round, and +that when it began again it would be in quite a different world that +he would find himself. +</p> + +<p> +“Then you think it will come out, now, that Mrs. Lexton was in love +with some man——?” +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t think anything of the kind! My view is that among the +innumerable young fools who have made love to her in the past year or +two, she marked down some rich man as a possible husband, <i>were she +only free</i>. One thing we learned only the other day. This was that two +or three years ago she did her best to persuade that rotter Jervis +Lexton to consent to an arranged divorce. He refused, unluckily for +himself, for, though he was a poor mutt, he adored his wife. She’s the +sort of woman over whom men go fantee——” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s unlucky that you can’t put a name to the happy man, Joe! Eh, my +dear?” +</p> + +<p> +“Unlucky? I should think it is unlucky! Still, someone’s been +supplying pretty Ivy with plenty of money during the last few weeks.” +</p> + +<p> +“It’s strange she wasn’t suspected.” +</p> + +<p> +“Of course she was! But not by the right people. My word, Eileen, she +is a clever little woman! You should have seen her in the witness-box! +Why, butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. But she overplayed her part. I +think a good many people found it difficult to believe that she’s been +what she made herself out to be—a kind of plaster saint.” +</p> + +<p> +“Is there any evidence to show that she was not that?” asked Lady +Molloy quietly. +</p> + +<p> +“There you go! Hate to believe anything of a certain sort about a +woman! You’re a regular suffragette. A cold-blooded poisoner, yes—but +naughty? Oh dear no, not that, <i>if</i> you please.” +</p> + +<p> +Half to himself, he added, “She wrote Gretorex two letters the poor +chap’s servant got out of his paper-basket and pieced together. The +minute I’d read ’em I knew there’d be a reprieve!” +</p> + +<p> +“Why?” +</p> + +<p> +“Because Eddie Law is a highly moral man. He loathes the sins he’s not +inclined to.” Sir Joseph added candidly, “Most of us do, me dear.” +</p> + +<p> +As Rushworth walked down the gangway at Dover two or three of his +fellow-passengers nudged one another and smiled. They thought he was +“a sheet in the wind,” for he did not seem to know quite what he was +doing, or where he was going. +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +The moment Mr. Oram received the wire informing him that the execution +of Roger Gretorex had been postponed, he hurried back to London, full +of surprise and curiosity. +</p> + +<p> +What an amazing—he almost felt it to be, even now, an +unbelievable—story, was that told him with deferential clearness and +dryness by Alfred Finch. +</p> + +<p> +“God bless my soul!” he repeated at intervals. +</p> + +<p> +And then at last, with some magnanimity, he observed, “Then you were +right, Finch, and I wrong, all along. Though I thought her a vain +little fribble, murder is the last thing I’d have suspected that young +woman capable of.” +</p> + +<p> +“I didn’t suspect her either, sir. I was looking for a man—the +successor to Dr. Gretorex in the lady’s affections. The police believe +they’re on the track of what may be styled Mrs. Lexton’s motive. It’s +a man, right enough! Orpington wouldn’t tell me his name. He simply +said he was very rich, and seemingly infatuated with her.” +</p> + +<p> +He gave the old solicitor a rather odd look. But that gentleman did +not take up the challenge, though all Rushworth’s cables, both to Ivy +and to the lawyer himself, had been traced. And Mr. Oram had just +become aware of the fact. +</p> + +<p> +“Well—well—well——” +</p> + +<p> +“I suggest, sir, that you appeal to Sir Edward Law to consider the +release of Dr. Gretorex on licence. The letter which he wrote to Mrs. +Lexton—you have a copy of it here—which someone, I suspect one of +the maids at the flat, sent anonymously to the Home Secretary, though +one can’t exactly call it evidence, makes it clear to any impartial +mind that our man was absolutely innocent of the whole business. As +soon as she got busy, Mrs. Lexton wanted him out of the way. That’s as +plain as a pikestaff. After all, he is a doctor, and he might have +spoilt her game. Also he must have known, if he stopped to think a +bit, that she had had access to the poison.” +</p> + +<p> +“More fool he to go to the flat on that last day,” said Mr. Oram +crustily. +</p> + +<p> +It was that fact which, as soon as he had learnt it, had seemed to fix +the guilt definitely on Gretorex. +</p> + +<p> +“He was dotty about her! When a chap’s in that peculiar condition, +sir, it’s as if he can’t keep away,” murmured Mr. Finch. +</p> + +<p> +And then, it might have seemed irrelevantly, he observed: “Mr. +Rushworth will be back in London in a day or two. Earlier, if he +travels overland from Marseilles.” +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +But even Alfred Finch felt a thrill of surprise when that same +afternoon he was told that Mr. Rushworth was closeted with Mr. Oram. +Indeed, he made a quick mental calculation. Either this must mean that +their important client had come to Mr. Oram’s office straight from +Victoria Station, or that he had flown from Paris. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Finch would have given a good deal to have been present at the +interview which was taking place within a few yards of where he was +working on a tiresome right-of-way case. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Oram’s head clerk had never much liked Miles Rushworth, and he +could not help smiling to himself, as he considered the very awkward +position in which that gentleman would find himself, if he was called +as a witness for the Crown, as he most certainly would be if Mrs. +Lexton were ever put on trial for the murder of her husband. +</p> + +<p> +Alfred Finch knew that something of a most incriminating nature had +been found in Ivy’s bedroom, when the flat in Duke of Kent Mansion had +been searched yesterday. He thought it probable that this consisted of +a series of letters between Mrs. Lexton and Miles Rushworth. Even a +man of huge wealth does not give something for nothing to an +attractive woman. +</p> + +<p> +Lawyers are apt to overlook the exception which proves the rule in +life. +</p> + +<p> +Had Mr. Finch been able to look through a blank wall, he would have +seen Mr. Oram sitting at his writing-table, and looking across it +straight at Miles Rushworth. And could he have heard what was being +said, he would have realised that his employer was speaking in a tone +that was, for him, oddly hesitant and uneasy. +</p> + +<p> +“I’m sorry to say, Rushworth, that I’ve no doubt at all but that +there’s been a terrible miscarriage of justice. I take it that you +knew comparatively little of Mrs. Jervis Lexton, even though her +husband was in your employment?” +</p> + +<p> +Miles Rushworth made a conscious effort to appear calm and +unconcerned. But he failed in that endeavour, and was aware that he +failed. +</p> + +<p> +“I knew them both fairly well,” he answered at last. +</p> + +<p> +Mr. Oram began playing with a paper knife. He was wondering how much +the man who sat there, with overcast face, and anxious, frowning eyes, +was concerned with this horrid business. +</p> + +<p> +“What’s going to be the next move, Oram? I take it that you’ve been +informed?” +</p> + +<p> +“Well, yes, I have been informed, though quite unofficially. +The—ahem! authorities are very naturally perturbed. An innocent man +was very nearly hanged. It was, in fact, a matter of hours——” +</p> + +<p> +Should he tell this old friend and client the truth? All his life long +John Oram had cultivated caution, and technically he was now bound to +silence. But he made up his mind that he owed the truth to Rushworth. +Even now the solicitor had no suspicion of how really close had been +the relations between the woman he now believed to have been a +cold-blooded murderess, and this man whom she had so completely +deceived. He was aware of how carelessly generous Rushworth could be +and often was. +</p> + +<p> +Still, a glance at his client’s face, now filled with a painful +expression of suspense and acute anxiety, showed that this matter was +of great moment to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Mrs. Lexton,” he said in a low voice, “is going to be arrested, I +understand, this evening, or to-morrow morning. The Criminal +Investigation Department of Scotland Yard are completing what they +consider a very strong chain of evidence against her. I have here +copies of three letters which have come into their possession. You had +better glance over them, Rushworth.” +</p> + +<p> +He got up and, leaning across his table, handed a number of +typewritten sheets to his client. +</p> + +<p> +How strange looked those burning words of love and longing, +transcribed on a bad old typewriting machine! But the man now reading +them could visualise Ivy’s pretty flowing handwriting, and, as he read +on, he turned hot and cold. +</p> + +<p> +Then he started on Gretorex’s letter; the letter acquiescing in Ivy’s +decision that there should be a break between them. +</p> + +<p> +“That was written,” observed the solicitor, “after Lexton’s mysterious +illness was well started. I think you will agree that it is the letter +of a man who was certainly unaware of what was going on?” +</p> + +<p> +He waited a moment, then he added: “They’ve unluckily traced all your +cables to the lady, Rushworth, as well as yours to me. I fear that you +are certain to be called as leading witness for the Crown, if Mrs. +Lexton is sent for trial, as seems now inevitable.” +</p> + +<p> +“That would be monstrous! What is my connection with this case?” +exclaimed Rushworth. “Surely I had the right to give all the help in +my power to the wife of one of my own people?” +</p> + +<p> +“They will call you in order to prove that Mrs. Lexton had a strong +motive for wishing to get her husband out of the way,” returned Mr. +Oram in a doleful tone. “I hope you refrained from writing to her? If +you did, I trust she had the sense to destroy your letters.” +</p> + +<p> +“It is this man Gretorex, if, as you seem to think, he is entirely +innocent, who should be called, not I,” said Rushworth in a hard +voice. +</p> + +<p> +“Roger Gretorex will certainly refuse to give evidence against her. +They’ll try to make him. But they’ll fail. He worshipped Ivy Lexton, +and I fear he still loves her.” +</p> + +<p> +Then the old man sighed. “It’s an awful story, Rushworth,” he +observed, “however you look at it.” +</p> + +<p> +The other threw the typewritten sheets of paper back on the table. He +rose, and rather blindly he felt for, and found, his hat and stick. +</p> + +<p> +“I must be going now,” he said shortly. “If I’m wanted, you know where +to find me, Oram.” +</p> + +<p> +He felt humiliated to the depths of his being. His passion for Ivy +Lexton had turned to bitter hatred. Yet he knew that their fates were +linked together, and that through what had been his mad infatuation +for this woman, a name which was known and honoured all over the +world, was not only going to become a laughingstock, but also to be +smirched and befouled for ever. +</p> + +<p> +As he went down the fine staircase of the old house, he exclaimed +wordlessly, “By God, that shall not be!” +</p> + +<p> +He waited a moment in the hall, and in that moment he thought of a way +out. +</p> + +<p> +It was a way made possible by the fact that an unpleasant experience +at the beginning of August, 1914, had taught him the value of gold. +Since the Saturday which had preceded the outbreak of war, he had +always kept a thousand pounds in gold, and a thousand pounds in Bank +of England ten-pound notes, in the private safe of his London office. +</p> + +<p> +He walked quickly to the corner of a quiet street where he had left +his car, and threw the chauffeur the address. +</p> + +<p> +Then he looked at his watch. If what old Oram had said was true with +regard to the probable arrest of Ivy Lexton, there was just time to +accomplish that which he had planned to do in what had seemed but one +flashing second. +</p> + +<p> +“Stop at the nearest telephone box,” he called out. And the chauffeur +drew up at a tube station. +</p> + +<p> +Rushworth was in the telephone box for a long time, for he had to a +certain extent to speak in parables. But the young man whom he had +called up, and had had the good fortune to find at home, at last +understood exactly what was wanted of him. He was an airman to whom +Rushworth had once been magnificently generous. +</p> + +<p> +“Right-ho!” came the young voice down the line. “I’ll be quite ready. +I understand you want me to take my wife, too, and that you’ll motor +her down here from town. Her passport’s always O.K. You can trust me. +Afraid? Not much!” +</p> + +<p> +Rushworth’s face looked strained and white as he came out of the +telephone box. +</p> + +<p> +He was well aware that he was inciting that lad to do, from pure +gratitude, a very wrong thing. Well? If it “didn’t come off,” he, +Rushworth, would take all the blame, of course. But he felt pretty +sure that the plan he had made would succeed, for it had the two +essential qualities which spell success. His plan was bold and his +plan was simple. +</p> + +<p> +True, he wondered uncomfortably if the police had traced that last +wire of his from Paris. He was glad indeed that Ivy had had the wit to +telegraph her country address. And then, as he evoked her lovely face, +her beckoning eyes, his own darkened, and filled with wrath and pain. +</p> + +<p> +He did not go himself into his London office. Instead he sent in his +chauffeur, with the key of his private safe, and armed with minute +instructions as to what he was to take out of it. +</p> + +<p> +Then, when the man had brought him the heavy little canvas bag, and +the envelope containing a hundred ten-pound notes, he threw him the +address of some lodgings in a quiet street off Piccadilly, where he +knew Lady Dale and her daughter were staying just now. His sister had +made him promise that he would see Bella the moment he reached London, +and he was fulfilling that promise. +</p> + +<p> +When he was told that her ladyship was out, but that Miss Dale was in, +and alone, he suddenly felt as if his luck was holding, after all! +</p> + + +<p class="mt1"> +Ivy had insisted on coming back to London before luncheon. +</p> + +<p> +Not only was her mind now full of vague, unsubstantial fears, but she +was aware that Miles Rushworth would call at her flat some time this +evening. That, indeed, was a fact to which she clung and constantly +returned with a feeling of reassurance and hope. Even so she had not +allowed Lady Flora to telephone the fact that she was returning +unexpectedly to the flat. She felt, somehow, that she wanted no one to +know about her movements just now. She was beginning to feel that most +terrifying of sensations—that of being hunted. +</p> + +<p> +Even when settled comfortably, and alone, in a first-class carriage of +the train taking her to town, she found she could not rest, and she +actually got up and began moving about. +</p> + +<p> +It was such an awful sensation—that of feeling that human hounds +might be hot on her scent.… +</p> + +<p> +She had bought her favourite picture paper at the station, and then +she had had a shock, for a large photograph of Roger had confronted +her on the front page. +</p> + +<p> +Underneath the picture ran a long paragraph, stating that Dr. +Gretorex, who was to have been hanged this morning for the murder of +Jervis Lexton, had had his execution postponed on the very eve of its +being carried out. Such a thing had not taken place in England for +close on eighty years. But important new evidence had been placed +before the Home Secretary at the eleventh hour.… +</p> + +<p> +“New Evidence”—Ivy turned those two ominous words over and over +again, in her troubled, anxious mind. They now forced her to do what +she had believed she would never, never have to do—live over again, +in imagination, a certain fortnight of her life, the first fortnight +of last November.… +</p> + +<p> +She found herself imagining, suspecting, wild, crazy things. For +instance, the existence of minute peepholes in the ceilings of certain +rooms in the flat? Even that seemed more likely than that Roger +Gretorex should have “given her away” with regard to the fact that she +had been once left alone by him with a jar of arsenic on the table of +his surgery. +</p> + +<p> +Besides, even if he had done such a cruel, despicable thing, what he +had it in his power to reveal <i>proved</i> nothing, and could prove +nothing. She knew herself to have been not only very clever, but also +very very careful. +</p> + +<p> +And yet, as the train sped nearer and nearer to London, she became +more and more afraid. +</p> + +<p> +The old cook was quite pleased to see “the missus,” and volubly she +described the visit of Inspector Orpington and of his sergeant. +</p> + +<p> +“No, they didn’t find nothing. How could they—when there was nothing +there?” +</p> + +<p> +This Ivy believed to be nothing but the truth, and yet the fact that +the two men from Scotland Yard had come to search the flat, filled her +with a terrible foreboding. +</p> + +<p> +And then, suddenly, she remembered Mrs. Huntley! With a sensation of +sick fear she recalled how Gretorex’s servant had surprised her on +what she now perceived to have been the most dangerous day of her +life. +</p> + +<p> +Vile, wicked, cruel old woman! However, she, Ivy, had already replaced +the cap on the jar labelled “Arsenic” when Mrs. Huntley had crept into +the surgery so slyly and softly behind her. But the jar had been +there, on the table before her, and no doubt the old fox had noticed +it. +</p> + +<p> +Yes! It was probably some sort of gossip traced to Gretorex’s +day-servant which had been the cause both of the reprieve, and of the +presence yesterday of the Scotland Yard inspector here, in the flat. +But, thank God, there was nothing—nothing—<i>nothing</i> that could be +found, and for the best of reasons, that there was nothing to find. +</p> + +<p> +Even so, all this was very frightening, as well as very annoying, if +only because it meant new trouble and worry, just at a time when she, +Ivy, would be wanting to pick up the old, and create the new, links, +between herself and Rushworth. +</p> + +<p> +She went into her bedroom feeling a little reassured. It is always +better to know the worst, and Ivy Lexton thought she did know the +worst now. And it was not so bad as she had feared. +</p> + +<p> +Already she was mentally preparing the tale she would tell. And it ran +somewhat like this: She had gone just for a moment to see Gretorex on +the evening Mrs. Huntley had seen her in the surgery, with a message +from Jervis, who was waiting for her hard by Ferry Place in a taxi. +They two were on their way to a dance, and Jervis had suggested that +Gretorex should come with them. But the fact had made so little +impression on her mind that she had forgotten all about it, when asked +if she had ever been to Ferry Place alone. If Mrs. Huntley mentioned +the supper, she would simply deny that she had been the lady +entertained by Gretorex. Mrs. Huntley had not actually seen her with +her host. She had only seen her for that moment or two in the surgery. +</p> + +<p> +But, even so, Ivy’s nerves were so far upset that she made an +involuntary and violent movement of recoil, when she heard a sudden +loud knock on the front door of the flat. +</p> + +<p> +There followed a moment of delay, and then she heard the cook waddling +down the passage. She told herself that it was probably Inspector +Orpington, and she mentally prepared her story, the explanation, that +is, of that unfortunate encounter with Mrs. Huntley. +</p> + +<p> +And then her heart leapt with joy in her bosom, for, “Is Mrs. Lexton +at home?” was uttered in Miles Rushworth’s voice. +</p> + +<p> +“I don’t know that Mrs. Lexton can see you, sir.” +</p> + +<p> +“I think she’ll see me. Will you kindly say Mr. Rushworth has called +to see her?” +</p> + +<p> +Ivy heard him go into the drawing-room, and, after a few moments spent +before her dressing-table in making up her face, she followed him. +</p> + +<p> +Miles Rushworth was standing in the centre of the room, and when the +door opened, and Ivy came through it, she looked so innocent and so +appealing, as she advanced towards him in her plain black dress, that +suddenly he felt as if all that had happened to-day had been only an +evil dream. Almost he held out his arms. +</p> + +<p> +And then he took a step backwards, for alas! he knew all that had +happened to-day was no dream, but stark reality. +</p> + +<p> +In silence she held out her hand, and perforce he took it in his, for +a moment. +</p> + +<p> +“I felt so sad, even in the midst of my own troubles, when I heard +about your sister,” she murmured. +</p> + +<p> +“Don’t speak of her!” he exclaimed violently. And involuntarily she +shrank back. +</p> + +<p> +She had put down that terrible, stern, sorrow-laden expression on his +face to grief for his sister. But all at once she saw that he was +gazing at her with an alien look—the look of a stern judge—on his +sunburnt face. +</p> + +<p> +What had he heard? What did he know? As she met that awful, accusing +shaft of contempt, and yes, of loathing, a sensation of icy despair +began slowly to envelop her. +</p> + +<p> +“Do you remember Bella Dale?” he asked suddenly. +</p> + +<p> +She answered in a faltering voice, “The girl on the yacht? Of course I +do.” +</p> + +<p> +“She was my sister’s dearest friend,” his voice sank. More strongly he +said, “I went to see her this morning, and—and now we are engaged.” +</p> + +<p> +And then he could not but admire her, for Ivy threw back her head, and +in a hard, clear tone she exclaimed: +</p> + +<p> +“I wish you joy, Mr. Rushworth! Also I do want to thank you from the +bottom of my heart, for all you have done for me.” +</p> + +<p> +She knew now why he looked “like that.” He was ashamed, and well he +might be. +</p> + +<p> +Quickly she told herself that he wasn’t married yet. The fact that he +was so moved showed the power she had over him. It had been foolish of +her to suppose, as she had done for a moment, that he had heard +something to her disadvantage—why, there hadn’t been time! +</p> + +<p> +But what was this he was saying? +</p> + +<p> +“I’m the bearer of bad news, Mrs. Lexton.” +</p> + +<p> +His voice had become almost inaudible. She moved, timorously, a little +nearer to him. +</p> + +<p> +“Bad news?” she echoed uncertainly, and once more terror filled her +burdened, fluttering heart. +</p> + +<p> +“You are to be arrested to-morrow morning on the charge of having +caused the death of your husband by poison. The police claim to +possess ample evidence to ensure a conviction; so you are in frightful +danger.” +</p> + +<p> +Arrested? In one fleeting moment she saw herself a prisoner in the +dock where Roger Gretorex had stood. She visualised the Judge, the +jury, the lawyers in the well of the Court, even the pitiless crowd of +sightseers. The lifting of the black cap on to the Judge’s wig—his +awful words of admonition—the condemned cell… the gallows.… +</p> + +<p> +She who now had always fainted so easily, why did she not faint now? +Because she was tasting the bitterness of death. +</p> + +<p> +Yet she made no sign, though she was staring at Rushworth with dilated +eyes. But for those large, terror-filled eyes, he would have thought +that she had not understood the purport of his awful revelation of +what now awaited her. And something like a spasm of pity shook him to +the depths of his being. +</p> + +<p> +“I think, nay, I’m sure, I can save you,” he exclaimed confidently. +</p> + +<p> +Then he went on, speaking in low, quick tones: “I’ve arranged with a +friend of mine who has got an aëroplane—you remember Jack Quirk, on +the yacht?—to take you by air now, at once, to-day, to Spain. You +will travel as his wife, on her passport. I’ve brought you a thousand +pounds in gold, and another thousand in notes. From Spain you ought to +be able to get a passage to South America without too much trouble. +Quirk will arrange it all for you, and he will give you an address, +where, if in need of help, you can write to me, once you are safe, +far, far away.” +</p> + +<p> +His voice broke. He was remembering a moment—an immortal moment—in +their joint lives, when Ivy had certainly loved him, in her fashion. +</p> + +<p> +He saw her lips, which were quivering under the dab of lipstick rouge, +try to form the words, “Thank you.” +</p> + +<p> +“I’m afraid there’s no time to be lost. We’d better not be seen +leaving the flat together. I’ll say good-bye to you in the hall, and +you’d better follow in about five minutes. My car is in Palace Row. +<i>Don’t bring anything with you.</i> The front door may be watched, but I +think not, as you are believed to be in the country.” +</p> + + +<h2 id="epilogue"> +Epilogue +</h2> + +<p class="noindent"> +<span class="sc">For the first</span> few moments, spent alone by her in her bedroom, Ivy +could only feel relief—sheer, sobbing relief. +</p> + +<p> +Then there came over her a sensation of utter, numb despair. +</p> + +<p> +She had lost everything that makes life worth the living to such as +she… +</p> + +<p> +But there was no time left her, now, to remember the past, or dread +the future. She must hurry—hurry. +</p> + +<p> +So it was that, in less than five minutes after Rushworth had left +her, she was standing outside the flat, clad in a small pull-on black +hat and a big fur coat. +</p> + +<p> +The lift came up, and then, just as she was going to step into it, she +remembered suddenly the bolster bag Rushworth had bought for her at +Dieppe. On the morning of Jervis’s death she had shaken out of the +inner <i>pochette</i> the two or three pinches of—of “stuff” which +remained in it, into the fire, and then, hardly knowing what she was +doing, she had put it back in the red despatch-box. It would be all +right, there, till she went out of her widow’s mourning. +</p> + +<p> +She couldn’t leave <i>that</i> behind. Why it was worth a lot of money! +Besides, she would give up wearing black as soon as she reached the +place of safety Rushworth had promised her. +</p> + +<p> +“Wait a minute,” she said to the porter. “I’ve forgotten something. I +won’t be a second!” +</p> + +<p> +She put her key in the lock, and rushed back to her bedroom. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile there began an insistent ringing for the lift from the +bottom of the shaft, in the hall of the Mansion. +</p> + +<p> +The porter knew pretty Mrs. Lexton’s ways. He felt sure that when she +had said: “I won’t be a second!” she meant probably five minutes, +maybe even longer than that, especially if she had forgotten +something. +</p> + +<p> +The bell was ringing continuously now, and with a shock the man +remembered that the agent for Duke of Kent Mansion was coming to see a +leak in the roof this very afternoon. +</p> + +<p> +Quickly he pulled the cable, and the lift slid down. +</p> + +<p> +Meanwhile Ivy had run back into her bedroom, turning up the electric +light as she walked through the door. Quickly she took the three keys +she always carried about with her in her embroidered black vanité +case, and, unlocking the half of the great cupboard, she seized the +despatch-box. +</p> + +<p> +The lid fell back the wrong side, queerly. Someone failing to force +the lock had prized open the hinges, and the bag with its beautiful +emerald and pearl clasp was gone—gone! +</p> + +<p> +She threw a wild look round her. What could she take with her? Then +she remembered what Rushworth had said. No, she mustn’t take anything. +Nothing, apart from that little bolster bag, was of any real value.… +She turned out the light, and, running blindly through the dark hall, +opened the front door of the flat. She hadn’t been more than two or +three minutes, after all. +</p> + +<p> +She was trembling now; she felt strung-up and terrified, hardly +conscious of what she was doing. +</p> + +<p> +She opened wide the lift gates. They were already ajar, and then—her +little feet stepped through into the void. +</p> + +<p> +The man below heard a terrible scream, followed by an awful thud, +thud, on the iron top of the lift. +</p> + +<p> +And, at once, with a fearful sensation of dismay, he knew what he had +done. He had omitted to shut the gates for the first time since he had +been on this job. +</p> + +<p> +For one thing, apart altogether from that little matter of the agent’s +visit, he, too, was excited—he, too, had been wondering what was +going to happen. Everyone in Duke of Kent Mansion had been thrilled by +the news of the reprieve. And, in his excitement at seeing the heroine +of the Lexton Mystery, and in his certainty that he would be up again +in less than a minute, he had left the lift gates ajar. +</p> + +<p> +In one rushing moment, while on his way to the house-telephone to ring +up the engineer, he visualised with dreadful clearness the Coroner’s +court, the censure passed on him by the jury, his dismissal from this +good situation, and the consequent angry despair of his wife. +</p> + +<p> +Poor, pretty, pleasant-spoken “Ivy,” as he, in the company of +thousands of other men of all ages, conditions, and kinds, had fallen +into the way of secretly calling her—she had brought bad luck on +everybody who came in touch with her. Well! Now she wouldn’t be able +to harm anybody, man or woman, any more. +</p> + +<p class="center mt1"> +THE END +</p> + + +<h2> +TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES +</h2> + +<p> +Minor spelling inconsistencies (e.g., dovelike/dove-like, night +club/night-club, etc.) have been preserved. +</p> + +<p class="noindent mt1"> +<b>Alterations to the text</b>: +</p> + +<p> +Add ToC. +</p> + +<p> +Punctuation: fix some quotation mark pairings/nestings, and some +missing periods. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter Two] +</p> + +<p> +Change “little woman now <i>sittinng</i> so close to him” to <i>sitting</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“She had further <i>confesed</i> that now they were really” to <i>confessed</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“a keen appreciation of all that makes <i>civilsed</i> life decorous” to +<i>civilised</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter Eight] +</p> + +<p> +(And yet the fact that she was now a widow would certainly <i>made</i> +Roger “tiresome.”) to <i>make</i>. +</p> + +<p> +“come over her a most unexpected sensation of <i>lonelines</i>” to +<i>loneliness</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter Ten] +</p> + +<p> +“you were dismayed by the <i>charge</i> in his appearance” to <i>change</i>. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter Thirteen] +</p> + +<p> +(He had <i>know</i> “Mr. Roger” from childhood.) to <i>known</i>. +</p> + +<p> +(“I have no legal adviser.” and she looked at him surprised) change +the period to a comma. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter Seventeen] +</p> + +<p> +“those sort of people stop short at murder. believe me” change the +period to a comma. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter Eighteen] +</p> + +<p> +(“There’s a young lady to see you in the drawing-room. ma’am,”) change +the period to a comma. +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter Nineteen] +</p> + +<p> +“<i>Mrs.</i> Finch said something which surprised Enid Dent” to <i>Mr.</i> +</p> + +<p class="noindent"> +[Chapter Twenty] +</p> + +<p> +“that these various documents provide <i>sufficent</i> reason for” to +<i>sufficient</i>. +</p> + +<p class="center mt1"> +[End of text] +</p> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 79259 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/79259-h/images/cover.jpg b/79259-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..289a559 --- /dev/null +++ b/79259-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c72794 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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