In a certain house, in a certain street, in the town of Lina, Mrs. Dollman, a very pretty widow, of small attainments as far as time goes, for she was but 22, was talking to her sister, who had come to take tea with her. Said sister’s name was Mrs. Twiley, and she lived at Gibraltar when at home, her husband being a sergeant-major there. The late Mr. Dollman had been a lieutenant stationed at the fortress. He had risen from the ranks by merit alone, and had nothing to live upon but his pay. When he died, with startling suddenness, his young wife found herself rather badly off, her widow’s pension not leaving much margin for luxuries, after a certain number of necessities had been purchased.
Of relatives she had none left but the sister who lived in Gibraltar, and to whom she was much attached. She, therefore, resolved upon remaining in the vicinity, instead of going to England, where she knew very few people. A little kindly co-operation on the part of her late husband’s friends enabled her to start a boarding-house on a smallscale, with a view to supplementing her meagre income, and she was considered to be doing very well. Among her boarders was Hugh Stavanger, who was known here as Gregory Staines, and who was supposed to be a commission agent of some sort. Mr. Staines had been rather profuse in his attentions to his pretty landlady, and Mrs. Twiley, having heard something about a whispered possible engagement, deemed it compatible with her position as sole and serious relative to warn her sister against want of caution.
“You see, Phœbe,” she said gravely, “you really know next to nothing about this Mr. Staines. Certainly, he seems to have plenty of money to go on with, and pays you regularly. But you want more than that. You want to feel that his past life will bear investigation, and that he is really actuated by no mercenary motives in seeking to marry you.”
“Why, good gracious, Millie! I haven’t a penny saved up, as you know; and, as for my pension, I shall forfeit that if I marry again. So how can anybody possibly want to marry me through mercenary motives?”
“Will often says that with all your native shrewdness, there are some points on which you are awfully slow, and I am inclined to agree with him. Do you forget that you have a very well-furnished house, with every article in it paid for; that you have a comfortable little business nicely established; and that you are such a capital little manager that many an adventurer would jump at the chance of being kept by you? Now, don’t lose yourself in a temper, for I don’t mean to insinuate that you couldn’t be loved for yourself, apart from the material advantages you have to offer.In fact, I know different, for Archer Pallister thinks and dreams of nothing but your looks and ways, and I am sure that if he isn’t downright genuine, there isn’t a genuine man on earth. Indeed, the woman who marries him may thank her lucky stars. But there are all sorts of people knocking around, and Will says that we ought to be on our guard against Englishmen dodging about in Spain, unless they can give a very satisfactory account of themselves. For anything we know, this Gregory Staines is either an absconding building society secretary, or a fraudulent poor-rate collector.”
“I think it’s real mean of you to talk like that, Millie. You ought to know me better than to think I would take up with an adventurer.”
“I am glad to hear you say so, my dear. Will, too, will be highly pleased to be told that you are going to give Mr. Staines the cold shoulder.”
“You are rather premature. I never said so.”
“Not in so many words, perhaps. But you implied it. You said that you wouldn’t take up with an adventurer.”
“Your conclusion does not follow.”
“Indeed it does, dear, for I firmly believe the man to be a worthless adventurer.”
“He is a jeweller’s agent, doing a good business.”
“So he says. But haven’t you noticed that he transacts his business at very unbusiness-like times? He’s out to-day, but the circumstance is exceptional. He generally goes to bed about two o’clock, rises late, loafs about the house for hours, and goes out upon this ostensible business of his towards evening, when work of his sort is, or ought to be, over. Besides, how could an agent live by doingbusiness in Lina alone? Will and I are not the only two people who have talked him over, and the consensus of opinion is that he is not to be trusted, and is a man against whom you ought to be warned.”
“It is very kind of you to talk about my private affairs to all sorts of people. Be good enough to tell Will that I’m exceedingly obliged to him.”
“Now, don’t be rusty! You know that Will is as fond of you as I am, and that nothing would grieve him more than to think you were unhappy. Oh, look what a pretty girl is getting out of that conveyance! Why, she is coming here. I wonder what she wants.”
Phœbe Dollman also forgot her slight illhumour, and looked with interest upon the tall golden-haired beauty approaching the door. Presently a card was brought in to Mrs. Dollman, and the Spanish servant informed her that a lady wished to speak to her. The name on the card was Una Stratton, and very speedily Mrs. Dollman was conversing with the owner of it.
Miss Stratton, it appeared, was a lady artist, who wished to enrich her portfolio by sketching some Spanish scenes and people. She had been recommended to Mrs. Dollman’s boarding-house by a Mr. Smith, who had obtained the address for her from a friend who had spent a few weeks at Lina in the early summer.
Mrs. Dollman did not know who could be the especial gentleman who had been good enough to recommend her lodgings. But she had had several boarders who were little more than birds of passage, being en route for other places, and the gentleman through whom Miss Stratton had obtained her address might be one of those. Anyhow,things seemed to be straightforward enough. The young lady offered to pay for her board in advance, and Mrs. Dollman, who was quite charmed with the new arrival, promptly closed with her. Nor did she raise any objections when Miss Stratton announced that she wished to bring another boarder with her in the shape of a big Newfoundland dog, who was even now waiting outside for her.
In a very short time everything was satisfactorily arranged, and the new boarder installed in comfortable quarters.
“This is my sister, Mrs. Twiley,” said Mrs. Dollman some time later. “She and her husband are my only relatives, and whoever knows me, speedily knows them, for they are good enough to spend a great deal of time with me.”
“Your sister! You make me feel quite envious. I have neither sister nor brother, and have often felt rather lonely in consequence.”
“But you have other relatives?”
“Oh, yes! I have the best father in the world. And my aunt—God bless her!—has been the most tender and affectionate of mothers to me.”
“Then, after all, you ought to be happy, in our opinion, for it has always seemed to us that young people without a parental home are the most to be commiserated.”
“And yet, with every possible advantage of home and family, one may be overtaken by troubles beside which the mere death of a loved one is comparative happiness.”
As the beautiful stranger uttered the last words, her eyes darkened with grief, and her whole appearance betokened the most bitter sorrow. Both Millie and Phœbe were stricken with sudden awe before this brief glimpse of ananguish which evidently surpassed anything they had ever dreamed of, and their hearts went out tenderly towards Miss Stratton. Very quickly, however, the latter regained control of herself, and five minutes later the sisters were ready to doubt whether she was not one of the happiest of mortals.
“Have you any boarders in the house, Mrs. Dollman?” she inquired presently, while occupied in despatching the refreshing meal which had been promptly ordered for her. As she waited for a reply she toyed with her teaspoon, patted her big dog on the head, and altogether looked so carelessly unconcerned, that much more suspicious people than those she had to deal with would have been slow to fancy that her question was one of vital import to her, or that she was listening for the reply with every nerve tingling with anxiety.
“Only four,” was Phœbe’s answer. “We have a Mr. Everton and his wife. They have been here six months, and are likely to remain here. Then there are two single gentlemen, Mr. Grice and Mr. Staines.”
Miss Stratton’s heart leapt at this answer, yet she received it with apparent indifference, although it relieved her of a great anxiety. Suppose Mr. Gregory Staines, whose presence here was really her sole reason for coming to Lina, had suddenly taken it into his head to seek fresh quarters! She did not doubt her ability to trace him again. But each delay that occurred before running the man to earth prolonged the sufferings of the man whose liberty she had sworn to secure, and she was thankful to have found him at last.
Contrary to Phœbe’s expectation, she betrayed not theslightest further interest in the other lodgers, but conversed for awhile pleasantly on other topics, inquiring carefully about the neighbouring scenery under the pretence of being anxious to take some local views.
“My artistic work is not necessarily bread and butter to me,” she observed. “But I naturally wish to do as well as possible while I am here, as they may not be willing to spare me from home long.”
“I would like to see your sketches, if you don’t mind showing them to us,” said Millie.
“And you shall see them,” was the answer. “But not this evening. I suppose my box will be here soon, but by the time I have unpacked what is necessary, I shall be ready to go to bed, for I am very tired with travelling.”
And this excuse, although not quite in accordance with Una Stratton’s ultimate intentions, served to secure her the privacy she desired for the rest of the evening. She had casually learned that the other boarders were out, and that they were not likely to put in an appearance until sometime later.
“Mr. and Mrs. Everton are spending the day with some friends in Gibraltar. Mr. Grice never comes in until eight o’clock, and Mr. Staines’ movements are so uncertain that we never know whether he will be in to supper or not. We generally have it soon after eight, and spend the rest of the evening at cards or music. We shall be very glad of your company. But are you quite sure that you will like the room you have chosen? As a rule, ladies do not feel so safe in a bedroom on the ground floor, and I have a chamber on the third floor, quite as pretty, if you would prefer it.”
But to this suggestion Una, as we will at present call the girl in whom the reader has already recognised Annie Cory, returned a negative answer, saying that she preferred not to take her dog up and down the stairs. “He always sleeps in my room,” she added, “and is such a splendid protector that I could not possibly feel nervous with him near me. I could not answer for his carefulness with the stair carpets, and always prefer to keep him to the ground floor.”
This sounded plausible enough, and Millie remarked with a laugh that it would be a bold burglar who would dare to invade a room guarded by so powerful an animal.
“I think so too,” said Una. “But he is as gentle as a lamb, unless bidden to be otherwise, and I am sure you will like him. Eh, Briny? You are a dear old thing, aren’t you?”
Briny acknowledged the compliment by a stately wave of his tail, and by gently inserting his nose in the hand of his mistress, knowing that she always had a caress to spare for him.
Soon after Miss Stratton had retired with her dog to her own room, Millie’s husband came to see his sister-in-law, and to escort his wife home to their quarters. The new arrival was liberally discussed and enthusiastically praised. But Sergeant-Major Twiley was disposed to receive all praises of the beautiful strangercum grano salis, and rather hurt the feelings of his women-folks by offering to go round to a certain English hotelkeeper to have a look at the London directory, which served as a sort of guarantee to thebona fidesof would-be creditors. He found nothing, however, but a substantiation of the new lodger’s statements. Thename and address she had given both tallied with those in the directory. So Sergeant-Major Twiley was reassured, and the ladies found their convictions confirmed.
But what would the three of them have thought if they could have seen what was now going on in the room to which the supposed Miss Stratton had retired, avowedly with the object of securing a good night’s rest?