Mrs. Palmer dwelt in a large and imposing house, some little distance from the village, and standing back a considerable way from the Shanton Road. It had a park of fifteen acres filled with trees, smooth lawns, a straight avenue, imposing iron gates, and a lodge, so that it was quite an impressive mansion. The building itself was square, of two stories, painted white, and had many windows with green shutters. It somewhat resembled an Italian villa, and needed sunshine to bring out its good points; but in wet weather it looked miserable and dreary. It was elevated on a kind of mound, and a stone terrace ran round the front and the side. At the back were large gardens and ranges of hot-houses. Everything was kept as neat as a new pin, for Mrs. Palmer had many servants. Being rich, she could afford to indulge her fancies, and made full use of her money.
"La, dear," said Mrs. Palmer, when Eva was settled with her as companion, "what's the use of five thousand a year if you don't make yourself comfortable? I was brought up in a shabby way, as poor dead pa was a small--very small--chemist at Shanton. Palmer had his shop in Westhaven and was also in a grubbing way of business till people took to coming to Westhaven. Then property rose in value, and Palmer made money. He used to call on pa and commiserate with him about the dull trade in Shanton, where people were never sick. He advised him to move to Westhaven, but pa, losing heart after the death of ma, would not budge. Then Palmer proposed to me, and though I was in love with Jimmy Eccles at the Bank, I thought I'd marry money. Oh, dear me," sighed Mrs. Palmer looking very pretty and placid, "so here I am a widow."
"A happy widow," said Eva, smiling.
"I don't deny that, dear. Though, to be sure, the death of poor pa, and of Palmer, were blows. I was fond of both. Jimmy Eccles wanted to marry me when Palmer went, but I sent him off with a flea in his ears. It was only my money he wanted. Now he's married a freckled-faced girl, whose pa is a draper."
"I suppose you will marry again, Mrs. Palmer?"
"I suppose I will, when I get the man to suit. But I do wish, Eva dear, you would call me Constance. I'm sure you might, after being three days in the house. Call me Constance, and I'll tell you something which will please you."
"What is it, Constance?"
"There's a dear. I shan't tell you yet--it's a surprise, and perhaps you may be angry with me. But some one is coming to dinner."
"Allen?" asked Eva, her face lighting up.
"No! He's in town. At least you told me so."
Eva nodded. "Yes; he went up to town last week, after seeing Wasp."
"About that horrid murder?"
"Certainly. Allen is trying to learn who killed my father."
"It's very good of him," said the widow, fanning herself vigorously, "and I'm sure I hope he'll find out. The man who shot Mr. Strode should be hanged, or we won't sleep in our beds safe. Why, Eva, you have no idea how I tremble here at nights. This is a lonely house, and these holiday trippers might bring down burglars amongst them."
"I don't think you need fear, Constance. There have been no burglars down here. Besides, you have a footman, and a coachman, and a gardener. With three men you are quite safe."
"I'm sure I hope so, dear. But one never knows. When do you expect Mr. Hill back?"
"In a few days. I don't know what he's doing. He refuses to tell me anything until he finds some definite clue. But I have his address, and can write to him when I want to."
"His father is in town also--so Mrs. Hill told me."
"Yes, Mr. Hill went up before Allen. I believe he has gone to some sale to buy ancient musical instruments."
"Dear me," said Mrs. Palmer, "what rubbish that man does spend his money on. What's the use of buying instruments you can't play on? I dare say he'll try to, though, for Mr. Hill is the queerest man I ever set eyes on."
"Heisstrange," said Eva gravely. She did not wish to tell Mrs. Palmer that she disliked the little man, for after all he was Allen's father, and there was no need to say anything. "But Mr. Hill is very clever."
"So they say. But he worries me. He's always got some new idea in his head. I think he changes a thousand times a day. Mrs. Merry doesn't like him, but then she likes no one, not even me."
"Poor nurse," said Eva sadly, "she has had an unhappy life."
"I don't think you have had a bright one, dear; but you shall have, if I can make it so. Are you sure you have everything you want?"
"Everything," said Eva affectionately; "you are more than kind, Mrs.----"
"Constance!" cried the pretty widow in a high key.
"Constance, of course. But tell me your surprise."
Mrs. Palmer began to fidget. "I don't know if you will be pleased, after all, Eva. But if you don't like to meet him say you have a headache, and I'll entertain him myself."
"Who is it?" asked Eva, surprised at this speech.
"Lord Saltars," said Mrs. Palmer in a very small voice, and not daring to look at her companion.
Miss Strode did not reply at once. She was ill-pleased that the man should come to the house, because she did not wish to meet him. Her mother's family had done nothing for her, and even when she lost her father, Saltars, although in the neighbourhood, had not been kind enough to call. Eva met him once, and, as she had told Mrs. Palmer, did not like his free and easy manner. However, it was not her place to object to Saltars coming. This was not her house, and she was merely a paid companion. This being the case, she overcame her momentary resentment and resolved to make the best of the position. She did this the more especially as she knew that Mrs. Palmer had only been actuated in inviting Saltars by her worship of rank. "I shall be quite pleased to meet my cousin," said Eva.
"I hope you are not annoyed, Eva."
"I am not exactly pleased, but this is your house, and----"
"Oh, please--please don't speak like that," cried the widow, "you make me feel so cheap. And the fact is--I may as well confess it--Lord Saltars, knowing you were with me, for I told my Shanton friends and they told him, asked if I would invite him to dinner."
"To meet me, I suppose?"
"I fancy so. But why don't you like him, Eva He's a very nice man."
"Not the kind of man I care about," replied Eva, rising; "however, Mrs. Palmer, I'll meet him. It's time to dress now." She glanced at the clock. "At what time does he arrive?"
"At seven. He's at Shanton."
"Ah! Is the circus there again?"
"Yes. It is paying a return visit. But I know you're angry with me, dear--you call me Mrs. Palmer."
"Very well, then, Constance," said Eva, and kissing the pouting widow she escaped to her own room.
Mrs. Palmer was kind and generous, and made her position more pleasant than she expected. But Mrs. Palmer was also foolish in many ways, particularly in her worship of rank. Because Lord Saltars had a title she was willing to overlook his deficiencies, though he was neither intellectual nor amusing. Eva really liked Mrs. Palmer and felt indebted to her, but she wished the widow's good taste had led her to refuse Saltars permission to call. But there--as Mrs. Merry would say--Mrs. Palmer not being a gentlewoman had no inherent good taste. But for her kind heart she would have been intolerable. However, Eva hoped to improve her into something better, by gentle means, though Constance with her loud tastes and patent tuft-hunting was a difficult subject.
As she was in mourning for her father, Eva dressed in the same black gauze gown in which she had hoped to welcome him, but without any touch of colour on this occasion. As she went down the stairs, she hoped that Mrs. Palmer would be in the room to welcome her noble visitor, so as to save the embarrassment of atête-à-tête.. But Mrs. Palmer was one of those women who never know the value of time, and when Eva entered the drawing-room she found herself greeted by a short, square-built jovial-looking man of forty. Saltars was perfectly dressed and looked a gentleman, but his small grey eyes, his red, clean-shaven face and remarkably closely clipped hair did not, on the whole, make up a good-looking man. As soon as he saw Eva, he strolled forward calmly and eyed her critically.
"How are you, Miss Strode?--or shall I say Cousin Eva?"
"I think Miss Strode is sufficient," said Eva, seating herself. "I am sorry Mrs. Palmer is not down yet."
"By Jove, I'm not," said Saltars, taking possession of a near chair. "I want to have a talk with you."
"This is hardly the hour or the place."
"Come now, Miss Strode--if you will insist on being so stiff--you needn't be too hard on a chap. I know I should have called, and I quite intended to do so, but I had reasons----"
"I don't ask for your reasons, Lord Saltars."
The man clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "We don't seem to get on," he said at length, "yet I wish to be friendly. See here, I want my mother to call and see you."
"If Lady Ipsen calls, I shall be pleased."
"In a society way, but you won't be heart-pleased."
"No," said Eva, very decidedly; "how can you expect me to? Your family has not treated me or my dead father well."
"Your father----" Saltars clicked again and seemed on the point of saying something uncomplimentary of the dead; but a gleam in his companion's eye made him change his mind. "I know you've been a bit neglected, and I'm very sorry it should be so," said he bluntly. "I assure you that it was always my wish you should be invited to stop with us in Buckinghamshire. And my father was in favour of it too."
"But Lady Ipsen wasn't," said Eva coolly; "don't trouble to apologise, Lord Saltars, I should not have gone in any case."
"No, by Jove, I can see that. You're as proud as a peacock--just like the portrait of Lady Barbara Delham who lived in Queen Anne's reign. And she was a Tartar."
Eva began to smile. Saltars was amusing. She saw that he was simply a thoughtless man, who lived for himself alone. He apparently wished to be friendly, so as Eva had no real grudge against him, she unbent.
"I don't think we need quarrel," she said.
"No, by Jove. But I shan't. Any quarrelling that is to be done must be on your side. There's enough in our family as it is. You should hear how my mother and the dowager Lady Ipsen fight: but then the dowager is a dreadful old cat," he finished candidly.
"I have never seen her."
"You wouldn't forget her if you did. She's beaked like a parrot, and talks like one. She and I don't hit it off. She's one of what they call the old school, whatever that means, and she thinks I'm a low person--like a groom. What do you think?"
Lord Saltars was not unlike a groom in some ways, but his good nature and candour amused Eva. "I am not a person to judge," she said, smiling.
"By Jove, you might have been, though," said he, fixing his small grey eyes on her; "supposing you became Lady Saltars?"
"There's not the slightest chance of that," said Eva coldly.
"There isn't now: but there might have been. And after all, why not now, if things are what your father said they were?"
Miss Strode drew herself up. She thought he was going too far. "I really don't know what you mean. I am engaged to be married."
"I know; to a fellow called Hill. Your father told me."
"Lord Saltars, did you meet my father after he came home?"
"Of course I did. He called to see me when he came to London, and corresponded with me long before that. I say, do you remember when I came to see you at Wargrove?"
"Yes. We did not get on well together."
"By Jove, no more we did! That was a pity, because I came to see what kind of a wife you'd make."
"You're very kind," said Eva indignantly, "but I'm not on the market to be examined like a horse."
"Haw--haw," laughed the other, slapping his knee, "that's the kind of thing the dowager would say. Don't get waxy, Eva--Miss Strode then, though I wish you'd call me Herbert and I'd call you Eva."
"I shall call you Lord Saltars."
"Saltars without the confounded lord," urged the man pertinaciously.
"No; go on. What were you saying? Yes, that you came to see what sort of a wife I'd make. Who told you to?"
"Your father."
"I don't believe it."
"It's true, though. Your father wanted you to marry me. He kept writing to me from South Africa to keep me up to the scratch, and said he was gathering a fortune for us both. When he came home he called on me and told me you had some folly in your head about this chap Hill, and----"
Eva rose indignantly, "Lord Saltars," she said calmly and distinctly, "I don't allow any one to talk to me in this way. My engagement to Mr. Allen Hill is not a folly. And I don't see why my father should have talked to you about it."
"Because he wanted me to marry you," said Saltars, rising and following her to the fireplace.
Eva placed one slippered foot on the fender, and an elbow on the mantelpiece. She looked angry, but extremely pretty and well-bred. Saltars adopted the same attitude opposite her and looked more like a groom than ever. But the expression of his face was so good-natured that Eva could not feel as angry as she ought to have done.
"I should never have married you," she said, her colour deepening. "I understand that you have other views."
Saltars grew red in his turn. "It's that boy Cain's been talking," he said; "I'll break his head."
"That is for you and Cain to decide," said Miss Strode indifferently, "but you can quite understand why I don't discuss these things."
Saltars kicked the fender sulkily. "I wish you would be more friendly, Eva," he said. "I need a friend, and so, by Jove, do you."
"How can I befriend you?"
"Well, I'm in love with Miss Lorry, and there will be a shine if I marry her. She's perfectly straight and----"
"I don't want to hear about her," said Eva angrily, "and if you were a gentlemen you wouldn't talk to me of that sort of person."
"She's a perfectly decent sort," said Saltars, angry in his turn, "I intend to make her my wife."
"That has nothing to do with me. And I wish you'd drop this conversation, Lord Saltars. It doesn't interest me. I am quite willing to be friends. Your manner is absurd, but you mean well. Come," and she held out her hand.
Saltars took it with a long breath. "Just like the dowager," said he, "just as nippy. I'd like to see you have a turn up with old Lady Ipsen."
"Well, then," said Eva, "now we are friends and you promise not to talk nonsense to me, tell me what you mean by my father making a fortune for me."
"For both of us, by Jove," said his lordship; "you were to be Lady Saltars, and then we were to have forty thousand pounds."
"But my father didn't leave me a penny," said Eva.
"That's what I wish to see you about," said Saltars earnestly. "I heard from Mrs. Palmer's friends that you were without money, and were her companion, so I wrote asking to come to-night. I want to be your friend and help you. You ought to have forty thousand pounds."
"How do you know that?"
"Because I saw your father twice before he was killed: within the last six weeks. He told me that he had brought home forty thousand pounds. Twice he told me that; but he did not say how it was invested. I expect his lawyer, Mask, can tell you. He's my lawyer too."
"Mr. Mask told me that I inherited no money."
"Yet your father saw him," said the perplexed Saltars.
"I know he did; but he said nothing about forty thousand pounds. I know that he told Mr. Mask he would place some money in his keeping, without mentioning the amount, but he never did so."
"Didn't you find the money in his portmanteau or box, or----?"
"We found nothing; nor did we find any papers mentioning that such a sum of money was in existence."
"Then he must have been robbed of it, when dead."
Eva shook her head. "Nothing was taken out of his pockets. His money, his jewellery, his watch--nothing was taken."
"Queer," said Saltars. "Did you find in his pockets a large blue pocket-book with his crest on it, stamped in gold?"
"No. When did you see that?"
"When he was talking to me. I was hard up. I don't mind saying," said Saltars frankly, "that I'm always hard up. As your father looked upon me as his intended son-in-law, he gave me a pony, and took the notes out of the blue pocket-book. He carried his money there."
"He would scarcely carry forty thousand pounds there."
"No; but he might have carried a letter of credit for that amount. Or at least he would have some memorandum of such a large sum. If any notes were stolen with the pocket-book, you can trace those by the numbers when the murderer presents them, and then the beast will be caught. But the forty thousand----"
"Stop--stop," said Eva, my head is in a whirl. "Are you sure?"
"Perfectly; I was to marry you, and then we were to get the money. And I may tell you that your father said, more would come to us when he died. Depend upon it, Eva, the murder was committed for the sake of that money."
"I wonder if my father meant diamonds?" said Eva.
Saltars started. "By Jove, I shouldn't wonder," he said eagerly, "he would bring diamonds from South Africa as the easiest way to carry such a large sum. Perhaps he had the diamonds in his pocket and they were stolen."
"I must tell Allen this."
"Who is Allen?--oh, young Hill! Don't deny it. I can see it in your face, it's the lucky man. And by Jove he is. I don't see why I should surrender you. Your father wished us to marry----"
"You go too fast, Lord Saltars. Remember Miss Lorry."
Saltars would have said something more but that the door opened and Mrs. Palmer, fastening her glove, sailed in. "Not a word of the diamonds to any one," said Eva hurriedly.
"Not a word," said Saltars in a low voice, then raised it gaily--"How are you, Mrs. Palmer? My cousin and I have been talking"--he looked at Eva inquiringly, his invention failing him--"About--about----"
"Chinese metaphysics," said the feminine intellect.
Lord Saltars spent a very enjoyable evening in the company of two pretty women. Eva had no chance of further conversation, as Mrs. Palmer made the most of her noble guest. She sang to him, she chattered to him, she did all that a lively woman could do to amuse him. In fact, it seemed to Eva as though the widow was trying to fascinate his lordship. Saltars, no fool, saw this also.
"But it won't do," chuckled the guest, as he drove back to Shanton in a smart dog-cart. "She's a pretty, saucy little woman that widow, and has money, too, though not enough for me to marry her on. Then Eva's worth a dozen of her, for looks and breeding. But then she's got no money, and I can't afford to marry poverty. Of course that forty thousand pounds might turn up, but on the other hand it might not. Finally, there's Bell Lorry! Ugh!" his lordship shivered. "I'm not so gone on her as I was; yet there's something infernally taking about Bell. She's a fine woman--with a temper. But she's got no money, and no birth, and precious little character, I should say. I'm not going to marry her, though she thinks so. But it will be the deuce's own job to get rid of her."
Saltars argued this way until he arrived at Shanton. Then he delivered the reins to his groom at the door of the Queen's Hotel, where he was stopping, and rang the bell. It was after twelve o'clock, and a fine starry night. But the chill in the air made Saltars pull up the collar of his overcoat and grumble. He was anxious for his bed and a glass of steaming grog. He got the last, but he was prevented from getting to the first by reason of a visitor. On ascending to his sitting-room he was met by a sleepy waiter.
"Your lordship," said this individual, "there's a lady waiting to see your lordship in your lordship's room."
"What, at this hour! It's not respectable."
"So the landlady told her, your lordship, but she said that she would do what she liked, and threatened to make a scene. Mrs. Cowper then thought it would be best to let her stay. She's waiting upstairs--the lady, I mean, your lordship--and is in a fine rage."
"It sounds like Bell," thought Saltars, and dismissed the old waiter, who went back to tell the night-porter he was going to bed. But the night-porter persuaded him to remain up for a time.
"There's going to be a row with that wench," said the night-porter; "she's a circus-rider--Miss Lorry by name, and has a temper of her own. I think she'll give it to his lordship hot. I wonder Mrs. Cowper don't object to such goings on."
So the two men, waiter and night-porter, remained below while Saltars, fully aware from the description that his visitor was Miss Lorry, entered the room prepared for a storm. The lady was seated in a chair near the table, and was drinking champagne which she had ordered at his expense. She was a fine-looking woman of mature age, and was expensively dressed in blue silk. Her arms and neck were bare, and she wore many jewels. As she was of the Junoesque order of woman, she looked remarkably well. Her cheeks were flushed, but whether from the champagne or from rage it was impossible to say. Probably a mixture of both gave her the high colour she wore, when she looked up to see Saltars enter.
In spite of this description and of the lateness of the hour, and of the lady's loud manner, it must not be thought that Miss Lorry was anything but a thoroughly decent woman--if somewhat of a Bohemian. She was known as an accomplished rider throughout the length and breadth of the three kingdoms, and no one had a word to say against her character. She was certainly fond of wine, but kept her liking for that within due bounds, as a rule. She was also kind-hearted, charitable, and generous. Many a man and woman connected with the circus, and with the sawdust profession as a whole, had cause to remember Miss Lorry's kind heart. Bohemian as she was, the woman was really good and true and had many noble instincts. Saltars might have done worse than marry her, in spite of her birth, and profession, and years--for she certainly was older than he was. But Saltars, with his shallow instincts, looked on the outward beauty of Bell Lorry somewhat coarsened by age and her hard life. He had not the penetration to see the real, true, kindly, noble soul she possessed. And then it must be confessed that Miss Lorry masked her many good qualities by indulging on the least provocation in royal rages. When blind with passion, she was capable of anything.
"Oh," said she, tossing her head, "so you're back!"
"Just so," replied Saltars, taking off his overcoat and tossing it on to the sofa. "I didn't expect to find you here--it's after twelve--really you should not, you know, for your own sake. People will talk, and the landlady here is no angel."
Miss Lorry snapped her fingers and drank some wine. "That for the landlady," she said coolly, "so long as my conscience is clear, I'm not afraid of what people say. And I couldn't go to bed without seeing you. The circus leaves for Chelmsford tomorrow."
"But you needn't go with it," said Saltars, lighting a cigarette. "I daresay we can have a talk tomorrow before you go?"
"We must have a talk to-night and an understanding too," snapped the woman, her eyes blazing. "Look here, Lord Saltars, what do you mean by going after that girl?"
"What girl?" asked his lordship, taking a seat.
"You know well enough. You've been over to Wargrove to dine with that Mrs. Palmer, and Miss Strode is with her as a companion."
"You seem to know all about it, Bell."
"Don't call me Bell. I've never given you permission to call me by my christian name. I always call you Lord Saltars and not Herbert. You can't say a word against me."
"I don't want to, but----"
"I shan't listen to your remarks," said Miss Lorry in a rage; "you think because I'm a circus-rider that I've got no pride and no decency. But I'd have your lordship know that I'm a respectable woman, and there's no mud can be thrown at me. You asked me to marry you, and I said I would. Is that so?"
"Yes, but----"
"Hold your tongue. If that is so, what right have you to go after that girl? She's a nice girl and a decent girl, and a lady, which I am not. All the same, you shan't spoil her life."
Saltars raised his eyebrows. "I have no intention of spoiling her life. She's my cousin, if you remember----"
"Oh, I know. But you're just the sort of man to make love to her, and break her heart. And as you're engaged to marry me, I shan't have it. So you look out, Mr. Herbert Delham, or Lord Saltars, or whatever you call yourself."
"I wouldn't get in a rage over nothing, if I were you," said Saltars coolly, "and I shouldn't drink more of that wine either. It only excites you. Try this," he tossed her a cigarette, "it may calm your nerves."
"My nerves are my own to do what I like with. And if you had my nerves you might talk. It isn't a nervous woman who can ride and control a savage stallion like White Robin."
"That horse will kill you some day," said Saltars; "he's got the temper of a fiend."
"So have I when roused, so don't you make me angry."
"You're not very good-tempered now. Try the cigarette."
"I'll smoke if you hand me one properly and light it for me. I do not take things thrown to me as if I were a dog."
Lord Saltars rose and produced another cigarette--the one he threw was lying on the table. He offered this to Miss Lorry with a bow, and then gravely lighted a match. In another minute the smoke was curling from her full lips, and she calmed down. Saltars returned to his seat and lighted a new roll of tobacco with the stump of his old cigarette. "How did you know I went to Shanton to-night?"
"Cain told me. Yes, and he told me about Miss Strode being Mrs. Palmer's companion. He went to-day to see his mother, with whom Miss Strode lived. She--the mother, I mean--knew that you were going to Mrs. Palmer's to-night, as Mrs. Palmer told her."
"I wonder Mrs. Palmer took the trouble," said Saltars coolly. "My movements seem to interest her, and this Mrs. Merry and Cain. I'll break that young man's head if he spies on me."
"You'll have to reckon with Signor Antonio if you do, and, as he's the Strong Man of our show, you'll get the worst of it."
"Great strength doesn't usually mean science. And I think I can put up my flippers with any man."
"You're a brute," said Miss Lorry, with an admiring glance at Saltars' sullen strength, which was what attracted her; "no one would take you to be a nobleman."
"As to Signor Antonio," went on Saltars, taking no notice of the compliment, "he's not an Italian in spite of his dark looks and broken English. He's a half-bred gipsy mumper, and a blackguard at that. You seem to know him pretty well, Miss Lorry. I can't say I admire your choice of acquaintances."
"I know you," she retorted, "so you're the last person to talk. As to Antonio, he's been with the show for years, and I'm always friendly with fellow artistes. He's a brute, as you are: but he daren't show his teeth to me."
"He shows them to Cain often enough."
"He's fond of the boy all the same, and he's the----" here Miss Lorry checked herself; "well it doesn't matter. I didn't come here to talk about Antonio. It's getting late, and I want to go to my room. I'm lodging in the next house."
"You should have left a message asking me to call."
"I dare say, and you'd have come, wouldn't you?"
"But here at this hour your reputation----"
"Leave my reputation alone," cried Miss Lorry in a rage, "it's better than yours. I'd like to see any one say a word again me. I'd have the law of him or her--if you're thinking of that white-faced cat the landlady. But see here, about Miss Strode----"
"Don't say anything about Miss Strode. I called, as her cousin. There's no chance of my marrying her."
"Mr. Strode said otherwise."
"You didn't know Strode," said Saltars, starting and looking puzzled.
"Oh, didn't I though?" jeered Miss Lorry; "well, I just did. Six years ago I knew him. He came to the circus, behind the scenes, I mean, to see Signor Antonio. He spotted Antonio performing in the ring and recognised an old friend. So he called after the performance and was introduced to me. I knew him again when he came to the circus when we were near London. He came to see you then."
"I know he did. Strode called at my digs and found from my man that I'd gone to the circus. As he wished to see me before he went to Wargrove, he followed me to the show. But I didn't know you spoke to him, or even knew him."
"He came to see me on his own," said Miss Lorry, frowning, "when you were talking to Stag. We had a conversation, and he said you were going to marry Miss Strode----"
"Well, I wasn't engaged to you then."
"You're not engaged now unless I choose to," said the woman coolly, "but you were making love to me, and I told Mr. Strode that I had a claim on you. He lost his temper and said you had promised to marry his daughter."
"If I had, I would hardly have proposed to you," said Saltars diplomatically.
"Oh, I don't know. You do exactly what suits you. And if Mr. Strode had lived he might have induced you to throw me over and marry Miss Strode. But he's dead, whosoever killed him, poor man, and you're engaged to me. Do you intend to marry me or not?"
"Well I want to, but there's no money."
"How do you know there's no money? I've got my savings. Yes, you may look; but I'm no spendthrift. I have enough invested to bring me in five hundred a year, and many a year I've worked to get the money together. We can live on that and with what your father will allow you."
"My father won't allow me a penny if I marry you."
Miss Lorry rose calmly. "Very good. If you're going to take that line, let us part. I shan't see you again after to-night."
But Saltars was not going to let her go so easily. He really loved this woman, while his liking for Eva was only a passing fancy begotten of her dead father's schemes. Often, when away from Miss Lorry did he curse himself for a fool, and decide to break his chains, but when in her presence the magnetism of the woman asserted itself. Her bold, free, fiery spirit appealed to Saltars greatly: also she was a splendid horsewoman and could talk wisely about the stables. Saltars loved horses more than anything in life save this woman, and her conversation was always within his comprehension. Moreover, during all the time of their courting she had never allowed him to even kiss her, always asserting that she was a respectable woman. Consequently as the fruit was dangling just out of Saltars' reach and only to be obtained by marriage, he was the more anxious to pluck it. Finally, Bell was really a magnificent-looking woman in a bold way, and this also appealed to the susceptible nature of Saltars.
"Don't go, Bell," he said, catching her dress as she moved to the door. Whereat she turned on him.
"Leave me alone, Lord Saltars, and call me Miss Lorry. I won't have you take liberties. Either you love me and will marry me openly in a decent church, or we part. I'm not going to have mud thrown on my good name for you or any one."
"You know that I love you----"
"I know nothing of the sort. If you did, you'd not go after your cousin; not that I've a word to say against her, though she did treat me like dirt when we spoke at Wargrove."
"I only went to see my cousin about the money left by her father."
Miss Lorry turned and leaned against the wall near the door. "There was no money left," she said sharply. "Mrs. Merry told Cain, and he told me. The poor girl has to go out as a companion."
"I know. But there is money. Strode told me that he would give her and me forty thousand pounds if we married."
"Very well, then," said Miss Lorry, her eyes flashing; "why don't you go and marry her? I won't stop you."
"Because, in the first place, I love you; in the second, she has not got the money and don't know where it is; and in the third, she is engaged to a fellow called Hill."
"Allen Hill?" said Miss Lorry; "yes, I remember him. He told me he was engaged when we spoke at the gate of the cottage. A nice young fellow and quite the man. I love a man," said Miss Lorry admiringly, "and that chap has a man's eye in his head, I can tell you."
"What about me?"
"Oh, you're a man right enough, or I shouldn't have taken up with you. But I say, if Miss Strode's engaged to Hill why doesn't she marry him now that the father's dead and there's no obstacle?"
"I don't know why the marriage doesn't take place," said Saltars pondering, "but I think it is because there's no money."
"There's the forty thousand pounds."
"That can't be found, and there's no memorandum amongst the papers of Strode likely to say where it is. I expect he brought the money home from Africa in the form of diamonds, and hid them somewhere."
Miss Lorry changed colour. "Oh," she said thoughtfully, and then went on rapidly, "If this forty thousand pounds comes to Miss Strode, I suppose she'd marry Hill."
"Rather. She seems very fond of him."
"He's worth being fond of! he's a man I tell you, Saltars. Humph! I wonder if the money can be found?"
"There doesn't seem to be much chance."
"Do you think the money is locked up in diamonds?"
"It might be. As no money was found, Strode might have brought home his fortune in that form."
"I read the papers about the inquest," said Miss Lorry, staring at the ground; "what about that lawyer?"
"Mask? Oh, he knows nothing. He said so at the inquest."
"I wonder if the wooden hand has anything to do with the matter?"
"Well," said Saltars, rising and yawning, "it was certainly stolen, so it would seem it had a value. Of course if the hand was sent to Mask it was to be a sign that he had to give up any money he might have. It might have been stolen for that purpose."
"Yes, and the man might have been murdered to obtain possession of it."
"I don't think so. If Strode had been murdered on that account, the hand would have been stolen when the body was lying in the Red Deeps."
"It was stolen when it lay in the cottage," said Miss Lorry, "I remember. And Mask said that he had no money of Strode's, so there's not much use of the hand being sent to him. It's all very queer."
"Do you intend to try and unravel the mystery of the death?"
"Why not? I'd like that girl married to Hill and out of my way. I don't intend to let her marry you. So good-night," and Miss Lorry marched off without a word more.
Cain Merry was a particular pet of Miss Lorry's, and the lad felt grateful to her for the attention. He admired her exceedingly, and at one time had fancied himself in love with her. But Miss Lorry, experienced in admirers, laughed at him the moment she descried the early symptoms, and told him she was old enough to be his mother. It was creditable to Cain that he took the hint thus given, and devoted himself to Jane Wasp, with whom he had been in love ever since they attended the same board school. And after his passing fancy for Miss Lorry, the lad's love for the policeman's daughter became even more marked, much to the joy of Jane, who adored the dark-eyed scamp, and lost no opportunity of meeting him.
But Cain was such a Bohemian, that this was no easy matter. Owing to the nagging of his mother, he stayed away from Misery Castle as much as he could, and got jobs in the surrounding country and in London. Also there was some influence at work on Cain's character, which Jane could not understand: something that made him moody and inclined him to despair. In her simple way Jane tried to learn what it was, that she might comfort him, but Cain always baffled her.
On the morning after Miss Lorry's interview with Saltars, the lad was more dismal than usual, and was rather listless in his work. As the circus was packing up to move on to Chelmsford, there was little time to be lost, and Cain came in for many a hard word. At length the manager became exasperated at his indolence, and sent him off with a message to Miss Lorry, who had rooms near the Queen's Hotel. Nothing loath to be relieved from moving heavy beams, and taking down the large tent, Cain set off in better spirits.
On passing through the market place about ten o'clock he saw Jane, perched on a light market cart, and ran towards her with a bright face. The girl received him with a joyful cry, and explained that she had been looking for him for the past hour.
"Mrs. Whiffles drove me over," she explained, getting down to speak more freely; "she keeps the Wargrove inn, you know----"
"Of course I know," said Cain quickly; "I'm Wargrove as well as you, Jane. But how did your father let you go. I thought he was keeping you in, to help your mother."
"Ah, he does that," said Jane with a sigh; "father's a hard one, Cain, and hates you like poison. You see he's all for the law, and you----"
"And I'm a vagabond, as my mother says. Well, Jane, don't you fret, I'm getting a higher law than that your father serves. I'll tell you about it some day. How did you come over?"
"I told you. I came with Mrs. Whiffles. Mother wanted some things here, and as Mrs. Whiffles was going, she thought I might come too. I shan't tell father anything, nor will mother. He's out till two, and we must be back before then. But mother wouldn't have let me come had she known the circus was here, Cain. She says I'm not to think of you at all. I'm to go out to service."
"We may marry before you do that," said Cain quickly; "how did you know the circus was here?"
"Mr. Hill's groom Jacobs told me."
"Oh!" Cain frowned. "You're too thick with that Harry Jacobs."
"I've known him all my life, Cain."
"So have I, and I don't like him. He thinks he's every one, because he wears a smart livery. I wear just as smart a one in the circus."
"Yes, but the circus ain't decent, Cain. I could never marry you if you kept on there. I couldn't go about as you do, and if you're to be my husband I'd like to be near you."
"You shall be near me, and we'll marry to take service in something better than a circus," said Cain, his face lighting up.
"What's that?"
Cain drew near and was about to speak, when his ear was suddenly seized by a large dark man, who frowned. "Why aren't you seeing Miss Lorry, you young scamp?" said the stranger. "I've got to do your business. Mr. Stag asked you particularly to give that note. Hand it over."
"I'll take it now," said Cain, getting free; "leave my ear alone."
"You give the note to me, Cain. Who is this?" and he looked at Jane.
"She's a friend of mine from Wargrove," said Cain sulkily; "get back into the cart, Jane."
"From Wargrove?" said the dark man with a queer smile; "and her name?"
"I'm Jane Wasp, sir," said the girl, looking into the man's somewhat brutal face.
The man laughed. "Policeman Wasp's daughter, as I'm a sinner. How's your fool of a father? Catching every one he shouldn't catch, I suppose? He was always too clever."
Cain interposed. "Leave her alone fa----, I mean Signor Antonio," he said, "she's going home."
Signor Antonio turned on him with a snarl. "Hold your tongue, you whelp," he said, "I'll talk to whom I like and as long as I like. I want to know what Policeman Wasp's doing now?"
"He's looking after the murderer of Mr. Strode," said Jane politely.
The man started and laughed. "I hope he'll catch him: but it's a business rather beyond his powers, I fancy. Stop, you're the girl who delivered the package to Mr. Hill."
"To young Mr. Hill," said Jane, climbing into Mrs. Whiffles cart, "not to the father."
Signor Antonio turned on the boy with a frown. "I told you it was to be given to Mr. Hill himself."
"Well, he got it right enough," said Cain impatiently. "I gave it to Jane at Colchester, and she took it to Mr. Allen, who gave it to his father."
"And what happened?"
"I don't know," said Jane. "I didn't see Mr. Hill get it."
"You fool," cried Antonio turning on Cain with another snarl. "I wanted the girl to report how Hill looked when he opened the package, and now----"
"Jane's got nothing to do with this business," said Cain resolutely, "and I won't have her mixed up in your affairs."
"Do you know who I am?" demanded the man, black with anger.
"Yes," replied the boy with a queer look; "you're Signor Antonio."
Jane thought she would interfere as there seemed to be a chance of a quarrel. "Mr. Hill went to London after he got the parcel."
"On the same day?" asked the man eagerly.
"Yes, sir. Jacobs, who drives him, told me he went within two hours after he opened the parcel. He's gone up to attend a sale----"
"Oh," sneered Signor Antonio, "so he's gone to attend a sale? Very good, that's all right. The parcel was a notice about a sale----"
"Of musical instruments, I know, sir. Jacobs told me."
"You speak too much to Jacobs," cried Cain; "remember you're engaged to marry me, Jane."
"Stuff and nonsense," said Signor Antonio, who in spite of his Italian name and looks did not speak his own language; "you'll not marry the girl."
"But I shall," said Cain, setting his teeth; "mind your own business."
"Thisismy business, you brat----"
"Jane," said Cain pointing to the hotel, "yonder is Mrs. Whiffles waving to you. Drive over. I'll send you my address, and you can write to me. Goodbye, dear."
He would have climbed on the cart and kissed her, but that the so-called Italian drew him back. Jane, rather started and puzzled by the dominion this stranger seemed to exercise over Cain, drove hastily away to the curb where fat Mrs. Whiffles stood waving her fat arms. She looked back to see Cain and Antonio in fierce conversation, and dreaded a quarrel.
And indeed there would have been a quarrel but for the boy's self-possession. Cain appeared to have far more command of his temper than the older man, and spoke quietly enough. "See here," he said, "I won't have you interfering with my affairs."
"Do you know who I am?" demanded Antonio again.
"You asked me that before and in public," said Cain, "and I told you, you were Signor Antonio. But you know well enough what you are and so do I."
"And what am I?" jeered Antonio.
"You're the man that deserted his wife and child, and your name is Giles Merry."
"Yes, it is, and don't you talk of deserting, you brat. I'm your father, so you look out. I'll thrash you."
"Oh no, you won't," said Cain boldly, "I'm quite equal to standing up to you, father. Leave my business alone, I've put up with you ever since we met a year ago, and I did what you wanted because you promised me not to go near my mother. I learn that you have written that you intend to call on her."
"What if I do? She's my wife as you're my son. She's got a house over her head, and money, and I've got a right to share both."
"No, you haven't," said Cain sharply, "you're no father of mine, as you deserted me and mother when we were poor. Now that we've got money, you'd come and make mother miserable. I kept my part of the bargain, so you keep to yours. If you write mother again or go near her, I'll make things hot."
Antonio made a dash at the boy--they were now in a quiet side street--and gasped with rage. "You unnatural young cuckoo----"
"Leave me alone, father, or I'll sing out for the police."
"What!" Antonio, finding force would not do, began to whine, "you'd run in your poor old father?"
"I don't want to," said Cain, "but if you force me to, I must. All I ask is for you to keep away from mother, and leave me alone. If you don't, I'll tell Wasp something he may like to hear."
The older man turned pale through his swarthy skin. "What will you tell him?" he asked in a thick voice.
"Never you mind. But I know you saw Mr. Strode when he came to the circus that night after Lord Saltars. Then there's Butsey----"
"What about Butsey?" asked the father uneasily, and glaring.
"Nothing. Only he's a bad lot. I'm no great shakes myself," admitted Cain sadly, "but I'm beginning to see how wicked I am. If I was as bad as Butsey, father, I'd not treat you like this. You sent Butsey with a lying message to mother----"
"I wanted to know how she looked."
"No, you didn't. I believe you sent Butsey to steal that wooden hand."
"It's a lie. I don't know who took it."
"I believe Butsey did, though why you wanted it I don't know. And what is there between you and Mr. Hill, father, seeing you sent him that cross?"
"That's my business," growled Antonio, finding his son knew too much for him; "you hold your tongue."
"I will, as long as you keep away from my mother."
"Lord, I'll keep away," said Antonio good-humouredly. "I don't want to live with her nagging and whimpering. You're her son, sure enough--a young prig going against your lawful father."
"Only for my mother's sake. And you want me to do wrong. I'm seeing light, father, and I'm changing."
"What do you mean by seeing light? You're always saying that."
"I've been to the Salvation Army meetings," said Cain solemnly, "and I see what a sinner I am."
"Oh, you're going to turn parson, are you? Well, you can do what you like, but hold your tongue about my business."
"I'll do so. But tell me, father?" Cain looked anxiously into the brutal face, "had you anything to do with that murder?"
Antonio glared and looked like a devil. He made another dash at the boy, but at that moment three or four men came round the corner, and amongst them a policeman. At once Antonio burst out into a loud laugh and took to his broken English. "Ver' goot, my leetle boy, gif me the letter. I go to Mees Lorry. Ah, Dio!"
Cain saw that he would not receive a reply to his terrible question just then, so, glad to get away on the chance of having another talk with Jane, he escaped. Hardly had he turned the corner when his father was after him, and a deep voice breathed in his ear:
"I had nothing to do with that," said Antonio anxiously; "I'm bad, but not so bad as that. I don't know who killed the man. Go"--a push sent the boy reeling--"and hold your tongue. I'll keep my part of the bargain and leave your mother alone. Keep yours," and before Cain could recover his breath Antonio was ringing the bell of Miss Lorry's lodgings.
That lady was just up and at breakfast. Antonio was shown into her sitting-room, and found her drinking coffee. She saluted him with a smile. "Well, Giles, what's brought you here at this hour?"
"This letter from Stag," said Antonio, giving the note he had received from Cain; "and don't call me Giles, Bell."
"You seem very much afraid of people knowing you," she jeered, opening the envelope, and running her eyes over the letter. "Stag wants me to make another contract for the North." She threw down the note. "Well then, I won't."
"What are you going to do, then?"
"Go to London and marry Lord Saltars."
"He means business, then?"
Miss Lorry rose, and looked as though she would slap Antonio's face. "You hound," she hissed, "do you think I'd let any man play fast and loose with me. Not a word," she added, seeing a grim smile on the strong man's face. "I know what you would say. Leave the past alone, or it will be the worse for you. And see here, what's become of that boy Butsey?"
"He's in London at Father Don's."
"Poor little wretch. Being made into a devil such as you are. Then, you send for him to come to Chelmsford. I want him to deliver a letter, and the sooner it's delivered the better."
"Can't I deliver it?"
"No, you can't. I can trust Butsey. I can't trust you."
"Who is the letter to?"
"That's my business," flashed out Miss Lorry, returning to her interrupted breakfast; "tell Stag I'll see him about the note at my own time."
"But, Bell, if you leave the show, how will you live?"
"I've got money saved. You need not ask how much," she added, seeing the cupidity flash into the man's eyes, "for I am not going to tell you. I leave the show at the end of October, and then I remain in town till I become Lady Saltars."
"A nice bargain he'll get with you," growled Antonio. "I know you."
"As we've been together in the circus for years, you ought to----"
"I wasn't thinking of the circus, but of----"
"Hold your tongue," she cried, rising again, "mind your own business."
"You don't make it worth my while. Suppose I spoil your game with Lord Saltars?"
Miss Lorry's face became hard and her eyes glittered. "You dare to interfere, and I'll send to that policeman at Wargrove to tell him I saw you at Westhaven speaking to a pair of the biggest blackguards in London."
"And what will that do? I've got a right to speak to whom I choose."
"You can for all I care," said Miss Lorry, sitting down once more, "your business has nothing to do with me so long as you leave me alone. Why don't you go home to your poor wife?"
"My poor wife don't want me. And I wouldn't live with her for gold untold, seeing how she nags and moans. My wife?" sneered the man with an ugly look; "you're a nice one to talk of her."
"I tell you what, Giles Merry," said Miss Lorry, with great deliberation, "you'd better keep a civil tongue, or you'll have a bad time. I'll horsewhip you before the company, strong man as you are."
Antonio scowled. "You wouldn't dare."
"Wouldn't I? You talk like that and you'll see. You always were a brute and you always will be. I only hope," added Miss Lorry, suddenly looking into his eyes, "that you aren't something worse."
Antonio met the look with great composure. "Meaning a murderer?" he said. "Cain asked me if I did kill Strode."
"And how do I know you didn't?"
"Because I did not," cried the man, rising and looking fierce.
"Well," said Miss Lorry, after a pause, "I daresay you didn't. But you know who did." She looked at him searchingly.
"I swear by all that's holy, I don't!"
Miss Lorry laughed disagreeably. "Fancy Giles Merry talking of holy things. Cain's worth a dozen of you."
"The young fool! He's going to join the Salvationists!"
"And a good job too," cried Miss Lorry, with a pleased look, "he may convert you."
"Let him try," said the affectionate father, "and I'll smash him."
"Perhaps you'd rather Cain joined Father Don, and Red Jerry and Foxy. Oh, I saw you talking to Jerry and Foxy at Westhaven. It's my belief," added Miss Lorry, crushing her egg-shell, "that those two have something to do with Strode's end."
"Why don't you tell the police so?"
"Because I've got my own fish to fry," retorted Miss Lorry, rising and wiping her mouth; "but the presence of London thieves at Westhaven when a gentleman was murdered and robbed, looks queer. If the police knew they'd collar Jerry and Foxy and Father Don too. I fancy you would be brought into the matter."
"Look here," cried Antonio with an oath, "do you charge me, or any of those three with murder?"
"No, I don't. I only know that you were Strode's pal in the old days, and that you did a lot of dirty work for him. You're in with a bad lot, Giles, and will come to a bad end. I only wish I could rescue that poor little brat of a Butsey from you, but the boy's past reforming. I know nothing of him, save that he has an admiration for me, and ran my errands, so that is why I want him to deliver this letter. You'll try and learn who the letter is written to, Giles: but you won't. I can trust Butsey. But why don't you turn honest, man, and make money?"
"How can I? Honest men don't make money. And I gain my living honestly enough as a strong man with Stag."
"Ah, that's a blind to cloak your real character. You're in with Father Don's gang. Why not split on them?" Miss Lorry leaned forward and spoke softly. "For instance, why not call on Mr. Strode's lawyer and tell him Red Jerry came home from Africa about the same time that Strode did?"
"What good would that do?"
"I can't say. Mask knows something, and I want that something told, so that Miss Strode may marry Allen Hill, and be put out of my way, for me to marry Saltars. He admires her, and I want her safely married, beyond his reach. If you told about Red Jerry, Mask might be able to get back Miss Strode's fortune."
"What!"--Giles pricked up his ears--"Fortune?"
"Forty thousand pounds, Giles, in diamonds, I fancy."
Antonio sat down. "I never knew Strode was so rich," he said. "Why, the liar told me at Brentwood that he'd made no money."
"I don't wonder at that," said Miss Lorry; "he knew you'd blackmail him if he confessed to having money."
"I knew enough to make things hot for him," said Giles, biting his large, square fingers, "but I never knew he was rich. Lord, forty thousand pounds! If I'd known that----"
"You'd have killed him to get it."
"I don't say that," growled Giles, putting on his hat, "and as I didn't kill him, there's no more to be said. Where's the money now?"
Miss Lorry looked curiously at him. "You should know!"
"What the blazes do you mean?"
"Oh, if you don't know there's no more to be said. As Strode is dead, you can't get the money now. Your blackmailing is of no value. Miss Strode will get the diamonds and marry Mr. Allen Hill."
"Hill?" said Giles thoughtfully; "does he take after that fool of a father of his?"
"No; he's a man and not a whimpering ass like Lawrence Hill."
Giles stood musing at the door. "So Miss Strode will get the diamonds?" he said; "blest if I don't see her, and----"
Miss Lorry whirled round. "You leave her alone or I'll make things unpleasant for you. The poor girl has sorrow enough, and she's a good girl."
"Keep your hair on, I'll do nothing--at present," added Antonio significantly: and with an ironical bow he departed.
Miss Lorry clutched her breast with a frown. "I'll write that letter and send it by Butsey," she said determinedly.