On the way home from the common, Cyril and Bella agreed that it would be wise to say nothing about her true parentage. In the first place, it would benefit no one to be thus candid, and in the second, such a statement would lead to questions being asked which might get Durgo into trouble. After all, the lovers argued, since Pence, as the chief party, did not move in the matter, it was useless for them to fight his battles. The more particularly when Durgo had acted so generously in surrendering the jewels. The black man had behaved in a way for which Cyril would not have given him credit. Few members of the boasting white race would have done as much.
According to the arrangement which the lovers came to, Bella was to remain Miss Huxham to the world until such time as Edwin Lister could be found, and the truth of Huxham's death became known. Of course, with jewels valued at forty thousand pounds, the girl was quite an heiress, and she proceeded to build castles in the air for the advancement of Cyril, when he became her husband. The young man did not say much, as he did not wish to damp her ardour, but he privately thought that if his father were in possession of the jewels he would not surrender them easily. If Durgo was generous, Edwin Lister, as his son knew, was not, and since he had risked his neck to get the treasure he would certainly not hand it over to a girl whom he did not know, for a mere sentimental whim. That the girl was to be his son's wife, and that the son would benefit by the sale of the jewels, would make no difference.
On the way back to the cottage, Bella recovered her self-control and her spirits. It was a wonderful relief to her to learn that she was not the daughter of the gruff old mariner, whom she had never liked. Looking back on her life at Bleacres, Bella no longer wondered that her supposed father had never shown her any affection, and she shuddered when she recalled the terrible fact that his hands were red with blood. On consideration, however, she gave Huxham full credit for the way in which he had acted towards her. He had come to England a thief and a murderer, it is true, but he could easily have left her in the care of the people who looked after her in a little Croydon house. Bella could scarcely remember that house or the woman who stood to her in the place of a mother, her own being dead.
Almost her earliest recollection was being taken from Croydon by Captain Huxham and placed with some friends of his at Shepherd's Bush until she was nine years old. Then she lived with Huxham for a few years, and ultimately was sent to the Hampstead boarding-school, whence she returned to Bleacres at the age of twenty. Thus the captain had educated her and had looked after her, and in his own coarse way had proved himself to be generous to a certain extent. Badly as he had acted in robbing her of her heritage, he might have behaved infinitely worse. And by her heritage Bella meant the jewels. With the property and the income left to Mrs. Coppersley, now Mrs. Vand, she had nothing to do, and she no longer grudged the woman what she had schemed to get. But it was probable that had Mrs. Vand not so schemed, Huxham, for very shame, might have given his adopted daughter his nefarious earnings.
"I must not be hard on Captain Huxham," said Bella, when Cyril brought her to the gate, "for, in his own strange way, he acted kindly. But I am glad that he did not leave me anything, as I am certain he earned his money in some shady manner."
"A kind of Captain Kidd," assented Lister gravely. "I agree with you. But the old ruffian had a soft spot in his heart for you, my dear."
"No," said Bella, shaking her head, "I would not say that exactly. He suffered from remorse and therefore looked me out when he came to England. I did not find him an affectionate father by any means. But he was just, in a grim way, and even generous. He grudged me nothing save ready money. I wonder if Mrs. Vand knows the truth."
"You said yourself that she did not," replied Lister quietly, "and I am inclined to think so too. A tyrant like Mrs. Vand would have been only too glad to tell you the unpleasant truth."
"Unpleasant? Why, it is a delightful truth!"
"Unpleasant from Mrs. Vand's point of view, since, had she known that you were not her brother's daughter, in no way could you claim the money."
Bella shrugged her shoulders. "I am very, very glad that she has got the money, and much good may it do her. But I am thankful that Captain Huxham did not reveal the truth about me to her. Now she need never know."
"It matters very little whether she knows or not," retorted Cyril. "She cannot gain possession of the jewels. Those are clearly yours."
"How are we going to gain possession of them?" asked Bella lingering.
Cyril looked hopelessly up to the blue sky. "Heaven only knows! The first thing to be done is to find my father and see if they are in his possession. And now that we are parting, Bella, and you feel better, I don't mind telling you that I don't think my father will give them up—if indeed he has them."
"But to me, his son's future wife——"
"My father is quite unbiassed by sentimental considerations," said Cyril very dryly. "What he holds, he keeps. However, there is plenty of time to talk of this matter when we meet my father. Meanwhile, what will you do?"
Bella shook the bundle of papers which she carried. "I am going to my bedroom to read these," she said seriously. "I wish to learn everything that concerns my true parentage. I may have relatives, you know."
"If you have," said Lister emphatically, "I only trust that you will leave them severely alone. I don't care for relatives; they ask everything and give nothing."
"Well," said Bella smiling, for she had quite recovered her spirits, "so long as I have you, I need no sisters or cousins or aunts. Good-bye, dear. No, don't kiss me; someone may be looking on."
"What of that? Everyone knows that we are engaged."
"It doesn't do to emphasise the engagement in public," said the girl seriously, and ran into the cottage. At the door she turned. "I shall tell you all that I read in these papers," she called out, and vanished, while Cyril returned home to think over the strange turn which events had taken. And things were strange, for in striving to solve one mystery they had solved another. In seeking for Huxham's assassin they had found the true father of Bella.
Dora had not yet returned, so Bella, in the seclusion of her bedroom, felt relieved. She did not wish, as yet, to share her secret even with the little school-mistress, good friend as that amiable woman had proved to be. Locking her door she sat down and unrolled the bundle. It consisted of many sheets of foolscap, and appeared to be a kind of rough diary kept by Jabez Huxham, when he was in Africa. The script was in his crooked painful writing, but was legible enough, and after some practice Bella managed to read it fairly easily. Seated on her bed, she perused what was set down, and found the reading extremely interesting.
The sheets seemed to have been torn from a manuscript book, for the diary both commenced and ended abruptly and dealt entirely with Maxwell Faith and his doings. The old pirate had evidently ripped the pages from the diary which he kept and had placed them in the carved chest, which Mrs. Tunks had found in the attic. There also, according to Durgo's story, the jewels had been stored, so apparently Huxham had used the chest—which had belonged to Faith—as a repository for all that concerned the dead trader. But Edwin Lister could scarcely have gone to the garret to seek the chest and get the jewels, since he did not know his way about the old mansion. It was, therefore, evident that Huxham had kept the jewels in his study safe, and had removed the chest containing the torn-out leaves to the attic. Afterwards he had apparently placed the papers in the safe also, where Pence had probably found them. But Bella did not pause to think out these matters. She was to much interested in the story which was set down.
Huxham stated abruptly that he met Maxwell Faith at Calabar, and had been engaged by him to transport certain goods up the Cross River, Nigeria, as far as Ogrude, when they were to be taken in canoes up to Yahe on the stream of that name. The goods were for Kawal, Durgo's father, with whom Faith appeared to have had many dealings. Faith and Huxham—so the writer said—got on very well, and the former told the latter much about himself and his past. The trader declared that he was the son of a wealthy Huntingdon Quaker, but had been disowned by his family and by the Society of Friends, because he had married a lady who was a Roman Catholic. There was one daughter, who had been born in London and had cost the mother her life. Faith said that he had placed his daughter Isabella with some friends of his at Croydon, and had come to Nigeria to make money for her. From what Bella could gather, her father appeared to have been desperately fond of her.
Afterwards Huxham and Faith parted, but met again in the Hinterland at the chief town of Kawal and again became friendly. Then the trader told Huxham that because he had supplied the chief with guns and ammunition, and had proved his friendship in many ways, he had received ancient jewels to the amount of forty thousand pounds. He was going home to his daughter with the money. At this part of the diary a portion of the manuscript was torn away, apparently that which dealt with the murder of Faith by Huxham.
The story commenced abruptly again with the statement that the writer was going to England with his earnings and with the jewels; and intending to seek out Faith's little daughter and adopt her. Huxham gave no reason for doing so in his diary; but Bella, reading between the lines, guessed that the man was overcome with remorse—a strange thing for so hardened a sinner as Huxham undoubtedly was. Then came hasty notes of Huxham's fears lest he should be robbed for the sake of the jewels, and reference to an unknown man who was dogging his steps. Ogrude, Afikpa, Obubra and Calabar were towns mentioned as having been the scene of adventures with this man, whose name was not given. Afterwards the hasty notes detailed the finding of Faith's little daughter at Croydon, her adoption by the writer and her removal to Shepherd's Bush. A few remarks were made relative to the fears of Huxham, and of his determination to find some place in the country where he would be safe from pursuit. The final page was torn off in the middle, and Bella could read no more.
Putting away the bundle in her box, she reflected on what she had read. It was easy for her to find her Quaker relatives, as the name and address of the family were given. Evidently these same relatives were rich, but very stiff-necked in Quaker traditions. Bella, however, thought very little of this at the moment. Her brain was employed in wondering if Huxham had met with his death at the hands of the unknown man who had dogged his footsteps in Nigeria. Without doubt this man knew of the existence of the jewels, and that Huxham had murdered Faith to get them. It might be that he determined to get the jewels, and, having traced Huxham to England after long years, had killed him and so gained his end. And this man—Bella asked herself the question earnestly—was this man Edwin Lister? She resolved to tell Cyril and to give him the papers to read. He could decide better than she, and probably Durgo could throw much light on the subject.
But there was no doubt that Huxham had bought the Solitary Farm, and had planted the corn thickly, and had mounted the search-light on the roof of Bleacres, so that he might defend himself from robbery and possibly from death. But all his precautions had been in vain, and he had been struck down at last in his very fortress. And by Edwin Lister! Bella felt certain that, as Edwin Lister had been many years in Nigeria and had been a close friend of Kawal's, he must be the unknown man to whom Huxham had so often referred. Lister was the assassin; there could be no doubt on that point.
Very thoughtfully the girl locked up the papers, and descended to the drawing-room to wait for the return of Dora. She greatly wished to speak to her friend about what she had discovered, but such a confidence was not to be thought of, as many things had to be done first. Until Edwin Lister was discovered, Bella felt that she would have to be silent. But her thoughts on this subject were brought to an abrupt conclusion when she opened the drawing-room door, for she unexpectedly beheld Silas Pence.
"I came to see you, Miss Faith," he said, using her true name, "and I told the servant not to announce me. I waited here till you came."
Speaking in this jerky, nervous manner, the young man did not attempt to rise, as he appeared to be ill and exhausted. His face was haggard and his head was bound up in a white cloth. Anything more weird than his looks Bella had never seen, and she recoiled on the threshold of the room, only anxious to escape from his unwelcome presence.
"Have you come to persecute me again?" she asked.
"No! no! no!" said Pence weakly, and yet with great relief in his tone. "I have come to ask your pardon for the way in which I have behaved. I was mad to trouble you as I did, but now I have recovered my reason."
"What do you mean exactly?"
Pence smiled in a ghastly manner. "Can you not guess," said he, touching the linen rag round his head. "The blow I received when I fell on the fender has changed my feelings towards you."
"But how can a blow do that?" asked Bella, relieved but puzzled.
"I cannot say," faltered Pence, resting his aching head on one thin hand. "I really cannot say; my brain won't think just now."
"Then don't think and don't talk," said Bella, kindly placing a plump cushion at his back. "Rest quietly and I'll make you a cup of tea."
"You give me good for evil," said the preacher, flushing painfully.
"No, no!" replied the girl hastily, and remembering her share in his trouble. "You did me great honour in asking me to be your wife, though you were a trifle difficult in some ways. But now——"
"It is all gone; it is all gone. I assure you it is all gone!"
"What is all gone?"
"All my love for you; all my desire; all my mad infatuation. I like you as a friend, Miss Faith—I shall always like you as a friend—but I can never, never worship you again in the way I did."
"Thank heaven for that!" said Bella fervently. She knew no more than did Silas how the change had come about. But it was evident that the blow on his head had suddenly rearranged his ideas.
"Up to ten o'clock last night I loved you madly, despairingly, and would have risked my soul to gain your hand. But since I fell"—he passed his hand across his forehead in a bewildered manner—"everything has changed."
"And for the better," Bella assured him. "Come, don't think anything more about the matter. I have rung the bell for tea."
"I rung the bell also last night. It brought in Mrs. Queen, very fortunately, or I might have bled to death, Miss Faith."
"Why do you call me Miss Faith?" asked Bella abruptly.
"Because you are Miss Faith," said the preacher, lifting his haggard face to her own in some surprise. "Did not the black man tell you?"
"How do you know that I have anything to do with the black man?"
"I have seen Mr. Lister with him. I saw you all three talking on the common. Oh, Miss Faith, you don't know how I have followed and spied on you!" and the man flushed with shame and dismay.
"Did you listen?" asked Bella abruptly.
"No; I did not fall so low as that, but I followed and watched."
"Why?"
"Because I loved you. That is all over now; I shall never follow or watch you again. I am glad that the black man threw me down last night. When I found this morning that my prayers had been answered and that I no longer suffered from this mad passion, I resolved to say nothing about what had taken place."
"And so invented the story of the epileptic fit?"
"Yes; but the truth is——"
"I know the truth: Durgo told everything to me and to Mr. Lister this morning, or rather this afternoon; also Durgo gave me the papers. I have read them, and know that I am not Captain Huxham's daughter. By the way"—Bella looked sharply at the preacher—"are we friends?"
"Yes, if you will have me for a friend," said Pence meekly.
"By all means, now that you love me no longer. Be my friend,"—she held out her hand, which Pence grasped feebly—"and tell me how you got those papers."
"From your father's—I mean from Captain Huxham's safe."
"Then you were in the room on that night?"
"Yes. I saw the body."
"And you said nothing."
"No. Had I done so, I should have incriminated myself. When I entered the study Captain Huxham was lying dead under the desk."
"Did you see anyone about?"
"I saw no one, not even Mr. Lister, whom I had followed into the house."
"Just explain precisely what you did see," said Bella, anxiously.
Pence thought for a few moments. "I was watching the house as usual on that night because I loved you," he said, in a slow, feeble way, for he was still weak from loss of blood. "I beheld Mr. Lister coming towards me. He brushed past me, and entered the Manor by the front door. I watched for his return, intending to speak to him. But he never came out."
Bella sat up alertly. "He never came out?"
"No. I don't know how long I watched; but finally I grew tired, and stole up to the house. The front door was ajar. I saw that the study door was also open, so I went in. Then I saw Captain Huxham lying dead and bleeding, with the safe open and the papers in disorder. In the safe, or, rather, tumbled on the floor before the safe was a bundle of bank-notes. The Accuser of the Brethren tempted me," said Silas, with the perspiration beading his high forehead, "and I snatched up the notes, for I thought that if I had money I could marry you. I then saw that bundle which the black man took from me, and thinking there might be more notes in the bundle, I snatched that up also and fled."
"Why did you fly?" asked Bella, following this story with great interest.
"I thought I heard a noise, and feared lest I should be accused of killing Captain Huxham. I ran out of the study, and out of the house, and down the path between the standing corn, as though the devil was after me. But he was not after me," wailed Pence, standing up, "he was in my heart. Here is the money for which I sold my precious soul," and he threw a packet of bank-notes on the table with feverish eagerness. "It was all for your sake!"
Bella took up the notes. "The man you mistook for Mr. Lister was his father," she said quietly; "did you not see him in the room?"
"I saw no one. Did Lister's father kill Captain Huxham?"
"Can't you tell?" asked the girl, looking at him straightly.
"I have told everything," said Pence, with an air of fatigue; "now I die," and before she could help him he fell full length on the floor quite insensible. The interview had proved too much for him in his weak state.
The corn on Bleacres was rapidly ripening under the beams of the powerful sun. The Manor-house was islanded amidst a golden sea of grain, the waves of which rolled up even to its ancient walls. The winding path to the boundary channel was still the sole means of approach, but few people came up this to the house, as the Vands were not popular. Henry certainly was approved of, on account of his manners, his affliction, and his violin-playing; but the neighbours, ignorant of the truth, could not forgive his wife for robbing Bella of her inheritance. Now that she was rich and re-married, it was Mrs. Vand's intention to become the great lady of the district, but hitherto she had not met with much success in her bid for popularity.
But, in spite of cold looks and significant speeches, Mrs. Vand went from house to house, talking of a Harvest Home fete, which she proposed to give as soon as the grain was reaped. Her husband would not accompany her on these social visits, as he was shrewd enough to see that only time would ameliorate the bad impression which Mrs. Vand's callous conduct had created. In vain he tried to show his wife that it would be wise to retire for a short period. Mrs. Vand scorned such Fabian tactics, and did her best to take by storm the position she felt that her wealth and personality deserved. The more she was snubbed, the more she persisted, and there was no doubt but what, in the end, she would gain what she wanted, by wearing down those who resented her conduct.
Mrs. Vand paid a visit even to Dora Ankers, choosing a Saturday afternoon, when she knew that Bella was walking on the common with her lover. The little school-mistress received her coldly, as she had never liked the woman from the first day she had set eyes on her. But Mrs. Vand, in the most flamboyant of costumes, was all smiles and small talk, refusing to see for one moment the chilly reception she was receiving.
"You really must come to our Harvest Home, Miss Ankers," she babbled; "what with Henry's taste and my money, it will be wonderfully gay and bright and artistic. Everyone will help to reap the corn, and in the evening we will have a ball, at which Henry will play old English tunes, to which we shall dance. You must come. I shall take no refusal."
"How can I?" asked Dora tartly, "seeing that your niece whom you have treated so badly, is stopping with me."
Mrs. Vand drew up her stout figure with great dignity. "That Bella Huxham left her home and my guardianship is purely her own fault," she replied. "I promised to look after her, at poor Jabez's request. But she chose to behave in a way of which I did not approve, and to engage herself to a man, who is not the husband I should have picked for her."
"Bella has every right to choose a husband for herself," retorted Miss Ankers.
"Girls are not clever enough to choose the right man. And Mr. Lister——"
"You know nothing about him, Mrs. Vand."
"That is exactly what I complain of," said the other woman triumphantly, "he may be a rogue and a scamp."
"He may be, but he is not. Mr. Lister is a gentleman."
"That doesn't prevent his being a bad character."
"Well," said Dora, rising to terminate the visit, "I don't care about discussing my friends."
Mrs. Vand rose also. "Let us shelve the subject," she said grandly, "and you can tell Bella that I am willing to forgive and forget. If she likes to come to our Harvest Home, she can do so. I am not the one to bear malice. It is the last Harvest Home we shall have," prattled Mrs. Vand, as her hostess skilfully edged her towards the door. "Henry does not intend to sow wheat again, and the grounds of Bleacres will be thrown open to the public."
"People are not fond of wandering in marshes," said Dora dryly. "If you want to please us, throw open the Manor-house. That is interesting, if you like."
"And haunted," said the visitor in a thrilling whisper; "do you know of any sad legend connected with the Manor-house, Miss Ankers?"
"No!" snapped Dora, tartly; then her curiosity got the better of her dislike for Mrs. Vand. "Is it really haunted?"
"There are footsteps, and whisperings, and rappings in the twilight. I told Henry that if this sort of thing continued, I should leave the place."
Privately, Dora wished that she would, and thus rid the neighbourhood of a most undesirable presence, but aloud she merely remarked that the noises might be due to rats, a suggestion which Mrs. Vand scouted.
"It's a ghost, a ghost!" she insisted—"all old families have a ghost. But do not let us talk of it," she continued, looking round with a shudder; "already the thing has got on my nerves. To go to a more pleasant subject: let me invite you for a row on the water."
"A row on the water?" echoed Dora, who knew of no lake in the neighbourhood.
"On the channel at the end of my grounds," explained Mrs. Vand. "Henry has bought a rowing-boat, and takes me far into the country. You can almost reach the railway line before you get to the swamps. Do come."
"I'll think about it," said Miss Ankers, only anxious to get her visitor out of the house before Bella came back.
"Do, dear, and come to our Harvest Home. It will be quite artistic: you have no idea of Henry's perfect taste, and if Bella comes I shall be glad to see her, in spite of her nasty behaviour, and—and——" Mrs. Vand could think of nothing more to say, so took herself off, with a gracious smile, quite sure that she had played the part of a great lady to perfection.
"Ugh!" said Dora, looking after the stout, gaudily-clothed figure, "you're a spiteful cat, if ever there was one. I shouldn't be surprised to hear that you had killed your brother yourself, in order to get the money."
Unaware of this amiable speech, Mrs. Vand sailed grandly through the village, dispensing smiles and patronage. Fortunately for herself, she was not a thought-reader, or her self-satisfaction might have received a severe reproof. She was considered to be considerably worse than Jezebel, and in her stoutness was compared to the late Mrs. Manning, a notable murderess. To her face many were agreeable, but usually she was not received with the best grace. Finally, towards the evening, she returned to the Manor-house to report on her triumphs.
Crossing the boundary-channel, she saw the boat which her husband had lately bought. It was a narrow but comfortable craft of a light build, and the water-way was quite broad enough to permit of its being rowed very comfortably, even though the oars occasionally touched the banks. Mrs. Vand looked at this boat with a singular expression, and then, stepping across the planks, walked up to her lordly abode. She found that her husband was absent, and had left word with the servant that he would not be back to dinner. Mrs. Vand was annoyed, as she did not like eating alone; but in her heart of hearts she was afraid of her quiet husband, even though he was considerably her junior, and made no comment. However, the servant who brought in the seven o'clock tea had much to say, and Mrs. Vand permitted her to talk, for, as usual, the sinister influence of the Manor was getting on her healthy nerves.
"Master's gone to the village, to see his ma," said the servant, who was small and elfish and somewhat brazen. "Then he's going to see Tunks."
"What's the matter with Tunks?" asked Mrs. Vand, pouring out the tea.
"He's ill. He's been drinking hard for weeks, ever since that horrid murder, mum, and now the doctor says he's got delirious trimmings."
Mrs. Vand looked up sharply, and frowned. "He is raving?"
"Raving hard, mum. But master will see that he is looked after."
"Your master is very good," said Mrs. Vand, taking a piece of bread. "You can go, Sarah."
The servant departed somewhat unwillingly, as she did not like the big, bare kitchen, and felt the influence of the unseen as did her mistress. But as yet, ghostly doings had not been sufficiently scaring to make her throw up a good situation. Nevertheless, she shivered in the kitchen, and wished that Tunks was present to keep her company, as he often did, at the evening meal. But Tunks was raving at the present moment in the hut on the marshes, and there was no chance of anyone else coming to Bleacres.
Mrs. Vand sat and shivered in the dining-room also. She lighted three lamps, and although the evening was warm, she set fire to the coals and wood in the large, old-fashioned grate. It seemed to her that she could not have enough light or warmth to ward off the cold, malicious influence, which seemed to spread a sinister atmosphere throughout the vast room. Shivering at the head of the table, Mrs. Vand kept casting furtive looks here and there, as though she expected to see the blood-stained figure of her murdered brother appear like Banquo's spectre. Outside the twilight gradually deepened to luminous darkness, and although she had finished her tea, she did not feel inclined to move about the gloomy passages. Again and again, she wished that Henry would return.
At nine o'clock her nerves were still shaky, and she felt that she could not stand the dining-room any longer. Ringing the bell, she took a lamp in each hand, and told Sarah—who entered speedily—to take the other. The two women proceeded to the drawing-room, and Mrs. Vand, having pulled down the blinds, ordered Sarah to bring her work and sit beside her. The servant was only too pleased to obey, and for the next half-hour the two sat in pleasant gossiping confabulation, Mrs. Vand knitting a silk tie for her husband, and Sarah trimming a wonderful hat with aggressively brilliant flowers. There was no noise, as the wind had dropped, and everything was intensely still. Mrs. Vand and Sarah chattered incessantly to keep up their courage in the ghostly atmosphere. Suddenly—
"Listen!" said Mrs. Vand, raising her hand. "Do you hear?"
Sarah turned white through her dingy skin, and held her breath. There came distinctly the sound of three knocks from somewhere near the fire-place; then a long, dreary sigh. The servant shrieked, and sprang for the door. But Mrs. Vand was after her in one moment, and seized her. "Hold your tongue, you fool! It's only rats."
As if to give the lie to her statement, there came the swish, swish of silken skirts, and then the sigh again. This was too much for Mrs. Vand. She scuttled panic-stricken into the hall, followed by the shrieking Sarah. At the same moment, as though it had been prearranged, the front door opened and Vand appeared.
"Oh, Henry! Henry!" gasped his wife, and clung to him.
The young man shook her off. "What is the matter?" he asked in calm tones. But Mrs. Vand being too terrified to answer, Sarah did so for her. "The ghost! the ghost! the ghost!"
"What rubbish!" said Vand, easily; "there is no ghost, you silly girl, and if there is, here is one who can lay it."
He stepped aside, and Granny Tunks, lean and weird-looking, appeared at the door. She had a white cloak over her fantastic dress, and looked more witch-like than ever. Mrs. Vand stared at the woman in surprise. "Why have you left your grandson?" she asked, and glancing at Henry.
"He's sound asleep, deary, the fit having passed. A gal o' mine, of the true Romany breed, looking after him. Your sweet husband here"—she waved a skinny hand towards Vand—"asked me to come and see what I could do to lay this unquiet spirit who walks."
"Rubbish! rubbish!" said Mrs. Vand, now feeling more confident in company.
"It's not rubbish, deary," said Mrs. Tunks, mysteriously; "the dead walk."
"The dead?"
"Your poor brother, as is uneasy at having been pitched out of life so cruel. He's walking," and she nodded weirdly.
On hearing this statement, Sarah whimpered and clutched at Mrs. Vand's dress, whereupon that lady who was extremely pale herself—shook her off. "Go to bed, Sarah," she commanded.
"Me!" screeched the girl, "and when there's ghosts walking! I'd scream myself into fits if I went up-stairs."
Mrs. Vand appealed to her husband. "Henry, make her go."
The young man took the girl by the shoulders, and propelled her towards the foot of the stairs, but Sarah resisted wildly, and finally made a bolt for the still open front door. "I'll go home to mother," she cried hysterically, and disappeared into the darkness.
"There," said Mrs. Vand, angrily, to Granny Tunks. "See what you've done. The house will get a bad name. I'll give that minx warning in the morning."
Vand, seeing that it was useless to run after the terrified Sarah, who by this time was half-way to Marshely, closed the door, and shrugged his shoulders. "Come into the drawing-room," he said to Mrs. Tunks.
"No, no!" cried his wife, shaking; "the ghost is there. I heard the rapping and the sighing and the——"
"Yes, yes, yes!" interrupted Vand, with less than his usual coolness; "that is why I have brought Granny. There is an evil influence in this house, and I want her to find out what it is."
"Do you believe in such rubbish?"
"You seemed to believe in it just now," said the cripple drily. "Yes, I do believe in the unseen, as I have had too much proof not to believe."
"Then get a priest, get a priest!" cried Mrs. Vand wildly, and looking twice her age. "What is the use of this old fool?"
Granny Tunks laughed in an elfish manner when she heard herself spoken of thus, and seemed very little put out. "A fool can do what a wise woman can't," she croaked; "your husband's wiser nor you, deary. He knows."
"Knows what?" asked Mrs. Vand, turning on the ancient gipsy fiercely.
"That there's danger coming to you and him."
Mrs. Vand cast one scared and indignant look on the withered face, and ran into the drawing-room. Henry had preceded her here, and was standing by the table looking round the room in an inquiring manner, evidently on the alert for the mysterious sounds. Mrs. Vand caught his arm. "Do you hear what this woman says?" she asked, shaking him.
"As the door was open I did hear," he replied coolly; "don't be a fool, Rosamund. I brought her here to see what she can tell us."
"About?—" Mrs. Vand faltered and broke down.
"Hold your tongue!" said Henry with an angry hiss like that of a serpent.
Usually the young man wore a mild and gentle expression, but on this night his face was haggard and his eyes were wild. He had all his wits about him, however, and forced his wife into a chair, where she sat trembling violently. "I've had enough of these ghostly pranks," he said in a fierce undertone, "and as Granny undoubtedly possesses clairvoyant powers, I wish her to learn all she can. Come in, Mrs. Tunks!" he added, raising his voice, and the old witch-wife entered the room, looking singularly weird in her white cloak.
"Is that the only reason that you have asked Granny here?" demanded Mrs. Vand, in a low voice. "Sarah told me that her grandson had been raving."
"You fool!" snarled the cripple. "Will you hold your tongue? I have another purpose, which you will find out shortly. Granny," he pointed to a chair, "sit down and tell us what influences are about."
Mrs. Tunks sat in the indicated chair, and lay back with closed eyes. Vand and his wife remained perfectly still, the latter gazing at the old witch in a terrified manner, as though dreading what she would say and do. The room was filled with shadows, even though three lamps were lighted, and the silence became quite oppressive. Mrs. Vand was a healthy animal, and not in the least imaginative, but after a time she felt that some evil influence was in the room, and tightly gripped her husband's hand. The perspiration broke out on her forehead. Henry gave her no comfort, not even by pressing her hand. His eyes were fixed on the perfectly expressionless and still face of Granny Tunks. The séance had all the elements of terror about it.
The gipsy lay as still as though carved out of stone, and the watchers could scarcely see the rise and fall of her breath. Deeper and deeper grew the stillness, so that even the fall of a pin could have been heard, had one been dropped. Apparently the body of Granny lay supine in the chair, but her spirit was far away—roaming the house, maybe. After a long pause, the woman began to speak in a low, expressionless voice, and almost without moving her withered lips.
"Gems," she said softly, "rare gems, blue and red and green; jewels of price and pearls of the ocean. They are in an ivory box. Long ago the woman who is standing near me"—Mrs. Vand started, looked, but could see nothing, yet the monotonous voice went on, as though the speaker really saw the form described—"wore those jewels. She has the face of a Roman empress. In Africa, many centuries ago—yes, in Africa, and she sinned to get those jewels. Now she laments that she has lost them."
"How did she lose them?" asked Vand almost in a whisper, as though fearful of breaking the charm. Apparently—as Mrs. Vand guessed—this was not the first time he had assisted at so weird a ceremony.
"Fierce warriors in green turbans took them—warriors of Arabia. The jewels travel south, still with the warriors. There are many fights. The jewels pass from one hand to another, still in the ivory box. Now a savage has them—a savage, in a wild forest. They are buried in the earth at the place where victims are sacrificed to the gods. Long years pass: centuries glide by. The box of jewels is found: it is in the hands of another savage, who wears European clothes. He gives the jewels to a white man for services rendered."
Mrs. Vand interrupted with a strangled cry of terror. "Jabez—is he Jabez?"
"He is not Jabez Huxham, but a man called Maxwell Faith. But see"—the dull voice of the gipsy suddenly became emotional and loud—"they pass into the hands of Jabez Huxham, and the hands that bear away the jewels are stained with blood. The jewels pass with him across the sea to this land. In London first; then in this house. They are placed in a carved chest; it is in the attic. Now they are in the safe in the study, and now——"
Vand interrupted. "How did they pass out of Huxham's possession?"
Granny Tunks did not reply for a few minutes, during which Mrs. Vand clutched her husband's hand still tighter, and passed her tongue over her dry lips. "They pass from Jabez Huxham, as they came to him—by murder," went on the clairvoyant. "I see the study. Huxham is at the desk, and the ivory box of jewels is before him. There is a knife on the floor by the door, and the knife is bloody."
"But Huxham is not dead," said Vand, quickly and softly.
"There is blood on the knife," said Mrs. Tunks, without taking any notice of the question. "Huxham is so engaged in looking at the jewels that he does not see the door softly open. A man enters. He sees the knife and picks it up. He glided behind Huxham, who suddenly turns. Now—now the blow has fallen, and the jewels, the jewels——" She paused.
"What more?" gasped Mrs. Vand. "What more, in God's name?"
"There is no God here, but only evil," came the reply. "I can see no more. I see, however, that the man who struck the blow is a cripple, and——"
There came a cry, apparently from behind the wall. Vand and his wife turned astonished and terror-struck. On the left of the fire-place a sliding panel was pushed back, and they beheld Bella, pale but triumphant.
"So you murdered Captain Huxham!" she cried, "you and your wife. O God——"
"There is no God here," breathed Mrs. Tunks again, "only evil."
The appearance and accusation of Bella were so unexpected that Mrs. Vand and her husband became perfectly white, and obvious fear robbed them of all powers of movement. Granny Tunks sat up, rubbed her eyes, and stared at Bella with the open panel behind her in great surprise.
"Where have you come from, deary?" she asked, rising unsteadily.
"Never mind," said Bella, with her eyes on the guilty faces of the married couple. "It is enough that I am here to accuse these two of murder."
Mrs. Tunks uttered a screech. "What are you talking about, lovey? This good gentleman and kind lady have murdered no one."
Bella glanced at her in a puzzled way. "You declared that Henry Vand murdered my father," she remarked quietly, and keeping up the fiction of her being Huxham's daughter; "you said that a cripple——"
"Me!" screeched Granny again. "I never said such a thing."
"Of course not," chimed in Vand, who was the first to recover his powers of speech. "It's all nonsense."
"Your face showed that it was the truth just now," said Bella sharply, "when Mrs. Tunks talked in her sleep."
"Sleep? No lovey, no sleep. I sent my spirit away to learn things. What did I say? Tell me, my good gentleman, what did I say?"
"I don't remember. I forgot," said Vand striving to appear cool.
"I don't forget," cried Bella indignantly, "she spoke of the jewels and of my father's murder. How did you find out?" she asked Granny Tunks, who dropped into her chair and seemed to shrink. "How did you learn about the jewels and Maxwell Faith?"
"I never heard the name. I never knew there were any jewels," murmured the witch-wife. "I never said anything about murder. When I came back to my body I never remember anything. No, no, no! The spirit is stronger than the flesh and jealous of its secrets," and she went on murmuring and maundering like one in her dotage. Yet Bella knew well, that in spite of her age, Granny Tunks was very far from being intellectually weak.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Vand, who had sunk into a chair, had gradually recovered her colour and wits. "You are the ghost!" she said suddenly to Bella.
In spite of the strained situation, the girl laughed, though not very mirthfully. "Yes, I am the ghost!" she acknowledged. "It was I who sighed and rapped and rustled my skirts so as to drive you and Sarah out of the room."
"How dare you! how dare you!" shouted Mrs. Vand, rising wrathfully. "What do you mean by entering my house, and how did you get in."
"I got in by a way of which you know nothing," said Bella coolly, "and I am not going to reveal my secret. But I know this house better than you, Aunt Rosamund"—she gave her the old familiar name—"and I know of many secret passages. This,"—she touched the panel at her back—"is the entrance to one of them. In the old days many a conspirator concealed himself here. I have used the hiding-place to learn your secret."
"How dare you! how dare you!" blustered Mrs. Vand, and would have gone on abusing Bella wrathfully but that her crafty husband interposed.
"Miss Huxham, you have behaved wrongly in entering the house in this secret manner, seeing that I told you how welcome you were to come openly. Both Rosamund and myself would have been glad to see you."
"Not me! not me!" vociferated Mrs. Vand, with a bright spot of angry red on each cheek. "I always hated her, and I hate her more than ever."
"Hold your tongue," muttered her husband, and gave her plump arm such a pinch that she leaped aside with a cry of pain. Taking no notice of her distress he turned to Bella. "You should have come openly," he repeated. "May I ask why you made use of the secret passages?"
"You may, and I am quite willing to answer. I came to find the whereabouts of the jewels which belonged to my father."
"I know of no jewels," said Vand steadily; "do you, Rosamund?"
"No, I don't," returned Mrs. Vand aggressively. "There was the property and the income, both of which Jabez left to me by arrangement. But jewels? I never saw any; if I had I should have got hold of them, since they are mine—if they exist, that is."
"Granny here said when she spoke that they existed," insisted Bella quietly.
Mrs. Vand shrugged her fat shoulders. "I don't believe in hocus-pocus and hanky-panky. Henry thought that the house was haunted, as I did myself, and he brought Granny here to lay the ghost. She has done so, since she brought you out to talk in a silly manner. You are the ghost, Bella, so I don't believe that there are any such things as spirits."
"I don't believe in spirits either," said Bella promptly, "and so I wish to know, Mrs. Tunks, how you learned all you said."
"All what?" mumbled the witch-wife vacantly.
"All about the jewels and the murder and the——"
"I don't remember saying a word," interrupted Granny, rising slowly and with a lack-lustre look in her beady eyes. "When I go into a trance I don't recall what I say. But let me go into a trance again and I'll tell you where the jewels are if you will give me a share," and her eyes began to glitter in an avaricious manner.
"No," said Vand, in his most peremptory tones, "we have had enough of this rubbish."
"Oh," sneered his wife, "you admit then that it is rubbish?"
"Yes, now that I know Miss Huxham played the ghost. Granny"—he turned to the old woman—"all your teachings of the unseen have proved false, so you can take yourself out of this house, and never come near it again."
Bella, quite believing that the old woman was a fraud, and knew the truth of what she had spoken when in her so-called trance, expected to see her defy the man she had accused. But in place of doing so Granny Tunks flung the tail of her white cloak over her head and moved towards the door. Seeing her retreat, Mrs. Vand, after the manner of bullies and cowards, became suddenly brave. Leaping towards the old creature, and before her husband could restrain her, she struck her hard once or twice between the shoulders. "Get out of this, you lying cat! Go to the devil, your master, you vile animal!"
Vand caught back his infuriated wife with a fierce oath, but Granny still continued on her way out of the room. As she passed into the dark hall she turned and sent a glance at Mrs. Vand which made that triumphant tyrant shiver in her shoes. But she did not defend herself in any way, and shortly the three in the vast drawing-room heard the front door open and shut. Granny Tunks was gone, and with her seemed to disappear the malignant influence which had hung over the house for so long. Bella did not believe in witchcraft, but she could not help thinking that the old woman must have exercised some evil spell, and now had departed taking her familiar with her. At all events, the air seemed to be clearer for her absence.
"Now then," said Vand, addressing Bella in his usual courteous way, "as you are satisfied, Miss Huxham, perhaps you will go also."
"No," said Bella determinedly. "I believe that Granny spoke truly, and that you and my aunt have something to do with the murder."
"It's a lie!" shouted Mrs. Vand furiously, and would have struck her niece, as she had struck Granny, but that Vand kept her back. "Why should I murder my own dear brother?"
"To get the heritage you now enjoy," said Bella firmly. "I don't say you actually murdered him, but——"
"I should think you didn't, indeed," raved Mrs. Vand, stamping in impotent wrath. "You heard what I said at the inquest. What I said then is true. I left this house at seven o'clock with Tunks, as he can prove. I was all the evening with Henry, as he can swear to, and he left me on the other side of the boundary channel. I came in quietly at ten and went to bed. I never knew that Jabez was dead until the next morning, and then I woke you. And as I was out of the house from seven until ten, how could I have murdered my brother—your poor dead father—when the doctor declared that he was struck down shortly after eight? How dare——"
"You forget," interrupted Bella quickly, "that Dr. Ward said the murder was committed between eight and eleven, so that gave you an hour to——"
"Grant me patience, heaven!" cried Mrs. Vand, casting up her eyes. "Why, the coroner himself said that the poor dear must have been murdered shortly after eight o'clock, since I came in at ten and saw no light in the study."
"Ah," said Bella significantly, "he declared that on your evidence and because he hated Dr. Ward, and wished to put him in the wrong."
"Then you accuse me of murder?"
"No; I accuse you of nothing."
"You say that I am guilty?" asked Vand, suddenly but quietly.
"I do not say so, but Granny Tunks did."
"If so, would she not have accused me to my face when I turned her out of the house?" said Vand earnestly. "I assure you, Miss Huxham, that I had no motive to kill your father. I was quite content to wait, even though Rosamund and I were secretly married. Besides, on that night I left Rosamund on the further side of the boundary channel, as she can prove. Also my mother can show that I returned to my home at fifteen minutes past ten, and that I was in bed by half-past. There is not a shred of evidence to support this unfounded charge you have made."
"I did not make it Granny said——"
"I know what she said," interrupted Vand imperiously. "Hold your tongue, Rosamund, and let me speak. Granny said what she did say in a trance. At one time I really believed in such things; now, and especially since our ghost has proved to be you, I have ceased to believe. You heard merely the raving of an old beldame. I dare say she wished to blackmail myself and Rosamund by bringing this unfounded charge, and chose this so-called trance to bring the charge. If she really has any grounds to go upon—and I swear that she has not—she will doubtless go to the police to-morrow."
"And I hope she will go!" cried Mrs. Vand angrily, "for then Henry and I can have her up for libel. No wonder everyone is so disagreeable! Granny, no doubt, has been spreading all manner of reports against us. I daresay we are regarded as a couple of criminal, gory, murdering assassins," ended Mrs. Vand, with a fine choice of words.
Bella was puzzled. Like the Vands themselves, she did not believe in the occult arts with which Granny Tunks was supposed to be familiar, and it was not unlikely that the clever old woman intended to risk blackmail. Certainly, if Mrs. Tunks could really prove the guilt of Vand, she would not have retreated so easily when he ordered her out of the house, much less would she have condoned the blow of Mrs. Vand. If Granny honestly could prove her case, she was mistress of the situation; but as she had slunk away so quietly, it seemed that she had merely spoken from conjecture. Bella began to think she had been too precipitate in revealing herself, as the Vands decidedly had right on their side.
"Yet, after all," she said reluctantly, "how did Granny come to know about the jewels?"
"Jewels! Had Jabez really jewels?" asked Mrs. Vand avariciously.
"Yes," said Bella coldly. "I read some papers which proved that he had jewels valued at forty thousand pounds."
"Where did you get those papers?"
"I refuse to tell you that," retorted the girl, anxious not to incriminate Mrs. Tunks until she had interviewed her.
"You must tell!" yelled Mrs. Vand, her face on fire with rage and expectation. "You've come in sneaking by these secret passages to steal. Jabez never gave you any of his papers. They are mine, and if they tell where the jewels are, you minx——"
"They don't tell where the jewels are," interrupted Bella, "but they state how Captain Huxham murdered Maxwell Faith in Nigeria to get them."
"You talk of your dead father as Captain Huxham," said Mrs. Vand sniffing.
Her husband made a gesture of silence. "Maxwell Faith was the name mentioned by Granny in her trance, and she also spoke of this murder. Did she see the papers?"
"Ah!" Bella was suddenly enlightened. Perhaps Granny had learned about the jewels from the papers which had been taken from the carved chest in the attic. But then in that first set of papers, as she thought, the name of Maxwell Faith had not been mentioned. "Granny saw one set of papers, but not the set I mean."
"Then there are other papers you have stolen," cried Mrs. Vand furiously. "Upon my word, Bella, you are a fine thief and no mistake. Give up those papers, so that we may learn where my jewels are."
"They are not your jewels, but mine," said Bella, stepping back into the hollow left by the open panel, "and you shall not have them."
"Where are they? where are they?" cried Vand, becoming excited in his turn.
"I wish I knew, but I don't. Captain Huxham had them, before he died——"
"Then the assassin must have them."
"Yes. Perhaps you can tell me who is the assassin?"
"I can't say; you know as much as we do," said Vand coldly. "If I had murdered the old man, as you were so ready to think, on Granny Tunk's ravings, I should have the jewels and long since would have cleared out with them. But the fact that I am still here with Rosamund proves that I am innocent."
"We must go and see the police to-morrow, Henry," said Mrs. Vand, "and have this wicked girl arrested. She must be made to give up the papers she has stolen. Oh!"—Mrs. Vand plunged forward—"I could scratch her eyes out!"
Undoubtedly the furious woman would have made the attempt, but that Bella was on her guard. Already in the secret passage, she had only to touch a spring and the panel sprang back into its place with a click. In the darkness Bella heard her so-called aunt hurl herself against the hard wood, using very bad language. Then came the beating of fists against the panel in the vain attempt to break it down. Bella knew that the panel was too strong to break, but thought it was best to leave the house as speedily as possible. Cyril was waiting for her near the boundary channel, and the sooner she joined him the better. As she turned to go she heard the high, screaming voice of Mrs. Vand raging wildly.
"Go up on the roof and use the search-light, Henry!" shouted Mrs. Vand. "The minx will get out of the house by some way we don't know of, and must get down the corn-path. I'll catch her there, and you show the light so that I can seize her. I'll tear her hair out! I'll scratch her eyes out! I'll make her ill, and——" what else Mrs. Vand was about to do to her, Bella did not hear, as there was no time to be lost in getting away from the dangerous neighborhood of the infuriated woman.
Bella sped along the narrow passage fearlessly, as long experience had made her acquainted with its intricacies. It was contrived in the thick dividing walls of the old house on the ground floor. At one part there was a shaft leading to another passage on the first floor, and up this it was possible to scramble by notches cut in the walls. Bella had half a mind to ascend to the upper story, and linger for a chance of escape. But as Cyril waited her at the boundary channel, it was possible that he might come into contact with Mrs. Vand, who would be furiously hunting. Therefore, she judged it best to leave the house and gain the corn-path before Mrs. Vand could intercept her. With this scheme in her mind Bella ran along the passage until she came to a door, which turned on a central pivot. This she twisted, and slipped like an eel through the opening to find herself in a kind of tiny chamber. Groping round this she soon discovered the hasp of a closed door, which she skilfully manipulated. The door—a narrow one and somewhat high—swung open, and the girl was outside in a quiet corner at the back of the house, and hidden fairly well by a projecting buttress. A screen of ivy clothed the Manor wall at this point, and the door was concealed behind the screen, so that its existence had never been suspected. Bella had discovered the exit from the inside, and had cut round the ivy that masked the door so that she could get it open. Of course, the cut ivy had more or less withered, but even so, no one guessed that there was a door behind the brownish oblong.
The night was dark and warm and silent. Bella stole along the footpath, which ran between the house and the tall, rustling stalks of the corn. Several times she paused, thinking she heard a noise, but everything was still, and she speedily turned the corner of the mansion. Apparently Mrs. Vand was not on the hunt yet, or perhaps she was busy with the search-light which she had asked her husband to use. However this might be, Bella saw that the course was clear, and stealing round to the front door, which she found to be closed, she sped like an antelope down the winding corn-path which led to the boundary channel. Just as she reached the top of this and was prepared to start down it, the beam of the electric light struck into the dark sky.
Huxham had rigged up the light on the flat roof, between the sloping tiles, but Vand had transferred it to the quarter deck, which was slung round the chimney. Thus he was enabled to sweep the whole horizon without being interrupted by the tall roofs of the Manor. The beam swung round here and there, pointing like a great finger, and finally settled on the corn-path and on Bella's dark figure running for dear life from the mansion. The girl heard Vand's shout as he espied her, heard also the front door opening, as Mrs. Vand rushed in pursuit.
But Mrs. Vand, like Hamlet, was stout and scant of breath, and with all the will in the world urged by a venomous hatred, could not gain on her detested niece, who ran like Atlanta. The search-beam revealed the path plainly, and showing the flying figure of Bella, with Mrs. Vand panting in vindictive pursuit. Towards the end of the path near the boundary channel Bella called softly and breathlessly, "Cyril! Cyril! Mrs. Vand is following. Hide! hide!"
At that moment the beam struck the boundary channel, and revealed the white-clothed figure of young Lister. It rested for a moment there, and then dropped back to aid the steps of Mrs. Vand. Cyril seized the chance of the friendly darkness, and as Bella ran into his arms he dragged her into the standing corn. In less than a moment they were lying some distance from the path amongst the crushed stalks, while Mrs. Vand blundered past, running unsteadily. If Vand had kept the beam on Bella, she and her lover would not have been able to hide, but having been forced to give light to his stout wife, the two were enabled to escape. They could hear Mrs. Vand puffing and panting like a grampus, as she searched round and round. In Cyril's arms, on Cyril's breast, Bella felt perfectly safe, and in spite of the position and of the near presence of her enemy, was bubbling over with laughter.
Mrs. Vand crossed the boundary channel, and finding no one on the hither side, concluded that Bella had escaped. She returned slowly, and, as Vand had now shut off the beam—for he also had seen that the search was vain—she stumbled up the path in a very bad temper. As her sighs and groans died away and the darkness gathered around, Cyril and Bella rose, and gliding back to the verge of the boundary channel, crossed rapidly. In a few minutes they were on their way to Marshely.
"What does it all mean, dear?" asked Cyril, when they were quite safe.
Bella told him all about her adventure.
Next morning, Dora being at school as usual, Bella received Cyril and Durgo in Miss Ankers' tiny drawing-room to discuss the position of affairs with regard to the Huxham mystery. In the negro's opinion it was no longer a mystery, for after hearing Bella's account of Granny Tunks' utterances while in the trance he unhesitatingly pronounced Henry Vand guilty.
"But on what evidence?" asked Cyril, who, like Bella, had small belief in the manifestation of the unseen.
"The evidence that Granny said that she did say," returned Durgo quietly.
"That evidence would not be accepted in a court of law," remarked Bella.
"I am aware of that. I have not been to Oxford for nothing, missy. But it gives me a clue, which I shall follow up. This afternoon I shall see Mrs. Tunks and question her."
"But if she really knows anything," said Cyril, after a pause, "it will prove that her trance statements were by design and from practical knowledge."
"I am sure they were," said Bella emphatically. "I fancied that as Granny did not see the second set of papers, which Durgo got from Mr. Pence, that she did not know the name of Maxwell Faith, my father. But now I remember that in the first set, which she found and delivered to you, Durgo, my father's name was also mentioned; also the number and the value of the jewels. All her talk was of the jewels."
"And of the murder of your real father by Huxham," said Durgo drily; "that was not in the first set of papers, and was only lightly referred to in the second set."
"That is strange," said Cyril reflectively.
"You no doubt think so," said the negro calmly, "as you disbelieve all that you can't see or prove. I know otherwise."
"But, Durgo," argued Cyril, surprised at this assumption, "you have been to Oxford, and surely must have rid yourself of these barbarous African superstitions."
"You call them superstitions because you don't know their esoteric meaning. But there is such a thing as magic, white and black."
"Magic! Pshaw!"
Durgo shrugged his shoulders. "Of course I never argue with an unbeliever, Cyril Lister," he said indifferently, "but the Wise Men came from the East, remember, and Europe is indebted to the East for most of her civilisation."
"But not to Africa."
"Africa has had her ancient civilisations also. In the time of the Atlanteans—but it's useless talking of such matters. All I say is, that there are certain natural laws which, when known, can enable anyone to part what you call the spirit from the body. When the spiritual eyes are open, much can be seen that it is difficult to prove on the physical plane."
"I don't understand what you mean by these planes," grumbled Lister.
"Quite so, and it would be useless for me to explain. But facts beyond your imagining exist, and had I the time I could prove much to you. Mrs. Tunks is what we call clairvoyant, and when in a trance state can see—well, you heard her say what she saw, Miss Huxham."
Bella was also sceptical. "She must have read the first set of papers?"
"Probably she did, since woman is an animal filled with curiosity," said Durgo good-humouredly. "I don't mean to say that Granny Tunks is entirely genuine. There is a good deal of humbug about her, as there is about all the Romany tribes. She may have known about the jewels, and even your real father's name, but she did not know about his murder. Mrs. Tunks has a small portion of clairvoyant power, which does not act at all times. When that fails her she resorts to trickery."
"Like spiritualists?" suggested Cyril.
"Exactly," assented the negro with decision. "In all phenomena connected with the unseen there is a great measure of truth, but charlatans spoil the whole business by resorting to trickery when their powers fail. And I may say that the spiritual powers do not act always, since in a great measure we are ignorant of the laws which govern them. But enough of this discussion. I do not seek to convince you. I shall see Mrs. Tunks this afternoon and gain from her actual proof of Vand's guilt."
"But I fancied that you believed my father to be guilty," said Cyril.
"So I did, and if he were I would not mind, since Huxham was a rogue. But from what Miss Faith—"
"Miss Huxham," interposed Bella hastily, "until this mystery is cleared up."
"Very good. Well, from what Miss Huxham overheard I am inclined to think that Vand murdered the old sailor, aided by his wife."
"For what reason?"
"You supplied it yourself, Miss Huxham; so that they might get his money."
"But what about Pence's confession?" said Cyril. "He might have committed the deed himself."
"No; he had no reason to kill the old man, who was on his side in the matter of the marriage with Miss Huxham here. Besides, if Pence was guilty he certainly would not have composed what he did, and assuredly would not have produced the one hundred pounds he stole. Now that his madness for Miss Huxham is past, Pence has behaved like a rational being, and will do his best to assist us in solving this mystery." Durgo paused, then turned to the white man. "Cyril Lister, you put an advertisement into several London papers a week ago?"
"Yes; I did so without telling you, as I hoped to surprise you with a letter from my father telling us of his whereabouts. How do you know?"
"I saw theTelegraphyesterday and also theDaily Mail," said Durgo, nodding approvingly; "you did well. Have you had any answer?"
"If I had you should have seen it," said Cyril, wrinkling his brows as he always did when he was perplexed. "What can have become of him?"
Durgo struck his large hands together in despair. "I fear my master Edwin Lister is dead," he said mournfully.
"Why?" asked Bella and her lover simultaneously.
"Miss Huxham, you repeated to me that Granny Tunks in her trance said that the knife lying on the floor when the cripple entered to kill Huxham, was already bloody. Can't you see?"
"See what?"
"That if the knife were already bloody, Huxham must have killed my master Edwin Lister, and then was killed in turn by Vand the cripple."
Cyril looked impatient. "That is all the black magic rubbish you talk of."
"Well, then, if my master, your father, is alive and has the jewels, why does he not write to me or to you? He knows he can trust us both. Even the advertisements have failed. No"—Durgo looked gloomy—"my heart misgives me sadly!" He arose abruptly. "Meet me at the 'Chequers,' Cyril Lister, and I shall tell you what I learn from Mrs. Tunks."
"Can't I come also to see her?"
"Yes, if you like. Perhaps I shall be able to dispel your disbelief regarding these occult powers which she and I possess."
"Is that why Mrs. Tunks calls you master?"
"Yes. She recognised that I had higher powers than she, when we first met, and so I was enabled to make her get those papers. Do you think she would have done so unless I had controlled her? No. Not even for the fifty pounds which I am taking to her to-day. She can make a better market out of Vand and his wife. She knows their guilt."
"But cannot prove their guilt."
"Perhaps," said the negro indifferently. "Good-day", and he departed in his usual abrupt style, after bidding Cyril meet him at three o'clock at the hut of the so-called witch. The lovers looked at one another.
"What do you think of it all, Cyril?" asked Bella timidly.
"I really don't know. We seem to be involved in a web through which we cannot break? Durgo certainly seems to be a very strange being, and in spite of my disbelief in the existence of occult powers I am inclined to think that he knows some strange things. He looks like a negro, and talks and acts like a white man. Indeed, no white man would be so unselfish as to surrender those jewels to you as Durgo has done."
"He puzzles me," said Bella thoughtfully.
"And me also. However, the best thing to be done will be to leave matters in his hands. In one way or another he will learn the truth, and then we can get back the jewels and marry."
"Do you think your father has the jewels, Cyril?"
"My dear," he said frowning, "I can't be sure now that my father is alive. I begin to believe that there may be something in Granny's trances, after all, since she hinted at my father's death at Huxham's hands. And terrible as it may seem," added Lister, turning slightly pale with emotion, "I would rather think that he was dead than live to be called the murderer of Jabez Huxham. I would like to come to you," he said, folding Bella in his strong young arms, "as the son of a man whose hands are free from blood. Better for my father to be dead than a criminal."
The two talked on this matter for some time, until their confidences were ended by the entrance of Dora, hungry for her dinner. Then Cyril took his leave, promising to return and tell Bella all that took place in Mrs. Tunks' hut. Being anxious, the girl made a very poor meal, and was scolded by Dora, who little knew what was at stake. But Dora supplied one unconscious piece of information which surprised her friend.
"I think Mr. and Mrs. Vand are going away for a trip," she said carelessly.
"What do you mean?" asked Bella, starting so violently that she upset the water-jug.
Dora looked surprised. "My dear, you are not so fond of your aunt as to display such emotion. I merely say that the Vands are going away."
"When? Where? How do you know?"
"Very soon, I believe, as they are packing, but where they are going I don't know. Sarah Jope, the servant, whose sister is at the school, came flying home last night to her mother with a cock and bull story about a ghost at the Manor. This morning she went to get her belongings, as she insists upon leaving the house. She found Mrs. Vand and her husband packing for immediate departure and was bundled out by her indignant mistress, boxes and all, with a flea in her ear. Sarah Jope's sister told me this just before I came home to dinner."
"The Vands going away!" said Bella in dismay. This seemed to prove that they were guilty, and wished to escape. "I thought they were going to wait for the harvest home."
"I daresay they will be back in a month, and the Bleacres corn won't be reaped until then. I only wish they would remain away altogether. Your aunt is a horrid woman, Bella, though her husband is a dear."