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| author | www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> | 2025-10-30 13:59:08 -0700 |
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| committer | www-data <www-data@mail.pglaf.org> | 2025-10-30 13:59:08 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/77154-0.txt b/77154-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..eda5444 --- /dev/null +++ b/77154-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,10431 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77154 *** + + + + + NEW EAGLE SERIES No. 1174 + + _THE GIRL HE + LOVED_ + + [Illustration] + + _Adelaide + Stirling_ + + + + + The Girl He Loved + + OR, + + WHERE LOVE ABIDES + + BY + ADELAIDE STIRLING + + Author of “Saved from Herself,” “Her Evil Genius,” “A Forgotten + Love,” “Love and Spite”--published in the NEW EAGLE + SERIES. + + + [Illustration: S AND S + NOVELS] + + + STREET & SMITH CORPORATION + PUBLISHERS + 79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York + + + + + Copyright, 1900 + By Street & Smith + + The Girl He Loved + + + (Printed in the United States of America) + + All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign + languages, including the Scandinavian. + + + + +THE GIRL HE LOVED. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER I. SWEETHEARTS. + CHAPTER II. THE PERSON IN BLACK. + CHAPTER III. A GIFT OF JUDAS. + CHAPTER IV. “A HORRID OLD MAN!” + CHAPTER V. HER WEDDING-DAY. + CHAPTER VI. A VERY CLEVER PERSON. + CHAPTER VII. HER LADYSHIP SHUFFLES THE CARDS. + CHAPTER VIII. “A BIT OF THE TRUTH.” + CHAPTER IX. REVENGE--AND A BALLROOM. + CHAPTER X. A TIRING DAY. + CHAPTER XI. NEWS OF ADRIAN. + CHAPTER XII. THE ICY BARRIER. + CHAPTER XIII. IN LEVALLION’S HOUSE. + CHAPTER XIV. A DOVE-COLORED GOWN. + CHAPTER XV. A WOMAN’S RING. + CHAPTER XVI. THE SIN OF SYLVIA ANNESLEY. + CHAPTER XVII. THE SEALED LETTER. + CHAPTER XVIII. A GROWING CLOUD OF WITNESSES. + CHAPTER XIX. IN OUTER DARKNESS. + CHAPTER XX. A WICKED WOMAN’S TONGUE. + CHAPTER XXI. WHITE POPPIES OF OBLIVION. + CHAPTER XXII. THE MOONLIGHT PICNIC. + CHAPTER XXIII. THE DARK GLASS. + CHAPTER XXIV. ALONE WITH THE DEAD. + CHAPTER XXV. A DEAD MAN’S SWEETHEART. + CHAPTER XXVI. TRIFLES LIGHT AS AIR. + CHAPTER XXVII. THE EVIDENCE IN THE CASE. + CHAPTER XXVIII. “I SAW--NO ONE!” + CHAPTER XXIX. “WILFUL MURDER.” + CHAPTER XXX. A CLOUD OF BLOOD. + CHAPTER XXXI. A BAD MOVE. + CHAPTER XXXII. A TRIVIAL INCIDENT. + CHAPTER XXXIII. LEVALLION’S HEIR. + CHAPTER XXXIV. “FALSE AS A PACK OF CARDS.” + CHAPTER XXXV. GOOD-BY. + CHAPTER XXXVI. A MOUSE-HOLE. + CHAPTER XXXVII. A GRAY-LINED CLOAK. + CHAPTER XXXVIII. ARRESTED. + CHAPTER XXXIX. MR. JACOBS. + CHAPTER XL. AT THE HINGES OF DEATH. + CHAPTER XLI. “I LOVED YOU BEST.” + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +SWEETHEARTS. + + +“Thomas, my son!” + +The voice came darkly from the scullery window, and Sir Thomas Annesley +gave a guilty start where he knelt in the kitchen garden. + +“Oh! It’s you!” he cried, with relief. “I thought it might be her +ladyship, and I didn’t want her.” + +He hastily covered in a small grave he was making in the parsley-bed, +and his sister poked her bronze head from the open window with some +curiosity. + +“What are you doing?” she inquired. + +“Oh, nothing! Just putting away something. There is nothing like a hole +in the ground. What on earth are you doing in the scullery?” eying the +unwonted smartness of as much of Miss Ravenel Annesley’s toilet as was +visible. “What have you got on your Sunday frock for? Have you been +blacking the family boots in it?” + +“If it’s anything to eat you’ve buried, the cats will dig it up again!” +loftily ignoring his question, except for a guilty glance at her lilac +muslin gown. + +“No cat”--calmly--“will dig this up, for I’m going to do it myself +first! Come out, why don’t you?” + +“I’m coming.” Miss Annesley vaulted nimbly from the window with much +display of her only pair of black silk stockings. “You don’t see her +ladyship anywhere, do you, Tommy? Because I’ve an--an errand in the +quarry, and I don’t want her to sniff it out.” + +“She can’t sniff a quarter of a mile”--comfortably. “She’s gone down to +sit by the lake without any hat; said she had neuralgia. But I know +she’s gone to bleach her golden hair.” + +“She does bleach her hair,” Ravenel remarked thoughtfully. “It was the +most awful color yesterday--a sort of green! I heard her giving it to +the Umbrella for making a mistake.” + +Sir Thomas Annesley lit a contraband cigarette. + +“And yet,” he said blandly, “it was not the Umbrella who changed the +bottle! Her ladyship kicked Mr. Jacobs, and any one who kicks my dog +has misfortunes. I’ll walk over to the quarry with you!” affably. + +“No, Tommy dear!” with guilty haste. “I--I don’t require you.” + +Sir Thomas coughed. + +“Don’t blame me then if her ladyship sends the old Umbrella all over +the country for you when you’re missed. I’ll have to kill that maid +some day! Do you know, she listens at the door when we’re alone?” + +“Much good she’ll get!” contemptuously, marching on under the +blossoming apple-trees with the sun flecking the lovely bronze of her +hair with red gold. “Look here, Tommy, you come as far as the hedge, +and just give a cooee if you see the Umbrella or her ladyship.” + +“Can’t. I’m going over to the barracks to see Gordon.” + +“I wouldn’t! It would be”--she was not looking at him--“a waste of +time.” + +“Oh!” Sir Thomas winked vulgarly, as he observed a lovely carnation +grow and deepen in his sister’s cheeks. “I see. Well, go on, my dear! +I don’t blame you; only,” in hasty addition as they reached the hedge, +“keep your eye peeled. The Umbrella is active, and also far-sighted. +I don’t recommend the quarry myself; it is too like being a mouse in +a bowl. Give me a wood for such undertakings! And mind you’re back +by dinner, for if her ladyship sees you sneaking in with your Sunday +blouse on she’ll put two and two together. Meantime, I’ve gone over to +the barracks to see Gordon. You mind that when you come home!” + +“You’re a duck, Thomas, some day I’ll reward you,” returned the vision +in mauve muslin, disappearing with some pains through the whitethorn +hedge. + +But Sir Thomas only grunted. He approved of his sister’s adorer +because Lady Annesley did not, but he privately considered that meeting +a handsome, penniless hussar was wasting time. + +“However, Mr. Jacobs,” he observed, as that disreputable bull-terrier +joined him, “anything for business, and we’re growing old. And it is my +belief that my lady wants to marry Ravenel to that old Lord Levallion, +and I’ll see her blowed first.” + +He sat down on the bank at the foot of the hedge and pulled his hat +over his eyes. They were worldly wise eyes for a boy of sixteen; but to +have Lady Annesley for a stepmother was a liberal education. Old Sir +Thomas had married her in haste, and, fortunately for himself, had died +too soon to have time to repent at leisure. He was poor; his new wife +had been supposed to be rich; but her fortune turned out to be about +as real as her complexion--there was just enough of it to swear by. +Annesley Chase was mortgaged too deeply for the widow’s small income +even to pay the interest; when young Sir Thomas came of age it would be +foreclosed and sold over his head, unless money came from the skies. +And yet Lady Annesley, even while she sat and saw the interest piling +up against her, had no idea of letting Annesley Chase go. A snug old +age in the dower-house appearing to her more inviting than spending her +declining years in a semidetached villa, she was even now taking steps +to secure it by the simple scheme of a rich marriage for Ravenel, and +later and harder, for Sir Thomas. In the meantime, she provided the +stepchildren, who were her only stock in trade, with bread and butter. +Thin bread and thinner butter, perhaps; but still she fed them. And +they hated her cordially--Ravenel from having seen her father’s last +days made wretched; Tommy from a far-sighted distrust that grew on him +every day. + +But Ravenel just now had no thoughts for her stepmother, nor of how +she was improving the long hours of the May afternoon. Over the short +grass of the field above the quarry pits she was walking with the air +of one having an infinity of time and no particular destination. Her +heart might be galloping before her, but it was not good for captains +of hussar regiments to know it. She sailed on demurely under the shade +of an ivory-white parasol--it was one of Lady Annesley’s, and her +stepdaughter hoped devoutly there would not be a hue and cry for it +while it was out--as if she had not a care in the world. Yet a sharp +color came to her clear cheeks as she neared the quarry pit. + +Suppose he had not come! + +The thought made her feel chilly in the warm May sunshine. For one +breathless moment she was afraid to lift her eyes from the short grass +lest she might look in vain for Adrian Gordon. And so nearly walked +over him where he lay stretched on the warm, green sod at the edge of +the quarry. + +Miss Annesley dropped her pirated parasol. + +“Oh!” she cried, as he sprang to his feet. “I nearly walked over you.” + +“Tread lightly then, for my heart is under your feet,” quoted the man, +with a little laugh of pure pleasure. He took both her hands and looked +down into her gray-blue eyes. + +“I began to think, Miss Annesley,” he remarked gravely, “that you were +not coming. Another ten minutes and I should have walked up to your +hall door and paid a polite visit,” his strong, fine hands holding hers +with utter content. + +The girl looked up at him where he stood bareheaded, the sun on his +close-cropped, fair hair. How tanned and strong and good to look at he +was! And how sweet his gray eyes and his mouth under his fair mustache. + +He caught her hands a little closer. + +“You see,” he said; “you were just saved having to receive me under her +ladyship’s nose. I would have braved even her tea rather than have gone +back without seeing you.” He stooped to pick up her parasol, and she +drew her hands from his left one that held them both. + +“It wouldn’t have been any good your coming in state,” she returned +calmly. “You would only have had ‘not at home’ said to you. Her +ladyship is engaged to-day in renovating her charms.” + +“I should have met you at the door if I’d started when I first thought +of it! Would you have sent me away?” seating himself beside her in the +shade of a flower-filled thorn-tree on the sharp slope down to the +quarry. “I believe you would!” rather dashed. + +“I should not, for an excellent reason. I didn’t come by the front +door, but out of the scullery window,” gaily. “Her ladyship supposes +I’m darning table-cloths. I’ve left Tommy down by the hedge to warn me +if my flight is discovered.” + +The laughter left Captain Gordon’s handsome eyes. He laid his brown +hand on Ravenel’s white one. + +“Tell me, my Nel,” he said softly; “do you love me, ever so little?” + +“No!” very low. “Ever so little!” Did she not love him with all her +soul and body, as she loved no one else in God’s world? + +“How much do you love me? That much?” measuring off a tiny space with +her two hands, for he had them both now, and Lady Annesley’s lace +parasol had rolled where it would down the quarry. + +“Not at all?” + +“Not at all,” but she barely whispered it. + +“Do you mean that, Nel?” he was whispering, too. “Because I love +you--oh, you know how I love you!” he let her hands go. “Tell me, +quick, do you mean it?” + +Miss Annesley made no answer, only raised her eyes to his for the +briefest instant. But it was long enough for Adrian Gordon. + +“Sweetheart,” he said, and kissed her. “Nel, look at me; won’t you kiss +me?” + +“I--I don’t know.” But she did look at him, and, somehow, without +either of their wills, their lips met. And at that long, gentle touch +of the man’s lips on hers Ravenel Annesley gave her heart and her soul +to his keeping, forever. + +“My sweet,” he said, letting her go, “do you know, I’ve no right to ask +you to marry me? I’ve no money.” + +“Neither have I,” gaily. “Would you like to be off your bargain?” + +“Don’t say it!” quickly. “It hurts too much. But money I must and will +have to marry you. I mean the girl of my heart to have all she wants +in this world--gowns and horses and happiness. It would kill me to see +you as I’ve seen the wives of lots of poor men. Can you wait for me, +sweet, for two years, while I go out to India?” + +“India! What for?” the color left her face. + +“Well! I’ve a second cousin, who has some influence. He’s not a man +I like much, but he surprised me the other day by telling me that +a friend of his out in India would offer me an appointment on his +staff--he’s a general--if it were certain I’d accept. I--I said I +would. It’s more than three times the pay I’m getting now and a chance +in a thousand to get on in the service. I’d have to leave my regiment, +but I’d do that--for you.” + +“Adrian--not now!” she whispered. “We’re so happy.” Her heart fairly +turned over at the thought of Annesley Chase without Adrian Gordon +quartered ten miles off, of the long, empty summer days. + +“We’ll be as happy again,” he answered wistfully, “and the sooner I go +the sooner I’ll be back. But I wouldn’t go at all if I saw any other +way. I’m afraid to leave you with your stepmother.” + +“She can’t marry me out offhand to a slug or a snail, and those are the +only visitors we ever have. My charms”--dryly--“have doubtless not yet +been noised abroad.” + +“I believe you wish they had been!” quite as dryly. “You’re a bundle of +vanity, Miss Annesley, and I believe you’ve got a temper--and you’re +proud----” he paused eloquently. + +“Go on,” returned his charmer calmly. “Don’t mind me! And when you’re +done I’ll tell you what I am--quite good enough for you!” + +Her eyes met his with sweet insolence, fearless for all their softness, +and the man’s face changed. + +“You’re too good, that’s one thing,” he said slowly. “And for another, +you’re too proud. I know you! If anything went wrong between us, and it +was my fault, you’d never give me a chance to explain.” + +Ravenel looked at him, as he sat beside her, with the May sun full on +his face, that was meant to be fair, but was turned a clear pale-bronze +by wind and weather; full on his tawny, gold mustache, and the +clear-cut lines of his cheek and chin. Strong and cold and proud that +face was, till you looked at the man’s eyes or saw him smile. But now +he was not smiling, and a quick pang caught at the girl’s heart. Adrian +Gordon to talk of pride! + +She flung out both her hands to him, as she had never done before. + +“Listen!” she cried passionately. “It’s you who are proud; not I! +Offend me, and I will give you all the chances on earth to explain; but +you--oh, I don’t believe you would ever forgive anything.” + +Her eyes, that had been so gay, so full of sweet mockery, were brimming +with tears, and Gordon caught her to him jealously. + +“There will never anything come between us,” he said as he kissed her, +“not between the girl I love and me!” + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +THE PERSON IN BLACK. + + +Behind a rock, not two yards from Captain Gordon’s flat young back, +something stirred--stirring so faintly that even a thrush in its nest +in the hawthorn bush did not hear it. Perhaps the sour-faced person +in black who knelt on the grass, ostensibly digging dandelions for a +complexion salad, had been there for a long time; or, perhaps, it had +not been hard to evade the sentry on the hedge and bring up in good +ear-shot of the two people who were blind and deaf to everything but +themselves. + +“Heaps of things can come between us,” Ravenel was retorting dolefully. +“Lady Annesley can. And Tommy says the Umbrella--that beast of a maid +of hers--tells her everything we do.” + +The person in black bridled angrily behind her rock. She had come from +curiosity; she would stay now for spite. The Umbrella, indeed! + +Gordon laughed. + +“Why do you call her that?” + +“Oh, because she’s a framework of bones with limp black silk over +them--just like an umbrella shut up! But she’s a vicious wretch, too, +and I hate her.” + +The unseen listener’s eyes narrowed in her flat face. + +“Well, never mind her; she can’t worry us!” hastily. “This is the only +thing that matters just now. My cousin wired to General Carmichael that +I’d accept his offer, and--got an answer. Nel, I must go in a week!” + +“Well?” she did not look at him. + +“Well, I’m going!” his handsome face drawn and hard. “But I won’t leave +you like this. I want you to marry me before I go.” + +“But you couldn’t take me with you?” a wild hope made her voice shake. + +“No! But I could send for you, or come when I could get leave and carry +you off. Look here, my heart,” with gentle strength, “if I must go I +want to leave my wife behind me. Then I shall know nothing can ever +come between us.” + +“Oh,” her cheek reddened, “I can’t marry you! How could I?” though the +very thought of being Adrian’s wife made life heaven. + +“There’s Tommy.” + +Gordon smiled. + +“Is that all? Only Tommy! When I come back for you we’ll take Tommy, +too; will that do? Or, do you think you’ll find me an insufferable +husband? Tell me. Why don’t you look at me, sweetheart?” + +“Because I don’t want to,” returned Miss Annesley, with scarlet cheeks +and a truthful tongue. + +“Say you’ll marry me!” he demanded. “Say yes--unless you don’t love me.” + +Very deliberately she looked at him, saw the love and truth in +his eyes, the strength and beauty of his face, that was pale with +earnestness. + +“Yes,” she whispered, so that he could hardly hear; but he knew without +hearing--and the silent woman behind the rock knew, too, and strained +her ears. + +“Then will you do this?” said Gordon. “The curate at Effingham went to +school with me. He’ll marry us if I get a special license. All you’ll +have to do is to walk over to Effingham--which is really your parish +church, though you don’t go there--with me, and be married. No one +will know, unless you like to tell Tommy. And I’ll bring you straight +home from the church door. But you’ll belong to me, and I can defy her +ladyship or any one else to make trouble between us. Will you do that?” + +She nodded, her face like a crimson flower. + +“Yes, Adrian,” he prompted; but she spoke with a sudden flash of her +spirit. + +“Your wife or no one else’s in the world!” she cried, “unless--you +change your mind and throw me over.” + +Gordon caught her up like a child. + +“Oh, you silly, silly!” he cried. “I’ll not give you a chance to be any +one else’s wife; don’t flatter yourself. But I’ve no right to so sweet +a thing as you. What you ought to do is refuse me and marry my cousin.” + +“I don’t even know his name.” + +“That’s a trifle. He has money enough to buy this county and not know +it.” + +“He hasn’t money enough to buy me!” with a quick flash of her eyes. +“Oh!” with sudden remembrance of the world about her, “I must go! Look +how long the shadows are.” + +“Wait--just one second! I’ve something for you,” he was feeling in his +pocket. “I meant it to be diamonds, but they say these things--though, +of course, it’s nonsense--lose their light if things go wrong with--any +one you care for!” + +He drew out a velvet case, and there shone into Ravenel Annesley’s eyes +the green fire of a half-hoop of emeralds, curiously set in a kind of +mosaic of small diamonds and opals. The thing was wonderful in a queer, +barbaric way as it blazed in the sun. The girl who looked at it stood +speechless. + +“Don’t you like it?” his face falling, for he had searched London for a +ring unlike any others. + +“I--I love it! But----” she stopped with dismay. + +Opals--every one knew what luck opals brought. And emeralds all the +world over meant “forsaken.” + +“Opals aren’t lucky,” she said hastily, and left the green stones out +of the question; “but this is too beautiful to bring bad luck. And I +suppose it’s all nonsense really! Adrian, do you know, I never had a +ring in my life?” shaking from her the senseless dread she felt of this +one. + +“You’re going to have two now. This to-day and another next week,” he +was slipping the fiery-green wonder on her third finger. “‘Till death +do us part,’” he quoted softly. “That belongs to the next ring, but I +can say it with this one.” + +“Death, or Lady Annesley!” sharply, her eyes full of quick tears. “She +hates me, Adrian, and she doesn’t like you.” + +“It can’t hurt either of us, Nel!” with the little backward jerk of his +head the girl loved. + +“Why do you never call me Ravenel?” she said irrelevantly, for there +was no sense in wasting good time talking about her ladyship. + +“Not like you!” promptly. “Means some one quite different. Mind you, +never let any one call you Nel till I come back again,” with a sudden +curious jealousy. + +“No one will want to,” dolefully. “Oh! Adrian; do you really mean to go +next week?” + +“I must,” his face grew dark, hard-bitten; for it was like dying to +leave her. “And the worst of it is I’ll be so busy. I’ll have to go +to London to get my kit, and say a decent word to my cousin, and sit +through a farewell dinner at mess--that’ll be about as lively as a +funeral!--the night before I leave, when I shall be mad to be with you. +But we’ll have one day together if everything goes undone. And you’ll +go with me to Effingham, Miss Annesley, and come back Nel Gordon!” + +But she sat pale and quiet. + +“It seems so mad, so impossible!” she said at last, as if it were wrung +from her. “And I believe my stepmother would kill me if she found out.” + +“That’s about the only thing she couldn’t do,” shortly. “Do you think I +won’t take care of her claws for you? Look here, besides, the day we go +to Effingham there’ll be the duchess’ garden-party. I’ll manage to get +there. If I can’t, I’ll send you a note to say what day I am coming to +take you to Effingham. After that, sweet, we can laugh at her ladyship.” + +“You’ll be gone! We won’t be able to laugh at anything!” forlornly. + +“You’ll be my wife,” something flashed into his eyes that boded no good +to any one that dared lift a finger against Adrian Gordon’s dearest. +“I’ll be able to write to you and you to me. Some day I’ll come and +carry you off, no matter what Lady Annesley may be pleased to say. +The only thing is,” a sudden pity in the masterful protecting hand on +hers, “it’s a pretty poor match for you, my Nel. And a doleful wedding +in an empty church to a man who can’t even keep you is a selfish bit +of work--it makes me feel a beast! You ought, you know, to marry a +lord--with a choral service, and two bishops, and a church full of fine +people to make it all proper,” his voice was jesting, but his eyes were +sad enough, and he held her hand as if he never could let it go. + +“Don’t talk like that!” she cried sharply. “It makes me feel as if some +one were walking over my grave. What have I got to do with lords and +bishops at my wedding? I’d be miserable. I’d----” she could not go on. +What made her see, as if in a vision, a strange church, filled with +sweet people, whispering indifferently while the organ pealed, and the +bride, all in white--with a heart of stone--came up the aisle on feet +that would hardly carry her, since it was not Adrian Gordon who waited +at the altar? There was a look on her face as she stared in front of +her, wide-eyed, that made Gordon catch her to him. A prescient look, +as of one who sees for a shuddering moment the curtain lifted from the +future. + +“What’s the matter? You’re not afraid?” he whispered. “I’ll take care +of you, my sweet; you know that! May God treat me as I treat you, my +wife.” + +Lip to lip, soul to soul, they kissed each other. She was shaking when +he let her go; afterward it was small comfort to him to remember it, +nor the real terror in her voice when she spoke. + +“Oh! I’ve stayed too late. And the ring, I daren’t wear it. You +mustn’t come with me. She mustn’t know you were here.” She dragged up +her neck-ribbon and put the ring on it, slipping it round her neck, +inside her collar, pushing it out of sight with miserable care. And the +watcher behind the rock--who was stiff and much fatigued--saw her do it. + +“Rings!” she reflected, coming cautiously out as the pair vanished, +and rubbing one foot that had gone to sleep, “and weddings at +Effingham--we’ll see!” pins and needles adding vigor to her thoughts. +“Old Umbrella, indeed!” and her ladyship’s confidential maid moved +stiffly off in a devious direction that took her to Annesley Chase +quite unobserved. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +A GIFT OF JUDAS. + + +“Oh!” said Ravenel Annesley to the empty schoolroom, the ill-spread +breakfast-table. She stared at the small envelope that lay on her plate +with a breathless, helpless joy. Since this four days past she had +hoped for it in vain. + +“I never thought he’d write by post!” she thought, pouncing on it and +inspecting every inch of it, from the London postmark to the last +letter of the address. “But her ladyship couldn’t have suspected it was +from Adrian, or I never would have seen it! It was just that London +postmark that saved me!” + +She turned it over sharply with the horrid thought that perhaps she had +only got it after Lady Annesley knew what was in it, for the post-bag +always went to her bedroom, and her ladyship’s prejudices were few. But +the clean, red seal on the back of it reassured her no one had tampered +with that clear-cut A. Tommy, sauntering in, whistled as he looked from +his sister’s face to the envelope she was tearing open. + + “My Nel,” she read breathlessly. + + “I find I can go to the duchess’ to-morrow. I was afraid I couldn’t + manage it. My ship sails on the 15th, so the 14th is our only day. + I have arranged everything, got the license, seen the curate at + Effingham, and I’ll come to the back gate for you at three on the + 14th, which is our only chance for Effingham, as my ship sails a day + sooner than I thought. Will it be very hard for you to get away? But + you’ll do it, won’t you? Bring Tommy if you like. It does not seem + true that the next time I see you will be on our wedding-day, does it, + sweetheart? I feel as though I were hurrying you brutally, but it is + our only chance. Excuse pencil and haste, but I’m writing in another + man’s rooms, and his ink won’t work. + + “Always yours--my very dearest, + + “ADRIAN.” + +But Miss Annesley bestowed no attention on the pencil-scrawl or the +dates written in figures, which Lady Annesley would have considered +tempting Providence. + +“To-day is the twelfth,” she thought joyfully. “I’ll see him to-morrow +at the duchess’. Oh, if I only had something fit to wear!” + +“Look here,” said Sir Thomas suddenly. “When you have done moaning +over that precious letter I wish to discourse. Are you going to marry +Gordon?” + +“Shut up, Tommy!” she was scarlet. “Some one might hear.” + +“Who could?” scornfully. “The Umbrella’s at her breakfast. Are +you? Because, I should if I were you! it may be your only chance,” +significantly. + +“Yes, I am!” she said defiantly, and afterward was glad she had told no +more. + +“But what do you mean?” for his face was sober. + +“Only that somehow I think her ladyship’s in mischief. She’s been eying +you like a cat lately. I feel afraid she may be on to you and Gordon.” + +“I don’t care if she is.” Somehow she could not tell all her wild plan +to Tommy. “I’m engaged to him. Why should I care?” + +“You don’t now, but you will when her eye’s on you,” shrewdly. + +“I’ll soon find out. She wants me after breakfast,” bestowing Adrian’s +note in a safe pocket. “I suppose it’s about the duchess’ party +to-morrow. Do you know I’m to go?” + +The boy nodded. + +“Good old duchess!” he said disrespectfully. “Ever see her on a +bicycle? She’s gorgeous. You’ll never be a fine woman like that unless +you make her ladyship give us more to eat,” dolefully. + +“What do you bet--she’s having sweetbreads up-stairs?” + +“Don’t bet,” concisely. “Met them going up. I’ll go up myself now, +Tommy, and hear the worst.” + +She marched out of the untidy old schoolroom, where she and Tommy had +their meals, and through the bare passages to the only luxurious room +in the house. It was like going into another world, a world of scent +and rose-colored hangings and mirrors, silver-topped bottles and +cushions. On a sofa sat its owner and in the tempered light she was +beautiful still. Yet she looked enviously at Ravenel standing in the +doorway. With half her looks Sylvia Annesley would have married a duke. + +“You wanted me?” Somehow Ravenel was nervous. + +“Yes,” pointing to a chair; “about to-morrow. Have you anything to +wear?” + +“My Sunday frock,” coloring as she remembered when she had last worn it. + +Lady Annesley let a gleam of amusement come into her eyes, since her +back was to the light. + +“That lavender thing! It can’t be fit.” + +“It’s all right,” hastily. “It doesn’t matter what I wear.” + +“Except that I fancy the duchess would like to see you decent.” So +carelessly that no one would have dreamed that all her schemes might be +made or marred by her step-daughter’s toilet at a country garden-party. + +“It’s my lavender or nothing!” returned that young person not too +amiably. + +Lady Annesley’s answer made her jump. + +“Not at all! I am going to give you a gown. I sent for you to try it +on.” + +“You!” It sounded more candid than polite. “Why? What for?” For her +life she could not get out any thanks. Lady Annesley, who let her go +cold in winter, to suddenly present her with a new dress. “I--I’d +rather not,” she ended stiffly. + +“Oh, you might see it first,” rather dryly. “Adams, Miss Ravenel’s +gown!” + +Ravenel watched the Umbrella go to a wardrobe. + +“If she made it,” she thought, “I’ll never put it on!” + +Sylvia Annesley read the obstinate face like print. + +“You see,” she said lightly, “the whole county will be there to-morrow, +and all the soldiers! You simply can’t go in a tumbled old muslin.” + +All the soldiers! And Adrian had never seen her in a frock that was +even new. Lady Annesley saw her waver. + +“That is the little gown,” she said quickly. “Slip it on and decide +afterward,” thinking that mention of the soldiers had done the +business, and blessing the discretion of her maid without which she +might have given her stepdaughter ten gowns and not known how to make +her wear them. + +For Ravenel had risen and was staring at the ivory-white, silk-lined +muslin the Umbrella held. + +There was not a spot of color about it, and as she gazed the girl knew +that Adrian had never even dreamed of her as she would look in that +filmy white frock. + +“I can’t take it,” she faltered, but she let the Umbrella put it on her. + +“The hat, Adams!” cried Lady Annesley quickly. “In the next room. Give +me the scissors first. The collar is too high in the back.” + +She snipped hastily once or twice, but Ravenel hardly felt the cold +scissors as she stared down at her long skirt. + +“There, look at yourself.” With a curious lingering touch, Lady +Annesley pushed her to the glass. But the girl gave a little cry of +astonishment. + +Was this her very own self who stood so thin and tall, her bronze hair +gleaming, her cheeks rose-red, her eyes--she turned from the mirror +with sudden passion. No matter who gave her the gown she would wear it! +would go all in white for Adrian Gordon’s eyes. + +“Do you know it is very good of you?” She faced the woman in the yellow +silk morning gown honestly. “I don’t deserve it.” + +“It is not new. I had the things,” slowly. “Just turn and let me see +how the train hangs.” She stooped gracefully, pulled the bodice down +under the skirt, settled the train. She also had not been prepared +for the dream of peach and carnation the girl looked in the white +gown; had doubted if her one card were strong enough to play against +the world-worn shrewdness of a man grown old in society. But she was +confident enough now. + +“I can snap my fingers at Captain Gordon, I fancy,” and she tightened +her small hand. “He can’t blame any one but himself,” but she kept the +scorn off her face till Ravenel had put on her every-day clothes and +departed. + +“Tommy,” the girl cried, bursting into the schoolroom and recounting +her extraordinary tale, “fancy her giving me a dress! Do you think it +means she’s beginning to like me?” wistfully. + +“I don’t think--I know,” said Sir Thomas bluntly. “It means Lord +Levallion. You bet your boots he’s going to that party.” + +“What do you mean?” blankly. “I never heard of the man.” + +“Her ladyship dropped that out the window,” producing a torn envelope. +“It blew slap in my face. Dark-blue coronet, ‘Levallion’ on the back +and ‘Lady An----’ torn through in front. And, sent by hand!” + +“I don’t see what that’s got to do with the garden-party!” + +“Don’t you?” getting up. “You’re a girl and can’t see past your nose. I +tell you Levallion’s staying with the duchess. Aren’t you hungry? I’m +going out to get that ginger beer I buried. I hooked some buns, too. We +hadn’t too much breakfast.” + +“We’ll get less after to-morrow,” following him briskly into +the garden. “For I’m not going to speak to any nasty old Lord +Levallion--not for ten gowns. I’m going to----” She stopped short, +white with terror. + +“My ring!” she cried wildly. “I took off my dress before her. She must +have seen it.” + +Both hands at her throat, she fumbled for her treasure; and leaned back +against a convenient tree with her knees giving under her. + +Ring and ribbon were gone! + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +“A HORRID OLD MAN!” + + +Lord Levallion was bored. + +He hated garden-parties, and he had patiently endured the Duchess of +Avonmore’s country omnium-gatherum from four o’clock until six. He +could not go home, because he was staying in the house, and, retreat +being impossible, he had revenged himself for his martyrdom on his +old friend, Lady Annesley, by departing hastily on her eager offer to +introduce him to her stepdaughter. + +“I don’t see her just now,” Sylvia Annesley had said, with the smile he +had once known so well, “but if you will come with me we shall easily +find her!” + +“No, thank you, Sylvia; I don’t care for little girls.” + +Lord Levallion had the rudest drawl in the world when it pleased him, +and he enjoyed Lady Annesley’s rage at it now. It was all very well to +write her a note by way of amusing himself on a wet day, but it was +another story to have her introduce him to a bread-and-butter miss. + +“The woman wears well, though,” he reflected, as he adroitly drifted +away from her. “Who would imagine it was fifteen years since I loved +and rode away! I think a cigarette might assist me to endure to the +end, if I can get away from this madding crowd. I’ll get back to town +to-morrow, that’s one thing certain. The country is less in my line +than ever.” + +He pursued his leisurely way through the magnificent old gardens, round +the end of the lake, and finally found a seat on a retired bench in +the heart of a grove of trees. There was not a soul to be seen, and if +it had not been for the mellow sound of a distant band Lord Levallion +would not even have been reminded that he was at a party. He had smoked +one cigarette, and was lighting another with a contented sigh, when he +heard a quick step and a rustle of silk which caused him to look up +sharply. Pray the gods Sylvia had not tracked him! + +But it was not Sylvia. It was a strange girl, all in white from her +hat to her shoes, and she did not even see him as she walked toward +him along the quiet path where the light came dim and green through +overarching boughs. She was magnificently handsome--and she was blind +with tears that streamed down her face. Her white gown trailed unheeded +on the gravel as she fumbled in her pocket for a handkerchief. + +“Something must be very wrong,” Levallion reflected swiftly, “to make +her ruin her skirt round the hem!” + +But even in her tears she was gloriously beautiful, and he was not +going to let her pass him. + +Lord Levallion got up, dropped his cigarette, and took off his hat. + +“I beg your pardon,” he said gravely. “I will go.” But he did not move. + +Ravenel Annesley started furiously. + +“I didn’t see you,” she said, with a sob in her throat. “I thought +there was no one here. And--I wanted to be alone.” + +She wiped the tears from her eyes savagely, with a morsel of a +handkerchief; but they came again, and Levallion saw her chest lift +with an uncontrollable sob. + +“Do you want to stop crying?” he said quietly. + +Ravenel stamped her foot. + +“Of course I do, but I can’t!” she cried childishly. + +“Then don’t be alone,” he returned. “If you stay by yourself you will +cry till you are not fit to be seen. Sit down here by me instead, and +talk. Oh, I know you’re wishing me miles away; but just try it! When +you get to my age you will find it is always better to stop crying.” + +His voice was cool and hard. It came on her nerves like iced water. She +did not answer him, but she sat down on a corner of the bench limply, +as if her feet could carry her no longer. + +“Do you mind my cigarette? No,” as she shook her small, averted head. +“Then I will smoke. Don’t rub your eyes unless you want the whole world +to know you’ve been crying,” looking down his nose at the cigarette he +was lighting. “And the more you have been crying the less you probably +want people to know it.” + +“No one would have known it if you hadn’t been here!” she said angrily. +“Now I suppose you’ll tell the duchess.” + +“Why the duchess?” Anything to make her talk. It was a sin to let so +lovely a face be cried into hideousness. He hoped devoutly she would +not blow her nose! Women usually did when they cried. + +“It’s her party, so you must know her. And I don’t know whether you +know any one else or not.” + +“I have not the honor of knowing you, at all events,” he returned +coolly. “So that I couldn’t tell the duchess if I wanted to--which I +don’t.” + +“It doesn’t matter who I am.” She bit her handkerchief desperately. “I +wish I was anybody--I wish I were dead!” + +“That is a wish you are certain to get--in time! It’s not worth while +to cry because you despair of it,” blandly. + +“I’m not crying.” She turned her small, white face to him, and her eyes +were dry, if her lip still quivered. + +“No, but you are extremely unhappy,” looking at her as indifferently as +if he were not taking in every point in her lovely, mutinous face. + +“So would you be. At least, I don’t know,” with frank rudeness. +“Perhaps at your age you would not care.” + +She bestowed a look on him for the first time, but without a shade +of coquetry. The man might have been a tree or a stone for all she +card. It was not the way women usually regarded Lord Levallion, and it +interested him. He turned his high-bred, worn face, with the lines of +forty-seven years on it, toward her with a keen glance which somehow +reminded her of Adrian. The thought brought a fresh lump in her throat. + +“I wish I could go home,” she said miserably. “I--I’ve lost something, +and I’d like to get home and look for it. If it wouldn’t make a hue and +cry I’d walk home now.” + +She had not had one happy minute since discovering her ring was gone. +Had turned from the wondering Tommy, digging for his beer in the +parsley, and run up-stairs like a frantic, raging child, to the door of +Lady Annesley’s room. And there something stopped her like a tangible +thing. She stood motionless, with clenched hands, felt cold in the warm +May air that flooded through an open window. Why had she come running +up here like a fool, when she knew she dared not open that shut door +in front of her and demand her ring of the woman inside? + +“If I said Adrian had given me a ring she’d never let me set eyes on +him again!” she thought, with more truth than she knew. “She knows I +never had a ring. She’d ask--and what could I say? I might lie, but +it’s no use to lie to a liar; they know too much. And, perhaps, she +hasn’t taken it--perhaps I dropped it! I was out in the garden before +breakfast. I’ll wait! I’ll tell Adrian to-morrow. It’s no use to give +myself away for nothing.” + +And here was to-morrow--and no Adrian. Man after man of his regiment +she had seen, but she knew none of them. She could not go up to strange +men and clamor for news of Adrian Gordon. Her heart felt like a stone +when it grew too late to expect the man for whom she had come in that +white gown that felt as if it burned her. She had slipped away from the +crowd, away from Sylvia, like a child who cannot keep a brave front +any longer. Where was Adrian? And how was she to bear the rest of this +dreadful party? + +“How far is ‘home’?” Levallion said suddenly. + +“I don’t know. Five miles and more. I can’t walk in these,” with a +sudden glance at her white suède shoes. “I’d ruin them--and they’re not +mine. They and everything else were put on me in hopes that a horrid +old man might admire me. Thank goodness, I haven’t even seen him! And I +wouldn’t have spoken to him if I had!” + +A sudden light arose on Lord Levallion’s horizon. This must be Sylvia’s +stepdaughter. + +“Ah!” he commented grimly. “What old man? Levallion?” + +Ravenel nodded. + +“She did not say so, of course, but I feel sure of it. Why? Do you know +him?” + +“As well as most people.” But he said it without much spirit. It did +not somehow amuse him to be considered “a horrid old man.” He got up, +rather stiffly. + +“If you want to go home,” he said, “I will drive you. I am no more +interested in this party than you. I will get a pony-cart at the +stables and meet you at the turn of the avenue. It will fill up my time +till dinner.” + +“There isn’t going to be any dinner,” crossly. “There’s going to be +supper, and the duchess has asked me to stay and dance afterward. If I +have to stay here till eleven o’clock I sha’n’t be able to stand it.” + +“Then don’t stay. You don’t”--the “horrid old man” rankled--“look fit +to be seen in any case! If your chaperon is going to stay to supper, I +will find her when I come back and tell her I took you home.” + +“Will you?” Her face grew almost happy. She cared nothing at all for +appearances, or that she had not been introduced to this stranger, who +stood looking at her with cynical kindness. + +“Yes! Come along,” he returned abruptly. “You needn’t thank me. I’m +very much bored, and I’m going for my own amusement.” + +“But how can you tell my stepmother, Lady Annesley? Do you know her?” + +“You can write it,” producing a neat gold pencil and note-book and +tearing out a leaf. + +He watched her while she wrote. Truly Sylvia had done well to dress her +all in white! Most women tried to please you without consulting your +tastes, but Sylvia had not forgotten that he thought white the only +wear for a pretty woman. + +“There!” The girl handed him a scribbled note nervously. “You will be +sure to give it to Lady Annesley?” + +“I promise you,” with grave politeness. “Now, if you will be at the +turn of the avenue in ten minutes I will have the cart there.” + +Ravenel nodded. If it were twenty miles she would go home. She could +not bear another half-hour at this miserable party. + +There was not a soul to be seen as she sprang lightly up into the high, +two-wheeled cart, never even asking how her strange friend was able +to order out the duchess’ own pony. She leaned back wearily as they +started, and the man beside her was too wise to try to make her talk. + +In silence they drove through the quiet country lanes, the setting sun +reddening the bronze of the girl’s hair and lending a false color to +her listless face. When they reached the open door of Annesley Chase, +she was down like a flash before he could get out. + +“Thank you--oh, a hundred times!” she cried gratefully. “You will give +Lady Annesley her note at once, won’t you?” + +“At once,” lifting his hat. But the girl had run into the house. + +Now was her time, while Lady Annesley was out. She tore off the smart +white gown she had put on so carefully, and threw it on the floor. Then +she got out Adrian Gordon’s letter and looked at it feverishly. There +it was in black and white: “I can go to the duchess’. I was afraid I +couldn’t manage it.” + +Well, something must have happened! But at least she was at home again; +she could look for her ring. And suppose he had not been able to go +to-day, what did it matter? To-morrow would be her wedding-day, and +after that nothing could come between them any more. + +Pale, trembling, her heart heavy as lead, in spite of herself, +she stole like a thief to her stepmother’s room. The Umbrella was +down-stairs, and Ravenel hunted quickly in every drawer and box. It +never struck her as being odd that they should be all unlocked, exactly +as if the more thoroughly they were searched the better for their +owner’s plans. And the girl, after thirty minutes, knew she looked in +vain. Her ring was not in the room. Somehow and somewhere she must have +lost it. She remembered that, like a fool, she had tied the ribbon in a +bow. It was utterly inexplicable except for that. + +As Ravenel crept away, utterly hopeless, Sylvia Annesley was standing +in the duchess’ drawing-room, with a heart that beat high in joyful +surprise. + +“What!” she cried incredulously, “you drove her home? But you did not +know her!” + +“I met her,” Lord Levallion returned dryly, “during the afternoon. You +had decked her out to meet the eye, hadn’t you?” + +But Lady Annesley did not flinch. Instead, she did not seem to have +heard his fleering voice. She had grown pale under her rouge, and she +laid a quick, insistent hand on his arm. + +“When did you go? What time?” she cried sharply. “And did you meet any +one on the road? Was there any one waiting at the Chase when you got +there?” + +“No. There was not, to my knowledge--any one!” with an exact imitation +of her tone. “No one either met or waylaid us.” + +So that was the reason of the tears! Madam Sylvia had somehow tricked +the girl into coming here, and now was frightened into her little shoes +for fear she had not stayed long enough. For Lady Annesley’s smile, for +once, was absent. + +“Tell them to get my carriage, will you?” she said slowly. “I must go, +too. That foolish, headstrong girl of mine may be ill. Perhaps you will +come over to-morrow?” + +To-morrow Lord Levallion had meant should see him in London. He shook +his head for sole answer, but decided to wait a day all the same. + +“Your stepdaughter seemed in excellent health when I left her,” he +observed, turning away to send for her ladyship’s carriage. “But, all +the same, I dare say you are wise to get home!” + +She looked quite old, he saw, in her sudden anxiety, and he wondered +cynically just what ailed her, for she scarcely said good-by as he saw +her into her shabby fly. + +That vehicle seemed to crawl to its impatient occupant. But at last she +reached her own door, with as quick a step as Ravenel’s own, her room, +where the Umbrella sat limply waiting. + +“Adams, what time did Miss Annesley get home?” she demanded sharply. +“Was there any one here? Quick! Any one?” + +The Umbrella rose stolidly. + +“Not when Miss Annesley came,” she said slowly, and her hearer thought +she did it on purpose. “Everything has been all quite right, my lady. A +gentleman called, though, and left his card.” + +“It doesn’t matter,” sharply, but she glanced at it with such relief +that her head swam, before she tore it to pieces. “It was no one I +minded missing.” + +“No, my lady.” And if there was the familiarity of a confidante in +the woman’s tone Lady Annesley did not notice it, nor that she neatly +collected the bits of torn card off the floor. + +Her ladyship felt really dizzy with fatigue, or emotion, as she flung +herself into a chair. + +“I’ll dine up here,” she said slowly. It was all right and her net +seemed to have caught Levallion, but such days were ageing. She had +fought her Waterloo, and she felt the reaction even of victory. Tired +to death, the weight of the rings on her slender hands felt unbearable. +Her ladyship rose softly and hastily and locked the gorgeous things +away. + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +HER WEDDING-DAY. + + +Half-past two o’clock, and her wedding-day! + +Ravenel Annesley looked at herself in the glass curiously as at +another person. She had on a clean white duck dress--having looked +with a shudder at yesterday’s unlucky silk and muslin--nothing of her +stepmother’s should go to her adorning on her wedding-day! But in her +plain white gown she was lovely, and with a keen thrill of joy she knew +it. Thank God, Adrian’s bride was pretty, even if she went to him in a +cotton gown! + +And in half an hour she would see him; tell him of her lost ring--for, +think as she might, she could not see how either Lady Annesley or her +maid could have taken or even seen it; her cotton slip bodice had been +carefully buttoned over it--of yesterday’s party, and of how she had +waited vainly for him. She opened her door and stole through the house. +She would not take Tommy. She would go alone to church with Adrian; all +alone, would promise and vow to be his always. She hurried through the +garden and down to the back gate. + +It was early still, and silly to expect him; yet she had a foolish +pang of disappointment as she looked up and down the empty white road +outside. + +“He’ll be here in a minute,” she said to herself confidently, “and then +I’ll feel happy again. I hope he won’t be angry about that ring. And I +wish I knew how I lost it!” + +She sat down in the shade just inside the gate and lost herself in a +happy dream. Some day--soon perhaps--Adrian would come back from India, +and carry her and Tommy off under her ladyship’s nose, who could go +anywhere she pleased, for the Chase was certain to be sold over her +head. + +“And I shouldn’t care. I’ve been too wretched here,” she thought +passionately. And then something startled her. + +The stable clock had rung. Why was Adrian late, who was always so early? + +“I never knew how awful it was to wait!” she cried, springing up. “I +feel as if I couldn’t sit still. I’ll walk up and down till I count a +thousand steps, and then I’ll look at the road again.” + +But she paced a thousand steps, and a thousand again; there was no sign +of Adrian Gordon. + +“Oh!” in spite of herself she trembled, “it can’t be going to be like +yesterday. He must be coming.” + +Her heart quaking, she wished she had brought Tommy. This was too +awful. The tears came to her eyes. She could not walk any longer, yet +how could she sit still? She shivered in the hot, sweet sun. + +“Oh, Adrian, hurry!” she whispered childishly, as if he must hear her; +and then sat down on the green bank by the road as if she were suddenly +weak. For the stable clock had struck four. + +It was a long lane, and no one passed by to see a girl in a white frock +sitting on the grass, careless of greening the spotless whiteness +of her wedding-gown; no one looked with a wondering eye at the sick +despair in her face, as she sat dumb and motionless--waiting for the +man who by this time should have been her husband. + +When the slow clock rang six, Ravenel Annesley got up, steadying +herself carefully. She was chilly and stiff, and though she did not +know it, broken-hearted. + +Truth and honor and love, dead letters to her, she looked once more +down the quiet lane to the quarry, where she and Adrian Gordon had +kissed with lips that were quick and kind. Well, he had spoken the +truth when he said she would have but a poor wedding-day! + +She crept home at last, white as her cotton gown. With only one +thought--to get unseen to her own room--she went into the house through +the open window of the drawing-room, where no one ever sat. But to-day +it was, for once, occupied. + +Fairly inside the French window before she saw the two people in the +room, she turned whiter than ever. + +Lady Annesley, in her best tea-gown, drinking tea; and beside her, the +low sun full on his handsome, sneering face, the strange man who had +driven her home last evening. Ravenel, by instinct, put up her hand to +cover her trembling lip. In her white gown, with her whiter face, she +looked like a ghost as she stood staring. + +Lord Levallion had the grace not to look at her as he came forward, +and took her cold, indifferent hand. Lady Annesley put down her cup +pettishly. + +“Why do you never come in by the door like a Christian?” she said. +“You quite startled me. Lord Levallion has come over to ask how you +are--after yesterday!” + +Lord Levallion? So this was he. Well, it was all one to her! There was +only one man in all the world who mattered to Ravenel Annesley, and he +had forsaken her. She turned to go, stumbling on the window-sill. + +“Come and sit down. You look tired to death,” commanded Lady Annesley, +and the taunt stung her stepdaughter. If her world had gone to pieces +like a pack of cards, there was no reason that her ladyship should know +it! She turned, sat down on the first chair she came to, and met Lord +Levallion’s eyes turned on her curiously. + +“Have you been walking? It’s too hot to walk,” he observed languidly. +“I got up early this morning and took my exercise: rode over to have +breakfast with Captain Gordon of the ---- Hussars. Do you know him?” + +Lady Annesley was livid in her fright. She had not dared confide in +Levallion--and what was going to be the result? + +“Yes, I know him,” Ravenel said evenly. She had her hat in her lap and +was playing with the pin out of it. + +“You know he went off to India to-day, then, by the first train for +Southampton. I rather took him by surprise, for he left me in London. I +can’t say I had a cheerful breakfast. Every one seemed so cast down at +his leaving--but I enjoyed my ride.” + +Thank God she could not get any paler! And the Annesleys were ever +proud. This one, who was but a child and hurt to the heart, kept her +face steady. + +“Yes,” she said, and her voice sounded quite natural, for she heard it +as though it were some one else’s. “Why? Was Captain Gordon dull?” + +“Extremely noisy, on the contrary. Delighted, evidently, to be getting +away.” + +But she heard Levallion’s answer through the whirl of a hundred +thoughts that seemed to sound and move in her head. Adrian had gone +to India!--gone without a word of good-by, broken all his promises, +forsaken her with a false, lying letter. Oh, Adrian, Adrian! + +Desperately, like a savage, Ravenel stuck her steel hat-pin straight +into her finger, and the sharp pain steadied her. She must not--dare +not--think of him now. Whatever happened she must be brave before her +ladyship and Levallion. And that wild cry at her heart was stifling +her. Oh, Adrian--Adrian! + +“What’s the matter? Have you cut your hand?” cried her stepmother +shrilly. Levallion was no fool; he had probably put two and two +together already! She was thankful to see a tangible reason for the +girl’s strange pallor and quietude. + +Ravenel nodded. Not for anything in the world could she have spoken +without giving voice to that cry in her soul to Adrian Gordon, who was +on the sea. + +If Sylvia Annesley had known it, nothing else in the world would have +so softened Lord Levallion’s heart to the girl she meant him to marry +as the sight of her sitting pale as death and as proud. + +“God! there’s stuff in the child!” he reflected swiftly. “And I’ll +help her. Madam Sylvia’s been up to some low trick with her, I’ll lay +my life!” but his voice was cooler than usual as he quietly cut off +another question from that much-tried woman. + +“That pin has gone through your finger, Miss Annesley,” he interposed +quietly. “You should go at once and bathe it with hot water. They are +nasty things--hat-pins,” and he rose composedly and opened the door for +Ravenel to leave the room. + +If any one had told her three days ago that she would ever have been +grateful to Lord Levallion she would have laughed in their face. But +now she looked at him as a caged bird might do when suddenly set free; +like the bird, slipped through the door he had opened for her, dumb +and dazed, but--thank God!--safe away from Sylvia’s eyes. + +Lord Levallion returned to his seat. + +“What have you been doing to that child, Sylvia?” he inquired harshly. +“You have delicately suggested you would like me to marry her, but I +warn you it is no use trying to force either her or me into it. If I +want to marry her I shall, but it’s not any too likely. And the more +you scheme the less I shall probably oblige you.” + +“What makes you think anything so absurd?” angrily. + +“My dear lady, I put two and two together. First, you write to me, and +I have not heard from you for years. Then you are eager that I should +meet the girl. Last, I come here, and find you poor--unbearably poor, +for you! And a good marriage for the girl would mean a competence for +you, and I am the only man you know with money. So you find out I am +staying with the duchess, dress your lamb for the slaughter, and make +her life miserable so that she will fly to my arms. Eh, Sylvia?” slowly. + +Lady Annesley grew redder than her rouge. Levallion was too shrewd for +once, and overshot himself. But it was better he should think Ravenel +unhappy at home than suspect she was sick for the sight of Adrian +Gordon. + +“I--we--don’t get on! It is a grief to me,” she said prettily. + +Levallion smiled. Any other man would have laughed outright; but he was +not given to laughter. Fancy Sylvia--Sylvia!--scheming and match-making +for him. It was better than any play. She had been clever, too, to have +found out that he was thinking of marrying. He was forty-seven years +old, and had no one to inherit either title or estates but his second +cousin. If Lady Annesley had known her peerage better, she might have +thought twice of meddling with Adrian Gordon’s love-affairs. + +“I should advise you to try and get on--while I am here,” he broke the +pause abruptly. “I do not like jars and tears.” + +Lady Annesley trembled. She saw her dreams of Levallion’s country +houses and a comfortable allowance--above all, a position as Lady +Levallion’s mother--fading into thin air. + +“The girl is dull here,” she said. “I can’t help it. She wants a +change, I suppose, and I can’t give it to her.” + +“Take her to town for a week.” + +Her ladyship looked at him, her beautiful delicate face for once +sincere. + +“Walk there, camp in Piccadilly, walk home again!” she observed. “What +a delightful program! That is the only way I could manage it.” + +“Perhaps so,” returned Lord Levallion equably, and rose to go. He +had his own thoughts on the subject, but as yet they did not burn to +be made public. He meant to come over again before he went to town +himself, but he did not mention that, either. He would not come to see +Sylvia, nor did he wish to be considered her ally. + +Sir Thomas Annesley, from a convenient post on the stairs, watched the +visitor’s exit, and then repaired with haste to his sister’s room. + +“Ravenel, let me in, I say!” he demanded, pounding on the door. + +But he got no answer. + +Ravenel, face down, lay on her bed convulsed with rage and shame to +think that she should be crying herself sick for Adrian Gordon, who had +left her like a dog he was tired of--left her with lying promises he +had not cared to keep--and taken the best part of her with him. + +“Ravenel, let me in, can’t you? I want to speak to you!” Sir Thomas’ +persistent pounding reached her deaf ears at last. + +She got up trembling and began to bathe her stained face with cold +water. + +“I can’t, Tommy! I--I’m washing,” she called out angrily. + +“Well, hurry up and I’ll wait!” + +Ravenel, sponge in hand, flung the door open. + +“Come in and be done!” she cried. “What is it?” + +Her face was blotched and patchy with crying, and the boy’s eyes +kindled as he saw it. + +“What’s that brute Levallion been saying to you?” he demanded. “And +what’s Gordon gone off for like this?” + +“He’s gone off because he’s sick of me; he’s thrown me over.” She spoke +brutally. She was not going to gloss things over to Tommy. “And Lord +Levallion hasn’t done anything. He’s the only decent person I know,” +with which the door banged once more in Sir Thomas’ face. + +Gordon sick of her--and Levallion decent! The boy was dumb with +amazement. She would be praising her ladyship next. He went slowly away +and sought Mr. Jacobs. + +“My good dog,” he said disgustedly to that villainous animal, “there’s +going to be trouble!” + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +A VERY CLEVER PERSON. + + +Lord Levallion and the Duchess of Avonmore sat at breakfast in the +duchess’ own sitting-room. It was one of her habits seldom to breakfast +with her guests, but to have one chosen companion at her own table. +Avonmore was Liberty Hall since the death of the duke, who had not been +exactly a comfortable partner for his handsome wife. She never allowed, +even to herself, that she was happier without him, but the world knew +it, as it knows everything unpublished. + +She sat now in a Norfolk jacket and a short skirt, making an extensive +breakfast. Since seven o’clock she had been tramping from her dairy to +her hen walks, as thriftily as any farmer’s wife. But her handsome, +weather-beaten face, with its shrewd, keen eyes, and her beautifully +dressed white hair, made her look dignified, in spite of her short +skirts and her full-blown figure. + +Lord Levallion was drinking a cup of tea--very slowly--and looking at +some dry toast with distaste. He had not been trudging in the morning +air, and had had a bad night into the bargain. But the duchess and he +were old friends, and he did not trouble himself to make conversation. + +She shook her head at him as she saw his untouched breakfast. + +“That’s not the way to get to a green old age, Levallion!” she observed +as she took a second helping of bacon. “But I suppose it’s London +habits that stick by you. Are you really off this morning?” He nodded. + +“Surely you’re coming up again soon?” inquiringly, for she had been +tempted into the country for a week by the perfect weather, and had +stayed to give her yearly garden-party and get it over. “You will be +losing the cream of things! + +“I’m going up next week. To tell you the truth, Levallion, I feel +lonely when I get to my town house and haven’t my dairy and my +chickens to amuse me! It’s a big, desolate barrack, you know, and I +hate it. If I’d had a daughter to bring out it might be different,” +wistfully, “but without a chick or a child what are town parties to me?” + +“Adopt one!” said Levallion, not unkindly. + +The duchess shook her head. + +“Too risky! But I thought of having some girl to stay with me, if I +could find the right girl.” + +“You’ve two nieces!” Levallion was clever; not a tone of his +uninterested voice betrayed that he had an object in his idle talk. + +“Odious brats!” returned the duchess sharply. They were the late duke’s +nieces, not hers. “I couldn’t stand either of them for a day. The only +girl I’ve seen and taken a fancy to is that nice-looking child of +old Tom Annesley’s. But I don’t want to have any dealings with that +yellow-haired stepmother of hers. I beg your pardon, Levallion! I +forgot you were a friend of hers.” + +Lord Levallion looked up, a curious expression on his pale, handsome +face. + +“You need not beg my pardon,” he said. “But I assure you Lady Annesley +is--a very clever person!” + +“She’s a detestable one!” retorted the duchess smartly. “And I don’t +think those children have much of a life with her. I declare, you +might have knocked me down with a feather when I saw the girl here in +a decent gown the other day! Usually her clothes are disgraceful; last +winter that woman used to let her go about blue with cold.” Her grace +of Avonmore, being a duchess, did not trouble to talk like one, except +to people she disliked. And she had a soft spot for Levallion, in spite +of his record. + +His lordship hid a grin in his teacup. So he had been correct in his +little idea that it was for him Sylvia had prepared her lamb! + +“Miss Annesley looked hopelessly unhappy in her fine clothes,” he said +smoothly, “but extraordinarily handsome, in spite of her tears.” He +pulled himself up sharply as if the last word had slipped out unawares. + +“Tears!” The duchess stared at him. “What do you mean? I remember now. +She never said good-by to me. I don’t like to think of Tom Annesley’s +girl crying at my party. How do you know?” + +“Saw her,” laconically. “Gave her some good advice and drove her home. +She never spoke to me the whole way.” + +A light dawned on the duchess. + +“So that,” she observed slowly, “was where you went to! You’re not a +good friend for any girl, Levallion, and I won’t have it with Tom’s +daughter. Mind that! I shall drive over and see that child this +afternoon. I’ve been a neglectful old woman not to have looked after +her before.” + +She pushed away her empty plate and got up. Levallion strolled meekly +to the window, where he lit a cigarette. The duchess was a good woman, +and Sylvia Annesley was--otherwise! But it was the latter who had +discovered he was ready to marry and settle down at last. The duchess +only remembered the women he had compromised; it never struck her that +he might actually think of marrying a little country girl of eighteen. +If it had, she would probably have put a spoke in his wheel; to have +known Levallion for thirty years was not to envy his future countess. + +Yet to marry Ravenel Annesley was the only thought the man had. The day +before he had cleverly evaded Sylvia and paid an impromptu visit to +Annesley Chase by the back gate; a piece of diplomacy for which he was +rewarded by coming straight on Ravenel in the garden. + +She was alone; her little chin had lifted angrily when she saw him, +but the next moment she was ashamed. After all, he had been kind to +her twice. She had nothing against him except that he was a friend of +Sylvia’s. + +Levallion was too wise to stay long, though there were no tears--and no +hat-pins!--to-day. Her face was as cold as his lordship’s own, and her +indifference more real. He might go or stay, as he liked--and he knew +it. + +But he carried away with him the memory of her strangely quiet face, +uncannily, clearly pale as she walked up and down the garden paths. + +“There goes Lady Levallion!” he thought, as certainly as if she stood +by him at the altar. “And the sooner she is away from that devil Sylvia +the better. Sylvia was always a genius at making people miserable, and +the girl looks as though she beat her!” + +In spite of his acuteness, he never thought--or, perhaps, would not +have cared if he had--that another man had been the cause of that white +face and somber eyes; nor that he himself had never seen the real +Ravenel Annesley, all life and laughter, but only the ghost of a girl +whose youth was dead in her. It annoyed him to fall in with Sylvia’s +schemes, but, after all, that was a trifle; and he knew how to cut her +claws a little. Therefore, with security and determination, Levallion +laid siege to the duchess; and he smiled calmly as she bade good-by to +him. + +“Au revoir till next week,” he said, as they shook hands. + +“Humph!” her grace coughed dryly. “I’ll send for you when I want you, +my dear Levallion.” + +Levallion chuckled when he got, rather stiffly, into the carriage. He +was warned off. That meant Tom Annesley’s daughter was to be asked to +Avonmore House. His lordship was more pleased than by a dozen cordial +invitations. + +The duchess, the instant his back was turned, proceeded to Annesley +Chase in state, though she would far rather have gone on her bicycle. +Lady Annesley was, providentially, out. Miss Annesley--Adams did not +know. + +“Then find out, my good girl,” remarked the duchess calmly sweeping by +her into the house. She was not to be turned from Tom Annesley’s door +by the servant of his twopenny second wife. “And fetch Sir Thomas,” +majestically. + +But Tommy had seen her coming and arrived hastily on the scene. He +looked worried, and the duchess saw it. + +“Where’s your sister, Tommy?” she said kindly. + +The boy looked at her. She was the oldest friend they had, but even so, +his sister’s secret was her own. + +“She’s in the garden; she’s not very well,” he returned loyally. If +Ravenel were fretting for Gordon there was no good in saying so. “Shall +I call her for you?” + +“Suppose we go to her!” slipping a stout arm through his. “Not well? +What’s the matter with her?” + +Tommy was appalled for one instant. + +“Dyspepsia,” he said stoutly, with a flash of genius. + +“Oh!” commented the duchess dryly. “Very like a whale in a +butter-boat,” she added to herself, as she glanced at Ravenel, who rose +from her knees in the garden as she heard the rustle of the duchess’ +silk-lined skirts on the gravel. + +“I beg your pardon for not coming in,” the girl faltered. “I thought +you were Lady Annesley.” She looked doubtfully at her earthy hands and +the visitor’s smart, white gloves. + +The duchess, in spite of her parting words to Levallion, had not come +with any definite purpose; but the sight of the girl’s white face and +hard-set lips--more than all the glance of shuddering aversion she had +given her, thinking she was her stepmother--brought a sudden rush of +motherly tears to her kind, worldly-wise eyes. + +“Never mind your hands!” she cried, sitting down on a wicker chair +that creaked under her; “nor Lady Annesley either. I didn’t come to +see her--I suppose there’s no one about to hear such treason!” with a +hasty glance behind her. “I came to see you. I didn’t think you looked +well the other day at my house”--really, the girl’s fresh beauty had +astounded her--“and I came to ask you and Tommy to take pity on a +lonely old woman and come to London with me for a month,” with a nod +at the two which set the green and pink feathers on her smart bonnet +wagging. “What do you say?” + +“Oh, my eye--rather!” Sir Thomas forgot his manners in his joy. But the +duchess was looking at Ravenel. She had not been prepared to see such a +change in the pale, sick face. + +To get away from Lady Annesley and the place that had grown hateful to +her for a whole month--she and Tommy! A slow red burned into her cheeks +at the thought, but a second after her face fell again. She could not +go; she had no clothes fit to wear. Tommy was different; a boy did not +matter. But she herself had not so much as a decent pair of gloves to +wear up in the train. + +“We--that is, I can’t!” she blurted out miserably. + +“Why not? Because you’ve nothing to wear?” shrewdly. + +“No!” with no truth and a red face, for her old friend must not think +she was begging. “I just can’t.” + +“Do you want to come?” slowly. + +No answer. The girl’s lip was trembling at the kindness of the motherly +voice. + +The duchess looked at her. + +“You do! Then that’s all right,” cheerfully. “As for gowns, I mean +to give you those. I haven’t got any one to spend my money on except +some horrid chits of nieces who don’t need it. That will be half the +pleasure of having you. And I’ll settle it with your stepmother.” + +But Ravenel was crying--sobbing from her sick heart against the +duchess’ smart shoulder. + +“My dear, I know,” said that soft-hearted lady incoherently, muttering +to herself things about “that woman, who did not know how to treat +Tom’s child.” And she had, like Levallion before her, never an inkling +of Adrian Gordon’s part in the play. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +HER LADYSHIP SHUFFLES THE CARDS. + + +Lady Annesley sat in speechless fury over the note that arrived from +the duchess the very next morning. + +About her was spread her whole wardrobe, which she had been looking +over with the eye of a born milliner, quite certain that Levallion’s +hints about London had meant he would give her the money to take +Ravenel there. And this--with a vicious glance at the duchess’ +letter--was their real meaning! + +“For, of course, it’s all Levallion!” She drummed angrily on her knee +with slim, white fingers. “I have half a mind to checkmate him. He +might, considering everything, have sent me to town. But for me he +never would have seen his pink-and-white doll.” + +She threw the duchess’ letter on a table, where it hit a pile of +other letters--blue enveloped, ominous--and sent them rustling to the +floor. They were merely the quarter’s bills from the butcher and the +wine-merchant for those luxuries Sylvia Annesley could never deny +herself, but she picked them up with a vicious hand. + +“It’s well for you, Levallion, that I haven’t a penny to pay these, or +you might whistle for my lovely stepdaughter!” she said aloud. “But I +can’t stand five more years like this before Tom comes of age. Five +more years of dulness, of skimping, without a soul to speak to, and +then the prospect of turning out of this and living on nothing a week +in lodgings--no! it’s not to be done!” + +She went to the glass and looked at herself feverishly, pushing back +her curled golden hair from her temples, dragging up the blinds till +the unkind daylight made her look every hour of her age. + +“I’m getting old--old and hideous!” she stamped with passion. “I who +love youth and good looks and life. Why did I ever bury myself here +with the old fool who’s dead? Oh, I want to go out into the world +again--to live! To dine, dress, and gamble, to make fools of men--that +is life. And that girl’s marriage to Levallion is the only way I shall +ever see it again. He shall marry her if I have to swallow my pride ten +times over. He’d have to give me an allowance that would not disgrace +Lady Levallion’s mother! Ravenel shall go to the duchess; Levallion +will take care no other man gets a chance at her”--in spite of her rage +with him, she was secure in her old knowledge of his cleverness--“and I +will stay here and try to help things on!” with a pale smile. + +She went to the door and locked it, then to her dressing-case and +dragged out a photograph. For a minute she stood and stared at it, +biting her lips. + +“I can’t do anything with it,” she thought angrily. “And I daren’t +trust any one--but----” With swift inspiration a thought had come to +her. + +“Hester Murray!” she cried half-aloud. “Hester can tell her a bit +of--truth! The silly old duchess will never imagine that Hester and +I are old acquaintances--Hester, who runs in and out of Avonmore to +help me; if she doesn’t I’ll make an unpleasant squall in the Murray +mansion. This match-making,” with a little laugh, “is most amusing.” + +Her ill humor gone utterly, she sat down at her writing-table and +constructed a letter to make her old friend shake in her shoes, in +spite of its affection. She sealed up her letter and the photograph, +for Hester might not have one, and then turned her attention to +something else. + +“I have a great mind to get rid of Adams,” she thought. “She is getting +beyond herself. But I’ll wait a little; she might talk. And, after +all, ‘better a devil you know than a devil you don’t know’!” forcibly. +“Though I doubt if Hester will think so,” with a curious look, as if +something had come back from the past and pleased her. + +“Well,” she said half-aloud, “I suppose the duchess will deck out my +dear stepdaughter in purple and fine linen, but unless I want to look +a beast, I suppose I ought to provide her with at least one gown. I, +who haven’t two coins to rub together nowadays. She wouldn’t wear my +clothes if I gave them to her, and I’ve no desire to part with them. +I don’t care to interview her, either. She does hate me so!” for her +ladyship’s wits at least were young still, whatever her eyes might be. + +“I must do the best I can,” she said thoughtfully; and there alone in +the little rose-colored room did a curious thing, for Lady Annesley, +not for a woman who loved her dead husband’s child. She took a ruby +ring from her finger and slipped it in a note quickly written and +addressed to her stepdaughter. It was a simple little effort enough, +saying merely that she had received from the duchess an invitation for +Tom and Ravenel to spend a month with her in London and would accept +for them with pleasure if they cared to go. + +“As for gowns,” it ran, “I will do the best I can for you, but as that +may be small just now, I send you this ring, which you can wear or turn +into money, as you choose. It is one your father gave me. I would send +for you to talk over your frocks, but my neuralgia is terrific to-day.” + +She rang for Adams to deliver the note and waited for her to come back +with a curious anxiety. It looked well to be generous, but she hated +giving away her rubies. It seemed half a year before the maid returned +with--yes--with a note! + +Lady Annesley tore it open, and her strained lips grew triumphant. She +had been generous at no cost whatever. + + “Thank you very much”--Ravenel had written with furious haste, having + no mind for any more of her ladyship’s gifts--“but I don’t want + to keep your ring. I send it back in this. You had better wear it + yourself. + + “RAVENEL.” + +That was absolutely all. Lady Annesley slipped her recovered ring on +her finger. + +“You can go, Adams,” she said carelessly. But when she was alone she +laughed a laugh that showed her gums. + +“I’ll have my house in town,” she gasped. “You’re a clever man, +Levallion, but you’ll never know who is helping me to get you married. +I’ll take care that you go on thinking me a fool. But to make Hester +Murray help to get you--it’s too good!” She wiped her eyes where she +sat helpless with laughter. + +“Hester!” she murmured, “of all people.” + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +“A BIT OF THE TRUTH.” + + +The Duchess of Avonmore was worried. + +She had carried her point and walked off Tom Annesley’s children to her +big town house in Park Lane. She had given Ravenel such dresses as her +own nieces would have sold their souls for, had done her best to make +each day more pleasant than the last, and the only result was that one +fine morning she sat alone with Ravenel, absolutely at a loss. + +Sir Thomas was perfectly happy, new clothes and a horse to ride having +made his countenance to shine as the sun. But Ravenel! the poor duchess +sighed. + +The girl was pathetically grateful for the benefits showered on +her, and showed a clinging affection for the duchess that came near +to bringing the tears to that good woman’s eyes; but there was no +happiness in her face. She went everywhere; she was gay as if by an +effort that sapped her strength, for each day she grew paler, her +lovely lips more hard set. There was neither elation nor triumph in her +eyes when women envied her or men admired her. + +“Most girls would be off their heads with pleasure,” reflected the +duchess. “That woman must have broken her spirit somehow. I wish I +could find out what ails her.” + +Tommy could have enlightened her, but he had been sworn to keep his +mouth shut. And in the dark the poor duchess did the very worst thing +possible. + +“Ravenel,” she said cheerfully, “here’s an invitation for you. Mrs. +Murray wants you to lunch with her to-day. She is a great friend of +mine--poor little woman! She will cheer you up.” + +“I don’t need it,” with a grateful glance. She would rather have stayed +with Tommy, but the duchess did not like her plans gainsaid. + +Ravenel, getting out of the carriage at the door of Mrs. Murray’s small +house in Eaton Place, stood on the doorstep just long enough for her +pale-pink gown to catch the eye of a man lounging at a window in the +opposite house. + +“Humph!” said Lord Levallion curiously, “what’s the meaning of this? +Nothing, I suppose, but that Grace Avonmore’s an idiot!” + +He watched the girl in and rang for his servant. + +“I’ll lunch up here, Lacy,” he said curtly, “and I’m not at home to +visitors.” + +At that moment Ravenel stood in a small room so full of flowers and +pale silk cushions that she wondered why the duchess had said Mrs. +Murray was poor. Even Ravenel Annesley saw the money that had been +lavished in that luxurious drawing-room. + +Mrs. Murray rose to greet her. She had every reason to oblige Lady +Annesley by being civil to her stepdaughter. Sylvia was a poor +friend and a good enemy, and Mrs. Murray’s footing in smart society +was precarious enough. Little did the duchess imagine how much her +countenance did for “Bob Murray’s poor wife.” Without it people might +have said for “poor Bob Murray’s wife.” + +“My dear Miss Annesley,” she said--and was nearly overwhelmed at the +dazzling beauty of the girl--“this is too good of you. I have been +longing to see you, but I have been so unlucky.” + +“It is very kind of you to have me. The duchess is busy to-day,” and no +one would have known the voice and manner for Ravenel’s. + +Something in the air of the room seemed choking her, something cried +loudly in her ear that the very pains of death lay waiting for her at +the hands of this small, dainty woman with the clear blue eyes and pink +cheeks. + +“She is so energetic.” Mrs. Murray laughed wonderingly. “I don’t know +how she does it. I hope you won’t be bored lunching alone with me. The +duchess said we might go to Hurlingham afterward!”--where Mrs. Murray +in the Avonmore carriage would sail serenely over her detractors. + +“Whatever you like.” Ravenel looked at the slight figure of her hostess +in an innocent fawn-colored gown, and wondered why she did not like +her. Lord Levallion could have told her, but so far he had not shown +himself on the Avonmore House horizon. She sat down at luncheon almost +sullenly, and by degrees, in spite of herself, thawed. Few people had +Hester Murray’s manner when she chose, and on her success with this +listless, beautiful girl her future depended. Sylvia was viciously +unscrupulous, and the trifle she asked should be done well. + +Besides, it was amusing! Mrs. Murray hated girls, and this one looked +at the rich appointments of the dining-room far too cleverly when her +hostess murmured something about her small means. + +“I don’t call this poor,” Ravenel said calmly. “You should see us at +home.” + +“Oh, I try not to look poor!” sweetly. “I really manage my poor Bob’s +income very well. I am quite proud of my housekeeping.” + +She had excellent reason, if drunken Bob Murray’s uncertain income paid +the bills. Every one--but the duchess--knew it did not, but no one was +clever enough to know just what did. If Sylvia were not pleased all +London would know--and more besides. Mrs. Murray rose gracefully from +the luncheon-table. + +“It is a crime for you to be poor,” she said with pretty flattery, “for +a middle-aged person like me it doesn’t so much matter; though I don’t +know,” sighing. “Physical comfort makes up for a good many sorrows.” + +“I don’t think so.” Ravenel, with every wish gratified and a raging +pain at her heart, could not keep back the cry. + +“You will some day,” musingly. “But, my dear girl, don’t let us +moralize! I will go and put on my hat. Perhaps you can amuse yourself +till I come back.” + +There was a glass over the mantelpiece, and under it a long row of +framed photographs. Mechanically, as soon as she was alone, Ravenel +looked to see if her big black hat were straight. Even misery does not +allow a girl to go about with a crooked hat. + +But after the first glance at the crowded mantelshelf, where gold and +silver and ivory frames jostled each other, she took no more thought to +her apparel. + +In front of her, staring her in the face, was a likeness of Adrian +Gordon. She had no photograph of him and this strange woman had. The +girl’s throat thickened--filled. + +He had played with her, thrown her over, made her a laughing-stock to +herself; yet his pictured face sickened her with longing. She could +have followed him through the world, just to see him sometimes, never +even asking to speak to him. In a passion of despair she seized the +photograph and kissed it as she had never kissed Adrian Gordon in life. + +“Adrian,” she whispered, “there must have been something I didn’t +know to make you leave me like that! You didn’t really--Adrian!” The +incoherent, senseless words left her shaking. She had no time to put +down the photograph as Mrs. Murray came in, but stood with blazing +cheeks and the living light of passion in her eyes, that had been so +indifferent. + +“Do you know him?” she said, caring for nothing but to hear whatever +she could of him, even from a stranger. + +Mrs. Murray laughed. + +“Adrian--Captain Gordon--do you mean? He is very good-looking, isn’t +he? Of course, I know him; do you?” + +Ravenel turned and, very carefully, replaced the picture. Her back was +toward her hostess, but her face was plain in the mirror. Her mouth +felt so stiff she could scarcely speak. + +“I know him--a little; he has gone to India, I think.” + +“Yes; poor man, I fancy he had to! Mrs. Gordon,” airily, “is not a +cheap luxury.” + +“Mrs. Gordon!” the room swam. “Do you mean he was married?” + +“It was a boyish madness, if he was; but Mrs. Gordon exists, I’m +afraid. Don’t, for Heaven’s sake, say I told you; it would ruin him +with Lord Levallion. She is very unhappy, and has been a frightful +drain on Captain Gordon. But I must say it hasn’t prevented his +enjoying himself. Poor Adrian is one of the most hopeless flirts I +know. You won’t,” pleadingly, “say anything to Levallion?” + +Ravenel looked at her. It was queer how cold she felt, and how +passionless--now she knew why Adrian had not come. + +“The ‘gay Gordons’ are a proverb, aren’t they?” she said, and found she +could smile quite easily. “Captain Gordon is only an acquaintance of +mine; you may be sure I shall not mention him to Lord Levallion, whom +I barely know.” For a moment her manner staggered even Hester Murray, +till she saw the girl’s face had grown haggard. + +“One can’t tell all one knows,” she said lightly. “Shall we go out now?” + +She was elated as she followed her guest to the carriage, for she had +obliged Sylvia and not told one lie. Adrian had certainly given Mrs. +Gordon money he could ill spare. And she knew Ravenel would never +mention the subject to Levallion. It had been a good day’s work. But if +Hester Murray had only known just what she had done at Sylvia’s bidding +she would have cut off her right hand sooner than have meddled. If she +had even known why Lord Levallion was looking at her from the opposite +window, as she got into the carriage, would have given all she owned to +undo her work. + +“It’s time that child was looked after,” he reflected as the open +carriage drove off. He had a dislike to seeing anything ill-treated +that was odd in so hard a man; and Sylvia--“I think it’s time I took a +hand in the game,” he said aloud. “And I do not consider Mrs. Murray a +proper friend for the future Lady Levallion.” + +And it might have been better for all concerned if Hester Murray could +have heard him. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +REVENGE--AND A BALLROOM. + + +The Duchess of Avonmore was giving a ball, and she prided herself on +giving the best balls in London. + +The big house was a fairy-land of flowers and lights, the staircase was +impassable. Ravenel, standing by her hostess in a white satin gown with +a string of the Avonmore pearls round her neck, was beautiful enough +to take away a man’s breath. The duchess, swelling with pride in blue +velvet and diamonds, was enraptured at her looks, for there had been no +want of animation in Ravenel ever since that visit to Hester Murray. +She was feverishly gay and full of laughter. Not even Sir Thomas knew +her spirits came from pride alone. + +No wonder Adrian Gordon had jilted her, and no wonder he had wished to +keep that mad plan of marriage a secret! He had had excellent reason. +It all held together too plausibly for doubt. No one--no one should +ever know what a fool Ravenel Annesley had been, to believe in the +sweet lies, the passionate promises of a lover like Adrian Gordon. She +was glad she had lost his ring; she thanked the fate that had made him +repent at the last moment and leave her. + +No one seeing her to-night would have dreamed she had a care in the +world; yet behind her smile her teeth set suddenly. Two men of Adrian’s +regiment, his best friends, were coming up the stairs. They should not +have to tell him if they wrote that the girl with whom he had amused +himself in the country was either sad or sorry for his sake. + +She looked about her sharply for a weapon, for some man whose outspoken +devotion should let these men see how little she cared. And there--at +her side--was Levallion. + +He bowed to her with his old half-mocking politeness. He was very +handsome for all his years, and his evening clothes seemed to take from +his age. His keen eyes were full of admiration. Ravenel held out her +hand, nearly touching those two men, who knew her by sight from seeing +her with Adrian Gordon. + +“You!” she cried. “At last! Do you know you have never come near me?” + +“I was warned off,” calmly. “I am not supposed to be a good playmate +for little girls.” + +“Now, Levallion, do move on!” cried the duchess over her shoulder. “You +can’t talk here,” for he was calmly blocking the way. + +“I told you so,” he commented, perfectly unmoved; he took Ravenel’s +program, where it dangled from her fan, and wrote his name on it four +times in succession. + +Two hours later the whole room was agog. + +Levallion, who never spoke to a girl and had not danced for years, was +doing both. + +And he danced admirably. Even the duchess, who was furious, allowed +that. But she was so angry with him that she even snubbed her dear +friend, Mrs. Murray, who--looking her innocent best in white--was most +uneasy at the sight of Sylvia’s stepdaughter on such excellent terms +with the only man who ought not to hear of “Mrs. Gordon.” + +“Dear Grace,” she said pathetically, “do tell that poor child that she +will have no reputation left if she makes herself conspicuous with the +most notorious man in London.” + +The duchess gave her a stare. + +“Tom Annesley’s child and my adopted daughter,” she remarked calmly, if +untruthfully, for she had no idea whatever of adopting Ravenel, “has +reputation enough to do anything she pleases.” And she turned a stout +shoulder on her friend, to the joy of the onlookers. + +But, nevertheless, she went post-haste in search of Levallion and his +partner, who had mysteriously vanished. And in her own house looked in +vain. + +Lord Levallion was no novice. He had found the only dark place in the +conservatory, and there he and his companion remained long after their +four waltzes had crashed out and died languorously. + +He was wise from experience. He had stayed away from the house till the +girl wondered why he never came. Even now they had been seated for +minutes behind a flowering orange-tree before he spoke. Then he stopped +fanning her and looked at her. + +“When are you going home?” he said. + +“Home!” Her face was suddenly wild. She had forgotten! She must face +Annesley Chase, her stepmother--perhaps gossip that had leaked out; for +a curate who is asked to marry a couple who never come might be excused +if he spoke about it. + +“Yes, home! Back to Sylvia?” drawled Levallion. + +“Oh, I can’t! I can’t!” she said in a sick whisper. “I had forgotten.” + +“But you go in a fortnight,” coolly. + +The girl laid a trembling hand on his coat-sleeve. + +“Lord Levallion, you know the world! You know--Lady Annesley! Can’t +I--isn’t there anything I could do to earn my living, and Tommy’s?” + +“No!” and for once he spoke bluntly. “There is nothing you could do. +You are too handsome; women would not have you in their houses!” + +She thought of the long, long summer days at the Chase, with thoughts +of Adrian wherever she turned, and was frightened--at herself. Here +she could live it down, there--a sob rose in her throat. But she said +nothing. She sat like a stone, her hand lying as it had fallen from +Levallion’s coat-sleeve. + +Somehow, she had thought this man might help her, friend of Sylvia’s +though he was. + +Levallion glanced at her pale face. There was certainly more than dread +of Sylvia there, but it was no concern of his. And without it the girl +would never have been here. + +“You don’t want to go home, and you can’t work,” he said brutally. +“There is one other thing you can do--marry me!” + +“Marry you!” she gasped. She sat staring straight in front of her, her +hands clenched in the folds of her satin skirt. “No, no, no!” she cried +fiercely. “I can’t marry any one. You don’t know me; you can’t want +me--you----” + +“Are a friend of Sylvia’s!” he finished for her quietly. “Listen! I do +want to marry you, and I want to know nothing”--emphatically--“about +you that I do not know already. Do you understand?” + +A terror shook her. Could he know what a fool she had been, what a +laughing-stock she had made of herself for a married man? She could not +speak. + +“As for being a friend of Lady Annesley’s, I may tell you that the only +reason I do not wish to marry you is that it will please her. But that +will not matter. She will go out of your life as she came into it. You +need never see her when you marry me.” + +“But I don’t love you,” she said, with hard eyes. + +Levallion smiled. + +“I haven’t asked you for love,” he returned indifferently. “I don’t +know that I expect it. I am forty-seven years old, and I have no home +but grand empty houses, no relations but Adrian Gordon”--if she winced +he did not see--“and I want you--and Tommy!” + +“Tommy says you are an old beast,” said Ravenel, with despairing +frankness. + +“So I am!” watching her. “But even I have my good points, though I +would not reform even if you married me; it would bore me. I think, +though, I might leave Adrian a decent legacy to make up for my +astounding daring in getting married.” + +He spoke more to himself than to her, but the sense of his words made +her face grow suddenly dangerous. Adrian--who had said he must go to +India because he was too poor to marry her--was this man’s heir! If she +married him would be so no longer. And every pulse in her body beat +for revenge on Adrian Gordon, who had deceived her and made her name a +laughing-stock in her old home; for there is never anything that is not +known in a village. + +A curious, slow gleam came into her eyes. + +“If I marry you,” she said dully, “can Tommy go into the army?” + +“If he can pass his exams. Certainly!” + +For a long moment they looked at each other in the dim rose light, the +man covertly triumphant, the girl strangely vacant-eyed. + +Levallion was not imaginative, but the curious quietude of her +crouching attitude in her chair made him think suddenly of a panther +he had seen trapped in India. The beast had been dull-eyed, quiescent, +like the girl, till a man came within her reach. Then--Levallion moved +uneasily--he had never willingly thought of how that man looked when +they got him away. Yet the very wildness in her face pleased him. Even +at forty-seven, Lord Levallion preferred excitement to calm in his +love-affairs. + +“Well,” he said gently, “is it Sylvia, or I?” + +For a moment she did not answer, then her voice came harsh and changed. + +“I will marry you, if you like,” she said slowly, for, now that her +revenge was in her hand, it sickened her; “but I’m a bad bargain.” + +“You please me,” calmly. He was too wise to kiss her; he did not even +touch the hands that lay so still on her lap. He rose silently, and +without any will of her own Ravenel Annesley followed him. She never +felt him take her hand and lay it on his arm; never saw where he was +leading her, till she stood in the door of the ballroom, the center of +all eyes, face to face with the righteously angry duchess. + +“You had better stay with me, Ravenel,” she said coldly, without a +glance at Levallion. But it was he who answered her, not the girl who +stood at his side dazed and silent. + +“You are too late, dear lady.” Levallion smiled into her cross face. “I +have stolen her--for good!” + +“What!” The duchess could not get out another word to save her life. +The people about stopped talking and listened. + +“She has promised to marry me,” said Levallion, laughing. + +If there had been a convenient chair her grace would have dropped into +it. Levallion! of all men! And yet, why not? He was richer than any man +she knew, he was probably no worse than a great many of them, and he +had not always shown his evil side to the duchess, who had a sneaking +affection for him under her virtuous disapproval. + +“My dear Levallion,” she cried, “I wish you joy! But--well, you have +surprised me!” + +Levallion smiled. His marriage would surprise a good many +people--disagreeably--but that affected him not at all. + +“Take me away,” said a husky voice in his ear. “Oh, take me away!” + +The lights, the staring people, the publicity of it all, were like +separate daggers in the heart of the girl, who only a month ago had put +on her wedding-gown for a bridegroom who never came. + +The duchess patted her shoulder kindly. No wonder she looked pale and +shy! + +“Give her some champagne, Levallion,” she said. “I see I am not the +only person taken by surprise to-night.” + +Levallion nodded. But even he did not know how hard it was for his +promised wife to lift her head and walk by his side out of the room. +And no one in the crush of wondering people on the stairs guessed that +the pale girl on Levallion’s arm was taking the first step on the +bitter path that leads to the very gates of a shameful death. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +A TIRING DAY. + + +A week after every fashionable newspaper had a flaring announcement +of the approaching marriage of Miss Ravenel Annesley and the Earl +of Levallion, which was to take place at once--that “at once” of +upholsterers and milliners, which means in a month’s time. + +Lady Annesley, with joyful hands, tied up a copy of _The World_ and +forwarded it to Adrian Gordon. But if she had known it, her pains +were wasted. Trouble had broken out on the Indian northwest frontier +and Gordon had moved heaven and earth to get there. The neatly tied +newspaper never reached him any more than a note from Levallion +himself. Sir Thomas was the other person who remembered Adrian Gordon, +but he said nothing about him. As for the bride, the only thing she +had in her mind was that the wedding was to be in London, and she need +never go back to Annesley Chase again; also that she was paying off +that debt of treachery with interest. + +“I suppose you know your own mind,” Sir Thomas remarked to his sister +the night before the wedding. “So I haven’t said anything. It isn’t me +that’s going to be married.” + +“You’re going into the army, and you’re going to have the Chase +redeemed for you,” she returned wistfully. + +“If you’re doing it for that,” he sat up and glared at her, “you can +let it alone! I don’t want that kind of rot.” + +“I’m doing it because I want to,” her voice sharper than his. “Lord +Levallion’s kind; and I’m sick of Sylvia!” + +“So am I,” returned Sir Thomas dryly. “But I wouldn’t sell my soul to +spite her, all the same.” + +“I’m not selling anything,” wearily, for was she not putting behind her +the burden of her humiliation? + +“Tommy, you’ll stick to me, won’t you? You won’t speak little like this +again?” + +“Of course, I’ll stick to you.” He got up and kissed her awkwardly. “So +will Mr. Jacobs!” and he tried to laugh, conscious of angry tears in +his eyes. For it seemed to him that this was no way to get married, to +an old man you hardly knew. + +“Good old Tommy!” said Ravenel unsteadily. She little knew that he and +his dog would be her last chance of salvation in dark days to come; but +something in Tommy’s honest face had gone near to shaking her purpose, +even on the night before her wedding. What she was doing looked +suddenly mean and paltry to her, as she knew it would to Tommy, if he +guessed it. She looked at the clock, that marked eleven. Twelve hours +more, and not even shame or repentance could undo the wreck she had +made of Adrian Gordon’s fortunes. And all that night she sat by her bed +and deliberately let those last hours go by, till, at dawn, she said to +herself, with cold lips, that, after all, Adrian Gordon’s future was no +business of hers. + +Lady Annesley--come up to town on Levallion’s money, and almost off her +head with the excellent allowance that was to be hers for the future, +with escape from Annesley Chase forever--could not believe her eyes +when she actually saw her stepdaughter go up the aisle of St. George’s +on Sir Thomas’ arm. “It was that white gown!” She bowed her head +devoutly as the service began. “It was an inspiration. And the little +fool should go on her knees to thank me. That Gordon man could never +have given her a wedding like this!” + +He could not, indeed. + +Ravenel had never lifted her eyes as she passed up the aisle, whiter +than death under her lace veil. Adrian Gordon would have taken her to +an empty country church, where the scent of the May would have swept +through the open windows; where her soul, as she knelt beside him, +would have mounted the very steps of heaven--and, now---- + +For the first time she lifted her head, remembering, with agony, that +day in May when she had seen, as in a vision, what her wedding would be +with any man but Adrian Gordon. + +It was on her; she was in the very center of it. The cold air of the +church seemed to strike on her face like a breath from the grave, as +in that dreadful prescient moment when the veil seemed lifted from the +future. She stood, helpless, just as she had known she would, when +Adrian forsook her. + +The crowd of smart people, in gorgeous gowns and frock coats, +whispering indifferently; the bishop, whose words were chaining her to +Levallion forever; the organ pealing through the church; the bride with +a heart of stone! + +No one ever knew how near that quiet bride came to screaming aloud +in a nightmare of terror; nor how she had all but turned and run, +frantically, from the very altar. + +But something struck her dumb and powerless where she stood. + +Only Levallion’s level voice, as he spoke out before all the world, +in words that stopped the very blood in her: “I, Adrian, take thee, +Ravenel----” + +The bride heard no other word of the service. She clutched Levallion’s +hand like a vise that she might not fall; a gray mist swam before her +eyes. She muttered after the bishop something that meant nothing, +but was all of a piece with this awful travesty of marriage that was +binding her to an Adrian Gordon she had never loved. + +Saddening, the crash of the wedding-march came on her dazed ears; the +gray mist lifted, cleared. She was walking by Levallion’s side to the +vestry, to sign, for the last time, the name she had grown to hate. + +Ravenel Annesley was dead now, and decently buried under a pile of +wedding-presents and a bridal wreath. It was the Countess of Levallion +who lifted her veil with a hand that was perfectly steady, despite the +burden of its new ring; the Countess of Levallion who bent forward that +the duchess might kiss her on both cheeks. + +If she was a little drawn about the mouth, no one saw it but the +bridegroom; and he in a curious, cynical way, was sorry for her. + +Curiously, too, he had meant every word he had said at the altar. +To his life’s end, Adrian Gordon, Lord Levallion, means to love and +cherish his wife. + +He was proud of her very listlessness as he led her down the aisle; +prouder still of her absolute immobility when something happened that +tried even his nerve. + +In the porch, blocking the very way of the bridal procession--and +to this day Lady Levallion could not tell you the names of her six +bridesmaids!--was a woman. + +Exquisitely slim and small, she stood waiting, a little boy clinging to +her hand. Her dress was black, a lace veil, with a heavy border, hid +her mouth, but not her eyes. As she moved, silently, gracefully, to +give room to the happy couple, Lord Levallion met those eyes full on +his. + +“Hester!” almost he said it aloud. “And in black. Can the little fool +be going to make a scene?” And for an infinitesimal moment he held +his breath. Ravenel, as she passed Mrs. Murray, drew away her skirts. +She had obstinately refused to let her be asked to the wedding, and +wondered that she should care to stand on the church steps with the +curious crowd. But that was all. She never noticed the look the +duchess’ friend gave the bridegroom. For just one instant her eyes had +held his; the next she and her boy had disappeared in the crowd. Lord +Levallion was absolutely sick with relief, as he followed his wife into +the carriage; and yet he was not sure that it was relief, for it felt +uncommonly like apprehension. + +“Hester,” he thought, “to dare to come here with the boy! It’s enough +to make all sorts of scandal.” (That only a secrecy like the grave had +been able to keep down!) “What can she mean?” He wondered, sharply, if +Ravenel had noticed. + +“I’m afraid you’re tired. The crowd at the door was so thick,” he +said, stupidly for Lord Levallion. “I did not notice,” and, to his +huge relief, the words rang true. She had not taken in what to other +women would have been plain as print. With a curious respect, Levallion +kissed his wife’s hand. + +“It has been a tiring day,” he said, almost absently, and put Hester +Murray’s melodramatic appearance and her angry eyes determinedly out of +his mind. Before he brought his wife home to Levallion Castle, three +months later, he had absolutely forgotten both. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +NEWS OF ADRIAN. + + +“Talk of monkeys,” Levallion said to himself on the morning after their +return, “they’re not a quarter as imitative as women!” and he looked +at his wife across the table with a tenderness no other woman could +have got from him. Who would think it had been a raw schoolgirl he had +married three months ago when they saw his wife. + +For, if she looked very little happier than when he had carried her off +from Sylvia, she had gained a manner, an assured self-possession that +made him proud of her. And by this time Lord Levallion was used to that +curious, pathetic look she had about the eyes. + +“You are a lazy wretch!” she said, looking up. “You’ve not opened one +letter or one paper out of all that heap.” + +“You’re very truthful,” he said lazily. “How many women do you suppose +would call me an old wretch to my face?” + +The greatest charm he had found in her was that, let him be as +cynically outspoken as he liked, she never cared; so that her answer +surprised him. + +“I wasn’t truthful; it was a silly joke. I think, if you want to know, +that you’re a thousand times too good for me.” Lord Levallion walked +around the table, his handsome, worn face curiously soft. + +“To tell a man he is too good for you is a fatal mistake,” he remarked +gravely. “It makes him presume on you--like this!” kissing her slim +hand: “I shall make a note that, to keep you contented and superior, I +must beat you once a week. By the way, Ravenel, why do you never wear +any of your rings? If you’re going about without your wedding-ring, you +really ought to paste your marriage lines on your back.” + +“I haven’t found a certificate of respectability necessary in your +society!” hastily. “And--I hate all rings!” with a vicious glance at +her slim, bare hands. “You’re changing the subject, Levallion. I was +saying I was an odious wretch to marry you. I had no right to do it, +just to get away from Sylvia!” It was the first time she had ever +uttered the self-reproach that grew on her each day, with each fresh +proof that Levallion’s love was real. That other thought of revenge on +Adrian Gordon that had been so quick in her once, was dead enough now, +if repentance could kill it. Not for Adrian’s sake, but for the petty +meanness of it. She hated herself for having made Levallion a tool for +her own ends, a convenient escape from Sylvia and a support for Tommy. + +“You might engage a father confessor, if it would ease your mind.” His +lordship returned to his place and lowered his eyes to his plate. For +it seemed to him that his indifferent wife was beginning to care, which +meant heaven opening before his incredulous middle-aged eyes. “I assure +you, I’m quite satisfied with the result of your motives, however low +they were, my dear child. You don’t propose I should read all these, do +you?” with a nod at his pile of letters. + +“Every one. It’s your own fault there are so many. You should have let +your letters be forwarded while you were away. Now you must turn them +over, and begin at the oldest.” + +For, kind as he was, his very goodness fretted her, just as Levallion +Castle, that she had stolen from Adrian Gordon, felt like a prison. +She could never bear the long days here unless Levallion interested +himself in something that was not dependent on her. She pushed away her +plate, and was strolling to the open window, as if she longed for air, +when something in his attitude caught her attention--with an utterly +senseless dread. + +He had opened the first letter on the pile, and was staring at it, his +face quite vacant. + +“You haven’t bad news!” she cried involuntarily. She who never had been +known to ask him anything of his private affairs. She glanced at the +blue paper that crackled in his hand. + +“Yes--poor devil!” he spoke just half his thoughts; the other half was +that, after all, it had done no one any wrong for him to marry, and +might be the saving of the name. “This is from the War Office--my +cousin, Adrian Gordon--I think you knew him?--is----” + +Lady Levallion stretched out her hand and deliberately picked a late +rose that hung in the window. It pricked her finger, but not sharply +enough to steady her as a hat-pin once had done. Her voice shook as she +answered: + +“Is he dead?” She knew she was muttering, but, for once, Levallion +scarcely heard her. + +That Adrian had been in all the fighting on the northwest frontier in +India idle talk had long ago told her; and she had said to herself +that she did not care; had never read a newspaper, lest she might find +herself hunting for his name in despatches. + +“Dead? Yes, poor soul, by this time!” said Levallion absently. “This +says he is missing. He went out of the fort with a small party that was +surprised by the Afrides and nearly destroyed. He carried one man in +and went back for another, and that’s the last they ever saw of either. +It’s the best men who go like that,” grimly. “They would have given him +the Victoria Cross, they say, but for that trifle of his never coming +back.” + +“I”--would she never find her voice? To her horror, the next instant +she knew she was turning on Levallion furiously, insistently. + +“Why do you say he’s dead?” she cried. “That letter doesn’t say so.” + +“Because it means it,” gently; “far more! The women in the hill tribes +come out and butcher wounded or strayed men. Usually there’s not enough +left of them even to prove who they were----” + +“Oh!” said Ravenel; she covered her eyes. “Don’t tell me,” wildly. “I +hate blood. I----” In sheer panic terror of what mad thing she might +cry out, she ran straight to Levallion. “Never tell me awful things,” +she panted. “I wake up in the night and think about them. And he--oh, +Levallion, he was young! It’s wicked, wicked, that people should die +young!” + +“I forgot you had known him!” said Levallion, reproaching himself for +a fool that must needs draw out raw head and bloody bones before her. +“This letter’s three months old,” he said. “I will wire to see if they +know nothing more. Or--if you wouldn’t mind, I would go to town myself +this morning and find out about this at the War Office.” + +She nodded silently, and, to Levallion’s surprise, all the shocked, +strained look was gone from her face. + +“He was your heir,” she said slowly. “Of course, you had better go and +inquire about him.” + +“Yes. Will you come, or stay here?” + +“Oh, stay here!” said Lady Levallion, with a shudder breaking through +that queer calmness born of conviction that Adrian Gordon was dead. +When Levallion was gone, she noted dully that he had only read that +one letter of all that waited for him, and wondered if he would be +so concerned about Adrian if he knew all about him. And then, with a +curious feeling of returning to consciousness, she realized with a rush +that she was glad--glad!--that Adrian was dead. She need no longer +reproach herself that she had stolen his inheritance, and never shrink +with shame at the remembrance of how she had sold herself, body and +soul, to be even with him. + +“He’s dead!” she said to herself, with an inexpressible peace. “Dead +and happy, and some day I shall be like him. Not for a long time, for +I’m young and tough, but every day will bring it a little closer. But +if only he and I were lying in the same grave now, I would not care how +long God put off the Judgment Day.” And there was no grief in her face +as she thought it; only the deadly longing that saps a woman’s soul +more than tears. + +That strange, uncanny peace was still on her as she sat that afternoon +on the lawn under the yellowing trees. She had forgiven Adrian +everything she had against him, as she had no fear that he would not +forgive her sin when she should stand beside him in her very flesh on +the day of doom; for there would be no space wide enough to keep her +from him when the earth gave up its motley crowd of men and women, of +whom none would creep more gladly to the side of the love they had +forgiven than she. + +She looked up, clear-eyed, from the book she was not reading--and +saw Adrian Gordon standing in front of her. Adrian, whose bones were +whitening in the Afghan hills! + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +THE ICY BARRIER. + + +Ravenel Levallion, who had once been Ravenel Annesley, got up with +weak and shaky legs and stared at the brown shadow of a man who stood +between her and the sun. For man it was, and no spirit. When ghosts +arise from the dead they are not ushered to their dearest by an +obsequious butler, while two footmen with the tea things bring up the +rear. Dreadful, inappropriate laughter that meant more than any tears +shook the Countess of Levallion as she stood up in her white serge and +Mechlin lace. + +“Captain Gordon!” the butler repeated a little reproachfully, for this +was not the way to receive his lordship’s cousin. + +“I--I see him!” was all she could find to say; all the greeting she had +for the man to whose side she had meant to creep on the resurrection +day. + +“Ravenel!” he whispered, and if her face were white, his was gray; all +the wild, incredulous joy that had shone there at the first sight of +her dead as ashes. “For God’s sake, how do you come here?” + +But he knew. With a swift and dreadful certainty he remembered the +butler had said Lady Levallion was at home--though he had not known +there was one before--heard in the pause that came as she tried to +answer him the smooth voice of a servant saying, “Tea is served, my +lady.” Desperately the girl caught at her breath that would not come; +and her first word was for the footman, and not for him. + +“Yes,” she said, “you can go,” and then, with a coward’s courage, +turned to Adrian Gordon. + +“I live here. I’m his wife.” For her life she could not look at him +with the triumph a woman should have in her revenge on a man who has +deceived her. “But you--you died! We heard it this morning.” + +We! Captain Gordon--and that man must have been a fool who first +christened the Gordon’s “gay”!--grew as black and sour and stern as +Levallion at his worst. + +“You,” he said, “cannot have read the papers of late, since you only +knew this morning that I was missing. I never--except to you--was in +the very least dead, though, God knows, I wish I had been!” + +“How did you get here?” She was still standing, holding herself up with +tense hands on her wicker chair. + +“Sit down,” said the man, because she was a woman. But she never moved. + +“Tell me,” she said thickly. + +“It can’t interest you.” He felt suddenly listless, utterly +indifferent; looked not at her, but the grass. “I turned up one morning +at the fort. They invalided me home, and I got here yesterday. This +morning,” and he might have been saying a lesson for all the feeling +in his voice, “I reported myself at the War Office and found Levallion +had been there, thinking me dead, so I came down after him. I would not +have come if I had known----” He did not trouble to finish. + +“He’s not here. You must have caught an earlier train,” incoherent from +anger that he should own he had been afraid to meet her. “But he’s +coming.” + +“Naturally,” with ugly quiet. + +He never looked up, and he could not feel her eyes on his face, +half-wild with the joy of seeing him and the horror of knowing--face +to face with him--what he was. Oh! if she could have gone back to the +May that was gone forever, how she would have cried out at the dreadful +change in his face. The hollow cheeks, the sunken eyes, the---- + +“Why is your arm in a sling?” she cried, with scorn of herself that she +could not be glad of his pain. + +“Shot,” with an inward curse that might have made the man who did it +turn in his grave, since it was that shattered arm that had brought him +here. + +“Sit down,” said Lady Levallion, and she said it so tonelessly that in +astonishment he obeyed her. “You are not fit to stand.” + +“Why should you care?” + +“I don’t,” she returned calmly, and for an instant did not think it was +a lie. + +The callousness of his manner had hardened her heart; her forgiveness +that had been so real vanished. She felt old, old and weary, where she +sat in her Worth dress. If she had dared she would have cried out that +to be Nell Annesley again in her Sunday frock, thinking the man she +loved was true, she would give the soul out of her body. She gripped +herself hard, and spoke to him as to any one of those friends of +Levallion’s who were here to-day and gone to-morrow----since she could +not call him “contemptible” to his face. + +“May I give you some tea?” Her voice stung like a whip. Almost he had +had it on his tongue to say, “Why did you do it--who taught you your +woman’s game?” + +But as he glanced at her across Levallion’s old silver and Crown Derby +he had his answer. A secret marriage and a twopenny emerald ring were +well changed for all this. + +“I must be going,” he said. But as he rose a twinge caught him, and he +sat back stiffly. + +“You were foolish to come,” she said, with a coldness that hid a mad, +shameful longing to ease his bodily pain, for any other he could not +have, since he had done everything by his own free will. + +“You had better have wine than tea,” striking a little silver gong! + +Her bread and salt were choking; but before the footman who brought +the wine there was nothing to do but swallow it. Not six months ago +she would have looked at him as he raised the glass to his lips, cried +“My love to you,” as he drank it. To-day--without a glance at him--she +filled her own teacup with a steady hand. + +The silence when the servant was gone was like something tangible; a +barrier that could be felt. Gordon had absolutely nothing to say, and +she was no better. While he gulped down the unwelcome wine, without +which he must have fainted, she was back again in that country lane, +counting her thousand steps; back in the drawing-room of Annesley +Chase, where “Levallion had been kind.” Her heart was like a stone in +her as she watched Gordon covertly. How drawn and hard his face was, +and he was only nine and twenty. He did not look so very far from +death even now, and the thought hurt her, for all her shame that she +could care. + +“Did you get the second man?” she blurted out in the sudden knowledge +that she must say something, anything. + +“No!” with a grim surprise that she should ask. “I may say that he got +me. It was he who took me back to camp.” + +If she could have realized the pitiful return of those two scarecrow +skeletons who had been prisoners with the Afghans, known how they came +home in the darkness, crawling, worn out, despairing, when the blessed +challenge of their own sentry came on their ears, for sheer pity she +must have broken down; have asked him without shame, as one asks the +dead, why he had left her to break her heart; have said things that +might have been the beginning of an end bad enough, but better than +the one her girl’s feet must tread. But the scanty sentences drew no +picture for her. Instead she saw only that there was a line of gold +wire round his third finger that was half the size it had been, and +wondered if it were his wife’s ring. + +“They will give you the V. C. for the first man,” she said hastily, and +wondered how many men would get the V. C. if it were given for truth +and not for valor. + +“I don’t know. It was nothing. Every fellow would have done it. Who +told you, about the V. C., I mean?” + +“Levallion” was on her lips, when she saw the gold wire of his ring +catch the sunlight. The shame of a woman who has loved a man who jilts +her caught her at her heart. + +“My husband,” she said quietly. + +And this time it was Adrian Gordon who quivered where he sat. + +“I must go!” he said, cursing himself for a fool that he should be here +talking to the girl who had seemed to him the very flower of the earth, +and was only a woman who loved rank and money. “I must get back to +town.” + +Back to his lonely rooms, where the tint of her cheek and the curve of +her eyelash, the bow of her young mouth, would rise before him line by +line and make him revile the fate that had let him find her out. + +Back to loneliness, to pain that racked him, to the fever that would +make him drain his water-jug before the morning, but each and all of +them better than seeing, as he did now, how she would not meet his +eyes. But the last person who should know he cared was Levallion’s wife. + +“You will tell Levallion”--after all, he was not as callous, or, +perhaps, as brave, as she; he could not say “your husband”--“that I had +no idea I should not find him here. Perhaps he will look me up in town.” + +“Is that all?” she said stupidly, seeing only how very ill he looked as +he stood before her. + +“All!” surprised. “Yes, I wanted to thank him; it was through him I got +to the front.” + +“I thought.” She was faltering, and she hated herself. + +“Do you know,” she said with sudden, vicious cruelty, “that you have +never congratulated me on my marriage?” and then could have died of +shame, for he was answering her as a man does who is born, not made, a +gentleman. + +“Levallion is one of the best,” quietly. “Certainly I congratulate you.” + +Yet the words were hardly out of his mouth before she was angry again +that he, who had deceived her, should say them. + +“Here is Levallion,” she cried. “You had better congratulate him!” + +He bit his lips that he had not gone before; turned sharply, and struck +his shattered arm against her chair. The grinding torture turned the +daylight black--he was going--going---- + +With a quick cry Lady Levallion leaped forward and caught him as he +fell in a dead faint. + +Long afterward the scene came up before her husband’s eyes, just as +those two had looked against the sunset. And at the memory of her +quick, inarticulate cry he buried his worn, handsome face in his hands. +But now Lord Levallion only lifted the weight that was too heavy for +his wife’s strong young arms and laid his cousin on the grass. + +“The returned hero is not out of the graveyard yet!” he remarked. “Let +him lie, Ravenel, and ring for the servants.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +IN LEVALLION’S HOUSE. + + +“What shall I do?” said Lady Levallion to herself. “What shall I do?” + +She stood on the grass and watched them carry Adrian into her house, +making not the slightest attempt to follow. The sun dropped below the +ledge of the rose-garden, and as its rim disappeared a chill crept to +her bones. In a minute the servants would be back to take in the tea +things, the wicker chair that fate had stuck in Adrian’s way. They must +not find her here standing motionless. And she had nowhere to go that +she might be alone. There was no room in all Levallion Castle where she +could lock her door without question and fight down the bewildered pain +that was making her sick. Her maid would be in her bedroom, Levallion +would come, as usual, to her dressing-room when his toilet was finished +and hers all but done. Truly Ravenel Annesley had been freer than +Ravenel Levallion, for she had dared to lock her door and cry. + +She had not been as brave, though! Lady Levallion set her teeth and +walked slowly into the house and up-stairs to her goggle-eyed maid. The +romantic return of his lordship’s cousin had set every servant in the +house agog, but her ladyship looked so listless that her maid dared not +speak till she was spoken to, which was some time, for Lady Levallion +went straight to her dressing-table and stood staring at herself in the +glass. + +Her face looked strange, vacant. It was not so she had dreamed she +should look when Adrian rose from the dead; not so she would dare look +when Levallion came in. She turned with despairing courage to make a +toilet that should cover her changed looks, and saw a pale-lilac gown +laid out on her bed. + +“Oh, not that!” she said--and naturally, to her eternal credit, for +she could have screamed so like was the thing to that long-gone Sunday +frock--“I’m too tired and pale. Get me something else--pink! There’s a +pink thing somewhere.” + +As she bathed her face in scented water she hid her drawn mouth in the +sponge, for one blessed instant let it work as it would. Oh, lucky, +lucky Nel Annesley, who had only cold water to wash in, and could +let her eyes swell if she liked! But when Lady Levallion laid down +her damask towel and stood to be dressed in a loose dinner-gown of +pale-rose crêpe de chine she was far more lowly than even that far-away +girl had been. If her eyes were somber it was only natural when she had +seen a man drop like death at her feet. At Levallion’s knock her cheeks +blazed suddenly. + +“Well?” she said, as he entered and her maid discreetly vanished. She +wondered if Adrian were going to die, or if--and she almost laughed out +hysterically--he were coming down to dine with her and Levallion. What +a cheerful dinner-party he and she and Levallion! + +“I put him to bed. He’s only just come to.” He sank down into a chair +as if he were tired and lit a cigarette. + +“Poor devil. I feel sorry for him! He wasn’t fit to travel in the first +place, and it must have been a shock to him--coming here!” + +“Why?” She was almost inarticulate. Did he know? Had Adrian told? Oh, +of course, not. No man is likely to tell another that he has behaved +like a villain to that other’s wife. “How do you mean?” and she sat +down opposite Levallion in the full light of a rose-colored lamp. She +was not afraid, no one should ever say she had been afraid. If it would +serve any purpose she would tell Levallion everything now! And with a +sudden tightening at her heart-strings knew she could not betray Adrian +Gordon in Levallion’s house. + +“Well,” observed his lordship dryly, “it would have been a shock to +most men to come home thinking themselves sure heir to eighty thousand +pounds a year and find out--it seems he didn’t know I was married!” +hastily, and leaving his sentence unfinished at the scarlet on his +wife’s face. + +“You very absurd person,” he said, with the impassive manner she knew +meant tenderness, “don’t look so appalled. He may come in for it yet.” + +But it was not a girl’s shyness that had flamed out in her face, but +hot shame for Adrian, who had said he was too poor to make her an +offer openly. She moved restlessly. How long was he to stay under her +roof?--that should have been his. + +“He looked very ill,” she said. + +“Men do with a splintered bone in their arm, and fever,” Levallion +returned, rather dryly. + +“He can’t be moved for some time, I fancy. You will have to do the Good +Samaritan, Ravenel, and cheer him back to life.” + +“I hate sick people!” cried Ravenel hastily, and grew red again at her +lie. “Yes I do, Levallion. Don’t ever dare to get ill.” + +“Well, there’ll be ‘dearth of women’s nursing and lack of women’s +tears’ then!” dryly. “I can’t say I ever saw any great restorative in +the latter, except, perhaps to the woman,” throwing his cigarette into +the grate. He had always known she was hard. Why did it come on him now +like a dash of cold water? + +“God knows I’m hard enough myself!” he thought, as he made his way to +his own dressing-room. “But she did not seem to have any pity for the +poor devil.” + +It was odd sorrow he felt himself for Adrian, who had been so +incoherently anxious to get back to town and not be a nuisance. Lord +Levallion was rather ashamed of his own weakness; it would have pleased +him to have had his wife fuss pityingly over his ousted heir and let +him take refuge in cynical comments. + +“Though he mayn’t be so ousted after all.” He did a little cynical +remark on his own account. “I may be rejoiced with squalling brats.” +But something dark came into his face as if a past folly had suddenly +crept from its grave and faced him. + +“It is better to strike into a new life and go to dinner,” said Lord +Levallion aloud, to the bewilderment of his servant. + +He made an excellent dinner certainly, for he had a new French cook, +who had disdained to stay with royalty on account of being limited in +butlers. Lord Levallion was tired, as well as worried about his guest +up-stairs, and the Frenchman’s cooking appealed to him; which was more +than it did to his wife. + +For at the fish the doctor was ushered into the dining-room. She had +not known Levallion thought Adrian bad enough to need a doctor. She +shook hands mechanically with the good-looking, clear-eyed man whom +Levallion introduced as Doctor Houghton, and mechanically motioned the +butler to set a chair for him. + +“I’m afraid you will have a hospital on your hands, Lady Levallion.” +Doctor Houghton was looking at her with real pleasure in her wonderful +beauty that was anything but girlish to-night. “There is trouble in +that arm.” + +“And likely to be,” interrupted Levallion, “and you are going to send +over a nurse, two nurses if you like, for he’ll stay here till he is +well. Eh, Ravenel?” + +Lady Levallion crushed her hands together under the table. + +“Oh, of course!” she said. And she felt as if fate must be standing +behind her laughing at Adrian Gordon’s unavailing efforts to get rid of +her. + +“Have some of this, Houghton?” said Levallion, as she refused a dish. +“My wife is delightfully honest--and hard-hearted. She does not like +made dishes, or people when they’re ill.” + +“One will lead to the other with you,” Ravenel returned calmly, and +laughed, for she had seen Houghton’s quick glance at her averted face, +and she felt as if he could read there all that Levallion could not of +her horror at this guest, who might be dying under her roof. + +But Doctor Houghton was looking now at his plate, just as if he had not +seen her dilated pupils, her hard, set mouth. + +“It’s very good, but it tastes almost too much of almonds!” he observed +frankly. “What is it?” + +“Only chicken, done with almonds and chestnuts. I’ve a new cook, who +can manage almonds. I shall have something made of them every day.” + +“Which will probably send you to your grave!” laughing. “But I +congratulate you on the artist. By the way, Lord Levallion, if you +could keep me to-night, I should like to stay with Captain Gordon.” + +“We would be infinitely relieved if you would.” (How Sylvia would have +marveled at the kindly voice, the glance without mockery!) + +Both made Ravenel feel an unutterable sneak. + +Why had she never told Levallion all about Adrian? + +It would have been better than this. To sleep, to live, to eat with him +in her house, and to be a stranger to him; hating him in one breath, +loving in the next, false either way to the bread she ate. + +“What was that?” she said feverishly, longing for the time when she +could leave the room. “I heard the bell ring.” + +The dining-room was close to the hall door, its own door open; and a +dull murmur of voices came from outside. Levallion half-rose--and sat +down again. The thing in his thoughts was idiotic, impossible. + +“It’s late for a visitor, but you can do anything in the country!” he +remarked cheerfully. “What was that, Masters?” for the hall door had +shut and no one had come in. + +“A lady, my lord. Come to inquire for Captain Gordon.” + +“A lady!” he looked utterly taken aback--for Lord Levallion. “Who was +it?” + +“I couldn’t say, my lord.” (Every servant in the house but Levallion’s +valet was new, perhaps with reason.) “She was walking.” + +“Well, we live and learn!” said Levallion piously, as the servants for +the moment disappeared. “And I, who thought my young friend had nearly +killed himself to come and see me!” he had had time to go over the list +of his country neighbors, and knew Adrian had come to see none of them, +even as he spoke. She must have come down with him. + +Doctor Houghton glanced quite purposely at his hostess and looked away +with haste, for the Lady Levallion sat white and speechless. It was not +enough for Adrian to come and confront her brazenly, but he must needs +bring a woman down with him--the woman probably of the gold-wire ring. + +“She knows who it was!” Houghton reflected swiftly, and then felt sorry +for her. + +“Most romantic!” Levallion broke the silence with a lazy laugh. “They +say ‘he travels the fastest who travels alone,’ but in my experience, +company adds to the pace. I hope the lady’s anxiety will not keep her +awake.” + +And, clever as he undeniably was, it never occurred to Houghton that +where Lady Levallion was angry by guesswork, Lord Levallion was in a +black rage, born of certain knowledge. + +“Though I can’t understand what she has to do with that young fool +upstairs!” he reflected grimly, as Houghton returned to the invalid. +“Nor why she came. But I may find out!” + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +A DOVE-COLORED GOWN. + + +But if he had any idea of finding out from Adrian, the morning +effectually banished it. The splinters of bone in his arm had put him +in agony, and he lay as he would lie for days, stupid with morphia. + +Lord Levallion looked with a queer pity on the haggard, pain-drawn +face, and went softly away. He must find out for himself why that woman +had come down in his cousin’s company. + +“For, of course, she did!” he mused. “The only thing that brought her +to ask after him was that she got tired of waiting in the village, dear +creature! Adrian was always a quixotic ass about a woman.” And he set +forth on an apparently aimless ride through the village, which for once +he did not ask his wife to share. + +But his idle and cheerful conversation, by the way, were curiously +astounding. His lordship whistled as he turned his horse’s head down an +unfrequented lane, where he might collect his thoughts. + +No one had come down with Captain Gordon, whose arm, in its black +sling, had excited the pity of the whole village; there was not a woman +staying at the inn or at any of the lodging-houses. Lord Levallion was +annoyed that he could not put two and two together and fit the coming +of Adrian Gordon with that woman’s voice in his own hall. + +“If she’s living in this neighborhood, she’ll not do it long!” he +reflected angrily. “But, as far as I know, there’s nowhere for her to +live. Unless”--he stopped his horse, gave a stifled exclamation, as the +lane rounded a sharp turn. + +On his left hand, where a vacant field had run up to the outlying +edge of his own woods, stood a brand-new, gim-crack bungalow in a new +garden; and strolling about it leisurely was a woman in a dove-colored +gown. + +Levallion’s worn, handsome face turned absolutely bloodless, but his +insolent stare never turned from that small, dainty figure in the +garish garden. + +“Gad! This is a charming surprise,” he said softly. “Charming. And if +Adrian had nothing to do with it, how the devil did she know he was +here, when I thought he was dead? Ah!” he smiled--a smile Sylvia would +have known, but not Ravenel. + +For the woman in the garden had turned, had pretended not to see him, +and incontinently vanished into the house. Lord Levallion got on his +horse, and cantered through the gate. + +“I think not,” he observed to himself acidly. And if he were +middle-aged and worn, he was yet a sufficiently terrifying figure to +the eyes that surveyed him through the lower blind of the drawing-room +window as he sauntered up to the house. Without the slight formality of +knocking, he opened the door the dove-colored fugitive had not thought +of locking, and walked in. + +“I am here,” he observed politely. “There is no occasion to stare out +of the window for me.” + +Hester Murray gave a frightened start in spite of herself. She +turned with two bright, pink patches on her thin cheeks, and +tried--unsuccessfully--after his pretty manners. + +“Oh! How do you do? I was not sure it was you.” Her outstretched hand +was not steady. + +“You may reassure yourself as to that. It is I--and I am quite as +usual, thank you.” He put down his riding-crop and his hat with +neatness, and, very quietly, closed the door. + +“Now,” he said--and if ever a devil looked from a man’s eyes it was +from Levallion’s--“may I ask what you are doing here?” + +“Living here.” Levallion could have laughed aloud as he remembered how +many times she had assured him she was never afraid of any one. “But +you knew that or you would not have come to see me.” She sat down, her +one ring--that was a wedding-ring--shining oddly conspicuous on her +nervous hand. + +“How long have you been here?” he leaned against the window with his +back to the apricot-colored blind. + +“Two months,” unwillingly. “But I’m really hardly settled. I did not +want you and Lady Levallion to know of me till I was all arranged. But, +of course, now I shall be delighted to call on her.” She was not sure +whether she was taking the right way or not, but surely Levallion would +prefer this one. + +But he did not answer for a moment. + +“I dare say you would,” to her surprise he broke out into a sarcastic +chuckle. “But you are not at all likely to. Now tell me what you meant +by coming to my house last night and raising the devil about Adrian?” +The sudden change of voice turned her cold. + +“I--I heard in the village,” she stammered. “I was anxious.” + +Anxious indeed! Even Lord Levallion had no notion how she had run +breathless through the fields, hoping the rumor her servant had brought +from the village was true that Adrian Gordon had fallen down dead at +Lady Levallion’s feet. + +“Why were you anxious?” with a slanting lift of his eyebrow. “And how +did you know he had come home?” + +“I always told you it was foolish not to read newspapers,” she +retorted, “even if you are in love!” + +Levallion shrugged his shoulders. + +“For a man who concerned you not at all, I think you wasted +shoe-leather,” he said, and in his eyes was a kind of amusement that +confused her. + +“I--he was good to me once!” with a momentary flash of inspiration. “Is +he--is he dying?” for she must know, since if he were not particularly +ill, she would have her work cut out to hide how she had paid him for +that honest kindness by doing Sylvia Annesley’s dirty work. For, of +course, that girl would tell him. And--there were other things. Oh! why +couldn’t the man die? + +“It would do you no good if he did die, which is not in the least +likely,” remarked Levallion blandly, having seen her last thought on +her face. “It would not soften my heart toward you; though I grant you +it might have, once.” + +The woman sprang up as if he had struck her. + +“You are a devil, a cruel, cold devil!” she said between her small +teeth--and he had never noticed before how sharp and feline they were. +“You’ve no heart, no pity----” + +“Neither had you,” interrupting her with so much more truth than +he knew that she was frightened and sobered. “But I have not come +to discuss either of our personal attributes, but to tell you,” +slowly, “that there are six trains a day by which you may leave this +neighborhood--and stay away;” his voice was perfectly level, but yet +Mrs. Murray drew away from him before she answered. + +“I’ve nowhere to go,” she said sullenly. “I came here because it was +cheap.” + +“I can assure you that you’ll find it remarkably dear,” dryly, “and +where’s the London house?” + +“I couldn’t afford the rent any longer.” + +“I consider you’ve plenty of money,” shortly. + +“It costs more every day.” She did not say what, nor did he ask her. + +“Where’s Murray?” Levallion, he best knew why, was holding himself hard. + +For the first time she looked him in the face and told the truth. + +“I don’t know and I don’t care!” she said viciously. “He said he was +sick of the business--and me--and he never meant to set eyes on me +again.” + +“Poor devil,” said Lord Levallion slowly. + +It was the last straw. Hester Murray quivered from head to foot with +ungovernable rage. + +“You can’t send me away from here!” she cried. “You daren’t make a +scandal now--at this date. There’s no reason why I should not live +here. You can let me call on your wife--and--I’ll go on holding my +tongue.” + +Levallion leaned forward and spoke almost in her ear. + +“I dare do anything,” he said evenly. “Kindly remember that. And also +that my wife,” emphatically, “shall never know Mrs. Murray or call on +her if she lives here forever.” + +“People will talk!” she gasped. + +“If they do,” coolly, “I sha’n’t hear it; but you’ll feel it. I think +you had better go, if you’re wise.” + +“Suppose I tell your wife--what will you do then?” it was her last +shot, and it had a curious effect. + +Levallion laughed. + +“Please yourself; stay here, tell anything!” he returned, still +laughing. “And I’ll tell, too. It would make an amusing story--in your +favorite newspaper.” + +“Levallion!” it was all but a scream; she clutched him as he turned +away. “You can’t, you won’t, you’ve--oh, God! haven’t you any honor?” +for to ruin one’s own reputation is a very different thing to having it +done for you. + +“I have exactly as much as you have,” he answered, moving quietly +from her appealing hand. “You can remember that. And if you like,” +carelessly, “you can stay here. Only be good enough not to come to my +house on any pretext whatever. I won’t have a woman like you under my +wife’s roof. You understand?” sharply. + +She could only nod. His sudden acquiescence in her living so near him +had somewhat dumfounded her, together with his refusal to recognize her +in any way. Levallion, who had always wanted to keep things quiet! Yet +it was simple enough. + +“After all,” he had thought swiftly, “she’s as well under my eye as +anywhere, while we rejoice in a penny-post!” Yet if he had seen the +face of the woman he left in that dim drawing-room, it is to be doubted +if Lord Levallion would not have preferred himself removing her and +her belongings on a barrow, rather than have had her within a hundred +miles. And yet she was only crying to herself pitifully, that she loved +him still. + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +A WOMAN’S RING. + + +It was a wet day. A cold, steady autumn rain that made Levallion Castle +chilly and shivery, and so lonely that its mistress had no desire +to look at the dark corners of the room where she sat at tea-time. +Levallion was out. She had hardly let him from her sight for three +days; she scarcely knew why, except that he was all she had in the +world to cling to. Lady Levallion pushed away her untasted tea and +went out of the big, lonely drawing-room up-stairs. Rain or no rain, +she would get her hat and go out. She could not sit alone for another +minute. + +She was hurrying down-stairs as she had hurried up, passing a closed +door without so much as a glance, when something stopped her as short +as a hand on her shoulder. + +“Oh!” she said aloud. “What was that?” She wheeled in the dim passage +and stared in sick horror at the door which must shut in something more +dreadful than she knew, for never in her life had she heard a cry like +that. + +As she stared, the door opened. A nurse in a white uniform came out. + +“Did you----” she began. “Oh, my lady, I beg your pardon! I thought it +was the doctor.” + +The passage was nearly dark; she could not see how white her ladyship’s +face was, nor how startled her eyes. + +“The doctor!” Ravenel said sharply. “Do you mean you sent for him? Is +Captain Gordon worse?” + +“No, not exactly. But he’s very restless and delirious. I’m afraid he +may injure his arm.” She looked curiously at the slight girl in rough +tweed, who was so young to be mistress of Levallion Castle. + +It was odd that in all these days the countess had never sent to ask +after the invalid. But fine ladies had very little heart, as a rule. + +“There, do you hear that?” she said, rather desirous of harrowing the +feelings of this one. “I must go back. He’s getting another bad turn.” + +Hear that! Every drop of Lady Levallion’s blood stood still. For in +that dreadful voice she did not know Adrian Gordon was calling on a +woman’s name. + +“Nel, Nel!” he cried. “I want my Nel.” + +Fascinated, drawn as if by ropes, Lady Levallion followed the nurse +through the half-closed door she had sworn to herself never to enter; +stood in the middle of the room, wide-eyed, dry-lipped. + +Unshaven, grim, haggard, Adrian was tossing from side to side in his +bed. He turned his eyes to her unseeingly, and said again, in the very +face of the very woman he called on: + +“Nel, I want my Nel. Can’t you stop this pain? I’m making a fool of +myself. For God’s sake, bring Nel!” + +And then he cried out in the screaming groan that turns every woman, +but a nurse, sick with horror. + +Ravenel made a wild step toward him, in another minute would have flung +away all she had by drawing the tossing, restless head to her breast, +by crying that she was here--his Nel, who loved him still. But between +her and him the nurse had slipped quietly, and was touching his burning +forehead with a professional hand. + +“The poor soul wouldn’t know her if she were here!” she muttered. “Yes, +yes; she’s coming.” But if she had glanced over her shoulder she would +not have known Lady Levallion’s face. + +“Can’t you get him some morphine?” Ravenel cried. + +“I only had a certain amount. The doctor ought to be here soon. I sent +for him an hour ago.” + +An hour ago! Lady Levallion clenched her teeth. + +While she had been sitting in comfort, he had been in this pain. It was +true he had behaved vilely to her, but she could not bear any living +thing to suffer like this. + +“Let me try!” she said, and the nurse looked up with surprise at the +pity in her voice. She could feel, then, little interest as she had +seemed to take in the patient. + +At the touch of the shaky hand she laid on his forehead Adrian lay +quiet; but only for an instant. + +“Where is she?” said that dreadful voice. “Nel!” + +She dared not trust herself to speak. If only the nurse would go! + +“I hear some one.” She got the lie out somehow. “Go and see if it’s +the doctor,” and as the woman hurried to the door, she stooped and +whispered in Gordon’s ear: + +“I’m here. It’s Nel. Do you want me?” + +“Nel,” he said, so naturally that she thought he answered her, and was +terrified of what he might say before the white-dressed woman, who was +all eyes and ears. But the next minute she saw it was accident. He did +not know her. + +And yet something had quieted him; whether it was her voice, her touch, +she could not say. He lay still, only wincing now and then. The nurse +came to the bedside. + +“You really seem to have soothed him,” she said incredulously. “Perhaps +you would stay a little.” + +“I can’t--not long!” stammering. For, suppose Levallion came and found +her here, she who had vowed she hated illness. She put the cowardly +thought from her. + +“He wouldn’t think anything,” she said to herself, “for he’s a thousand +times too good and too proud to imagine what a beast I am. For I am a +beast! If Adrian were well I should hate him. Oh, why does he call me! +Me, that he threw away like a squeezed orange.” But even as she thought +it she never stopped her involuntary mechanical smoothing of the +short-cropped hair she had never thought to touch again in life. And +the feel of it sent a thrill through her that made her start back. What +was she doing? Levallion’s wife had no right there. Any other woman on +earth might soothe Adrian’s pain, but not she! + +“Please don’t stop, your ladyship,” said the nurse quickly. “I must +keep him still on account of his arm. There are some splinters of +bone in it that don’t come away as they should. When the doctor comes +we must get that ring cut off--it’s cutting into his swollen hand.” +She pointed to where a tiny bit of gold gleamed at the edge of the +bandages, and Lady Levallion started. + +The other woman’s ring! That mysterious woman who had come to ask after +him. She had forgotten them both! She moved slowly away from the bed, +her face once more as hard as the nurse thought a great lady’s should +be. Let him suffer as he might, die if he liked; it was no business of +hers any more! + +“I don’t think I had anything to do with quieting him,” she said +shortly. “I fancy the pain just happened to grow less.” + +“Very likely,” said Sister Elizabeth dryly. “Delirious patients are +peculiar; probably that girl he seems to want so much is some one he +really hates the thought of.” + +“Really!” said Lady Levallion uninterestedly. But there was fright in +her face as she stared at the nurse’s broad back. Had she spoken by +accident, or had Adrian let out more of a name than that one syllable? +A queer terror ran through her, though there was little enough the man +could tell. Sister Elizabeth could not have dared to refer to it if +he had; and yet Ravenel doubted. The nurse did not look like a stupid +woman. + +“I will go out and send some one to hurry Doctor Houghton,” she said +coldly, moving toward the door. + +“Nel!” the sudden cry made her stop short, for it seemed so certain +that he must know she was here and was leaving him. “Don’t let the band +play any more waltzes. I never danced with you, only with fools--hair +full of scent--you know the kind. Nel, Nel, Nel!” + +Lady Levallion stopped her ears and ran. + +White and shaking, she leaned against the wall of the passage, that +was light enough now, for the servants had lit the lamps. Her hands +still at her ears, her eyes shut, her mouth drawn into that awful bow +that means helpless pity, she stood, her face an open book that any +passer-by might read. + +“Talk of the pains of hell!” she thought. “They don’t wait till you’re +dead. They say every one builds their own fire there, and Adrian’s +seems to be a pretty good blaze. Only why should I burn in it? I never +put one stick to it,” without knowing it, she was muttering, but +unintelligibly enough. + +“Ravenel,” said a quiet voice in her ear, as some one took her hands +away, “my dear child, what is the matter?” + +It was Levallion, in a streaming mackintosh, his handsome face really +old in his surprised concern. She would sooner it had been a mad dog. + +“It’s him, it’s----” she caught her breath, steadied herself, “Captain +Gordon! I’ve been in there, the nurse called me. Oh, I never saw any +one in pain like that, or delirious! I couldn’t stay.” + +Levallion stripped off his wet coat and dropped it. How could any nurse +be such a fool? He would settle with her presently. There were sights +no girl like Ravenel should see. + +“You poor child!” he said softly. “No wonder you look queer. I’ll go in +and see him.” + +She caught his arm. + +“No, no!” she cried frantically. “Don’t go. He’s off his head. He keeps +calling for some woman, and it doesn’t seem fair--oh, don’t listen, +Levallion! Take me away.” + +“Darling,” Levallion was not given to endearments, but the word fell on +deaf ears. He slipped his arm round her, furious that she should have +been made so unhappy. His eyes, that were always bad to meet, blazed as +he thought of that senseless fool of a nurse. + +“Come away and rest. Here’s Doctor Houghton; it will be all right now. +And there’s some one else come I’ve been to meet at the station.” + +Some one else! And Houghton’s step in the passage. Lady Levallion +steadied herself with the courage that had never failed her. She even +met Levallion’s eyes. + +“I’m silly, but it upset me,” she said quite naturally. And above her +voice came Adrian’s loud one through the closed door, as he called her +name. “Who else has come?” + +“Me,” said a voice, suspiciously and determinedly troubled. “Didn’t you +know?” + +“Tommy!” she said stupidly, as the boy kissed her. A week ago she would +have been wild with joy, to-day--Tommy knew! It would be awful to have +any one who knew in the house. + +“Exactly. And I want my tea. Do you habitually,” he made the slightest +possible pause, and went on, cheerfully, “reside in this passage?” + +Ravenel shivered, for Tommy’s eyes were hard and stern on hers for all +his careless voice. He had made sense enough of that reiterated cry +that was Greek to Levallion. + +“No, come on!” she answered hastily. “I was just speaking to the nurse. +You come, too, Levallion. Doctor Houghton doesn’t want you.” And she +held his hand tight behind the shelter of Tommy’s back as she smiled at +the doctor. + +“Want him? No,” Houghton returned hurriedly. “I’ll see him by and by.” + +But before his quick hand was on Adrian’s door Ravenel had dragged +Levallion away. + +“I don’t want you to feel--left out--with me and Tommy!” she whispered, +and loathed herself. “It was so good of you to bring him.” + +The man’s hard eyes grew kind. Tommy whistled as he followed them to +the drawing-room and fresh tea; but Levallion did not know Tommy well. +He never whistled unless he was angry. All through her tea-making +Ravenel knew that Tommy was storing up wrath against her that would +break out the second Levallion left them, which he did on a summons +from Doctor Houghton. + +Ravenel prepared for battle, and then felt wretched. Never in all her +life had she really fought with Tommy. + +“Look here,” said he, and, to her surprise, quite coolly; “I suppose +you can’t help having Gordon in the house, but if I were you I wouldn’t +be found outside his own door looking like a sick cat.” + +“I couldn’t help it,” angrily. “I was passing and the nurse came out. +You needn’t put on silly airs about it; nobody hates him worse than I +do. And he hates me. He wasn’t even civil that day he came.” + +“If I hated him, or anything else,” dryly, “I’d keep my face +straighter--before Levallion!” + +“If you think of me like that you can hold your tongue over it,” her +voice very low and furious. + +“I don’t pine to talk about it,” unpleasantly. “But other people than +me have ears, and I heard fully well what Gordon was calling out,” with +ungrammatical force. + +“Don’t you ever dare to call me that!” she sprang up and caught his +arm. “Listen to me. I tell you the girl Adrian called is dead--dead! Do +you hear me?” + +“‘R. I. P.,’ then!” said Tommy, with a curious catch in his voice. +“Mind you, Ravenel, I’d sooner that was true than that you----” + +Lady Levallion forgot she was a countess. + +“Shut up!” she said. “There’s somebody coming, and you’re making a fuss +about nothing. I haven’t any dark secrets, except that I was engaged to +a man who--threw me over,” quickly. “If you want to know, I hate him. +There!” + +“Then you’d better do it with less fuss,” returned Sir Thomas in a +casual tone of brotherly conversation, as the door opened on Levallion +and Houghton. + +“Do what?” the former asked idly, looking with a curious pride at the +two handsome, flushed young faces. + +“Argue,” coolly. “Ravenel never will own she’s wrong.” + +“A woman is never wrong, my good sir!” said Levallion piously. +“Ravenel, you’ll be glad to hear Gordon’s asleep.” + +“Oh,” said Houghton, “that reminds me! I forgot to give you this, Lord +Levallion. I fancy it is valuable, and it might be lost. I had to cut +it off Captain Gordon’s hand. I beg your pardon, Lady Levallion; I +interrupted you!” + +“I didn’t speak,” she said quietly, and she best knew where she got +her composure. For Houghton was holding out to Levallion her own +emerald-and-opal ring. + +Bent, filed through, dulled by a fevered hand, she still could not +mistake it. It was her very ring and no other, but how--a voice that +sounded like a real voice was sudden, insistent, in her ears. + +“You mustn’t, you daren’t think, here.” + +Dazed, she looked to see if Tommy had spoken; but Tommy was gaping +silently at that long-lost ring. No one had opened their mouths. It was +her own mind that had warned her. + +In the sudden, causeless silence that had fallen on the room Levallion +slipped the broken ring into his pocket. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +THE SIN OF SYLVIA ANNESLEY. + + +“My ring--it was my ring he wore all the time, with the stone turned +inside his hand!” + +Alone in her dressing-room, Ravenel’s head whirled. + +“But how did he get it, and why did he wear it after the way he treated +me? I can’t make the two things match.” + +All dressed for dinner, she stood looking at herself in the glass as +being a ladylike and thoughtful occupation to be discovered in by +Tommy or Levallion; and the silver-strewn luxury of her toilet-table +suddenly reminded her of another table, in the one sumptuous room of a +poverty-stricken house. + +“Sylvia!” she gasped. “It must have been Sylvia.” + +A light flashed into her eyes that had not been there for many a day. +Adrian was in the house, must get better, and the very first day he was +fit she would have the whole story--his story--out of him. And then---- + +Lady Levallion, with a sudden numbness, a curdling of her young blood, +dropped heavily into a chair. Not even God’s own truth could matter to +her now. The work, whether her ladyship’s or Adrian’s, was done--and +done thoroughly. And Levallion--she straightened herself as at a sudden +wound--Levallion had been a friend of Sylvia’s! But the thought passed +as it had come, and left her ashamed. Levallion could have had nothing +to do with Adrian’s passing himself off for an unmarried man. + +“Adrian lied to me and threw me overboard,” she said to herself, “and +Levallion picked me up out of the sea. That’s all I dare remember now +out of the whole jumble. But I’ll find out about the ring, anyhow. Even +Levallion,” clinging obstinately to that senseless trust in him that +had grown up in her, “would not mind my knowing the truth--if Adrian +can tell it.” And, with that queer numbness in her that she did not +know was despair, she went down-stairs to face the new world she had +made for herself, which the sight of a battered ring had shattered in +her very hands. + +But to get at the root of the matter was not so easy. There was +Levallion, who had nearly annihilated Sister Elizabeth and forbidden +her on pain of instant dismissal ever to allow Lady Levallion to behold +horrors. And there was Tommy. Tommy, dogged, cheerful, and ubiquitous; +his sister’s aching impatience almost turned to hatred of Tommy, who +drove and rode and talked with her--on indifferent subjects--till he +nearly sent her frantic. And Adrian was mending every hour; any day +might take it into his head to get up and go away with a bare good-by. + +Pale and big-eyed, Ravenel stood by the library window and stared out, +so that her back was turned to the policing gaze of Sir Thomas. It +was a fine day, but she never noticed. She twisted her ringless hands +hard together that she might not turn round on Tommy and tell him, for +Heaven’s sake, to let her be for one-half hour. + +Levallion, coming in, spoke to her twice before she heard him. + +“Yes!” she turned guiltily, for of all the things that hurt her the +most was the look on Levallion’s face, where happiness and content +seemed to have ironed out the sardonic lines. There was no guilty +conscience at work in Levallion--and once she had thought Gordon a +better man than he! + +“Yes! I was looking at some one. Who’s that?” She had that very minute +caught sight of a figure in the garden. + +“Gad!” Levallion’s hawk eyes looked over her shoulders. “The fellow’s +cool. That, madam, is your cook, and, if I am not mistaken, he is +picking your flowers and smoking a cigarette on your lawn. Delightfully +at home is Carrousel! But,” his quizzical gaze darkened suddenly. The +chef, arrayed in tweeds remarkably like Levallion’s own, and bearing a +large bunch of the best of the late autumn flowers, had let himself out +of the garden by a gate sacred to the use of master and mistress and +departed, leaving behind him, under their very noses, a half-smoked +cigarette and a copy of an old, pink newspaper. + +The window was open, and to his lordship’s nostrils came the dying +aroma of his own tobacco, the while the pink and atrocious newspaper +fluttered softly in the breeze. + +“That gentleman requires occupation.” In withdrawing his head Levallion +bumped it, which did not allay his irritation. “I don’t require my cook +as an ornament in my private garden, nor his garbage papers on my lawn, +and so I shall inform him. I wonder where the devil he’s going! I’m +certain he’s got on my clothes.” + +Sir Thomas forgot he was Sherlock Holmes. + +“Gorgeous, ain’t he?” he observed rapturously. + +“He can be as gorgeous as he likes--in the kitchen,” Levallion drawled +acidly. “Which reminds me, Ravenel; Houghton says there is no need to +put off having people here any longer; Adrian won’t mind a noisy house; +he’ll be quite recovered in a day or two. So I suppose we’d better ask +some people for the pheasants--a house-party will be an excellent tonic +for Monsieur Carrousel, and cheer up Adrian.” + +A house full of people! Ravenel’s heart contracted. Farewell to all +chance of speaking to Adrian then! + +“Cowardy, cowardy custard!” remarked Sir Thomas, with more tact than +elegance. “Ravenel is afraid of being a hostess, ain’t you, my dear?” + +“I am. I’m terrified,” snatching at anything that was true. “I don’t +want them much, Levallion!” + +“I don’t want ’em at all,” returned his lordship dryly. “But, being +over head and ears in debt for invitations to every soul I know, I +don’t see how we can avoid asking them. And Tommy and I can shoot all +the pheasants ourselves.” + +“Tommy has to go back to his crammer’s!” ungratefully. + +“Fortunately, he hasn’t,” with a glance of real liking, which the boy +returned. “I forgot to tell you. Two of the men there have scarlet +fever; and the house is quarantined. Therefore, Sir Thomas and the +inestimable Mr. Jacobs--who had killed two rats and broken three +priceless vases in the business!--will have to stay with us. Sad, isn’t +it?” + +“You bet!” said Tommy cheerfully. “I’ll help you through, Ravenel. I +like women; it’s funny most women don’t!” thoughtfully. + +“Have I got to write the invitations?” her voice was curiously sullen, +unguarded; for surely it was the very irony of fate that should make +her summon a lot of people, under whose eyes she and Adrian would have +to meet day in and day out, with everything unexplained between them. + +Levallion chuckled, but his eyes were very sweet. + +“You are not a beast of burden,” he observed, in that slow, soft way of +his. “I’ll summon the heathen for next week, in your name. And I trust +their requirements will occupy our cook--at least, what’s left of him +after I see him,” looking with unabated annoyance at the scurrilous +sheet the breeze had fluttered to the very window. + +Sir Thomas, seeing Levallion in possession, had retired on business of +his own; and Levallion laid his fine hand, that, if it were not young, +was still beautiful, on his wife’s bronze head. + +“You’re not really afraid of your party, are you?” he said with a +tenderness that sat oddly on him. “For you know it is I who should be +that! If I were wise I’d shut you up alone with me, and save trouble. +You’re too good-looking, little mouse, for women not to hate you, and +men”--he shrugged his shoulders--“and you’ve only my battered old bones +between you and a somewhat overrated civilization.” There was something +wistful in his voice, despite its cynicism, and it hurt her. + +“Don’t speak like that!” she cried sharply, passionately. “It wasn’t +that I meant. Only that I’m eighteen and an ignorant fool. How do I +know how to entertain people? Suppose I disgrace you!” + +He laughed, still stroking her hair; and the laugh had the ring of +Adrian’s, and hurt her. + +“I will frown at you when I see you eating with your knife. Dearest, +I wish you would do a little now in the hostessing way, if you don’t +mind! Go and see Adrian; he’s up, and it doesn’t seem kind not to +take any notice of him. Would you go? I know you hate illness, but +he really does not look very dreadful. And would you give him this?” +drawing something from his pocket. “I dare say he would rather you knew +of his love-tokens than I,” smiling. + +Ravenel’s heart banged against her ribs. He was holding out to her that +ring that was her own. + +“If--if you want me to,” she said. Almost she could have let +Adrian go with that ring unexplained rather than have had +Levallion--Levallion!--put her opportunity in her hand. + +“He will think it odd if you never go near him, I fancy. But just as +you like!” and his hand with the ring in it moved toward his pocket. + +“I’ll go,” she said quickly, involuntarily; for after all she was not +brave enough to let the knowledge she longed for go by forever. She +dared not look at Levallion’s face, lest she should forget herself and +pour out the whole reason of her reluctance to be sent--by him--to +Adrian. An appropriate and delightful confidence it would be, too, for +her husband’s ears. But if she did tell he would not hear her; he had +no opinion of confessions. Had he not said once that “he wanted to know +nothing about her that he did not know already--nothing!” + +She held out her hand for the emerald ring. + + * * * * * + +At the quick faint knock on the door a man looked up from a paper he +was pretending to read. + +“Come in,” he said impatiently, wishing Sister Elizabeth and her messes +elsewhere. + +But it was not Sister Elizabeth. + +Gordon jumped up and sat down again, furious at finding how weak he +was, and how his heart jumped at the sight of her face. + +For Ravenel stood in the doorway; and yet not Ravenel, but Lady +Levallion. His eyes went over her, losing not a point of the dainty, +artificial look she had in her fine clothes. + +Her bronze hair she had been used to twist carelessly was dressed +exquisitely, in the rippling smooth yet fluffed outlines that were the +fashion; her gown, that had been cotton, was finest white serge now, +and the frou-frou of its silk lining reached him as she closed the door +behind her; her little feet--but he could not look at those little +feet. Truly, she had done well to leave him for Levallion; he could +never have given her shoes with silver buckles like those! + +“This is extremely kind of you,” he said awkwardly. “Will you excuse my +not getting up?” and even as he forced out the words he was thankful he +had let Levallion’s man shave him clean of his scrubby, week-old beard, +and bring him decent clothes instead of a dressing-gown. But Lady +Levallion’s eyes were on his haggard, weary face and not on his toilet. + +“Are you better?” she asked, standing yards away from him, and he +remembered how she had come closer indeed last May. “Is the nurse here?” + +“No!” wonderingly. “At her tea. Won’t you--sit down?” + +She shook her head, and he saw with a queer listlessness that she was +shaking from head to foot. + +“I didn’t want to come,” she cried, as if his indifference had thrown +her back on herself. “Levallion sent me. I was to ask how you were, +and--give you this!” Flushing, trembling, she held out his ring. + +Gordon held his tongue. No wonder she had not wanted to come. And then +his temper nearly betrayed him. + +“He could not have found a messenger more charming,” he said, with icy +politeness. + +Ravenel caught her breath. + +“Oh, I know you hate me!” she cried. “I know how you changed your mind +at the last minute--though that was the only decent thing you ever +did--and never came for me; left me like an old shoe for any one to +pick up after you had made my name a by-word. But I mean you to tell me +one thing in spite of my--self-respect.” Her voice shook like her body. +“Where did you get my ring?” + +He gazed at her in blind stupefaction. + +“You sent it back to me,” he said bluntly, “in your anger. I can’t see +why you ask.” + +“I!” said Lady Levallion. “I sent it back to you!” The ring fell from +her hand and rolled where it would on the floor. Her gray eyes seemed +suddenly to come alive, to blaze in her pale face. + +“Where’s the letter?” she cried scornfully. “Show me the letter.” + +“I can’t; it’s in town with my things. God knows why I was fool enough +to keep it, but I was. And more fool still, for I know it by heart. But +you can’t need to hear it.” + +“Say it!” She stamped her foot. + + “Thank you very much for your present.” In spite of his puzzled anger, + he obliged her, in a voice utterly flat and lifeless. “But I don’t + want to keep your ring. I send it back in this. You had better wear it + yourself. + + “RAVENEL.” + +“And, as you see, I did, being, as I said, a fool.” + +“Lady Annesley! It was Lady Annesley’s ring,” she said, standing as +if her wits had gone from her, wild, shamelessly truthful. “Listen! I +never wrote to you; I didn’t know your address, since you never gave it +to me. And if I had written I couldn’t have sent you back your ring, +for I lost it the day before the duchess’ garden-party. Yes, two days,” +marking them off on her fingers, “before that afternoon I waited for +you and didn’t know you’d thrown me over to sink or swim!” + +“You waited--you!” Sister Elizabeth would have screamed with wonder to +see the invalid get up like another man, cross the floor between him +and his hostess in three strides, and catch her by the shoulder with +his sound hand. “For God’s sake, Nel, speak out, since you’ve begun!” + +The old name, the old voice with the passion in it broke down her +courage, made her forget for one short while that more than lost +rings lay between him and her. With a lump in her throat that made +her hoarse, she told him all the sorry little story in quick, husky +whispers, lest some one might overhear. + +“So when you said in your note that you’d be at the duchess’ I went. +Lady Annesley gave me a gown. You were not there, and I came home. You +said you would come the next day and you never did. And Levallion +told me you had sailed--without a word to me. And I’d lost that ring,” +passionately. + +“Levallion! How did he come across you?” with a ghastly wonder if +Levallion were quite clean of the business, and heedless that he had +never said why he was not at the duchess’. But Ravenel noted. + +“He was at the party and was kind to me.” With a sudden aside she +remembered, and faced him stonily. “But there’s no earthly sense in all +this! Of course, when I heard you had a wife already I knew you had +excellent reason to leave me. It was the first honorable thing you ever +did.” + +“A wife--me!” His hand on her shoulder relaxed suddenly. “Who told you +a lie like that? And how in the name of God did you dare to believe it?” + +“Mrs. Murray--Hester Murray--told me. As for believing it, it seemed +all of a piece.” + +“Hester Murray told you--Hester!” His face had been pale enough, but +it was blanched now. He remembered suddenly that he was in Levallion’s +house, talking to Levallion’s wife--that at any cost no one must come +in and find her like this. + +“Sit down,” he said. “And I can’t stoop; would you mind picking up that +ring?” for it looked like a glove cast down for battle. “Now, tell me +about Mrs. Murray. What did she say?” + +“That you found Mrs. Gordon very expensive and a drain on you, and that +it had been a boyish folly of yours,” she said from her chair at a +decent distance from his. “Who did she mean, if not your wife?” + +Adrian Gordon was dumb. In Levallion’s house Levallion’s wife asked him +this! + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +THE SEALED LETTER. + + +“She was not my wife,” Gordon said at last, for there was no reason he +should not clear himself, if he dared not answer her plain question. +“I never had a wife and never will have. The woman Hester Murray meant +was nothing to me, though it was true she was in trouble and I helped +her, till I found out she was a worthless liar. If Mrs. Murray dared,” +he hesitated, “to tell you that, some one must have made it very much +worth her while.” + +“Adrian,” said Ravenel, her eyes straight on his, “you mean that? +Because we’re just as if we were dead, you and I. We’ve got to tell the +truth.” + +“You know it’s true,” he answered heavily. “That woman lied to you. +Only I can’t see how it was her business,” with the vile conviction +on him that only at Levallion’s own bidding would Hester Murray have +helped him to take a wife, and with pressure even then. He roused +himself sharply. + +“Never mind that, it doesn’t matter.” Since it was too dangerous to +touch on! “You say I didn’t go to the duchess’. Well, I wrote to you +that I couldn’t go; that it was my only day to marry you.” She could +hardly hear him, saw him as in a mist through scalding tears of relief +that was yet worse anguish. “I waited all day. I came back that night +and threw gravel at your window, tried every door in the house, and +couldn’t wake you or Tommy. Jacobs came out to bark, and found it was a +friend--but no one else. And at dawn I had to go. Surely you must have +heard, or Tommy must! I made all the noise I dared.” + +“I never heard,” she answered, with a tearless sob, “and Tommy could +not have heard any one in the garden, for he slept on the other side +of the house.” She would not tell him how she had cried herself to +sleep on the floor that night, and never waked till dawn. She went +on sharply: “If I had heard Jacobs bark I should never have thought +of you, because your letter said the next day was--was when you were +coming for me.” Not the pains of hell could have made her say “our +wedding-day.” “I was only wretched because I’d lost your ring and had +such a dreadful disappointment at the party. I never dreamed you had +come for me while I was out.” + +“But, of course, I came! I wrote I should.” He stared at her with a +puzzled frown. “And you said you got my letter?” + +“Oh, I got it,” slowly. “But you must have made a mistake in it. It +said you would come for me on the 14th, and be at the duchess’ on +the 13th. Look!” with an uncontrollable impulse she did what she had +meant not to do, and threw on the table that lying letter she had kept +because she was not brave enough to burn it. “Read for yourself.” + +Tear-stained, rubbed out with long poring over, it lay in his hand, but +he was looking at the envelope instead of the enclosure. + +“You see it was sealed!” she cried. “No one could have opened it.” + +“That is just it,” said Gordon quietly. “I never sealed a letter in my +life. I never owned a seal with ‘A’ on it. That was some one else’s +work, Nel, not mine.” He shook the letter out painfully with one hand +and let the light slant across it. “Look,” he said, “the dates have +been rubbed out and altered. Just five minutes’ work and a bit of +sealing-wax, but they’ve ruined you and me. See, I wrote, ‘I can’t go +to the duchess’!’ And one flick of a rubber made it, ‘I can go!’ But +who could have done it? Who could care?” + +“Lady Annesley.” There were no tears in her eyes, just as there lurked +no doubt in her heart. “The letters all went to her first. I thought +it had escaped her notice, because of the London postmark, and the +seal--like a fool!--for in an Annesley house there must have been +plenty of seals with ‘A’ on them. And Tommy warned me that very morning +that he thought she had her eyes on you and me. I might have known +it--when her ladyship was kind!” bitterly. “She couldn’t have dared do +it. She had no reason.” + +Lady Levallion laughed, and it was ugly laughter. + +“She’s allowed a thousand a year now, and a house,” she said, in a +voice like her laugh. “She has been able to shake the dust of dulness +and Annesley Chase and mortgages off her feet. Oh! she had reason +enough. Tommy said she meant Levallion to marry me, but the funny part +of it is that in the end she had nothing to do with it.” + +“What do you mean?” with a dull horror at the look on her face. “And +what did you mean just now about Lady Annesley’s ring, when I said you +sent mine back?” + +“I meant just that,” she answered bitterly. “I thought I lost your +ring, but I never did, since it’s here in my hand. Who could have +sent it to you but Sylvia? And I know now how she got it. She cut +the ribbon off my neck when she tried on that wicked dress she gave +me. She pretended to arrange the train just to pick the ring off the +floor. I thought even then I must have dropped it in her room, but I +was afraid to ask. And then when I was going to stay with the duchess +she gave me a ring of hers--and it was the note I sent that ring back +to her in that you know by heart. She simply enclosed my ring in it +to you. Oh”--she was getting out each jerky sentence breathlessly--“I +see it all now! Just like A, B, C, one thing after another. Except,” +listlessly, “how she found out about it in the first place; but she +was always suspicious. It all began with my trying on that dreadful +dress--that I only took for you to see.” + +“And Levallion saw you instead,” quietly. + +“You’re wrong!” she cried. “It was all Sylvia. Levallion had nothing to +do with it. It was I! I, who, after you went, got wicked. Married him +with my eyes open, to hurt you.” She covered her face. + +But all he said was almost to himself. + +“Nel, my Nel all the time!” + +“Not now,” fiercely, “nor ever! Adrian, can’t you see it? We’re done +for, just as though we were dead.” + +“I’ll see Lady Annesley first,” grimly. + +“You can’t!” she whispered. “Not now. She lied to me, but I--I married +Levallion of my own accord. And he was good to me. I can see now that +if I’d had the sense to tell him he might have--but what had I to +tell?” breaking off with a sick sob. “Only that you had thrown me +over. I couldn’t expect him to write and ask you to take me back again. +And I thought you were married and had lied to me.” + +“You couldn’t do anything,” feeling sick as he saw himself as he had +been all this time in her eyes. “I wouldn’t wonder at anything you did. +Tell me, is Tommy also thinking me a scoundrel?” + +A penciled letter seemed such a little thing to be able to drag a man’s +honor in the dust, and take away from him all that life held. There +were both dismay and anger in his eyes as he waited for her to answer. + +“Tommy only knows I was engaged to you, that I lost my ring and +you left me without writing. You needn’t think I told any one the +rest,” simply. “Adrian, what are we going to do? Levallion--he’s been +good.” She faltered, stopped. Yet he knew her white lips were not for +Levallion. + +“We can’t do anything. I must go away,” and he touched the lace at her +wrist as if the very hem of her garments were sacred to him; his eyes +swept with the old look from her bronze hair to her little shoes. But +from the sight of her wet eyes, her trembling lips, he turned away, +cursing himself that in blind madness he had believed even her own +handwriting against her; wincing at the remembrance that “Levallion had +been kind.” Levallion, whose kind acts, to his knowledge, had been two, +and one of them might very well bear another significance. He could not +forget that it was Levallion who had sent him to India. + +“Go? You can’t go! You’re not fit!” She was frantic as she looked at +his changed and ravaged face. How worn he was--how like, with quick +horror--to Levallion! “Where can you go?” + +“Town,” laconically. “Rooms, till I’m better.” + +Like a flash she saw him sitting alone in those rooms, with a broken +ring, a lying letter, in pain, old in his youth. + +“You can’t go. It would kill me!” she said quietly. But she drew away +from him so that her lace was out of his reach. If he touched the flesh +of her wrist she knew that not Tommy, nor honor, nor Levallion, could +keep her from following him to the end of the world. + +“I must. I can’t stay here!” + +“I could nurse you, take care of you!” wildly, her face bloodless over +her lace tie, her collar of Levallion’s pearls. + +“Any one on God’s earth but you!” said Gordon, with a quick shudder. +He leaned back in his chair as if he were faint. He had known the +light of his life was gone out, but he had not known alien fingers had +extinguished it against Ravenel Annesley’s will. + +The hard words, the exhaustion in his face, steadied her, as pain +always did. + +“You’re worn out. I had no right to tell you,” she said miserably. +“I’ve only hurt you.” + +“You’ve shown me heaven,” he answered, and bravely, for all his pain of +body and mind. “Just that, after being through hell and out again. Go +now, Nel. They’ll wonder--you’ve been so long! Give me the ring. I can +keep that, can’t I? It’s all I have, you know.” + +“But I’ll see you again?” + +“Not alone,” gravely. “It isn’t likely. So this is good-by.” + +Good-by! After to-day, then, she would see his face no more. Would +never hear his voice, that could move her as no voice on earth would +ever do; would be alone till she died, the ungrateful, unloving girl +Levallion had been good to. And he would be alone, too, but out in the +world where he could forget her, as men forget and women never. + +Ashy pale, she put that unlucky ring in his hand; silent, +broken-hearted, turned away from him; and had never loved him so much +as now, when he bade her go. + +“Nel!” he said, and she turned at the door. But not to go back to +him, not to touch his hand nor to kiss him but once before she went, +for she read his face aright and knew he would have died a thousand +deaths first. Only to stand and look at him as he at her, the truth +for the first and last time spoken between them. After this it would +be Levallion’s wife who met him, never Nel Annesley who had loved him +neither wisely nor well, but madly and in the bitterness of her soul. + +“Good-by, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Be good. Don’t forget me,” and +shut his eyes that he might not see her go. + +And neither of them heard the quiet breathing of Sister Elizabeth, +where she stood goggle-eyed in Adrian’s bedroom. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +A GROWING CLOUD OF WITNESSES. + + +“My dear child, how are you?” cried the duchess and kissed Ravenel on +both cheeks. + +She was the last arrival of the house-party, and she sank into a low +chair by the fire and surveyed the scene, covertly and without her +long-handled glasses. + +The big hall of Levallion Castle was lit by two fires and a +sufficiency--no more--of shaded lamps. There were plenty of cozy +corners and secluded chairs behind the great square pillars supporting +the low roof, where dull gold gleamed fitfully in the fire flicker. +Among the orderly disorder of chairs and tables and palms, people +were sitting in twos and threes--occasionally drinking tea, laughing, +warming themselves, and wondering what sort of a married man Levallion +made. His past record happily did not point to a dull sojourn under his +roof. + +But the duchess, like Gallio, cared for none of these things. + +Her red, comfortably handsome face was turned to the sumptuous figure +at the tea-table, all white velvet and Russian sable and floating, wavy +chiffon. + +“I am Annesley’s little girl, turned into an accordion-plaited angel!” +thought her grace, blind to everything but surprise. For Ravenel under +her wing had been only a remarkably pretty girl, rather quick, almost +shy. And here stood a beautiful woman, utterly self-possessed, and a +work of art from her carefully dressed hair to the way her great gray +eyes looked up from her tea-making. + +“A maid, that’s the reason of those beautifully done waves!” thought +the duchess. “But how much prettier she is than I imagined. A +woman with those eyebrows and that upper lip might do anything. +But what color there is in her face, with those gray-blue eyes and +black eyebrows and that surprising bronze hair! She looks--eh, +what--Levallion? Oh, tea!” + +“It’s usual at this hour--or would you rather----” + +“Don’t worry me, my good man!” smartly. “She looks well, Levallion; +happier, I think!” + +“She is very well.” He glanced at his wife across the buzzing room. The +duchess was right, she did look happier. The queer, stony look that +had been in her eyes was gone. It seemed to him that the change in her +dated from one evening when he had found her sitting alone in her room, +with a burning color in her cheeks and quick unwonted questions on her +tongue. He remembered them now. “Levallion, you really love me? You +didn’t marry me because Sylvia arranged it--nor just to have a wife? +You would have married me all the same even if I’d told you why----” +but she had never finished. + +“I married you for love, and nothing else,” he had answered quietly, +and she had watched him as he said it, then turned from him and spoke +laboredly, over her shoulder. + +“I’ll do my best to be a good wife to you.” + +But even now he never imagined how at that moment she come of her +own accord to believe in what was true, that he had known nothing of +Sylvia’s maneuvering. And her duty lay plain before her. To take up +the life she had deliberately made for herself and be a loyal wife to +the man who had always “been good” to her. Very barren, very dreary, +in spite of Levallion’s kindness that life lay before her, but she +would tread it faithfully to the very end. And unconsciously a great +joy leaped to her eyes and ever since had burned there steadily. Adrian +might be lost to her a thousand times more than ever, but in her soul +she could worship him, for he had been true. + +But Levallion, poor fool, had thanked God for that rapture in her eyes; +a man, too, who was not in the habit of thanking God for anything. + +“There’s peace in her face,” said the duchess shortly, having followed +his eyes in that long pause. “Well, well! You’re a better man than I +thought, Levallion. Send Tommy to me with the tea cake. You make me +nervous when you watch me eat.” + +Sir Thomas came without much alacrity. He had a better opinion of the +duchess’ shrewdness than Levallion; and he was not easy in his mind. +He knew quite well that Ravenel’s renewed beauty and the quiet of her +face dated from that interview with Adrian Gordon, that he had not +discovered in time to prevent. He was uncomfortably conscious that for +all he knew the household might be sitting on a volcano. + +“And how are you?” inquired his friend with her mouth full. “I hear +Lady Annesley is cutting a dash at Harrogate. I don’t suppose you miss +her!” + +“Not much!” stolidly, though he would rather a hundred times have been +back under her ladyship’s rule and been sitting half-fed at Annesley +Chase with the old Ravenel, than here in Levallion’s house with a +sister who would not meet his eye. + +“I’m not pining away for Lady Annesley.” + +“She’d give her eyes to be here,” the duchess chuckled unkindly. “You +seem to have an extremely cheerful collection. By the way, how’s young +Gordon? I hear he’s been very ill here?” + +“He’s better,” shortly. “He had a sort of relapse last week. But he’s +coming down to dinner to-night. We”--hastily--“haven’t seen anything of +him. He’s had a nurse.” + +But the duchess merely murmured that it was a sad case, a man with a +shattered bridle arm being of no further use in a hussar regiment; and +passed serenely on. She had no intention of telling Tommy that she had +found out all about that marriage that never came off. The curate at +Effingham had talked, and the whole parish knew about the couple who +had never come to be married, but had wasted a special license and +the curate’s time. Ravenel’s past was no business of any one’s but +Levallion, who would never hear it. + +“If she has any sense she knows by this time that Levallion’s little +finger is worth a whole string of lovesick soldiers,” she thought. +“I never saw a man so softened and improved in all my life. He looks +twenty years younger. But all the same, if he’s wise, he won’t press +his distinguished young relative to an indefinite stay.” + +But even the duchess felt a shocked pity that night at dinner as she +looked across the flowers and gold plate and saw how very ill and worn +Captain Gordon looked. Why, the man was a death’s head. A romantic, +undesirable death’s head, with its arm in a sling. She glanced at +Ravenel and saw to her infinite relief that she was not so much as +looking Gordon’s way. Exquisitely fair in ivory satin and burned orange +velvet, she was talking to the man on her right hand with her old +childlike mirth. But the duchess was near-sighted. Sir Thomas Annesley +could have told her that there was anything but mirth in Ravenel’s +steady eyes. And truly repentance, impotent pain, and fear were doing +their work. Under that smart bodice Lady Levallion’s heart was aching +dully while she made conversation, as many a better woman’s has done +and will do while the world goes round. + +She knew quite well that the width of a white table-cloth separated +her from Adrian as utterly as a gulf of a thousand miles. Knew that +after dinner he would never speak to her, except in the few sentences +decently demanded from guests to hostess; that as soon as he could he +would get away from the house. + +“Oh, I’ve simply got to speak to him!” she thought. “If I have to make +the chance myself,” for there were two things she had forgotten to ask +him, and one of them rankled. Why had he said he was too poor to marry +her openly, and all the while was Levallion’s sole heir? The probable +successor to the richest earldom in England is not usually considered +a bad match, even by more greedy people than Ravenel. And who was the +woman who had come to ask after him; though she cared very little, or +she determined to think so. She came out of her thoughts with a jerk, +suddenly conscious that she had not the least idea what the man beside +her was saying. + +“I was thinking how pretty all the women are,” she observed quickly, to +avoid having to say. “I beg your pardon.” + +Lord Chayter surveyed the table. It was quite true, every woman there +was a picture in her way; and nearly all he saw were dark; and made a +foil to the peachy loveliness, the curled bronze head of their hostess. + +“My own wife’s the only one of ’em I’d care to kiss though!” he +remarked, rather after the manner of Levallion, who was his dearest +friend. + +“That’s very charming--and proper--of you!” + +“No! It’s the ‘hard kalsomine finish’ that appals me,” coolly. “Come +now, Lady Levallion, you don’t mean to say you can’t see it?” + +For Ravenel, who owned no rouge-pot and eschewed powder, was looking at +him bewilderedly. + +“I thought----” she began, and then laughed, but not too gaily, “was +everything in the grand world a sham, even down to the lovely color on +the women’s cheeks?” + +“That all things were what they seemed? Well, they ain’t unfortunately! +You really ought to be congratulated on your cook, Lady Levallion. I +never ate better chicken done with almonds than this.” + +“I hope you won’t get tired of it,” she returned. “Levallion is so fond +of almonds. He arranges the dinners, you know. I should have roast beef +and plum tart, he thinks--and so I would!” + +Lord Chayter thought she looked as if she lived on peaches and cream; +but he did not say so, for something caught his attention. + +“Do you never have the blinds down in this room?” he inquired suddenly. +“Oh, I see, there are none. But don’t you think it’s rather uncanny +to look over the table and candles and things, and the ladies’ pretty +frocks, to those blank, dark windows? It makes me feel creepy,” +frankly. “As if ghosts might be peering in!” + +“We never use this room when we’re alone. The windows must be a fancy +of Levallion’s. I don’t see very well how we could have blinds on them.” + +For the state dining-room was on the ground floor in the oldest part of +the castle, and the windows were sunk deep and narrow in the six-foot +wall which slanted away from them till each foot-wide window-glass made +the apex of a wide stone V. + +“I should!” said Lord Chayter, who was fat and fair and screwed-up +eyed. “Makes me nervous. Now look, just opposite us! Couldn’t you swear +some one was looking in? though, of course, it’s all fancy.” + +Lady Levallion’s glance followed his and grew suddenly startled. For, +though it was gone in an instant, even as she looked at it, there had +been something like a white face, like gleaming eyes, pressed to the +window-pane of the embrasured window. + +“There, you see! Though it’s either imagination or a gardener’s boy,” +said Lord Chayter. “Don’t look so frightened.” + +“I’m not frightened,” quietly, “but I think you’re right. Those blank +windows make the room uncanny. I’ll have something done to them +to-morrow,” but like lightning her thoughts had flown at the sight +of that face against the glass to the strange woman who had come to +inquire for Adrian; though there could be no earthly connection. + +“Let her look!” she thought contemptuously. “She won’t see much to +please her. And not a soul in the house knows anything about Adrian and +me, and that’s all I care about.” Quite unconscious that Tommy and the +duchess suspected what Sister Elizabeth knew; and that every wind that +blew, every hour that passed, was pushing her nearer to the greatest +horror any woman can face. + +“Screens would do it,” returned Lord Chayter serenely, turning some +attention to his dinner, and determining to drop a hint to Levallion. +For there were windows on both sides of the big room, and it seemed a +coincidence that if any one had looked in they should have chosen the +side behind and not facing Lord Levallion’s sharp eyes. He gave the +subject what he considered a happy turn. + +“Captain Gordon looks pretty shaky! He ought to be careful, if he +prefers earth to heaven,” he observed. “Better keep him here and let +some of these charming ladies take him in hand. He wants a course of +petting, the platonic kind, you know!” Ravenel caught the duchess’ eye, +and rose thankfully. + +“Any one on earth to nurse me rather than you!” Adrian had said. But +her punishment would be more than she could bear if she must stand by +and see any of these women do it. She utterly forgot that white phantom +face at the dark window. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +IN OUTER DARKNESS. + + +And yet it was not such a phantom after all! Inside were women in satin +gowns, sitting at their ease among lights and flowers and frivolous +talk. Outside in the damp chill of the autumn rain stood another woman, +raising herself uncomfortably to the level of that unblinded window. +Cold to the bone, sick with envy and despair she saw the lighted room +as the stage at a theater, where she should have been among the actors, +but had been cast out into the pit. + +Oh, the night, and the rain! What a fool she had been to come out in +her house dress without a mackintosh; she would be wet to the skin. +Suddenly, fiercely, she knew she did not care; and she raised herself +on tiptoe on the stone terrace, clinging with one trembling hand to +the sharp stonework round the window. It was senseless, useless, yet +she must see. And, perhaps, if luck were in her way, if she came night +after night, might see something that, if it did not turn Levallion to +her again, might at least turn him from some one else. + +There was Levallion with his back to her. She had tried the other +side of the room first and left it hurriedly for fear of his eyes. +And over his shoulder, opposite him, she could see the girl who had +supplanted her; whom she--Hester Murray--had helped to do it. A sheer +physical pang made her move back from the window. Lady Levallion in her +ivory and orange, her exquisite young throat and arms bare, her face +immaculately fresh and young, was not a sight the woman who shivered +in the rain could bear to look on. Ten years ago she had been within +an ace of sitting in her place; a year ago would have been hand in +glove with all that well-dressed company who surrounded her. To-night +she knew quite well that not one of them but would have cut her in +the park. For things had come out! Her not being asked to Levallion’s +wedding had set a match to the train, and poor, kindly, drunken Bob +Murray had made a scene one night before a lot of people, and said +things that made even Hester’s gods of money and smartness look at her +askance. He had named no names, it was true; but he had said quite +enough. And then he had departed from her house, from her and her boy +forever; saying they were no concern of his. And though Levallion did +not believe her, for excellent reasons, when she told him she had no +money, it was quite true. Her debts--that she had made sure would be +paid for her--had swallowed up all she possessed. It took all she +could scrape to keep her boy at school, and her tenancy of the raw new +bungalow in Levallion’s own village was her last throw, her forlorn +hope. When he was tired of his new toy, perhaps he might come back to +her; at all events she would give him the chance and trust to luck to +pay her rent! + +But she was not thinking of those things now. Only that her downfall +had been all her own fault. A little carelessness, an unskilful lie +found out, and her life had toppled about her ears. And even this +marriage of Levallion’s was partly her work. She could still see +Ravenel Annesley’s face as it looked in the glass the day she had told +that mad lie about Adrian Gordon. + +“The girl cared then,” she thought, pressing her hand to her burning +eyes. “And he’s here still. If she cares now Levallion will get rid +of her. I know him. Oh, I hope she’ll care! I wonder what there was +between them, and if Sylvia told the truth about their meaning to get +married.” Once more she raised herself to peer through the barren +window, and saw Adrian Gordon plainly enough to catch with a fierce +leap of her heart how very ill he looked. “He may die yet! But it would +be better if he lived, perhaps, and made love to his old flame,” with +the coarse thought of a woman who habitually speaks daintily. “If he +does Levallion shall see it, shall----” She had been so occupied with +Adrian as not to notice that two faces, Lady Levallion’s and Lord +Chayter’s, were turned curiously in her direction, but she felt their +eyes with sudden intuition and moved swiftly away into the dark. It was +no part of her schemes to be seen looking at Levallion’s dinner-party +like a dismissed servant. + +“All that for her,” she thought bitterly, “and nothing for me and the +boy! I would have done better to have stuck to Bob. He never drank till +I ran away from him; he would have been kind to me. Oh, Levallion’s a +devil! a devil!” It was all she could do not to cry it aloud. “If I +can’t get anything out of him, I’ll be even with him. I’ll find some +way to make him feel. If I know anything of faces that pink-and-white +girl won’t be able to keep away from her old lover. And then we’ll +see. Levallion in a rage would do anything, anything! Oh! I’m not done +yet, I’m not despairing yet. Not with Adrian Gordon in the house and +Levallion in love with his wife. Oh, my God!” and this time she spoke +in a dreadful croaking whisper. “What a fool I was ever to imagine for +one instant that he was in love with me!” + +She drew away into the scant shelter of an evergreen, and pushed her +wet, uncurled hair out of her eyes. She had no motive for staying here +shivering and drenched, but the air and the rain even were better than +sitting alone by her solitary fireside, when no one of all the people +she had ever asked to dinner would dream of coming to see her. Once +start the truth about a woman who lives by her wits, and a hundred +things true and untrue come up to confirm it. Hester Murray’s pitcher +had gone once too often to the well; it was broken for good and all +now. And Levallion, who had once been her slave, had forbidden her to +come within his gates. + +“Well, he can do it,” she thought defiantly, “but he can’t make me +obey him! I’ll try one more window and then I’ll go. I don’t want to +kill myself.” And the sharp shiver that went through her made her move +hastily through the darkness. It was odd, but the drip of the rain from +the house made her think of earth falling into a grave. It was ghostly, +terrifying to lurk outside in the dark, while women no better than she +sat at their ease on the other side of a window-pane. + +Stumbling, for all her slim grace; weary, for all the passion that +burned in her, she made her way round the house in the pitchy darkness +that had somehow got on her nerves. There was a little alcove in the +drawing-room, whose modern French window reached the floor--it was odd +how well Mrs. Murray knew the house--it would do no harm to glance +in there, if the blind was up. They would be coming out from dinner +soon; and she might as well see all she could before going back to that +lonely house where no one ever came. And once more that pang at her +heart sickened her. All this might have been hers once, and had been +thrown away. + +There was no standing on tiptoe to reach this second window. Before she +neared it she saw the square of light it flung on the grass, saw the +convenient rose-bush which would shield her from any one inside. And if +there had been any one to see the fierce white face, so changed from +that of the Hester Murray who had been all smiles and softness, they +might have shrunk away as if they saw an evil spirit. + +“Ah!” she drew in her breath sharply, for she had builded better than +she knew. + +Dinner was over; the men were coming into the drawing-room; one, with +his arm in a sling, coming straight to this alcove, unconscious, though +Hester did not know it, that it already held his hostess looking for +a book for which the duchess had asked her. He had sat down wearily +before he saw the gleam of orange and ivory the watcher outside had +seen long ago, as she saw Lady Levallion drop the just-found book and +turn to him quickly, breathlessly. + +Yet her words might have been shouted on the housetops; there was no +need for Mrs. Murray to strain her ears to catch those compromising +utterances through the glass. + +“Won’t you go to bed? You look so tired!” + +He nodded. He could hardly bear to look at her whom once he had never +wanted out of his sight. + +“I’ll go directly. I meant to go away to-morrow, but the doctor won’t +let me travel till the end of the week.” His eyes on her wistfully, +saying what his lips dared not--that it was not his fault that he was +making things so hard for her. + +“He’s quite right,” she answered, for the benefit of any one who might +be outside the curtained recess. “We are very glad to have you,” but +the hard-held look of her face told Gordon what he knew--that the words +were a mockery. + +Mrs. Murray remembered suddenly that she had not seen Levallion come +into the room. An unreasoning and instinctive terror caught her heart, +and sent her noiselessly, invisibly in her dark dress, yards away from +the lighted window. And just in time. + +Levallion, sauntering with apparent aimlessness, an Inverness cape +thrown over his shoulder, an unlit cigarette in his mouth, came round +the corner of the house, Lord Chaytor’s recital of the half-seen face +at the window having set him wondering if it were real or not. But he +had seen no one, and in front of the window he stopped and lit his +cigarette, deciding Chaytor had looked upon more champagne than was +good for him. + +His unseen neighbor slipped behind him, paused for one second to look +under his upraised arm before she took to her heels. And both of +them saw the same sight. A girl turning from a man with a curious, +pitiful gesture, stopped half-way; and the man, left alone, covering +his haggard eyes with his hand. Levallion turned like a flash and had +Hester Murray by the elbow. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +A WICKED WOMAN’S TONGUE. + + +“I heard you breathing,” Levallion said composedly. “No, don’t you +struggle; I’ll let you go! Only be kind enough to tell me what earthly +pleasure it gives you to look in my windows.” + +“No pleasure,” said Hester Murray, after a minute, when her frightened +heart had seemed to choke her, and the quick withdrawal of his +contemptuous grasp to make her a thing of no moment. “Only misery. Oh, +Levallion! Won’t you be less hard on me? If you let me come here and be +friendly with your wife it would set things right again. It kills me to +be alone without a friend in the world.” + +“What things? What do you mean?” sharply. + +She dared not tell him. He would never help her if he knew. + +“Nothing much,” she said, shivering, only half-artificially. “I’ve lost +all my money, and--and people seem to have dropped me! To stay in your +house with the duchess might help me.” + +“Has she dropped you, too,” he inquired, wondering if, after all his +careful analysis, she was not such a fool as she seemed. + +“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her lately,” though she knew well enough. + +Levallion’s hawk eyes narrowed as he peered at her in the rainy +darkness. Her wet hair strayed in lank locks down her face, that for +once was not smiling. (How he had grown to loathe Hester’s smile!) He +put up a suspicious hand on her thin shoulder and recoiled. She was wet +to the skin, her thin house-dress a sticky, sopping mass. + +“Look here, Hester!” he said almost kindly. “Better give up this +business and go home. You won’t mend matters by being seen hanging +about here after dark, merely get some very unpleasant illness.” + +“I wish I’d died long ago.” There was something strained in her voice; +even in the dark she did not look at him. + +“I see what you mean about having no money.” It was odd how that queer +note in her utterance killed the pity in him. “You had plenty.” + +“There were debts--old debts,” she gasped, eagerly grasping at this +chance, at least. “Debts from ten years ago----” + +“You told me there were none,” he shrugged his shoulders. “If there +were, ten-year-old debts are outlawed.” + +“I had kept on paying a little on them. I didn’t know that obviated +any time-limit. They sold me up for the principal and interest.” Only +desperate hope made her speak the truth. “I tell you, Levallion, I +haven’t a sou!” + +“For an astute woman you haven’t managed well,” he said, after what +seemed a long time. “If you had five hundred a year allowed you, +quarterly, do you think you would be able to stay at home in the +evenings?” + +Five hundred a year to the woman who had had five times as many +thousands spent on her! But she swallowed her rage, her contempt at his +beggarly offer. + +“I suppose--I could,” she said slowly. “But--oh! it’s not my poverty +that hurts me, it’s----” + +“Do go home, I beg of you!” said Levallion coldly. “You are not +yourself. And, remember that you shall be supplied with what I +consider an adequate income if you will leave this place and live +elsewhere”--for, after all, he could not let the woman starve, dire and +evil as had been her sins against him. + +“I’ll go--I’ll do anything,” she muttered, with a sudden exhaustion +that made her clutch the dripping bushes beside her. “But listen to me +first. In spite of everything, I care for you still. I’d do anything +for you. I’ve no pride left. If you will come and see me sometimes, +your marriage shall be as if it had never happened----” + +“Have the goodness,” interrupted Lord Levallion icily, “to leave my +marriage out of the question. It concerns you in no way whatever.” + +“It concerns me, because it kills me to see you taken in, deceived!” +she cried fiercely, and so quickly that he could not stop her. “You +could have seen it for yourself, not ten minutes ago, if you had not +been besotted about her. Ask your wife what she knows about Adrian +Gordon, and why she did not marry him,” utterly reckless now as to +whether her lie about Adrian’s wife were found out or not. “She was +engaged to him fast enough; but he was poor and you were rich. It was +better to marry you, and have him come and stay in your house. Ask +Sylvia Annesley--but she’ll lie to you! Ask that big-eyed brother of +hers, who never lets his sister out of his sight. She never loved you, +and she can love--in her girl’s way! Not like me, for I’ll love you +till I die. Oh, Levallion!” panting, wild, she seized his arm, “don’t +throw me over! Think of the boy, think how I have no world but you!” + +“Don’t touch me,” said Levallion, with sudden acrid fury, as if he had +waked from some bad dream in which he was bound and speechless. “Go!” + +“Say that if you’re ever miserable--unhappy--you’ll come back to me!” +She was pleading for her very life, as a fool does when death is +certain. “Levallion!” + +A curious stiffness came over the man from head to foot. When it broke +he would have no power over tongue or hand; and this was a woman. + +“Go away. Be quick!” he said hoarsely. “Because of what’s past you +shall have your money, but not if you stay in my village. Your lies----” + +“They’re truth,” contemptuously. “Ask, ask, and you’ll see!” She was so +close to him that he felt her breath on his face. “Then perhaps you’ll +come to me.” + +“If you were dying in the gutter I would not come to you,” he spoke so +evenly that she did not know that death stood closer to her than even +Lord Levallion. “If you crawled after me on your knees, I would not +change to you--or the boy! No matter what happened, neither you nor he +shall ever get anything from me but the bread I would give to a beggar. +Do you understand?” and in the dark she could not see his face. + +“Oh! you think so now, I know. But when you find her out----” + +That curious strained rigidity seemed to drop from him like a garment. +A dreadful, fiery pain shot through his heart, ran in his blood, curved +his fine hands. + +“Go!” said Levallion thickly, “before I kill you with my hands.” But as +he turned on her she had seen his eye. + +She shrank away and ran, madly, where she neither knew nor cared. She +had gone too far with him! He would murder her out here in the dark. +Her dry, shut throat could make no sound in the terror that would not +let her scream. Trembling, stumbling, falling and getting up again, +Hester Murray fled through the darkness and rain. Her gown, that +had been a soaked whisp, was a mass of filthy mud, her hands were +caked with the clay of the roads, but she ran still, round and round +sometimes, but, by degrees, more in the right direction. It was not +till her breath absolutely would not come to her aching lungs, and the +blood beat in her face, that she came to herself, and realized where +she was. Alone on a country road, nearly at her own house, with not a +soul following her, not a sign of those devilish eyes that had gleamed +murder at her through the dark. + +“He would have killed me!” she said to herself as soon as her choking +heart-beats would let her. “I’ll never get anything from him but that +five hundred a year that’s no use. Does he----” but a noise startled +her, and she ran again like a drunken woman, staggering from side to +side till she reached her own door. + +Her wet hair down her back, her hands filthy, her black, gauzy gown an +indescribable mass of mud and twigs and tatters, the blood purple in +her pulsing face, she burst into her own drawing-room, where a lamp +burned dimly, though there was no fire in the grate. + +“Does he think I’m a fool? That I won’t pay him out, if I have to break +myself to do it?” she cried fiercely, since her one maid went home at +night, and there was no one to hear her. + +But she was wrong, for a man’s voice answered her from the depths of a +high-backed chair that was turned away from her. + +“A fool! No one could see you and think that,” and the owner of the +voice rose, looked at her, and recoiled with a quick word. + +“But what is the matter with you? You are hurt--drowned--tell me +quickly.” + +Hester Murray, in her wet, unspeakable gown, sat down on one of her +clean chintz chairs and told him. Whether the exact truth, or not, does +not matter; but crimson-faced, glittering-eyed, she was a dreadful +sight as the quick words came from her lips. + +What he said, what she answered, she could not remember half an hour +later, as she dragged her exhausted body up to bed, with a curiously +compounded drink in a tumbler, which was to counteract the effects of +exposure and fright. She fell asleep as soon as she felt the comfort of +her warm bed, only muttering now and again as sleep gained on her: + +“I’ll do it. He brought it on himself. It was--his fault. I hate him. +I hate him!” and the fury of the thought wakened her for one burning, +choking instant till her queer potion took hold of her, and she fell +fast asleep, as they say men have done in the rack. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +WHITE POPPIES OF OBLIVION. + + +Levallion, left alone on the wet grass, had never made one step after +her. + +Alone, in the night and the rain, he had fought down that dreadful +passion, that loathing that had made him forget everything but the +desire to be rid of a venomous thing. He fought down, too, a harder +thing; the shame that comes after the breaking out of a devil’s temper, +whose leash has given way under strain; and at last could turn and go +into his house, join his party, as if nothing had happened. + +“Well! Did you discover any one?” Lord Chayter inquired covertly. + +Levallion looked at him. + +“There was no one there,” he said calmly, not knowing that to have told +the truth would have been to put a bar in the way his young wife must +travel. He could not tell Chayter what was none of his business, and +might work round through the women to Ravenel. + +His eyes passed his friend and found his wife. + +“By ----!” said the man’s mind heavily. “If ever I saw innocence, there +it sits. What do I care if she was engaged to Adrian twenty times over, +she did not marry me to be Lady Levallion! She married me because she +was wretched, and if I would have listened to her, she would have told +me the whole story. Ask Sylvia!” he smiled as he alone could smile when +his heart ached. “I would as soon ask the devil for holy water! And +if Tommy did not punch my head for impertinence if I asked him--gad! +I’d kick him. I’m not in my dotage that I believe the statements of an +angry, hysterical woman.” + +But, in spite of himself, Levallion saw every action of Ravenel’s +through a magnifying-glass all the next day. It rained, and there was +no shooting to speak of; the men were at home by luncheon-time, and up +to that Lady Levallion had been with them, chaperoning Mrs. Damerel, +sick and against her will, since to kill birds for pleasure was to her +a crime. And all that afternoon she never spoke to Adrian Gordon, nor +he to her. They might have been utter strangers with a preconceived +dislike to one another. But Adrian looked like a haunted man, who +deliberately turns his eyes from the sight he dare not see. + +“Levallion,” said a charming voice in his ear at tea-time, “I have an +idea!” + +It was Mrs. Damerel, who had for years cherished a platonic--and +unreturned--affection for her handsome, sharp-tongued host. + +Levallion repressed the obvious retort. + +“Tell it,” he drawled; “I never have any!” + +“Let us have a fancy ball to-night--oh! I know there are only twenty of +us, but it’s enough. The men can wear evening dress,” shrewdly, “but +the women must all dress in their favorite flower, and wear masks. +We’re nearly all the same height, and it would be so amusing. Fancy,” +with a delighted laugh, “if you were to take me for your wife!” + +“You never gave me a chance! You refused to poison Damerel,” calmly. +“Every woman her favorite flower--delicious! But what a revelation of +character! What’s yours? The flower of silence?” + +“Then we may?” cried Mrs. Damerel, and hoped she blushed, though it +would have taken sharper eyes than Levallion’s to see it. “I’ll tell +Lady Levallion. My flower, indeed! We will all be quite secret, and +you can guess when you see us,” abandoning her choice of the rose of +silence for the more exciting mistletoe of kisses. “Oh, Levallion! +don’t you think the duchess would be lovely as a cauliflower?” in a +wicked whisper. “She is so like one.” + +“I’ll inquire,” said Levallion briskly, and he did, with Mrs. Damerel’s +compliments, perfectly aware the duchess detested her. + +Ravenel jumped at the proposal, since it would be better than nothing, +would pass the time of which she yet grudged every hopeless, useless +minute since they only brought the day nearer when Adrian would +be gone. She looked at the tea-gowned women around her with some +interest, though before they had been to her little more than moving +shadows who yet must be entertained and amused. + +There were only seven, counting herself and the Duchess of Avonmere, +for Levallion had no opinion of people who asked ten ordinary husbands +and wives to their houses and expected it to be a cheerful gathering. +Thirteen men, of whom only two were husbands, kept things stirring. It +was no business of Levallion’s where the three uninvited husbands had +betaken themselves. + +“I believe,” she said to herself, “that I know what flower each one of +those women will choose!” and she laughed as she sent an order to the +greenhouse that every one was to have exactly what their maids asked +for. + +The thought of her own favorite flower took the color from her cheek. +Oh, the white may that had filled the whole world that day that she +and Adrian parted--forever--without knowing it. Never again would Lady +Levallion smell may of her own free will. She looked up almost guiltily +as Levallion spoke to her under cover of getting Mrs. Damerel’s second +cup of tea. + +“You look tired; slip away and rest,” he advised, with a look of +coldness that was not like him--to her. “And be wise in time, Ravenel; +don’t wear real flowers to-night, unless you want to resemble the +sweepings of Covent Garden!” + +Lady Levallion nodded. + +“It was that shooting; it made me feel sick,” hastily; and if he did +not believe her, seeing Adrian’s face and hers, he liked her courage. +If she had come to him and cried and confided, he would have despised +her, even while he dried her tears. To ease your own soul by piling +your indiscretions or sorrows on some one else was against Levallion’s +creed. + +“I have no favorite flower,” she said, with a laugh, having crushed +down the ghosts of flowers she loved and hated, “and--listen, +Levallion, bend your head down, and--neither have any of them! They’re +racking their brains now to discover what their adorers prefer.” + +Levallion laughed. He had not thought she knew so much, all his dear +friends being truly but mirrors of the pose of the moment, on the +tastes of the “man in possession.” And her laugh lightened his heart, +and made him remember that Hester Murray was, and always had been, a +liar. + +“Mind you look better than the lot,” he remarked cheerfully, and +without much anxiety, for not a woman in the room could come near her +for looks. + +“My favorite flower will depend on what Celeste has in her boxes,” she +thought, as she went up-stairs. Ordinary evening dress was to be worn +at dinner, as usual; but before the men came to the picture-gallery, +where they were to dance, the ladies could have time to change and put +on their masks, which Mrs. Damerel’s maid was making out of black silk, +exactly alike, with black hoods to match and cover the hair, which +might betray the wearers. + +Celeste, with a face of despair, had nothing. + +“There are pink roses, but they would be so ordinary, my lady,” she +said, rooting wildly in her stores. “Nothing else, unless----” She +opened a cardboard box doubtfully, and gazed at its contents. “They are +not gay flowers!” she commented. + +“They will do, perfectly,” said Ravenel, after one second. “They are +very--appropriate. Sew them on firmly, Celeste, and make me a little +wreath that will go under my hood.” + +An old tag of poetry had leaped into her memory as she looked at the +white mass in the box, but she had no tremors lest any one else should +remember and apply it. + +She looked at herself narrowly in the glass when, after dinner which, +by the way, was anything but good, Levallion having had a fresh battle +with Carrousel on the subject of the disappearance of the first orchids +of the season--she achieved her toilet, and, with thankfulness, hid +herself in her thick, black mask. For behind it she could let her mouth +take what shape it liked, and, thank God! for one night need not be +always smiling. + +Levallion was late. He stood at one end of the long picture-gallery, +whence he had coolly banished all his ancestors as being too hideous to +contemplate, and looked between the walls covered with modern French +pictures to the far end of the room. + +There were the guests in a group--and for a moment he was honestly +puzzled, for the women were all of a height, as Mrs. Damerel had said. + +Then he laughed, for he saw the duchess. And the duchess had taken Mrs. +Damerel’s words to heart and bedecked herself with real and veritable +cauliflowers--but with what a genius! + +On the white velvet gown were bestowed wreaths and bunches of the white +part of her homely vegetable, which were almost as velvety as the gown +itself. + +She disdained either mask or hood, and her curled, gray head rose over +her ornaments with the air of a woman who may be fifty, but has slain a +spiteful foe with her own weapon, and knows it. + +“The blue one with forget-me-nots is Lady Chayter.” Levallion looked +again at the group. “Artificial! Artificial! I don’t believe she ever +picked a real one in her life. + +“Yellow and Maréchal Niel roses--Mrs. Arbuthnot. That sweet vision of +chiffon and lilies is Betty Beauchamp! Betty--who has a new young man +every month in the year!” and he grinned. + +It was more amusing than such nonsense usually turned out. But from +Lady Gwendolin Brook, in dull-orange and evil orchids, he turned his +head in disgust, commenting dryly, that she was too modern for future +parties of his. + +“I always stood up for her, too, which is awkward. But I never +understood what she really was, till I saw those devilish brown-spotted +orchids,” and his eyes found Mrs. Damerel and laughed. Shy and modest +violets covered Mrs. Damerel’s lilac satin, mistletoe having been +unprocurable. Mrs. Damerel--who shot, and hunted, and smoked, and +usually put her conversation into plain terms! She might put six masks +on her face when she forgot not to stick out her self-asserting elbows. +And then he looked no more, for his glance had fallen on a woman in +white, standing alone at a little distance from the others. + +It was Ravenel in a plain, ivory satin gown, covered with great trails +of white poppies with purplish-black hearts, and dull-green velvet +leaves. + +Over a mass of the pallid flowers of sleep and death her face and head +were tragic in the black shroudings that he had somehow never thought +looked sinister on the other women. + +And not her mask alone sent a chill to Levallion’s heart. Her eyes, +black and anxious in their narrow eyeholes, were fixed on Adrian +Gordon, who for once stood beside her, was whispering in her ear. + +And as he spoke her somber eyes flashed with a sudden brightness, a joy +they had never had for Levallion. + +“White poppies!” even at his own expense, Levallion was cynical. +“Well, I suppose I may be glad she does not wear the roses of rapture +and silence.” And he cursed with some thoroughness himself for his +suspicious thoughts and Hester Murray for her lying tales, even the +innocent white poppies, because they meant “oblivion”--the oblivion of +a woman who says to herself every morning that she has forgotten. As he +walked over to the duchess to congratulate her on her masterpiece of +decoration, he felt exceedingly cross and out of sorts. But, being Lord +Levallion, determined to keep his eyes and ears utterly away from his +wife throughout the evening. Every girl has a school-day love-affair; +let her bury hers to-night under her white poppies! To spite himself +and prove Hester was wrong, he had half a mind to ask Adrian to stay on +indefinitely, but even Levallion knew he could not do that. + +“My dear Levallion,” said the duchess, as the music--obtained by a +miracle of money and a special train!--struck up, “pray don’t wriggle! +You’re not sitting on a pin, are you?” + +“It’s Damerel,” returned his lordship affectedly. “Don’t look at the +egregious fool! He’ll make you ill.” + +The duchess glanced at Mr. Damerel, who had turned his dress clothes +into a walking funeral with tuberoses, even unto the seams of his +trousers. + +“He’s very funny!” she said doubtfully. + +“He ought to be put into a hearse,” snapped Levallion. “I wish I’d +never read any poetry! I should not be able to remember so many +quotations about the idiocy of man,” but the particular verse in his +mind did not apply to Mr. Damerel’s trousers, and he never glanced at +his wife as she passed him, though her white train brushed his feet. + +Slowly the words were putting themselves together in his mind, and he +knew more than Ravenel did: + + “Now, those are poppies in her locks, + White poppies she must wear; + Must wear a mask to hide her face + And the want graven there.” + +Ravenel had gone no further; Levallion’s vilely accurate memory +supplied two lines more: + + “Or--is the hunger, fed at length, + Cast off the care?” + +And at the memory of the quick and sudden glory of Ravenel’s glance at +Adrian, the man could not but wince. He looked up and saw her standing +beside him. + +“Aren’t you going to dance with me?” she said. “You can pretend you +didn’t know it was I, you know!” + +Pretend, indeed, when he would know her in her grave-clothes with a +cloth over her face! He rose a little stiffly, and put his arms around +her waist. He danced well for all his forty-seven years, and he knew +it; the two floated smoothly down the long gallery to the tune of “Bid +Me Good-by and Go,” and Adrian Gordon, who had never danced with the +girl he loved, had to step back as she passed him in Levallion’s arms. + +“Oh,” said Ravenel, who had not seen him, “you’re holding me too tight! +And you’re out of breath, Levallion.” + +“I am forty-seven,” he returned, rather grimly, stopping by the lower +door. “Now run off and amuse yourself. I must go and condole with Mrs. +Damerel. Did you know she wanted me to send seven miles after dark for +a bunch of mistletoe? In October!” and he deliberately, and of a set +purpose, never turned his eyes toward his wife during the remainder +of the evening, and, when “kitchen lanciers” rent the air, retired, +without ostentation, to the library. + +It was dark, and he turned on the electric light irritably. + +“What did you do that for?” said the cross voice of Sir Thomas. “Oh, I +beg your pardon, Levallion! I didn’t know it was you.” He rose from his +knees at the window. + +“Why are you praying instead of dancing?” inquired Levallion, casting +himself into a chair. + +“I was watching some one, Levallion. I wish you’d put out the light +and come here! I’m sure there’s some one trying to get into the +conservatory.” + +The light went out as he spoke. Sir Thomas was much mistaken if +Levallion did not swear; certainly he groaned inwardly. + +At first he saw nothing as he strained his eyes into the darkness, +and then, against the soft, rose-colored glow of the conservatory, +between him and it, he was conscious of a woman’s figure. Somehow that +restless, black shape touched Levallion’s nerves. + +“Stay here; don’t say anything to any one,” he said, very low, as if +the woman could hear him. “It must be one of the servants, but I’ll +just find out!” + +Whatever deviltry Hester had in mind should not be done. He would, +from a safe screen of orange-trees, that would keep him from view of +the people inside or out of the greenhouse, watch his chance, and +make her understand that, though his lawyer had that day received his +orders, a telegram to-morrow could revoke them. The woman was capable +of anything--as he had good cause to know--and suppose she frightened +Ravenel! Levallion was not long in getting to his covert. But, though +he stared through the leaves till his eyes ached, he saw no more of +that prowling wolf outside; he was just going away, when two people sat +down on a secluded seat not a yard away from him and effectually cut +off his retreat. For as he hesitated for one second, he heard his own +name, in Ravenel’s voice. + +“I tell you Levallion had nothing to do with it,” she was saying +angrily. “If I thought he had, I’d want to kill him--or I’d go with +you.” + +“What did you want to ask me?” Adrian Gordon made no direct answer. + +“Two things, though they don’t matter to me now,” wearily. “I wanted +to know why you said you were too poor to marry me when you were +Levallion’s heir--though I didn’t know it.” + +Levallion stood paralyzed. Hester, then, had not lied--for a wonder! He +felt as if something hurt him unbearably, but he did not even try to +escape it. He wondered dully what Gordon would say. + +“I can’t tell you, except that I,” lamely, “always thought he would +marry.” + +Levallion, white with relief, leaned against his orange-tub. Though, +of course, he had known Adrian would never tell his wife the thing she +asked. + +“Can’t you see,” said Ravenel fiercely, “that it’s the only weak point +in the whole thing. I know about the letters. I know about the ring; +but this hurts me because----” + +“Because it looks like a lie.” Perhaps Levallion was no more sick at +heart than Adrian. “Well, it is quite true! I never counted on being +Levallion’s heir,” though if she had not been Levallion’s wife he might +have given a different answer. + +“I believe you--don’t be angry! I feel as if all the world were a lie +since--since Sylvia,” her voice, that began passionately, broke off in +dragging despair, “separated you and me.” + +“What was the other thing?” said Adrian slowly. “Nel, for God’s sake, +take off that black hood and let me see your face! I am going away +to-morrow,” with quiet and jealous pain. “Why have you got on white +poppies? The real ones always smell to me like laudanum--and death!” + +“I’ve got them on because they mean oblivion,” she answered bravely. +“I’ve got to live my life, Adrian. I made it for myself--and Levallion +has been good to me. The only way I can go on with it is to forget.” + +“What about me?” very low. + +“You can fight it out as well as I can,” bitterly. “I can’t get rid of +Levallion even to please you.” + +“I don’t want you to. Two wrongs,” hardly, “don’t make a right.” + +In the silence Levallion felt curiously and impersonally sorry for +them; mad as it seems, liked Adrian better than he ever had before. + +“Ask me the other question,” Adrian said quietly, “and then you must go +on. I don’t want you to be missed, and found with me.” + +“It doesn’t matter,” not knowing that one day every soul in the +house-party would remember just how many minutes she had been absent +with Adrian Gordon. “Oh, the question! I only wanted to know--though +your concerns are none of my business since Lady Annesley sent you away +from me--who the woman was who came down with you that first day and +asked for you that night at the door.” + +“Asked for me?” in utter surprise that Levallion felt was real. “Came +down with me? Nel, be sensible; don’t imagine rubbish! You know +perfectly that what I thought you had done to me had made me loathe all +women. I don’t think I’ve spoken to one since. Lady Annesley sent me +back your ring. No woman could come and inquire for me.” + +“One did,” obstinately. + +“Then I don’t know who,” and Levallion was glad he did not. “Nel, you +distrusted me once with good reason for a great thing; don’t fuss over +rubbish now.” + +Levallion heard a rustle of silk. Had Ravenel moved? But her voice came +from exactly the same place. + +“I’ve got to go on till I die,” she said in a carrying whisper. “Go +away to-morrow, Adrian, or I can’t bear it. The only thing you can do +for me is never to see me again.” + +“I know; don’t say it, will you?” roughly. “In old times I’d have +quietly poisoned Sylvia and killed Levallion, but now I can only go +away.” + +“Don’t speak like that about Levallion; he’s more to be pitied than +either of us. If he died to-morrow----” + +“If he died, would you marry me?” Gordon interrupted sharply. + +“I’d cry myself sick. I wouldn’t look at you.” The loyal, grateful +voice fell till a listener farther away than Levallion could not have +heard it. + +“It’s time for me to go,” thought Levallion; her loyalty, that was +not love, hurt him unbearably. “Let her say good-by to him, and +then--we’ll see! If I were not her husband I could make her love me +best in a week!” + +Deftly, inch by inch, he made his way past their unconscious backs, +doing his best not to hear any more. He was a dishonorable eavesdropper +already, but he did not care. He would not have any one else hear, +though, and that rustling of silks had been unpleasantly close. + +Whoever it had been was gone now. Levallion hurried to the library to +tell Tommy they had seen a kitchen-maid watching the quality; hurried +to the picture-gallery to see who was missing besides Ravenel! + +“Gad, I wish it had been any one else!” he thought wretchedly. For the +only woman absent was Lady Gwendolen Brook, of the orange gown and the +evil orchids. And that she entered at that moment did not reassure him, +for with her was Scarsdale, and Jimmy Scarsdale believed in the honor +of neither man nor woman, and always said so--with examples. + +“Levallion, have you seen Ravenel?” cried the duchess. “We’re waiting +for her to go to supper.” + +The two latest arrivals exchanged glances. + +“Then don’t wait,” returned Levallion lazily, with his best manner. +“She’s with Adrian in the conservatory. I don’t wonder you’re hungry, +I am quite a wreck. I interfered with my cook’s amours, and he quite +cowed me with his dinner to-night. Come, if you wish me to live till +morning,” and the duchess never knew that he was inwardly cursing +himself, fate, and two, if not three, of his guests, as he took her +down-stairs. + +“She’s had time enough,” Lady Gwendolen and Scarsdale were close behind +him, “to say everything by now. She hasn’t been up here for an hour. I +wonder----” + +Scarsdale hushed her by a look at Levallion’s back. + +It was a gorgeous joke on Levallion, but not good enough to quarrel +for. Besides, Lady Levallion was meeting them as they reached the +dining-room. + +Somehow every one stared at her as she let them pass her at the door. +She had taken off her mask and hood like the others, and, under her +crown of poppies, her face was white, exhausted, beaten, the face of a +woman who has said good-by to love and youth. + +Lord Levallion helped the duchess to game pie, and finished the +quotation that had worried him all the evening: + + “Lo, these be poppies--not for you, + Cut down and spread.” + +He put his untasted supper of plain almond soup, which was all he +ever took at night, on the first floor for Mr. Jacobs, who licked the +plate scrupulously clean, and immediately after was as thoroughly and +scrupulously sick. Sir Thomas hastily removed him as a footman removed +the remains, and, being a conscientious master, dosed him till he was +sick again, for there was froth about his mouth, and Sir Thomas feared +fits. + +It was not a pretty incident, but luckily only Levallion and Tommy +beheld it--unless the outraged cook peering through the pantry door saw +the insulting treatment Levallion gave his soup. No one else thought +anything about it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII. + +THE MOONLIGHT PICNIC. + + +Levallion, contrary to his custom, rose early the next morning and +repaired to Mrs. Murray’s house, meaning to strike terror into her soul +by threats of withdrawing her allowance. + +There was no smoke coming from her chimneys, and, as he was about to +dismount and knock her up, an untidy female emerged from the back +premises and announced that their late tenant had decamped without +the formality of giving notice. She had, to the station-master’s +knowledge, taken a ticket for London on the preceding morning, and +Levallion decided, with some relief, that it must, after all, have been +a kitchen-maid whom he and Tommy had seen looking in the conservatory. + +He was not to be pleased on reaching home to find he might have spared +himself his journey, for the post brought a letter from Hester, posted +in London, in which she implored his forgiveness for her foolish +outspokenness, thanked him for his bounty, and hoped “that one so +unworthy as she might never set eyes on him again.” + +“Too humble,” quoth his lordship, in the seclusion of his drawing-room; +“means something.” + +But the precise meaning did not occur to him. And Sir Thomas’ bleak +face at breakfast put Hester out of his mind. Mr. Jacobs had nearly +died in the night, was even now in a parlous state. Sir Thomas was of +the opinion that he must have been poaching in the afternoon and eaten +poison laid down for marauding cats; an opinion with which the vet. +agreed, going so far as to mention prussic acid. + +“It could not have been on my land, then,” Levallion informed the +gathering that surrounded unlucky Mr. Jacobs. “I don’t allow poisoning.” + +“It’s prussic acid, my lord, wherever he got it,” the vet. returned +obstinately. “But he’s round the corner. + +“It’s likely that soup last night saved him.” + +“I dare say,” said Levallion indifferently, but he stroked Mr. Jacobs, +who licked his hand. All dogs worshiped Levallion, just as every dog +Mrs. Murray ever owned mysteriously pined away and died under her care. + +It was a gorgeous morning, clear and cold. Levallion had no special +desire to shoot, but anything was better than staying at home as +special policeman, under the amused eyes of Gwendolen Brook. He was +utterly astounded as he joined the other men to find Adrian, on a fat +pony, was going with them. + +“Queer thing, honor!” he meditated. “A badly bred man would have stayed +at home. I’ll look out he doesn’t overdo himself.” + +Afterward Adrian Gordon remembered that never had Levallion been to him +as he was that day. No mother could have looked after a child better +than Lord Levallion, the man he had good reason to hate. And Jimmy +Scarsdale saw it--with a grin that was wasted. Lady Levallion must be +as deep as the sea. + +Lady Levallion looked anything but deep at that precise moment. She had +thankfully sent her flock of women to a golf tournament ten miles away, +and was seated in the garden with Tommy and the recovering Mr. Jacobs. +Wrapped up in a big cloak she looked very young, dreadfully tired. Sir +Thomas saw it downheartedly, and connected it with her silly and marked +absence with Captain Gordon the night before, a piece of idiocy he was +too angry to mention. Though he would have been angrier still if he had +known every word she had said had been overheard by Lady Gwendolen--and +others. + +“Jacobs was poisoned,” he said moodily. “Just wait till I find out +where he got it.” + +“Miles off, I dare say. Levallion won’t allow it. What’s he growling +at?” for Mr. Jacobs stood bristling, weakly ferocious. + +“That beastly cook,” with exasperation, “what on earth do you keep +him for? Jacobs, come here, Jacobs!” But the dog had been through the +garden, and Tommy raced after him in time to see Monsieur Carrousel +launch an enormous stone that barely missed Mr. Jacobs’ head. + +Sir Thomas seized his dog by the collar. + +“What, the----” he began; and saw Ravenel standing by him, out of +breath, but looking inches taller than her height. + +“May I ask,” she said to the bearded, elegant person who was kind +enough to cook his dinners, “why you are pulling my rockery to pieces?” +with a glance at the fern-covered stone on the path. + +“The dog is dangerous. He threatened my life,” with a majestic rage. + +“You are quite wrong, the dog is harmless. If you are afraid of him, +remember that you will be quite safe in your kitchen. This--is my +garden!” She turned her back with a manner the duchess would have +envied. “Come, Tommy, and bring the dog.” + +“Why were you so down on him?” Tommy inquired when they were out of +ear-shot. “I really believe Jacobs would have bitten him. Goodness +knows why, but he hates the man!” + +“So do I,” hotly. “There is not a seat in the garden where I can go +without finding him in the neighborhood. I feel as if he had the evil +eye on something; he makes me shiver. Levallion’s going to send him +away.” + +“When’s Gordon going?” said Tommy abruptly. + +“To-morrow.” She grew scarlet. “Tommy,” she said miserably, “don’t be +horrid to me! I don’t deserve it. I don’t mean even to speak to him +before he goes.” + +“All right,” gruffly, but he slipped his arm in hers as he had not +done since he came. “I say, Ravenel, I’ll be glad when the others go! +They’re no good, except the duchess.” + +“I can’t bear them,” with sudden viciousness. “I feel all the time that +if I were down in the world not one of them would speak to me--even +Lady Chayter. The others are--well, her ladyship was a good imitation +of them!” + +“That reminds me,” he picked up Mr. Jacobs and rolled him in Ravenel’s +cloak. “I’m sure I saw the old Umbrella yesterday, in the village.” + +“Oh, nonsense!” + +“I did, then; looking mighty out at elbows. What do you bet she’ll not +be up here, whining to you?” + +“She can whine,” deliberately, for whatever Lady Annesley had done, it +was sure to be no secret to the Umbrella. “Hateful old wretch!” + +“Beats me how Levallion ever was a friend of Sylvia’s,” observed Tommy +idly. “By George, I get hot all over when I think how I used to hate +him.” + +“He’s kind,” in a stifled voice. “But oh, Tommy! Sometimes I feel as if +I should scream with the shut-up-ness of being grand! The fine clothes +and too much to eat, and--it’s rather awful being Lady Levallion!” + +“It’s better than her ladyship,” the boy said dully. “Brace up, +Ravenel! Nobody in the world is downright happy, I believe.” + +He lit one of Levallion’s cigarettes to avoid conversation, and refused +to see she was crying. When he threw away the stump she was sitting +quite motionless, but she was dry-eyed. + +At dinner he looked at her covertly and wondered why on earth she wore +a black gown. It made her eyes look dark and gave the red and white of +her face an unearthly clearness. + +“She looks awfully old, somehow,” the boy thought uneasily. “I hope +she doesn’t go and make another break to-night. She looks----” even to +himself he did not say “desperate.” After all, he knew no reason why +she should be. + +But when he went into the drawing-room, after putting Mr. Jacobs to +bed, something caught at his heart. Neither Ravenel nor Captain Gordon +were there; and all the women but the duchess had a furtive look. + +“Beasts, women!” Sir Thomas retreated as suddenly as he had entered, +determined to fetch his sister to her senses, or die. But at an open +window in the hall something moving outside in the moonlight caught +his eye, and checked his hasty walk. He hung out recklessly, and saw +two figures disappear into the shrubbery, a man and a woman in a black +dress! + +“She’s mad,” said the boy, with something like a sob in his throat. And +turned round to see Ravenel and Levallion looking at him. + +“I--I felt dizzy,” he stammered, scarcely believing his eyes; for if +this were Ravenel, who was that outside? + +“I don’t wonder,” said Levallion cheerfully. “In another minute I’d +have hauled you in by the legs. Come and play blind man’s buff with the +rest of the idiots I have taken into my house.” + +“I think I’ll take a stroll. It’s hot in there. Where,” in pure blank +desperation, “is Gordon?” + +“Gone to bed. He starts at seven,” and just as if he were sorry for +the girl who stood by in silence, Lord Levallion did not look at +her as he followed her into the lights, the scent, the circle of +women--enlightened by Lady Gwendolen--that made his own drawing-room a +place of torment. + +Sir Thomas, in his thin shoes and no cap, slipped unnoticed out into +the moonlight, pure curiosity his only motive. The woman had looked +like a lady, a lady’s long dress and voluminous evening cloak had +showed plainly where she stood in the clear moonlight. The night was +bright as day, the air warm, almost balmy, as if the moon had brought +back summer when the sunset chill was gone. + +“I don’t believe it was any old kitchen-maid last night,” he thought, +as he followed the path by which that mysterious man and woman had +vanished. “I could see very well, but I believe it was well--whoever +it was now!” rather feebly. No one had told him of the lady who had +come to ask for Gordon, and he had never chanced to pass that new +bungalow that had given Levallion such an unpleasant surprise. Against +his will there cropped up in his mind those old stories of Levallion; +if one-half of them were true, there must be several women ready to +eat their hearts by staring in at his respectable married windows! Sir +Thomas hoped devoutly there was not going to be any fuss. The path led +him from the gardens into the park, across the grass among the deer, +and into a thick tangled wood. But the boughs were leafless, and the +moon showed him that the path went on still, a dark thread between the +dead bracken under the crowding trees. It wound on and on, and the +night silence of the wood somehow quieted Tommy Annesley. Through the +arching boughs overhead he could see the cloudless indigo sky; the moon +peeped at him in uncanny suddenness from different directions as the +path twisted. He stepped more and more cautiously, as if the noise of +a breaking twig under his feet would have been a crime in the stirless +quiet of the wood. + +“This is rot,” he thought, stopping once. “No one can be here,” but +something drove him on again even while he called himself a fool. The +curious awe that was on him deepened till, without knowing it, he was +moving noiseless as a midnight thief walking a strange road. With a +queer thrill he pulled up standing; slipped before the moon caught the +telltale black and white of his clothes in the surrounding dimness, +behind the trunk of a great girtled oak. The path had stopped, as +suddenly as the trees and undergrowth it ran through. Before him was +a clear, circular space, covered with wan, short grass, and drifts +of brown, dead leaves the moon made fantastic. In the middle of it +stood one huge oak-tree, where clusters of dead leaves still hung like +banners against the moon on the branches that stretched over a solitary +flat rock; dark, high, like an altar. + +“What on earth,” thought Sir Thomas, peering cautiously. His +bewilderment could not put itself into words. + +The oak-tree was between him and the moon. If there was any one beside +it, they were blotted out against its thick bulk of darkness. But what +was that clear, steady glitter on the rock? A crystal, starry glitter +that in one spot turned to worn gold? + +A quick rustling behind him made him turn with apprehensive annoyance. +No one likes to be caught inspecting the world from behind a tree. But +the rustling was Mr. Jacobs. + +“Lie down!” whispered Sir Thomas savagely. “What silly fool let you +out?” He grabbed the humble Jacobs--who had been vastly proud of +escaping from bed and scenting him out--in his arms, that he might not +bark; and suddenly felt that he was glad the dog had come. For the +place was ghostly. + +“It’s impossible, though, to lug him and edge round a bit nearer!” he +thought, deeply interested in that glitter which was no business of +his. “By George!” + +A man had come from against the tree, hoisted himself rather clumsily +on the breast-high rock, and seized the golden shining point that +had taken Sir Thomas’ eye. A familiar pop, and a quick gurgling came +through the quiet air; Tommy nearly dropped Mr. Jacobs as he grabbed +his jaws together to stop a bark. + +“Champagne! a--well, I’m blowed! I’ve come all the way out here to +gaze on a moonlight picnic. Lord knows who they are!” as a woman swung +herself lightly, boyishly, beside the man and stretched her hand out +for the glass he held. + +The two were whispering--and oh! if Tommy Annesley could only have +heard those muffled voices!--presently the man laughed, and a woman’s +laugh answered him; shrill, hysterical, strained; full of that fierce +madness that would change the sound of the laugh of the sister you grew +up with, and make it unrecognizable. The incongruous horror that was in +that laugh caught Tommy’s nerves, slacked his grip of Jacobs. He had +never dreamed any woman’s laugh could sound like the howl of a wild +beast. + +Mr. Jacobs felt he could not bear it. He gave a low, shivery growl, +and before Sir Thomas knew it, was on the ground, running like a wiry +white devil straight to that picnic-party that sat unawares. He ran +quick--that was what froze Tommy’s voice in his throat. If he had +barked it would not have mattered what he rushed at, but a silent +Jacobs was another thing, as dogs and cats knew. + +Before Sir Thomas could get clear of his hiding-place, the need was +over. Jacobs had flown straight at the man’s legs, where they hung over +the rock, but with a wild leap his prey had sprung to the top of the +mighty slab, where he stood upright, never making the slightest motion +toward the woman beside him, whose long cloak had hung over his menaced +legs. Tommy heard Jacobs fall back heavily as he missed his spring; saw +him pick himself up, trot deliberately back to his master, slowly and +with puzzled growling, as of a dog who had been deceived. + +The boy stooped and took something from the dog’s shut jaws. He had +seized the woman’s cloak. + +“Not her, or she’d have yelled!” he thought with relief. And then as +the man moved, a living silhouette against the cold moonshine, Sir +Thomas Annesley knew him. + +“I wonder,” he thought, sick and shaken, “if the moon’s made me crazy?” +He made a step toward the pair on the rock--and oh! if he had only gone +close to them--and then drew back. It was no business of his. But the +thing was so unpleasant that he held his tongue about it. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII. + +THE DARK GLASS. + + +“Adrian’s gone,” said Lady Levallion to herself as she woke the next +morning. She knew she ought to be glad of it, thankful that he was no +longer in Levallion’s house; for which reason, probably, she dragged +herself out of bed and thought with blank loathing of the empty day +before her; of the women who must be amused; of Levallion, who must not +see she missed any one. + +“I might as well pretend not to care if Tommy died!” she said bitterly. +“For it’s just the same. If I know anything about Adrian, he will never +see me again, of his own accord.” + +There was a letter on the plate at breakfast, and for one-half second +she thought he might have written a bare half-dozen words of farewell +to the woman he had meant to live and die with. But the common +envelope, the scrawled address, undeceived her. It was a begging +letter, and she opened it listlessly, and hardly noticed some scraps +of torn pasteboard that fell out of it. But as she read the soiled +half-sheet of common writing, Gwendolen Brook nudged Colonel Scarsdale. +Lady Levallion’s face was a dull crimson from forehead to chin. + +Even Levallion noticed it, as she stuffed the letter into her pocket +and gathered up those fallen bits of pasteboard. Noticed, too, that +the very instant breakfast was over, she went to her own sitting-room, +scarcely waiting to hear the plans for the day. Yet it was not the +letter that had brought the blood to her face. That was from the +Umbrella, as Tommy had prophesied; and the news in it was late for the +market, except that it gave chapter and verse of what Ravenel had only +guessed at. + +Lady Annesley had turned Adams out, she had lost her savings, was at a +farmhouse half a mile off, with no money and--she thought--dying. Would +Miss Ravenel come to her, as she could not die with her wickedness on +her mind? It was she who had warned Lady Annesley of that wild dream +of marriage with Adrian Gordon, she who had shown him Ravenel’s torn +Sunday frock on the day of the duchess’ party, and said that as Miss +Annesley could not go to the fête for want of a dress, she had gone to +the country town with Sir Thomas. + +“This is the card Captain Gordon left for you the day you was out,” it +wound up. “I send it so you may see it is true. Her ladyship cut his +ring off your neck that day you know of, and gave me five pounds to +post it to him. I kept the torn card just to have something to hold +over her. But she didn’t care, and she turned me off. I’m a dying +woman, I feel it. They’ll let me die here; if you’ll come over and say +you know me--and, oh, Miss Ravenel, do come and say you forgive me! For +I saw you at your wedding, and I wake up at nights and see your face, +which was like a dead person’s. I don’t want money, the parish can bury +me, only you to say you did not mind about Captain Gordon.” + +“I won’t go,” thought Ravenel, laying down the letter. + +“She always hated me. She’s only doing this to pay Sylvia out. I +couldn’t see her. I won’t let any one tell me things--or pity me,” but +even as she said it she knew she would go. She was never a good hater, +and the woman was dying--or thought so. + +She laid the scraps of card on the table and pieced them together. +There was one bit gone. The Umbrella must have left it in her +ladyship’s rubbish-basket. But she made out the penciled pitifully +guarded scrawl, in spite of the missing corner. + + “Dear Miss Annesley”--it ran--“how have I missed you? Didn’t you get + my letter? I sail to-morrow, but after mess. Please.” + +“Forgive her!” said Ravenel, making sense well enough, for she knew the +missing words must have been, “I’ll come back to-night” and “meet me,” +because of Adrian’s story of his useless waiting in the garden. “I +can’t forgive her. I don’t believe I ever forgave anything in all my +life, or forgot, either. I’ll send her money, but I never want to see +her as long as I live.” + +A sound at the door startled her into saying, “Come in” before she +swept the patched card off the table. It was only Levallion, but his +face grew gray as he saw her put her arm sharply over the torn card, +the scrawled letter. Something that had been on his lips died there, +and there flashed up in his mind, like an instantaneous photograph, +the memory of Adrian falling in a dead faint under the trees, and the +little inarticulate, dreadful cry with which Ravenel had sprung toward +him. + +“Are you coming out?” he said. “They are waiting for you,” and he went +away without waiting for an answer. + +Her back had been to the door. She had not seen his face, nor could she +dream that outside in the lonely passage he stood for one instant, and +hid his worn face in his hands. The next second he threw into a jar of +flowers a scrap of penciled card Lady Gwendolen had said sweetly was +his wife’s; “Lady Levallion had dropped it.” + +“It’s not very valuable,” Levallion had answered, glancing at the +scrap, and taking in both sides of it with the quickness habitual to +him. But now, when he had seen her poring over some fragments exactly +like it, he cursed his quick eyes and Lady Gwendolen. For on one side +of the quarter-card was “Gordon--Hussars.” On the other, “I’ll come +back to-night. Meet me. ‘A. G.’” No wonder Ravenel had turned red and +torn it up. + +“Quid pro quo!” said Lord Levallion slowly. “It’s my turn now, I +suppose, having taken a wife instead of borrowing one. But I don’t +think there’ll be any meeting!” He straightened himself, wearily, and +went out shooting as if his heart was not like lead. Somehow, he had +lacked either courage or inclination to tell Ravenel what he knew. And +she never dreamed he would have listened to the silly, childish story +that meant nothing now, except to her and Adrian. + +She sent some money to Adams, with a carefully written note to the +effect that she knew of nothing she had to forgive, since nothing Lady +Annesley or her maid had done had caused her any harm. It was a lie, +of course, but there was nothing else Levallion’s wife could say. She +breathed freer when it was gone. + +But when the shooting-party came home, Levallion’s face somehow worried +her. All the softness was wiped off it, and he talked as the old +Levallion had been wont to, not the new. She waited for him in her +dressing-room till the gong went for dinner, but he never came. And +when he passed her in the drawing-room on his way to give his arm to +the duchess, she stopped him. + +“Levallion,” she whispered, her hand on his arm, “what’s the matter? +Aren’t you well?” + +“Perfectly, thank you,” he said quietly, but he never looked at her. A +sudden gust of wicked temper shook him like a leaf; if they had been +alone he would have broken out in questions that would have ended in +relief; but here before every one made him shake off her hand as if it +had been a snake--to wish the next second that he had kissed her before +the whole room. + +For as he looked straight before him he met Lady Gwendolen’s amused, +insolent eyes, and knew that all he knew she knew also; and his +knowledge of it besides. His lordship went into dinner with the +cheerful conviction that at forty-seven he had made a fool of +himself--before the people! And it did not soften his heart to his wife. + +A curious second light, born of strained nerves, made him slip away +from the men some ten minutes after the women had left the dining-room. +And crossing the hall was what he had expected, Ravenel in a hat and +cloak, hurrying to a side door. Levallion’s heart turned over. + +“Where are you going?” he said very quietly. But his hand that caught +her arm was not gentle. + +“To--out--the man’s waiting----” she gasped, utterly terrified. +“Levallion, don’t look at me like that! It’s a poor woman who sent for +me this morning, and I wouldn’t go. She’s sent again to-day; she isn’t +dying, but she must see me. Thought I could go and be back before you +came out of the dining-room. The woman knows me, she used to be Lady +Annesley’s maid. Look!” she held out a scrawled letter. + +But no one knew better than Levallion that any letter might mean +anything. He flickered it to the ground contemptuously. + +“You have excellent reason to go and see your stepmother’s maid,” he +said, careless that he betrayed ill-gotten knowledge. “But I fancy +not to-night. You can drive over in the morning. Go back; take off +those things; try and remember that if I was blind other people are +not.” His low, furious voice carried farther than he knew, to where, +on the turn of the staircase, Lady Gwendolen Brook stood breathless +with laughter. Having seen the note delivered which sent her hostess +from the drawing-room, it had been a delightful way of passing time to +follow her. But she had not anticipated anything so amusing as this. + +“Levallion,” said Ravenel, “you’ve no right to speak to me like this!” +She threw off her cloak and hat, and in all her white satins faced +him paler than he. “Now, if the people you’re afraid of do come,” she +whispered contemptuously, “they won’t see anything to amuse them. +But listen to me you shall. Even though I don’t know what you are +suspecting. Read those.” With a gesture that was superb, she stooped +for the letter he had dropped, put it and another into his hand; +“then go outside and speak to the boy who’s waiting to take me to the +farmhouse, and then tell me, if you like, what you are thinking about +me.” + +“As you like.” He shrugged his shoulders, having in his day written +many a letter that meant other things than were in it. But as he read, +his face changed. There was nothing in those letters but their face +value. + +“Ravenel,” in the stillness she heard the men rising in the +dining-room, heard a quick rustle of silk on the stairs, and moved +sharply round a corner so that she was out of sight. But Levallion was +quicker. They stood now in the porch of the side door, as much alone as +in Sahara, and she saw in the dim light that his hard mouth trembled. + +“I have behaved abominably,” he said with a humiliation that sat ill +on him. “I--I found half a card this morning; and I heard something you +said to Adrian the other night. I thought----” + +“Here’s the rest of it. It was six months ago I was to meet Adrian,” +she answered simply, for she knew what must have been on the card. “Did +you think it was to-night? That I meant to meet another man, and steal +out of your house to do it?” + +“I feel like _Othello_, whom I always considered an egregious ass!” +said Levallion slowly. “You see, it was just what I should have done, +in Gordon’s shoes.” He slipped card and letter into his pocket. + +To Ravenel’s own surprise, the tears came to her eyes. + +“You wouldn’t,” she cried hotly. “Never! Why do you lie about yourself? +You know nothing would make you do a thing like that.” + +“Nor you, either.” She had never heard his voice so slow, so gentle. +“I was a fool to doubt you. But I heard--the other night in the +conservatory. I thought you cared still; that this--that when I cared +at last, fate was having its revenge on me. But I know better now!” +Before she could stop him he stooped and kissed the hem of her gown. + +“Don’t,” she gasped. “I’ve been wicked. I thought at first when I +found out--for I never found out till I saw the ring they cut off his +finger--and heard how he got it--that you had known all Sylvia did.” + +“My poor little child,” he said soberly. And then wistfully: “You’ll be +as happy as you can, won’t you? I--I try, you know.” + +“I’m happy, and I’ll be happier,” she answered bravely. “I--you know I +like you, Levallion?” + +For sole answer he held her hand, hard. Hope waked in him somehow, +loyalty and liking were a good half the battle. + +“We must go back,” he said. “You forgive me? I was brutal, but it cut, +you know,” simply. + +Of her own accord Lady Levallion leaned forward and kissed his cheek; +afterward she was glad. + +“What does this thing mean?” he asked, with a look at one of the +letters. “She says she isn’t dying, but that she thought to say so +might hurry you. What is it that you must know to-night, or it will be +too late?” + +“It can’t be anything! All she can tell me is dead and gone,” said +Ravenel, with shame. “Oh, Levallion! I hate your knowing how wicked I +was, to worry you--and all that.” + +“Hush, hush!” almost roughly. “Don’t talk like that. Look here, I’ll +tell you what we’ll do! We’ll go over to the farm when the others have +gone to bed. The hour won’t matter if they’re sitting up with her. I’ll +tell the boy, go, go now.” + +There was a kind of awkward hush when Lord and Lady Levallion entered +the drawing-room. The duchess had gone away that day, and her absence +had loosened Lady Gwendolen’s tongue. Lord Chayter rushed into the +breach. + +“Where’s that stuff you were talking of the other day?” he asked +Levallion. “You said it cured headaches, and I’ve a most infernal one.” + +“I said it enlivened the soul, if you had one,” dryly. “It isn’t a +medicine. It’s a liqueur, Eau de Vie Magique. But I think I drank it +all. I don’t know where it is.” + +“In your dressing-room,” said Ravenel promptly. “I’ll get it.” There +was something in the women’s faces that troubled her, something covert +in their eyes that she was glad to escape from. + +Mr. Jacobs arose hastily from a secluded corner and followed her out; +and as he lumbered affably beside her she never dreamed that her life +hung on whether he came with her or not. + +Five minutes later she was back; panting, white, with startled eyes, a +squat bottle in her hand. + +“Have you seen a ghost?” said Levallion, from where he stood by the +liqueur-stand. + +“No!” she gasped--and she looked as if she had seen murder! + +“Jacobs frightened me--dreadfully! He--I think there must have been a +cat.” As she held the bottle out to him it shook in her hand. + +“It’s a dead cat, then,” said Tommy. He rose and went to see where +Jacobs had gone to, but no one took any notice of his movements. + +“I shall have to dose you!” said Levallion lightly. “Your nerves are +all off. There’s very little here. Chayter, I’d thought there was more. +And it looks muddy!” He poured it out and glanced at it. Instead of +being clearly green it was a little clouded. + +“Seems so, somehow!” Levallion sniffed it suspiciously. + +“Smells of almonds.” He raised the glass to his lips and tasted it, +giving the bottle to Ravenel. + +“Levallion!” Her shriek terrified them, born of unreasoning terror as +it was. “Put it down, don’t touch it!” Wildly, frantically, she tried +to snatch the glass, but she was too late. + +Levallion had mechanically swallowed the strangely flavored mouthful. +He turned to her, smiling. “It’s quite spoiled. You’ve----” + +The empty bottle fell from her hand, crashed to atoms on the floor. + +“Levallion,” she screamed, “speak to me!” + +He swayed toward her, his handsome face convulsed; crashed, like a log, +to the floor. As she sprang to him he struggled, his teeth clenched. + +“We ought to have gone!” he gasped. “Ravenel--she’s been--too much for +me!” + +But when she would have lifted his head it dropped lifeless on her +breast. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV. + +ALONE WITH THE DEAD. + + +“He’s poisoned; he’s dying!” + +It was many a day before any one in that room forgot the sound of Lady +Levallion’s voice. She crouched on the floor, holding Levallion as she +had never done, and his face was ghastly against her white satin gown. + +“Hush!” cried Chayter roughly. “For God’s sake, Scarsdale, send some +one for a doctor!” but some one had gone already. + +In the horrid silence that had fallen on the room each rattling breath +Levallion drew sounded harder than the last. All the men were round +him, there was a bustle of servants, a calling for useless remedies; +but toward their hostess not one woman stirred. It was sinister, +ominous, to see them crowded together in their smart gowns; a wide +space between them and the overthrown liqueur-stand, and Ravenel +huddled on the floor with a dying man in her arms. So it was that +Doctor Houghton saw them, when at last he came. The bare floor, the +rucked-up rugs, the litter of broken glass and silver round Lady +Levallion--white as her gown, against which Levallion’s black clothes +stood out in horrible limpness; and behind them and the kneeling men +about them, that wall of silks and satins, of inimical women’s faces. +Even as he stooped and touched Levallion’s hand that picture stamped +itself on Houghton’s brain. + +“They think she did it,” he thought, like lightning, as he wiped the +froth from the stiff lips. + +“Clear the room!” he said. “Send the ladies away. No, not you!” as +Ravenel only clutched Levallion more fiercely. But when they were gone +he tried none of the remedies he had brought with him. Adrian Gordon, +Lord Levallion, had been dead this half-hour past. Very gently Houghton +laid the handsome, dark head back on Lady Levallion’s knees; and no +one, she least of all, saw it was the living face, and not the dead, +that he looked at so long and steadily. + +“They hate her, and, if I’m not careful, she’ll be hanged because a +handful of women don’t like her,” he thought, after that long look at +the girl Levallion had married. It was part of his trade to read faces. +This one, if he knew anything, was innocent. For no guilty woman would +ever have been utterly unconscious of self as this girl was; or could +have sat clinging to the dead man as did she. + +“If she’d done it, she’d be crying on a sofa,” he was thinking, even +while he listened to Lord Chayter’s story of what had happened. “Or if +she had nerve enough to touch him her face would show the strain. She’d +bare her lower teeth like they all do when they’re guilty.” + +“Don’t whisper, Lord Chayter,” she said sharply. “You can’t wake +him! Doctor Houghton, it was I brought him the bottle--and owed him +everything! He was kind--to me.” + +Every man in the room but Houghton knew that she and Levallion had +quarreled that very night; not one of them knew how they had made it up +again. But at the dreary, tearless voice, perhaps, only Jimmy Scarsdale +did not feel a lump in his throat. + +“Don’t talk,” said Houghton gently. “Never mind us. You could not help +what was in the bottle.” + +“I--Jacobs frightened me,” she said vaguely. “But, oh! why don’t you do +something?” + +She looked up, caught Houghton’s eyes, and felt frantically at +Levallion’s heart, that was stone cold. + +“It doesn’t beat!” she cried, like a frightened child. “I can’t feel +it. Levallion!” the cry rang out as it has done since the ages of ages; +the useless, desperate call of the living to the dead. + +“Dear Lady Levallion,” said Houghton softly, “he can’t hear you! I got +here too late.” + +She looked at him as if she were dazed. + +“Too late,” she said; “it’s all too late.” She swayed forward till her +face lay on the Levallion’s breast that could shelter her no longer. + +“Let her lie!” said Houghton savagely. “It’s the only kindness we can +do her. Good God, are there no women in this house to come to her, that +she is left to men? To me, who barely knows her?” + +“You sent the women away,” said Scarsdale slowly. + +“And if one of them had cared for her I might have ordered her out +till I was black in the face.” But he dared not say it aloud. He was +tall, young, and strong; and he lifted Lady Levallion in his arms as if +she had been a child. But, though he rang and rang her bedroom-bell, +it was minutes before any one answered it. But the strong face of the +Frenchwoman who came at last pleased him, also the little cry with +which she ran to her mistress. + +“Your master’s dead,” he said bluntly, “and your mistress has fainted. +Help me to get her to bed. Where’s Sir Thomas?” for it had suddenly +come over him that Lady Levallion’s brother was nowhere to be seen. + +“He ran out after his dog that came raging through the servants’ hall a +long time ago. He knew nothing.” + +With quick fingers she was loosening Lady Levallion’s gown. “Oh, +Monsieur Houghton, I did go to the drawing-room door to help my lady, +but Lady Chayter say to me you would not let me in. So I run out of +doors to see if Sir Thomas is anywhere, and he is not.” + +“Don’t try to rouse her too much,” Houghton returned, as if he were +thinking of something else. “I’ll give her something to make her sleep, +by and by.” + +He strolled into the next room as though to give Celeste time to +put her mistress into bed, but he did not stay there. It was Lady +Levallion’s dressing-room, and opened, as he knew, into a passage that +led to her husband’s. Doctor Houghton went in quietly, perhaps to see +if it was there they were bringing Levallion. But the room was empty. + +Levallion’s dressing-gown that he would never wear again lay waiting +for him, his half-read novel was on the table by his bed; the trivial +comforts of the room were dreadful to the man who had been Levallion’s +friend, perhaps his only real one, except the Duchess of Avonmore. +Houghton looked deliberately round the room. + +There, over the bookcase, was the shelf from which Lady Levallion must +have taken the bottle--that bottle which lay in flinders down-stairs, +that not the cleverest detective on earth could say had been the one +Levallion owned or not. There were other bottles left, chiefly curios +in the way of drinks which Levallion had been too wise to try. Doctor +Houghton did not look at them, did not touch anything. He scarcely knew +why he had come there, except that there might be something that would +tell a tale. And there was not one earthly thing. + +“There’s no doubt that he was poisoned, and with some preparation of +prussic acid,” he thought, staring idly before him. “And he did not do +it himself, for there never was a man who loved life better than he. +And he loved his wife, if ever I saw devotion in a human being. Now +what, I wonder, made those women behave like that to her to-night, just +as if they knew something to her discredit! I’ll lay odds,” grimly, +“that when five women get together against one, there’s nothing they +don’t think they know about her, especially when her looks beat them +all. And every one of those women behaved inhumanly to-night.” He +pursed his clean-shaven lips as he tried to remember just on what terms +Lady Levallion had been with her husband, and the only out-of-the-way +thing that came to his mind was the night a strange woman had come to +the door, and Lady Levallion had looked inwardly furious. + +“She probably had good reason to, if any kind friend had aired poor +Levallion’s past to her,” he thought, with wrong-headed shrewdness. +“Anyhow, I’m going to do my best for her till I find out she’s guilty. +If Levallion were here,” with incongruous reasoning, “he’d like me to. +I believe,” tenderly, “he would have given even the devil fair play. +At any rate, he wouldn’t want his wife’s name dragged in the dust, and +it sha’n’t be, if I can help it. Though, perhaps, I’m a fool with my +foregone conclusions. No one’s breathed a word against her.” And yet he +had known the second he entered the drawing-room that every soul in it +thought Lady Levallion had murdered her husband. + +“I don’t believe it was any one in the house who did it,” the man said +to himself, because he was cross-grained to begin with, and had been +rubbed the wrong way. “I’ll go and find Sir Thomas. He ought to be +with his sister instead of chasing dogs,” and he turned the handle of +the closed door that led into the corridor, instead of going back the +way he had come. The door stuck, and he gave it a vicious jerk. As it +swung forward something dark fell soundlessly on the floor, and the +man’s quick eye saw it. With it on the palm of his hand he moved close +to the electric light, and saw what it was. A tiny triangular rag of +tweed, thin, rather worn, a small, irregular check of fawn and brown, +with a red thread in it. + +“Now, where,” said Houghton to himself, “have I seen the trousers that +came out of?” And the cloth was so familiar that it struck him it must +have come from Levallion’s own wardrobe. + +“Well, the only thing that looks like a clue is disposed of!” he +thought, shrugging his shoulders. But he put the little rag carefully +away in a pocketbook. It seemed hopeless to prove when and how it had +caught in the door, but less things than that rag had saved women’s +lives. + +He hurried down-stairs at a sound of bustle in the hall. There were +boxes and rug-straps being piled there, and it may be forgiven Doctor +Houghton if he thought there might be some one among the house-party +who could not get away fast enough. + +“A band of robbers could not be in a greater hurry!” he thought +bitterly. And then his face lit up. + +Some one inside the drawing-room door threw it open. A voice Houghton +knew said authoritatively: + +“What’s this, gentlemen? Surely you understand no one and no luggage,” +emphatically, “is to leave this house till I hold my inquest.” + +It was Doctor Aston, the coroner. But before Houghton could move toward +him a hand caught his arm. + +“I went for him.” Sir Thomas Annesley looked fifty years old. “Was it +right?” + +Houghton nodded. But it came over him suddenly that if there were +things he did not know the coming of the coroner would be the beginning +of the end for Lady Levallion. + +“Go to your sister,” he said gently. “But, stop! What’s this about your +dog frightening her, and----” + +“Nothing,” said Tommy drearily. “He went up with her, and I suppose he +saw a cat or something. I found him raising Cain in the kitchen, and +some one opened the door and let him out. I ran after him, but I lost +him. When I came back they said you were with Ravenel, and I thought +I’d get the coroner. How on earth, Doctor Houghton, did that bottle get +poisoned? Levallion gave me some of it only a little before dinner.” + +Houghton could only shake his head. + +Half a mile off the only soul who would have told him sat up on the +death-bed that till now she had only half-believed in. + +“Get Miss Ravenel,” she cried clearly, loudly. “Get her, or they’ll +hang her.” + +“Hush, my poor soul!” said the farmer’s wife pitifully. + +“Lady Levallion, then!” the Umbrella clutched at the air as if to grasp +the life that was leaving her. + +“I want to tell--I----” She turned suddenly rigid, a dreadful stiff +figure, only its eyes alive. + +“Tell her they’ll murder him! they----” + +She fell forward on the bed. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV. + +A DEAD MAN’S SWEETHEART. + + +“Levallion’s drawing-room!” said Houghton to himself bitterly. “Inside +his own house, that fools say is a man’s safest place.” + +For he and his assistant had but now finished a hateful task, to +Levallion’s friend, and if there was doubt about who had killed +Levallion, there was none about the poison that had done it. + +“There was enough prussic acid in his stomach to kill a horse, let +alone a man!” Houghton thought, as his assistant departed with his +ghastly paraphernalia. “And God knows what form it was given in, +perhaps, but I don’t.” + +With his own hands he made Levallion’s body ready for his grave, but +not even Houghton’s skill could cross the dead hands on the breast. He +lay as death had found him, with his arms outstretched to the woman he +loved. Houghton drew the sheet up to the chin, and looked at the dead +man’s face. + +Handsome, in a hard-bitter way, Levallion had always been. Dead, the +unearthly beauty of his face caught Houghton’s breath. + +Every saturnine line, every sardonic curve, had been wiped off it. Over +the hard eyes the white lids were gentle; the lips that had been weary +so many a day under the dark mustache were set in ineffable peace. For +all the majesty of that still, set face, there was a strange youth in +it, as though death had brought him gently to a very far land, where +there were neither the lies nor the shams he had scorned--and the joy +of it was written on the dead man’s face. + +“That was Levallion!” said Houghton involuntarily. Perhaps no one but +he had known that, until six months ago, when Ravenel came into it, +Adrian Gordon, Lord Levallion, had been weary of his life. Neither +goodness, nor fair dealing, nor common chastity had the man ever met. +Small wonder that his tongue was keen as his eyes, or that cynicism was +written on the corners of his lips. + +“The real Levallion, who had to die just as he cared to live. Well, God +give his murderer justice!” + +He did not know he spoke aloud, and he wheeled as some one answered him. + +“There’s no justice,” said a voice that made his blood stop in him, “or +I’d be there, and not he.” + +Lady Levallion, all dressed as if it were day instead of seven o’clock +in the morning, stood at his elbow. + +“I beg your pardon!” said Houghton stupidly. For his life he could have +made her no more sensible answer. + +“I married him. I didn’t love him----” + +If he had not seen her speak he would never have known it was Lady +Levallion’s voice. + +“I----” + +He looked at her sharply. Every bit of color was gone from her face. +She was grayer than the dead man. + +“Go and rest. You’re doing no good here,” he said sharply, as people +speak to hysterical patients. But there was no hysteria in her narrowed +eyes. + +“How can I rest? It’s all my fault,” she said slowly. + +“Why do you say that? It’s nonsense.” + +“I don’t know why, but I feel--no, no! I don’t mean it!” + +She had broken off with terror in her voice, and for the first time +Houghton doubted her. Yet a woman in grief will say anything. And in +grief she was, for, as if she were alone, she fell on her knees by +Levallion. + +“I’d have died for you a hundred times, rather than this!” she was +whispering in the ears that could not hear. “If you could only know +that, I could bear it.” + +Houghton turned away sharply to the door, so that no one else should +see what was between two people--the living and the dead. The +awful incongruity of the whole thing came over him. The man’s own +drawing-room, all flowers and silk hangings and carved ivory, where, +instead of rose-colored lamps, four unshaded candles burned at the head +and foot of the couch where Levallion lay covered with a white sheet, +where Lady Levallion knelt motionless in a plain serge gown that--or, +perhaps, it was not the gown--made her ghastly. + +“What am I to do?” she was muttering. “Levallion, what am I to do?” + +With a strange passion she kissed his lips, his shut eyes. + +“You believed in me, you trusted me,” she said, very low, but in the +silent room the whisper carried. “Oh, wherever you are, trust me still! +Even if I--hold my tongue.” + +Doctor Houghton felt suddenly and physically sick. Then he remembered +he had no right to have listened. No right to judge any woman who was +mad with grief, as this one was. He went to her, to try and get her +away, and something in her attitude made the suspicion in him die down +again. Lady Levallion was crouched close to the dead man’s breast, +pressed to him as a child in trouble to its mother. Whatever she meant +to be silent about it was not any guilt of her own. For, as if it were +her only refuge, she was clutching Levallion’s body. + +“Come to your brother,” said Houghton softly. “Come away.” + +“I only want Levallion,” she said very pitifully. “He was kind to me,” +in the old parrot cry. “Let me stay with him.” + +The man nodded, because he could not speak. In spite of himself he was +assured that even if Lady Levallion got up at the inquest, and swore +that she herself had killed her husband, it would not be true. + +“I wish I’d died for him,” she said, with a strange involuntary turning +to the man who a moment ago had judged her. And Houghton believed her. + +In the silence he shivered, for the chill of death, as well as morning, +was in the great room. He had had a hard night’s work and no sleep, but +he could not go and leave Lady Levallion. Any chance comer might hear +her say something senseless, might retail it at the inquest. + +“Why did you bring him here?” she cried suddenly. “This awful room--he +was alive here only a little while ago.” + +“It seemed best.” The man could not say that one reason was lest he +should disturb her by taking Levallion to his own room, so that she +came in and saw him before he was made ready for his coffin; the other, +that here the jury would more easily view the body. He thanked God she +had not got here before he carried Levallion back from that bare table +in the justice-room, that she had no thought of what had been done +there. + +“You must come with me,” he said, and for the first time she looked at +him. + +“You care!” she said sharply. “Oh, I thought there was no one who cared +but me--and Tommy! And I never cared till to-night. God knows I’d sell +my soul to have him back--even to know what he would like me to do.” + +“Tell the truth!” said Houghton involuntarily, and saw freezing terror +in her eyes for the second time that night. + +Her answer was absent, curious. + +“I’ve nothing to tell. In my inmost soul I believe, I will believe, +I’ve nothing to tell. Oh, if I’d only made you happy, perhaps----” + +“Look at his face,” said Houghton simply. + +But she barely heard him. + +Once more she drew to her breast--now that it was too late for the man +who had longed for her love to feel it--the face she had never held +there in life. With anguish she kissed the shut eyes--for there are +two kinds of love in a woman’s heart, and if she had given one utterly +to Adrian Gordon, it was the other, that is best and highest, that was +Levallion’s now. If she cared this hour whether Adrian Gordon lived or +died it was not for his own sake so much as Levallion’s. + +“Good-by,” she whispered. “I’ll never see you again. You were too good +for a little fool like me. And if I’ve brought you here, I’ll pay for +it.” + +She took no more heed of Houghton than if he had been a stick or a +stone, as she let him follow her to where Celeste waited in the hall. +But though Doctor Houghton went to bed the thoughts in his mind kept +the sleep he needed away. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI. + +TRIFLES LIGHT AS AIR. + + +“The last jury on earth he would have wanted!” + +Doctor Houghton looked at the country neighbors whom the very irony of +fate had assuredly brought together as jurors at the inquest on the +death of Lord Levallion. He had systematically neglected or despised +them all, and there was not a man among them who really wondered at the +tragic ending of a man who had been so notoriously unpopular. Since not +one of them owed either benefit or injury to Levallion they should give +a strictly impartial verdict, Houghton thought, as he was sworn; yet it +had struck a curious anger in him when, as they viewed the body, not +one of them had said “poor Lady Levallion;” and he realized that the +whole county thought her a victim to a loveless marriage. + +He was apparently the first witness; and, stripped of its +technicalities, the gist of his evidence was that the late Lord +Levallion had certainly been poisoned with some form of prussic acid in +the liqueur he drank. The post-mortem left no doubt of anything but the +precise form in which the poison was administered. + +“Some one, any one, might have been in his dressing-room during the +evening,” he finished slowly. “I found this in the door, caught in the +lock,” producing his little rag of tweed, “but I am afraid it is no +clue; for the stuff is familiar to me, and was very likely a suit of +Levallion’s own, which he might have worn that afternoon. Any thought +of suicide is out of the question!” sharply, as a juror murmured +something. “Lord Levallion was the last man to do such a thing. He was +a man of very superior intellect, and was, of late, supremely happy.” + +He did not notice that a girl was sitting in a dark corner behind him +as he stepped down from the witness-stand, and stood where the face of +each fresh witness would be clearly seen. For the servants were called +in, and one by one dismissed as useless. + +All of them had been sitting in the servants’ hall when Sir Thomas +Annesley’s dog had come through there as if it were mad, and run +all round the room and thence into the kitchen; where a terrified +scullery-maid let it out. + +Mrs. Briggs, the housekeeper, almost inaudible for nervous weeping, had +heard nothing till told his lordship was dying. She had been sitting in +her own parlor with Carrousel, the cook, who had a toothache. He was +with her when the dreadful news came. + +“No, neither of us,” she sobbed, “had ever left the room. I was dozing +by the fire, he was walking up and down. No”--again--“it was impossible +the chef should have left the room and come back without my knowledge.” + +Carrousel came next, a tall man with a short, dark beard, and very blue +eyes. He was neatly dressed in a black coat and gray trousers, and +looked most unlike a cook. + +On being sworn and interrogated, he shook his head. + +“I can tell you nothing, monsieur,” he said. “I was not well; my teeth +were aching; I walked the floor in the housekeeper’s room. I heard +nothing.” + +“What time did you go there?” + +“At ten o’clock. At twenty minutes past eleven they came and told me +his lordship was dying.” His florid face paled a little. + +One juror asked if he had not heard Sir Thomas’ dog barking in the +kitchen. + +“No, monsieur,” respectfully. “The housekeeper’s room is some distance +from the kitchen. I heard no noise. I was glad to sit by the fire, +perhaps to doze. It was as well, perhaps. I have had no sleep since. +Milord was an excellent patron to me. He understood eating.” + +There was a listless detachedness in his voice, as of a stranger who is +utterly apart from his surroundings. + +“What did you serve his lordship for dinner?” the coroner said suddenly. + +“It was not that which killed him,” Carrousel returned gravely; “since +the whole society partook of the same plates. My cooking does not give +even an indigestion, much less death. Monsieur does not mean that he +suspects me?” patiently. + +“You are here to answer, not ask,” Doctor Aston returned coldly. And +with an extraordinary knowledge of cooking and flavoring and accidental +poisoning, he asked question after question of the chef, fruitlessly. +The man quietly, without anger, cleared himself. It was impossible that +he could have tampered with any portion of the dinner, since every one +of his four kitchen-maids had seen it all prepared. As for any of his +almond flavoring--which in sufficient quantity was poisonous--having +been put into the bottle which killed Lord Levallion, almond flavoring +was a thing for small pastry cooks. When he required it he used +almonds, of which his lordship was very fond. He had in his possession +absolutely nothing with a smell of bitter almonds, which could have +been stolen and added to the bottle to hide some other taste. + +The jury stirred impatiently--there had been no question of poison +in the dinner--till it suddenly occurred to them that from the +coroner’s minute questions Carrousel had been obliged to account for +every instant of his time from six o’clock till twenty minutes past +eleven. If there had been any juggling with bottles in Levallion’s +dressing-room, the busy cook could have had no hand in it; for the +kitchen-maids’ evidence tallied with his. + +Carrousel stood an instant, as if watching for a question that did not +come. + +“You can stand down,” said the coroner, and for one second the cook’s +listlessness vanished. There was relief in his face, as of a man who +has patiently despatched a disagreeable duty. + +The butler succeeded him, and, having charge of the cellar, was all but +turned inside out with questions, the result of which was that there +had been absolutely no other bottle of Eau de Vie Magique in the house, +which could have been poisoned and substituted for Lord Levallion’s +own, nor had he ever seen, or heard of, such a liqueur in his life. +There was no doubting his honesty, nor his distress about his master’s +death. + +Levallion’s own man was called--the only old servant in the house. He +did not look particularly honest--Levallion had more opinion of brains +than honesty, perhaps--but Houghton thought, perhaps erroneously, that +he was the only clever witness they had had so far; and the first who +would not be content with clearing himself, but determined to find out +the murderer. + +“My name, sir? John Lacy,” he said, his hard, light eyes taking in +every face in the jury, with as much scorn for their capacity as +Levallion could have had. “I have been with his lordship ten years.” + +“Did you ever see the bottle of liqueur with which Lord Levallion was +poisoned?” + +“I don’t know,” quietly. “I saw the bottle of Eau de Vie Magique which +he kept in his dressing-room. It was given to him this summer by a +gentleman in Aix.” + +“Do you mean it was taken away and another substituted?” + +“I couldn’t say that, sir. But I know the liqueur was all right last +night at seven o’clock, for Sir Thomas Annesley came up to my master’s +room with him, and his lordship made him drink a glass of it before my +eyes. Sir Thomas seemed very down, and as if he wanted to speak about +something. But his lordship put him off.” + +A little rustle of interest ran along the jurors’ bench. + +“Then if it was Lord Levallion’s own liqueur he drank, you contend it +was poisoned during the evening?” + +“I’m certain of it, sir.” + +“Did Lord Levallion to your knowledge possess any poison?” + +“No!” said Lacy flatly. “If you mean he committed suicide, it’s out of +the question. His lordship was more contented than he had ever been in +his life--or since I knew him. Somebody gave it to him!” + +“Was he on bad terms with any one?” + +“Plenty of people!” calmly; “but none of them would be likely to do it. +I might about as well accuse her ladyship of doing it as sensibly as +any of the”--he stammered--“the others!” + +“Do you mean Lord and Lady Levallion were not on good terms?” sharply. + +“I didn’t mean to imply that, sir,” flushing. “I said, and I think, +Lord Levallion was more than happy. I never heard of any trouble +between the two, except that last night I did hear them having a few +words about going out or something, as I was passing through the hall. +But it was nothing at all, sir!” hastily. “I beg you don’t think I’m +insinuating anything against my lady.” + +“Were you not in Lord Levallion’s dressing-room during the evening?” + +“No, sir! I left it all neat, and was gone down-stairs almost as soon +as his lordship left the room. I never went to his dressing-room of an +evening till I was rung for.” + +“You did not touch the bottle?” + +“Yes, sir! I put it up on the shelf, and I scratched my hand on it for +about the tenth time. It was a rough-made, molded bottle, with a sort +of seam down each side, and time and again I’ve caught a scratch inside +my hand from that rough seam.” + +“Were you alone in the room?” + +“No, sir; his lordship’s second man was with me. It was not either of +us that tampered with the bottle.” + +“Is that it?” The coroner pointed to some fragments of glass on a tray. + +“I couldn’t say.” Lacy fingered each scrap slowly; none were bigger +than a shilling. He looked up suddenly. “In my opinion it isn’t!” he +said. “But you will understand that in the state the bottle is it can +be only my opinion. I wouldn’t like to swear to it, but I think it. All +I can say is that it is bits of glass and label which might be the one +that was in the dressing-room. I wouldn’t swear it was the same.” + +“Will you swear it is not?” sharply. + +Lacy took the fragments and dust of paper-labeled glass to the light; +went over each bit with the seeing fingers of a blind man, as well as +faultless eyesight. + +“It’s not the same bottle,” he said, after what seemed an hour. +“There’s a pink smear on the label. His lordship’s bottle, when I left +it, was clean.” + +“That does not prove it a different bottle,” judicially. “Only perhaps +that some one touched it.” + +“To the best of my belief,” returned Lacy doggedly, “that is not his +lordship’s bottle. I can’t find the seam on any of the pieces.” + +“Or in the dust,” said a juror scathingly. + +But Lacy stuck to his opinion and was let go. For some reason, and to +Houghton’s wonder, the coroner never mentioned that rag of tweed. + +A frightened footman took his place, who had taken coffee to the ladies +after dinner. + +“Were all the ladies in the room then?” asked Aston. + +“Yes, that is--no, sir! I took in coffee and a note for her ladyship,” +stammering, “and she gets up and leaves the room and Lady Gwendolen +Brook after her.” + +“With her,” the coroner half-corrected. + +“Just as you say, sir,” abjectly. “I’d got out in the hall with my tray +when Lady Gwendolen come out and run up-stairs after her ladyship.” + +“Oh!” said the coroner quietly; “you can go.” + +He called Lady Gwendolen for the next witness, and Houghton’s mouth +tightened. + +He remembered how the women had stood when he arrived, how aloof, how +ironical. If he were not mistaken, the drama would begin with the new +witness. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII. + +THE EVIDENCE IN THE CASE. + + +Lady Gwendolen Brook, darkly handsome, exquisitely ready, even to her +hat, to leave Levallion Castle the first possible instant, took the +oath with a fastidious wonder as to where the little crowd of servants +had kissed the book. + +It was quite exciting to be a witness; she felt aggrieved that the +jury were all “country frumps,” who might not appreciate the charming +picture she was making as she answered a few innocuous questions. +Presently she would give a dramatic recital of Levallion’s dreadful, +staggering fall as he drank the liqueur his wife had brought him. But +the gently spoken coroner suddenly put drama out of her head. + +“Did you go to your room when you left the drawing-room last night +after dinner?” he said mildly. + +Terror caught Lady Gwendolen by the throat. Did the man dare to think +it was she who had been to Levallion’s room to poison him? + +“No!” she said sharply, angrily. “I went after Lady Levallion, to--to +ask if anything was the matter.” + +“Why did you think anything was the matter--and how far did you go +after her?” + +The second question made her ready to say anything to clear +herself--from what was not in any one’s mind but her own. + +“I went to the head of the stairs outside her room,” she said, “and she +shut her door as I got there. I stood a minute in an open doorway, and +she ran past me in a cloak and hat--as I thought she would,” flurriedly. + +“Why did you think it? And did you come down then? Did any one see what +you did, or where you went?” + +Lady Gwendolen glanced wildly round the room as if for some one who +might prompt her. Jimmy Scarsdale had told her to hold her tongue +if she had to go on the stand, but Jimmy had not known this horrid +coroner would suspect her. She caught Houghton’s hard blue eyes, and +her last remnant of self-control left her. + +“No, nobody!” she cried. “But if you think I went to Lord Levallion’s +dressing-room, I can show you I didn’t. I went after Lady Levallion +for fun, and to see if I could find out what her little game was. She +dropped a card--a torn card--at breakfast-time, and I picked it up; and +gave it for fun to Levallion. It had on it, ‘I’ll come back to-night. +Meet me,’ and I knew there was some lark on, I had almost forgotten +it, when Lady Levallion got a note in the drawing-room after dinner. +She was standing beside me, and she crumpled it all up in a hurry. She +said to herself, quite loud, ‘I’ll have to go,’ and she flew out of the +room.” + +“All this has nothing to do with your movements, has it?” queried the +coroner politely. + +“Everything!” She was what Lacy called “utterly rattled” and +frightened. “I thought Lady Levallion was going to slip out and meet--a +man--and I thought what a huge joke it would be on Levallion, who +had suddenly grown so domestic. When Lady Levallion passed me in her +outdoor things I ran to the turn of the stairs to see where she went. +And I heard Levallion come out of the dining-room and stop her. They +fought like cats and dogs, and I dared not go down till they moved. As +soon as they did I ran back to the drawing-room. I can tell you every +word they said if you like. I never heard him in such a temper. And he +had been annoyed all day, ever since I gave him that card.” + +Houghton’s head was buzzing like a sawmill. There had been trouble, +then, of which he knew nothing. But he could not make it fit with that +memory of Lady Levallion’s face as she clung to the dead man. The +coroner’s voice steadied him to clear attention. + +“Why did you give the card you found to Lord Levallion instead of his +wife? And how did you know it was hers?” + +“Because I saw her drop it!” she answered the second question first, as +women do. “I gave it to Levallion for amusement, to see what he would +do. He had grown so very married and dull, and stuck his wife on such a +pedestal over us all, that I wanted to give him a jar. He told me with +all the air in the world that there was no one like her, and I wanted +to see if he meant it. I knew he must have heard every word she said +one night in the greenhouse to Captain Gordon about marrying him if +Levallion died. Colonel Scarsdale and I saw him----” She stopped. Jimmy +would throw her over for this, bag and baggage, and she needed him just +now. But the thing was beyond Jimmy’s jurisdiction already. + +“Be good enough to say what you mean, clearly. You saw whom?” + +“I saw Levallion moving away behind some orange-trees one night in the +conservatory. Captain Gordon and Lady Levallion were talking and he was +listening. They didn’t know he was there.” + +“How do you know he was listening?” + +“Because I heard some one behind me where I was sitting and I knew it +was not Captain Gordon and Lady Levallion, who were just in front of +us. I looked through the flowers and saw Levallion. He must have heard +every word they said. We did!” + +“Who do you mean by we?” + +“Colonel Scarsdale,” crossly. “He heard, too. He can say what he likes, +but he did!” for Jimmy would have to back her up now. This man meant to +know just why she had taken enough interest in Lady Levallion’s doings +to follow her. Otherwise she could not prove by any earthly means that +it was not she who had been prowling round Levallion’s dressing-room. + +“Colonel Scarsdale will answer for himself,” slowly. “For just a few +moments more I must trouble you, Lady Gwendolen. Were you in the +conservatory by accident, or a thirst for amusement?” + +“Accident--I don’t know,” she stammered. “Lady Levallion and Captain +Gordon had left the room where we were dancing, and they were gone for +such ages that they kept us waiting for supper. I went partly to get +cool, and partly to see if they were there.” + +“And stayed to listen to their conversation?” + +“I couldn’t get out,” angrily. “You don’t understand! They were on one +side of me and Levallion was standing still on the other. I could hear +his heart beat and his shirt-front creak. I couldn’t go past either +him or his wife.” + +“Did what you heard repay you for your forced stay?” + +“It was just the tail end of a silly flirtation,” viciously, “if that +is what you mean! Rubbish about her having to forget, and not being +able to get rid of Levallion to please him. And something about sending +Captain Gordon back a ring.” + +“Yet you were sufficiently interested to listen.” + +Lady Gwendolen shrugged her shoulders. + +“It was interesting enough,” she said. “He said that in old times he +would have----” She stopped, her very blood seemed to stop in her; her +callous heart to turn over with horror. If she told what Gordon said, +and it was true, she was putting a rope round his neck. The thought +made even Gwendolen Brook sick. + +“He would have what?” + +“I won’t tell you!” she gasped. + +“I am afraid you have no choice,” said the coroner quietly; and the +jury whispered together. + +“He said in old times”--it was like dragging out every reluctant +word--“he would have poisoned Levallion, but now he could only go away. +I know he didn’t mean it!” wretchedly; “it was just flirtation.” + +“Flirtation is apparently an elastic word,” Doctor Aston said dryly. +“Is that all?” + +Lady Gwendolen had vices in plenty, but her blood and breeding went +against lying. She thought of her oath, of the Bible she had kissed, +of--and this went home--how useless it would be to perjure herself when +Jimmy Scarsdale might certainly give her away. + +“I forget,” she gasped. But the coroner had seen her stop another +sentence on her tongue. + +“I am very sorry, you naturally hesitate,” he said--and even Houghton +was not sure whether he was earnest or sarcastic--“but I must have the +whole, if you please.” + +“Well, then, he said would she marry him if Levallion died!” defiantly. +“It meant nothing. I know a woman who gave a man a note about the same +thing. ‘I, so and so, promise that on the death of my husband I will +marry you, so and so, within a year.’ But, of course, she won’t do it!” + +The jury gasped. They were not smart, but estimable county magnates who +were not accustomed to playing with the Ten Commandments. + +Lady Gwendolen misunderstood the gasp, and rushed further into the mire. + +“Of course I don’t wonder Captain Gordon was excited,” she cried +valiantly. “He was Levallion’s heir till his marriage, and the nurse +who looked after him while he was ill here told my maid that Lady +Levallion had been engaged to Adrian Gordon when she married Levallion! +The nurse heard them----” + +“I think that is enough hearsay,” said Aston quickly. “You can step +down.” + +“Cannot I go? Must I stay here?” with a disconcerted glance at the +roomful of servants. + +“I must ask you to take a chair,” said the coroner absently. + +“But you can’t want me any more!” wide-eyed. “You see, surely, that it +was only because I wanted to see if Lady Levallion was going out to +meet Captain Gordon that I went up-stairs after her.” + +“Why did you think she had gone to meet him? He had gone to London.” + +“Because the card said, ‘I’ll come back to-night’ and ‘meet me’; it was +signed A. G. What else could I think? But it was all silly nonsense. +You can’t think any of it had to do with----” But she did not finish +the sentence. Vain, heartless, empty-headed woman that she was, +Gwendolen Brook saw suddenly what her foolish evidence had done. She +had made a fool of herself, had brought Jimmy Scarsdale and herself +into a nice mess--and Jimmy would half-kill her. Of the anything but +nice mess in which she had involved her hostess she would not think. +She began to cry from terror and humiliation. + +Monsieur Carrousel moved quietly forward from among the servants, and +handed pretty, foolish Lady Gwendolen Brook a chair. + +Colonel Scarsdale came in stolidly, and when he saw Gwendolen’s face +hidden in her ring-laden hands was stolid no longer. + +“She made an ass of herself!” he thought swiftly, and wondered what the +devil he was to do. + +He pulled at his mustache as the questions began; he had no wish to be +mixed up in the thing, but, on the other hand, if Lady Levallion had +poisoned her husband--as he honestly thought she had--she could clear +herself. Downright lies, too, would be no use if Gwendolen had told all +she thought; which was probable, since she would not look at him. + +“Will you be good enough to tell us what you heard one evening in the +conservatory?” said the coroner, blandly, and Scarsdale made up his +mind. + +“There were so many evenings in the conservatory,” he said slowly, “I +don’t remember any particular one.” + +Lady Gwendolen’s hands dropped from her face. Was Jimmy going to fail +her? + +“On this particular evening you had danced. You went into the +conservatory to wait for supper. Did you hear any conversation, or know +that any one was there?” + +“I heard a couple of people talking. I didn’t listen.” + +“How near were they?” + +“I couldn’t tell you. It was not very light.” + +“Did you, on your oath, recognize the voices?” + +“I couldn’t swear to them. One man’s voice is very like another’s when +he whispers.” + +“Did you know the woman’s voice?” + +“I thought at the time it was Lady Levallion, but I supposed she had a +right to be in her own conservatory.” + +“In fact, you recognized her voice?” + +“I may have imagined it.” + +“Did you hear what the man said to her?” + +“I heard the usual conservatory love-making,” calmly. “I couldn’t +repeat any of it.” + +“Yet the lady with you heard distinctly!” + +“Women have quicker ears,” hastily. + +“Did you hear anything said about what might be done if Lord Levallion +died?” + +“Yes,” said Scarsdale slowly. “But a man in love is no more accountable +than one in drink.” + +“Did you hear Lady Levallion’s answer?” + +“No! She whispered something, if it were she.” + +“Was there any one else in the conservatory, to your knowledge?” + +“There was some one behind us. I don’t know who it was.” + +“Was it Lord Levallion?” + +“I couldn’t say,” sensibly, “I certainly did not either see him or hear +him speak. I knew there was some one, but it might have been two people +for all I know. Levallion was in the picture-gallery with the others +when I got back. They were just going down to supper.” + +“Was Lady Levallion there?” + +“No! She was standing just inside the dining-room door when we went +down to supper. She was alone.” + +“Is that all you can recall of the evening?” + +“I think so. There was nothing to stamp it on my mind. Sir Thomas +Annesley’s dog ate some soup and was sick,” insolently. “I saw that at +supper.” + +“Who gave him the soup?” + +“Levallion. No one else took any,” slowly, struck for the first time +with the thought that there might have been a reason for Mr. Jacobs’ +indisposition. + +“Did you, from that evening, see any cause to take an interest in the +movements of Lady Levallion and Captain Gordon?” + +“I suppose we all laughed a little at Levallion letting them flirt +under his nose. But they scarcely spoke to each other in public +afterward.” + +“In that case, then, it was common talk that he overheard them in the +greenhouse?” + +“People talk of anything in the country.” + +But his half-truths had done more harm than good, except to get him +out of any further connection with the distasteful business. A juror +whispered something to the coroner; and Sir Thomas Annesley was called. + +The boy’s brown face was thin and haggard. He had no thought of +where suspicion might go, but he had an honest misery in him because +Levallion lay dead upstairs. There was a moment’s diversion as Mr. +Jacobs, who came in with him, growled and bristled so fiercely that he +had to be removed. + +“It’s Carrousel! The dog hates him,” said Sir Thomas angrily, as some +one said something about a “vicious brute.” “The dog is as kind as +milk.” + +“Why does he hate unoffending people, then?” inquired the coroner, who +detested dogs. + +“Oh! Carrousel was always hanging round where Levallion and my sister +could see him, and I suppose Jacobs knew they didn’t like it. I don’t +know any other reason.” + +Monsieur Carrousel looked unjustly injured. + +“Pardon, messieurs!” he cried, “but it never occurred to me until +milord said so, that it was forbidden for me to take the air on his +estate.” + +“You kept on taking it, all the same,” said Tommy angrily. “I believe +it was you poisoned my dog, too!” + +The coroner hushed him sharply. + +“What do you mean about your dog being poisoned?” + +“I mean Levallion did not eat his soup one night at supper and gave it +to Jacobs,” grimly. “The dog was sick, and I worked over him all night. +The vet. said it was prussic acid, and I thought he might have eaten +meat poisoned for poachers’ dogs, but I don’t think so now. I think it +was the soup that Levallion didn’t taste.” + +Carrousel turned livid with fury. + +“It was not poisoned in my kitchen, then!” he shouted. “Ask who was in +the dining-room before the other guests, first!” + +“Another word and you leave the room,” said Aston quietly. “Sir Thomas, +are you convinced that poisoned soup was meant for Lord Levallion?” + +“Since he was poisoned last night, I am,” grimly. “It was a +twenty-to-one chance against his giving it to my dog. Levallion had +soup every night.” + +“Who do you think poisoned it?” bluntly. + +“I don’t know. But I do know that there was a strange woman hanging +round outside the house that night, for Levallion and I both saw her. +He was angry because she was spying in the greenhouse, and he went +there to try and pounce on her. I think he knew who she was.” + +“Do you mean she could have got in and put poison in Lord Levallion’s +soup? It sounds impossible.” + +“Not when you know that they were having a sort of masquerade in the +house!” valiantly. “All the women were wearing black masks and had +their heads tied up in black rags. Any one might have walked in, for +the doors were all open, and all the plates of soup were standing ready +on the dining-table because we kept supper waiting. Any one who’d +looked in the window enough to know where Levallion sat could have +easily doctored his soup.” + +“But the servants would hardly have let them?” incredulously. + +The butler asked permission to speak, a ray of hope in his face. + +“If you please, your honor, Sir Thomas is right,” he said. “After +placing the soup on the table I went to announce supper, and sent +the other men off to attend to various things, so that, when I got +back five minutes after, the room was empty. I didn’t wonder his +lordship did not eat his soup, for it was cold and uninviting-looking. +Her ladyship waited quite another five minutes for the party at the +dining-room door.” + +“Her ladyship--Lady Levallion--was in the dining-room when you got +back?” evenly. + +“No, sir! but outside the door,” respectfully. + +But for one long instant Sir Thomas Annesley stood speechless with rage +and surprised horror. Would they dare to think it was Ravenel who had +done it? + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII. + +“I SAW--NO ONE!” + + +“No one dares to insinuate,” he broke out the second he got his breath, +“that----” + +“No,” said the coroner quietly. “Be good enough, Sir Thomas, to tell +just what you saw of this woman outside. Did you observe her on that +occasion only?” + +“I saw her the next night. I followed her from the garden into the +park. She was sitting on a rock in the moonlight, drinking champagne +with a man. I couldn’t see her face, nor his; but she was wearing an +evening cloak and I thought she was a lady. My dog went for the man, +but he missed him----” He stopped something on the end of his tongue, +as if he remembered there was no need to tell more than he was asked. + +“Your dog appears to be ubiquitous!” dryly. “Did you know the man?” + +The room was breathless with interest. Every soul in it, except +Carrousel, leaned forward; but the question had apparently small +interest for the cook. + +“The man,” said Sir Thomas unwillingly, “was, to the best of my belief, +Captain Gordon, though I thought him in bed at the castle. Levallion +said he’d gone to bed, as he was leaving early in the morning.” + +And if he had known the deadly gist of his evidence taken with Lady +Gwendolen’s, he would have perjured himself ten times over. + +“The woman was no one of the house-party? You are sure?” searchingly. + +“She was a stranger, as far as I could tell. All the other women were +in the drawing-room but my sister, and she and Levallion went in there +while I was hanging out of the hall window watching the woman in the +garden.” + +“You are sure it was Captain Gordon in the wood?” + +“I would be, but for one thing. My dog was furious when he saw him, and +he was fond of Gordon. I thought afterward perhaps it was some one +stouter than Gordon, but dressed like him.” + +“How was he dressed?” + +“In a Norfolk jacket and loose knickerbockers. I saw them against the +moonlight.” + +“You say Lord Levallion seemed to know who the woman was?” + +Tommy nodded. + +“I’m sure he did! He said afterward that it must have been a +kitchen-maid; but maids don’t wear trains and long evening cloaks. +I meant to tell him I’d seen her again, but when I went to his +dressing-room last night before dinner he wouldn’t talk. And I drank +some of that liqueur that he died of four hours afterward. It was all +right then!” + +The coroner nodded, knowing it already. + +“I won’t trouble you any more,” he said. “Except to ask you if you +would know that mysterious woman if you saw her again?” + +Even Carrousel waited for the answer. + +“I don’t know,” reluctantly. “I’d know her if she wore those clothes, +but I never saw her face. Only I’m sure that she had something to do +with the thing.” + +“You were not in the house at the death of your brother-in-law, I +think?” + +“I ran out the back way after Jacobs. I thought he was after the cook, +and I tore up-stairs and then down and outside till I found Jacobs, +trying to get back into the house again. Then I sent for you, as soon +as I found out what had happened.” + +Tommy moved to Houghton’s side as one after one the house-party came +in, and had, except Lord Chayter, to acknowledge that they had all +heard and talked of Lady Levallion’s flirtation with her husband’s +cousin. Houghton laid a quick hand on his shoulder, for the boy was +livid with fury and outraged pride. Each guest in Levallion’s house had +given his or her version of his wife’s flirtation with Adrian Gordon, +come by either from sight or hearsay; of Levallion’s knowledge of it; +of his quarrel with his wife half an hour before he died. + +“My God!” whispered Tommy, half-choked. “Do they mean----” + +“Hush! Wait!” said Houghton, in his ear. “There is only Chayter left.” + +And Lord Chayter, to Tommy’s surprise, had other things to say. To +his knowledge, and Lady Levallion’s, some one had been in the habit +of spying round the house after dark. He had twice seen a face at the +dining-room window, and had once pointed it out to Lady Levallion. +Had also told Lord Levallion, who said it was nonsense. But Lord +Chayter was of the opinion that Levallion had not meant what he said. +“There were plenty of people, men and--well, more especially women, if +you like! who had a grudge against Levallion.” (With which the jury +agreed.) “In my opinion that loiterer was probably one of them,” ended +Lord Chayter abruptly. “That’s what it seems to me.” + +And Sir Thomas could have hugged the ugly little man. Aston called the +last witness. + +The room was packed by this time. Every one in the house but the +boot-boy being in it, and no one had remembered him. Alone, through the +silent, deserted house, Lady Levallion came to the shut door of the +library, and, as if she saw none of the familiar faces, walked into the +hot, close room. + +She wore the coarse, blue serge Houghton had seen her in at dawn. +Levallion had hated black. She had not a black gown to wear, and did +not care. White as wax she took the oath, and, stony-eyed, faced the +coroner. But she had to try three times before she could answer the +first question. + +“Yes,” she said huskily, “it was I who went to my husband’s room for +that bottle of liqueur.” + +“Before that,” said the coroner unexpectedly, “what had you been doing?” + +“I was down in the hall talking up to him. I wanted to go out and +he would not let me. He was annoyed with me because of something he +imagined, till I told him why I wanted to go out.” + +“Why was it?” + +“A woman whom I had known was dying. She sent for me. I showed +Levallion her letter, and he said we would both go after the others had +gone to bed.” + +“He was not annoyed, then?” + +“Oh, no!” lifelessly. + +“Why had he thought you wished to go out?” + +“I dropped a card with some writing on it. Levallion thought it +referred to last night, whereas it was one I never got, and four months +old.” + +“How did it reach you, then?” + +“My stepmother’s maid had it. It was she who was dying and wanted to +explain something to me that I knew already.” + +“What--exactly?” + +“I don’t think I need say. It concerned,” she twisted her hands hard +together, “no one but me and Levallion,” she finished unexpectedly. + +“Was it the card, a four-months’-old card, that was taking you out?” + +“No. The woman who sent it to me was dying, and wrote me two letters +begging me to come to her that night and let her tell me something +before it was too late. She had behaved badly to me. She was sorry.” + +“And Lord Levallion would not allow it?” + +“On the contrary, he was going to take me, but----” she could not +finish. With a sharp breath, an uncontrollable passion, she cried +out: “Oh! Doctor Aston, I think, now that I’ve had time to think, +that perhaps the woman knew something, knew some one meant to poison +Levallion. That it was that which made her send for me. And I didn’t +go. I can’t forgive myself that I didn’t go!” + +“Where are her letters?” + +“I can’t”--Carrousel looked really affected--“I can’t find them. I +thought Levallion had them. Weren’t they in his pocket?” + +“No. They have never been heard of till now. But I can easily send for +the woman.” + +“She died last night,” said Lady Levallion slowly. “Some one must have +her letters. Some one might have picked them up when--he fell.” The +last two words seemed to choke her. + +But not a soul in Levallion Castle had seen those letters. + +“Lord Levallion was annoyed about a card?” the coroner barked back +obstinately. + +“A card I never got, about something that was over long ago,” bravely. +“That card referred to last May. Some one had told Levallion it was +last night. I told him the truth--and he believed me. Whatever that +card had to do with me once, it was not now.” + +“Then you were on good terms with Lord Levallion when he sent you for +that liqueur?” + +“On better terms than ever in my life,” hardly able to answer. + +“Describe what you did when you left the drawing-room.” + +“I went straight to Levallion’s dressing-room. I took the bottle off a +shelf and I thought it felt warm in my hands, like a ring some one has +been wearing. And then my brother’s dog, who was with me, barked and +startled me. I nearly dropped the bottle. I wish I had!” + +“What did he bark at?” + +Lady Levallion swayed where she stood. + +“I don’t know,” she muttered. “I--he flew at the door and banged it as +he jumped against it. I--I--thought”--Carrousel put a hand to his mouth +as if to hide his pity for his mistress--“I thought it must be a cat +in the hall. I caught Jacobs by the collar and he got away from me and +tore back through my rooms and out into the hall.” + +Some one who had no business there, since he had not been called as a +witness, had come softly in behind her, but where he stood could see +her face plainly in a mirror. The face he knew every line and curve of, +just as he knew every tone of Ravenel Levallion’s voice. Something in +both of them caught at his heart. + +“Did you see the cat?” + +“I saw no one, nothing,” said Lady Levallion deliberately. She looked +round the crowded room as though she were hunted, looked at the Bible +she had kissed but now. Her voice came suddenly to the waiting-room, +clear, unfaltering as a bugle. “I saw absolutely no one. No one!” + +And Adrian Gordon, whom no one had noticed come in, knew she lied. + +“What did you do then?” + +“I ran back to the drawing-room. I was frightened to be there alone. +The dog had startled me. I never looked at the bottle, but when +Levallion said it smelled of almonds”--and Heaven knew where she got +her self-control to speak of it quietly--“I tried to stop his drinking +it. I remembered it was almond soup that had poisoned my brother’s dog.” + +Carrousel started furiously and then sat still. Lady Levallion might +say what she liked. + +“Where were you the night the dog was poisoned?” + +“At supper. But I never thought of its being the soup till it flashed +over me when Levallion spoke of the liqueur smelling of almonds. I +suppose it made me think of prussic acid.” + +If she had sobbed, fainted, been interestingly weak, the jury might +not have sat so stolid. Each word she said was somehow setting them +to think it was a desperate woman who stood so quiet and yet so bold +before them. + +“Before supper?” said the coroner slowly. + +“I had been in the conservatory with Captain Gordon. He left me at +the dining-room door; he was not well and went to bed. I went into +the dining-room”--Houghton could have screamed at her to hold her +tongue--“and it was empty. I stood at the door and waited for the +others.” + +“Why?” + +“I don’t know.” + +“You were alone in there, and alone in the dressing-room?” said the +coroner, after what seemed a year. + +“Yes,” listlessly. And then the faces of the jury seemed suddenly to +leap into her eyes; live men, not automatons. She started, as if to +back away from the dreadful thing that was written in those faces. But +she stood dumb before them. + +And every man of them thought it was the dumbness, the confession of +guilt. + +The coroner held out a rag of tweed toward her. + +“Did you ever see a suit of clothes of this stuff?” he said. “Had Lord +Levallion one?” + +There was that desperate terror in her eyes now that Houghton knew. She +looked from the jury to the coroner and back again. + +“I don’t think he had,” she gasped. “I would not know.” + +“Did you ever see a suit like them?” + +“I--never--saw--one,” said Ravenel Levallion, white-lipped. + +Sir Thomas Annesley caught Houghton’s hand and pointed to Adrian +Gordon, dressed in that very tweed, thread for thread; and standing as +if he were turned to stone. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX. + +“WILFUL MURDER.” + + +Sickened, helpless, Adrian Gordon had stood, indeed, for the last five +minutes, as a man who comes on some awful bit of cruelty he cannot +stop. Ravenel’s hunted face, her desperate eyes, her answers about +seeing no one--that instinct told him was a lie--paralyzed him with +sick astonishment. + +They were baiting her like a helpless beast, justly enough if they were +right. But every drop of his blood knew they were wrong. And she was +not defending herself, was not telling all she knew; for he knew what +that veiled look in her eyes meant. He had seen it before, when her +thoughts were one thing and her words another. + +“Think, Lady Levallion,” said the coroner earnestly, “for even if you +saw no one in Lord Levallion’s dressing-room, some one might have been +there! This rag of tweed was caught in the door, in the box of the +door-latch.” + +“I don’t know it,” was all she said. “I didn’t see any one.” + +Something like a flash of lightning went through Adrian Gordon’s brain. +She knew it well enough, since it was a suit he had worn that May that +was dead and gone--not that very suit he was wearing. She had seen some +one, and was lying because she knew the clothes they wore. He strode +into the middle of the room, tall, strong, blackly angry. + +“Be good enough to put me on the stand,” he cried roughly, for she +should lie no more for so inconceivable a suspicion; to defend a man +who had been miles away. “And look at my clothes, if you want to know +where that rag came from!” + +Lady Levallion caught her breath, stared at him with narrowed eyes, +and, without a word, slipped like water to the floor. But he never even +seemed to see, never stirred, as Houghton came quickly forward and +took her to a sofa. + +Gordon took the tweed scrap and held it against his coat. + +“You see!” he said contemptuously. “Now, perhaps you will think I +poisoned my cousin! Fortunately, I was miles away that night, and with +half a dozen other men, who can tell you so.” + +“Then I hardly see----” began the coroner. + +“I will help you,” and every soul in the room saw the sudden likeness +to the dead Levallion as he spoke. “I was in London, but my clothes +weren’t. I had two suits exactly alike. I wore one of them down here +the day I was taken ill. They cut the coat off me, and when I got +better I sent up to town for the other coat, and my man sent me the +whole suit. I put it on and forgot about the other, with the cut coat. +And I’ve never seen it from that day to this. But”--and he tapped the +rag of tweed--“that came out of it. And that I can swear, for I spilt +something on it, and you can see the edge of the stain on this. It was +some one, dressed in my clothes, who caught their knickerbockers in +Levallion’s door, whether Lady Levallion saw them or not.” He laughed +coldly, as he saw that in spite of what he said the jury’s eyes were +glued to the knickerbockers he had on. “Some one stole those clothes, +perhaps you can tell me who!” he cried. “Till you find out that, it +might be as well to accuse no one.” + +Houghton, bending over Lady Levallion in a distant corner, drew his +breath. He understood something now of that terror that had been on her. + +“I wish to God she’d told me, instead of lying!” he thought, as he saw +her coming to. “They won’t believe one word he says now; for he can’t +prove it.” + +Nor could he. Not a servant in the house had known anything about his +clothes. He had taken the second suit out of his box himself, and +shoved the spoiled suit in there; from whence, on going back to town, +he found it had vanished. The story was lame. + +The coroner asked him a hundred questions that might have made any +woman flinch to hear, since her name came in each one. But Ravenel, +leaning sick and faint on Tommy’s shoulder, never winced. All that +bygone story of the card Adrian Gordon told. His face was set like +flint as he spoke. + +“I don’t ask other men’s wives to meet me after dark,” he ended +contemptuously. “If the letters from that woman that prove it are lost, +there has been culpable negligence somewhere.” + +When told Sir Thomas Annesley had seen him at night with a strange +woman in black, he looked round the room quietly, as if to see which +of the servants was like him in figure. But none was as tall, except +Carrousel, who was stouter, and had a beard. + +“Sir Thomas was mistaken,” he said slowly. “But I do not doubt he saw +some one in my clothes. I was in my room. I know no woman with whom I +would go out.” + +“To whose knowledge were you in your room?” + +“Levallion’s. He came and sat with me.” + +“Lord Levallion’s!” said Aston slowly, and deadly disbelief in a man +who could only call a dead witness crept into each juror’s soul. + +Gordon shrugged his shoulder. + +“Have you all gone mad?” he said coldly. “If I can’t prove I was in my +room when Sir Thomas thought he saw me, I can prove I was in town last +night. Just call my servant in, will you?” + +And his man routed the jury, horse and foot. Captain Gordon had been +in his own rooms, playing cards with some other gentlemen, with whom +he had dined at the club. The man gave half a dozen names of men whose +word would be taken on their oath, or not. Carrousel sat listening, +with a curious scorn. It was all so different from his ideas of +justice; so short-sighted, so biased. He even smiled a little at the +foolish tale of those two suits of clothes, till Captain Gordon said +quietly that his tailor’s book could settle that question. + +His sternness, his contempt for stupidity and foregone conclusions had +made the jury almost forget he had not been able to prove he was not +the man who had drunk champagne in the wood. But, as he stepped down, +the coroner recalled Lady Levallion; and she came, a living, breathing +woman now, instead of one of stone. Relief was in her eyes, in her very +hands, as they hung at her sides. But Houghton was looking like a man +distraught at the coroner’s face. + +“You swear that you had no part nor lot in the poisoning of your +husband; that you saw no one in the dressing-room who could have put +poison into that bottle of liqueur, or changed it?” + +“Yes,” she said quietly. “I swear I had no hand in it. That I tried, +even at the last minute, to save him.” + +“Then,” said Doctor Aston slowly, “how did you come by these? A +housemaid found them this morning behind your window-curtains, in your +bedroom.” + +He held out to her a bottle of Eau de Vie Magique, half-full, with a +rough seam running down each side of the bottle; a tiny flask full of +clear, faintly green liquid, that, as he uncorked it, smelled of bitter +almonds in the hot room. + +Lacy started forward. + +“That’s my lord’s bottle!” he cried. “I thought the other was not.” + +“Exactly,” said the coroner. “And this is distilled laurel-water and +deadly poison. I analyzed it and gave some to a cat, which died in +three minutes, with every symptom of prussic-acid poisoning. Gentlemen +of the jury, we have heard all the evidence.” + +“You shall hear me!” Lady Levallion’s face was on fire. “What do I +know about those bottles?--nothing but that they were put in my room +by some one. Find out who did that”--for, with that deadly conviction +gone from her mind, she could speak out, since that disappearing shadow +in Levallion’s dressing-room--a shadow that had been substance enough +to bang the door in Mr. Jacobs’ face, and run--had not been Adrian +Gordon--“and you may find out who murdered Levallion. It was not I, for +I would have died for him.” + +Every man of the jury turned to look at her, but not one of them spoke. +To their stolid, conventional minds it seemed clear enough that she +and Gordon had had reason to wish Levallion out of the way, that the +poisoning was her work, an unhappy, probably rejected, girl, who had +been deceived into a marriage with a callous, heartless rake; that the +story of the second suit of clothes was a trumped-up fiction of her old +lover’s. + +To the childish tale of the woman who had been seen looking in the +windows they paid no attention. Plenty of people would have been glad +to gape at the quality. One by one they filed out into the next room, +some pitying even while they judged; others, a wife who could kill her +husband like a dog, needed nothing but justice! + +Lord Chayter moved to Lady Levallion’s side. + +“My dear child,” he said nervously, “no one believes you did it,” but +he knew he lied. + +She could not answer. She looked at the women who had eaten her bread, +and not one of them met her eyes; looked at Tommy, at Houghton, at +every soul but Adrian Gordon, who stood apart in futile anger against +every one, himself included. + +“If it had not been for my alibi they would have thought I did it,” he +thought. “And now, because some one is too clever for them, they’re +putting it on her. On Nel!” the horror of it made him quiver from head +to foot. “And I swore myself clear like a fool! No wonder she won’t +look at me. I’d have been hanged before I did it, if I’d known! I wish +to God I’d got here at first,” and he turned his back flatly on a man +who was bold enough to come forward and greet him as Lord Levallion. + +“Tommy,” said Houghton sharply, “take your sister away!” He moved to +Doctor Aston and laid a hand on his sleeve. + +“Permit me to congratulate you on your methods of conducting an +inquest,” he said, and his low voice was furious. “You are responsible +for a damnably iniquitous thing if they commit her to trial. Where was +your housemaid who gave that fool’s evidence, and when did she give it? +Not here, for I was your first witness.” + +“The second,” said Aston uncomfortably, knowing perfectly well that +to begin an inquiry with evidence like that was simply making all +subsequent testimony worthless, in nine cases out of ten. “The girl was +in the room when you entered it. There she is now!” + +Houghton followed his eyes, and saw a pale, fat-faced girl turning to +follow her fellow servants from the room. + +“Find the man who that anemic, hysterical fool is in love with before +you go far on her evidence!” he observed contemptuously. “Supposing it +true, which I don’t, you’d no right to begin the inquest with a biasing +fact like that. An astute man like you should know that much.” + +“I had a right to conduct my inquest as I pleased!” hotly. “If you must +know, the girl was too terrified to speak before the other servants. +She came to me in floods of tears. I believe it cost her honest pain to +come at all.” + +“Honest!” returned Houghton, as cold as the other was hot. “Thanks +to you and her----” He turned away without finishing. Because he was +convinced, without any reason except a dogged belief in Levallion’s +wife, that she was innocent, gave him no hope of upsetting the opposite +conviction of a pigheaded man like Aston. + +He stood in silent, dogged endurance till, after an interminable time +of waiting, the jury filed in again. But the end of the chairman’s +speech made his heart turn over. + +“Two attempts having been made to poison Lord Levallion, both of which +were in the power of one person only, your jury are compelled to find a +verdict of wilful murder against Lady Levallion.” + +Houghton was poor; the wives and children of each juryman were his +patients; but he would not have cared if they had been kings and queens. + +“Permit me to congratulate you on a crassly incapable jury,” he said to +the coroner. “And you, gentlemen, on a piece of hasty iniquity that I +pray you may never forget till your dying day.” + +But his face was gray with despair as he went out before they could +answer him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + +A CLOUD OF BLOOD. + + +“Who’s to tell her?” Sir Thomas Annesley, Mr. Jacobs at his heels, came +flying into Levallion’s own den, where something told him Houghton +would be. But there was another man beside Houghton, and the boy drew +back at the sight of him, just as the man started forward. + +“Why are you here? Haven’t you done mischief enough?” The young face +was dreadful with its pinched nostrils and red eyes. “If you’d never +come here, she’d never have come to this!” + +“It’s true enough,” said Adrian Gordon grimly, as Houghton would have +hushed the lad. “But, before God, Tommy, I believe my being here had +nothing to do with it! I think you’ve got to look deeper than that for +Levallion’s death, and outside! It seems to me that my only share in +the business is to have made your sister a convenient scapegoat. And +God knows that’s black enough.” + +Tommy Annesley hid his face in his hands, and the tears oozed through +his fingers. + +“Don’t, lad, don’t!” said Houghton pitifully. “A coroner’s inquest +means very little. Please God, we’ll find out who did it, long before +the trial.” + +“That’s just it,” hoarsely. “The trial! She’s got to stand up there +innocent, and have the--every one”--desperately--“think her guilty. +Can’t you see, Houghton, that every soul in the house has cleared +themselves but her?” + +“Every soul outside hasn’t, though,” Gordon said slowly. “And any jury +but a set of prejudiced fools would have seen it.” He gently pushed +away Jacobs, who was slobbering at his knee. + +“Do you mean you know any one who was likely to have done it--who hated +Levallion?” said Houghton bluntly. + +“There were plenty,” answered Gordon, as Lacy had before him. “Who +knows who that woman was who was hanging about? Or the man Tommy +thought was I? And what became of those letters Lady Levallion thought +were in Levallion’s pocket? They’re a small thing, perhaps, but suppose +I hadn’t come down? Who was going to know that card of mine asking her +to meet me wasn’t written that very morning? Whoever took those letters +meant it to seem so,” emphatically. + +“No one could have. Levallion--the body”--stammering--“was never left +alone till the coroner came.” + +“It was!” Tommy lifted his tear-stained face. “Didn’t you know? When +the coroner came there wasn’t a soul in the room. You’d gone to +Ravenel, the others had cleared off to the smoking-room. It was I took +Aston in there, and the room was empty. Any one in the house might have +gone in there. The hall was full of people, but there are three other +doors to the drawing-room.” + +“And any one out of it,” Gordon added obstinately. “Look here, Tommy, +how could you think it was I Jacobs flew at that night in the wood? See +him!” for Jacobs had lain down with his head on the speaker’s boot. + +“It was the Norfolk jacket and the knickerbockers and the height,” +wretchedly. “The other men were in the drawing-room--none of the +servants were so tall--except Carrousel--and he has a beard! This man +had only a mustache. I saw the line of his chin when he stood up and +yelled.” + +“As I should have been likely to yell on account of Jacobs!” +scornfully. “Why on earth didn’t you tell some one what you saw, Tommy?” + +“I’d have only said it was you! I did try to tell Levallion, but the +second I spoke about the woman he shut me up. Lacy was there; Levallion +never talked before servants. Oh!” he broke off wildly, “what’s the +good of talking? Some one must go and tell Ravenel. Will they take +her--to jail--till the assizes?” A hard sob broke his words. + +“I don’t know,” Houghton muttered. “Perhaps bail”--but he knew quite +well there was no bail for murder. He got up, for the boy was right. +Some one must tell Lady Levallion. + +“Damn that housemaid!” he broke out fiercely, standing with his hand on +the door. + +“Look here,” said Gordon quickly, “wait a moment. Don’t say anything +like that outside; don’t say a word to frighten any of the servants.” + +“Why?” Houghton looked at him without too much favor. He had certainly +had nothing to do with the crime, but his stay in the house had every +day added one to the letters that spelled “murderess” after Lady +Levallion’s name. + +“Because they’ve all given their evidence; they’re quite comfortable +about none of them being implicated. They’ll talk among themselves and +compare notes, and they may find out something. I sha’n’t allow one of +them to leave.” + +Houghton realized suddenly that it was the new Lord Levallion who stood +before him. + +“I forgot,” he said involuntarily, “you are master here now.” + +“And I’d rather be a one-armed sandwich-man!” returned Adrian +Gordon, with a bitter glance at the injured arm that had kept him in +Levallion’s house. And the memory of that day brought back something; +the unknown woman who had come to see if he were dead. There was only +one woman in the world who could hope, however falsely, to gain by his +dying. + +“Hester Murray!” he thought sharply. “But of all women on earth she +would be the least likely to be here. Levallion wouldn’t have had it.” +And yet the thought clung obstinately. + +“I’ll find out,” he said aloud, and Tommy looked up where he sat wan +and exhausted. + +“What?” he demanded. “I don’t see how any one can find out anything. We +know all anybody knows.” + +“We know all some one chooses us to know,” hardly. “We’re not beaten +yet. Try and remember what that woman looked like whom Levallion told +you was a kitchen-maid.” + +“How do I know?” wretchedly. “I only saw her twice; both times it was +dark. She had a cloak on with a hood, and was holding up a train. She +may live right under our noses.” + +“All the same, she’s our only chance.” + +He shivered, and stirred the fire. For if he were wrong and that +cloaked woman not Hester Murray, the chance was small. Beat his brains +as he would, he could think of no one else who might profit by the +death of Lord Levallion. + +The clock struck six, and, like a blow, the sound struck on his heart, +making him forget everything but the girl up-stairs. Houghton must be +with her now; must be telling her what the jury had said. Houghton, an +absolute stranger--while the man who should have been her husband dared +not go near her; the man who should have sheltered her from all the +world could do nothing but sit helpless while some one else spoke the +very bitterest shame on earth in her ears. + +“Nel, my Nel!” And if Adrian Gordon was silent, his spirits groaned +within him. + +Sylvia Annesley and her schemes had come between them once; then +Levallion; and now, to the eyes of the world, a bar of blood they could +not pass. + +“Blood between us; love, my love!” the man said silently, behind his +shut teeth. “Not while I’m alive or there’s a God above us. Somehow, +somewhere, I mean to find the truth that’s going to set you clear--and +clean! If I dare not go to you I can work for you; and if I can’t +comfort you”--unconsciously he raised his right hand as some men do +when they take an oath--“I’ll save you, if I have to take you out of +Newgate!” + +He raised his eyes and saw Houghton had come back. + +“Well?” he said thickly. + +“Very ill.” Houghton cast himself into a chair as if he could do no +more. “She knew! That fool of a housemaid ran up screaming and told +her, begging her to forgive her--if they hanged her! The French maid +took the crazy fool by the ears and put her out. But----” + +He shrugged his shoulders helplessly. + +“What’s she doing--Ravenel?” Tommy was on his feet, pale as Levallion +up-stairs. + +“Nothing! Just sitting there like death. Go to her and see if you can +make her cry. I couldn’t make her even seem to hear me.” + +As the door closed behind the boy, Houghton turned to Adrian. + +“It was to say good-by I sent him,” he said drearily. “The warrant has +come to arrest her.” + +“She sha’n’t go!” cried Gordon blackly; but he knew he was talking +nonsense. + +“There’s no choice! To-morrow you may--if you move heaven and earth and +the stars in their course”--bitterly--“be able to bail her out again.” + +He turned to the window because there were tears in his eyes, and so +did not see that every trace of humanity had been wiped out of Adrian +Gordon’s countenance, as in a voice the like of which Doctor Houghton +had never heard, he called down the wrath of God on Levallion’s secret +murderer. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + +A BAD MOVE. + + +Two days afterward the great gates of Levallion Castle were opened wide +to let out the funeral of the man who had been poisoned in his own +house. Behind the hearse, before the long rows of country neighbors +who came because they must and the flocking poor who came because the +dead man had been good to them, walked the new Lord Levallion as chief +mourner--and people stared as they saw Sir Thomas Annesley walking at +his side. Sir Thomas, whose sister was a murderess, and lying in jail +awaiting her committal for trial at the assizes. + +“I wonder the boy can hold up,” said Lord Chayter to his companion. “I +honestly believe she didn’t do it, though!” But when asked who did, he +was silent. + +Long and speechlessly the new Lord Levallion stood by his cousin’s +grave. If there were men who would have spoken to him they dared not do +it, so hard and hostile was his face. He turned without seeming to see +his neighbors or the parson at his elbow; and to the surprise of every +one drove off in the opposite direction from Levallion Castle. + +He was not needed there, Levallion’s lawyer was in charge, and would +remain so till it pleased Adrian Gordon to come back. There was no +will to read, nothing to keep the heir from taking up his immediate +residence. Except that his wife’s settlements and jointure were secured +to her. Lord Levallion had arranged nothing. That consolation legacy to +Adrian had never been made--or needed. + +But all that was the last thing in Adrian’s head as he drove to the +station from that ghastliest thing on earth, the funeral of a murdered +man. + +In the last two days he had ransacked the village, but of a Mrs. Murray +no one had ever heard. The landlord of the raw new bungalows had gone +away; the caretaker gave a description of Miss Brown, the defaulting +tenant, which did not tally in any respect with Hester Murray, except +that Miss Brown had yellow hair. + +Bad as Hester might be, he had never known her to drink; and the +village girl who had waited on the tenant of the bungalow swore that +two days out of three her mistress would drink herself into a heavy +sleep. She said, also, that Miss Brown never left the house except to +go into the garden; that at night, from her cottage near-by--for she +had never slept in the house--she had always seen the drawing-room lit +up till all hours. And it was clear her story was true, for none of the +village people had ever laid eyes on the levanting tenant during all +the three months she had lived in the bungalow. + +“That disposes of Hester,” Adrian said to himself. “She could never +have lived cooped up like that. She’d have scoured the country for +exercise.” + +Levallion’s lawyer, too, poohpoohed the idea, as he furnished Mrs. +Murray’s present address in London. + +“She could not have been here, or his lordship would have mentioned it +in his instructions to me. I was to pay quarterly to her account in the +Starr Street branch of Lloyd’s Bank, five hundred a year, so long as +she observed his lordship’s conditions of never going within a hundred +miles of any of his country houses, or approaching him or his wife in +any way, personally or by letters. I received those instructions one +morning, and the next had a letter from Mrs. Murray herself, from a +London address and posted in London. I think you may set aside all +thought of her having been down here. Lord Levallion would have made no +terms with her in that case, I am convinced. Three days afterward she +drew her money and I made it my business to ascertain her whereabouts. +She and her boy were at the address she had written from--Starr Street, +Paddington.” + +And to Starr Street Adrian was going, in hopes that if Hester Murray +and the woman Tommy had seen were one and the same, he could terrify it +out of her. For he owed her a long score. + +It was pouring rain and pitch-dark when he found her number in +the shabby street, a strange dwelling for a woman who had had the +best house in Eaton Place. If he had any thought that she would +not see him, he was mistaken; for he had barely entered the sordid +lodging-house sitting-room when she came in, small, pretty, dainty as +usual, but with something so unaccustomed in her dress that he started. + +“Adrian!” she said prettily. “This is kind of you,” and she pretended +not to see that he made no motion to take her outstretched hand. She +sat down, not sure what had brought him, his own business or another’s. +In spite of herself, her heart thumped. + +“I didn’t come to be kind,” he said coolly. “But what’s the matter with +you? Is Murray dead?” For she was dressed in new widow’s mourning, +incongruously expensive for 15 Starr Street. + +“No,” she answered quietly. “Levallion! And I--loved him.” + +Some emotion she could not control convulsed her face. + +“Your truthfulness with him showed it!” brutally. “But I fail to see +why you wear widow’s weeds.” + +“Because, in my own eyes, I am his widow,” she said. “You know that! +Have you come here to insult me when I am heart-broken--or why?” + +And to his astounding eyes there were the ravages of fearful grief in +her face. But he was in no mood for pity. + +“How dared you tell Lady Levallion, before her marriage,” he said--and +it was not what she had expected--“that ‘Mrs. Gordon’ was my wife?” + +“Because Sylvia Annesley made me, threatened me. And I did it in +ignorance. If I had known what I was doing, do you think I would have +stirred a finger to help Levallion to marry--to marry!” bitterly. + +“I suppose not. Well, it’s some small comfort to think you ruined +yourself! Were you trying to undo your work by passing yourself off as +Miss Brown, at Levallion?” + +But the sudden question never jarred her; she had been ready for it, +since, for all she knew, Levallion might have told him. Her wide eyes +opened innocently as she stared at him, and all the while it was +sweeping over her acute brain that he was speaking by guesswork. + +“I don’t know what you mean!” she cried, in her clear, high voice. “I +know nothing about any Miss Brown.” + +“Will you come down there and tell the caretaker you don’t?” quietly. + +“Yes,” said Hester Murray, just as quietly; “if you can make me +understand what you mean. Caretaker of what? and what has he to do with +me? I have not been at Levallion Castle for three years, and you know +it.” + +“You’ve been living within a mile of it all summer!” + +Pale as a sheet, she stood up in front of him. + +“Are you mad?” she said. “Would I--I that he discarded, shamed, ruined, +go near him and his new--wife? Whoever your Miss Brown was, she was not +I! I’ve been ill, poor, starving, nearly dying, till Levallion heard of +it and sent me money.” + +“Have you been here all summer, then?” unconvinced. + +He terrified her till she could scarcely answer him, and if she did not +satisfy him she was ruined. She shook her head. + +“I’ve been in France, Boulogne,” she said. “In a pension; you can write +and ask them.” And thanked Heaven she dared to play the desperate card, +though only yesterday she had loathed the means that put it into her +hand. + +“Day before yesterday--the last few days?” doggedly. + +“I’ve been here. Oh, Adrian! Why are you asking me such questions? If I +had been at Levallion, could I have stayed away from--him?” + +Her low, broken voice, her puzzled misery, were perfect; and yet the +man disbelieved in her because he knew her to be a liar. + +“Do you expect me to believe it was not you who lived at Levallion, +in that bungalow behind the village, all summer?” he said. “Because I +think it was.” + +“It was not I. And if it had been, it is none of your affair.” + +Her change of tone startled him. He did not realize he had made a +mistake when he said “think,” instead of “know.” + +“Here,” she said, and she wrote an address on a bit of paper. “Write to +Boulogne and ask. And now tell me what your Miss Brown has been doing +that you should think I was she?” + +Her face was haggard as she waited for the answer, yet something in it +warned Gordon that to answer her would be sheer madness. + +“Hester,” he said quietly, “has it occurred to you that it is I now who +am Lord Levallion? What do you expect me to do about your allowance?” + +Something cunning flashed into her eyes, and was gone. + +“I have not asked you for money,” she returned. “And--I don’t think I +will.” + +“If you want it, you had better stay here till you hear from me. Do you +understand?” + +“Unless you hear from me--first,” she said slowly. And he could not +understand the mixture of triumph and fright that was in her face. + +“What do you mean? You’re powerless,” he cried sharply. + +“Yes.” And for his life he did not know whether it was an assent or a +question. He caught back the threat that was on his lips and went out. + +In the street he called himself every sort of fool. As if it had been +written on the black, rainy sky, he saw that he had betrayed his +suspicion of her and she had cleared herself and then defied him. He +had accomplished absolutely nothing of what he meant to do. + +“She means mischief,” he said to the depths of his umbrella. “She’s +going to do something.” + +But just what Mrs. Murray had in her power never entered his brain. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + +A TRIVIAL INCIDENT. + + +Lady Levallion had been committed for trial at the assizes, and, as +Houghton had foreseen, was refused bail. + +In the county jail at Valehampton she must stay alone, comfortless--a +girl of nineteen; must be a month away from liberty and free air before +her trial. Of after that Houghton dared not think. He worked wonders +for her comfort, though, and instead of a cell she had a room, plain +and bare, but still a room. Yet it seemed prisonlike enough to Sir +Thomas Annesley, when at last he had leave to go and see her. + +Door after door was unlocked and locked behind him; corridor after +corridor sickened him with its cold smell of carbolic acid, till at +last he stood in the small room that was properly part of the jail +infirmary, and heard its iron door click behind his heels. + +“Tommy!” she cried, incredulous, rapturous, though she had known he was +coming. + +But the boy could not answer; could only cling to her, trying to choke +back his pitiful sobbing against her shoulder. For he had seen her +face, and knew a little, just a little, of what her days and nights +must have been. + +“Don’t cry, darling!” she whispered, as though it had been he and not +she that was in peril of life. “Oh, Tommy, I thought I would die for +want of you!” + +“They wouldn’t let me come.” He lifted his head. “Who’s that?” he cried +sharply. For a woman was sewing by the window. + +“The matron,” softly. “Did you think they’d let you see me alone?” + +The woman looked up. + +“Don’t mind me, sir!” she cried, her hard face very gentle. “I’ll not +heed anything you say.” + +For Houghton, by good luck, was the prison doctor, and she believed in +him as in the four Gospels. + +“She’s been very good to me,” Ravenel said gratefully, and the matron +smiled, but her eyes were wet. For, if Lady Levallion were innocent ten +times over, she could not prove it. And the matron’s only daughter who +died would have been just the age now of this girl, who presently would +be tried for murder. She moved to the farthest limit of the room as the +brother and sister sat down on the bed. + +“Are you well, Tommy?” Ravenel whispered. “You look so thin!” + +“Never mind me; I’m all right.” He grabbed at her hand. “I can only +stay half an hour. Tell me, can’t you think of anything I don’t know?” + +“Nothing,” deliberately. For once having perjured herself because +she had seen a flying glimpse of a man she thought was Adrian, there +was nothing to do but stick by it. If she had been certain he was in +London, she could have told the truth; but yet it would have helped her +very little in face of those two bottles. + +“You’ve seen your lawyer?” + +She nodded. There had been little enough in that clever man’s face to +reassure her. + +“Don’t fret,” she said slowly. “There are three weeks before I--my +trial.” + +“And so far we haven’t found out one thing,” he said, and hid his face +again. + +“I’ve thought of something, though it can’t help me,” she began, +smoothing the boy’s rough hair. “The Umbrella, Tommy! She didn’t send +for me to tell me about that old story of Sylvia. She sent for me to +warn me about Levallion. I feel it, and he did, too; else why did he +say, before he died: ‘We should have gone’?” + +“But the Umbrella’s dead. We’ll never know.” + +“No! But if she knew something, some one else may. It’s sure to come +out.” + +“But if it doesn’t?” he gasped. + +A dreadful shudder took her. To die, with a rope around her neck, in a +prison-yard! + +“Pray it will!” she cried. “Oh, Tommy, I know you’d help me if you +could! But if you can’t, pretend it’s all right. It’s the only thing +you can do for me. I--I’ve got to be brave!” + +The boy sat up, but he did not look at her. + +“Look here,” he said; “what do you think about Gordon?” + +“He didn’t do it!” quickly; for all her pains, joyfully. + +“No! I don’t mean that. But if he wants to help you, why doesn’t he +come back to Levallion Castle and watch those servants? He’s vanished, +clean gone. Went to London the day of the funeral, and nobody knows +where he is.” + +“He couldn’t help me,” loyally. “Those servants know no more than they +said.” But her heart sank in her. Was it possible that he did not care? +And yet it had not been so much for Adrian’s sake as for Levallion’s +that she had lied at the inquest. No one should be able to say that one +of the dead man’s own blood had murdered him because he had loved his +wife. + +“Perhaps not! But Gordon ought to be there,” gruffly. + +“Are you there?” she asked. + +“Where can I go?” miserably. “I’ve no money. If I had I couldn’t leave +you.” + +“Adrian will look after you.” She hesitated, for she had a dim idea +that if they hanged her the crown would take her jointure. + +“I wouldn’t take his money. It was all his!” bitterly. + +“It was all Sylvia.” For the first time she had color in her face. “Oh, +don’t hark back to it, Tommy! Levallion was kind to us; and some one +killed him for it.” + +The door swung back heavily. + +“Time’s up, sir,” said the warden. + +It did not seem five minutes, but it was nearer forty than thirty. + +“I’ll come,” said Sir Thomas Annesley, and he looked ten years older. +“Ravenel, I nearly forgot. The duchess wrote to me. She’s coming here, +to Valehampton, to be near you. She’ll come here as often as they’ll +let her.” + +“I’m glad,” simply. “But I think I only want you.” (And one other, +whose hand she would never touch again in life!) + +She sat down, tearless. One breath, of all the world she could have +hidden her face against; one strong shoulder would have known her +tears. But between Adrian Gordon and her was a deep gulf set: a gulf of +blood that cried aloud. + +But Tommy Annesley was blind with tears as he drove the long ten miles +between Valehampton and Levallion Castle. It was bitter work to stay +there eating Adrian’s bread; but he could not go away. + +“Perhaps the duchess will take me with her,” he thought, “till----” But +even to himself he could not finish. When the trial was over it was not +likely that Tommy Annesley would have overmuch care for what happened. +He would get away, he and Jacobs, from every soul who had known +him--would work, somehow, for his living. A lump rose in his throat as +he walked into the broad hall of Levallion Castle, all soft firelight +and welcome, and thought of its mistress sitting on her pallet bed in +Valehampton Jail. + +Tea was waiting, but he could not swallow it. He flew out into the +desolate, twilit garden, and rambled aimlessly, he hardly saw where. +Jacobs, for once, was not with him; all alone, his hands in his +pockets, his slow feet silent on the frozen grass, Sir Thomas walked +mechanically, racking his brain to no purpose over that mysterious man +and woman the detectives had been unable to trace. + +He might have racked his brain still harder if he had known the reason +of the silence that reigned concerning them. In Adrian’s theory +about the absconding tenant of the bungalow, no one believed at all. +Arlington’s man had been almost openly unbelieving about dragging a +strange woman into the case, and the prosecution merely smiled at the +idea of there being any mystery whatever, thanks to that hasty evidence +of Sir Thomas Annesley’s. It was all very well for him to believe he +had made a mistake; no one else did. In the eyes of the world, those +two people who drank champagne in a wood had been Captain Gordon +and Lady Levallion, since the only man who could have sworn to her +whereabouts was dead! + +“If I only could think of something!” the boy mused desperately, and +stopped short at a queer sound. + +He had wandered into the dark kitchen-garden, behind a row of deserted +potting sheds; and from them came a sound exactly like the beating of +carpets. It was no concern of Tommy’s, though the hour was a queer one, +and he was moving on when a pitiful moaning like a dog being beaten to +death made him jump. His thoughts flew to the absent Jacobs, and the +cook who had a grudge against him. + +Silent, with flying feet, Tommy ran to the back of the shed, full of +fury. But as he paused by the latticed, glassless window at the back of +it, he knew it was no dog which was concerned in the carpet-beating, +but a boy. + +“Don’t! don’t!” he was crying. “I won’t go away. I’ll stay with you. +I’ll do whatever you say!” + +The sound of blows ceased. + +“That is a sensible, amiable boy!” said a voice, and it was the chef’s. +“And you will say to the world that you love me--that there was never +any one like me, eh?” + +The boy groaned. + +“Yes!” + +Sir Thomas heard the whistle of a stick uplifted. + +“Oh, yes! Don’t hit me.” + +“It is for your good that I break the bones in your skin,” returned +Carrousel. “We shall hear no more of this running away?” + +“No,” in exhausted sobs. “I’ll stay. I’ll do whatever you tell me. +I----” + +Sir Thomas bounced round the corner of the shed. + +“What the devil’s this?” he said fiercely, and a lighted match +flickered in his hand. + +There was Carrousel, his face like a devil’s, grasping a heavy stick, +and on the mud floor the boot-boy, quivering with pain. The match went +out. + +“How dare you beat the boy like that?” cried Tommy. “I’ll have you up +for assault.” + +“He disobeyed me, refused to do his work.” + +In the dark Carrousel’s boot grazed the boy’s ribs. “Did you not, eh?” + +“Yes.” The answer was little better than a moan. + +“I don’t see what a cook has to do with blacking boots!” angrily. “And +if he disobeyed you a dozen times, you’ve no right to beat him like +this.” + +“He runs my errands,” said Carrousel sullenly. “He would not do his +work; he played, idled.” + +“You get out of this and let him alone,” authoritatively. “And if I +catch you at this again I’ll have you arrested. Go now, sharp! My +dog’ll be here in a minute,” significantly. + +“You threaten me--intimidate?” In the dark Carrousel’s face was not +pretty. But like lightning he changed his tone. + +“I regret if you think the punishment too severe. The boy--earned it!” +He spoke like oil, and in the dark stooped and whispered two words in +the boot-boy’s ear. + +“Clear out!” Tommy stamped his foot, unconscious of that whisper. “Get +back to your pots and pans, or I’ll have you driven there. Jacobs! Hi, +Jacobs!” he yelled. + +But Monsieur Carrousel was gone. + +Tommy stooped over the boot-boy. + +“Why did you let him beat you like that?” he said. “Why didn’t you +yell?” + +But he got no answer. Another match flickered in the shed. Towers, the +boot-boy, was lying on his face, shaking with sobs. + +“See here,” said Tommy, “don’t! Here’s half a crown for you”--his last +coin--“if you couldn’t fight that beast why didn’t you complain if he +ill-treated you? Has he done it before?” + +No answer. + +“Well,” disgustedly, “if you won’t tell, I shall! I’ll have Carrousel +hauled up.” + +Towers said something; caught at Tommy in the dark, as if to stop him. + +“Don’t!” he gasped. “Don’t sir! He’d kill me.” + +“Rot! He couldn’t. What’s the matter with him? Has he got anything +against you--why are you afraid of him?” + +“I am not afraid. He is kind to me. I will go with him if he leaves +this place.” + +Tommy drew a long breath. The short sentences had come out in the +singsong whine of the village school, exactly as if they had been +learned by rote. + +“Then you must be a fool!” he observed candidly. “Do you mean you don’t +want me to complain of the beast?” + +Towers said no, still in that unnatural voice. + +“Go back to the house and wash your face!” the other boy, who was but +four years older, advised. “And if he beats you again, you come to me, +and I’ll settle him.” + +Towers’ teeth chattered. + +“I made him angry,” he said, shivering. “I won’t do it again. Don’t say +anything, sir; oh, please!” + +“All right,” disgustedly. “If you like being pounded, it’s no concern +of mine!” and, being cold, he assisted the boot-boy to his feet and +departed. + +“Carrousel did look a devil!” he thought. “But the boy seems +half-witted. Yet----” + +He stopped short in the dark. + +“Cooky looked as if he would kill him!” he gasped. “I wonder if--but it +couldn’t be. But if I could think it, I--I’d make him swing.” + +He ran to the house as hard as he could go. For the first time he had +“thought of something.” + +“Mr. Arlington,” he cried, bursting in on the lawyer where he sat +toiling over bundles of Levallion’s neglected and unopened letters in +the hope of finding some clue to some one who had a grudge against him. +“Do you know Captain Gordon’s address?” For reasons of his own he said +nothing about that trivial incident in the garden. + +“No!” slowly. “Lord Levallion’s, you mean? I’ve never heard one word +from him.” + +The boy’s flushed face paled. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + +LEVALLION’S HEIR. + + +Adrian Gordon had ample reason for giving no address. He had wanted to +sink like a stone in London, and he had done it. + +Moving slowly away in the rain and darkness from that worse than +useless visit to Hester Murray--which, now that his blood was cool, +he saw had only served to warn her of his thoughts, and had not +intimidated her in the least--a sudden thought came over him also. A +mad one, perhaps, but irresistible. If Hester had not been able to +profit by the live Levallion, it seemed out of question she should by +the dead one. Yet, perfect actress as she was, he felt that the woman +was triumphant, in spite of the marks of deadly grief on her face. + +“I believe it was she, in spite of that pension at Boulogne!” he said +to himself. “As for the man Tommy saw with her, if it were Hester he +saw, I don’t think he counts. Goodness knows what her little amusements +may have been at night, if she were cooped up all day, as that girl +said Miss Brown was!” + +He looked round the wet street. It was not two hundred yards from +Paddington station. He could get a train at any hour for Levallion +Castle if he needed to. + +“I’ll try it, anyhow!” he thought, and, not being as shrewd as +Levallion, it never occurred to him that the very nearness of +Paddington station, where it was so easy to come and go from Levallion, +had brought Hester Murray to Starr Street. + +In the dull, rainy gaslight the new Lord Levallion--who had winced +when some one called him by his title--retraced his steps, crossed the +street. There, in number fourteen, diagonally opposite fifteen, was a +transparent red-glass sign--“Lodgings.” And lodging-letting was Starr +Street’s means of existence, as a stroll down it showed him. + +He rang at number fourteen, and, when he came away after a short +colloquy with a frowsy woman, he went no farther than the great +thoroughfare round the corner, where a ready-made clothing shop +swallowed him up. Ten minutes later a man with a new portmanteau, +containing the toilet things he had not thought necessary to bring for +a half-hour’s visit to London, and a cheap suit of dittoes, returned to +fourteen Starr Street. The neglected door opened, closed on him. The +red sign of lodgings still hung in the ground-floor window, because +there was still a spare room in the house, and Hester Murray saw it +as she went to bed, saw it without thinking of it, as she had seen it +every night since she came. + +“Fool!” she thought. “But he always was.” Yet her lips were white, even +as she remembered she had had the best of her discomfited visitor. For +five minutes that she would never forget till her dying day, she had +thought he knew something, and was come to tell her so. But as she +looked at him she knew he was talking by guesswork. And she was able to +combat more than guesswork. + +“Well, he’s gone, thank goodness!” she said, aloud--and if Hester +Murray thanked goodness there was no one to see the awful insolence of +it. “I don’t suppose he’s been reading the papers lately! And even if +he had he might not have thought anything.” + +She shaded her candle with her hand, and went into the next room. A +boy lay there in bed, a handsome child of ten, with something in his +sleeping face that made her quiver and turn ghastly in the candle-light. + +“God, how like he is!” she muttered. “I didn’t--I didn’t do it. If the +worst came to the worst I could swear that.” She swallowed something in +her throat. “I was treated like a dog,” she gasped. “I was driven. But +I can swear I never did it. Oh, I mustn’t think of it! I’d break down. +I’ve got to fight--for Adrian.” + +For that sleeping child’s name was Adrian, too. But the very thought of +what she was going to fight seemed to paralyze her, the danger of it, +the---- She put down the candle, knelt with passion beside the child. + +“I’ll do it for you!” she said deliberately. And put away from her the +thought that if she had been a driven, desperate woman a week ago, she +was more so now by a hundredfold, and with a harder taskmaster behind +her. When she got up her face was steady. + +“It’s lucky I’d got back when he came!” she thought, harking back +to Adrian Gordon. “Otherwise there might have been questions to the +landlady. But all she knew was that for two or three nights I dined +out, and came home in a hansom at half-past twelve. Even that she might +not know, because of my latch-key. I’d better go to bed. I must look +decent to-morrow. I wish I hadn’t had to let him write to Boulogne--but +there--I’m safe through it.” And it was odd she did not remember that +five minutes before she had assured herself that she was guiltless, and +safe in any case. + +The neighbor she knew nothing of had certainly not been reading the +papers, and if he had, might very well have overlooked the small print, +unimportant paragraph about a man named Murray having been run over in +the street, while the worse for drinking, and taken to Guy’s Hospital. +But from Guy’s Hospital Mrs. Murray had not long returned when he paid +his foolish visit to her. It was long after visiting-hours, but Hester +was a pretty woman still. The house surgeon had seen her, and told her +that there was small chance for the man she asked for. + +“He may linger one day, perhaps two,” he said. “But in all probability +he’ll never be conscious, and he can’t recover. Was he,” marveling, “a +relation?” + +“Oh, no!” said the woman in the faultless widow’s weeds prettily. “Only +a--a sort of protégé. He had come down in the world.” + +The surgeon thought that was a mild way of describing the sodden, dying +wretch up-stairs. + +The woman who had lived with poor Bob Murray for years drove away with +a lightened spirit. That which she had to do was robbed of half its +peril since he was dying, was practically dead. If he had been alive +and well, it would have had to be done just the same, if she cared to +live in this world at all; but the doing of it might have been all but +impossible. Now her safety lay almost in her hand. She slept that night. + +Mr. Atkinson--it was the name of the ready-made clothing shop, and had +seemed less like an alias than Smith or Brown--the new lodger at number +fourteen, informed his landlady that he was an invalid. His drawn face +confirmed him, and his occupation of sitting all day by the window and +never going out was accounted for. + +Morning and evening he read the papers. The rest of the day he never +took his eyes off Mrs. Murray’s house--and all he got for his pains +was to see her go out and in quietly, sometimes alone, sometimes with +that boy, whose face was so like another face. She never had a visitor, +man or woman, and certainly if Miss Brown had been described as being +given to drink, Mrs. Murray was not. Pale, dainty, mournful, she came +and went; and if he had had a purpose in watching her he thought it a +mad dream as the days flew by. A whole week and he saw nothing; a night +when he slipped out to his own rooms, in Charles Street, and came back +with a letter from Boulogne, that he had not dared sign Atkinson. And +the letter gave him no shred of hope that Hester had lied to him. It +was in a man’s hand, short and businesslike. + +“Madam Murray, the friend after whom he asked, had certainly spent the +summer at the Pension Bocaze, which she had left, indeed, not ten days +ago. The writer was unable to supply her present address.” + +It was signed Jean-Paul Berthier. And on inquiry it was no pleasure +to Adrian Gordon to find that Jean-Paul Berthier and the pension were +well, and reputably enough, known in Boulogne. + +“Hester is out of it,” he said to himself. Yet he lingered another week +in his sordid lodgings, among smells of bad cooking. It was madness, +perhaps time wasted, when there was but a fortnight now to Valehampton +Assizes, where the woman he loved would be tried for her life. Yet +haggard-eyed, worn to a shadow, Adrian Gordon still sat peering through +his half-closed shutters; still searched the papers for he knew not +what. Perhaps a tramp dying in a workhouse, a swell mobman arrested +and turning queen’s evidence. It began to enter his head that he might +do that equally well at Levallion Castle; began to rend his soul from +his body to stay away from Ravenel. But he knew, perhaps, it would +be madness to go to see her, considering the part he must bear in the +circumstantial evidence that lied and yet was true; for he stayed on. + +And one wet, ghastly evening he flung down the _Star_, and then caught +it up again. With blazing eyes he read a long article. + + * * * * * + +“A curious thing has come to light in connection with the late Lord +Levallion, whose tragic and mysterious death lately horrified all +Valeshire. It seems that the heir, Captain Gordon, of the ---- Hussars, +who has so far taken no steps toward assuming the title, will have +difficulty in making good his claim to it. + +“A claimant has arisen in London, a lady formerly well and honorably +known as Mrs. Murray, of Eaton Place, who curiously enough declares +that she is the only person having any right to the title of Countess +of Levallion, and that her son, formerly known as Adrian Gordon Murray, +is the only child of the dead peer. + +“The story is a sad, and also an involved one. It seems that Mrs. +Murray, to give her the name by which the best society in London knew +her, was married at the age of seventeen to a man of bad reputation, +named John Davidge. He treated her cruelly, and then deserted her in +Nice after two years of wretchedness. She had no children, and, being +bitterly poor, became _dame du comptoir_ in a cheap restaurant, where +Mr. Murray, her supposed husband, saw and fell madly in love with her. +She had some reason to think Davidge dead, and decided that in any +case he had no claim on her. She married Murray, he being under the +impression she was a single woman, which her age and looks made likely. +For a year the two lived on the Continent, apparently in perfect amity, +till--and here comes the gist of the story--Mrs. Murray was obliged to +go suddenly to England to see about a small legacy that had been left +her. + +“Between Paris and London she made the acquaintance of the late Lord +Levallion, and from her own story seems to have fallen passionately +in love with him, utterly forgetful of Mr. Murray, whom she had left +at Pau, suffering from a bad attack of influenza. At all events, she +never mentioned his existence to Lord Levallion, but gave him her true +name of Davidge. The legacy which was left to her in that name bore her +out, as none of her relatives had ever heard of her second marriage. +And Davidge, Lord Levallion had seen stabbed in a scandalous quarrel +in a house in Paris. _De Mortuis nil nisi bonum_, notwithstanding, +it may be said that the late peer was catholic in his haunts and his +acquaintances. + +“At all events, in 1889, the marriage of Hester Davidge and Lord +Levallion took place at the registrar’s office in Islington, but the +bride, with excellent reasons, refused to have it made public, and went +abroad with him under the name of Mrs. Gordon, by which surname he also +called himself. Needless to say the bride was anxious to avoid France +and Mr. Murray, although assured he could have no claim on her. And +she also never allowed Lord Levallion to introduce or mention her to +any friends whom he encountered, giving as an excuse that she was in +delicate health and fanciful. + +“In 1890 her son was born, at Vevay, where he was christened and +registered as Adrian Gordon, Lord Valehampton, Levallion’s second +title, and described as the only son of Adrian Gordon, Lord Levallion, +and his wife. And at Vevay the bubble burst. Murray, by some trick of +fate, came face to face with the pair; claimed and denounced his wife, +and, to her surprise, had discovered that she had been not only his +wife, but Davidge’s. + +“Lord Levallion was furiously angry. There is no doubt that he would +have thrown her back on Murray’s hands if it had been possible. But at +first it was not. Davidge had been undoubtedly alive at the time of +Mrs. Gordon’s supposed marriage with Murray, and as undoubtedly dead +when she secretly became Lady Levallion. But Murray, and witnesses far +more reputable, swore that Davidge had not died, but recovered; was +alive in New York at that present moment. + +“Lord Levallion seems to have been utterly mortified at his position, +for his shrewdness, pride, and acumen were well known. But, in spite +of his just anger, it seems that he was still infatuated with his +supposed wife, who was heart-broken at the wreck of her life and +the illegitimacy of her boy. Those, at least, are the only grounds +on which his subsequent and utterly unjustifiable conduct can be +explained. He calmly relinquished his pseudo bride to Murray, whose +right, if no better, was at least a prior one, and returned to England. +Mrs. Murray, to give her the name by which she has since been known, +persuaded Murray to forgive and take her back again. She also swore +that her son was his child, which was possible, and informed Murray +that Levallion had forced her to behave as she had. Also that her +legacy, instead of hundreds of pounds, had been thousands, as she was +residuary legatee of an aunt’s fortune. + +“Murray, who seems to have been a weak and kindly man, and already +a slave to the alcohol he had taken to in his abject misery at her +desertion, took her back, with apparently no thought for the absent +Davidge. They went to London, took a house in Eaton Place, and +gradually entered society. Mrs. Murray’s legacy was apparently an +ample one, for she lived in luxury, Murray never suspecting that Lord +Levallion’s bank-account supplied the funds, or that Lord Levallion +himself was a constant and utterly clandestine visitor. + +“No hint of his connection with Mrs. Murray ever leaked out; he never +was seen with her, or entering her house, the fact being that he never +came in daylight, and that Murray at night was usually dead drunk. +The servants knew nothing of his visits, as he used a small garden +door leading directly into Mrs. Murray’s boudoir. And so things went +for years till he had reason to be angry with Mrs. Murray on several +counts--one her extravagance and imprudence, another her friendship +with a man who openly boasted of her favors, and last the open +hostility of Murray, who, one day on meeting Lord Levallion in the +street, abused him with drunken eloquence. + +“The late peer satisfied himself that Mrs. Murray was being no truer +in the present than she had been in the past, and quietly threw her +over. Her new lover had no money, and, being in great straits, she +went to Captain Gordon--the present heir to the earldom--whom she knew +slightly, and gave him an evidently erroneous idea of her position +in regard to his cousin, with such success that he believed her and +lent her money. Whether he found out about her from Levallion, it is +impossible to say. Certainly he refused her any further assistance +afterward, but it is equally certain that for some months he believed +her to be the rightful Countess of Levallion and her son the future +earl. + +“By this time Mrs. Murray was determined to keep her footing in +society. She dismissed her new lover, and appealed to Levallion, who +was adamant. He held that she had no claim on him, but gave her a lump +sum of money yielding a yearly income sufficient to keep up her house +in Eaton Place. + +“Three months after their final rupture came news like a thunderbolt. +Lord Levallion had become engaged to be married to the only daughter +of the late Sir Thomas Annesley, the same unfortunate lady who, justly +or unjustly, now awaits her trial for his murder. Mrs. Murray was +powerless, never having been his wife, as she thought. But no later +than a fortnight ago fate’s kaleidoscope shifted. It turned out by a +curious chain of events that the late Lord Levallion was right about +the death of Davidge. It was he and no other who was killed in a +scandalous brawl in Paris, but his death was hidden by a namesake, a +cousin, Maurice Davidge, who quietly changed identities with the dead +man, who was in receipt of an allowance from their family; buried +himself, so to speak, and as John Davidge went to America, when quite +casually the thing leaked out. Mrs. Murray, be she good or bad, is +probably Lady Levallion, for Murray’s wife she never was. He had left +her for months, having somehow discovered about Levallion, when the +quondam John Davidge spoke out. + +“Our readers will find the opening proceedings of the case against the +present heirs of Lord Levallion on our first page.” + + * * * * * + +The reader dropped the paper. This was what had been up Hester Murray’s +sleeve! + +“She can have the whole show for all I care!” he said, after a moment +of wonder that any woman could be so shamelessly outspoken, even for +money. + +“She must know no one will accept her after all that story,” he +thought, though--except that Davidge was dead--he had known most of it. + +His face grew very hopeless. This case of Hester’s disposed of all wish +on her part for Levallion’s death. She would far rather have forced +herself on him, and shamed him; it seemed to Gordon that his death had +taken away the point of the woman’s revenge. + +“No, she’s out of it,” he said. “It could not have been her whom Tommy +saw.” + +From sheer habit he stared once more at her house--and started to his +feet in the dark, forlorn room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + +“FALSE AS A PACK OF CARDS.” + + +Mrs. Murray and her story were a thunderbolt in society. It chanced +that the only person who did not hear of it was Lady Annesley, whom +fate had afflicted with a sharp attack of neuralgia in the eyes--real +this time--and her doctor consigned to a rest-cure at Horrogate, where +newspapers and the outside world did not exist. + +The duchess sent for Tommy at Valehampton, and aired her views on the +character of Mrs. Murray. + +But the boy cared very little. The conversation turned soon enough to +the topmost thing in both minds--Ravenel in jail, and the precious days +that were flying by and bringing out nothing to help her. + +“I’ll help her if I have to choke the home secretary,” the duchess +cried, tearful and regardless. “Oh, Tommy, it breaks my heart to see +her! She’s never cried, never broken down, they tell me. But I know +she’s past all hoping. I think she’s just waiting to die.” + +Sir Thomas opened his mouth and shut it again. + +After all, he had nothing to tell the duchess: his thought that night +in the garden had come to nothing. He had played secret police on the +boot-boy in vain; had questioned him uselessly. Wide-eyed, frightened, +almost idiotic, Towers had stared at him; what answers he did make were +not what Tommy Annesley wanted. + +“Will she talk to you?” he said. + +The duchess could only nod. All that pitiful, childish story of Adrian +Gordon’s letters and ring had Lady Levallion told her--and even the +duchess could see that it would make Levallion’s death look black +enough--to a jury. + +“Captain Gordon has never been near her. I suppose he dare not,” she +said heavily, as she wiped her eyes. “Where is he?” + +“Nobody knows,” and Tommy could have killed the man who, instead of +moving heaven and earth to set Ravenel free, had seen fit to vanish +and leave her to her fate. The whole world, except the duchess and her +lawyers, was doing that. Surely Gordon could not mean to do nothing at +all! + +“I must get home,” he said, and got up to go. Not all the duchess could +say would keep him away from Levallion Castle. The clue was there, if +it were anywhere on God’s earth. Night after night, while the house was +asleep, the boy examined every inch of it, and looked and wondered and +hoped in vain. If there had been any one in tweed clothes on the other +side of Levallion’s door when Mr. Jacobs banged it--and was forced for +his pains to run back through a passage and Lady Levallion’s suite of +rooms before he could get out into the corridor again--that man would +not have dared to go into any of the guests’ rooms, where the dog might +keep him besieged. Nor would he have had time to gain the kitchen, +where Jacobs had rushed. The only place he could have got to would +be the housekeeper’s room, which was up two steps as you went to the +kitchen. And that was out of the question, because the housekeeper had +been in there, and Carrousel, too. No man bouncing into a quiet room to +get away from a dog could do it without disturbing its occupants. The +housekeeper had not heard a sound. And the theory of Carrousel having +a hand in the poisoning did not hold water. A cook, dressed in white, +could not tear tweed clothes on the latch of a door; nor if he had +would have had time to change them. + +Mr. Allington looked up as they were at dinner, a lovely pair in a +desolate house. The new development anent Mrs. Murray had nearly driven +the good man frantic, for he had little doubt that her story was true. +Most of it was, to his own knowledge. And, as for Lady Levallion, he +had never for one moment imagined her guilty. Perhaps Tommy’s watch on +the servants was not the only one in that house that so far had been +fruitless. + +“Can you eat nothing, either?” he said precisely. “It seems to me our +dinner is not so good as usual.” + +“Carrousel is out, sir,” the butler put in respectfully. “The steward +gave him leave to go at luncheon-time. He will be back to-night.” + +“Ah!” said Allington, too much annoyed to utter. If any servant left +the house he had been able, so far, to ascertain just where he or she +went. This was unbearable! “Has he friends in the neighborhood?” + +“He went to take Towers, the boot-boy, to a new place in London, sir! +Towers was frightened to go alone.” + +Sir Thomas nearly leaped off his chair. Not for one moment did he ever +imagine Carrousel would be back to-night or any other night. + +“Tommy!” said Allington quietly, and his eyes flashed warning, “let me +advise you, at least, to drink your claret.” He knew nothing about the +boot-boy, but he knew that Sir Thomas’ mind was running in the same +channel as his own. + +“I’ll have some beef,” said Tommy to the butler, waving away a +proffered dish. It was quite right to keep up appearances, but every +minute might be precious. And then it came over him with a flat, deadly +sinking that he was imagining nonsense; because a cook chose to beat a +boy and take a day’s outing. + +Strung up, tense, he felt as if every trivial word might mean something +to-night. As he cut up his beef he grew suddenly rigid in his chair. A +footman was handing Allington a telegram, the pinky envelope seemed to +swim on the silver tray to the boy’s excited eyes. + +Was this something--at last--from the detectives? + +Allington, with an impassive countenance, crumpled the sheet and put it +in his pocket. + +“The Duchess of Avonmore would like to see you the first thing in the +morning,” he said. + +“What for----” Tommy stopped himself. “Why didn’t she wire me, I +wonder?” + +“That I don’t know,” said Allington. “If you don’t want any more of an +inferior dinner, suppose we adjourn. It seems to me,” turning to the +butler, “that the same sort of meal was served two days ago. Kindly +give my compliments to the steward, and say I do not wish it to occur +again.” + +“Yes, sir. But Carrousel went out without leave last time. He is rather +above himself, you know, sir,” the butler explained hastily. + +Allington made no answer. But as soon as he and Tommy reached the +morning-room he shut the door, and his face was that of a different man. + +“Read that,” he said. “Tell me what you think of it.” + +Tommy smoothed out the crumpled telegram and saw the duchess’ message +was fiction. + + “Wire to Atkinson, 14 Starr Street, Paddington,” he read, “who, if + any, of the servants has been in town during the week. + + A. GORDON.” + +“What does it mean?” He shook like a leaf. + +“I hope it means a clue. Why did you jump so about the boot-boy and the +cook? I hear he takes a great interest in him.” + +Sir Thomas agreed with hearsay, but his tale showed the interest +Carrousel took was peculiar. + +“I believe Carrousel did the poisoning,” he said, below his breath. “I +think the boot-boy caught him at it! And we’ve lost them. I don’t think +we’ll see either of them again.” + +“Carrousel had a good alibi. It isn’t possible,” Allington returned. +“Yet I don’t like this business of the boy. What sort of a place do you +suppose----” thoughtfully. + +“No place,” Tommy cut in short. “He’s going to put that boy out of the +way. He knows something. Does this thing,” tapping the telegram, “mean +Gordon’s in Starr Street? What would he be there for? And what made him +think any of the servants were in London?” + +“That I don’t know. But I might have guessed he was in Starr Street,” +absently. “I’m afraid he’s wasting time. There’s no hope there.” + +“So are we,” sharply. “Aren’t you going to answer that wire?” + +“Yes! But I don’t want the servants to know there is an answer. Will +you go out the back way, and send one?” + +“What’ll I say?” breathless. For it seemed for the first time as if +some one were doing something. + +“Say, ‘The artist. Day before yesterday and to-day. Answer.’ Sign your +name.” + +He handed Sir Thomas some money and a stray cap from a table. He had +never seemed so human before. But as Tommy disappeared through the +French window the lawyer, closing the shutters behind him, gave a +hopeless sigh. + +Captain Gordon was in Starr Street because of Mrs. Murray--as if a +woman with so much at stake would be so mad as to entangle herself in +the death of the man whose widow she wished to prove herself. + +“I don’t know what he means about the servants,” he thought. “If he’s +trying to mix up one of them with Mrs. Murray, he’s in a mare’s nest. +But if Monsieur Carrousel does not return I’ll get a warrant out for +him, on the pretext of that boy.” + +It was three miles to the telegraph-office; he allowed two hours for +Tommy to come and go; but when three had gone, and four, he began to +wonder if in this house of horror there was still more to come. The +night was dark as a wolf’s mouth outside. After one glance without +Mr. Allington opened the door into the deserted hall. The house was +absolutely silent, for it was after twelve, and the servants had gone +to bed. + +The lawyer slipped off his boots, and vanished down the passage to the +kitchen. When he returned there was a strange look on his face, though +until to-night what he had discovered would have meant absolutely +nothing to him. As he stood once more in the morning-room a light +tap came on the window. With instinctive, reasonless caution, he +extinguished the light before he opened the wooden shutters and let Sir +Thomas in. + +“What kept you?” he said. + +“Hush!” said Tommy. “Carrousel’s going by outside.” + +In the dark Allington, the imperturbable, started. + +“He’s come back, then!” he whispered. “He’s cleverer than I thought--or +innocent.” + +“Why shouldn’t he be innocent?” cried Tommy hysterically. “Light a +candle; it’s so beastly dark here. I waited for an answer, and I saw +Carrousel get out of the train.” + +“Was the boy with him?” + +“It doesn’t matter whether he was or wasn’t. Read that,” as the candle +burned blue and then yellow he flung a telegram to Allington, and hid +his weary face on his arms. “We’re all wrong.” + + “Not my man at all,” Allington read, and the badly written lines + sickened him with disappointment. “I was mistaken. Am doing no good + here. Will be down to-morrow to consult. Unless you know something, am + worse than when I started. + + A. G.” + +Allington’s discovery of the evening dwindled away to nothing again. He +had no heart to speak of it since Carrousel was evidently not concerned +in it. + +“Don’t despair till we find out what this means,” he said slowly. But +in his soul he knew that they had been led away by a will-o’-the-wisp, +made of suspicion, coincidence, and the ill treatment of a boot-boy. +Their supposed clue was false as a pack of cards! + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + +GOOD-BY. + + +But it was not to Levallion Castle that Adrian Gordon came in the crisp +blue and gold of the autumn evening. + +Ravenel, seated on her bed, with her sluggish blood barely moving in +her veins, leaped to her feet as her door opened. + +“You!” she cried, and if for an instant her face was transfigured, the +next she put out her trembling hands as if to warn him to stay where he +was. “How did you get in?” + +“As men do who storm a city wall,” he might have answered truly; but he +only said: “Quite easily,” and let his eyes look their fill on the face +of the only woman in the world. + +The matron after one shrewd glance turned her back on them. But it was +trouble wasted; neither of them thought of her. Her eyes were on him as +his on her. And the dead, ugly pallor of her face, that had been like a +rose, the black circles round her dull eyes, the thin transparency of +her hands, made him catch his breath for agony of pity; but she never +saw how worn he was because she was looking in his eyes that she had +never hoped to see again. + +“Seventeen days of it,” he thought, “and she looks like this! How +will she look after months--years?” For they would never dare to hang +her, to break that slender neck with a rope in a prison yard. Yet he +knew after one look at her that if she were found guilty, even of +manslaughter, it meant death for her! Death in a prison cell, alone. + +The man’s heart-break choked him. + +Six feet of bare floor lay between them, that was all; yet shame and +the grave could part them no more utterly. + +“Nel,” he said, for the minutes were flying, “I had to come. You’re not +angry?” + +“No,” she whispered. And if for a minute she had thought he brought her +good news, she knew now he had none. Gordon turned and saw the matron. +Before he could speak she deliberately put her fingers in her ears. Ten +juries might ask her what they said, and she could tell them nothing. +The look in the woman’s eyes sent Adrian to Ravenel’s side. + +“Nel,” he whispered, “tell me, for God’s sake! who you saw in that +room, and why you lied at the inquest? Did you think it was I?” + +“I know it wasn’t, now. I might always have known, but I couldn’t +think--afterward.” + +“But you did see some one?” + +“I said not,” quietly. “It wouldn’t do me any good now to let them know +I lied.” + +“If I had done it twenty times I wouldn’t have had you hold your tongue +to save me.” He was hoarse with pain. “How could you think that I, +who’d gone to London, was in Levallion’s house?” + +“I didn’t think.” She met his eyes with hers, dull from nights of +agony. “I took down the bottle; looked up, and thought I saw you going +out the door! I was frightened. I felt as if I had seen a ghost! When +Jacobs growled and bristled I ran. And then--the stuff killed him.” +Horror twisting her pale lips. “How could I tell? How was I to know you +had not come back, for some reason? I--I never for one second thought +you killed him.” + +“My own heart,” said the man, with a breath like a sob, “don’t defend +yourself to me. I know you never thought that. But if you won’t tell +about the figure you saw, I will. Don’t you know some one must?” + +“You’d do no good,” gently. “Only make me a liar. And even now, Adrian, +I couldn’t swear the figure was real and not my fancy. I’d been trying +all that day to put you out of my mind.” + +“But you said the bottle was warm!” + +“Quite warm,” she shuddered, “like blood. But that was what frightened +me--afterward. I remembered what you’d said about poisoning him--and +yet I wouldn’t, wouldn’t believe it!” + +“Some one had been carrying it in a hot hand,” he cried. “The same +person who put those bottles in your room. Did you think I would have +done that?” bitterly. + +“I knew you wouldn’t, but you must remember that I knew nothing about +those bottles till my evidence was finished,” simply. + +“There’s a God, they say!” he said, between his teeth. “If there is, He +won’t let the guilty escape. Nel, promise me something. Trust me, even +if things come to the worst. There’ll be help somewhere!” very low. + +“Not for me,” quietly. “You’ve been trying all this time and found out +nothing. I see it in your face.” + +“I thought of Mrs. Murray,” he said painfully, “and I’m afraid I’m +wrong. She had nothing to gain and revenge to lose. The talk would have +been worse than death to him.” + +A quick look of pain came to her face. + +“I know,” she muttered. “The duchess told me.” + +He answered with that utter honesty she had loved in him. + +“Nel, you would not believe what Hester says about Levallion. He never +went to that house in Eaton Place, except once, when they thought the +boy was dying. He gave her money, but she lies when she says he kept on +going there. You knew him better than that.” + +“I never believed it,” she answered quietly, loyal to the dead, as she +had been to the living. + +“Now you know why I could not answer you about ‘Mrs. Gordon,’” he +whispered, thinking that assuredly no wickeder woman than Hester Murray +trod the earth. “It was she herself!” + +“Never mind her,” with sudden passion she caught his arm. “Let her +be! Adrian, do you think I’ll ever see you again, face to face, like +this? For I sha’n’t! Talk of yourself, talk of something I may remember +when”--sharply--“till I die.” + +“I’ll see you hundreds of times, please God. Day in and day out,” but +his eyes were not on hers. + +“You won’t, you can’t!” The self-control that had held her since that +dreadful night gone now. “Adrian!” she cried, wild, terrified, broken, +“they’ll hang me. I can’t prove I did not do it. Help me, comfort me, +make me brave.” + +If ten matrons had been looking on he would have caught her to him. + +“Never,” he said, low, in her ear. “Not while I can speak and see.” But +what he meant never dawned on her. + +“Put that thought from you. I swear you can.” For with that rag--and +his tweed suit could easily be torn--there was one way open still. + +“If they let me go to-morrow, the world would think we did it,” she +gasped. “There’s blood between us. We’d be as far apart as if I died.” + +“If I never see you on this side the grave,” the man cried +passionately, “do you think I’ll ever be really parted from you? +What are a few years--when some time we’ll wake and find it’s the +Resurrection Day? Love, don’t grieve!” + +For as he spoke she remembered how once it was she who had meant to +creep to his side when the dead came out of their graves, and now God +had made that the only hope left. + +“Listen,” he said, “I’ll have to go in a minute. I came to tell you +something. I let you think I’d found out nothing; I’ve found out one +way. There’ll be no death for you, my sweetheart, no prison. I can’t +tell you what I know, but it will set you free.” + +“No, no, no!” Tears blinded her. She caught him to her madly. “Not +that, never that.” + +“Not that.” He hushed her like a child; and if ever a lie was pardoned, +his was. “Be at peace; not that. Oh! what did we do that we should end +like this?” he broke out fiercely, more to himself than to her. + +“My heart, we’ll wake some day in paradise,” she said, very low, for +his passion steadied her. “And perhaps it won’t be long.” + +He stooped and kissed her as a man whose minutes are numbered; held her +close in agony that hurt her and him. + +“Be brave,” he muttered, for he was broken utterly. “Remember you’re +safe. Eat what they give you,” and the homely, kindly detail was +dreadful in its tender care. “Think of Tommy and of me, who’ll be +happy--and God knows how happy--when you’re free.” + +Somehow he put her away from him as the warden knocked at the door. + +But outside in the free air he shut his teeth and prayed he had not +lied to her. For suppose what he had in his mind was not enough to set +her clear! It was not hope that had brought him to Valehampton Jail. If +there were none at Levallion Castle--and there could be none---- + +“I pray God my shoulders are broad enough,” he thought, turning away. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + +A MOUSE-HOLE. + + +“Well,” said Allington grimly, “you ruined a fine theory for me last +night with your wire. I thought for a solid hour that I could put my +fingers on the man who killed Levallion.” + +The two were strolling up and down the open lawn at Levallion Castle. +Perhaps Mr. Allington made a guess as to what had deferred Adrian +Gordon’s arrival till three in the afternoon, but he said nothing. The +face of the new Lord Levallion, who in a few more days would be plain +Adrian Gordon once more, did not encourage comment. + +“You did mean you thought it could be the cook?” he cried, standing +still in the autumn sunshine. + +“I did. But”--he flicked the ash from his cigar significantly--“it all +went like that.” + +“What put it into your head at all?” drearily. + +“A boot-boy. The only servant who was not called at the inquest.” And +he told Sir Thomas’ tale of the beating, and the subsequent tender care +of Monsieur Carrousel in finding his protégé a new place. + +“That set me thinking,” he continued. “I went down to the housekeeper’s +room last night when the house was quiet, and I found it led into the +still-room.” + +“I don’t see much in that,” interrupting him. “We all know that. It’s +to keep the still-room under her eye. That’s all. There’s no second +door from the still-room.” + +“Isn’t there?” said Allington quietly. “Did it never strike any one +that a portion of those shelves in that room covers a door, that +opens, shelves and all, into the ‘boothole’ under the kitchen stairs. +I confess last night that with that discovery, and the carting off of +the boot-boy, I felt jubilant. But it was all rubbish. The housekeeper +had a letter from the boy I thought the cook had made away with, to +say he liked his new place which Monsieur Carrousel had found for him. +Something Square it was dated, and postmarked Paddington.” + +“It’s all one what it was postmarked,” Gordon returned dully. “It +wasn’t Carrousel I saw last night; and I agree with you that the +boot-boy business was all bona fide enough. A clever Frenchman might +pound a stupid boy to a jelly from exasperation, and then turn round +and be kind to him.” + +“Who did you see last night?” curiously. “I suppose you’ve been playing +detective on Mrs. Murray, eh?” + +Adrian nodded. + +“I don’t know why,” he said, “for she was in Boulogne all summer. +Couldn’t have been down here at all. But I took lodgings opposite and +lay doggo to watch her. Much I got! No one went into her house except +her lawyers in that case of hers,” as indifferently as if it concerned +him not at all and did not spell ruin, “till last night, when I saw a +man go up her steps. Something about him startled me, his back looked +familiar; I don’t know why, but I could have sworn I’d seen him down +here. Yet I knew he was none of the house-party. He went in, and I ran +out and wired to you. But before your answer came I knew I’d made an +ass of myself. I’d just got back to my door when I saw the fellow come +out, and it was no one I’d ever seen in my life. I saw his face quite +plainly as he lit a cigar. If I’d seen it like that in the first place +I’d never have wired at all. He was just a pal of Hester’s.” + +Allington nodded. He was as disappointed as a dog that has discovered +an empty rat-hole. + +“What do you think of doing now?” he said. “The detectives are quite +hopeless of finding Sir Thomas’ mysterious man and woman, I may tell +you. That woman who levanted from the bungalow was their first thought, +but she has apparently fallen off the earth. As for the man”--snapping +his fingers--“after pouncing on twenty innocent young farmers, they +have given him up. Unless----” He stopped awkwardly. Somehow he could +not say to Adrian Gordon that he had yet to prove he was not himself +that man. Not that Allington thought so, but there was no doubt the +police did. + +“Unless he turns up, directly under their noses,” said Adrian coolly. +But Allington could make no guess at what he meant. + +“What do you think of doing?” he repeated. + +“Go back to town, and----” he hesitated. “Look here, Allington, you +don’t think this business of Hester Murray’s looks queer bang on top of +Levallion’s death, do you?” + +“No,” unwillingly. “She’d be afraid to try it--in that case. In any +case, you say you know she was in Boulogne.” + +“I suppose I do. She gave me an address of a pension there, and +I wrote. It was all straight enough. Hello! here’s Tommy!” with +annoyance. He had not wanted to see Tommy. The boy’s eyes were too +clear, even a lie untold might be written in Gordon’s face, he thought +vexedly. + +“Hello! where’ve you been?” he said uncomfortably, and then stopped +short. + +“My God, Tommy! what is it?” he cried, the dreadful look on the boy’s +face meaning only one thing to him. Ravenel was guilty, and her brother +had found it out! + +“Don’t speak to me!” said the boy hoarsely; “let me think. I’ve +been--and I thought it might mean something, but--it can’t!” + +Wherever he had been he had been running, and his face was white and +red in streaks. Allington pulled him down on a garden bench. + +“Get your breath,” he said, but he was afraid, too. + +At the two pale faces the boy suddenly laughed out hysterically. + +“I’ve made a fool of myself,” he said. “I thought I’d found something. +Look here. I went over to the farm where--you know the Umbrella died?” +incoherently. + +“She didn’t know anything!” cried Allington. “I turned the farmer’s +wife inside out. I suppose you mean by the Umbrella the woman who wrote +those letters to Lady Levallion that can’t be found?” + +“I don’t know what she knew,” said Tommy sharply. “And we never will. +I went out toward the station to see if Gordon had come down by the +two-twenty, and he hadn’t. Coming home I met Mrs. Ward, the farmer’s +wife, and she asked me what she was to do with the Umbrella’s old +bonnet or something, but she really stopped me to know if any of us +would pay for the Umbrella’s board. It seems she stayed a week there, +and Ravenel hadn’t sent her enough money to pay for that and her +funeral. I don’t know! Anyhow, I strolled up with old Mother Ward to +see just what the Umbrella had left in the way of clothes, and to view +the undertaker’s bill for myself. For old Ward’s a beast. There were +some old rags of clothes with nothing in the pockets, and I said you’d +pay the undertaker,” turning to Allington. “I was staring round the +place and I saw a piece of paper, just an edge, sticking out between +the floor and the wall. I hooked it out, and there was a mouse-hole +behind it; the mice had dragged the thing in there. + +“Old Mother Ward gave a yell. Said the Umbrella had held that thing in +her hand till she died, and she’d wondered what had become of it. I +thought--oh! I don’t know what I thought,” miserably; “but it isn’t any +good. Here’s the thing, and it doesn’t mean anything.” + +“It’s a torn telegram,” said Allington, peering over Gordon’s shoulder +as he snatched the paper. “What’s that on the back of it?” + +“Nothing,” said Tommy, “only 1 pound, or something.” + +Adrian Gordon, like a man in a dream, stared at the dirty mouse-eaten +thing he held. It might be meaningless enough to Tommy and Allington, +but to him. + +“By ----!” he said, below his breath, “Hester!” + +“What do you mean?” cried Allington, startled. + +“Look!” grimly, his eyes as hard as Levallion’s had ever been. + +And Allington made out the tattered telegram. + +“Wire descript-- Bocage. Imme----” the address was eaten away, there was +no signature. + +“I don’t see what you mean!” he exclaimed. + +Gordon pulled from his pocket that letter from Pension Bocage +concerning Mrs. Murray. + +“Now do you understand?” he cried. “She was in Boulogne all +summer--according to that. Yet the man who wrote it wired to her to +describe herself. The meaning’s clear enough. ‘Wire description to +Bocage immediately,’ that’s how the telegram ran. It was Hester Murray +Tommy saw that night--and she dropped it.” + +“But how could the woman who died come by it?” said Allington +doubtingly. + +Tommy jumped up. + +“You never knew her!” he cried. “She was always creeping and crawling +round. You bet she saw that man and woman the night I did, and that was +what she wanted to tell Ravenel. Oh, if she hadn’t died!” he caught his +breath. “She had sharp ears, the Umbrella. She may have heard every +word they said. And now we’ll never know.” + +“Now, on the contrary, we’ve the only clue we’ve ever had,” Gordon +returned. “You’re a fool, Tommy!” staring at the reverse of the +telegram, “with your ‘1 pound!’ It’s ‘I found’ written on the back of +it, and something else I can’t make out. But even without it, we’ve +enough for--Hester Murray,” savagely. + +Sir Thomas dived into his pockets. + +“Whoever the woman was,” he cried, hunting vigorously, “I’ve got +something belonging to her. You didn’t know that when Jacobs went for +the man that night he tore the woman’s cloak, did you? And--oh! here it +is!” gladly. “I’ve had it ever since.” + +He laid in Allington’s hand a scrap of black satin, with a torn bit of +chinchilla hanging to it. + +Adrian stared at him. + +“Why, in Heaven’s name!” he said blankly, “didn’t you show that at the +inquest?” + +“Because I’m not a fool,” returned Sir Thomas. + +“The room was full of men. How did I know any of ’em hadn’t been +drinking champagne in the moonlight with a lady, and would go off and +tell her she’d been seen looking in windows. Besides, then, mind you, I +thought it was you I saw on the rock, and I didn’t care who it was with +you, because I’d proved it wasn’t my sister.” + +Adrian winced. + +“I can’t say much for your eyesight!” he cried, with sarcasm. “Last +night Allington says you were quite ready to think the man was +Carrousel.” + +The words cut. + +“I never said it was Carrousel I saw on the rock that night,” said +Tommy, suddenly very white and quiet. “I never thought it. He’s got a +beard. But I’d tell you this much: If you’ll find the woman who owns +that cloak, and give me time--I’ll find the man!” + +“Time’s just what we haven’t got. And I don’t believe you’d know the +man if you fell over him,” unbelievingly. + +“I mightn’t,” said Tommy composedly. “But--Jacobs would.” + +And neither man believed him. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + +A GRAY-LINED CLOAK. + + +“I’m going to win!” said Hester Murray to herself breathlessly. “Oh, +I’m going to win!” + +For her case had been taken up by the cleverest barrister in London, +and, as he showed it to her, faultlessly dovetailed together, there +was not a flaw in it. Maurice Davidge, even, who, for his own reasons, +had posed this ten years back as John Davidge, was in London, and in +self-defense had chosen to stand his chance for false impersonation and +misappropriation of money rather than take John Davidge’s sins on his +shoulders. + +For John Davidge’s father had had excellent cause to pension off his +son. A long-gone-by agrarian riot and murder in Ireland had been John +Davidge’s work, and by a queer chain of circumstances had come home to +him now. + +Maurice, to save his neck, which he had ignorantly ventured in London, +was glad enough to have Hester Murray corroborate his tale. And, +indeed, there was no doubt about his identity. Witness after witness +cropped up to establish that, and the death and burial of the true +John Davidge, who had lived long enough to make Hester’s marriage to +Murray null and void, and died just in time to legalize her union with +Levallion. + +But it was queer that, as she looked at her lawyer’s triumphant, +confident letter, a shiver took her; the shiver old women call +footsteps on your grave. She got up and drank some brandy, nearly neat. +At the bungalow she had got into the way of keeping her heart up with +spirits, but she would break that off now. Yet she took another glass +before her shivering-fit would pass. + +“It was that dream!” she said to herself. “It unstrung me. I wish I +knew what it meant. But dreams”--the brandy was warming her now--“are +rubbish! Only thoughts, after all.” + +Yet that dream had made her wake up, crying out till Adrian--that +Adrian who had Levallion’s blood in him--came to her from the next room. + +“What’s the matter?” he cried, a bonny figure in the half-light, with +his ruffled head and his tumbled nightgown. + +“I dreamed I was on a swing!” She caught him to her. + +“That wasn’t anything,” climbing into her bed. + +“No, of course not.” But she did not tell the child her whole dream. +There was she, Hester Murray, sitting on a swing that hung high over +the heads of a great crowd of people. In front of her, so that as she +swung, she must touch it, was a flower-covered platform. On it she +saw herself--yes, her very self--in widow’s weeds, holding her boy by +the hand, among a group of people who were crying: “Long live Lord +Levallion!” cheering for the new heir. + +The swing began to move forward, and something made her look over +her shoulder. Behind her, precisely as far away as the flower-decked +platform, so that as she swung back she must touch him, stood the dead +Levallion, in his grave-clothes. He smiled, that smile that had cut +her many a time, and pointed. At his right hand was the gallows, and a +hangman with a black mask. + +The swing flew through the air, touched the platform. The dreamer tried +to jump to it, and found she was tied by a cord. Back, back went the +swing toward the dead man, whose outstretched hand would catch and +hold it fast. Back--with a shriek of torture Hester Murray woke, and +trembled at her child’s touch. + +“I’m a fool!” she thought, now. “It was nightmare. I had nothing to do +with it. I never was in Levallion’s house.” + +But apprehension had her by the throat. If she had dared she would +almost have thrown up her claim and her child’s. But to dare that was +out of her power this three weeks past. + +“I must go out. The air may steady me. I’m nervous.” If it was not too +late she would go to the hospital, for Bob Murray, by some miracle, was +lingering still. Quite gratuitously his quondam wife wished he would +die. Not that it would really matter to her case; she would be rid of +him effectually when she was proved to be the Countess of Levallion, +but if he died quietly, he would not be able to air some small +details that shed no glory on her life in Eaton Place. He might deny +Levallion’s going there till he was black in the face, no one would +believe him. And still she wished feverishly that he was dead. + +But she was too late at the hospital, or too something. The hall +porter informed her that the house surgeon was busy at an operation, +and--having vainly expected a tip at her previous visits--could get her +no information on the case she inquired about, except that the man was +alive. + +Mrs. Murray walked slowly toward Regent Street, that the lights and +the crowd might cheer her. At Berry’s she went in and had dinner, with +reckless extravagance. There was nothing to go home for to-night, and +it would pass the time. + +It had been five o’clock when she started; it was nearer ten than nine +when she got back to Starr Street, her causeless apprehension utterly +gone, and her small, dainty face quite gay. + +“A gentleman is waiting to see you, madam!” The landlady was in the +entry as Mrs. Murray’s latch-key let her in. There was no secret about +her being the Mrs. Murray whose case had electrified London, and the +future Countess of Levallion had everything she chose to ask for in the +squalid lodgings. + +“What gentleman?” The door half-closed, the latch-key half-way to her +pocket, Hester stood. + +“I couldn’t say. I think he was here yesterday.” + +“Oh, yes!” with a little relieved laugh. “My lawyer.” And she went +into the sitting-room with her oddly boyish step suitably adjusted to +smoothness. The door slipped from her hand and banged. + +A tall man, clean-shaven, except for a heavy dark mustache, was pacing +irritably up and down the room. His plain blue serge was exquisitely +cut, but oddly narrow in the chest, as if it had been made for some +other man. + +“How dare you come here?” she said, her clear voice low with fury. +“It’s enough to ruin me.” + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +“You talk nonsense. Have I no sense? If I run any risk it is because +you were out. Did I not say,” angrily, “stay in, stay in, stay in?” His +uplifted hand seemed to threaten her, for she cowered under it. “For +you, there is no risk at all.” + +“You said last night you could not come again. That there was risk!” As +she looked at him her dream came back to her, though he had not been in +it, and her voice came harsh and sudden. + +“What brings you, and where have you been?” + +His hand fell on her slight shoulder. + +“Last night was last night!” he said. “It’s none of your business where +I’ve been, but I don’t mind telling you. Down at Levallion.” + +“Well?” she said, as if it were no news to her. + +“If I hadn’t gone it would not have been well--for you,” he said. +“Though I don’t know. Did you do”--curiously--“what I told you to?” + +“I couldn’t,” carelessly. “I’ve had no chance.” + +“What!” savagely. + +“I couldn’t do it in daylight!” she cried. “I don’t see how I can do it +at all. There’s always some one looking at me. If that’s what you mean, +you were a fool to come here! The thing is safer here than anywhere; it +doesn’t matter in any case.” + +“Get it,” ordered the man, and his face had grown ten years older. +“Since you can’t make yourself safe, I must. Go!” + +“I won’t do anything in the dark,” she said. “How do I know what you +want it for--other people may trust you, I don’t.” + +His hands opened and shut, as if for one second it was hard work to +keep them off her, though he loved her in his way. + +“You can trust me--better than yourself,” he said, close to her ear. +“Listen! I went down to Levallion. I told you I should not, but I did. +And there in broad daylight, with a field-glass, I see Captain Gordon +appear--that black little beast, Sir Thomas; the lawyer. I have no +field-glass for my ears, I cannot make them like my eyes. But----” + +“They’d nothing of yours?” she gasped. + +“No,” softly, but his nails were hurting her shoulder. “But they had of +yours. Had you no sense--did you not know that accursed dog tore your +cloak that night in the wood?” + +“I never looked at it!” she said wildly. + +“Look now, then; for they had a piece of it in their hands. May the +devil burn them for not showing it at the inquest! I’d have--and now +you’ve got it still! Even though I told you to take no chances, to get +rid of it if you had to burn this house down.” + +“They can’t think of me,” hardily. “I was in Boulogne.” + +“How do I know whom they think of?” with sudden fury. “They have gone +back for some reason to the woman they could not trace. I hear from +people that all this time Captain Gordon has been in London. What +brought him back to-day to look at that black-and-gray rag? If I had +not gone down, the police might have fitted it to your cloak.” + +“How dared you come, with Gordon there?” she broke in furiously. “You +should have watched him. He----” + +“He is there, and not here--that is why I came.” And as if her +slowness, her distrust, maddened him, he shook her viciously. “Get the +cloak!” he cried, “and I’ll save you yet. The police may be on you +to-morrow. You will only have me and my field-glass to thank if they do +not find it.” + +“If they do, I didn’t do--it,” she said, and then ran, for his eyes +were full of murder. + +“Take it!” she gasped, coming back again, throwing down a black satin +cloak, lined with chinchilla. “I wish I’d never seen you!” + +“I dare say you do--Lady Levallion!” he said sardonically. “Hester +Murray told another story. Good night, and thank me you dare to sleep.” + +But when he was gone she had no thought of sleep. For two days she had +loved the man who had just gone out; and now she hated him, because +she knew she would never get rid of him till she died. She ran to the +window to see where he had gone; stared out; dropped the half-raised +blind and staggered, more than started back to the middle of the room, +as if the quiet street had been the pit of hell. + +“The dream!” she thought wildly. “But I’ve time!” Something took her +at the throat. The man held everything in his hands, her money, her +position, her---- But it was not being Countess of Levallion that was +in her thoughts as she ran from the room, but life--bare life--that +garbled lie could take away from her. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + +ARRESTED. + + +“Hold on,” said a quick voice, in the dark, and Adrian Gordon stopped +short; “I’m coming, too.” + +For after a comfortable dinner in Monsieur Carrousel’s best manner he +had strolled out, ostensibly to take a walk, really to go as hard as he +could to the station and catch the first train for Starr Street. + +“There’s no sense in your coming,” he said sharply, and Sir Thomas +returned no answer. “And you can’t bring Jacobs. He’ll be a nuisance.” + +“I’m coming, all the same,” obstinately; “and I can’t leave Jacobs +behind. Carrousel might pour boiling water on him or something. Don’t +hurry so! You want to catch the express, not the slow train that +goes first. Oh, Gordon!” wretchedly, “don’t you see I must be doing +something? You can’t leave me behind to hatch out rot about a cook and +a boot-boy.” + +“Come on, then,” weakening; and in silence the two trudged through the +country lanes on their way to London, detectives, Hester Murray. + +“I don’t know why you’re creeping away like this,” said Tommy suddenly, +as they neared the country station; “but that’s another reason I came. +I’ve a mileage ticket. We can get in without any one seeing us.” And +they did, with Jacobs smuggled under the seat. + +“There’s the slow train now!” he said, after they had been some ten +minutes out of the station. “It stops here to pick up some carriages +and gets in five minutes after we do.” They flashed past the rows of +lighted windows as he spoke. + +“Glad we did not strike it,” said Adrian, for the sake of saying +something, for five minutes more or less would make a difference in the +night’s work. But they lost it, all the same, for at Paddington a short +man in shooting-clothes hailed Gordon loudly from a waiting-room. + +“My dear chap!” he cried effusively, “where have you been?” + +“How are you?” said Adrian hurriedly. “I’ve been--you heard about +Levallion?” + +“I forgot,” the man returned awkwardly. “But I wanted to see you. Come +here a second,” and he drew the reluctant Adrian into the cloak-room. + +“Hang him!” said Tommy, dragging Jacobs after them by his chain. “Now +we’ll be all night.” + +For he knew well enough who the man was. A certain distinguished +general who could not be shaken off till he had said his say. + +Sir Thomas stared and fretted at the cloak-room window. Not that he had +any business in Starr Street, but it was a comfort to be even following +a shadow. All at once he ducked down, rushed across the room to Adrian. +“Come on,” he said, in a savage whisper, for he had seen what he never +hoped to see on earth. Out of an incoming train had stepped that +very man whom he had seen on that rock in the moonlight, whom Jacobs +had frightened into unseemly skips and yells. Tall, dark-mustached, +leisurely, with a curiously square line of shaven cheek and chin, the +man had paused against a lamp-post, as Tommy had seen him against the +moon. + +“Come on!” he cried, oblivious of the stout general. “I’ve seen him.” + +“Who?” blankly. + +“How do I know?” white to the lips. “The man we want. Come on.” + +But he had no need to urge it. Adrian was out of the cloak-room as fast +as he could go. The general, being a sensible man in the main, said +nothing. Merely stepped to the door and beheld the vanishing figures of +Captain Gordon, a boy, and a dog, running down the empty platform. For, +whoever the man had been, he was gone. + +At the street corner the two stared every way in the dull gaslight. +There were plenty of foot-passengers, and among them the man was +lost. Mr. Jacobs stood waving his long white tail, his benevolent +white-and-brindle face beaming. Suddenly he put his nose down to the +ground and sniffed; then he tugged at his chain. + +“Let him go,” said Adrian, for as the dog sniffed the ground his whole +look had changed. His ears flattened to his head, his back bristling, +he was nearly dragging Tommy off his feet. + +“It’s some one the dog has known before,” said Adrian, as they hurried +through the streets. “Where did you get him?” + +“Found him on the road with a broken rib.” + +In and out through the traffic, down by-streets, Jacobs ran. And by a +way Adrian had not known existed brought up in Starr Street. He had +thought it ten minutes’ walk to the station; by Jacobs’ way it was not +five. As the dog would have rushed to Hester Murray’s door and barked +the street down, Adrian caught him back. + +“Wait,” he muttered. “Come over opposite.” + +Tommy picked up the struggling dog and the three, unnoticed, mounted +“Mr. Atkinson’s” stairs. There on the blind opposite they saw a shadow, +dwarfed, ridiculous, but still the shadow of a man. + +“Is that Mrs. Murray’s room?” said Tommy, and Gordon nodded. + +“Wait,” he said; “she isn’t there.” + +For the man had come to the window, and as he fumbled with the blind +it snapped out of his hand and flew up. The next second he dragged it +down again, but Tommy had seen him. + +“It’s the man I saw on the rock!” he cried, trembling. + +“And it’s my man of last night,” grimly. “Some town friend of Hester’s +who’d been in the country on an errand she dared not do. So much for +you and your cook, Tommy!” + +“Aren’t you going to do anything?” impatiently. + +Adrian gave a short laugh. Hester Murray, in her trailing black, was +going up her own steps. + +“Now I am!” he said. “I was waiting for her. You stay here, and if she +comes out see where she goes. I’m going to take a cab and drive like +blazes for Allington’s detective--who pooh-poohed the idea of her--and +a search-warrant. If that cloak’s in her house, I think we have your +man and woman.” + +For it had suddenly come over him that at the time of Levallion’s death +Mrs. Murray had not known about Maurice Davidge, or that she could have +any claim on Levallion. Living here, so near the station, it would have +been simple enough for her to go down by the seven-o’clock train and +back by the midnight. Her alibi would be secure; her landlady would +only think she had dined out. She need not get out at Levallion’s +station, even; two miles farther on there was a siding where every +train stopped for water. Through the fields from there it would not be +half a mile to the castle. She knew the house well enough to pass out +and in unseen. + +Tommy, craning out of the window, saw him vanish down the street. And +then his heart leaped. The man was coming out of the house opposite +with a bundle under his arm. As the door opened the boy’s head +disappeared just in time. He made for the door and got tangled up with +Jacobs; picked himself up and ran into the street, forgetting all about +Mrs. Murray. The man was just disappearing round the corner in the +very opposite direction from the one Adrian had taken. But there was +no time to wait for reenforcements. He was certain that bundle was the +cloak that Adrian wanted. Helter-skelter, boy and dog tore along. Lost +the man, saw him again as he crossed the Paddington Road with a bundle +under his arm, ran into a man with an umbrella who wasted profanity on +them, and pulled up. The man had vanished. Tommy pressed Jacobs’ nose +to the pavement. + +“Hi, fetch him, good dog!” he muttered, knowing quite well he was +asking almost an impossibility of the dog in a place where so many +people walked. But Jacobs whined, ran back a little, sniffed, and was +off, Tommy running beside him. + +Across the Paddington Road, into dark by-streets, to the vile slums by +St. Mary’s Hospital, the dog led him. Into an open door and up-stairs +in a filthy, greasy tenement-house; up and up to the very garret. The +place was pitch-dark, sickening; the stairs riddled with rat-holes. +Jacobs stopped pulling at his chain and gave a low growl. In the quiet +it sounded loud enough to wake the dead. + +Tommy clutched his jaws frantically. + +“Quiet!” he said, through his teeth. On his hands and knees he crawled +till he could crawl no farther. A reeking, moldy wall enclosed the +landing, and the very silence of death was round him. + +He knew perfectly that it was in houses like this that men were +murdered, but he never moved to grope his way to the stairs again. +The dog panted in his arms, stiffening fiercely. Suddenly there came +a footstep, in his very ear where he crouched against the wall. A man +was moving softly on the other side of the partition, and before he +could think a door opened back on him, almost crushing him, and if it +had been forward it would have taken more than Jacobs to save Tommy +Annesley. A man came out, without any bundle, stood while he closed and +locked the door. A candle was burning inside, and the light of it shone +on him as he deliberately pushed the door to. The next instant, in the +pitch-dark, Jacobs sprang, silent as death, and well-nigh as strong. + +Down the rickety stairs the two flew, like some horrible dream. Twice +Jacobs lost his hold, and got it again. In any other house the people +would have swarmed out of every room, but in Bethnal Court lived +human wolves, in by day and out by night. With a wild spring the man +reached the open door into the court, slipped with a crash on the slimy +stones outside; Tommy, tearing down, flew head over heels over him; +Jacobs--but the boy knew no more. + +And Adrian Gordon stood at that minute in Starr Street, knowing not +which way to turn. Tommy and Jacobs were gone, Heaven knew where--and +Hester Murray’s rooms held no one. She was gone, and he knew she would +never come back again. Gone in the clothes she wore, taking her child +with her, thinking only of bare life. Warned, somehow, for if she had +ever owned that cloak she had taken it with her. + +“Better give it up, sir,” said the detective--whom he had lost +everything by waiting to get; “they’ve given you the slip.” + +Gordon stared at him as if he did not see him. + +“We’ve got to find the boy,” he said. “There was a man in there; he +must have followed him.” + +But though all night long the two walked the streets, haunted +police-stations, asked questions, they found not a single trace of +Tommy and Mr. Jacobs. + +At sunrise Gordon stood alone on a street corner, for the much-tried +detective had struck. He had lost Tommy, had lost Hester and probably +that cloak whose useless shred he held in his hands; had probably +let slip in his stupidity the only chance he had ever had of saving +Ravenel. He shivered in the morning air. For there was a girl in +Valehampton Jail who had borne enough. How was she to bear this? + +A policeman in plain clothes tapped his shoulder; another, as by a +miracle, sprang up in front of him. + +He was arrested as accessory before the fact to the murder of Lord +Levallion. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + +MR. JACOBS. + + +A sound of running feet, a shrill whistle, was what Sir Thomas +Annesley dreamed of where he lay on the greasy cobblestones after his +somersault; and then a strong hand on his collar that was real, and +jerked him into consciousness. A policeman was bending over him, and +had Jacobs by his chain. + +“Hi, sir!” he cried, “do you know your dog’s nearly killed a man?” + +Tommy stared at him, and saw no one but the policeman, the quivering +Jacobs. After everything had the man got away? + +“You’ve let him go!” he exclaimed, and between his fall and anger +turned sick. “Why didn’t you come before? I never saw one policeman all +the way here.” + +It is said that every man has his price; it is certain he has his +weakness. The policeman’s happened to be bull-terriers. A flying +glimpse of this one and his master tearing along streets where a +well-dressed boy seldom came and a well-bred dog only too often, had +sent him after them, though he had not seen they were following any +one. In Bethnal Court he came on them. The dog standing over a man who +lay on his face, the boy a crumpled heap on the stones. + +Policeman Garrety, being a dog-fancier first and an officer afterward, +took the chain that trailed behind Jacobs. + +The dog never even growled, but came quietly to him as he was ordered. + +“That’s queer,” the man said to himself. “There ain’t no ‘vicious-dog’ +business here. That young sprig must have set him on!” He roused Sir +Thomas with a less gentle hand than he had laid on Mr. Jacobs. And the +boy’s first words were angrily, unconsciously authoritative. + +“Why on earth couldn’t you keep him? Here’s everything wasted,” he +cried. “Go and look for him, quick.” + +The man laughed. + +“I haven’t far to go,” he said. “You’re a bit knocked out still. +There’s the man,” with a backward jerk of his head. “But what brought +you and your dog down here? It wasn’t accident, for I saw you coming +here. Don’t you know you haven’t no right to come to such places? If +you hadn’t had that dog, and I hadn’t noticed you, you’d not likely +have come out alive. Did French Pete set on you, or what?” + +“Did what?” said Tommy. He had turned long ago and seen a dark figure +lying on the stones just as it had fallen. He staggered over to it, +dizzy and sick. + +“He isn’t dead, is he?” he said sharply, not taking in a word of what +the policeman was saying. “I don’t want him to die; I want him alive.” + +The policeman looked at the man on the stones. Six feet in his +stockings, girthed like a pony, and this slim-legged kid was coolly +remarking that he “wanted him alive.” + +“He’s that, right enough,” he observed. “It’s French Pete, and he’s +only knocked out. You’d better tell me what it all means, sir! I’ve +whistled for another man, and the ambulance to take him away,” +significantly. For if he owned a valuable bull-terrier he would not run +the risk of having him destroyed as dangerous on account of carrion +like the man on the ground. + +“It’s who?” said Tommy. + +“French Pete!” sharply. If the boy was fool enough to stay, it was his +own fault if he lost the dog. Mr. Garrety, for all his uniform, pined +to lay hands on him himself. + +“Let me see his face,” cried Tommy thickly, and as the man turned the +unconscious head in the light of a pocket lantern, Sir Thomas gurgled +unintelligibly in his throat. + +It was the man he had seen in the wood, the man he had followed from +Mrs. Murray’s--and ever since the policeman had called him by a strange +name he had been mad with fear that Jacobs had pinned some other man. +But this was he. Looked at closely, he was dark-haired, square-chinned, +and blue with constant shaving; oddly like a gentleman in the pallor of +his faint. + +The policeman, on his knees, went through French Pete’s pockets with +accustomed fingers. + +“Look!” he said, and held up something. “That’s the sort of man he is! +Now, what in the world had you to do with him?” + +The boy stared, snatched at the dusky object that lay in an immaculate +handkerchief, held it to the face on Policeman Garrety’s arm. + +“It’s him!” he screamed. + +For the mystery lay before him of who had worn Adrian Gordon’s clothes. + +He turned wildly on the astounded policeman. + +“Go up-stairs,” he cried; “up to the very top. He left a parcel up +there; that’s why I followed him. It’s a----” but he stopped. It was +only guesswork about that parcel. But something else came to him--the +intuition of why this man had come here at all. + +“I think you’ll find more up there than a parcel,” he said quite +quietly, and he poured out the whole story that had been irrelevant +scraps an hour ago, and now dovetailed into a neat whole. All except +what was in the parcel, for in his hurry he forgot it. But he said +enough to send Garrety up-stairs on the run. + +“You stay here,” the man said as he went. “Here’s my whistle. You blow +it if he stirs. But he won’t; he landed on his head,” and he was gone +as Tommy caught the whistle. + +The house was empty now, but in another hour the inmates would be +strolling back, and one policeman in Bethnal Court would be extremely +likely to get his head broken. + +Tommy sat in a cold sweat on the greasy stones. His head was swimming, +and it seemed to him as if the prostrate man before him was moving. He +got up, staggered, tried to blow the whistle, and fell in a dead faint. +His triumph was slipping through his fingers. + +A woman sauntered into the yard and nearly walked over him. Jacobs +growled, and then yelled. With wild barks and whines he danced round +her, slobbered over her dirty hands, and she screamed. The next instant +she had the dog round the neck, dragged him to the gaslight at the +entrance of the court, and after one look fell to hugging him. + +“Jack! it’s Jack!” she cried. “My Jack, that I’ve never seen since +that devil half-killed him and left him on the road. Oh, my dog, my +dog!” and the tears that had long since dried up in her miserable eyes +streamed down now. + +Long ago, when Moll Price had been “Pretty Molly” in her village, she +had been given a bull-terrier puppy. When she ran away with a man who +said he was a gentleman, and turned out to be a devil, she had taken +the dog. And the man she loved had beaten her and her dog; had dragged +them over half of England, living by their wits, poor, driven to tramp +the roads, till one day he had struck her once too often, and the +half-grown terrier bit him. Many and many a time in her dreams had Moll +Price seen the brutal kick that broke the dog’s ribs, the blow on the +head that stunned him; many a time felt the strong hand that hurried +her away, powerless, leaving her only friend dead on a country road. + +She had been half-drunk when she entered the yard; she was sober as she +remembered she had stumbled over a man; a fierce hope rose in her as he +ran back to the place. + +After three years of freedom her master had found her out, had come to +her with a heavy hand and a story she knew was a lie. Could that be he +that lay upon the stones, and had Jack had his revenge at last? For she +knew the blood the dog had shed, blood that never forgot or forgave. + +She fumbled in her pocket, found a match, lit it. + +“It’s him!” she cried, with fierce rejoicing, “and I hope he’s dead.” + +She looked at the senseless boy beside him in his gentleman’s clothes, +at the dog that ran from her to him and licked his face. + +“There’s been queer work here!” she thought soberly, for French Pete’s +torn clothes told their tale. “But they sha’n’t find out and kill Jack. +They’re cruel hard on dogs in London, and he wasn’t muzzled. They’d +take him for that alone.” + +She was a strong woman; she lifted the boy easily enough, called the +dog in a whisper, and went into the house. But not far. A footstep, too +well-shod to belong to any of the inmates, caught her ears. She laid +the boy flat under the stairs, crawled in beside him with the dog in +her arms. After what seemed an hour, the heavy footsteps clumped down +over her head and went out. Even then she dared not move. It would take +all she knew to get this boy up to her room without having to be quick. + +Outside in the court Policeman Garrety stood dumfounded. Boy and dog +had vanished, but that he had half-expected, and whatever he had found +up-stairs it was not what he had been told was there. But French Pete, +who had lain like a log, was gone, too. + +He stumped away beside the useless ambulance, and was only sure he had +not dreamed the whole thing because of a parcel he held under his arm. + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + +AT THE HINGES OF DEATH. + + +“Adrian and I! I and Adrian!” + +Lady Levallion had reason to look like a dead woman as she stood in +court, and looked once--but once--round the sea of hostile and curious +faces. Not till her own lawyers had begged for an adjournment on +account of the absence of one of their principal witnesses--and been +refused--did she know that Tommy was missing, and the grip of despair +caught her as she heard it. Not on her own account, for Tommy had +little enough to say that would help her, but for sheer terror that the +boy was hurt or killed somewhere in London. + +When they had told her that she was not to stand alone in the dock, +but Adrian as well, she had never said a word, had never glanced at +him all the time in court, but now, when the prosecution had finished, +she looked at his face and saw there what she knew. Unless there was a +miracle from the skies they two would be found guilty. + +“Adrian and I,” she kept repeating to herself, and her cold hands grew +wet. + +For the prosecution had swept away any and every chance for them. + +The housekeeper, against her will, had been forced to confess what was +quite true, that Lady Levallion had often come to the still-room and +learned to make distilled waters. The coroner swore that such a water +made from laurel-leaves had killed Lord Levallion, and every servant in +the house at the time of the murder had proved they had nothing to do +with it. + +And slowly, with silky questions, the prosecution showed their reasons +for arresting Captain Gordon as her accomplice. His supposed alibi in +London on the night of the murder did not hold water. He had dined with +a man at a restaurant, it was true, but between that and the card-party +at his own rooms there had been three hours unaccounted for. And those +three hours could easily have taken him to Levallion Castle and back. +And the very absence of Sir Thomas Annesley was made into the certainty +that the boy was staying away on purpose, lest he should have to repeat +his evidence of seeing Captain Gordon in a wood in those very tweed +clothes of which a piece had been found in Levallion’s room. No one +could prove Captain Gordon had not been in the wood, and the theory of +a stranger in his clothes was shown to be absurd. His tailor, beyond +the fact that Captain Gordon owed him fifty pounds, could say nothing +as to what he had made for him. The only entry in his books were +uniforms and “tweeds, fifteen guineas.” Nothing else. Adrian remembered +that he had never had a bill for the clothes, and on saying that +fifteen guineas could not possibly represent one suit alone, was shown +that it easily could. + +As for any tale of a strange woman being seen hanging about Levallion +Castle, it was openly laughed at. Lord Chayter, who swore to the face +at the window, had to confess that Levallion had assured him he was +mistaken. And in the absence of Sir Thomas Annesley there was no one to +prove that woman in the wood had not been Lady Levallion herself. She +had certainly left the drawing-room. + +The terms on which the prisoners were left no room for doubt; indeed, +they had openly discussed the death of Lord Levallion--one of them +had made no bones about speaking of poison. And the winding up of the +matter was this: In the wood at night the two had arranged matters. +Captain Gordon had come down from London unknown to any one but Lady +Levallion, had poisoned with laurel water given him by her a bottle +of Eau de Vie Magique which he had brought with him--for such another +bottle had been found in his London rooms--and had been frightened by +Sir Thomas’ dog into going away without these two incriminating bottles +found in Lady Levallion’s bedroom. The prosecution did not mean to say +that the guilty pair had foreseen that night would give them their +opportunity--merely that on being put into their hands they had made +use of it. Probably Captain Gordon had come merely to see his cousin’s +wife clandestinely, but that the two had been overcome by temptation +could not be doubted. + +No one but Lady Levallion could have placed those bottles in her +bedroom, as no servant had been away from the others during the +evening, and no one of the guests but Lady Gwendolen Brook--who had +cleared herself by being able to relate the exact words of a quarrel +between Lord and Lady Levallion in the lower hall, a quarrel of which +Lacy also was cognizant. + +Surely no intelligent juror could doubt which way the evidence tended. +As for bringing in an innocent woman like Mrs. Murray, the prosecution +had nothing but contempt for so far-fetched a story. If Sir Thomas +Annesley had a piece of the cloak which Captain Gordon, on no evidence +whatever, supposed to be Mrs. Murray’s, why was he not in court to +produce it? It seemed that he had excellent reason to stay away. + +And to all this Ravenel’s lawyer had nothing to reply, except that +letter from the Pension Bocage and that mouse-eaten telegram. He spun +them out as long as he could, and to no earthly purpose. Ravenel, in +the dock, never looked up, but only prayed he would be done--make an +end, and let her get back to prison out of the range of those countless +eyes that lost not one line in her anguished face. + +But Adrian Gordon--and the court wondered at his shameless +bearing--stood staring at his own lawyer, who would not look at him. + +There was a stir in the court, but Gordon’s face was turned from the +door. Only Monsieur Carrousel, standing, an idle and pitiful spectator, +who might be cross-questioned by the defense on a subject of which he +knew nothing, suddenly changed color and moved loungingly to the door. +But the packed room would not make way for him. + +“My lord,” said Ravenel’s lawyer suddenly, as if something for which +he had been waiting had happened, “we can now produce our missing +witnesses!” And Adrian thought the man had gone suddenly crazy, for he +called Pierre Carrousel. + +And Carrousel, after one glance behind him, came with a light laugh. +Yet the first question astonished him, for it was about Towers, the +boot-boy. + +“I took him to his place,” he said jauntily; “there I left him. The +housekeeper heard from him the next morning. I know no more.” + +“In that case,” returned Ravenel’s counsel, “you can step down. I will +call Mary Price.” + +Carrousel turned livid, tried to leave the room, and found his way +unaccountably blocked by a strange policeman. + +And all the while Adrian Gordon stared, as if the world had suddenly +gone mad. + +“Do you know any one in this court-room?” The question made the new +witness, a woman in soiled finery, look at him contemptuously. + +“I know him!” she cried, and she pointed, not at Adrian Gordon, as the +crowd expected, but at Lord Levallion’s innocent cook. “That’s what I +come for. My name is Mary Price, and I lived with him for three years, +till he deserted me. My father kept a public house in Southsea, and I +was barmaid. I ran away with this man, who said his name was Archer. He +ill-treated me, took me to a London slum, and lived on what I earned.” + +Carrousel interrupted coolly. He had had time to glance round the +court, and saw no newcomer but Mary Price. The missing links in the +defense were missing still. + +“I never saw this woman in my life!” he cried. “She is a liar! My name +never was Archer--never! She cannot know me.” + +The woman gave him a deadly glance. + +“I never said your name was Archer,” she said coolly; “only that you +told me it was. And if I don’t know you, why--there’s some one else who +will! Am I to go on, sir?” to the lawyer, who nodded. + +“What his real name is, I don’t know,” she said, “but the people where +we lived in London called him French Pete. He’d got tired of me, and I +hated him, for he’d killed my dog that I’d brought from home, made me +leave him for dead on a country road--we were tramping to London then. +After he left me I saw nothing of him for a year; then I met him in the +street dressed like a gentleman. He gave me money, and found out where +I lived. I was pretty low, and I was afraid of him besides. + +“Just a week ago he came to my room and brought a boy. Said he’d been +cruelly treated in his place, and would I look after him. He’d pay me. +And I did. But the boy seemed so queer that I was afraid to leave him +alone--stupidlike and terrified. When I went out I’d put him in a loft +there was over my room. The ceiling was all cracked and stained, and no +one would see the trap. I put him there because from what he talked of +in his sleep I knew Archer meant him no good. The boy knew something. +And, for fear Archer would get in while I was out and do away with him +and say it was me, I used to keep him hid away most of the time. He was +up there when Garrety broke in my room that night and got the paper +parcel.” + +Not a soul knew what she meant. The prosecution had never heard of +Policeman Garrety, any more than had Adrian Gordon, and the former was +ill-advised enough to say so. + +“That’s him there!” said Miss Price, “and perhaps it’d be better for +him to speak before I go on.” Which was allowed, after some dispute, +and at the policeman’s evidence Carrousel stood like a creature +demented. + +“Certainly I know that man,” he said simply, “I’ve known him for years +as French Pete, the best cook in London when he chose to work. But I +know him better without his beard,” and before Carrousel could move +he had leaned backward to a brother policeman, who coolly tweaked the +chestnut beard from the cook’s face. + +A confused murmur ran round the court, and Adrian Gordon stood more +confounded than Carrousel. Tommy had been right--it was that man, and +no other, he had seen going into Hester Murray’s house. + +“It was like that I see him lying stunned like in Bethnal Court near a +week ago,” pursued the policeman calmly, and it was Allington’s turn to +start, for he had never dreamed that Carrousel had ever left Levallion +Castle since the night he knew of, “and there was a dog standing over +him and a boy beside him. And when I emptied his pockets and held his +false beard to his face the boy calls out Carrousel, and says if I went +up-stairs I’d find another boy that he had detected, and a parcel he’d +just left there. There was no boy, and I come down, and there wasn’t a +soul in the court--French Pete, nor the boy, nor the dog! But I’d got +the parcel right enough, and here it is.” He produced before the whole +court a black satin cloak lined with chinchilla. + +And cross-examination failed to get anything more out of him except +that not until yesterday had he known that the cloak he had left at +Scotland Yard was wanted in this trial. + +“I ain’t no detective,” he said quietly, “I never leave my beat. And +yesterday it took me to Bethnal Court, and there I found out. The girl +will tell you that it was I kicked her door down for her no later than +yesterday afternoon. I don’t know nothing of what went between.” + +“I do,” said Molly Price, and she swallowed in her throat as at a +memory that hurt her. “That night Garrety tells of I come into Bethnal +Court on my way home. I live there. And as I was going into the house +I fell over something. I saw ’twas Archer, or French Pete, or whatever +he chose to call himself, and I thought he was dead. And then a dog--my +dog that I thought he killed long ago,” tears blinding her--“jumped +at me! He knew me after all those years, just as he’d known Archer. I +know there’d been bad work by the look of Archer’s clothes, and I was +afraid for my Jack if they found him. I looked at the boy that was +lying on the ground in a faint, and I felt kindly toward him because +Jack seemed to love him--and I said to myself he shouldn’t get into no +trouble either. So I took them up to my room--after waiting awhile, +because I heard some one up there, and if I’d known all I do now I’d +have come out that second--and there they’ve been ever since. First +Towers was like to die, but Sir Thomas worked over him night and day.” + +“Towers!” Adrian Gordon’s face grew like that of a man who sees a hope +dawning, very faint and far, but still hope. Ravenel never looked up. +She knew nothing about the boot-boy. + +“And then?” came a question. + +“Well, it wasn’t till yesterday that we got Towers to talk, and then +we’d never nearly got here at all,” grimly. “Sir Thomas had no money, +but I’d sixpence, and when he was going out to wire to you that he’d +found out Towers, why, we couldn’t get out! Archer’d put some dodge +on my door so he could open it from outside, and it had got out of +order. We couldn’t get the door open, and kicking was no good, for it +opened inside. Nobody heard us yelling, for there was a row in the +house down-stairs. And that really let us out, for Garrety was there +professionally”--calmly--“and he heard me shouting ‘Help!’ and come +and knocked the door in. So here we comes this morning. It wouldn’t +have been any use to let strangers and police know we was there before, +for Towers was frightened, and wouldn’t talk. But he isn’t now.” And +Towers, white and weak from what had nearly wrecked his brain, stood up +before the court. + +Carrousel glared at him. But the eyes he had once obeyed dumbly had +lost their power. The boot-boy quivered, but he spoke: + +“I was the boot-boy,” he began timidly. “I did the cook’s errands. He +told me----” + +“He lies!” yelled Carrousel, shaking his fist. “I beat and beat him +because he was a liar, and lazy.” + +“You have not heard the lie yet,” said the judge coldly. “Another word, +and you leave.” + +“He can’t hurt me, can he?” cried Towers pitifully. “Sir Thomas said he +couldn’t.” + +“He can’t touch you. Go on,” said the lawyer kindly. + +“He told me to pick some laurel-leaves, bunches of them. He said they +were to decorate the table. But I heard some one in the still-room +while I was cleaning boots, and I looked in. He was chopping them up +and making something. He didn’t know there was a door in the boot-hole +till I creaked it and he saw me. Then Sir Thomas’ dog was poisoned, and +I said to the cook that perhaps he’d got at what he was making. For +everybody knows laurel-water is poison.” + +A thrill ran through the court as he described the preparation of +that devilish decoction of prussic acid that every one thought Lady +Levallion had made. But Towers did not see. + +“He beat me,” he said simply, “and said if I said one word he’d say +it was me. And two of the kitchen-maids had seen me with the laurel +leaves, only they didn’t know they was poison. And I thought I might +be wrong, for the dog got well. I’d forgotten it, when one night late +the footman brought the dirty boots, and I sat down in the boot-hole +to clean them. I saw the cook’s white jacket and apron in there behind +the door, and I picked them up because I thought he’d beat me if I +got blacking on them. I had them in my hand when the boot-hole door +opened and in he come. He closed the door behind him quick and soft, +and I heard a dog go by, and he stood there fetching his breath. He +had on a tweed suit with a bit tore out of the trousers. He never said +a word--just grabbed his jacket and apron that I was holding, and put +them on. Then he puts his fingers on my eyes and forehead just as he’d +done once before, the day he beat me about the laurel-water. + +“‘You don’t know nothing,’ he says, and he slips just as quiet as +nothing through that door into the still-room. I began to feel as if +I hadn’t seen him, and yet I knew I had. But whenever anybody asked +me anything I couldn’t seem to answer them. I just had to say, ‘I +don’t know nothing.’ But after that I wouldn’t let him touch my face. +I’d lie down and hide it, and let him beat me nearly to death. Once +Sir Thomas caught him at it. He’d nearly got me that time. It sounds +crazy,” apologetically, “but it seemed to me it was his hands on my +face that made me say what he told me. I knew all the time it was him +changed the bottles and put one in her ladyship’s room, for I see him +put the laurel-water into a little blue bottle the day he made it, and +’twas that they found in her ladyship’s room. But I couldn’t tell--and +then he took me to London because he said they was saying I killed his +lordship, and he wanted to save me. He’d stopped beating me and got +kind. But when he left me at a lady’s house he told me not to stay +there, as it was there they’d look for me. I ran out the kitchen door, +and that’s all I know”--wearily--“till I sort of woke up and saw Sir +Thomas and a woman. I didn’t hardly know I was myself till I saw those +trousers the cook give me.” + +“What trousers?” said the prosecuting attorney, and the next second was +sorry he had spoken. + +“The torn ones he was dressed up in, that he’d stolen from Captain +Gordon,” said the witness stolidly. “He told me Captain Gordon had give +them to him, but I knew he took them, because I saw him coming out of +his room with them, and I knowed he’d no call to be there. When there +was that fuss about them he made me put them on in the posting-shed +and wear them up to London. I’ve got ’em on now”--simply--“and I found +these two letters down the leg,” producing the Umbrella’s useless, +well-meant warnings. + +“Why did you write from London that you were happy?” said the +prosecution sharply. + +“Me?” said Towers. “Lord, sir, I can’t write.” + +In a dead silence the Umbrella’s letters were read out, the letters +that proved it had been past and not present meetings for Lady +Levallion and Adrian Gordon. And then, with damning proof against +Carrousel and against the missing Hester Murray, it was shown that +Towers’ supposed epistle and the letter from the pension in Boulogne +were both in the same writing. And the telegram found in the mouse-hole +fitted in with both--for if Adrian’s detectives had not found Hester +Murray they had found that she had never been in Boulogne at all, +and that the Pension Bocage was kept by Carrousel’s sister. Adrian’s +letter of inquiry had been forwarded to him, and his answer posted in +Boulogne. Sir Thomas Annesley swore positively that the clean-shaven +Carrousel was the man he had seen in the wood and taken for Gordon. He +had known him in Paddington Station before he followed him to Bethnal +Court. + +The counsel for the Crown observed somewhat hastily that, even +supposing Lord Levallion’s chef had been guilty of his death, there was +no possible reason for supposing Mrs. Murray to have been the woman +seen with him in the wood by Sir Thomas Annesley. No one had identified +her, or the cloak as her property. To bring in her name was not only +guesswork, but malicious slander--and Tommy interrupted by saying he +had seen Carrousel take the cloak from her house. + +In the wrangle that ensued Houghton caught the duchess’ arm. + +“Who’s that woman?” he whispered. “Isn’t it she?” + +The duchess followed his eyes. + +There stood Lady Annesley, emerged from her Harrogate retirement, +perfectly dressed, and calm as a lake. + +Ravenel looked up with a sick shudder and met the pale eyes of the +woman without whom she would have been Adrian’s wife. What brought +Sylvia here? Sylvia! + +“My lord,” said Lady Annesley, addressing the judge, and scorning the +jury, “I have just heard it said that Hester Murray is an innocent +woman. I have brought something in her own handwriting which may throw +a light on that, and first, if you will allow me, I will tell you how I +came by it. I was not well; I saw no papers until last week, and then +I read of the apprehension of my stepdaughter for the murder of her +husband, and that other case in which Mrs. Murray claimed the title of +Lady Levallion. + +“I was not on good terms with my stepdaughter”--and the court, knowing +why, believed her--“neither she nor any one else had written to me of +the dreadful death of Lord Levallion. But, good terms or not”--and +Sylvia’s cleverness had not left her--“I was certain it was impossible +for her to have committed such a crime. It occurred to me that there +was one woman who, with Levallion in his grave, could do what she +would not have dared while he lived. I went from Harrogate to London; +to the address given as Mrs. Murray’s in the papers, and she was not +there. That made me certain she had reason to disappear, and I had +reason”--slowly--“to guess where she had gone. She had a son, whom she +chooses to call the present Lord Levallion, and I knew that the boy had +spent most of his childhood with an old nurse in a wild part of Wales. +I went there, on the chance. I waited till night; I looked in the +window, and there in the old woman’s kitchen sat two women and a boy. I +may tell you that I had a hold on Hester Murray. I went in and--did not +use it! This gentleman will tell you what happened.” + +She waved her hand to a man, and the court stared as they saw the +ablest detective in England come forward. + +“You see, my story does not stand alone.” + +Mr. David’s story was short enough, perhaps, only Lady Annesley did not +see that it was pitiful. + +“I went to Wales,” he said quietly, “Lady Annesley’s story to me having +confirmed something already told me by Captain Gordon. We found Mrs. +Murray in a farmhouse. She had not been well for some time, her hurried +flight, her trouble, and a chill had brought on pneumonia. When we +reached her she was sitting by the fire, a dying woman, who should have +been in her bed. Lady Annesley has told you she had a hold on her. I +may tell you there was no need for it. Mrs. Murray knew she was dying, +had written a letter already to clear herself from any share in the +death of Lord Levallion that might accrue to her. In fact, she turned +queen’s evidence before she died.” + +There was not a sound as he read that strange, self-excusing letter, +which told how she and no other had been living in the bungalow all +summer. How Lord Levallion had shaken her off, and how she had formed +the acquaintance in her evening hauntings of Levallion Castle, of a +tall, dark man named Carrousel. + +“He fell in love with me,” Hester Murray’s hand had written, in the +terror of that death which neither judge nor jury had brought on her; +“he used to come and see me, and bring me things--Levallion’s flowers, +fruit--anything he could lay hands on. And I found out easily enough +that he hated Levallion. One wet night I came home. I had been looking +in the windows at Levallion Castle. I was watching Lady Levallion and +Captain Gordon, and Levallion caught me. He was so angry I thought +he would kill me. I was beside myself, distraught, and in my house +Carrousel was waiting for me. I told him all my story--that I knew +then. For it was not till Levallion was dead that I heard about John +Davidge. + +“And Carrousel said it was a very simple business to pay Levallion out +in his own coin. All I need do, he said, was to go away to London and +let Levallion know it. I could take a lodging near the station, and +come up and down every night unobserved if I got off at the siding. It +did not matter, he said, how circumspect Lady Levallion and Captain +Gordon chose to be, if he and I could play their parts, and two nights +after I met him in the wood dressed in Adrian Gordon’s clothes. When +first he came up behind me I screamed, for I thought it was Gordon +himself. He showed me a telegram from his sister in Boulogne; he was +to describe me, and she would say I had been there all summer. He had +champagne; we drank to the health of the new Lord Levallion, my son; to +Captain Gordon and Lady Levallion, who would put the Levallion I hated +out of the world; and I thought he meant it. Before God, I did not know +what was in Carrousel’s head till it was done, and he came to me and +told me that my cloak might bring me into it,” and perhaps when she +wrote it she believed it. + +In the first hush that followed Carrousel leaned forward. + +“She says I killed him,” he said quietly. “Perhaps I did. But the +woman who wrote that letter put it in my mind. She knew nothing, she +says”--and the venom in his face was unspeakable--“she knew she told +me that she was the true Lady Levallion, who had been wronged and +betrayed; that if I avenged her she would marry me! She laughed when I +said in the wood that night how I could avenge her. Laughed then--and +afterward, when I told her it was done, and how--put her fingers in her +ears, and said she had no hand in it. A man has just said she is dead, +and it is well for her. For if she were alive I could tell you what +would hang her as well as it will execute me.” + +For a long moment no one spoke. Then a sharp question was asked Lady +Annesley by the prosecution regarding the hold she had said she had +over Mrs. Murray. + +“A very simple one,” she answered, “but I can prove it. She claimed she +was Countess of Levallion, because, as was perfectly true, she had been +married to Lord Levallion after the death of John Davidge. What she did +not know was that she was never Davidge’s wife at all. He married me, +two years before he ever saw Mrs. Murray, and after his death I became +the wife of Sir Thomas Annesley. Mrs. Murray’s only legal marriage was +with Murray himself, who is now recovering from an operation in Guy’s +Hospital. And here is my marriage-certificate, which proves what I say.” + +A thunderbolt could not have made more sensation. Every one knew her +name had been Davidge, but no one had connected her in any way with +Hester Murray. + +She stepped down as coolly as she had come up. + +The judge, after a stupefied pause, addressed the jury, but they did +not even leave their box. + +Lady Levallion and Captain Gordon stood acquitted, without a stain, and +Carrousel, Archer, or whatever his true name might be, was committed +for trial on the counts of conspiracy and murder. + +Through two long and awful days Ravenel had never winced, had stood, +like a stone image that breathed and spoke, before a hundred hostile, +curious faces. But now that she was free she covered her eyes with that +ringless left hand that the whole court had marveled at. + +It is no light thing to move away from the hinges of death and see +another take your place there. But in all the room not another soul had +pity for Carrousel. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + +“I LOVED YOU BEST.” + + +Lady Annesley, having worked much evil, had wiped it out. Yet her +stepdaughter never saw her after that day in court. A few lies, a scrap +of india-rubber, had cost two men’s lives, and a woman’s good name. + +Levallion “had been kind,” had died indirectly because he chose to +marry her. Ravenel turned from the dock and went away with Tommy and +the duchess, knowing that in a way the dead man had been dear to her, +neither as lover nor husband, but as a friend whose love had passed +knowledge. + +And Adrian Gordon let her go; let time pass till Tommy was in the +service and Mr. Jacobs fighting with all the dogs in Aldershot. And one +day in May could wait no more. + +By the lake at Avonmore she was sitting when, at the sound of his step +on the gravel, she looked up and saw him. + +“Adrian!” she said, forgetting that for this many a day he had been +Lord Levallion. But she got no further, for the look in his eyes that +were on her face. + +“May I come and speak to you?” he asked quite simply, as a child does, +but his mouth had the same look as his eyes. “You’ve traveled a long +way without me, Nel. Won’t you--come home?” + +And she knew what he meant. There was only one home in the world for +her, in Adrian Gordon’s arms. Perhaps she had no pride, for without a +word she went there. + +In the May sun he looked at her, as in one May two years past. +There was no change--but there was! He had never dreamed she was so +beautiful. But as he would have kissed her she pushed him away. + +“It isn’t fair to you!” she cried. “People will say things if you marry +me.” + +“We won’t hear them,” he returned, and in so much the manner of the +dead and gone Levallion that she cried out. + +“You never half-knew him, Adrian! He was good to me.” + +“My sweetheart,” he said, with a queer understanding of her loyalty to +the dead. + +“He was a better man than you,” she cried, and her eyes filled with +tears. “But, oh, Adrian, I loved you best.” + + +THE END. + +No. 1175 of the NEW EAGLE SERIES is “They Met by Chance,” by Ida Reade +Allen. This story contains so much charm and beauty that it will surely +intrigue you. + + + + +Only One Best + +[Illustration] + + +The best paper-covered books are S. & S. NOVELS; consequently they are +imitated. + +When you ask for an S. & S. NOVEL, be sure that you get an S. & S. +NOVEL, and save yourself disappointment. + +We have 1500 different titles to offer you, most of them copyrights. + +A complete catalog may be secured from your dealer or we will send one +free upon request. + +[Illustration] + + Street & Smith Corporation + 79 SEVENTH AVENUE + NEW YORK CITY + + + + +Transcriber’s Notes: + + +Originally serialized in _Street & Smith’s New York Weekly_ from Apr. +21, 1900 to Aug. 11, 1900 under the title _The Girl of His Heart; or, +Levallion’s Heir_. + +Some chapter titles have been changed in this edition from the original +serial; for example, chapter VI was originally called “THE TENDER +MERCIES OF THE WICKED.” In the original, chapter XXIV had no title and +began with the poetic quotation: “My blood is chill; his blood is cold; +His death is full, and mine begun.” + +Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected. + +This sentence was garbled in the book edition and has been restored +here from the original serial appearance: “After three years of freedom +her master had found her out, had come to her with a heavy hand and a +story she knew was a lie.” + +Table of contents has been added and placed into the public domain by +the transcriber. + +Inconsistent hyphenation (e.g. upstairs vs. up-stairs) is preserved +from the original text. + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77154 *** diff --git a/77154-h/77154-h.htm b/77154-h/77154-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d49466a --- /dev/null +++ b/77154-h/77154-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,12553 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html> +<html lang="en"> +<head> + <meta charset="UTF-8"> + <title> + The girl he loved; or, Where love abides | Project Gutenberg + </title> + <link rel="icon" href="images/cover.jpg" type="image/x-cover"> + <style> + +body { + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + + h1,h2 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; +} + +p { + margin-top: .51em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .49em; +} + +.p2 {margin-top: 2em;} +.p4 {margin-top: 4em;} +.p6 {margin-top: 6em;} + +hr { + width: 33%; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: 33.5%; + margin-right: 33.5%; + clear: both; +} + +hr.tb {width: 45%; margin-left: 27.5%; margin-right: 27.5%;} +hr.chap {width: 65%; margin-left: 17.5%; margin-right: 17.5%;} +@media print { hr.chap {display: none; visibility: hidden;} } + +hr.r5 {width: 5%; margin-top: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 47.5%; margin-right: 47.5%;} + +div.chapter {page-break-before: always;} +h2.nobreak {page-break-before: avoid;} + +.blockquot { + margin-left: 5%; + margin-right: 10%; +} + +.bbox {border: 2px solid; 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margin-right: 2.5em; } + +/* Illustration classes */ +.illowe5 {width: 5em;} +.illowe60 {width: 60em;} +.illowe8 {width: 8em;} + + </style> +</head> +<body> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77154 ***</div> + +<figure class="figcenter illowe60" id="cover"> + <img class="w100" src="images/cover.jpg" alt="NEW EAGLE SERIES No. 1174, The Girl He Loved, Adelaide Stirling"> +</figure> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<h1> +The Girl He Loved<br> +<br> +<span class="tiny">OR,</span><br> +<br> +<span class="small">WHERE LOVE ABIDES</span></h1> +<p class="p6 small center">BY</p> +<p class="center medium">ADELAIDE STIRLING</p> +<p class="center"> +Author of “Saved from Herself,” “Her Evil Genius,” “A Forgotten +Love,” “Love and Spite”—published in the <span class="smcap">New Eagle +Series</span>.</p> +<p class="p4"> </p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowe5" id="i1"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i1.jpg" alt="S AND S NOVELS"> +</figure> +<p class="center p4 medium"> +STREET & SMITH CORPORATION<br> +<span class="small">PUBLISHERS</span><br> +79-89 Seventh Avenue, New York<br> +</p> +</div> +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + + +<div class="chapter"> +<div class="bbox"> +<p class="center"> +Copyright, 1900<br> +By Street & Smith</p> +<hr class="r5"> +<p class="center">The Girl He Loved</p> +</div> + +<p class="center p6">(Printed in the United States of America)</p> +<p class="center"> +All rights reserved, including that of translation into foreign +languages, including the Scandinavian.</p> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="THE_GIRL_HE_LOVED">THE GIRL HE LOVED.</h2> +</div> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center"> +<a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I. SWEETHEARTS.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II. THE PERSON IN BLACK.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III. A GIFT OF JUDAS.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV. “A HORRID OLD MAN!”</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V. HER WEDDING-DAY.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI. A VERY CLEVER PERSON.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII. HER LADYSHIP SHUFFLES THE CARDS.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII. “A BIT OF THE TRUTH.”</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX. REVENGE—AND A BALLROOM.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X. A TIRING DAY.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI. NEWS OF ADRIAN.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII. THE ICY BARRIER.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII. IN LEVALLION’S HOUSE.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV. A DOVE-COLORED GOWN.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV. A WOMAN’S RING.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI. THE SIN OF SYLVIA ANNESLEY.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII. THE SEALED LETTER.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII. A GROWING CLOUD OF WITNESSES.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX. IN OUTER DARKNESS.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX. A WICKED WOMAN’S TONGUE.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI. WHITE POPPIES OF OBLIVION.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII. THE MOONLIGHT PICNIC.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII. THE DARK GLASS.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV. ALONE WITH THE DEAD.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV. A DEAD MAN’S SWEETHEART.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI. TRIFLES LIGHT AS AIR.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII. THE EVIDENCE IN THE CASE.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII. “I SAW—NO ONE!”</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX. “WILFUL MURDER.”</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX. A CLOUD OF BLOOD.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI. A BAD MOVE.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII. A TRIVIAL INCIDENT.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII. LEVALLION’S HEIR.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV. “FALSE AS A PACK OF CARDS.”</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV. GOOD-BY.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI. A MOUSE-HOLE.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII. A GRAY-LINED CLOAK.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII. ARRESTED.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">CHAPTER XXXIX. MR. JACOBS.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XL">CHAPTER XL. AT THE HINGES OF DEATH.</a><br> +<a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">CHAPTER XLI. “I LOVED YOU BEST.”</a><br> +</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">SWEETHEARTS.</p> + + +<p>“Thomas, my son!”</p> + +<p>The voice came darkly from the scullery window, and +Sir Thomas Annesley gave a guilty start where he knelt +in the kitchen garden.</p> + +<p>“Oh! It’s you!” he cried, with relief. “I thought +it might be her ladyship, and I didn’t want her.”</p> + +<p>He hastily covered in a small grave he was making +in the parsley-bed, and his sister poked her bronze head +from the open window with some curiosity.</p> + +<p>“What are you doing?” she inquired.</p> + +<p>“Oh, nothing! Just putting away something. There +is nothing like a hole in the ground. What on earth are +you doing in the scullery?” eying the unwonted smartness +of as much of Miss Ravenel Annesley’s toilet as was +visible. “What have you got on your Sunday frock for? +Have you been blacking the family boots in it?”</p> + +<p>“If it’s anything to eat you’ve buried, the cats will dig +it up again!” loftily ignoring his question, except for a +guilty glance at her lilac muslin gown.</p> + +<p>“No cat”—calmly—“will dig this up, for I’m going to +do it myself first! Come out, why don’t you?”</p> + +<p>“I’m coming.” Miss Annesley vaulted nimbly from the +window with much display of her only pair of black silk +stockings. “You don’t see her ladyship anywhere, do +you, Tommy? Because I’ve an—an errand in the quarry, +and I don’t want her to sniff it out.”</p> + +<p>“She can’t sniff a quarter of a mile”—comfortably. +“She’s gone down to sit by the lake without any hat; +said she had neuralgia. But I know she’s gone to bleach +her golden hair.”</p> + +<p>“She does bleach her hair,” Ravenel remarked thoughtfully. +“It was the most awful color yesterday—a sort +of green! I heard her giving it to the Umbrella for +making a mistake.”</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas Annesley lit a contraband cigarette.</p> + +<p>“And yet,” he said blandly, “it was not the Umbrella +who changed the bottle! Her ladyship kicked Mr. Jacobs, +and any one who kicks my dog has misfortunes. I’ll +walk over to the quarry with you!” affably.</p> + +<p>“No, Tommy dear!” with guilty haste. “I—I don’t +require you.”</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas coughed.</p> + +<p>“Don’t blame me then if her ladyship sends the old +Umbrella all over the country for you when you’re +missed. I’ll have to kill that maid some day! Do you +know, she listens at the door when we’re alone?”</p> + +<p>“Much good she’ll get!” contemptuously, marching on +under the blossoming apple-trees with the sun flecking +the lovely bronze of her hair with red gold. “Look here, +Tommy, you come as far as the hedge, and just give a +cooee if you see the Umbrella or her ladyship.”</p> + +<p>“Can’t. I’m going over to the barracks to see Gordon.”</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t! It would be”—she was not looking at +him—“a waste of time.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” Sir Thomas winked vulgarly, as he observed +a lovely carnation grow and deepen in his sister’s cheeks. +“I see. Well, go on, my dear! I don’t blame you; only,” +in hasty addition as they reached the hedge, “keep your +eye peeled. The Umbrella is active, and also far-sighted. +I don’t recommend the quarry myself; it is too like being +a mouse in a bowl. Give me a wood for such undertakings! +And mind you’re back by dinner, for if her ladyship +sees you sneaking in with your Sunday blouse on +she’ll put two and two together. Meantime, I’ve gone +over to the barracks to see Gordon. You mind that when +you come home!”</p> + +<p>“You’re a duck, Thomas, some day I’ll reward you,” +returned the vision in mauve muslin, disappearing with +some pains through the whitethorn hedge.</p> + +<p>But Sir Thomas only grunted. He approved of his +sister’s adorer because Lady Annesley did not, but he privately +considered that meeting a handsome, penniless hussar +was wasting time.</p> + +<p>“However, Mr. Jacobs,” he observed, as that disreputable +bull-terrier joined him, “anything for business, and +we’re growing old. And it is my belief that my lady +wants to marry Ravenel to that old Lord Levallion, and +I’ll see her blowed first.”</p> + +<p>He sat down on the bank at the foot of the hedge and +pulled his hat over his eyes. They were worldly wise eyes +for a boy of sixteen; but to have Lady Annesley for a +stepmother was a liberal education. Old Sir Thomas +had married her in haste, and, fortunately for himself, +had died too soon to have time to repent at leisure. He +was poor; his new wife had been supposed to be rich; +but her fortune turned out to be about as real as her complexion—there +was just enough of it to swear by. Annesley +Chase was mortgaged too deeply for the widow’s +small income even to pay the interest; when young Sir +Thomas came of age it would be foreclosed and sold over +his head, unless money came from the skies. And yet +Lady Annesley, even while she sat and saw the interest +piling up against her, had no idea of letting Annesley +Chase go. A snug old age in the dower-house appearing +to her more inviting than spending her declining years +in a semidetached villa, she was even now taking steps +to secure it by the simple scheme of a rich marriage for +Ravenel, and later and harder, for Sir Thomas. In the +meantime, she provided the stepchildren, who were her +only stock in trade, with bread and butter. Thin bread +and thinner butter, perhaps; but still she fed them. And +they hated her cordially—Ravenel from having seen her +father’s last days made wretched; Tommy from a far-sighted +distrust that grew on him every day.</p> + +<p>But Ravenel just now had no thoughts for her stepmother, +nor of how she was improving the long hours +of the May afternoon. Over the short grass of the field +above the quarry pits she was walking with the air of +one having an infinity of time and no particular destination. +Her heart might be galloping before her, but it +was not good for captains of hussar regiments to know +it. She sailed on demurely under the shade of an ivory-white +parasol—it was one of Lady Annesley’s, and her +stepdaughter hoped devoutly there would not be a hue +and cry for it while it was out—as if she had not a +care in the world. Yet a sharp color came to her clear +cheeks as she neared the quarry pit.</p> + +<p>Suppose he had not come!</p> + +<p>The thought made her feel chilly in the warm May +sunshine. For one breathless moment she was afraid to +lift her eyes from the short grass lest she might look in +vain for Adrian Gordon. And so nearly walked over +him where he lay stretched on the warm, green sod at the +edge of the quarry.</p> + +<p>Miss Annesley dropped her pirated parasol.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” she cried, as he sprang to his feet. “I nearly +walked over you.”</p> + +<p>“Tread lightly then, for my heart is under your feet,” +quoted the man, with a little laugh of pure pleasure. He +took both her hands and looked down into her gray-blue +eyes.</p> + +<p>“I began to think, Miss Annesley,” he remarked +gravely, “that you were not coming. Another ten minutes +and I should have walked up to your hall door and +paid a polite visit,” his strong, fine hands holding hers +with utter content.</p> + +<p>The girl looked up at him where he stood bareheaded, +the sun on his close-cropped, fair hair. How tanned and +strong and good to look at he was! And how sweet his +gray eyes and his mouth under his fair mustache.</p> + +<p>He caught her hands a little closer.</p> + +<p>“You see,” he said; “you were just saved having to +receive me under her ladyship’s nose. I would have +braved even her tea rather than have gone back without +seeing you.” He stooped to pick up her parasol, and +she drew her hands from his left one that held them +both.</p> + +<p>“It wouldn’t have been any good your coming in state,” +she returned calmly. “You would only have had ‘not at +home’ said to you. Her ladyship is engaged to-day in +renovating her charms.”</p> + +<p>“I should have met you at the door if I’d started when +I first thought of it! Would you have sent me away?” +seating himself beside her in the shade of a flower-filled +thorn-tree on the sharp slope down to the quarry. “I +believe you would!” rather dashed.</p> + +<p>“I should not, for an excellent reason. I didn’t come +by the front door, but out of the scullery window,” gaily. +“Her ladyship supposes I’m darning table-cloths. I’ve +left Tommy down by the hedge to warn me if my flight +is discovered.”</p> + +<p>The laughter left Captain Gordon’s handsome eyes. +He laid his brown hand on Ravenel’s white one.</p> + +<p>“Tell me, my Nel,” he said softly; “do you love me, +ever so little?”</p> + +<p>“No!” very low. “Ever so little!” Did she not love +him with all her soul and body, as she loved no one else +in God’s world?</p> + +<p>“How much do you love me? That much?” measuring +off a tiny space with her two hands, for he had them both +now, and Lady Annesley’s lace parasol had rolled where +it would down the quarry.</p> + +<p>“Not at all?”</p> + +<p>“Not at all,” but she barely whispered it.</p> + +<p>“Do you mean that, Nel?” he was whispering, too. +“Because I love you—oh, you know how I love you!” he +let her hands go. “Tell me, quick, do you mean it?”</p> + +<p>Miss Annesley made no answer, only raised her eyes +to his for the briefest instant. But it was long enough +for Adrian Gordon.</p> + +<p>“Sweetheart,” he said, and kissed her. “Nel, look at +me; won’t you kiss me?”</p> + +<p>“I—I don’t know.” But she did look at him, and, +somehow, without either of their wills, their lips met. +And at that long, gentle touch of the man’s lips on hers +Ravenel Annesley gave her heart and her soul to his +keeping, forever.</p> + +<p>“My sweet,” he said, letting her go, “do you know, I’ve +no right to ask you to marry me? I’ve no money.”</p> + +<p>“Neither have I,” gaily. “Would you like to be off +your bargain?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t say it!” quickly. “It hurts too much. But +money I must and will have to marry you. I mean the +girl of my heart to have all she wants in this world—gowns +and horses and happiness. It would kill me to +see you as I’ve seen the wives of lots of poor men. Can +you wait for me, sweet, for two years, while I go out +to India?”</p> + +<p>“India! What for?” the color left her face.</p> + +<p>“Well! I’ve a second cousin, who has some influence. +He’s not a man I like much, but he surprised me the other +day by telling me that a friend of his out in India would +offer me an appointment on his staff—he’s a general—if +it were certain I’d accept. I—I said I would. It’s more +than three times the pay I’m getting now and a chance +in a thousand to get on in the service. I’d have to leave +my regiment, but I’d do that—for you.”</p> + +<p>“Adrian—not now!” she whispered. “We’re so happy.” +Her heart fairly turned over at the thought of Annesley +Chase without Adrian Gordon quartered ten miles off, +of the long, empty summer days.</p> + +<p>“We’ll be as happy again,” he answered wistfully, “and +the sooner I go the sooner I’ll be back. But I wouldn’t +go at all if I saw any other way. I’m afraid to leave you +with your stepmother.”</p> + +<p>“She can’t marry me out offhand to a slug or a snail, +and those are the only visitors we ever have. My +charms”—dryly—“have doubtless not yet been noised +abroad.”</p> + +<p>“I believe you wish they had been!” quite as dryly. +“You’re a bundle of vanity, Miss Annesley, and I believe +you’ve got a temper—and you’re proud——” he paused +eloquently.</p> + +<p>“Go on,” returned his charmer calmly. “Don’t mind +me! And when you’re done I’ll tell you what I am—quite +good enough for you!”</p> + +<p>Her eyes met his with sweet insolence, fearless for all +their softness, and the man’s face changed.</p> + +<p>“You’re too good, that’s one thing,” he said slowly. +“And for another, you’re too proud. I know you! If +anything went wrong between us, and it was my fault, +you’d never give me a chance to explain.”</p> + +<p>Ravenel looked at him, as he sat beside her, with the +May sun full on his face, that was meant to be fair, +but was turned a clear pale-bronze by wind and weather; +full on his tawny, gold mustache, and the clear-cut lines +of his cheek and chin. Strong and cold and proud that +face was, till you looked at the man’s eyes or saw him +smile. But now he was not smiling, and a quick pang +caught at the girl’s heart. Adrian Gordon to talk of +pride!</p> + +<p>She flung out both her hands to him, as she had never +done before.</p> + +<p>“Listen!” she cried passionately. “It’s you who are +proud; not I! Offend me, and I will give you all the +chances on earth to explain; but you—oh, I don’t believe +you would ever forgive anything.”</p> + +<p>Her eyes, that had been so gay, so full of sweet mockery, +were brimming with tears, and Gordon caught her +to him jealously.</p> + +<p>“There will never anything come between us,” he said +as he kissed her, “not between the girl I love and me!”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">THE PERSON IN BLACK.</p> + + +<p>Behind a rock, not two yards from Captain Gordon’s +flat young back, something stirred—stirring so faintly +that even a thrush in its nest in the hawthorn bush did +not hear it. Perhaps the sour-faced person in black who +knelt on the grass, ostensibly digging dandelions for a +complexion salad, had been there for a long time; or, +perhaps, it had not been hard to evade the sentry on the +hedge and bring up in good ear-shot of the two people +who were blind and deaf to everything but themselves.</p> + +<p>“Heaps of things can come between us,” Ravenel was +retorting dolefully. “Lady Annesley can. And Tommy +says the Umbrella—that beast of a maid of hers—tells +her everything we do.”</p> + +<p>The person in black bridled angrily behind her rock. +She had come from curiosity; she would stay now for +spite. The Umbrella, indeed!</p> + +<p>Gordon laughed.</p> + +<p>“Why do you call her that?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, because she’s a framework of bones with limp +black silk over them—just like an umbrella shut up! +But she’s a vicious wretch, too, and I hate her.”</p> + +<p>The unseen listener’s eyes narrowed in her flat face.</p> + +<p>“Well, never mind her; she can’t worry us!” hastily. +“This is the only thing that matters just now. My cousin +wired to General Carmichael that I’d accept his offer, +and—got an answer. Nel, I must go in a week!”</p> + +<p>“Well?” she did not look at him.</p> + +<p>“Well, I’m going!” his handsome face drawn and hard. +“But I won’t leave you like this. I want you to marry +me before I go.”</p> + +<p>“But you couldn’t take me with you?” a wild hope +made her voice shake.</p> + +<p>“No! But I could send for you, or come when I +could get leave and carry you off. Look here, my heart,” +with gentle strength, “if I must go I want to leave my +wife behind me. Then I shall know nothing can ever +come between us.”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” her cheek reddened, “I can’t marry you! How +could I?” though the very thought of being Adrian’s wife +made life heaven.</p> + +<p>“There’s Tommy.”</p> + +<p>Gordon smiled.</p> + +<p>“Is that all? Only Tommy! When I come back for +you we’ll take Tommy, too; will that do? Or, do you +think you’ll find me an insufferable husband? Tell me. +Why don’t you look at me, sweetheart?”</p> + +<p>“Because I don’t want to,” returned Miss Annesley, +with scarlet cheeks and a truthful tongue.</p> + +<p>“Say you’ll marry me!” he demanded. “Say yes—unless +you don’t love me.”</p> + +<p>Very deliberately she looked at him, saw the love and +truth in his eyes, the strength and beauty of his face, that +was pale with earnestness.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she whispered, so that he could hardly hear; +but he knew without hearing—and the silent woman behind +the rock knew, too, and strained her ears.</p> + +<p>“Then will you do this?” said Gordon. “The curate +at Effingham went to school with me. He’ll marry us +if I get a special license. All you’ll have to do is to walk +over to Effingham—which is really your parish church, +though you don’t go there—with me, and be married. +No one will know, unless you like to tell Tommy. And +I’ll bring you straight home from the church door. But +you’ll belong to me, and I can defy her ladyship or any +one else to make trouble between us. Will you do that?”</p> + +<p>She nodded, her face like a crimson flower.</p> + +<p>“Yes, Adrian,” he prompted; but she spoke with a +sudden flash of her spirit.</p> + +<p>“Your wife or no one else’s in the world!” she cried, +“unless—you change your mind and throw me over.”</p> + +<p>Gordon caught her up like a child.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you silly, silly!” he cried. “I’ll not give you a +chance to be any one else’s wife; don’t flatter yourself. +But I’ve no right to so sweet a thing as you. What you +ought to do is refuse me and marry my cousin.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t even know his name.”</p> + +<p>“That’s a trifle. He has money enough to buy this +county and not know it.”</p> + +<p>“He hasn’t money enough to buy me!” with a quick +flash of her eyes. “Oh!” with sudden remembrance of +the world about her, “I must go! Look how long the +shadows are.”</p> + +<p>“Wait—just one second! I’ve something for you,” he +was feeling in his pocket. “I meant it to be diamonds, +but they say these things—though, of course, it’s nonsense—lose +their light if things go wrong with—any one +you care for!”</p> + +<p>He drew out a velvet case, and there shone into Ravenel +Annesley’s eyes the green fire of a half-hoop of +emeralds, curiously set in a kind of mosaic of small diamonds +and opals. The thing was wonderful in a queer, +barbaric way as it blazed in the sun. The girl who looked +at it stood speechless.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you like it?” his face falling, for he had +searched London for a ring unlike any others.</p> + +<p>“I—I love it! But——” she stopped with dismay.</p> + +<p>Opals—every one knew what luck opals brought. And +emeralds all the world over meant “forsaken.”</p> + +<p>“Opals aren’t lucky,” she said hastily, and left the green +stones out of the question; “but this is too beautiful to +bring bad luck. And I suppose it’s all nonsense really! +Adrian, do you know, I never had a ring in my life?” +shaking from her the senseless dread she felt of this +one.</p> + +<p>“You’re going to have two now. This to-day and +another next week,” he was slipping the fiery-green wonder +on her third finger. “‘Till death do us part,’” he +quoted softly. “That belongs to the next ring, but I can +say it with this one.”</p> + +<p>“Death, or Lady Annesley!” sharply, her eyes full of +quick tears. “She hates me, Adrian, and she doesn’t like +you.”</p> + +<p>“It can’t hurt either of us, Nel!” with the little backward +jerk of his head the girl loved.</p> + +<p>“Why do you never call me Ravenel?” she said irrelevantly, +for there was no sense in wasting good time talking +about her ladyship.</p> + +<p>“Not like you!” promptly. “Means some one quite +different. Mind you, never let any one call you Nel till +I come back again,” with a sudden curious jealousy.</p> + +<p>“No one will want to,” dolefully. “Oh! Adrian; do +you really mean to go next week?”</p> + +<p>“I must,” his face grew dark, hard-bitten; for it was +like dying to leave her. “And the worst of it is I’ll be +so busy. I’ll have to go to London to get my kit, and say +a decent word to my cousin, and sit through a farewell +dinner at mess—that’ll be about as lively as a funeral!—the +night before I leave, when I shall be mad to be +with you. But we’ll have one day together if everything +goes undone. And you’ll go with me to Effingham, Miss +Annesley, and come back Nel Gordon!”</p> + +<p>But she sat pale and quiet.</p> + +<p>“It seems so mad, so impossible!” she said at last, +as if it were wrung from her. “And I believe my stepmother +would kill me if she found out.”</p> + +<p>“That’s about the only thing she couldn’t do,” shortly. +“Do you think I won’t take care of her claws for you? +Look here, besides, the day we go to Effingham there’ll +be the duchess’ garden-party. I’ll manage to get there. +If I can’t, I’ll send you a note to say what day I am +coming to take you to Effingham. After that, sweet, we +can laugh at her ladyship.”</p> + +<p>“You’ll be gone! We won’t be able to laugh at anything!” +forlornly.</p> + +<p>“You’ll be my wife,” something flashed into his eyes +that boded no good to any one that dared lift a finger +against Adrian Gordon’s dearest. “I’ll be able to write +to you and you to me. Some day I’ll come and carry you +off, no matter what Lady Annesley may be pleased to +say. The only thing is,” a sudden pity in the masterful +protecting hand on hers, “it’s a pretty poor match for you, +my Nel. And a doleful wedding in an empty church to a +man who can’t even keep you is a selfish bit of work—it +makes me feel a beast! You ought, you know, to marry +a lord—with a choral service, and two bishops, and a +church full of fine people to make it all proper,” his voice +was jesting, but his eyes were sad enough, and he held +her hand as if he never could let it go.</p> + +<p>“Don’t talk like that!” she cried sharply. “It makes +me feel as if some one were walking over my grave. +What have I got to do with lords and bishops at my wedding? +I’d be miserable. I’d——” she could not go on. +What made her see, as if in a vision, a strange church, +filled with sweet people, whispering indifferently while +the organ pealed, and the bride, all in white—with a +heart of stone—came up the aisle on feet that would +hardly carry her, since it was not Adrian Gordon who +waited at the altar? There was a look on her face as +she stared in front of her, wide-eyed, that made Gordon +catch her to him. A prescient look, as of one who sees +for a shuddering moment the curtain lifted from the +future.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter? You’re not afraid?” he whispered. +“I’ll take care of you, my sweet; you know that! +May God treat me as I treat you, my wife.”</p> + +<p>Lip to lip, soul to soul, they kissed each other. She +was shaking when he let her go; afterward it was small +comfort to him to remember it, nor the real terror in her +voice when she spoke.</p> + +<p>“Oh! I’ve stayed too late. And the ring, I daren’t +wear it. You mustn’t come with me. She mustn’t know +you were here.” She dragged up her neck-ribbon and +put the ring on it, slipping it round her neck, inside her +collar, pushing it out of sight with miserable care. And +the watcher behind the rock—who was stiff and much +fatigued—saw her do it.</p> + +<p>“Rings!” she reflected, coming cautiously out as the +pair vanished, and rubbing one foot that had gone to +sleep, “and weddings at Effingham—we’ll see!” pins and +needles adding vigor to her thoughts. “Old Umbrella, +indeed!” and her ladyship’s confidential maid moved stiffly +off in a devious direction that took her to Annesley Chase +quite unobserved.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">A GIFT OF JUDAS.</p> + + +<p>“Oh!” said Ravenel Annesley to the empty schoolroom, +the ill-spread breakfast-table. She stared at the +small envelope that lay on her plate with a breathless, +helpless joy. Since this four days past she had hoped +for it in vain.</p> + +<p>“I never thought he’d write by post!” she thought, +pouncing on it and inspecting every inch of it, from the +London postmark to the last letter of the address. “But +her ladyship couldn’t have suspected it was from Adrian, +or I never would have seen it! It was just that London +postmark that saved me!”</p> + +<p>She turned it over sharply with the horrid thought +that perhaps she had only got it after Lady Annesley +knew what was in it, for the post-bag always went to her +bedroom, and her ladyship’s prejudices were few. But +the clean, red seal on the back of it reassured her no +one had tampered with that clear-cut A. Tommy, sauntering +in, whistled as he looked from his sister’s face to +the envelope she was tearing open.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“My Nel,” she read breathlessly.</p> + +<p>“I find I can go to the duchess’ to-morrow. I was +afraid I couldn’t manage it. My ship sails on the 15th, +so the 14th is our only day. I have arranged everything, +got the license, seen the curate at Effingham, and I’ll +come to the back gate for you at three on the 14th, which +is our only chance for Effingham, as my ship sails a day +sooner than I thought. Will it be very hard for you to +get away? But you’ll do it, won’t you? Bring Tommy +if you like. It does not seem true that the next time +I see you will be on our wedding-day, does it, sweetheart? +I feel as though I were hurrying you brutally, +but it is our only chance. Excuse pencil and haste, but +I’m writing in another man’s rooms, and his ink won’t +work.</p> + +<p>“Always yours—my very dearest,</p> + +<p class="sig"> +“<span class="smcap">Adrian</span>.”<br> +</p> +</div> + +<p>But Miss Annesley bestowed no attention on the pencil-scrawl +or the dates written in figures, which Lady Annesley +would have considered tempting Providence.</p> + +<p>“To-day is the twelfth,” she thought joyfully. “I’ll see +him to-morrow at the duchess’. Oh, if I only had something +fit to wear!”</p> + +<p>“Look here,” said Sir Thomas suddenly. “When you +have done moaning over that precious letter I wish to +discourse. Are you going to marry Gordon?”</p> + +<p>“Shut up, Tommy!” she was scarlet. “Some one might +hear.”</p> + +<p>“Who could?” scornfully. “The Umbrella’s at her +breakfast. Are you? Because, I should if I were you! +it may be your only chance,” significantly.</p> + +<p>“Yes, I am!” she said defiantly, and afterward was glad +she had told no more.</p> + +<p>“But what do you mean?” for his face was sober.</p> + +<p>“Only that somehow I think her ladyship’s in mischief. +She’s been eying you like a cat lately. I feel afraid she +may be on to you and Gordon.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t care if she is.” Somehow she could not tell +all her wild plan to Tommy. “I’m engaged to him. +Why should I care?”</p> + +<p>“You don’t now, but you will when her eye’s on you,” +shrewdly.</p> + +<p>“I’ll soon find out. She wants me after breakfast,” +bestowing Adrian’s note in a safe pocket. “I suppose +it’s about the duchess’ party to-morrow. Do you know +I’m to go?”</p> + +<p>The boy nodded.</p> + +<p>“Good old duchess!” he said disrespectfully. “Ever see +her on a bicycle? She’s gorgeous. You’ll never be a fine +woman like that unless you make her ladyship give us +more to eat,” dolefully.</p> + +<p>“What do you bet—she’s having sweetbreads up-stairs?”</p> + +<p>“Don’t bet,” concisely. “Met them going up. I’ll go +up myself now, Tommy, and hear the worst.”</p> + +<p>She marched out of the untidy old schoolroom, where +she and Tommy had their meals, and through the bare +passages to the only luxurious room in the house. It was +like going into another world, a world of scent and rose-colored +hangings and mirrors, silver-topped bottles and +cushions. On a sofa sat its owner and in the tempered +light she was beautiful still. Yet she looked enviously +at Ravenel standing in the doorway. With half her +looks Sylvia Annesley would have married a duke.</p> + +<p>“You wanted me?” Somehow Ravenel was nervous.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” pointing to a chair; “about to-morrow. Have +you anything to wear?”</p> + +<p>“My Sunday frock,” coloring as she remembered when +she had last worn it.</p> + +<p>Lady Annesley let a gleam of amusement come into +her eyes, since her back was to the light.</p> + +<p>“That lavender thing! It can’t be fit.”</p> + +<p>“It’s all right,” hastily. “It doesn’t matter what I +wear.”</p> + +<p>“Except that I fancy the duchess would like to see +you decent.” So carelessly that no one would have +dreamed that all her schemes might be made or marred +by her step-daughter’s toilet at a country garden-party.</p> + +<p>“It’s my lavender or nothing!” returned that young +person not too amiably.</p> + +<p>Lady Annesley’s answer made her jump.</p> + +<p>“Not at all! I am going to give you a gown. I sent +for you to try it on.”</p> + +<p>“You!” It sounded more candid than polite. “Why? +What for?” For her life she could not get out any +thanks. Lady Annesley, who let her go cold in winter, +to suddenly present her with a new dress. “I—I’d rather +not,” she ended stiffly.</p> + +<p>“Oh, you might see it first,” rather dryly. “Adams, +Miss Ravenel’s gown!”</p> + +<p>Ravenel watched the Umbrella go to a wardrobe.</p> + +<p>“If she made it,” she thought, “I’ll never put it on!”</p> + +<p>Sylvia Annesley read the obstinate face like print.</p> + +<p>“You see,” she said lightly, “the whole county will +be there to-morrow, and all the soldiers! You simply +can’t go in a tumbled old muslin.”</p> + +<p>All the soldiers! And Adrian had never seen her in +a frock that was even new. Lady Annesley saw her +waver.</p> + +<p>“That is the little gown,” she said quickly. “Slip it +on and decide afterward,” thinking that mention of the +soldiers had done the business, and blessing the discretion +of her maid without which she might have given her stepdaughter +ten gowns and not known how to make her +wear them.</p> + +<p>For Ravenel had risen and was staring at the ivory-white, +silk-lined muslin the Umbrella held.</p> + +<p>There was not a spot of color about it, and as she +gazed the girl knew that Adrian had never even dreamed +of her as she would look in that filmy white frock.</p> + +<p>“I can’t take it,” she faltered, but she let the Umbrella +put it on her.</p> + +<p>“The hat, Adams!” cried Lady Annesley quickly. “In +the next room. Give me the scissors first. The collar +is too high in the back.”</p> + +<p>She snipped hastily once or twice, but Ravenel hardly +felt the cold scissors as she stared down at her long +skirt.</p> + +<p>“There, look at yourself.” With a curious lingering +touch, Lady Annesley pushed her to the glass. But the +girl gave a little cry of astonishment.</p> + +<p>Was this her very own self who stood so thin and +tall, her bronze hair gleaming, her cheeks rose-red, her +eyes—she turned from the mirror with sudden passion. +No matter who gave her the gown she would wear it! +would go all in white for Adrian Gordon’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“Do you know it is very good of you?” She faced +the woman in the yellow silk morning gown honestly. “I +don’t deserve it.”</p> + +<p>“It is not new. I had the things,” slowly. “Just turn +and let me see how the train hangs.” She stooped gracefully, +pulled the bodice down under the skirt, settled the +train. She also had not been prepared for the dream +of peach and carnation the girl looked in the white +gown; had doubted if her one card were strong enough +to play against the world-worn shrewdness of a man +grown old in society. But she was confident enough now.</p> + +<p>“I can snap my fingers at Captain Gordon, I fancy,” +and she tightened her small hand. “He can’t blame any +one but himself,” but she kept the scorn off her face till +Ravenel had put on her every-day clothes and departed.</p> + +<p>“Tommy,” the girl cried, bursting into the schoolroom +and recounting her extraordinary tale, “fancy her giving +me a dress! Do you think it means she’s beginning to +like me?” wistfully.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think—I know,” said Sir Thomas bluntly. “It +means Lord Levallion. You bet your boots he’s going to +that party.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” blankly. “I never heard of the +man.”</p> + +<p>“Her ladyship dropped that out the window,” producing +a torn envelope. “It blew slap in my face. Dark-blue +coronet, ‘Levallion’ on the back and ‘Lady An——’ +torn through in front. And, sent by hand!”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see what that’s got to do with the garden-party!”</p> + +<p>“Don’t you?” getting up. “You’re a girl and can’t see +past your nose. I tell you Levallion’s staying with the +duchess. Aren’t you hungry? I’m going out to get that +ginger beer I buried. I hooked some buns, too. We +hadn’t too much breakfast.”</p> + +<p>“We’ll get less after to-morrow,” following him briskly +into the garden. “For I’m not going to speak to any +nasty old Lord Levallion—not for ten gowns. I’m going +to——” She stopped short, white with terror.</p> + +<p>“My ring!” she cried wildly. “I took off my dress +before her. She must have seen it.”</p> + +<p>Both hands at her throat, she fumbled for her treasure; +and leaned back against a convenient tree with her knees +giving under her.</p> + +<p>Ring and ribbon were gone!</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">“A HORRID OLD MAN!”</p> + + +<p>Lord Levallion was bored.</p> + +<p>He hated garden-parties, and he had patiently endured +the Duchess of Avonmore’s country omnium-gatherum +from four o’clock until six. He could not go home, because +he was staying in the house, and, retreat being impossible, +he had revenged himself for his martyrdom on +his old friend, Lady Annesley, by departing hastily on +her eager offer to introduce him to her stepdaughter.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see her just now,” Sylvia Annesley had said, +with the smile he had once known so well, “but if you will +come with me we shall easily find her!”</p> + +<p>“No, thank you, Sylvia; I don’t care for little girls.”</p> + +<p>Lord Levallion had the rudest drawl in the world +when it pleased him, and he enjoyed Lady Annesley’s +rage at it now. It was all very well to write her a note +by way of amusing himself on a wet day, but it was +another story to have her introduce him to a bread-and-butter +miss.</p> + +<p>“The woman wears well, though,” he reflected, as he +adroitly drifted away from her. “Who would imagine +it was fifteen years since I loved and rode away! I think +a cigarette might assist me to endure to the end, if I can +get away from this madding crowd. I’ll get back to +town to-morrow, that’s one thing certain. The country +is less in my line than ever.”</p> + +<p>He pursued his leisurely way through the magnificent +old gardens, round the end of the lake, and finally found +a seat on a retired bench in the heart of a grove of +trees. There was not a soul to be seen, and if it had +not been for the mellow sound of a distant band Lord +Levallion would not even have been reminded that he was +at a party. He had smoked one cigarette, and was lighting +another with a contented sigh, when he heard a +quick step and a rustle of silk which caused him to look +up sharply. Pray the gods Sylvia had not tracked him!</p> + +<p>But it was not Sylvia. It was a strange girl, all in +white from her hat to her shoes, and she did not even +see him as she walked toward him along the quiet path +where the light came dim and green through overarching +boughs. She was magnificently handsome—and she was +blind with tears that streamed down her face. Her white +gown trailed unheeded on the gravel as she fumbled in +her pocket for a handkerchief.</p> + +<p>“Something must be very wrong,” Levallion reflected +swiftly, “to make her ruin her skirt round the hem!”</p> + +<p>But even in her tears she was gloriously beautiful, and +he was not going to let her pass him.</p> + +<p>Lord Levallion got up, dropped his cigarette, and took +off his hat.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon,” he said gravely. “I will go.” +But he did not move.</p> + +<p>Ravenel Annesley started furiously.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t see you,” she said, with a sob in her throat. +“I thought there was no one here. And—I wanted to +be alone.”</p> + +<p>She wiped the tears from her eyes savagely, with a +morsel of a handkerchief; but they came again, and +Levallion saw her chest lift with an uncontrollable sob.</p> + +<p>“Do you want to stop crying?” he said quietly.</p> + +<p>Ravenel stamped her foot.</p> + +<p>“Of course I do, but I can’t!” she cried childishly.</p> + +<p>“Then don’t be alone,” he returned. “If you stay by +yourself you will cry till you are not fit to be seen. Sit +down here by me instead, and talk. Oh, I know you’re +wishing me miles away; but just try it! When you get +to my age you will find it is always better to stop crying.”</p> + +<p>His voice was cool and hard. It came on her nerves +like iced water. She did not answer him, but she sat +down on a corner of the bench limply, as if her feet could +carry her no longer.</p> + +<p>“Do you mind my cigarette? No,” as she shook her +small, averted head. “Then I will smoke. Don’t rub +your eyes unless you want the whole world to know +you’ve been crying,” looking down his nose at the cigarette +he was lighting. “And the more you have been crying +the less you probably want people to know it.”</p> + +<p>“No one would have known it if you hadn’t been +here!” she said angrily. “Now I suppose you’ll tell the +duchess.”</p> + +<p>“Why the duchess?” Anything to make her talk. It +was a sin to let so lovely a face be cried into hideousness. +He hoped devoutly she would not blow her nose! +Women usually did when they cried.</p> + +<p>“It’s her party, so you must know her. And I don’t +know whether you know any one else or not.”</p> + +<p>“I have not the honor of knowing you, at all events,” +he returned coolly. “So that I couldn’t tell the duchess if +I wanted to—which I don’t.”</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t matter who I am.” She bit her handkerchief +desperately. “I wish I was anybody—I wish I were +dead!”</p> + +<p>“That is a wish you are certain to get—in time! It’s +not worth while to cry because you despair of it,” blandly.</p> + +<p>“I’m not crying.” She turned her small, white face +to him, and her eyes were dry, if her lip still quivered.</p> + +<p>“No, but you are extremely unhappy,” looking at her +as indifferently as if he were not taking in every point in +her lovely, mutinous face.</p> + +<p>“So would you be. At least, I don’t know,” with frank +rudeness. “Perhaps at your age you would not care.”</p> + +<p>She bestowed a look on him for the first time, but +without a shade of coquetry. The man might have been +a tree or a stone for all she card. It was not the way +women usually regarded Lord Levallion, and it interested +him. He turned his high-bred, worn face, with the +lines of forty-seven years on it, toward her with a keen +glance which somehow reminded her of Adrian. The +thought brought a fresh lump in her throat.</p> + +<p>“I wish I could go home,” she said miserably. “I—I’ve +lost something, and I’d like to get home and look for +it. If it wouldn’t make a hue and cry I’d walk home +now.”</p> + +<p>She had not had one happy minute since discovering +her ring was gone. Had turned from the wondering +Tommy, digging for his beer in the parsley, and run up-stairs +like a frantic, raging child, to the door of Lady +Annesley’s room. And there something stopped her like +a tangible thing. She stood motionless, with clenched +hands, felt cold in the warm May air that flooded through +an open window. Why had she come running up here +like a fool, when she knew she dared not open that shut +door in front of her and demand her ring of the woman +inside?</p> + +<p>“If I said Adrian had given me a ring she’d never let +me set eyes on him again!” she thought, with more truth +than she knew. “She knows I never had a ring. She’d +ask—and what could I say? I might lie, but it’s no use +to lie to a liar; they know too much. And, perhaps, she +hasn’t taken it—perhaps I dropped it! I was out in the +garden before breakfast. I’ll wait! I’ll tell Adrian to-morrow. +It’s no use to give myself away for nothing.”</p> + +<p>And here was to-morrow—and no Adrian. Man after +man of his regiment she had seen, but she knew none of +them. She could not go up to strange men and clamor +for news of Adrian Gordon. Her heart felt like a stone +when it grew too late to expect the man for whom she +had come in that white gown that felt as if it burned her. +She had slipped away from the crowd, away from Sylvia, +like a child who cannot keep a brave front any longer. +Where was Adrian? And how was she to bear the rest +of this dreadful party?</p> + +<p>“How far is ‘home’?” Levallion said suddenly.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. Five miles and more. I can’t walk +in these,” with a sudden glance at her white suède shoes. +“I’d ruin them—and they’re not mine. They and everything +else were put on me in hopes that a horrid old man +might admire me. Thank goodness, I haven’t even seen +him! And I wouldn’t have spoken to him if I had!”</p> + +<p>A sudden light arose on Lord Levallion’s horizon. +This must be Sylvia’s stepdaughter.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” he commented grimly. “What old man? Levallion?”</p> + +<p>Ravenel nodded.</p> + +<p>“She did not say so, of course, but I feel sure of it. +Why? Do you know him?”</p> + +<p>“As well as most people.” But he said it without much +spirit. It did not somehow amuse him to be considered +“a horrid old man.” He got up, rather stiffly.</p> + +<p>“If you want to go home,” he said, “I will drive you. +I am no more interested in this party than you. I will +get a pony-cart at the stables and meet you at the turn +of the avenue. It will fill up my time till dinner.”</p> + +<p>“There isn’t going to be any dinner,” crossly. “There’s +going to be supper, and the duchess has asked me to +stay and dance afterward. If I have to stay here till +eleven o’clock I sha’n’t be able to stand it.”</p> + +<p>“Then don’t stay. You don’t”—the “horrid old man” +rankled—“look fit to be seen in any case! If your +chaperon is going to stay to supper, I will find her when +I come back and tell her I took you home.”</p> + +<p>“Will you?” Her face grew almost happy. She cared +nothing at all for appearances, or that she had not been +introduced to this stranger, who stood looking at her with +cynical kindness.</p> + +<p>“Yes! Come along,” he returned abruptly. “You +needn’t thank me. I’m very much bored, and I’m going +for my own amusement.”</p> + +<p>“But how can you tell my stepmother, Lady Annesley? +Do you know her?”</p> + +<p>“You can write it,” producing a neat gold pencil and +note-book and tearing out a leaf.</p> + +<p>He watched her while she wrote. Truly Sylvia had +done well to dress her all in white! Most women tried +to please you without consulting your tastes, but Sylvia +had not forgotten that he thought white the only wear +for a pretty woman.</p> + +<p>“There!” The girl handed him a scribbled note nervously. +“You will be sure to give it to Lady Annesley?”</p> + +<p>“I promise you,” with grave politeness. “Now, if +you will be at the turn of the avenue in ten minutes I +will have the cart there.”</p> + +<p>Ravenel nodded. If it were twenty miles she would +go home. She could not bear another half-hour at this +miserable party.</p> + +<p>There was not a soul to be seen as she sprang lightly +up into the high, two-wheeled cart, never even asking +how her strange friend was able to order out the +duchess’ own pony. She leaned back wearily as they +started, and the man beside her was too wise to try to +make her talk.</p> + +<p>In silence they drove through the quiet country lanes, +the setting sun reddening the bronze of the girl’s hair +and lending a false color to her listless face. When they +reached the open door of Annesley Chase, she was down +like a flash before he could get out.</p> + +<p>“Thank you—oh, a hundred times!” she cried gratefully. +“You will give Lady Annesley her note at once, +won’t you?”</p> + +<p>“At once,” lifting his hat. But the girl had run into +the house.</p> + +<p>Now was her time, while Lady Annesley was out. She +tore off the smart white gown she had put on so carefully, +and threw it on the floor. Then she got out +Adrian Gordon’s letter and looked at it feverishly. There +it was in black and white: “I can go to the duchess’. +I was afraid I couldn’t manage it.”</p> + +<p>Well, something must have happened! But at least +she was at home again; she could look for her ring. And +suppose he had not been able to go to-day, what did it +matter? To-morrow would be her wedding-day, and +after that nothing could come between them any more.</p> + +<p>Pale, trembling, her heart heavy as lead, in spite of +herself, she stole like a thief to her stepmother’s room. +The Umbrella was down-stairs, and Ravenel hunted +quickly in every drawer and box. It never struck her +as being odd that they should be all unlocked, exactly +as if the more thoroughly they were searched the better +for their owner’s plans. And the girl, after thirty minutes, +knew she looked in vain. Her ring was not in the +room. Somehow and somewhere she must have lost it. +She remembered that, like a fool, she had tied the ribbon +in a bow. It was utterly inexplicable except for +that.</p> + +<p>As Ravenel crept away, utterly hopeless, Sylvia Annesley +was standing in the duchess’ drawing-room, with +a heart that beat high in joyful surprise.</p> + +<p>“What!” she cried incredulously, “you drove her +home? But you did not know her!”</p> + +<p>“I met her,” Lord Levallion returned dryly, “during +the afternoon. You had decked her out to meet the eye, +hadn’t you?”</p> + +<p>But Lady Annesley did not flinch. Instead, she did +not seem to have heard his fleering voice. She had +grown pale under her rouge, and she laid a quick, insistent +hand on his arm.</p> + +<p>“When did you go? What time?” she cried sharply. +“And did you meet any one on the road? Was there any +one waiting at the Chase when you got there?”</p> + +<p>“No. There was not, to my knowledge—any one!” +with an exact imitation of her tone. “No one either met +or waylaid us.”</p> + +<p>So that was the reason of the tears! Madam Sylvia +had somehow tricked the girl into coming here, and now +was frightened into her little shoes for fear she had not +stayed long enough. For Lady Annesley’s smile, for +once, was absent.</p> + +<p>“Tell them to get my carriage, will you?” she said +slowly. “I must go, too. That foolish, headstrong girl +of mine may be ill. Perhaps you will come over to-morrow?”</p> + +<p>To-morrow Lord Levallion had meant should see him +in London. He shook his head for sole answer, but decided +to wait a day all the same.</p> + +<p>“Your stepdaughter seemed in excellent health when +I left her,” he observed, turning away to send for her +ladyship’s carriage. “But, all the same, I dare say you +are wise to get home!”</p> + +<p>She looked quite old, he saw, in her sudden anxiety, +and he wondered cynically just what ailed her, for she +scarcely said good-by as he saw her into her shabby +fly.</p> + +<p>That vehicle seemed to crawl to its impatient occupant. +But at last she reached her own door, with as +quick a step as Ravenel’s own, her room, where the Umbrella +sat limply waiting.</p> + +<p>“Adams, what time did Miss Annesley get home?” +she demanded sharply. “Was there any one here? +Quick! Any one?”</p> + +<p>The Umbrella rose stolidly.</p> + +<p>“Not when Miss Annesley came,” she said slowly, +and her hearer thought she did it on purpose. “Everything +has been all quite right, my lady. A gentleman +called, though, and left his card.”</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t matter,” sharply, but she glanced at it with +such relief that her head swam, before she tore it to +pieces. “It was no one I minded missing.”</p> + +<p>“No, my lady.” And if there was the familiarity of +a confidante in the woman’s tone Lady Annesley did +not notice it, nor that she neatly collected the bits of +torn card off the floor.</p> + +<p>Her ladyship felt really dizzy with fatigue, or emotion, +as she flung herself into a chair.</p> + +<p>“I’ll dine up here,” she said slowly. It was all right +and her net seemed to have caught Levallion, but such +days were ageing. She had fought her Waterloo, and +she felt the reaction even of victory. Tired to death, +the weight of the rings on her slender hands felt unbearable. +Her ladyship rose softly and hastily and locked +the gorgeous things away.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">HER WEDDING-DAY.</p> + + +<p>Half-past two o’clock, and her wedding-day!</p> + +<p>Ravenel Annesley looked at herself in the glass curiously +as at another person. She had on a clean white +duck dress—having looked with a shudder at yesterday’s +unlucky silk and muslin—nothing of her stepmother’s +should go to her adorning on her wedding-day! But +in her plain white gown she was lovely, and with a keen +thrill of joy she knew it. Thank God, Adrian’s bride +was pretty, even if she went to him in a cotton gown!</p> + +<p>And in half an hour she would see him; tell him of +her lost ring—for, think as she might, she could not see +how either Lady Annesley or her maid could have taken +or even seen it; her cotton slip bodice had been carefully +buttoned over it—of yesterday’s party, and of how she +had waited vainly for him. She opened her door and +stole through the house. She would not take Tommy. +She would go alone to church with Adrian; all alone, +would promise and vow to be his always. She hurried +through the garden and down to the back gate.</p> + +<p>It was early still, and silly to expect him; yet she had +a foolish pang of disappointment as she looked up and +down the empty white road outside.</p> + +<p>“He’ll be here in a minute,” she said to herself confidently, +“and then I’ll feel happy again. I hope he won’t +be angry about that ring. And I wish I knew how I +lost it!”</p> + +<p>She sat down in the shade just inside the gate and lost +herself in a happy dream. Some day—soon perhaps—Adrian +would come back from India, and carry her and +Tommy off under her ladyship’s nose, who could go +anywhere she pleased, for the Chase was certain to be +sold over her head.</p> + +<p>“And I shouldn’t care. I’ve been too wretched here,” +she thought passionately. And then something startled +her.</p> + +<p>The stable clock had rung. Why was Adrian late, +who was always so early?</p> + +<p>“I never knew how awful it was to wait!” she cried, +springing up. “I feel as if I couldn’t sit still. I’ll walk +up and down till I count a thousand steps, and then I’ll +look at the road again.”</p> + +<p>But she paced a thousand steps, and a thousand again; +there was no sign of Adrian Gordon.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” in spite of herself she trembled, “it can’t be +going to be like yesterday. He must be coming.”</p> + +<p>Her heart quaking, she wished she had brought Tommy. +This was too awful. The tears came to her eyes. +She could not walk any longer, yet how could she sit +still? She shivered in the hot, sweet sun.</p> + +<p>“Oh, Adrian, hurry!” she whispered childishly, as if +he must hear her; and then sat down on the green bank +by the road as if she were suddenly weak. For the +stable clock had struck four.</p> + +<p>It was a long lane, and no one passed by to see a girl +in a white frock sitting on the grass, careless of greening +the spotless whiteness of her wedding-gown; no one +looked with a wondering eye at the sick despair in her +face, as she sat dumb and motionless—waiting for the +man who by this time should have been her husband.</p> + +<p>When the slow clock rang six, Ravenel Annesley got +up, steadying herself carefully. She was chilly and stiff, +and though she did not know it, broken-hearted.</p> + +<p>Truth and honor and love, dead letters to her, she +looked once more down the quiet lane to the quarry, +where she and Adrian Gordon had kissed with lips that +were quick and kind. Well, he had spoken the truth +when he said she would have but a poor wedding-day!</p> + +<p>She crept home at last, white as her cotton gown. +With only one thought—to get unseen to her own room—she +went into the house through the open window of +the drawing-room, where no one ever sat. But to-day +it was, for once, occupied.</p> + +<p>Fairly inside the French window before she saw the +two people in the room, she turned whiter than ever.</p> + +<p>Lady Annesley, in her best tea-gown, drinking tea; +and beside her, the low sun full on his handsome, sneering +face, the strange man who had driven her home +last evening. Ravenel, by instinct, put up her hand to +cover her trembling lip. In her white gown, with her +whiter face, she looked like a ghost as she stood staring.</p> + +<p>Lord Levallion had the grace not to look at her as +he came forward, and took her cold, indifferent hand. +Lady Annesley put down her cup pettishly.</p> + +<p>“Why do you never come in by the door like a Christian?” +she said. “You quite startled me. Lord Levallion +has come over to ask how you are—after yesterday!”</p> + +<p>Lord Levallion? So this was he. Well, it was all +one to her! There was only one man in all the world +who mattered to Ravenel Annesley, and he had forsaken +her. She turned to go, stumbling on the window-sill.</p> + +<p>“Come and sit down. You look tired to death,” commanded +Lady Annesley, and the taunt stung her stepdaughter. +If her world had gone to pieces like a pack +of cards, there was no reason that her ladyship should +know it! She turned, sat down on the first chair she +came to, and met Lord Levallion’s eyes turned on her +curiously.</p> + +<p>“Have you been walking? It’s too hot to walk,” he +observed languidly. “I got up early this morning and +took my exercise: rode over to have breakfast with Captain +Gordon of the —— Hussars. Do you know him?”</p> + +<p>Lady Annesley was livid in her fright. She had not +dared confide in Levallion—and what was going to be +the result?</p> + +<p>“Yes, I know him,” Ravenel said evenly. She had +her hat in her lap and was playing with the pin out of +it.</p> + +<p>“You know he went off to India to-day, then, by the +first train for Southampton. I rather took him by surprise, +for he left me in London. I can’t say I had a +cheerful breakfast. Every one seemed so cast down at +his leaving—but I enjoyed my ride.”</p> + +<p>Thank God she could not get any paler! And the +Annesleys were ever proud. This one, who was but a +child and hurt to the heart, kept her face steady.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she said, and her voice sounded quite natural, +for she heard it as though it were some one else’s. +“Why? Was Captain Gordon dull?”</p> + +<p>“Extremely noisy, on the contrary. Delighted, evidently, +to be getting away.”</p> + +<p>But she heard Levallion’s answer through the whirl +of a hundred thoughts that seemed to sound and move in +her head. Adrian had gone to India!—gone without +a word of good-by, broken all his promises, forsaken +her with a false, lying letter. Oh, Adrian, Adrian!</p> + +<p>Desperately, like a savage, Ravenel stuck her steel +hat-pin straight into her finger, and the sharp pain +steadied her. She must not—dare not—think of him +now. Whatever happened she must be brave before her +ladyship and Levallion. And that wild cry at her heart +was stifling her. Oh, Adrian—Adrian!</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter? Have you cut your hand?” cried +her stepmother shrilly. Levallion was no fool; he had +probably put two and two together already! She was +thankful to see a tangible reason for the girl’s strange +pallor and quietude.</p> + +<p>Ravenel nodded. Not for anything in the world could +she have spoken without giving voice to that cry in her +soul to Adrian Gordon, who was on the sea.</p> + +<p>If Sylvia Annesley had known it, nothing else in the +world would have so softened Lord Levallion’s heart to +the girl she meant him to marry as the sight of her sitting +pale as death and as proud.</p> + +<p>“God! there’s stuff in the child!” he reflected swiftly. +“And I’ll help her. Madam Sylvia’s been up to some +low trick with her, I’ll lay my life!” but his voice was +cooler than usual as he quietly cut off another question +from that much-tried woman.</p> + +<p>“That pin has gone through your finger, Miss Annesley,” +he interposed quietly. “You should go at once +and bathe it with hot water. They are nasty things—hat-pins,” +and he rose composedly and opened the door +for Ravenel to leave the room.</p> + +<p>If any one had told her three days ago that she would +ever have been grateful to Lord Levallion she would +have laughed in their face. But now she looked at him +as a caged bird might do when suddenly set free; like +the bird, slipped through the door he had opened for +her, dumb and dazed, but—thank God!—safe away from +Sylvia’s eyes.</p> + +<p>Lord Levallion returned to his seat.</p> + +<p>“What have you been doing to that child, Sylvia?” +he inquired harshly. “You have delicately suggested +you would like me to marry her, but I warn you it is no +use trying to force either her or me into it. If I want +to marry her I shall, but it’s not any too likely. And +the more you scheme the less I shall probably oblige +you.”</p> + +<p>“What makes you think anything so absurd?” angrily.</p> + +<p>“My dear lady, I put two and two together. First, +you write to me, and I have not heard from you for +years. Then you are eager that I should meet the girl. +Last, I come here, and find you poor—unbearably poor, +for you! And a good marriage for the girl would mean +a competence for you, and I am the only man you know +with money. So you find out I am staying with the +duchess, dress your lamb for the slaughter, and make +her life miserable so that she will fly to my arms. Eh, +Sylvia?” slowly.</p> + +<p>Lady Annesley grew redder than her rouge. Levallion +was too shrewd for once, and overshot himself. But it +was better he should think Ravenel unhappy at home +than suspect she was sick for the sight of Adrian Gordon.</p> + +<p>“I—we—don’t get on! It is a grief to me,” she said +prettily.</p> + +<p>Levallion smiled. Any other man would have laughed +outright; but he was not given to laughter. Fancy Sylvia—Sylvia!—scheming +and match-making for him. It +was better than any play. She had been clever, too, to +have found out that he was thinking of marrying. He +was forty-seven years old, and had no one to inherit +either title or estates but his second cousin. If Lady +Annesley had known her peerage better, she might have +thought twice of meddling with Adrian Gordon’s love-affairs.</p> + +<p>“I should advise you to try and get on—while I am +here,” he broke the pause abruptly. “I do not like jars +and tears.”</p> + +<p>Lady Annesley trembled. She saw her dreams of +Levallion’s country houses and a comfortable allowance—above +all, a position as Lady Levallion’s mother—fading +into thin air.</p> + +<p>“The girl is dull here,” she said. “I can’t help it. +She wants a change, I suppose, and I can’t give it to +her.”</p> + +<p>“Take her to town for a week.”</p> + +<p>Her ladyship looked at him, her beautiful delicate face +for once sincere.</p> + +<p>“Walk there, camp in Piccadilly, walk home again!” +she observed. “What a delightful program! That is the +only way I could manage it.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps so,” returned Lord Levallion equably, and +rose to go. He had his own thoughts on the subject, but +as yet they did not burn to be made public. He meant +to come over again before he went to town himself, but +he did not mention that, either. He would not come to +see Sylvia, nor did he wish to be considered her ally.</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas Annesley, from a convenient post on the +stairs, watched the visitor’s exit, and then repaired with +haste to his sister’s room.</p> + +<p>“Ravenel, let me in, I say!” he demanded, pounding +on the door.</p> + +<p>But he got no answer.</p> + +<p>Ravenel, face down, lay on her bed convulsed with rage +and shame to think that she should be crying herself +sick for Adrian Gordon, who had left her like a dog he +was tired of—left her with lying promises he had not +cared to keep—and taken the best part of her with him.</p> + +<p>“Ravenel, let me in, can’t you? I want to speak to +you!” Sir Thomas’ persistent pounding reached her deaf +ears at last.</p> + +<p>She got up trembling and began to bathe her stained +face with cold water.</p> + +<p>“I can’t, Tommy! I—I’m washing,” she called out +angrily.</p> + +<p>“Well, hurry up and I’ll wait!”</p> + +<p>Ravenel, sponge in hand, flung the door open.</p> + +<p>“Come in and be done!” she cried. “What is it?”</p> + +<p>Her face was blotched and patchy with crying, and +the boy’s eyes kindled as he saw it.</p> + +<p>“What’s that brute Levallion been saying to you?” +he demanded. “And what’s Gordon gone off for like +this?”</p> + +<p>“He’s gone off because he’s sick of me; he’s thrown +me over.” She spoke brutally. She was not going to +gloss things over to Tommy. “And Lord Levallion +hasn’t done anything. He’s the only decent person I +know,” with which the door banged once more in Sir +Thomas’ face.</p> + +<p>Gordon sick of her—and Levallion decent! The boy +was dumb with amazement. She would be praising her +ladyship next. He went slowly away and sought Mr. +Jacobs.</p> + +<p>“My good dog,” he said disgustedly to that villainous +animal, “there’s going to be trouble!”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">A VERY CLEVER PERSON.</p> + + +<p>Lord Levallion and the Duchess of Avonmore sat at +breakfast in the duchess’ own sitting-room. It was one +of her habits seldom to breakfast with her guests, but +to have one chosen companion at her own table. Avonmore +was Liberty Hall since the death of the duke, who +had not been exactly a comfortable partner for his handsome +wife. She never allowed, even to herself, that she +was happier without him, but the world knew it, as it +knows everything unpublished.</p> + +<p>She sat now in a Norfolk jacket and a short skirt, making +an extensive breakfast. Since seven o’clock she had +been tramping from her dairy to her hen walks, as +thriftily as any farmer’s wife. But her handsome, +weather-beaten face, with its shrewd, keen eyes, and +her beautifully dressed white hair, made her look dignified, +in spite of her short skirts and her full-blown +figure.</p> + +<p>Lord Levallion was drinking a cup of tea—very slowly—and +looking at some dry toast with distaste. He had +not been trudging in the morning air, and had had a bad +night into the bargain. But the duchess and he were +old friends, and he did not trouble himself to make conversation.</p> + +<p>She shook her head at him as she saw his untouched +breakfast.</p> + +<p>“That’s not the way to get to a green old age, Levallion!” +she observed as she took a second helping of +bacon. “But I suppose it’s London habits that stick by +you. Are you really off this morning?” He nodded.</p> + +<p>“Surely you’re coming up again soon?” inquiringly, +for she had been tempted into the country for a week by +the perfect weather, and had stayed to give her yearly +garden-party and get it over. “You will be losing the +cream of things!</p> + +<p>“I’m going up next week. To tell you the truth, +Levallion, I feel lonely when I get to my town house +and haven’t my dairy and my chickens to amuse me! It’s +a big, desolate barrack, you know, and I hate it. If I’d +had a daughter to bring out it might be different,” wistfully, +“but without a chick or a child what are town +parties to me?”</p> + +<p>“Adopt one!” said Levallion, not unkindly.</p> + +<p>The duchess shook her head.</p> + +<p>“Too risky! But I thought of having some girl to +stay with me, if I could find the right girl.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve two nieces!” Levallion was clever; not a +tone of his uninterested voice betrayed that he had an +object in his idle talk.</p> + +<p>“Odious brats!” returned the duchess sharply. They +were the late duke’s nieces, not hers. “I couldn’t stand +either of them for a day. The only girl I’ve seen and +taken a fancy to is that nice-looking child of old Tom +Annesley’s. But I don’t want to have any dealings with +that yellow-haired stepmother of hers. I beg your pardon, +Levallion! I forgot you were a friend of hers.”</p> + +<p>Lord Levallion looked up, a curious expression on +his pale, handsome face.</p> + +<p>“You need not beg my pardon,” he said. “But I assure +you Lady Annesley is—a very clever person!”</p> + +<p>“She’s a detestable one!” retorted the duchess smartly. +“And I don’t think those children have much of a life +with her. I declare, you might have knocked me down +with a feather when I saw the girl here in a decent gown +the other day! Usually her clothes are disgraceful; last +winter that woman used to let her go about blue with +cold.” Her grace of Avonmore, being a duchess, did not +trouble to talk like one, except to people she disliked. +And she had a soft spot for Levallion, in spite of his +record.</p> + +<p>His lordship hid a grin in his teacup. So he had been +correct in his little idea that it was for him Sylvia had +prepared her lamb!</p> + +<p>“Miss Annesley looked hopelessly unhappy in her fine +clothes,” he said smoothly, “but extraordinarily handsome, +in spite of her tears.” He pulled himself up +sharply as if the last word had slipped out unawares.</p> + +<p>“Tears!” The duchess stared at him. “What do you +mean? I remember now. She never said good-by to +me. I don’t like to think of Tom Annesley’s girl crying +at my party. How do you know?”</p> + +<p>“Saw her,” laconically. “Gave her some good advice +and drove her home. She never spoke to me the whole +way.”</p> + +<p>A light dawned on the duchess.</p> + +<p>“So that,” she observed slowly, “was where you went +to! You’re not a good friend for any girl, Levallion, +and I won’t have it with Tom’s daughter. Mind that! +I shall drive over and see that child this afternoon. I’ve +been a neglectful old woman not to have looked after +her before.”</p> + +<p>She pushed away her empty plate and got up. Levallion +strolled meekly to the window, where he lit a cigarette. +The duchess was a good woman, and Sylvia Annesley +was—otherwise! But it was the latter who had +discovered he was ready to marry and settle down at +last. The duchess only remembered the women he had +compromised; it never struck her that he might actually +think of marrying a little country girl of eighteen. If +it had, she would probably have put a spoke in his +wheel; to have known Levallion for thirty years was not +to envy his future countess.</p> + +<p>Yet to marry Ravenel Annesley was the only thought +the man had. The day before he had cleverly evaded +Sylvia and paid an impromptu visit to Annesley Chase +by the back gate; a piece of diplomacy for which he was +rewarded by coming straight on Ravenel in the garden.</p> + +<p>She was alone; her little chin had lifted angrily when +she saw him, but the next moment she was ashamed. +After all, he had been kind to her twice. She had nothing +against him except that he was a friend of Sylvia’s.</p> + +<p>Levallion was too wise to stay long, though there +were no tears—and no hat-pins!—to-day. Her face was +as cold as his lordship’s own, and her indifference more +real. He might go or stay, as he liked—and he knew it.</p> + +<p>But he carried away with him the memory of her +strangely quiet face, uncannily, clearly pale as she walked +up and down the garden paths.</p> + +<p>“There goes Lady Levallion!” he thought, as certainly +as if she stood by him at the altar. “And the sooner +she is away from that devil Sylvia the better. Sylvia +was always a genius at making people miserable, and the +girl looks as though she beat her!”</p> + +<p>In spite of his acuteness, he never thought—or, perhaps, +would not have cared if he had—that another +man had been the cause of that white face and somber +eyes; nor that he himself had never seen the real Ravenel +Annesley, all life and laughter, but only the ghost of a +girl whose youth was dead in her. It annoyed him to fall +in with Sylvia’s schemes, but, after all, that was a trifle; +and he knew how to cut her claws a little. Therefore, +with security and determination, Levallion laid siege to +the duchess; and he smiled calmly as she bade good-by +to him.</p> + +<p>“Au revoir till next week,” he said, as they shook +hands.</p> + +<p>“Humph!” her grace coughed dryly. “I’ll send for you +when I want you, my dear Levallion.”</p> + +<p>Levallion chuckled when he got, rather stiffly, into +the carriage. He was warned off. That meant Tom Annesley’s +daughter was to be asked to Avonmore House. +His lordship was more pleased than by a dozen cordial +invitations.</p> + +<p>The duchess, the instant his back was turned, proceeded +to Annesley Chase in state, though she would far +rather have gone on her bicycle. Lady Annesley was, +providentially, out. Miss Annesley—Adams did not +know.</p> + +<p>“Then find out, my good girl,” remarked the duchess +calmly sweeping by her into the house. She was not +to be turned from Tom Annesley’s door by the servant +of his twopenny second wife. “And fetch Sir Thomas,” +majestically.</p> + +<p>But Tommy had seen her coming and arrived hastily +on the scene. He looked worried, and the duchess saw it.</p> + +<p>“Where’s your sister, Tommy?” she said kindly.</p> + +<p>The boy looked at her. She was the oldest friend they +had, but even so, his sister’s secret was her own.</p> + +<p>“She’s in the garden; she’s not very well,” he returned +loyally. If Ravenel were fretting for Gordon there was +no good in saying so. “Shall I call her for you?”</p> + +<p>“Suppose we go to her!” slipping a stout arm through +his. “Not well? What’s the matter with her?”</p> + +<p>Tommy was appalled for one instant.</p> + +<p>“Dyspepsia,” he said stoutly, with a flash of genius.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” commented the duchess dryly. “Very like a +whale in a butter-boat,” she added to herself, as she +glanced at Ravenel, who rose from her knees in the garden +as she heard the rustle of the duchess’ silk-lined +skirts on the gravel.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon for not coming in,” the girl faltered. +“I thought you were Lady Annesley.” She +looked doubtfully at her earthy hands and the visitor’s +smart, white gloves.</p> + +<p>The duchess, in spite of her parting words to Levallion, +had not come with any definite purpose; but the sight +of the girl’s white face and hard-set lips—more than all +the glance of shuddering aversion she had given her, +thinking she was her stepmother—brought a sudden rush +of motherly tears to her kind, worldly-wise eyes.</p> + +<p>“Never mind your hands!” she cried, sitting down on +a wicker chair that creaked under her; “nor Lady Annesley +either. I didn’t come to see her—I suppose there’s +no one about to hear such treason!” with a hasty glance +behind her. “I came to see you. I didn’t think you +looked well the other day at my house”—really, the girl’s +fresh beauty had astounded her—“and I came to ask you +and Tommy to take pity on a lonely old woman and +come to London with me for a month,” with a nod at +the two which set the green and pink feathers on her +smart bonnet wagging. “What do you say?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, my eye—rather!” Sir Thomas forgot his manners +in his joy. But the duchess was looking at Ravenel. +She had not been prepared to see such a change in the +pale, sick face.</p> + +<p>To get away from Lady Annesley and the place that +had grown hateful to her for a whole month—she and +Tommy! A slow red burned into her cheeks at the +thought, but a second after her face fell again. She +could not go; she had no clothes fit to wear. Tommy +was different; a boy did not matter. But she herself had +not so much as a decent pair of gloves to wear up in +the train.</p> + +<p>“We—that is, I can’t!” she blurted out miserably.</p> + +<p>“Why not? Because you’ve nothing to wear?” +shrewdly.</p> + +<p>“No!” with no truth and a red face, for her old friend +must not think she was begging. “I just can’t.”</p> + +<p>“Do you want to come?” slowly.</p> + +<p>No answer. The girl’s lip was trembling at the kindness +of the motherly voice.</p> + +<p>The duchess looked at her.</p> + +<p>“You do! Then that’s all right,” cheerfully. “As for +gowns, I mean to give you those. I haven’t got any +one to spend my money on except some horrid chits of +nieces who don’t need it. That will be half the pleasure +of having you. And I’ll settle it with your stepmother.”</p> + +<p>But Ravenel was crying—sobbing from her sick heart +against the duchess’ smart shoulder.</p> + +<p>“My dear, I know,” said that soft-hearted lady incoherently, +muttering to herself things about “that +woman, who did not know how to treat Tom’s child.” +And she had, like Levallion before her, never an inkling +of Adrian Gordon’s part in the play.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">HER LADYSHIP SHUFFLES THE CARDS.</p> + + +<p>Lady Annesley sat in speechless fury over the note +that arrived from the duchess the very next morning.</p> + +<p>About her was spread her whole wardrobe, which she +had been looking over with the eye of a born milliner, +quite certain that Levallion’s hints about London had +meant he would give her the money to take Ravenel +there. And this—with a vicious glance at the duchess’ +letter—was their real meaning!</p> + +<p>“For, of course, it’s all Levallion!” She drummed +angrily on her knee with slim, white fingers. “I have +half a mind to checkmate him. He might, considering +everything, have sent me to town. But for me he never +would have seen his pink-and-white doll.”</p> + +<p>She threw the duchess’ letter on a table, where it hit +a pile of other letters—blue enveloped, ominous—and +sent them rustling to the floor. They were merely the +quarter’s bills from the butcher and the wine-merchant +for those luxuries Sylvia Annesley could never deny herself, +but she picked them up with a vicious hand.</p> + +<p>“It’s well for you, Levallion, that I haven’t a penny +to pay these, or you might whistle for my lovely stepdaughter!” +she said aloud. “But I can’t stand five more +years like this before Tom comes of age. Five more +years of dulness, of skimping, without a soul to speak +to, and then the prospect of turning out of this and living +on nothing a week in lodgings—no! it’s not to be done!”</p> + +<p>She went to the glass and looked at herself feverishly, +pushing back her curled golden hair from her temples, +dragging up the blinds till the unkind daylight made her +look every hour of her age.</p> + +<p>“I’m getting old—old and hideous!” she stamped with +passion. “I who love youth and good looks and life. +Why did I ever bury myself here with the old fool who’s +dead? Oh, I want to go out into the world again—to +live! To dine, dress, and gamble, to make fools of men—that +is life. And that girl’s marriage to Levallion is +the only way I shall ever see it again. He shall marry +her if I have to swallow my pride ten times over. He’d +have to give me an allowance that would not disgrace +Lady Levallion’s mother! Ravenel shall go to the +duchess; Levallion will take care no other man gets a +chance at her”—in spite of her rage with him, she was +secure in her old knowledge of his cleverness—“and I +will stay here and try to help things on!” with a pale +smile.</p> + +<p>She went to the door and locked it, then to her dressing-case +and dragged out a photograph. For a minute +she stood and stared at it, biting her lips.</p> + +<p>“I can’t do anything with it,” she thought angrily. +“And I daren’t trust any one—but——” With swift +inspiration a thought had come to her.</p> + +<p>“Hester Murray!” she cried half-aloud. “Hester can +tell her a bit of—truth! The silly old duchess will never +imagine that Hester and I are old acquaintances—Hester, +who runs in and out of Avonmore to help me; if she +doesn’t I’ll make an unpleasant squall in the Murray +mansion. This match-making,” with a little laugh, “is +most amusing.”</p> + +<p>Her ill humor gone utterly, she sat down at her writing-table +and constructed a letter to make her old friend +shake in her shoes, in spite of its affection. She sealed +up her letter and the photograph, for Hester might not +have one, and then turned her attention to something +else.</p> + +<p>“I have a great mind to get rid of Adams,” she +thought. “She is getting beyond herself. But I’ll wait +a little; she might talk. And, after all, ‘better a devil +you know than a devil you don’t know’!” forcibly. +“Though I doubt if Hester will think so,” with a curious +look, as if something had come back from the past and +pleased her.</p> + +<p>“Well,” she said half-aloud, “I suppose the duchess +will deck out my dear stepdaughter in purple and fine +linen, but unless I want to look a beast, I suppose I ought +to provide her with at least one gown. I, who haven’t +two coins to rub together nowadays. She wouldn’t wear +my clothes if I gave them to her, and I’ve no desire to +part with them. I don’t care to interview her, either. +She does hate me so!” for her ladyship’s wits at least +were young still, whatever her eyes might be.</p> + +<p>“I must do the best I can,” she said thoughtfully; and +there alone in the little rose-colored room did a curious +thing, for Lady Annesley, not for a woman who loved +her dead husband’s child. She took a ruby ring from +her finger and slipped it in a note quickly written and +addressed to her stepdaughter. It was a simple little +effort enough, saying merely that she had received from +the duchess an invitation for Tom and Ravenel to spend +a month with her in London and would accept for them +with pleasure if they cared to go.</p> + +<p>“As for gowns,” it ran, “I will do the best I can for +you, but as that may be small just now, I send you this +ring, which you can wear or turn into money, as you +choose. It is one your father gave me. I would send +for you to talk over your frocks, but my neuralgia is +terrific to-day.”</p> + +<p>She rang for Adams to deliver the note and waited +for her to come back with a curious anxiety. It looked +well to be generous, but she hated giving away her rubies. +It seemed half a year before the maid returned with—yes—with +a note!</p> + +<p>Lady Annesley tore it open, and her strained lips +grew triumphant. She had been generous at no cost +whatever.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Thank you very much”—Ravenel had written with +furious haste, having no mind for any more of her ladyship’s +gifts—“but I don’t want to keep your ring. I send +it back in this. You had better wear it yourself.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +“<span class="smcap">Ravenel.</span>”<br> +</p> +</div> + +<p>That was absolutely all. Lady Annesley slipped her +recovered ring on her finger.</p> + +<p>“You can go, Adams,” she said carelessly. But when +she was alone she laughed a laugh that showed her gums.</p> + +<p>“I’ll have my house in town,” she gasped. “You’re +a clever man, Levallion, but you’ll never know who is +helping me to get you married. I’ll take care that you +go on thinking me a fool. But to make Hester Murray +help to get you—it’s too good!” She wiped her eyes +where she sat helpless with laughter.</p> + +<p>“Hester!” she murmured, “of all people.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">“A BIT OF THE TRUTH.”</p> + + +<p>The Duchess of Avonmore was worried.</p> + +<p>She had carried her point and walked off Tom Annesley’s +children to her big town house in Park Lane. +She had given Ravenel such dresses as her own nieces +would have sold their souls for, had done her best to +make each day more pleasant than the last, and the only +result was that one fine morning she sat alone with Ravenel, +absolutely at a loss.</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas was perfectly happy, new clothes and a +horse to ride having made his countenance to shine as +the sun. But Ravenel! the poor duchess sighed.</p> + +<p>The girl was pathetically grateful for the benefits +showered on her, and showed a clinging affection for the +duchess that came near to bringing the tears to that good +woman’s eyes; but there was no happiness in her face. +She went everywhere; she was gay as if by an effort that +sapped her strength, for each day she grew paler, her +lovely lips more hard set. There was neither elation +nor triumph in her eyes when women envied her or men +admired her.</p> + +<p>“Most girls would be off their heads with pleasure,” +reflected the duchess. “That woman must have broken +her spirit somehow. I wish I could find out what ails +her.”</p> + +<p>Tommy could have enlightened her, but he had been +sworn to keep his mouth shut. And in the dark the poor +duchess did the very worst thing possible.</p> + +<p>“Ravenel,” she said cheerfully, “here’s an invitation +for you. Mrs. Murray wants you to lunch with her to-day. +She is a great friend of mine—poor little woman! +She will cheer you up.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t need it,” with a grateful glance. She would +rather have stayed with Tommy, but the duchess did not +like her plans gainsaid.</p> + +<p>Ravenel, getting out of the carriage at the door of Mrs. +Murray’s small house in Eaton Place, stood on the doorstep +just long enough for her pale-pink gown to catch +the eye of a man lounging at a window in the opposite +house.</p> + +<p>“Humph!” said Lord Levallion curiously, “what’s the +meaning of this? Nothing, I suppose, but that Grace +Avonmore’s an idiot!”</p> + +<p>He watched the girl in and rang for his servant.</p> + +<p>“I’ll lunch up here, Lacy,” he said curtly, “and I’m +not at home to visitors.”</p> + +<p>At that moment Ravenel stood in a small room so full +of flowers and pale silk cushions that she wondered why +the duchess had said Mrs. Murray was poor. Even Ravenel +Annesley saw the money that had been lavished in +that luxurious drawing-room.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Murray rose to greet her. She had every reason +to oblige Lady Annesley by being civil to her stepdaughter. +Sylvia was a poor friend and a good enemy, +and Mrs. Murray’s footing in smart society was precarious +enough. Little did the duchess imagine how +much her countenance did for “Bob Murray’s poor wife.” +Without it people might have said for “poor Bob Murray’s +wife.”</p> + +<p>“My dear Miss Annesley,” she said—and was nearly +overwhelmed at the dazzling beauty of the girl—“this is +too good of you. I have been longing to see you, but +I have been so unlucky.”</p> + +<p>“It is very kind of you to have me. The duchess is +busy to-day,” and no one would have known the voice +and manner for Ravenel’s.</p> + +<p>Something in the air of the room seemed choking her, +something cried loudly in her ear that the very pains +of death lay waiting for her at the hands of this small, +dainty woman with the clear blue eyes and pink cheeks.</p> + +<p>“She is so energetic.” Mrs. Murray laughed wonderingly. +“I don’t know how she does it. I hope you won’t +be bored lunching alone with me. The duchess said we +might go to Hurlingham afterward!”—where Mrs. Murray +in the Avonmore carriage would sail serenely over +her detractors.</p> + +<p>“Whatever you like.” Ravenel looked at the slight +figure of her hostess in an innocent fawn-colored gown, +and wondered why she did not like her. Lord Levallion +could have told her, but so far he had not shown himself +on the Avonmore House horizon. She sat down at +luncheon almost sullenly, and by degrees, in spite of herself, +thawed. Few people had Hester Murray’s manner +when she chose, and on her success with this listless, +beautiful girl her future depended. Sylvia was viciously +unscrupulous, and the trifle she asked should be done +well.</p> + +<p>Besides, it was amusing! Mrs. Murray hated girls, +and this one looked at the rich appointments of the dining-room +far too cleverly when her hostess murmured +something about her small means.</p> + +<p>“I don’t call this poor,” Ravenel said calmly. “You +should see us at home.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I try not to look poor!” sweetly. “I really manage +my poor Bob’s income very well. I am quite proud +of my housekeeping.”</p> + +<p>She had excellent reason, if drunken Bob Murray’s +uncertain income paid the bills. Every one—but the +duchess—knew it did not, but no one was clever enough +to know just what did. If Sylvia were not pleased all +London would know—and more besides. Mrs. Murray +rose gracefully from the luncheon-table.</p> + +<p>“It is a crime for you to be poor,” she said with pretty +flattery, “for a middle-aged person like me it doesn’t so +much matter; though I don’t know,” sighing. “Physical +comfort makes up for a good many sorrows.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think so.” Ravenel, with every wish gratified +and a raging pain at her heart, could not keep back the +cry.</p> + +<p>“You will some day,” musingly. “But, my dear girl, +don’t let us moralize! I will go and put on my hat. Perhaps +you can amuse yourself till I come back.”</p> + +<p>There was a glass over the mantelpiece, and under +it a long row of framed photographs. Mechanically, as +soon as she was alone, Ravenel looked to see if her big +black hat were straight. Even misery does not allow a +girl to go about with a crooked hat.</p> + +<p>But after the first glance at the crowded mantelshelf, +where gold and silver and ivory frames jostled each +other, she took no more thought to her apparel.</p> + +<p>In front of her, staring her in the face, was a likeness +of Adrian Gordon. She had no photograph of him and +this strange woman had. The girl’s throat thickened—filled.</p> + +<p>He had played with her, thrown her over, made her +a laughing-stock to herself; yet his pictured face sickened +her with longing. She could have followed him +through the world, just to see him sometimes, never +even asking to speak to him. In a passion of despair +she seized the photograph and kissed it as she had never +kissed Adrian Gordon in life.</p> + +<p>“Adrian,” she whispered, “there must have been something +I didn’t know to make you leave me like that! You +didn’t really—Adrian!” The incoherent, senseless words +left her shaking. She had no time to put down the +photograph as Mrs. Murray came in, but stood with +blazing cheeks and the living light of passion in her eyes, +that had been so indifferent.</p> + +<p>“Do you know him?” she said, caring for nothing but +to hear whatever she could of him, even from a stranger.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Murray laughed.</p> + +<p>“Adrian—Captain Gordon—do you mean? He is +very good-looking, isn’t he? Of course, I know him; +do you?”</p> + +<p>Ravenel turned and, very carefully, replaced the picture. +Her back was toward her hostess, but her face +was plain in the mirror. Her mouth felt so stiff she could +scarcely speak.</p> + +<p>“I know him—a little; he has gone to India, I think.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; poor man, I fancy he had to! Mrs. Gordon,” +airily, “is not a cheap luxury.”</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Gordon!” the room swam. “Do you mean he +was married?”</p> + +<p>“It was a boyish madness, if he was; but Mrs. Gordon +exists, I’m afraid. Don’t, for Heaven’s sake, say +I told you; it would ruin him with Lord Levallion. She +is very unhappy, and has been a frightful drain on Captain +Gordon. But I must say it hasn’t prevented his +enjoying himself. Poor Adrian is one of the most hopeless +flirts I know. You won’t,” pleadingly, “say anything +to Levallion?”</p> + +<p>Ravenel looked at her. It was queer how cold she +felt, and how passionless—now she knew why Adrian +had not come.</p> + +<p>“The ‘gay Gordons’ are a proverb, aren’t they?” she +said, and found she could smile quite easily. “Captain +Gordon is only an acquaintance of mine; you may be +sure I shall not mention him to Lord Levallion, whom I +barely know.” For a moment her manner staggered +even Hester Murray, till she saw the girl’s face had +grown haggard.</p> + +<p>“One can’t tell all one knows,” she said lightly. “Shall +we go out now?”</p> + +<p>She was elated as she followed her guest to the carriage, +for she had obliged Sylvia and not told one lie. +Adrian had certainly given Mrs. Gordon money he could +ill spare. And she knew Ravenel would never mention +the subject to Levallion. It had been a good day’s work. +But if Hester Murray had only known just what she had +done at Sylvia’s bidding she would have cut off her +right hand sooner than have meddled. If she had even +known why Lord Levallion was looking at her from the +opposite window, as she got into the carriage, would have +given all she owned to undo her work.</p> + +<p>“It’s time that child was looked after,” he reflected +as the open carriage drove off. He had a dislike to seeing +anything ill-treated that was odd in so hard a man; +and Sylvia—“I think it’s time I took a hand in the game,” +he said aloud. “And I do not consider Mrs. Murray a +proper friend for the future Lady Levallion.”</p> + +<p>And it might have been better for all concerned if +Hester Murray could have heard him.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">REVENGE—AND A BALLROOM.</p> + + +<p>The Duchess of Avonmore was giving a ball, and she +prided herself on giving the best balls in London.</p> + +<p>The big house was a fairy-land of flowers and lights, +the staircase was impassable. Ravenel, standing by her +hostess in a white satin gown with a string of the Avonmore +pearls round her neck, was beautiful enough to +take away a man’s breath. The duchess, swelling with +pride in blue velvet and diamonds, was enraptured at her +looks, for there had been no want of animation in Ravenel +ever since that visit to Hester Murray. She was +feverishly gay and full of laughter. Not even Sir +Thomas knew her spirits came from pride alone.</p> + +<p>No wonder Adrian Gordon had jilted her, and no +wonder he had wished to keep that mad plan of marriage +a secret! He had had excellent reason. It all held +together too plausibly for doubt. No one—no one should +ever know what a fool Ravenel Annesley had been, to +believe in the sweet lies, the passionate promises of a +lover like Adrian Gordon. She was glad she had lost his +ring; she thanked the fate that had made him repent at +the last moment and leave her.</p> + +<p>No one seeing her to-night would have dreamed she +had a care in the world; yet behind her smile her teeth +set suddenly. Two men of Adrian’s regiment, his best +friends, were coming up the stairs. They should not +have to tell him if they wrote that the girl with whom +he had amused himself in the country was either sad +or sorry for his sake.</p> + +<p>She looked about her sharply for a weapon, for some +man whose outspoken devotion should let these men see +how little she cared. And there—at her side—was Levallion.</p> + +<p>He bowed to her with his old half-mocking politeness. +He was very handsome for all his years, and his evening +clothes seemed to take from his age. His keen eyes were +full of admiration. Ravenel held out her hand, nearly +touching those two men, who knew her by sight from +seeing her with Adrian Gordon.</p> + +<p>“You!” she cried. “At last! Do you know you have +never come near me?”</p> + +<p>“I was warned off,” calmly. “I am not supposed to be +a good playmate for little girls.”</p> + +<p>“Now, Levallion, do move on!” cried the duchess over +her shoulder. “You can’t talk here,” for he was calmly +blocking the way.</p> + +<p>“I told you so,” he commented, perfectly unmoved; +he took Ravenel’s program, where it dangled from her +fan, and wrote his name on it four times in succession.</p> + +<p>Two hours later the whole room was agog.</p> + +<p>Levallion, who never spoke to a girl and had not +danced for years, was doing both.</p> + +<p>And he danced admirably. Even the duchess, who +was furious, allowed that. But she was so angry with +him that she even snubbed her dear friend, Mrs. Murray, +who—looking her innocent best in white—was most +uneasy at the sight of Sylvia’s stepdaughter on such excellent +terms with the only man who ought not to hear +of “Mrs. Gordon.”</p> + +<p>“Dear Grace,” she said pathetically, “do tell that poor +child that she will have no reputation left if she makes +herself conspicuous with the most notorious man in London.”</p> + +<p>The duchess gave her a stare.</p> + +<p>“Tom Annesley’s child and my adopted daughter,” +she remarked calmly, if untruthfully, for she had no +idea whatever of adopting Ravenel, “has reputation +enough to do anything she pleases.” And she turned +a stout shoulder on her friend, to the joy of the onlookers.</p> + +<p>But, nevertheless, she went post-haste in search of +Levallion and his partner, who had mysteriously vanished. +And in her own house looked in vain.</p> + +<p>Lord Levallion was no novice. He had found the +only dark place in the conservatory, and there he and his +companion remained long after their four waltzes had +crashed out and died languorously.</p> + +<p>He was wise from experience. He had stayed away +from the house till the girl wondered why he never came. +Even now they had been seated for minutes behind a +flowering orange-tree before he spoke. Then he stopped +fanning her and looked at her.</p> + +<p>“When are you going home?” he said.</p> + +<p>“Home!” Her face was suddenly wild. She had forgotten! +She must face Annesley Chase, her stepmother—perhaps +gossip that had leaked out; for a curate who +is asked to marry a couple who never come might be +excused if he spoke about it.</p> + +<p>“Yes, home! Back to Sylvia?” drawled Levallion.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I can’t! I can’t!” she said in a sick whisper. +“I had forgotten.”</p> + +<p>“But you go in a fortnight,” coolly.</p> + +<p>The girl laid a trembling hand on his coat-sleeve.</p> + +<p>“Lord Levallion, you know the world! You know—Lady +Annesley! Can’t I—isn’t there anything I could do +to earn my living, and Tommy’s?”</p> + +<p>“No!” and for once he spoke bluntly. “There is nothing +you could do. You are too handsome; women would +not have you in their houses!”</p> + +<p>She thought of the long, long summer days at the +Chase, with thoughts of Adrian wherever she turned, and +was frightened—at herself. Here she could live it down, +there—a sob rose in her throat. But she said nothing. +She sat like a stone, her hand lying as it had fallen from +Levallion’s coat-sleeve.</p> + +<p>Somehow, she had thought this man might help her, +friend of Sylvia’s though he was.</p> + +<p>Levallion glanced at her pale face. There was certainly +more than dread of Sylvia there, but it was no concern +of his. And without it the girl would never have +been here.</p> + +<p>“You don’t want to go home, and you can’t work,” he +said brutally. “There is one other thing you can do—marry +me!”</p> + +<p>“Marry you!” she gasped. She sat staring straight in +front of her, her hands clenched in the folds of her satin +skirt. “No, no, no!” she cried fiercely. “I can’t marry +any one. You don’t know me; you can’t want me—you——”</p> + +<p>“Are a friend of Sylvia’s!” he finished for her quietly. +“Listen! I do want to marry you, and I want to know +nothing”—emphatically—“about you that I do not know +already. Do you understand?”</p> + +<p>A terror shook her. Could he know what a fool she +had been, what a laughing-stock she had made of herself +for a married man? She could not speak.</p> + +<p>“As for being a friend of Lady Annesley’s, I may +tell you that the only reason I do not wish to marry +you is that it will please her. But that will not matter. +She will go out of your life as she came into it. You +need never see her when you marry me.”</p> + +<p>“But I don’t love you,” she said, with hard eyes.</p> + +<p>Levallion smiled.</p> + +<p>“I haven’t asked you for love,” he returned indifferently. +“I don’t know that I expect it. I am forty-seven +years old, and I have no home but grand empty houses, +no relations but Adrian Gordon”—if she winced he did +not see—“and I want you—and Tommy!”</p> + +<p>“Tommy says you are an old beast,” said Ravenel, +with despairing frankness.</p> + +<p>“So I am!” watching her. “But even I have my good +points, though I would not reform even if you married +me; it would bore me. I think, though, I might leave +Adrian a decent legacy to make up for my astounding +daring in getting married.”</p> + +<p>He spoke more to himself than to her, but the sense +of his words made her face grow suddenly dangerous. +Adrian—who had said he must go to India because he +was too poor to marry her—was this man’s heir! If +she married him would be so no longer. And every +pulse in her body beat for revenge on Adrian Gordon, +who had deceived her and made her name a laughing-stock +in her old home; for there is never anything that +is not known in a village.</p> + +<p>A curious, slow gleam came into her eyes.</p> + +<p>“If I marry you,” she said dully, “can Tommy go +into the army?”</p> + +<p>“If he can pass his exams. Certainly!”</p> + +<p>For a long moment they looked at each other in the +dim rose light, the man covertly triumphant, the girl +strangely vacant-eyed.</p> + +<p>Levallion was not imaginative, but the curious quietude +of her crouching attitude in her chair made him think +suddenly of a panther he had seen trapped in India. +The beast had been dull-eyed, quiescent, like the girl, till +a man came within her reach. Then—Levallion moved +uneasily—he had never willingly thought of how that man +looked when they got him away. Yet the very wildness +in her face pleased him. Even at forty-seven, Lord Levallion +preferred excitement to calm in his love-affairs.</p> + +<p>“Well,” he said gently, “is it Sylvia, or I?”</p> + +<p>For a moment she did not answer, then her voice +came harsh and changed.</p> + +<p>“I will marry you, if you like,” she said slowly, for, +now that her revenge was in her hand, it sickened her; +“but I’m a bad bargain.”</p> + +<p>“You please me,” calmly. He was too wise to kiss her; +he did not even touch the hands that lay so still on her +lap. He rose silently, and without any will of her own +Ravenel Annesley followed him. She never felt him +take her hand and lay it on his arm; never saw where +he was leading her, till she stood in the door of the ballroom, +the center of all eyes, face to face with the righteously +angry duchess.</p> + +<p>“You had better stay with me, Ravenel,” she said +coldly, without a glance at Levallion. But it was he +who answered her, not the girl who stood at his side +dazed and silent.</p> + +<p>“You are too late, dear lady.” Levallion smiled into +her cross face. “I have stolen her—for good!”</p> + +<p>“What!” The duchess could not get out another word +to save her life. The people about stopped talking and +listened.</p> + +<p>“She has promised to marry me,” said Levallion, +laughing.</p> + +<p>If there had been a convenient chair her grace would +have dropped into it. Levallion! of all men! And yet, +why not? He was richer than any man she knew, he +was probably no worse than a great many of them, and +he had not always shown his evil side to the duchess, who +had a sneaking affection for him under her virtuous disapproval.</p> + +<p>“My dear Levallion,” she cried, “I wish you joy! But—well, +you have surprised me!”</p> + +<p>Levallion smiled. His marriage would surprise a good +many people—disagreeably—but that affected him not +at all.</p> + +<p>“Take me away,” said a husky voice in his ear. “Oh, +take me away!”</p> + +<p>The lights, the staring people, the publicity of it all, +were like separate daggers in the heart of the girl, who +only a month ago had put on her wedding-gown for a +bridegroom who never came.</p> + +<p>The duchess patted her shoulder kindly. No wonder +she looked pale and shy!</p> + +<p>“Give her some champagne, Levallion,” she said. “I +see I am not the only person taken by surprise to-night.”</p> + +<p>Levallion nodded. But even he did not know how +hard it was for his promised wife to lift her head and +walk by his side out of the room. And no one in the +crush of wondering people on the stairs guessed that +the pale girl on Levallion’s arm was taking the first +step on the bitter path that leads to the very gates of a +shameful death.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">A TIRING DAY.</p> + + +<p>A week after every fashionable newspaper had a +flaring announcement of the approaching marriage of +Miss Ravenel Annesley and the Earl of Levallion, which +was to take place at once—that “at once” of upholsterers +and milliners, which means in a month’s time.</p> + +<p>Lady Annesley, with joyful hands, tied up a copy of +<i>The World</i> and forwarded it to Adrian Gordon. But if +she had known it, her pains were wasted. Trouble had +broken out on the Indian northwest frontier and Gordon +had moved heaven and earth to get there. The neatly +tied newspaper never reached him any more than a note +from Levallion himself. Sir Thomas was the other person +who remembered Adrian Gordon, but he said nothing +about him. As for the bride, the only thing she had in +her mind was that the wedding was to be in London, and +she need never go back to Annesley Chase again; also +that she was paying off that debt of treachery with interest.</p> + +<p>“I suppose you know your own mind,” Sir Thomas +remarked to his sister the night before the wedding. “So +I haven’t said anything. It isn’t me that’s going to be +married.”</p> + +<p>“You’re going into the army, and you’re going to have +the Chase redeemed for you,” she returned wistfully.</p> + +<p>“If you’re doing it for that,” he sat up and glared at +her, “you can let it alone! I don’t want that kind of +rot.”</p> + +<p>“I’m doing it because I want to,” her voice sharper +than his. “Lord Levallion’s kind; and I’m sick of Sylvia!”</p> + +<p>“So am I,” returned Sir Thomas dryly. “But I +wouldn’t sell my soul to spite her, all the same.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not selling anything,” wearily, for was she not +putting behind her the burden of her humiliation?</p> + +<p>“Tommy, you’ll stick to me, won’t you? You won’t +speak little like this again?”</p> + +<p>“Of course, I’ll stick to you.” He got up and kissed +her awkwardly. “So will Mr. Jacobs!” and he tried to +laugh, conscious of angry tears in his eyes. For it +seemed to him that this was no way to get married, to an +old man you hardly knew.</p> + +<p>“Good old Tommy!” said Ravenel unsteadily. She +little knew that he and his dog would be her last chance +of salvation in dark days to come; but something in +Tommy’s honest face had gone near to shaking her purpose, +even on the night before her wedding. What she +was doing looked suddenly mean and paltry to her, as +she knew it would to Tommy, if he guessed it. She +looked at the clock, that marked eleven. Twelve hours +more, and not even shame or repentance could undo the +wreck she had made of Adrian Gordon’s fortunes. And +all that night she sat by her bed and deliberately let those +last hours go by, till, at dawn, she said to herself, with +cold lips, that, after all, Adrian Gordon’s future was no +business of hers.</p> + +<p>Lady Annesley—come up to town on Levallion’s +money, and almost off her head with the excellent allowance +that was to be hers for the future, with escape from +Annesley Chase forever—could not believe her eyes when +she actually saw her stepdaughter go up the aisle of St. +George’s on Sir Thomas’ arm. “It was that white +gown!” She bowed her head devoutly as the service began. +“It was an inspiration. And the little fool should +go on her knees to thank me. That Gordon man could +never have given her a wedding like this!”</p> + +<p>He could not, indeed.</p> + +<p>Ravenel had never lifted her eyes as she passed up the +aisle, whiter than death under her lace veil. Adrian +Gordon would have taken her to an empty country +church, where the scent of the May would have swept +through the open windows; where her soul, as she knelt +beside him, would have mounted the very steps of +heaven—and, now——</p> + +<p>For the first time she lifted her head, remembering, +with agony, that day in May when she had seen, as in +a vision, what her wedding would be with any man but +Adrian Gordon.</p> + +<p>It was on her; she was in the very center of it. The +cold air of the church seemed to strike on her face like a +breath from the grave, as in that dreadful prescient moment +when the veil seemed lifted from the future. She +stood, helpless, just as she had known she would, when +Adrian forsook her.</p> + +<p>The crowd of smart people, in gorgeous gowns and +frock coats, whispering indifferently; the bishop, whose +words were chaining her to Levallion forever; the organ +pealing through the church; the bride with a heart of +stone!</p> + +<p>No one ever knew how near that quiet bride came to +screaming aloud in a nightmare of terror; nor how she +had all but turned and run, frantically, from the very +altar.</p> + +<p>But something struck her dumb and powerless where +she stood.</p> + +<p>Only Levallion’s level voice, as he spoke out before all +the world, in words that stopped the very blood in her: +“I, Adrian, take thee, Ravenel——”</p> + +<p>The bride heard no other word of the service. She +clutched Levallion’s hand like a vise that she might not +fall; a gray mist swam before her eyes. She muttered +after the bishop something that meant nothing, but was +all of a piece with this awful travesty of marriage that +was binding her to an Adrian Gordon she had never +loved.</p> + +<p>Saddening, the crash of the wedding-march came on +her dazed ears; the gray mist lifted, cleared. She was +walking by Levallion’s side to the vestry, to sign, for the +last time, the name she had grown to hate.</p> + +<p>Ravenel Annesley was dead now, and decently buried +under a pile of wedding-presents and a bridal wreath. +It was the Countess of Levallion who lifted her veil with +a hand that was perfectly steady, despite the burden of +its new ring; the Countess of Levallion who bent forward +that the duchess might kiss her on both cheeks.</p> + +<p>If she was a little drawn about the mouth, no one saw +it but the bridegroom; and he in a curious, cynical way, +was sorry for her.</p> + +<p>Curiously, too, he had meant every word he had said +at the altar. To his life’s end, Adrian Gordon, Lord +Levallion, means to love and cherish his wife.</p> + +<p>He was proud of her very listlessness as he led her +down the aisle; prouder still of her absolute immobility +when something happened that tried even his nerve.</p> + +<p>In the porch, blocking the very way of the bridal procession—and +to this day Lady Levallion could not tell +you the names of her six bridesmaids!—was a woman.</p> + +<p>Exquisitely slim and small, she stood waiting, a little +boy clinging to her hand. Her dress was black, a lace +veil, with a heavy border, hid her mouth, but not her +eyes. As she moved, silently, gracefully, to give room +to the happy couple, Lord Levallion met those eyes full +on his.</p> + +<p>“Hester!” almost he said it aloud. “And in black. +Can the little fool be going to make a scene?” And for +an infinitesimal moment he held his breath. Ravenel, as +she passed Mrs. Murray, drew away her skirts. She had +obstinately refused to let her be asked to the wedding, +and wondered that she should care to stand on the church +steps with the curious crowd. But that was all. She +never noticed the look the duchess’ friend gave the bridegroom. +For just one instant her eyes had held his; the +next she and her boy had disappeared in the crowd. +Lord Levallion was absolutely sick with relief, as he followed +his wife into the carriage; and yet he was not sure +that it was relief, for it felt uncommonly like apprehension.</p> + +<p>“Hester,” he thought, “to dare to come here with the +boy! It’s enough to make all sorts of scandal.” (That +only a secrecy like the grave had been able to keep +down!) “What can she mean?” He wondered, sharply, +if Ravenel had noticed.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid you’re tired. The crowd at the door was +so thick,” he said, stupidly for Lord Levallion. “I did +not notice,” and, to his huge relief, the words rang true. +She had not taken in what to other women would have +been plain as print. With a curious respect, Levallion +kissed his wife’s hand.</p> + +<p>“It has been a tiring day,” he said, almost absently, +and put Hester Murray’s melodramatic appearance and +her angry eyes determinedly out of his mind. Before +he brought his wife home to Levallion Castle, three +months later, he had absolutely forgotten both.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">NEWS OF ADRIAN.</p> + + +<p>“Talk of monkeys,” Levallion said to himself on the +morning after their return, “they’re not a quarter as +imitative as women!” and he looked at his wife across +the table with a tenderness no other woman could have +got from him. Who would think it had been a raw +schoolgirl he had married three months ago when they +saw his wife.</p> + +<p>For, if she looked very little happier than when he +had carried her off from Sylvia, she had gained a manner, +an assured self-possession that made him proud of +her. And by this time Lord Levallion was used to that +curious, pathetic look she had about the eyes.</p> + +<p>“You are a lazy wretch!” she said, looking up. +“You’ve not opened one letter or one paper out of all +that heap.”</p> + +<p>“You’re very truthful,” he said lazily. “How many +women do you suppose would call me an old wretch to +my face?”</p> + +<p>The greatest charm he had found in her was that, let +him be as cynically outspoken as he liked, she never +cared; so that her answer surprised him.</p> + +<p>“I wasn’t truthful; it was a silly joke. I think, if you +want to know, that you’re a thousand times too good for +me.” Lord Levallion walked around the table, his handsome, +worn face curiously soft.</p> + +<p>“To tell a man he is too good for you is a fatal mistake,” +he remarked gravely. “It makes him presume +on you—like this!” kissing her slim hand: “I shall make +a note that, to keep you contented and superior, I must +beat you once a week. By the way, Ravenel, why do you +never wear any of your rings? If you’re going about +without your wedding-ring, you really ought to paste +your marriage lines on your back.”</p> + +<p>“I haven’t found a certificate of respectability necessary +in your society!” hastily. “And—I hate all rings!” +with a vicious glance at her slim, bare hands. “You’re +changing the subject, Levallion. I was saying I was an +odious wretch to marry you. I had no right to do it, +just to get away from Sylvia!” It was the first time +she had ever uttered the self-reproach that grew on her +each day, with each fresh proof that Levallion’s love +was real. That other thought of revenge on Adrian Gordon +that had been so quick in her once, was dead enough +now, if repentance could kill it. Not for Adrian’s sake, +but for the petty meanness of it. She hated herself for +having made Levallion a tool for her own ends, a convenient +escape from Sylvia and a support for Tommy.</p> + +<p>“You might engage a father confessor, if it would +ease your mind.” His lordship returned to his place and +lowered his eyes to his plate. For it seemed to him +that his indifferent wife was beginning to care, which +meant heaven opening before his incredulous middle-aged +eyes. “I assure you, I’m quite satisfied with the +result of your motives, however low they were, my dear +child. You don’t propose I should read all these, do +you?” with a nod at his pile of letters.</p> + +<p>“Every one. It’s your own fault there are so many. +You should have let your letters be forwarded while you +were away. Now you must turn them over, and begin +at the oldest.”</p> + +<p>For, kind as he was, his very goodness fretted her, just +as Levallion Castle, that she had stolen from Adrian +Gordon, felt like a prison. She could never bear the long +days here unless Levallion interested himself in something +that was not dependent on her. She pushed away +her plate, and was strolling to the open window, as if +she longed for air, when something in his attitude caught +her attention—with an utterly senseless dread.</p> + +<p>He had opened the first letter on the pile, and was +staring at it, his face quite vacant.</p> + +<p>“You haven’t bad news!” she cried involuntarily. She +who never had been known to ask him anything of his +private affairs. She glanced at the blue paper that +crackled in his hand.</p> + +<p>“Yes—poor devil!” he spoke just half his thoughts; +the other half was that, after all, it had done no one any +wrong for him to marry, and might be the saving of the +name. “This is from the War Office—my cousin, Adrian +Gordon—I think you knew him?—is——”</p> + +<p>Lady Levallion stretched out her hand and deliberately +picked a late rose that hung in the window. It pricked +her finger, but not sharply enough to steady her as a hat-pin +once had done. Her voice shook as she answered:</p> + +<p>“Is he dead?” She knew she was muttering, but, for +once, Levallion scarcely heard her.</p> + +<p>That Adrian had been in all the fighting on the northwest +frontier in India idle talk had long ago told her; +and she had said to herself that she did not care; had +never read a newspaper, lest she might find herself hunting +for his name in despatches.</p> + +<p>“Dead? Yes, poor soul, by this time!” said Levallion +absently. “This says he is missing. He went out of the +fort with a small party that was surprised by the Afrides +and nearly destroyed. He carried one man in and went +back for another, and that’s the last they ever saw of +either. It’s the best men who go like that,” grimly. +“They would have given him the Victoria Cross, they say, +but for that trifle of his never coming back.”</p> + +<p>“I”—would she never find her voice? To her horror, +the next instant she knew she was turning on Levallion +furiously, insistently.</p> + +<p>“Why do you say he’s dead?” she cried. “That letter +doesn’t say so.”</p> + +<p>“Because it means it,” gently; “far more! The women +in the hill tribes come out and butcher wounded or +strayed men. Usually there’s not enough left of them +even to prove who they were——”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” said Ravenel; she covered her eyes. “Don’t +tell me,” wildly. “I hate blood. I——” In sheer panic +terror of what mad thing she might cry out, she ran +straight to Levallion. “Never tell me awful things,” +she panted. “I wake up in the night and think about +them. And he—oh, Levallion, he was young! It’s +wicked, wicked, that people should die young!”</p> + +<p>“I forgot you had known him!” said Levallion, reproaching +himself for a fool that must needs draw out +raw head and bloody bones before her. “This letter’s +three months old,” he said. “I will wire to see if they +know nothing more. Or—if you wouldn’t mind, I would +go to town myself this morning and find out about this at +the War Office.”</p> + +<p>She nodded silently, and, to Levallion’s surprise, all +the shocked, strained look was gone from her face.</p> + +<p>“He was your heir,” she said slowly. “Of course, you +had better go and inquire about him.”</p> + +<p>“Yes. Will you come, or stay here?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, stay here!” said Lady Levallion, with a shudder +breaking through that queer calmness born of conviction +that Adrian Gordon was dead. When Levallion was +gone, she noted dully that he had only read that one letter +of all that waited for him, and wondered if he would be +so concerned about Adrian if he knew all about him. +And then, with a curious feeling of returning to consciousness, +she realized with a rush that she was glad—glad!—that +Adrian was dead. She need no longer reproach +herself that she had stolen his inheritance, and +never shrink with shame at the remembrance of how she +had sold herself, body and soul, to be even with him.</p> + +<p>“He’s dead!” she said to herself, with an inexpressible +peace. “Dead and happy, and some day I shall be like +him. Not for a long time, for I’m young and tough, but +every day will bring it a little closer. But if only he and +I were lying in the same grave now, I would not care +how long God put off the Judgment Day.” And there +was no grief in her face as she thought it; only the deadly +longing that saps a woman’s soul more than tears.</p> + +<p>That strange, uncanny peace was still on her as she +sat that afternoon on the lawn under the yellowing trees. +She had forgiven Adrian everything she had against him, +as she had no fear that he would not forgive her sin +when she should stand beside him in her very flesh on +the day of doom; for there would be no space wide +enough to keep her from him when the earth gave up its +motley crowd of men and women, of whom none would +creep more gladly to the side of the love they had forgiven +than she.</p> + +<p>She looked up, clear-eyed, from the book she was not +reading—and saw Adrian Gordon standing in front of +her. Adrian, whose bones were whitening in the Afghan +hills!</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">THE ICY BARRIER.</p> + + +<p>Ravenel Levallion, who had once been Ravenel Annesley, +got up with weak and shaky legs and stared at +the brown shadow of a man who stood between her and +the sun. For man it was, and no spirit. When ghosts +arise from the dead they are not ushered to their dearest +by an obsequious butler, while two footmen with the tea +things bring up the rear. Dreadful, inappropriate laughter +that meant more than any tears shook the Countess +of Levallion as she stood up in her white serge and +Mechlin lace.</p> + +<p>“Captain Gordon!” the butler repeated a little reproachfully, +for this was not the way to receive his lordship’s +cousin.</p> + +<p>“I—I see him!” was all she could find to say; all the +greeting she had for the man to whose side she had +meant to creep on the resurrection day.</p> + +<p>“Ravenel!” he whispered, and if her face were white, +his was gray; all the wild, incredulous joy that had +shone there at the first sight of her dead as ashes. “For +God’s sake, how do you come here?”</p> + +<p>But he knew. With a swift and dreadful certainty he +remembered the butler had said Lady Levallion was at +home—though he had not known there was one before—heard +in the pause that came as she tried to answer him +the smooth voice of a servant saying, “Tea is served, +my lady.” Desperately the girl caught at her breath that +would not come; and her first word was for the footman, +and not for him.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she said, “you can go,” and then, with a coward’s +courage, turned to Adrian Gordon.</p> + +<p>“I live here. I’m his wife.” For her life she could +not look at him with the triumph a woman should have +in her revenge on a man who has deceived her. “But you—you +died! We heard it this morning.”</p> + +<p>We! Captain Gordon—and that man must have been +a fool who first christened the Gordon’s “gay”!—grew as +black and sour and stern as Levallion at his worst.</p> + +<p>“You,” he said, “cannot have read the papers of late, +since you only knew this morning that I was missing. +I never—except to you—was in the very least dead, +though, God knows, I wish I had been!”</p> + +<p>“How did you get here?” She was still standing, +holding herself up with tense hands on her wicker chair.</p> + +<p>“Sit down,” said the man, because she was a woman. +But she never moved.</p> + +<p>“Tell me,” she said thickly.</p> + +<p>“It can’t interest you.” He felt suddenly listless, utterly +indifferent; looked not at her, but the grass. “I +turned up one morning at the fort. They invalided me +home, and I got here yesterday. This morning,” and +he might have been saying a lesson for all the feeling in +his voice, “I reported myself at the War Office and found +Levallion had been there, thinking me dead, so I came +down after him. I would not have come if I had +known——” He did not trouble to finish.</p> + +<p>“He’s not here. You must have caught an earlier +train,” incoherent from anger that he should own he +had been afraid to meet her. “But he’s coming.”</p> + +<p>“Naturally,” with ugly quiet.</p> + +<p>He never looked up, and he could not feel her eyes on +his face, half-wild with the joy of seeing him and the +horror of knowing—face to face with him—what he was. +Oh! if she could have gone back to the May that was +gone forever, how she would have cried out at the dreadful +change in his face. The hollow cheeks, the sunken +eyes, the——</p> + +<p>“Why is your arm in a sling?” she cried, with scorn +of herself that she could not be glad of his pain.</p> + +<p>“Shot,” with an inward curse that might have made +the man who did it turn in his grave, since it was that +shattered arm that had brought him here.</p> + +<p>“Sit down,” said Lady Levallion, and she said it so +tonelessly that in astonishment he obeyed her. “You are +not fit to stand.”</p> + +<p>“Why should you care?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t,” she returned calmly, and for an instant did +not think it was a lie.</p> + +<p>The callousness of his manner had hardened her heart; +her forgiveness that had been so real vanished. She felt +old, old and weary, where she sat in her Worth dress. +If she had dared she would have cried out that to be Nell +Annesley again in her Sunday frock, thinking the man +she loved was true, she would give the soul out of her +body. She gripped herself hard, and spoke to him as to +any one of those friends of Levallion’s who were here +to-day and gone to-morrow——since she could not call +him “contemptible” to his face.</p> + +<p>“May I give you some tea?” Her voice stung like a +whip. Almost he had had it on his tongue to say, “Why +did you do it—who taught you your woman’s game?”</p> + +<p>But as he glanced at her across Levallion’s old silver +and Crown Derby he had his answer. A secret marriage +and a twopenny emerald ring were well changed for all +this.</p> + +<p>“I must be going,” he said. But as he rose a twinge +caught him, and he sat back stiffly.</p> + +<p>“You were foolish to come,” she said, with a coldness +that hid a mad, shameful longing to ease his bodily pain, +for any other he could not have, since he had done everything +by his own free will.</p> + +<p>“You had better have wine than tea,” striking a little +silver gong!</p> + +<p>Her bread and salt were choking; but before the footman +who brought the wine there was nothing to do but +swallow it. Not six months ago she would have looked +at him as he raised the glass to his lips, cried “My love +to you,” as he drank it. To-day—without a glance at +him—she filled her own teacup with a steady hand.</p> + +<p>The silence when the servant was gone was like something +tangible; a barrier that could be felt. Gordon had +absolutely nothing to say, and she was no better. While +he gulped down the unwelcome wine, without which he +must have fainted, she was back again in that country +lane, counting her thousand steps; back in the drawing-room +of Annesley Chase, where “Levallion had been +kind.” Her heart was like a stone in her as she watched +Gordon covertly. How drawn and hard his face was, and +he was only nine and twenty. He did not look so very +far from death even now, and the thought hurt her, for +all her shame that she could care.</p> + +<p>“Did you get the second man?” she blurted out in +the sudden knowledge that she must say something, anything.</p> + +<p>“No!” with a grim surprise that she should ask. “I +may say that he got me. It was he who took me back +to camp.”</p> + +<p>If she could have realized the pitiful return of those +two scarecrow skeletons who had been prisoners with +the Afghans, known how they came home in the darkness, +crawling, worn out, despairing, when the blessed +challenge of their own sentry came on their ears, for +sheer pity she must have broken down; have asked him +without shame, as one asks the dead, why he had left +her to break her heart; have said things that might have +been the beginning of an end bad enough, but better than +the one her girl’s feet must tread. But the scanty sentences +drew no picture for her. Instead she saw only +that there was a line of gold wire round his third finger +that was half the size it had been, and wondered if it +were his wife’s ring.</p> + +<p>“They will give you the V. C. for the first man,” she +said hastily, and wondered how many men would get +the V. C. if it were given for truth and not for valor.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. It was nothing. Every fellow would +have done it. Who told you, about the V. C., I mean?”</p> + +<p>“Levallion” was on her lips, when she saw the gold +wire of his ring catch the sunlight. The shame of a +woman who has loved a man who jilts her caught her +at her heart.</p> + +<p>“My husband,” she said quietly.</p> + +<p>And this time it was Adrian Gordon who quivered +where he sat.</p> + +<p>“I must go!” he said, cursing himself for a fool that +he should be here talking to the girl who had seemed to +him the very flower of the earth, and was only a woman +who loved rank and money. “I must get back to town.”</p> + +<p>Back to his lonely rooms, where the tint of her cheek +and the curve of her eyelash, the bow of her young +mouth, would rise before him line by line and make him +revile the fate that had let him find her out.</p> + +<p>Back to loneliness, to pain that racked him, to the +fever that would make him drain his water-jug before +the morning, but each and all of them better than seeing, +as he did now, how she would not meet his eyes. +But the last person who should know he cared was Levallion’s +wife.</p> + +<p>“You will tell Levallion”—after all, he was not as +callous, or, perhaps, as brave, as she; he could not say +“your husband”—“that I had no idea I should not find +him here. Perhaps he will look me up in town.”</p> + +<p>“Is that all?” she said stupidly, seeing only how very +ill he looked as he stood before her.</p> + +<p>“All!” surprised. “Yes, I wanted to thank him; it +was through him I got to the front.”</p> + +<p>“I thought.” She was faltering, and she hated herself.</p> + +<p>“Do you know,” she said with sudden, vicious cruelty, +“that you have never congratulated me on my marriage?” +and then could have died of shame, for he was +answering her as a man does who is born, not made, a +gentleman.</p> + +<p>“Levallion is one of the best,” quietly. “Certainly I +congratulate you.”</p> + +<p>Yet the words were hardly out of his mouth before she +was angry again that he, who had deceived her, should +say them.</p> + +<p>“Here is Levallion,” she cried. “You had better congratulate +him!”</p> + +<p>He bit his lips that he had not gone before; turned +sharply, and struck his shattered arm against her chair. +The grinding torture turned the daylight black—he was +going—going——</p> + +<p>With a quick cry Lady Levallion leaped forward and +caught him as he fell in a dead faint.</p> + +<p>Long afterward the scene came up before her husband’s +eyes, just as those two had looked against the +sunset. And at the memory of her quick, inarticulate +cry he buried his worn, handsome face in his hands. But +now Lord Levallion only lifted the weight that was too +heavy for his wife’s strong young arms and laid his +cousin on the grass.</p> + +<p>“The returned hero is not out of the graveyard yet!” +he remarked. “Let him lie, Ravenel, and ring for the +servants.”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">IN LEVALLION’S HOUSE.</p> + + +<p>“What shall I do?” said Lady Levallion to herself. +“What shall I do?”</p> + +<p>She stood on the grass and watched them carry Adrian +into her house, making not the slightest attempt to follow. +The sun dropped below the ledge of the rose-garden, +and as its rim disappeared a chill crept to her bones. +In a minute the servants would be back to take in the +tea things, the wicker chair that fate had stuck in Adrian’s +way. They must not find her here standing motionless. +And she had nowhere to go that she might be +alone. There was no room in all Levallion Castle where +she could lock her door without question and fight down +the bewildered pain that was making her sick. Her maid +would be in her bedroom, Levallion would come, as +usual, to her dressing-room when his toilet was finished +and hers all but done. Truly Ravenel Annesley had been +freer than Ravenel Levallion, for she had dared to lock +her door and cry.</p> + +<p>She had not been as brave, though! Lady Levallion +set her teeth and walked slowly into the house and up-stairs +to her goggle-eyed maid. The romantic return +of his lordship’s cousin had set every servant in the house +agog, but her ladyship looked so listless that her maid +dared not speak till she was spoken to, which was some +time, for Lady Levallion went straight to her dressing-table +and stood staring at herself in the glass.</p> + +<p>Her face looked strange, vacant. It was not so she +had dreamed she should look when Adrian rose from +the dead; not so she would dare look when Levallion +came in. She turned with despairing courage to make +a toilet that should cover her changed looks, and saw a +pale-lilac gown laid out on her bed.</p> + +<p>“Oh, not that!” she said—and naturally, to her eternal +credit, for she could have screamed so like was the thing +to that long-gone Sunday frock—“I’m too tired and pale. +Get me something else—pink! There’s a pink thing +somewhere.”</p> + +<p>As she bathed her face in scented water she hid her +drawn mouth in the sponge, for one blessed instant let it +work as it would. Oh, lucky, lucky Nel Annesley, who +had only cold water to wash in, and could let her eyes +swell if she liked! But when Lady Levallion laid down +her damask towel and stood to be dressed in a loose dinner-gown +of pale-rose crêpe de chine she was far more +lowly than even that far-away girl had been. If her eyes +were somber it was only natural when she had seen a +man drop like death at her feet. At Levallion’s knock +her cheeks blazed suddenly.</p> + +<p>“Well?” she said, as he entered and her maid discreetly +vanished. She wondered if Adrian were going to +die, or if—and she almost laughed out hysterically—he +were coming down to dine with her and Levallion. What +a cheerful dinner-party he and she and Levallion!</p> + +<p>“I put him to bed. He’s only just come to.” He +sank down into a chair as if he were tired and lit a +cigarette.</p> + +<p>“Poor devil. I feel sorry for him! He wasn’t fit to +travel in the first place, and it must have been a shock +to him—coming here!”</p> + +<p>“Why?” She was almost inarticulate. Did he know? +Had Adrian told? Oh, of course, not. No man is likely +to tell another that he has behaved like a villain to that +other’s wife. “How do you mean?” and she sat down +opposite Levallion in the full light of a rose-colored +lamp. She was not afraid, no one should ever say she +had been afraid. If it would serve any purpose she +would tell Levallion everything now! And with a sudden +tightening at her heart-strings knew she could not +betray Adrian Gordon in Levallion’s house.</p> + +<p>“Well,” observed his lordship dryly, “it would have +been a shock to most men to come home thinking themselves +sure heir to eighty thousand pounds a year and +find out—it seems he didn’t know I was married!” hastily, +and leaving his sentence unfinished at the scarlet on his +wife’s face.</p> + +<p>“You very absurd person,” he said, with the impassive +manner she knew meant tenderness, “don’t look so +appalled. He may come in for it yet.”</p> + +<p>But it was not a girl’s shyness that had flamed out +in her face, but hot shame for Adrian, who had said he +was too poor to make her an offer openly. She moved +restlessly. How long was he to stay under her roof?—that +should have been his.</p> + +<p>“He looked very ill,” she said.</p> + +<p>“Men do with a splintered bone in their arm, and +fever,” Levallion returned, rather dryly.</p> + +<p>“He can’t be moved for some time, I fancy. You will +have to do the Good Samaritan, Ravenel, and cheer him +back to life.”</p> + +<p>“I hate sick people!” cried Ravenel hastily, and grew +red again at her lie. “Yes I do, Levallion. Don’t ever +dare to get ill.”</p> + +<p>“Well, there’ll be ‘dearth of women’s nursing and lack +of women’s tears’ then!” dryly. “I can’t say I ever saw +any great restorative in the latter, except, perhaps to +the woman,” throwing his cigarette into the grate. He +had always known she was hard. Why did it come +on him now like a dash of cold water?</p> + +<p>“God knows I’m hard enough myself!” he thought, +as he made his way to his own dressing-room. “But she +did not seem to have any pity for the poor devil.”</p> + +<p>It was odd sorrow he felt himself for Adrian, who had +been so incoherently anxious to get back to town and +not be a nuisance. Lord Levallion was rather ashamed +of his own weakness; it would have pleased him to have +had his wife fuss pityingly over his ousted heir and let +him take refuge in cynical comments.</p> + +<p>“Though he mayn’t be so ousted after all.” He did +a little cynical remark on his own account. “I may be +rejoiced with squalling brats.” But something dark +came into his face as if a past folly had suddenly crept +from its grave and faced him.</p> + +<p>“It is better to strike into a new life and go to dinner,” +said Lord Levallion aloud, to the bewilderment of his +servant.</p> + +<p>He made an excellent dinner certainly, for he had +a new French cook, who had disdained to stay with +royalty on account of being limited in butlers. Lord +Levallion was tired, as well as worried about his guest +up-stairs, and the Frenchman’s cooking appealed to him; +which was more than it did to his wife.</p> + +<p>For at the fish the doctor was ushered into the dining-room. +She had not known Levallion thought Adrian +bad enough to need a doctor. She shook hands mechanically +with the good-looking, clear-eyed man whom Levallion +introduced as Doctor Houghton, and mechanically +motioned the butler to set a chair for him.</p> + +<p>“I’m afraid you will have a hospital on your hands, +Lady Levallion.” Doctor Houghton was looking at her +with real pleasure in her wonderful beauty that was anything +but girlish to-night. “There is trouble in that arm.”</p> + +<p>“And likely to be,” interrupted Levallion, “and you +are going to send over a nurse, two nurses if you like, +for he’ll stay here till he is well. Eh, Ravenel?”</p> + +<p>Lady Levallion crushed her hands together under the +table.</p> + +<p>“Oh, of course!” she said. And she felt as if fate +must be standing behind her laughing at Adrian Gordon’s +unavailing efforts to get rid of her.</p> + +<p>“Have some of this, Houghton?” said Levallion, as +she refused a dish. “My wife is delightfully honest—and +hard-hearted. She does not like made dishes, or people +when they’re ill.”</p> + +<p>“One will lead to the other with you,” Ravenel returned +calmly, and laughed, for she had seen Houghton’s +quick glance at her averted face, and she felt as +if he could read there all that Levallion could not of her +horror at this guest, who might be dying under her +roof.</p> + +<p>But Doctor Houghton was looking now at his plate, +just as if he had not seen her dilated pupils, her hard, +set mouth.</p> + +<p>“It’s very good, but it tastes almost too much of almonds!” +he observed frankly. “What is it?”</p> + +<p>“Only chicken, done with almonds and chestnuts. I’ve +a new cook, who can manage almonds. I shall have +something made of them every day.”</p> + +<p>“Which will probably send you to your grave!” laughing. +“But I congratulate you on the artist. By the way, +Lord Levallion, if you could keep me to-night, I should +like to stay with Captain Gordon.”</p> + +<p>“We would be infinitely relieved if you would.” (How +Sylvia would have marveled at the kindly voice, the +glance without mockery!)</p> + +<p>Both made Ravenel feel an unutterable sneak.</p> + +<p>Why had she never told Levallion all about Adrian?</p> + +<p>It would have been better than this. To sleep, to +live, to eat with him in her house, and to be a stranger +to him; hating him in one breath, loving in the next, +false either way to the bread she ate.</p> + +<p>“What was that?” she said feverishly, longing for +the time when she could leave the room. “I heard the +bell ring.”</p> + +<p>The dining-room was close to the hall door, its own +door open; and a dull murmur of voices came from +outside. Levallion half-rose—and sat down again. The +thing in his thoughts was idiotic, impossible.</p> + +<p>“It’s late for a visitor, but you can do anything in the +country!” he remarked cheerfully. “What was that, +Masters?” for the hall door had shut and no one had +come in.</p> + +<p>“A lady, my lord. Come to inquire for Captain Gordon.”</p> + +<p>“A lady!” he looked utterly taken aback—for Lord +Levallion. “Who was it?”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t say, my lord.” (Every servant in the house +but Levallion’s valet was new, perhaps with reason.) +“She was walking.”</p> + +<p>“Well, we live and learn!” said Levallion piously, as +the servants for the moment disappeared. “And I, who +thought my young friend had nearly killed himself to +come and see me!” he had had time to go over the list +of his country neighbors, and knew Adrian had come +to see none of them, even as he spoke. She must have +come down with him.</p> + +<p>Doctor Houghton glanced quite purposely at his hostess +and looked away with haste, for the Lady Levallion sat +white and speechless. It was not enough for Adrian to +come and confront her brazenly, but he must needs bring +a woman down with him—the woman probably of the +gold-wire ring.</p> + +<p>“She knows who it was!” Houghton reflected swiftly, +and then felt sorry for her.</p> + +<p>“Most romantic!” Levallion broke the silence with +a lazy laugh. “They say ‘he travels the fastest who +travels alone,’ but in my experience, company adds to +the pace. I hope the lady’s anxiety will not keep her +awake.”</p> + +<p>And, clever as he undeniably was, it never occurred +to Houghton that where Lady Levallion was angry by +guesswork, Lord Levallion was in a black rage, born of +certain knowledge.</p> + +<p>“Though I can’t understand what she has to do with +that young fool upstairs!” he reflected grimly, as Houghton +returned to the invalid. “Nor why she came. But +I may find out!”</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">A DOVE-COLORED GOWN.</p> + + +<p>But if he had any idea of finding out from Adrian, +the morning effectually banished it. The splinters of +bone in his arm had put him in agony, and he lay as +he would lie for days, stupid with morphia.</p> + +<p>Lord Levallion looked with a queer pity on the haggard, +pain-drawn face, and went softly away. He must +find out for himself why that woman had come down in +his cousin’s company.</p> + +<p>“For, of course, she did!” he mused. “The only +thing that brought her to ask after him was that she got +tired of waiting in the village, dear creature! Adrian +was always a quixotic ass about a woman.” And he +set forth on an apparently aimless ride through the village, +which for once he did not ask his wife to share.</p> + +<p>But his idle and cheerful conversation, by the way, +were curiously astounding. His lordship whistled as he +turned his horse’s head down an unfrequented lane, +where he might collect his thoughts.</p> + +<p>No one had come down with Captain Gordon, whose +arm, in its black sling, had excited the pity of the whole +village; there was not a woman staying at the inn or +at any of the lodging-houses. Lord Levallion was annoyed +that he could not put two and two together and +fit the coming of Adrian Gordon with that woman’s +voice in his own hall.</p> + +<p>“If she’s living in this neighborhood, she’ll not do it +long!” he reflected angrily. “But, as far as I know, +there’s nowhere for her to live. Unless”—he stopped his +horse, gave a stifled exclamation, as the lane rounded a +sharp turn.</p> + +<p>On his left hand, where a vacant field had run up to +the outlying edge of his own woods, stood a brand-new, +gim-crack bungalow in a new garden; and strolling about +it leisurely was a woman in a dove-colored gown.</p> + +<p>Levallion’s worn, handsome face turned absolutely +bloodless, but his insolent stare never turned from that +small, dainty figure in the garish garden.</p> + +<p>“Gad! This is a charming surprise,” he said softly. +“Charming. And if Adrian had nothing to do with it, +how the devil did she know he was here, when I +thought he was dead? Ah!” he smiled—a smile Sylvia +would have known, but not Ravenel.</p> + +<p>For the woman in the garden had turned, had pretended +not to see him, and incontinently vanished into +the house. Lord Levallion got on his horse, and cantered +through the gate.</p> + +<p>“I think not,” he observed to himself acidly. And if +he were middle-aged and worn, he was yet a sufficiently +terrifying figure to the eyes that surveyed him through +the lower blind of the drawing-room window as he sauntered +up to the house. Without the slight formality of +knocking, he opened the door the dove-colored fugitive +had not thought of locking, and walked in.</p> + +<p>“I am here,” he observed politely. “There is no occasion +to stare out of the window for me.”</p> + +<p>Hester Murray gave a frightened start in spite of herself. +She turned with two bright, pink patches on her +thin cheeks, and tried—unsuccessfully—after his pretty +manners.</p> + +<p>“Oh! How do you do? I was not sure it was you.” +Her outstretched hand was not steady.</p> + +<p>“You may reassure yourself as to that. It is I—and +I am quite as usual, thank you.” He put down his +riding-crop and his hat with neatness, and, very quietly, +closed the door.</p> + +<p>“Now,” he said—and if ever a devil looked from a +man’s eyes it was from Levallion’s—“may I ask what +you are doing here?”</p> + +<p>“Living here.” Levallion could have laughed aloud +as he remembered how many times she had assured him +she was never afraid of any one. “But you knew that +or you would not have come to see me.” She sat down, +her one ring—that was a wedding-ring—shining oddly +conspicuous on her nervous hand.</p> + +<p>“How long have you been here?” he leaned against +the window with his back to the apricot-colored blind.</p> + +<p>“Two months,” unwillingly. “But I’m really hardly +settled. I did not want you and Lady Levallion to know +of me till I was all arranged. But, of course, now I +shall be delighted to call on her.” She was not sure +whether she was taking the right way or not, but surely +Levallion would prefer this one.</p> + +<p>But he did not answer for a moment.</p> + +<p>“I dare say you would,” to her surprise he broke out +into a sarcastic chuckle. “But you are not at all likely to. +Now tell me what you meant by coming to my house +last night and raising the devil about Adrian?” The +sudden change of voice turned her cold.</p> + +<p>“I—I heard in the village,” she stammered. “I was +anxious.”</p> + +<p>Anxious indeed! Even Lord Levallion had no notion +how she had run breathless through the fields, hoping the +rumor her servant had brought from the village was +true that Adrian Gordon had fallen down dead at Lady +Levallion’s feet.</p> + +<p>“Why were you anxious?” with a slanting lift of his +eyebrow. “And how did you know he had come home?”</p> + +<p>“I always told you it was foolish not to read newspapers,” +she retorted, “even if you are in love!”</p> + +<p>Levallion shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“For a man who concerned you not at all, I think +you wasted shoe-leather,” he said, and in his eyes was a +kind of amusement that confused her.</p> + +<p>“I—he was good to me once!” with a momentary +flash of inspiration. “Is he—is he dying?” for she must +know, since if he were not particularly ill, she would +have her work cut out to hide how she had paid him +for that honest kindness by doing Sylvia Annesley’s +dirty work. For, of course, that girl would tell him. +And—there were other things. Oh! why couldn’t the +man die?</p> + +<p>“It would do you no good if he did die, which is not +in the least likely,” remarked Levallion blandly, having +seen her last thought on her face. “It would not soften +my heart toward you; though I grant you it might have, +once.”</p> + +<p>The woman sprang up as if he had struck her.</p> + +<p>“You are a devil, a cruel, cold devil!” she said between +her small teeth—and he had never noticed before how +sharp and feline they were. “You’ve no heart, no +pity——”</p> + +<p>“Neither had you,” interrupting her with so much +more truth than he knew that she was frightened and +sobered. “But I have not come to discuss either of our +personal attributes, but to tell you,” slowly, “that there +are six trains a day by which you may leave this neighborhood—and +stay away;” his voice was perfectly level, +but yet Mrs. Murray drew away from him before she +answered.</p> + +<p>“I’ve nowhere to go,” she said sullenly. “I came here +because it was cheap.”</p> + +<p>“I can assure you that you’ll find it remarkably dear,” +dryly, “and where’s the London house?”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t afford the rent any longer.”</p> + +<p>“I consider you’ve plenty of money,” shortly.</p> + +<p>“It costs more every day.” She did not say what, nor +did he ask her.</p> + +<p>“Where’s Murray?” Levallion, he best knew why, +was holding himself hard.</p> + +<p>For the first time she looked him in the face and told +the truth.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know and I don’t care!” she said viciously. +“He said he was sick of the business—and me—and he +never meant to set eyes on me again.”</p> + +<p>“Poor devil,” said Lord Levallion slowly.</p> + +<p>It was the last straw. Hester Murray quivered from +head to foot with ungovernable rage.</p> + +<p>“You can’t send me away from here!” she cried. “You +daren’t make a scandal now—at this date. There’s no +reason why I should not live here. You can let me call +on your wife—and—I’ll go on holding my tongue.”</p> + +<p>Levallion leaned forward and spoke almost in her +ear.</p> + +<p>“I dare do anything,” he said evenly. “Kindly remember +that. And also that my wife,” emphatically, “shall +never know Mrs. Murray or call on her if she lives here +forever.”</p> + +<p>“People will talk!” she gasped.</p> + +<p>“If they do,” coolly, “I sha’n’t hear it; but you’ll feel +it. I think you had better go, if you’re wise.”</p> + +<p>“Suppose I tell your wife—what will you do then?” +it was her last shot, and it had a curious effect.</p> + +<p>Levallion laughed.</p> + +<p>“Please yourself; stay here, tell anything!” he returned, +still laughing. “And I’ll tell, too. It would +make an amusing story—in your favorite newspaper.”</p> + +<p>“Levallion!” it was all but a scream; she clutched him +as he turned away. “You can’t, you won’t, you’ve—oh, +God! haven’t you any honor?” for to ruin one’s own +reputation is a very different thing to having it done +for you.</p> + +<p>“I have exactly as much as you have,” he answered, +moving quietly from her appealing hand. “You can remember +that. And if you like,” carelessly, “you can +stay here. Only be good enough not to come to my +house on any pretext whatever. I won’t have a woman +like you under my wife’s roof. You understand?” +sharply.</p> + +<p>She could only nod. His sudden acquiescence in her +living so near him had somewhat dumfounded her, together +with his refusal to recognize her in any way. Levallion, +who had always wanted to keep things quiet! +Yet it was simple enough.</p> + +<p>“After all,” he had thought swiftly, “she’s as well +under my eye as anywhere, while we rejoice in a penny-post!” +Yet if he had seen the face of the woman he +left in that dim drawing-room, it is to be doubted if +Lord Levallion would not have preferred himself removing +her and her belongings on a barrow, rather than +have had her within a hundred miles. And yet she was +only crying to herself pitifully, that she loved him still.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">A WOMAN’S RING.</p> + + +<p>It was a wet day. A cold, steady autumn rain that +made Levallion Castle chilly and shivery, and so lonely +that its mistress had no desire to look at the dark corners +of the room where she sat at tea-time. Levallion was +out. She had hardly let him from her sight for three +days; she scarcely knew why, except that he was all she +had in the world to cling to. Lady Levallion pushed +away her untasted tea and went out of the big, lonely +drawing-room up-stairs. Rain or no rain, she would get +her hat and go out. She could not sit alone for another +minute.</p> + +<p>She was hurrying down-stairs as she had hurried up, +passing a closed door without so much as a glance, when +something stopped her as short as a hand on her +shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Oh!” she said aloud. “What was that?” She +wheeled in the dim passage and stared in sick horror at +the door which must shut in something more dreadful +than she knew, for never in her life had she heard a +cry like that.</p> + +<p>As she stared, the door opened. A nurse in a white +uniform came out.</p> + +<p>“Did you——” she began. “Oh, my lady, I beg your +pardon! I thought it was the doctor.”</p> + +<p>The passage was nearly dark; she could not see how +white her ladyship’s face was, nor how startled her +eyes.</p> + +<p>“The doctor!” Ravenel said sharply. “Do you mean +you sent for him? Is Captain Gordon worse?”</p> + +<p>“No, not exactly. But he’s very restless and delirious. +I’m afraid he may injure his arm.” She looked curiously +at the slight girl in rough tweed, who was so young to +be mistress of Levallion Castle.</p> + +<p>It was odd that in all these days the countess had +never sent to ask after the invalid. But fine ladies had +very little heart, as a rule.</p> + +<p>“There, do you hear that?” she said, rather desirous +of harrowing the feelings of this one. “I must go back. +He’s getting another bad turn.”</p> + +<p>Hear that! Every drop of Lady Levallion’s blood +stood still. For in that dreadful voice she did not know +Adrian Gordon was calling on a woman’s name.</p> + +<p>“Nel, Nel!” he cried. “I want my Nel.”</p> + +<p>Fascinated, drawn as if by ropes, Lady Levallion followed +the nurse through the half-closed door she had +sworn to herself never to enter; stood in the middle of +the room, wide-eyed, dry-lipped.</p> + +<p>Unshaven, grim, haggard, Adrian was tossing from +side to side in his bed. He turned his eyes to her unseeingly, +and said again, in the very face of the very +woman he called on:</p> + +<p>“Nel, I want my Nel. Can’t you stop this pain? I’m +making a fool of myself. For God’s sake, bring Nel!”</p> + +<p>And then he cried out in the screaming groan that +turns every woman, but a nurse, sick with horror.</p> + +<p>Ravenel made a wild step toward him, in another +minute would have flung away all she had by drawing +the tossing, restless head to her breast, by crying that +she was here—his Nel, who loved him still. But between +her and him the nurse had slipped quietly, and +was touching his burning forehead with a professional +hand.</p> + +<p>“The poor soul wouldn’t know her if she were here!” +she muttered. “Yes, yes; she’s coming.” But if she +had glanced over her shoulder she would not have +known Lady Levallion’s face.</p> + +<p>“Can’t you get him some morphine?” Ravenel cried.</p> + +<p>“I only had a certain amount. The doctor ought to +be here soon. I sent for him an hour ago.”</p> + +<p>An hour ago! Lady Levallion clenched her teeth.</p> + +<p>While she had been sitting in comfort, he had been in +this pain. It was true he had behaved vilely to her, but +she could not bear any living thing to suffer like this.</p> + +<p>“Let me try!” she said, and the nurse looked up with +surprise at the pity in her voice. She could feel, then, +little interest as she had seemed to take in the patient.</p> + +<p>At the touch of the shaky hand she laid on his forehead +Adrian lay quiet; but only for an instant.</p> + +<p>“Where is she?” said that dreadful voice. “Nel!”</p> + +<p>She dared not trust herself to speak. If only the nurse +would go!</p> + +<p>“I hear some one.” She got the lie out somehow. +“Go and see if it’s the doctor,” and as the woman hurried +to the door, she stooped and whispered in Gordon’s +ear:</p> + +<p>“I’m here. It’s Nel. Do you want me?”</p> + +<p>“Nel,” he said, so naturally that she thought he answered +her, and was terrified of what he might say before +the white-dressed woman, who was all eyes and +ears. But the next minute she saw it was accident. He +did not know her.</p> + +<p>And yet something had quieted him; whether it was +her voice, her touch, she could not say. He lay still, +only wincing now and then. The nurse came to the +bedside.</p> + +<p>“You really seem to have soothed him,” she said incredulously. +“Perhaps you would stay a little.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t—not long!” stammering. For, suppose Levallion +came and found her here, she who had vowed she +hated illness. She put the cowardly thought from her.</p> + +<p>“He wouldn’t think anything,” she said to herself, +“for he’s a thousand times too good and too proud to +imagine what a beast I am. For I am a beast! If +Adrian were well I should hate him. Oh, why does he +call me! Me, that he threw away like a squeezed orange.” +But even as she thought it she never stopped +her involuntary mechanical smoothing of the short-cropped +hair she had never thought to touch again in +life. And the feel of it sent a thrill through her that +made her start back. What was she doing? Levallion’s +wife had no right there. Any other woman on earth +might soothe Adrian’s pain, but not she!</p> + +<p>“Please don’t stop, your ladyship,” said the nurse +quickly. “I must keep him still on account of his arm. +There are some splinters of bone in it that don’t come +away as they should. When the doctor comes we must +get that ring cut off—it’s cutting into his swollen hand.” +She pointed to where a tiny bit of gold gleamed at the +edge of the bandages, and Lady Levallion started.</p> + +<p>The other woman’s ring! That mysterious woman +who had come to ask after him. She had forgotten them +both! She moved slowly away from the bed, her face +once more as hard as the nurse thought a great lady’s +should be. Let him suffer as he might, die if he liked; +it was no business of hers any more!</p> + +<p>“I don’t think I had anything to do with quieting +him,” she said shortly. “I fancy the pain just happened +to grow less.”</p> + +<p>“Very likely,” said Sister Elizabeth dryly. “Delirious +patients are peculiar; probably that girl he seems to want +so much is some one he really hates the thought of.”</p> + +<p>“Really!” said Lady Levallion uninterestedly. But +there was fright in her face as she stared at the nurse’s +broad back. Had she spoken by accident, or had Adrian +let out more of a name than that one syllable? A queer +terror ran through her, though there was little enough +the man could tell. Sister Elizabeth could not have dared +to refer to it if he had; and yet Ravenel doubted. The +nurse did not look like a stupid woman.</p> + +<p>“I will go out and send some one to hurry Doctor +Houghton,” she said coldly, moving toward the door.</p> + +<p>“Nel!” the sudden cry made her stop short, for it +seemed so certain that he must know she was here and +was leaving him. “Don’t let the band play any more +waltzes. I never danced with you, only with fools—hair +full of scent—you know the kind. Nel, Nel, +Nel!”</p> + +<p>Lady Levallion stopped her ears and ran.</p> + +<p>White and shaking, she leaned against the wall of +the passage, that was light enough now, for the servants +had lit the lamps. Her hands still at her ears, her +eyes shut, her mouth drawn into that awful bow that +means helpless pity, she stood, her face an open book +that any passer-by might read.</p> + +<p>“Talk of the pains of hell!” she thought. “They +don’t wait till you’re dead. They say every one builds +their own fire there, and Adrian’s seems to be a pretty +good blaze. Only why should I burn in it? I never +put one stick to it,” without knowing it, she was muttering, +but unintelligibly enough.</p> + +<p>“Ravenel,” said a quiet voice in her ear, as some one +took her hands away, “my dear child, what is the matter?”</p> + +<p>It was Levallion, in a streaming mackintosh, his handsome +face really old in his surprised concern. She would +sooner it had been a mad dog.</p> + +<p>“It’s him, it’s——” she caught her breath, steadied +herself, “Captain Gordon! I’ve been in there, the nurse +called me. Oh, I never saw any one in pain like that, +or delirious! I couldn’t stay.”</p> + +<p>Levallion stripped off his wet coat and dropped it. +How could any nurse be such a fool? He would settle +with her presently. There were sights no girl like +Ravenel should see.</p> + +<p>“You poor child!” he said softly. “No wonder you +look queer. I’ll go in and see him.”</p> + +<p>She caught his arm.</p> + +<p>“No, no!” she cried frantically. “Don’t go. He’s +off his head. He keeps calling for some woman, and +it doesn’t seem fair—oh, don’t listen, Levallion! Take +me away.”</p> + +<p>“Darling,” Levallion was not given to endearments, +but the word fell on deaf ears. He slipped his arm +round her, furious that she should have been made so +unhappy. His eyes, that were always bad to meet, blazed +as he thought of that senseless fool of a nurse.</p> + +<p>“Come away and rest. Here’s Doctor Houghton; it +will be all right now. And there’s some one else come +I’ve been to meet at the station.”</p> + +<p>Some one else! And Houghton’s step in the passage. +Lady Levallion steadied herself with the courage that +had never failed her. She even met Levallion’s eyes.</p> + +<p>“I’m silly, but it upset me,” she said quite naturally. +And above her voice came Adrian’s loud one through +the closed door, as he called her name. “Who else has +come?”</p> + +<p>“Me,” said a voice, suspiciously and determinedly troubled. +“Didn’t you know?”</p> + +<p>“Tommy!” she said stupidly, as the boy kissed her. A +week ago she would have been wild with joy, to-day—Tommy +knew! It would be awful to have any one who +knew in the house.</p> + +<p>“Exactly. And I want my tea. Do you habitually,” he +made the slightest possible pause, and went on, cheerfully, +“reside in this passage?”</p> + +<p>Ravenel shivered, for Tommy’s eyes were hard and +stern on hers for all his careless voice. He had made +sense enough of that reiterated cry that was Greek to +Levallion.</p> + +<p>“No, come on!” she answered hastily. “I was just +speaking to the nurse. You come, too, Levallion. Doctor +Houghton doesn’t want you.” And she held his hand +tight behind the shelter of Tommy’s back as she smiled +at the doctor.</p> + +<p>“Want him? No,” Houghton returned hurriedly. +“I’ll see him by and by.”</p> + +<p>But before his quick hand was on Adrian’s door +Ravenel had dragged Levallion away.</p> + +<p>“I don’t want you to feel—left out—with me and +Tommy!” she whispered, and loathed herself. “It was +so good of you to bring him.”</p> + +<p>The man’s hard eyes grew kind. Tommy whistled +as he followed them to the drawing-room and fresh tea; +but Levallion did not know Tommy well. He never +whistled unless he was angry. All through her tea-making +Ravenel knew that Tommy was storing up wrath +against her that would break out the second Levallion +left them, which he did on a summons from Doctor +Houghton.</p> + +<p>Ravenel prepared for battle, and then felt wretched. +Never in all her life had she really fought with Tommy.</p> + +<p>“Look here,” said he, and, to her surprise, quite +coolly; “I suppose you can’t help having Gordon in the +house, but if I were you I wouldn’t be found outside his +own door looking like a sick cat.”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t help it,” angrily. “I was passing and the +nurse came out. You needn’t put on silly airs about it; +nobody hates him worse than I do. And he hates me. +He wasn’t even civil that day he came.”</p> + +<p>“If I hated him, or anything else,” dryly, “I’d keep +my face straighter—before Levallion!”</p> + +<p>“If you think of me like that you can hold your tongue +over it,” her voice very low and furious.</p> + +<p>“I don’t pine to talk about it,” unpleasantly. “But +other people than me have ears, and I heard fully well +what Gordon was calling out,” with ungrammatical force.</p> + +<p>“Don’t you ever dare to call me that!” she sprang up +and caught his arm. “Listen to me. I tell you the girl +Adrian called is dead—dead! Do you hear me?”</p> + +<p>“‘R. I. P.,’ then!” said Tommy, with a curious catch +in his voice. “Mind you, Ravenel, I’d sooner that was +true than that you——”</p> + +<p>Lady Levallion forgot she was a countess.</p> + +<p>“Shut up!” she said. “There’s somebody coming, and +you’re making a fuss about nothing. I haven’t any dark +secrets, except that I was engaged to a man who—threw +me over,” quickly. “If you want to know, I hate him. +There!”</p> + +<p>“Then you’d better do it with less fuss,” returned Sir +Thomas in a casual tone of brotherly conversation, as +the door opened on Levallion and Houghton.</p> + +<p>“Do what?” the former asked idly, looking with a curious +pride at the two handsome, flushed young faces.</p> + +<p>“Argue,” coolly. “Ravenel never will own she’s +wrong.”</p> + +<p>“A woman is never wrong, my good sir!” said Levallion +piously. “Ravenel, you’ll be glad to hear Gordon’s +asleep.”</p> + +<p>“Oh,” said Houghton, “that reminds me! I forgot to +give you this, Lord Levallion. I fancy it is valuable, +and it might be lost. I had to cut it off Captain Gordon’s +hand. I beg your pardon, Lady Levallion; I interrupted +you!”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t speak,” she said quietly, and she best knew +where she got her composure. For Houghton was holding +out to Levallion her own emerald-and-opal ring.</p> + +<p>Bent, filed through, dulled by a fevered hand, she still +could not mistake it. It was her very ring and no other, +but how—a voice that sounded like a real voice was sudden, +insistent, in her ears.</p> + +<p>“You mustn’t, you daren’t think, here.”</p> + +<p>Dazed, she looked to see if Tommy had spoken; but +Tommy was gaping silently at that long-lost ring. No +one had opened their mouths. It was her own mind that +had warned her.</p> + +<p>In the sudden, causeless silence that had fallen on the +room Levallion slipped the broken ring into his pocket.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">THE SIN OF SYLVIA ANNESLEY.</p> + + +<p>“My ring—it was my ring he wore all the time, with +the stone turned inside his hand!”</p> + +<p>Alone in her dressing-room, Ravenel’s head whirled.</p> + +<p>“But how did he get it, and why did he wear it after +the way he treated me? I can’t make the two things +match.”</p> + +<p>All dressed for dinner, she stood looking at herself in +the glass as being a ladylike and thoughtful occupation +to be discovered in by Tommy or Levallion; and the +silver-strewn luxury of her toilet-table suddenly reminded +her of another table, in the one sumptuous room +of a poverty-stricken house.</p> + +<p>“Sylvia!” she gasped. “It must have been Sylvia.”</p> + +<p>A light flashed into her eyes that had not been there +for many a day. Adrian was in the house, must get better, +and the very first day he was fit she would have +the whole story—his story—out of him. And then——</p> + +<p>Lady Levallion, with a sudden numbness, a curdling +of her young blood, dropped heavily into a chair. Not +even God’s own truth could matter to her now. The +work, whether her ladyship’s or Adrian’s, was done—and +done thoroughly. And Levallion—she straightened +herself as at a sudden wound—Levallion had been a +friend of Sylvia’s! But the thought passed as it had +come, and left her ashamed. Levallion could have had +nothing to do with Adrian’s passing himself off for an +unmarried man.</p> + +<p>“Adrian lied to me and threw me overboard,” she said +to herself, “and Levallion picked me up out of the sea. +That’s all I dare remember now out of the whole jumble. +But I’ll find out about the ring, anyhow. Even +Levallion,” clinging obstinately to that senseless trust +in him that had grown up in her, “would not mind my +knowing the truth—if Adrian can tell it.” And, with +that queer numbness in her that she did not know was +despair, she went down-stairs to face the new world she +had made for herself, which the sight of a battered ring +had shattered in her very hands.</p> + +<p>But to get at the root of the matter was not so easy. +There was Levallion, who had nearly annihilated Sister +Elizabeth and forbidden her on pain of instant dismissal +ever to allow Lady Levallion to behold horrors. And +there was Tommy. Tommy, dogged, cheerful, and ubiquitous; +his sister’s aching impatience almost turned to +hatred of Tommy, who drove and rode and talked with +her—on indifferent subjects—till he nearly sent her frantic. +And Adrian was mending every hour; any day +might take it into his head to get up and go away with +a bare good-by.</p> + +<p>Pale and big-eyed, Ravenel stood by the library window +and stared out, so that her back was turned to the +policing gaze of Sir Thomas. It was a fine day, but +she never noticed. She twisted her ringless hands hard +together that she might not turn round on Tommy and +tell him, for Heaven’s sake, to let her be for one-half +hour.</p> + +<p>Levallion, coming in, spoke to her twice before she +heard him.</p> + +<p>“Yes!” she turned guiltily, for of all the things that +hurt her the most was the look on Levallion’s face, +where happiness and content seemed to have ironed out +the sardonic lines. There was no guilty conscience at +work in Levallion—and once she had thought Gordon a +better man than he!</p> + +<p>“Yes! I was looking at some one. Who’s that?” +She had that very minute caught sight of a figure in +the garden.</p> + +<p>“Gad!” Levallion’s hawk eyes looked over her shoulders. +“The fellow’s cool. That, madam, is your cook, +and, if I am not mistaken, he is picking your flowers +and smoking a cigarette on your lawn. Delightfully at +home is Carrousel! But,” his quizzical gaze darkened +suddenly. The chef, arrayed in tweeds remarkably like +Levallion’s own, and bearing a large bunch of the best +of the late autumn flowers, had let himself out of the +garden by a gate sacred to the use of master and mistress +and departed, leaving behind him, under their very +noses, a half-smoked cigarette and a copy of an old, +pink newspaper.</p> + +<p>The window was open, and to his lordship’s nostrils +came the dying aroma of his own tobacco, the while the +pink and atrocious newspaper fluttered softly in the +breeze.</p> + +<p>“That gentleman requires occupation.” In withdrawing +his head Levallion bumped it, which did not allay his +irritation. “I don’t require my cook as an ornament in +my private garden, nor his garbage papers on my lawn, +and so I shall inform him. I wonder where the devil +he’s going! I’m certain he’s got on my clothes.”</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas forgot he was Sherlock Holmes.</p> + +<p>“Gorgeous, ain’t he?” he observed rapturously.</p> + +<p>“He can be as gorgeous as he likes—in the kitchen,” +Levallion drawled acidly. “Which reminds me, Ravenel; +Houghton says there is no need to put off having people +here any longer; Adrian won’t mind a noisy house; +he’ll be quite recovered in a day or two. So I suppose +we’d better ask some people for the pheasants—a house-party +will be an excellent tonic for Monsieur Carrousel, +and cheer up Adrian.”</p> + +<p>A house full of people! Ravenel’s heart contracted. +Farewell to all chance of speaking to Adrian then!</p> + +<p>“Cowardy, cowardy custard!” remarked Sir Thomas, +with more tact than elegance. “Ravenel is afraid of being +a hostess, ain’t you, my dear?”</p> + +<p>“I am. I’m terrified,” snatching at anything that was +true. “I don’t want them much, Levallion!”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want ’em at all,” returned his lordship dryly. +“But, being over head and ears in debt for invitations to +every soul I know, I don’t see how we can avoid asking +them. And Tommy and I can shoot all the pheasants +ourselves.”</p> + +<p>“Tommy has to go back to his crammer’s!” ungratefully.</p> + +<p>“Fortunately, he hasn’t,” with a glance of real liking, +which the boy returned. “I forgot to tell you. Two of +the men there have scarlet fever; and the house is quarantined. +Therefore, Sir Thomas and the inestimable +Mr. Jacobs—who had killed two rats and broken three +priceless vases in the business!—will have to stay with +us. Sad, isn’t it?”</p> + +<p>“You bet!” said Tommy cheerfully. “I’ll help you +through, Ravenel. I like women; it’s funny most women +don’t!” thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“Have I got to write the invitations?” her voice was +curiously sullen, unguarded; for surely it was the very +irony of fate that should make her summon a lot of people, +under whose eyes she and Adrian would have to +meet day in and day out, with everything unexplained +between them.</p> + +<p>Levallion chuckled, but his eyes were very sweet.</p> + +<p>“You are not a beast of burden,” he observed, in +that slow, soft way of his. “I’ll summon the heathen for +next week, in your name. And I trust their requirements +will occupy our cook—at least, what’s left of him +after I see him,” looking with unabated annoyance at the +scurrilous sheet the breeze had fluttered to the very +window.</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas, seeing Levallion in possession, had retired +on business of his own; and Levallion laid his fine hand, +that, if it were not young, was still beautiful, on his +wife’s bronze head.</p> + +<p>“You’re not really afraid of your party, are you?” +he said with a tenderness that sat oddly on him. “For +you know it is I who should be that! If I were wise +I’d shut you up alone with me, and save trouble. You’re +too good-looking, little mouse, for women not to hate +you, and men”—he shrugged his shoulders—“and you’ve +only my battered old bones between you and a somewhat +overrated civilization.” There was something wistful +in his voice, despite its cynicism, and it hurt her.</p> + +<p>“Don’t speak like that!” she cried sharply, passionately. +“It wasn’t that I meant. Only that I’m eighteen +and an ignorant fool. How do I know how to entertain +people? Suppose I disgrace you!”</p> + +<p>He laughed, still stroking her hair; and the laugh +had the ring of Adrian’s, and hurt her.</p> + +<p>“I will frown at you when I see you eating with your +knife. Dearest, I wish you would do a little now in the +hostessing way, if you don’t mind! Go and see Adrian; +he’s up, and it doesn’t seem kind not to take any notice of +him. Would you go? I know you hate illness, but he +really does not look very dreadful. And would you give +him this?” drawing something from his pocket. “I dare +say he would rather you knew of his love-tokens than +I,” smiling.</p> + +<p>Ravenel’s heart banged against her ribs. He was holding +out to her that ring that was her own.</p> + +<p>“If—if you want me to,” she said. Almost she could +have let Adrian go with that ring unexplained rather +than have had Levallion—Levallion!—put her opportunity +in her hand.</p> + +<p>“He will think it odd if you never go near him, I +fancy. But just as you like!” and his hand with the +ring in it moved toward his pocket.</p> + +<p>“I’ll go,” she said quickly, involuntarily; for after all +she was not brave enough to let the knowledge she longed +for go by forever. She dared not look at Levallion’s +face, lest she should forget herself and pour out the +whole reason of her reluctance to be sent—by him—to +Adrian. An appropriate and delightful confidence it +would be, too, for her husband’s ears. But if she did tell +he would not hear her; he had no opinion of confessions. +Had he not said once that “he wanted to know nothing +about her that he did not know already—nothing!”</p> + +<p>She held out her hand for the emerald ring.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>At the quick faint knock on the door a man looked +up from a paper he was pretending to read.</p> + +<p>“Come in,” he said impatiently, wishing Sister Elizabeth +and her messes elsewhere.</p> + +<p>But it was not Sister Elizabeth.</p> + +<p>Gordon jumped up and sat down again, furious at +finding how weak he was, and how his heart jumped at +the sight of her face.</p> + +<p>For Ravenel stood in the doorway; and yet not Ravenel, +but Lady Levallion. His eyes went over her, losing +not a point of the dainty, artificial look she had in her +fine clothes.</p> + +<p>Her bronze hair she had been used to twist carelessly +was dressed exquisitely, in the rippling smooth yet fluffed +outlines that were the fashion; her gown, that had been +cotton, was finest white serge now, and the frou-frou +of its silk lining reached him as she closed the door +behind her; her little feet—but he could not look at those +little feet. Truly, she had done well to leave him for +Levallion; he could never have given her shoes with +silver buckles like those!</p> + +<p>“This is extremely kind of you,” he said awkwardly. +“Will you excuse my not getting up?” and even as he +forced out the words he was thankful he had let Levallion’s +man shave him clean of his scrubby, week-old +beard, and bring him decent clothes instead of a dressing-gown. +But Lady Levallion’s eyes were on his haggard, +weary face and not on his toilet.</p> + +<p>“Are you better?” she asked, standing yards away +from him, and he remembered how she had come closer +indeed last May. “Is the nurse here?”</p> + +<p>“No!” wonderingly. “At her tea. Won’t you—sit +down?”</p> + +<p>She shook her head, and he saw with a queer listlessness +that she was shaking from head to foot.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t want to come,” she cried, as if his indifference +had thrown her back on herself. “Levallion sent +me. I was to ask how you were, and—give you this!” +Flushing, trembling, she held out his ring.</p> + +<p>Gordon held his tongue. No wonder she had not +wanted to come. And then his temper nearly betrayed +him.</p> + +<p>“He could not have found a messenger more charming,” +he said, with icy politeness.</p> + +<p>Ravenel caught her breath.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I know you hate me!” she cried. “I know how +you changed your mind at the last minute—though that +was the only decent thing you ever did—and never came +for me; left me like an old shoe for any one to pick +up after you had made my name a by-word. But I mean +you to tell me one thing in spite of my—self-respect.” +Her voice shook like her body. “Where did you get my +ring?”</p> + +<p>He gazed at her in blind stupefaction.</p> + +<p>“You sent it back to me,” he said bluntly, “in your +anger. I can’t see why you ask.”</p> + +<p>“I!” said Lady Levallion. “I sent it back to you!” +The ring fell from her hand and rolled where it would +on the floor. Her gray eyes seemed suddenly to come +alive, to blaze in her pale face.</p> + +<p>“Where’s the letter?” she cried scornfully. “Show me +the letter.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t; it’s in town with my things. God knows +why I was fool enough to keep it, but I was. And more +fool still, for I know it by heart. But you can’t need +to hear it.”</p> + +<p>“Say it!” She stamped her foot.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Thank you very much for your present.” In spite +of his puzzled anger, he obliged her, in a voice utterly +flat and lifeless. “But I don’t want to keep your ring. +I send it back in this. You had better wear it yourself.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +“<span class="smcap">Ravenel.</span>”<br> +</p> +</div> + +<p>“And, as you see, I did, being, as I said, a fool.”</p> + +<p>“Lady Annesley! It was Lady Annesley’s ring,” she +said, standing as if her wits had gone from her, wild, +shamelessly truthful. “Listen! I never wrote to you; +I didn’t know your address, since you never gave it to +me. And if I had written I couldn’t have sent you back +your ring, for I lost it the day before the duchess’ garden-party. +Yes, two days,” marking them off on her fingers, +“before that afternoon I waited for you and didn’t +know you’d thrown me over to sink or swim!”</p> + +<p>“You waited—you!” Sister Elizabeth would have +screamed with wonder to see the invalid get up like another +man, cross the floor between him and his hostess in +three strides, and catch her by the shoulder with his +sound hand. “For God’s sake, Nel, speak out, since +you’ve begun!”</p> + +<p>The old name, the old voice with the passion in it +broke down her courage, made her forget for one short +while that more than lost rings lay between him and her. +With a lump in her throat that made her hoarse, she told +him all the sorry little story in quick, husky whispers, +lest some one might overhear.</p> + +<p>“So when you said in your note that you’d be at the +duchess’ I went. Lady Annesley gave me a gown. You +were not there, and I came home. You said you would +come the next day and you never did. And Levallion +told me you had sailed—without a word to me. And +I’d lost that ring,” passionately.</p> + +<p>“Levallion! How did he come across you?” with a +ghastly wonder if Levallion were quite clean of the business, +and heedless that he had never said why he was +not at the duchess’. But Ravenel noted.</p> + +<p>“He was at the party and was kind to me.” With a +sudden aside she remembered, and faced him stonily. +“But there’s no earthly sense in all this! Of course, +when I heard you had a wife already I knew you had +excellent reason to leave me. It was the first honorable +thing you ever did.”</p> + +<p>“A wife—me!” His hand on her shoulder relaxed +suddenly. “Who told you a lie like that? And how in +the name of God did you dare to believe it?”</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Murray—Hester Murray—told me. As for believing +it, it seemed all of a piece.”</p> + +<p>“Hester Murray told you—Hester!” His face had +been pale enough, but it was blanched now. He remembered +suddenly that he was in Levallion’s house, talking +to Levallion’s wife—that at any cost no one must come +in and find her like this.</p> + +<p>“Sit down,” he said. “And I can’t stoop; would you +mind picking up that ring?” for it looked like a glove +cast down for battle. “Now, tell me about Mrs. Murray. +What did she say?”</p> + +<p>“That you found Mrs. Gordon very expensive and a +drain on you, and that it had been a boyish folly of +yours,” she said from her chair at a decent distance +from his. “Who did she mean, if not your wife?”</p> + +<p>Adrian Gordon was dumb. In Levallion’s house Levallion’s +wife asked him this!</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">THE SEALED LETTER.</p> + + +<p>“She was not my wife,” Gordon said at last, for there +was no reason he should not clear himself, if he dared +not answer her plain question. “I never had a wife and +never will have. The woman Hester Murray meant was +nothing to me, though it was true she was in trouble +and I helped her, till I found out she was a worthless +liar. If Mrs. Murray dared,” he hesitated, “to tell you +that, some one must have made it very much worth her +while.”</p> + +<p>“Adrian,” said Ravenel, her eyes straight on his, “you +mean that? Because we’re just as if we were dead, you +and I. We’ve got to tell the truth.”</p> + +<p>“You know it’s true,” he answered heavily. “That +woman lied to you. Only I can’t see how it was her +business,” with the vile conviction on him that only at +Levallion’s own bidding would Hester Murray have +helped him to take a wife, and with pressure even then. +He roused himself sharply.</p> + +<p>“Never mind that, it doesn’t matter.” Since it was too +dangerous to touch on! “You say I didn’t go to the +duchess’. Well, I wrote to you that I couldn’t go; that +it was my only day to marry you.” She could hardly +hear him, saw him as in a mist through scalding tears +of relief that was yet worse anguish. “I waited all day. +I came back that night and threw gravel at your window, +tried every door in the house, and couldn’t wake +you or Tommy. Jacobs came out to bark, and found it +was a friend—but no one else. And at dawn I had to +go. Surely you must have heard, or Tommy must! I +made all the noise I dared.”</p> + +<p>“I never heard,” she answered, with a tearless sob, +“and Tommy could not have heard any one in the garden, +for he slept on the other side of the house.” She would +not tell him how she had cried herself to sleep on the +floor that night, and never waked till dawn. She went +on sharply: “If I had heard Jacobs bark I should never +have thought of you, because your letter said the next +day was—was when you were coming for me.” Not the +pains of hell could have made her say “our wedding-day.” +“I was only wretched because I’d lost your ring and had +such a dreadful disappointment at the party. I never +dreamed you had come for me while I was out.”</p> + +<p>“But, of course, I came! I wrote I should.” He +stared at her with a puzzled frown. “And you said you +got my letter?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, I got it,” slowly. “But you must have made a +mistake in it. It said you would come for me on the +14th, and be at the duchess’ on the 13th. Look!” with +an uncontrollable impulse she did what she had meant +not to do, and threw on the table that lying letter she +had kept because she was not brave enough to burn it. +“Read for yourself.”</p> + +<p>Tear-stained, rubbed out with long poring over, it +lay in his hand, but he was looking at the envelope instead +of the enclosure.</p> + +<p>“You see it was sealed!” she cried. “No one could +have opened it.”</p> + +<p>“That is just it,” said Gordon quietly. “I never sealed +a letter in my life. I never owned a seal with ‘A’ on it. +That was some one else’s work, Nel, not mine.” He +shook the letter out painfully with one hand and let the +light slant across it. “Look,” he said, “the dates have +been rubbed out and altered. Just five minutes’ work and +a bit of sealing-wax, but they’ve ruined you and me. +See, I wrote, ‘I can’t go to the duchess’!’ And one flick +of a rubber made it, ‘I can go!’ But who could have +done it? Who could care?”</p> + +<p>“Lady Annesley.” There were no tears in her eyes, +just as there lurked no doubt in her heart. “The letters +all went to her first. I thought it had escaped her +notice, because of the London postmark, and the seal—like +a fool!—for in an Annesley house there must have +been plenty of seals with ‘A’ on them. And Tommy +warned me that very morning that he thought she had +her eyes on you and me. I might have known it—when +her ladyship was kind!” bitterly. “She couldn’t have +dared do it. She had no reason.”</p> + +<p>Lady Levallion laughed, and it was ugly laughter.</p> + +<p>“She’s allowed a thousand a year now, and a house,” +she said, in a voice like her laugh. “She has been able +to shake the dust of dulness and Annesley Chase and +mortgages off her feet. Oh! she had reason enough. +Tommy said she meant Levallion to marry me, but the +funny part of it is that in the end she had nothing to do +with it.”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” with a dull horror at the look +on her face. “And what did you mean just now about +Lady Annesley’s ring, when I said you sent mine back?”</p> + +<p>“I meant just that,” she answered bitterly. “I thought +I lost your ring, but I never did, since it’s here in my +hand. Who could have sent it to you but Sylvia? And +I know now how she got it. She cut the ribbon off my +neck when she tried on that wicked dress she gave me. +She pretended to arrange the train just to pick the ring +off the floor. I thought even then I must have dropped +it in her room, but I was afraid to ask. And then when +I was going to stay with the duchess she gave me a ring +of hers—and it was the note I sent that ring back to +her in that you know by heart. She simply enclosed +my ring in it to you. Oh”—she was getting out each +jerky sentence breathlessly—“I see it all now! Just like +A, B, C, one thing after another. Except,” listlessly, +“how she found out about it in the first place; but she +was always suspicious. It all began with my trying on +that dreadful dress—that I only took for you to see.”</p> + +<p>“And Levallion saw you instead,” quietly.</p> + +<p>“You’re wrong!” she cried. “It was all Sylvia. Levallion +had nothing to do with it. It was I! I, who, +after you went, got wicked. Married him with my eyes +open, to hurt you.” She covered her face.</p> + +<p>But all he said was almost to himself.</p> + +<p>“Nel, my Nel all the time!”</p> + +<p>“Not now,” fiercely, “nor ever! Adrian, can’t you see +it? We’re done for, just as though we were dead.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll see Lady Annesley first,” grimly.</p> + +<p>“You can’t!” she whispered. “Not now. She lied to +me, but I—I married Levallion of my own accord. And +he was good to me. I can see now that if I’d had the +sense to tell him he might have—but what had I to tell?” +breaking off with a sick sob. “Only that you had thrown +me over. I couldn’t expect him to write and ask you to +take me back again. And I thought you were married +and had lied to me.”</p> + +<p>“You couldn’t do anything,” feeling sick as he saw +himself as he had been all this time in her eyes. “I +wouldn’t wonder at anything you did. Tell me, is +Tommy also thinking me a scoundrel?”</p> + +<p>A penciled letter seemed such a little thing to be able +to drag a man’s honor in the dust, and take away from +him all that life held. There were both dismay and anger +in his eyes as he waited for her to answer.</p> + +<p>“Tommy only knows I was engaged to you, that I +lost my ring and you left me without writing. You +needn’t think I told any one the rest,” simply. “Adrian, +what are we going to do? Levallion—he’s been good.” +She faltered, stopped. Yet he knew her white lips were +not for Levallion.</p> + +<p>“We can’t do anything. I must go away,” and he +touched the lace at her wrist as if the very hem of her +garments were sacred to him; his eyes swept with the +old look from her bronze hair to her little shoes. But +from the sight of her wet eyes, her trembling lips, he +turned away, cursing himself that in blind madness he +had believed even her own handwriting against her; +wincing at the remembrance that “Levallion had been +kind.” Levallion, whose kind acts, to his knowledge, +had been two, and one of them might very well bear another +significance. He could not forget that it was Levallion +who had sent him to India.</p> + +<p>“Go? You can’t go! You’re not fit!” She was +frantic as she looked at his changed and ravaged face. +How worn he was—how like, with quick horror—to Levallion! +“Where can you go?”</p> + +<p>“Town,” laconically. “Rooms, till I’m better.”</p> + +<p>Like a flash she saw him sitting alone in those rooms, +with a broken ring, a lying letter, in pain, old in his +youth.</p> + +<p>“You can’t go. It would kill me!” she said quietly. +But she drew away from him so that her lace was out +of his reach. If he touched the flesh of her wrist she +knew that not Tommy, nor honor, nor Levallion, could +keep her from following him to the end of the world.</p> + +<p>“I must. I can’t stay here!”</p> + +<p>“I could nurse you, take care of you!” wildly, her +face bloodless over her lace tie, her collar of Levallion’s +pearls.</p> + +<p>“Any one on God’s earth but you!” said Gordon, with +a quick shudder. He leaned back in his chair as if he +were faint. He had known the light of his life was gone +out, but he had not known alien fingers had extinguished +it against Ravenel Annesley’s will.</p> + +<p>The hard words, the exhaustion in his face, steadied +her, as pain always did.</p> + +<p>“You’re worn out. I had no right to tell you,” she +said miserably. “I’ve only hurt you.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve shown me heaven,” he answered, and bravely, +for all his pain of body and mind. “Just that, after being +through hell and out again. Go now, Nel. They’ll wonder—you’ve +been so long! Give me the ring. I can keep +that, can’t I? It’s all I have, you know.”</p> + +<p>“But I’ll see you again?”</p> + +<p>“Not alone,” gravely. “It isn’t likely. So this is +good-by.”</p> + +<p>Good-by! After to-day, then, she would see his face +no more. Would never hear his voice, that could move +her as no voice on earth would ever do; would be alone +till she died, the ungrateful, unloving girl Levallion had +been good to. And he would be alone, too, but out in +the world where he could forget her, as men forget and +women never.</p> + +<p>Ashy pale, she put that unlucky ring in his hand; silent, +broken-hearted, turned away from him; and had +never loved him so much as now, when he bade her go.</p> + +<p>“Nel!” he said, and she turned at the door. But not +to go back to him, not to touch his hand nor to kiss him +but once before she went, for she read his face aright +and knew he would have died a thousand deaths first. +Only to stand and look at him as he at her, the truth +for the first and last time spoken between them. After +this it would be Levallion’s wife who met him, never +Nel Annesley who had loved him neither wisely nor +well, but madly and in the bitterness of her soul.</p> + +<p>“Good-by, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Be good. +Don’t forget me,” and shut his eyes that he might not see +her go.</p> + +<p>And neither of them heard the quiet breathing of +Sister Elizabeth, where she stood goggle-eyed in Adrian’s +bedroom.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">A GROWING CLOUD OF WITNESSES.</p> + + +<p>“My dear child, how are you?” cried the duchess and +kissed Ravenel on both cheeks.</p> + +<p>She was the last arrival of the house-party, and she +sank into a low chair by the fire and surveyed the scene, +covertly and without her long-handled glasses.</p> + +<p>The big hall of Levallion Castle was lit by two fires +and a sufficiency—no more—of shaded lamps. There +were plenty of cozy corners and secluded chairs behind +the great square pillars supporting the low roof, where +dull gold gleamed fitfully in the fire flicker. Among the +orderly disorder of chairs and tables and palms, people +were sitting in twos and threes—occasionally drinking +tea, laughing, warming themselves, and wondering what +sort of a married man Levallion made. His past record +happily did not point to a dull sojourn under his roof.</p> + +<p>But the duchess, like Gallio, cared for none of these +things.</p> + +<p>Her red, comfortably handsome face was turned to +the sumptuous figure at the tea-table, all white velvet +and Russian sable and floating, wavy chiffon.</p> + +<p>“I am Annesley’s little girl, turned into an accordion-plaited +angel!” thought her grace, blind to everything +but surprise. For Ravenel under her wing had been +only a remarkably pretty girl, rather quick, almost shy. +And here stood a beautiful woman, utterly self-possessed, +and a work of art from her carefully dressed hair to the +way her great gray eyes looked up from her tea-making.</p> + +<p>“A maid, that’s the reason of those beautifully done +waves!” thought the duchess. “But how much prettier +she is than I imagined. A woman with those eyebrows +and that upper lip might do anything. But what color +there is in her face, with those gray-blue eyes and black +eyebrows and that surprising bronze hair! She looks—eh, +what—Levallion? Oh, tea!”</p> + +<p>“It’s usual at this hour—or would you rather——”</p> + +<p>“Don’t worry me, my good man!” smartly. “She +looks well, Levallion; happier, I think!”</p> + +<p>“She is very well.” He glanced at his wife across +the buzzing room. The duchess was right, she did look +happier. The queer, stony look that had been in her +eyes was gone. It seemed to him that the change in +her dated from one evening when he had found her sitting +alone in her room, with a burning color in her +cheeks and quick unwonted questions on her tongue. He +remembered them now. “Levallion, you really love me? +You didn’t marry me because Sylvia arranged it—nor +just to have a wife? You would have married me all the +same even if I’d told you why——” but she had never +finished.</p> + +<p>“I married you for love, and nothing else,” he had +answered quietly, and she had watched him as he said it, +then turned from him and spoke laboredly, over her +shoulder.</p> + +<p>“I’ll do my best to be a good wife to you.”</p> + +<p>But even now he never imagined how at that moment +she come of her own accord to believe in what was true, +that he had known nothing of Sylvia’s maneuvering. +And her duty lay plain before her. To take up the life +she had deliberately made for herself and be a loyal wife +to the man who had always “been good” to her. Very +barren, very dreary, in spite of Levallion’s kindness that +life lay before her, but she would tread it faithfully to +the very end. And unconsciously a great joy leaped to +her eyes and ever since had burned there steadily. Adrian +might be lost to her a thousand times more than ever, +but in her soul she could worship him, for he had +been true.</p> + +<p>But Levallion, poor fool, had thanked God for that +rapture in her eyes; a man, too, who was not in the habit +of thanking God for anything.</p> + +<p>“There’s peace in her face,” said the duchess shortly, +having followed his eyes in that long pause. “Well, well! +You’re a better man than I thought, Levallion. Send +Tommy to me with the tea cake. You make me nervous +when you watch me eat.”</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas came without much alacrity. He had a +better opinion of the duchess’ shrewdness than Levallion; +and he was not easy in his mind. He knew quite +well that Ravenel’s renewed beauty and the quiet of her +face dated from that interview with Adrian Gordon, that +he had not discovered in time to prevent. He was uncomfortably +conscious that for all he knew the household +might be sitting on a volcano.</p> + +<p>“And how are you?” inquired his friend with her +mouth full. “I hear Lady Annesley is cutting a dash at +Harrogate. I don’t suppose you miss her!”</p> + +<p>“Not much!” stolidly, though he would rather a hundred +times have been back under her ladyship’s rule and +been sitting half-fed at Annesley Chase with the old +Ravenel, than here in Levallion’s house with a sister who +would not meet his eye.</p> + +<p>“I’m not pining away for Lady Annesley.”</p> + +<p>“She’d give her eyes to be here,” the duchess chuckled +unkindly. “You seem to have an extremely cheerful collection. +By the way, how’s young Gordon? I hear he’s +been very ill here?”</p> + +<p>“He’s better,” shortly. “He had a sort of relapse last +week. But he’s coming down to dinner to-night. We”—hastily—“haven’t +seen anything of him. He’s had a +nurse.”</p> + +<p>But the duchess merely murmured that it was a sad +case, a man with a shattered bridle arm being of no +further use in a hussar regiment; and passed serenely +on. She had no intention of telling Tommy that she had +found out all about that marriage that never came off. +The curate at Effingham had talked, and the whole parish +knew about the couple who had never come to be +married, but had wasted a special license and the curate’s +time. Ravenel’s past was no business of any one’s but +Levallion, who would never hear it.</p> + +<p>“If she has any sense she knows by this time that Levallion’s +little finger is worth a whole string of lovesick +soldiers,” she thought. “I never saw a man so softened +and improved in all my life. He looks twenty years +younger. But all the same, if he’s wise, he won’t press +his distinguished young relative to an indefinite stay.”</p> + +<p>But even the duchess felt a shocked pity that night at +dinner as she looked across the flowers and gold plate +and saw how very ill and worn Captain Gordon looked. +Why, the man was a death’s head. A romantic, undesirable +death’s head, with its arm in a sling. She glanced +at Ravenel and saw to her infinite relief that she was not +so much as looking Gordon’s way. Exquisitely fair in +ivory satin and burned orange velvet, she was talking to +the man on her right hand with her old childlike mirth. +But the duchess was near-sighted. Sir Thomas Annesley +could have told her that there was anything but mirth +in Ravenel’s steady eyes. And truly repentance, impotent +pain, and fear were doing their work. Under that +smart bodice Lady Levallion’s heart was aching dully +while she made conversation, as many a better woman’s +has done and will do while the world goes round.</p> + +<p>She knew quite well that the width of a white table-cloth +separated her from Adrian as utterly as a gulf of +a thousand miles. Knew that after dinner he would +never speak to her, except in the few sentences decently +demanded from guests to hostess; that as soon as he +could he would get away from the house.</p> + +<p>“Oh, I’ve simply got to speak to him!” she thought. +“If I have to make the chance myself,” for there were +two things she had forgotten to ask him, and one of them +rankled. Why had he said he was too poor to marry +her openly, and all the while was Levallion’s sole heir? +The probable successor to the richest earldom in England +is not usually considered a bad match, even by more +greedy people than Ravenel. And who was the woman +who had come to ask after him; though she cared very +little, or she determined to think so. She came out of +her thoughts with a jerk, suddenly conscious that she +had not the least idea what the man beside her was saying.</p> + +<p>“I was thinking how pretty all the women are,” she +observed quickly, to avoid having to say. “I beg your +pardon.”</p> + +<p>Lord Chayter surveyed the table. It was quite true, +every woman there was a picture in her way; and nearly +all he saw were dark; and made a foil to the peachy +loveliness, the curled bronze head of their hostess.</p> + +<p>“My own wife’s the only one of ’em I’d care to kiss +though!” he remarked, rather after the manner of Levallion, +who was his dearest friend.</p> + +<p>“That’s very charming—and proper—of you!”</p> + +<p>“No! It’s the ‘hard kalsomine finish’ that appals me,” +coolly. “Come now, Lady Levallion, you don’t mean to +say you can’t see it?”</p> + +<p>For Ravenel, who owned no rouge-pot and eschewed +powder, was looking at him bewilderedly.</p> + +<p>“I thought——” she began, and then laughed, but not +too gaily, “was everything in the grand world a sham, +even down to the lovely color on the women’s cheeks?”</p> + +<p>“That all things were what they seemed? Well, they +ain’t unfortunately! You really ought to be congratulated +on your cook, Lady Levallion. I never ate better +chicken done with almonds than this.”</p> + +<p>“I hope you won’t get tired of it,” she returned. “Levallion +is so fond of almonds. He arranges the dinners, +you know. I should have roast beef and plum tart, he +thinks—and so I would!”</p> + +<p>Lord Chayter thought she looked as if she lived on +peaches and cream; but he did not say so, for something +caught his attention.</p> + +<p>“Do you never have the blinds down in this room?” +he inquired suddenly. “Oh, I see, there are none. But +don’t you think it’s rather uncanny to look over the table +and candles and things, and the ladies’ pretty frocks, to +those blank, dark windows? It makes me feel creepy,” +frankly. “As if ghosts might be peering in!”</p> + +<p>“We never use this room when we’re alone. The windows +must be a fancy of Levallion’s. I don’t see very +well how we could have blinds on them.”</p> + +<p>For the state dining-room was on the ground floor in +the oldest part of the castle, and the windows were sunk +deep and narrow in the six-foot wall which slanted away +from them till each foot-wide window-glass made the +apex of a wide stone V.</p> + +<p>“I should!” said Lord Chayter, who was fat and fair +and screwed-up eyed. “Makes me nervous. Now look, +just opposite us! Couldn’t you swear some one was +looking in? though, of course, it’s all fancy.”</p> + +<p>Lady Levallion’s glance followed his and grew suddenly +startled. For, though it was gone in an instant, +even as she looked at it, there had been something like a +white face, like gleaming eyes, pressed to the window-pane +of the embrasured window.</p> + +<p>“There, you see! Though it’s either imagination or a +gardener’s boy,” said Lord Chayter. “Don’t look so +frightened.”</p> + +<p>“I’m not frightened,” quietly, “but I think you’re right. +Those blank windows make the room uncanny. I’ll have +something done to them to-morrow,” but like lightning +her thoughts had flown at the sight of that face against +the glass to the strange woman who had come to inquire +for Adrian; though there could be no earthly connection.</p> + +<p>“Let her look!” she thought contemptuously. “She +won’t see much to please her. And not a soul in the +house knows anything about Adrian and me, and that’s +all I care about.” Quite unconscious that Tommy and +the duchess suspected what Sister Elizabeth knew; and +that every wind that blew, every hour that passed, was +pushing her nearer to the greatest horror any woman can +face.</p> + +<p>“Screens would do it,” returned Lord Chayter serenely, +turning some attention to his dinner, and determining +to drop a hint to Levallion. For there were +windows on both sides of the big room, and it seemed +a coincidence that if any one had looked in they should +have chosen the side behind and not facing Lord Levallion’s +sharp eyes. He gave the subject what he considered +a happy turn.</p> + +<p>“Captain Gordon looks pretty shaky! He ought to be +careful, if he prefers earth to heaven,” he observed. +“Better keep him here and let some of these charming +ladies take him in hand. He wants a course of petting, the +platonic kind, you know!” Ravenel caught the duchess’ +eye, and rose thankfully.</p> + +<p>“Any one on earth to nurse me rather than you!” +Adrian had said. But her punishment would be more +than she could bear if she must stand by and see any of +these women do it. She utterly forgot that white phantom +face at the dark window.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">IN OUTER DARKNESS.</p> + + +<p>And yet it was not such a phantom after all! Inside +were women in satin gowns, sitting at their ease among +lights and flowers and frivolous talk. Outside in the +damp chill of the autumn rain stood another woman, raising +herself uncomfortably to the level of that unblinded +window. Cold to the bone, sick with envy and despair +she saw the lighted room as the stage at a theater, where +she should have been among the actors, but had been +cast out into the pit.</p> + +<p>Oh, the night, and the rain! What a fool she had +been to come out in her house dress without a mackintosh; +she would be wet to the skin. Suddenly, fiercely, +she knew she did not care; and she raised herself on tiptoe +on the stone terrace, clinging with one trembling +hand to the sharp stonework round the window. It was +senseless, useless, yet she must see. And, perhaps, if +luck were in her way, if she came night after night, +might see something that, if it did not turn Levallion to +her again, might at least turn him from some one else.</p> + +<p>There was Levallion with his back to her. She had +tried the other side of the room first and left it hurriedly +for fear of his eyes. And over his shoulder, opposite +him, she could see the girl who had supplanted her; +whom she—Hester Murray—had helped to do it. A +sheer physical pang made her move back from the window. +Lady Levallion in her ivory and orange, her exquisite +young throat and arms bare, her face immaculately +fresh and young, was not a sight the woman who +shivered in the rain could bear to look on. Ten years +ago she had been within an ace of sitting in her place; a +year ago would have been hand in glove with all that +well-dressed company who surrounded her. To-night +she knew quite well that not one of them but would +have cut her in the park. For things had come out! +Her not being asked to Levallion’s wedding had set a +match to the train, and poor, kindly, drunken Bob Murray +had made a scene one night before a lot of people, +and said things that made even Hester’s gods of money +and smartness look at her askance. He had named no +names, it was true; but he had said quite enough. And +then he had departed from her house, from her and her +boy forever; saying they were no concern of his. And +though Levallion did not believe her, for excellent reasons, +when she told him she had no money, it was quite +true. Her debts—that she had made sure would be paid +for her—had swallowed up all she possessed. It took +all she could scrape to keep her boy at school, and her +tenancy of the raw new bungalow in Levallion’s own +village was her last throw, her forlorn hope. When he +was tired of his new toy, perhaps he might come back +to her; at all events she would give him the chance and +trust to luck to pay her rent!</p> + +<p>But she was not thinking of those things now. Only +that her downfall had been all her own fault. A little +carelessness, an unskilful lie found out, and her life had +toppled about her ears. And even this marriage of Levallion’s +was partly her work. She could still see Ravenel +Annesley’s face as it looked in the glass the day +she had told that mad lie about Adrian Gordon.</p> + +<p>“The girl cared then,” she thought, pressing her hand +to her burning eyes. “And he’s here still. If she cares +now Levallion will get rid of her. I know him. Oh, I +hope she’ll care! I wonder what there was between +them, and if Sylvia told the truth about their meaning +to get married.” Once more she raised herself to peer +through the barren window, and saw Adrian Gordon +plainly enough to catch with a fierce leap of her heart +how very ill he looked. “He may die yet! But it +would be better if he lived, perhaps, and made love to his +old flame,” with the coarse thought of a woman who +habitually speaks daintily. “If he does Levallion shall +see it, shall——” She had been so occupied with Adrian +as not to notice that two faces, Lady Levallion’s and +Lord Chayter’s, were turned curiously in her direction, +but she felt their eyes with sudden intuition and moved +swiftly away into the dark. It was no part of her +schemes to be seen looking at Levallion’s dinner-party +like a dismissed servant.</p> + +<p>“All that for her,” she thought bitterly, “and nothing +for me and the boy! I would have done better to have +stuck to Bob. He never drank till I ran away from him; +he would have been kind to me. Oh, Levallion’s a devil! +a devil!” It was all she could do not to cry it aloud. “If +I can’t get anything out of him, I’ll be even with him. +I’ll find some way to make him feel. If I know anything +of faces that pink-and-white girl won’t be able to keep +away from her old lover. And then we’ll see. Levallion +in a rage would do anything, anything! Oh! I’m +not done yet, I’m not despairing yet. Not with Adrian +Gordon in the house and Levallion in love with his wife. +Oh, my God!” and this time she spoke in a dreadful +croaking whisper. “What a fool I was ever to imagine +for one instant that he was in love with me!”</p> + +<p>She drew away into the scant shelter of an evergreen, +and pushed her wet, uncurled hair out of her eyes. She +had no motive for staying here shivering and drenched, +but the air and the rain even were better than sitting +alone by her solitary fireside, when no one of all the +people she had ever asked to dinner would dream of +coming to see her. Once start the truth about a woman +who lives by her wits, and a hundred things true and +untrue come up to confirm it. Hester Murray’s pitcher +had gone once too often to the well; it was broken for +good and all now. And Levallion, who had once been +her slave, had forbidden her to come within his gates.</p> + +<p>“Well, he can do it,” she thought defiantly, “but he +can’t make me obey him! I’ll try one more window and +then I’ll go. I don’t want to kill myself.” And the +sharp shiver that went through her made her move +hastily through the darkness. It was odd, but the drip +of the rain from the house made her think of earth falling +into a grave. It was ghostly, terrifying to lurk outside +in the dark, while women no better than she sat at their +ease on the other side of a window-pane.</p> + +<p>Stumbling, for all her slim grace; weary, for all the +passion that burned in her, she made her way round the +house in the pitchy darkness that had somehow got on +her nerves. There was a little alcove in the drawing-room, +whose modern French window reached the floor—it +was odd how well Mrs. Murray knew the house—it +would do no harm to glance in there, if the blind was up. +They would be coming out from dinner soon; and she +might as well see all she could before going back to that +lonely house where no one ever came. And once more +that pang at her heart sickened her. All this might have +been hers once, and had been thrown away.</p> + +<p>There was no standing on tiptoe to reach this second +window. Before she neared it she saw the square of +light it flung on the grass, saw the convenient rose-bush +which would shield her from any one inside. And if +there had been any one to see the fierce white face, so +changed from that of the Hester Murray who had been +all smiles and softness, they might have shrunk away as +if they saw an evil spirit.</p> + +<p>“Ah!” she drew in her breath sharply, for she had +builded better than she knew.</p> + +<p>Dinner was over; the men were coming into the drawing-room; +one, with his arm in a sling, coming straight +to this alcove, unconscious, though Hester did not know +it, that it already held his hostess looking for a book +for which the duchess had asked her. He had sat down +wearily before he saw the gleam of orange and ivory +the watcher outside had seen long ago, as she saw Lady +Levallion drop the just-found book and turn to him +quickly, breathlessly.</p> + +<p>Yet her words might have been shouted on the housetops; +there was no need for Mrs. Murray to strain her +ears to catch those compromising utterances through the +glass.</p> + +<p>“Won’t you go to bed? You look so tired!”</p> + +<p>He nodded. He could hardly bear to look at her +whom once he had never wanted out of his sight.</p> + +<p>“I’ll go directly. I meant to go away to-morrow, but +the doctor won’t let me travel till the end of the week.” +His eyes on her wistfully, saying what his lips dared not—that +it was not his fault that he was making things so +hard for her.</p> + +<p>“He’s quite right,” she answered, for the benefit of any +one who might be outside the curtained recess. “We +are very glad to have you,” but the hard-held look of her +face told Gordon what he knew—that the words were a +mockery.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Murray remembered suddenly that she had not +seen Levallion come into the room. An unreasoning and +instinctive terror caught her heart, and sent her noiselessly, +invisibly in her dark dress, yards away from the +lighted window. And just in time.</p> + +<p>Levallion, sauntering with apparent aimlessness, an Inverness +cape thrown over his shoulder, an unlit cigarette +in his mouth, came round the corner of the house, Lord +Chaytor’s recital of the half-seen face at the window +having set him wondering if it were real or not. But +he had seen no one, and in front of the window he +stopped and lit his cigarette, deciding Chaytor had looked +upon more champagne than was good for him.</p> + +<p>His unseen neighbor slipped behind him, paused for +one second to look under his upraised arm before she +took to her heels. And both of them saw the same sight. +A girl turning from a man with a curious, pitiful gesture, +stopped half-way; and the man, left alone, covering his +haggard eyes with his hand. Levallion turned like a +flash and had Hester Murray by the elbow.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">A WICKED WOMAN’S TONGUE.</p> + + +<p>“I heard you breathing,” Levallion said composedly. +“No, don’t you struggle; I’ll let you go! Only be kind +enough to tell me what earthly pleasure it gives you to +look in my windows.”</p> + +<p>“No pleasure,” said Hester Murray, after a minute, +when her frightened heart had seemed to choke her, +and the quick withdrawal of his contemptuous grasp +to make her a thing of no moment. “Only misery. Oh, +Levallion! Won’t you be less hard on me? If you let +me come here and be friendly with your wife it would +set things right again. It kills me to be alone without +a friend in the world.”</p> + +<p>“What things? What do you mean?” sharply.</p> + +<p>She dared not tell him. He would never help her if +he knew.</p> + +<p>“Nothing much,” she said, shivering, only half-artificially. +“I’ve lost all my money, and—and people seem +to have dropped me! To stay in your house with the +duchess might help me.”</p> + +<p>“Has she dropped you, too,” he inquired, wondering +if, after all his careful analysis, she was not such a fool +as she seemed.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her lately,” though +she knew well enough.</p> + +<p>Levallion’s hawk eyes narrowed as he peered at her +in the rainy darkness. Her wet hair strayed in lank +locks down her face, that for once was not smiling. +(How he had grown to loathe Hester’s smile!) He +put up a suspicious hand on her thin shoulder and recoiled. +She was wet to the skin, her thin house-dress +a sticky, sopping mass.</p> + +<p>“Look here, Hester!” he said almost kindly. “Better +give up this business and go home. You won’t mend +matters by being seen hanging about here after dark, +merely get some very unpleasant illness.”</p> + +<p>“I wish I’d died long ago.” There was something +strained in her voice; even in the dark she did not look +at him.</p> + +<p>“I see what you mean about having no money.” It +was odd how that queer note in her utterance killed the +pity in him. “You had plenty.”</p> + +<p>“There were debts—old debts,” she gasped, eagerly +grasping at this chance, at least. “Debts from ten years +ago——”</p> + +<p>“You told me there were none,” he shrugged his +shoulders. “If there were, ten-year-old debts are outlawed.”</p> + +<p>“I had kept on paying a little on them. I didn’t know +that obviated any time-limit. They sold me up for the +principal and interest.” Only desperate hope made her +speak the truth. “I tell you, Levallion, I haven’t a sou!”</p> + +<p>“For an astute woman you haven’t managed well,” +he said, after what seemed a long time. “If you had +five hundred a year allowed you, quarterly, do you think +you would be able to stay at home in the evenings?”</p> + +<p>Five hundred a year to the woman who had had five +times as many thousands spent on her! But she swallowed +her rage, her contempt at his beggarly offer.</p> + +<p>“I suppose—I could,” she said slowly. “But—oh! +it’s not my poverty that hurts me, it’s——”</p> + +<p>“Do go home, I beg of you!” said Levallion coldly. +“You are not yourself. And, remember that you shall +be supplied with what I consider an adequate income if +you will leave this place and live elsewhere”—for, after +all, he could not let the woman starve, dire and evil as +had been her sins against him.</p> + +<p>“I’ll go—I’ll do anything,” she muttered, with a sudden +exhaustion that made her clutch the dripping bushes +beside her. “But listen to me first. In spite of everything, +I care for you still. I’d do anything for you. +I’ve no pride left. If you will come and see me sometimes, +your marriage shall be as if it had never happened——”</p> + +<p>“Have the goodness,” interrupted Lord Levallion icily, +“to leave my marriage out of the question. It concerns +you in no way whatever.”</p> + +<p>“It concerns me, because it kills me to see you taken +in, deceived!” she cried fiercely, and so quickly that he +could not stop her. “You could have seen it for yourself, +not ten minutes ago, if you had not been besotted +about her. Ask your wife what she knows about Adrian +Gordon, and why she did not marry him,” utterly reckless +now as to whether her lie about Adrian’s wife were +found out or not. “She was engaged to him fast +enough; but he was poor and you were rich. It was +better to marry you, and have him come and stay in your +house. Ask Sylvia Annesley—but she’ll lie to you! Ask +that big-eyed brother of hers, who never lets his sister +out of his sight. She never loved you, and she can +love—in her girl’s way! Not like me, for I’ll love you +till I die. Oh, Levallion!” panting, wild, she seized his +arm, “don’t throw me over! Think of the boy, think +how I have no world but you!”</p> + +<p>“Don’t touch me,” said Levallion, with sudden acrid +fury, as if he had waked from some bad dream in which +he was bound and speechless. “Go!”</p> + +<p>“Say that if you’re ever miserable—unhappy—you’ll +come back to me!” She was pleading for her very life, +as a fool does when death is certain. “Levallion!”</p> + +<p>A curious stiffness came over the man from head to +foot. When it broke he would have no power over +tongue or hand; and this was a woman.</p> + +<p>“Go away. Be quick!” he said hoarsely. “Because +of what’s past you shall have your money, but not if +you stay in my village. Your lies——”</p> + +<p>“They’re truth,” contemptuously. “Ask, ask, and +you’ll see!” She was so close to him that he felt her +breath on his face. “Then perhaps you’ll come to me.”</p> + +<p>“If you were dying in the gutter I would not come to +you,” he spoke so evenly that she did not know that +death stood closer to her than even Lord Levallion. “If +you crawled after me on your knees, I would not change +to you—or the boy! No matter what happened, neither +you nor he shall ever get anything from me but the bread +I would give to a beggar. Do you understand?” and in +the dark she could not see his face.</p> + +<p>“Oh! you think so now, I know. But when you find +her out——”</p> + +<p>That curious strained rigidity seemed to drop from +him like a garment. A dreadful, fiery pain shot through +his heart, ran in his blood, curved his fine hands.</p> + +<p>“Go!” said Levallion thickly, “before I kill you with +my hands.” But as he turned on her she had seen his +eye.</p> + +<p>She shrank away and ran, madly, where she neither +knew nor cared. She had gone too far with him! He +would murder her out here in the dark. Her dry, shut +throat could make no sound in the terror that would not +let her scream. Trembling, stumbling, falling and getting +up again, Hester Murray fled through the darkness and +rain. Her gown, that had been a soaked whisp, was a +mass of filthy mud, her hands were caked with the +clay of the roads, but she ran still, round and round +sometimes, but, by degrees, more in the right direction. +It was not till her breath absolutely would not come to +her aching lungs, and the blood beat in her face, that +she came to herself, and realized where she was. Alone +on a country road, nearly at her own house, with not a +soul following her, not a sign of those devilish eyes that +had gleamed murder at her through the dark.</p> + +<p>“He would have killed me!” she said to herself as +soon as her choking heart-beats would let her. “I’ll +never get anything from him but that five hundred a +year that’s no use. Does he——” but a noise startled +her, and she ran again like a drunken woman, staggering +from side to side till she reached her own door.</p> + +<p>Her wet hair down her back, her hands filthy, her +black, gauzy gown an indescribable mass of mud and +twigs and tatters, the blood purple in her pulsing face, +she burst into her own drawing-room, where a lamp +burned dimly, though there was no fire in the grate.</p> + +<p>“Does he think I’m a fool? That I won’t pay him +out, if I have to break myself to do it?” she cried +fiercely, since her one maid went home at night, and +there was no one to hear her.</p> + +<p>But she was wrong, for a man’s voice answered her +from the depths of a high-backed chair that was turned +away from her.</p> + +<p>“A fool! No one could see you and think that,” and +the owner of the voice rose, looked at her, and recoiled +with a quick word.</p> + +<p>“But what is the matter with you? You are hurt—drowned—tell +me quickly.”</p> + +<p>Hester Murray, in her wet, unspeakable gown, sat +down on one of her clean chintz chairs and told him. +Whether the exact truth, or not, does not matter; but +crimson-faced, glittering-eyed, she was a dreadful sight +as the quick words came from her lips.</p> + +<p>What he said, what she answered, she could not remember +half an hour later, as she dragged her exhausted +body up to bed, with a curiously compounded drink in +a tumbler, which was to counteract the effects of exposure +and fright. She fell asleep as soon as she felt +the comfort of her warm bed, only muttering now and +again as sleep gained on her:</p> + +<p>“I’ll do it. He brought it on himself. It was—his +fault. I hate him. I hate him!” and the fury of the +thought wakened her for one burning, choking instant +till her queer potion took hold of her, and she fell +fast asleep, as they say men have done in the rack.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">WHITE POPPIES OF OBLIVION.</p> + + +<p>Levallion, left alone on the wet grass, had never made +one step after her.</p> + +<p>Alone, in the night and the rain, he had fought +down that dreadful passion, that loathing that had made +him forget everything but the desire to be rid of a +venomous thing. He fought down, too, a harder thing; +the shame that comes after the breaking out of a devil’s +temper, whose leash has given way under strain; and +at last could turn and go into his house, join his party, +as if nothing had happened.</p> + +<p>“Well! Did you discover any one?” Lord Chayter +inquired covertly.</p> + +<p>Levallion looked at him.</p> + +<p>“There was no one there,” he said calmly, not knowing +that to have told the truth would have been to put a +bar in the way his young wife must travel. He could not +tell Chayter what was none of his business, and might +work round through the women to Ravenel.</p> + +<p>His eyes passed his friend and found his wife.</p> + +<p>“By ——!” said the man’s mind heavily. “If ever I +saw innocence, there it sits. What do I care if she +was engaged to Adrian twenty times over, she did not +marry me to be Lady Levallion! She married me because +she was wretched, and if I would have listened to +her, she would have told me the whole story. Ask +Sylvia!” he smiled as he alone could smile when his +heart ached. “I would as soon ask the devil for holy +water! And if Tommy did not punch my head for impertinence +if I asked him—gad! I’d kick him. I’m not +in my dotage that I believe the statements of an angry, +hysterical woman.”</p> + +<p>But, in spite of himself, Levallion saw every action of +Ravenel’s through a magnifying-glass all the next day. +It rained, and there was no shooting to speak of; the +men were at home by luncheon-time, and up to that +Lady Levallion had been with them, chaperoning Mrs. +Damerel, sick and against her will, since to kill birds +for pleasure was to her a crime. And all that afternoon +she never spoke to Adrian Gordon, nor he to her. +They might have been utter strangers with a preconceived +dislike to one another. But Adrian looked like +a haunted man, who deliberately turns his eyes from +the sight he dare not see.</p> + +<p>“Levallion,” said a charming voice in his ear at tea-time, +“I have an idea!”</p> + +<p>It was Mrs. Damerel, who had for years cherished a +platonic—and unreturned—affection for her handsome, +sharp-tongued host.</p> + +<p>Levallion repressed the obvious retort.</p> + +<p>“Tell it,” he drawled; “I never have any!”</p> + +<p>“Let us have a fancy ball to-night—oh! I know there +are only twenty of us, but it’s enough. The men can +wear evening dress,” shrewdly, “but the women must +all dress in their favorite flower, and wear masks. We’re +nearly all the same height, and it would be so amusing. +Fancy,” with a delighted laugh, “if you were to take +me for your wife!”</p> + +<p>“You never gave me a chance! You refused to +poison Damerel,” calmly. “Every woman her favorite +flower—delicious! But what a revelation of character! +What’s yours? The flower of silence?”</p> + +<p>“Then we may?” cried Mrs. Damerel, and hoped she +blushed, though it would have taken sharper eyes than +Levallion’s to see it. “I’ll tell Lady Levallion. My +flower, indeed! We will all be quite secret, and you +can guess when you see us,” abandoning her choice of +the rose of silence for the more exciting mistletoe of +kisses. “Oh, Levallion! don’t you think the duchess +would be lovely as a cauliflower?” in a wicked whisper. +“She is so like one.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll inquire,” said Levallion briskly, and he did, with +Mrs. Damerel’s compliments, perfectly aware the duchess +detested her.</p> + +<p>Ravenel jumped at the proposal, since it would be better +than nothing, would pass the time of which she yet +grudged every hopeless, useless minute since they only +brought the day nearer when Adrian would be gone. +She looked at the tea-gowned women around her with +some interest, though before they had been to her little +more than moving shadows who yet must be entertained +and amused.</p> + +<p>There were only seven, counting herself and the +Duchess of Avonmere, for Levallion had no opinion of +people who asked ten ordinary husbands and wives to +their houses and expected it to be a cheerful gathering. +Thirteen men, of whom only two were husbands, kept +things stirring. It was no business of Levallion’s where +the three uninvited husbands had betaken themselves.</p> + +<p>“I believe,” she said to herself, “that I know what +flower each one of those women will choose!” and she +laughed as she sent an order to the greenhouse that +every one was to have exactly what their maids asked +for.</p> + +<p>The thought of her own favorite flower took the color +from her cheek. Oh, the white may that had filled the +whole world that day that she and Adrian parted—forever—without +knowing it. Never again would Lady +Levallion smell may of her own free will. She looked +up almost guiltily as Levallion spoke to her under cover +of getting Mrs. Damerel’s second cup of tea.</p> + +<p>“You look tired; slip away and rest,” he advised, +with a look of coldness that was not like him—to her. +“And be wise in time, Ravenel; don’t wear real flowers +to-night, unless you want to resemble the sweepings of +Covent Garden!”</p> + +<p>Lady Levallion nodded.</p> + +<p>“It was that shooting; it made me feel sick,” hastily; +and if he did not believe her, seeing Adrian’s face and +hers, he liked her courage. If she had come to him +and cried and confided, he would have despised her, +even while he dried her tears. To ease your own soul +by piling your indiscretions or sorrows on some one +else was against Levallion’s creed.</p> + +<p>“I have no favorite flower,” she said, with a laugh, +having crushed down the ghosts of flowers she loved +and hated, “and—listen, Levallion, bend your head down, +and—neither have any of them! They’re racking their +brains now to discover what their adorers prefer.”</p> + +<p>Levallion laughed. He had not thought she knew so +much, all his dear friends being truly but mirrors of the +pose of the moment, on the tastes of the “man in possession.” +And her laugh lightened his heart, and made +him remember that Hester Murray was, and always had +been, a liar.</p> + +<p>“Mind you look better than the lot,” he remarked +cheerfully, and without much anxiety, for not a woman +in the room could come near her for looks.</p> + +<p>“My favorite flower will depend on what Celeste has +in her boxes,” she thought, as she went up-stairs. Ordinary +evening dress was to be worn at dinner, as usual; +but before the men came to the picture-gallery, where +they were to dance, the ladies could have time to change +and put on their masks, which Mrs. Damerel’s maid was +making out of black silk, exactly alike, with black hoods +to match and cover the hair, which might betray the +wearers.</p> + +<p>Celeste, with a face of despair, had nothing.</p> + +<p>“There are pink roses, but they would be so ordinary, +my lady,” she said, rooting wildly in her stores. “Nothing +else, unless——” She opened a cardboard box +doubtfully, and gazed at its contents. “They are not +gay flowers!” she commented.</p> + +<p>“They will do, perfectly,” said Ravenel, after one +second. “They are very—appropriate. Sew them on +firmly, Celeste, and make me a little wreath that will go +under my hood.”</p> + +<p>An old tag of poetry had leaped into her memory as +she looked at the white mass in the box, but she had +no tremors lest any one else should remember and apply +it.</p> + +<p>She looked at herself narrowly in the glass when, +after dinner which, by the way, was anything but good, +Levallion having had a fresh battle with Carrousel on +the subject of the disappearance of the first orchids of +the season—she achieved her toilet, and, with thankfulness, +hid herself in her thick, black mask. For behind +it she could let her mouth take what shape it liked, +and, thank God! for one night need not be always smiling.</p> + +<p>Levallion was late. He stood at one end of the long +picture-gallery, whence he had coolly banished all his +ancestors as being too hideous to contemplate, and looked +between the walls covered with modern French pictures +to the far end of the room.</p> + +<p>There were the guests in a group—and for a moment +he was honestly puzzled, for the women were all +of a height, as Mrs. Damerel had said.</p> + +<p>Then he laughed, for he saw the duchess. And the +duchess had taken Mrs. Damerel’s words to heart and +bedecked herself with real and veritable cauliflowers—but +with what a genius!</p> + +<p>On the white velvet gown were bestowed wreaths and +bunches of the white part of her homely vegetable, which +were almost as velvety as the gown itself.</p> + +<p>She disdained either mask or hood, and her curled, +gray head rose over her ornaments with the air of a +woman who may be fifty, but has slain a spiteful foe +with her own weapon, and knows it.</p> + +<p>“The blue one with forget-me-nots is Lady Chayter.” +Levallion looked again at the group. “Artificial! Artificial! +I don’t believe she ever picked a real one in her +life.</p> + +<p>“Yellow and Maréchal Niel roses—Mrs. Arbuthnot. +That sweet vision of chiffon and lilies is Betty Beauchamp! +Betty—who has a new young man every month +in the year!” and he grinned.</p> + +<p>It was more amusing than such nonsense usually +turned out. But from Lady Gwendolin Brook, in dull-orange +and evil orchids, he turned his head in disgust, +commenting dryly, that she was too modern for future +parties of his.</p> + +<p>“I always stood up for her, too, which is awkward. +But I never understood what she really was, till I saw +those devilish brown-spotted orchids,” and his eyes found +Mrs. Damerel and laughed. Shy and modest violets +covered Mrs. Damerel’s lilac satin, mistletoe having been +unprocurable. Mrs. Damerel—who shot, and hunted, +and smoked, and usually put her conversation into plain +terms! She might put six masks on her face when she +forgot not to stick out her self-asserting elbows. And +then he looked no more, for his glance had fallen on a +woman in white, standing alone at a little distance from +the others.</p> + +<p>It was Ravenel in a plain, ivory satin gown, covered +with great trails of white poppies with purplish-black +hearts, and dull-green velvet leaves.</p> + +<p>Over a mass of the pallid flowers of sleep and death +her face and head were tragic in the black shroudings +that he had somehow never thought looked sinister on +the other women.</p> + +<p>And not her mask alone sent a chill to Levallion’s heart. +Her eyes, black and anxious in their narrow eyeholes, +were fixed on Adrian Gordon, who for once stood beside +her, was whispering in her ear.</p> + +<p>And as he spoke her somber eyes flashed with a sudden +brightness, a joy they had never had for Levallion.</p> + +<p>“White poppies!” even at his own expense, Levallion +was cynical. “Well, I suppose I may be glad she does +not wear the roses of rapture and silence.” And he +cursed with some thoroughness himself for his suspicious +thoughts and Hester Murray for her lying tales, +even the innocent white poppies, because they meant +“oblivion”—the oblivion of a woman who says to herself +every morning that she has forgotten. As he walked +over to the duchess to congratulate her on her masterpiece +of decoration, he felt exceedingly cross and out +of sorts. But, being Lord Levallion, determined to +keep his eyes and ears utterly away from his wife +throughout the evening. Every girl has a school-day +love-affair; let her bury hers to-night under her white +poppies! To spite himself and prove Hester was wrong, +he had half a mind to ask Adrian to stay on indefinitely, +but even Levallion knew he could not do that.</p> + +<p>“My dear Levallion,” said the duchess, as the music—obtained +by a miracle of money and a special train!—struck +up, “pray don’t wriggle! You’re not sitting on +a pin, are you?”</p> + +<p>“It’s Damerel,” returned his lordship affectedly. +“Don’t look at the egregious fool! He’ll make you ill.”</p> + +<p>The duchess glanced at Mr. Damerel, who had turned +his dress clothes into a walking funeral with tuberoses, +even unto the seams of his trousers.</p> + +<p>“He’s very funny!” she said doubtfully.</p> + +<p>“He ought to be put into a hearse,” snapped Levallion. +“I wish I’d never read any poetry! I should not be +able to remember so many quotations about the idiocy +of man,” but the particular verse in his mind did not +apply to Mr. Damerel’s trousers, and he never glanced +at his wife as she passed him, though her white train +brushed his feet.</p> + +<p>Slowly the words were putting themselves together +in his mind, and he knew more than Ravenel did:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Now, those are poppies in her locks,</div> + <div class="verse indent3">White poppies she must wear;</div> + <div class="verse indent1">Must wear a mask to hide her face</div> + <div class="verse indent3">And the want graven there.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Ravenel had gone no further; Levallion’s vilely accurate +memory supplied two lines more:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Or—is the hunger, fed at length,</div> + <div class="verse indent1">Cast off the care?”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>And at the memory of the quick and sudden glory of +Ravenel’s glance at Adrian, the man could not but wince. +He looked up and saw her standing beside him.</p> + +<p>“Aren’t you going to dance with me?” she said. +“You can pretend you didn’t know it was I, you know!”</p> + +<p>Pretend, indeed, when he would know her in her +grave-clothes with a cloth over her face! He rose a +little stiffly, and put his arms around her waist. He +danced well for all his forty-seven years, and he knew +it; the two floated smoothly down the long gallery to the +tune of “Bid Me Good-by and Go,” and Adrian Gordon, +who had never danced with the girl he loved, had to +step back as she passed him in Levallion’s arms.</p> + +<p>“Oh,” said Ravenel, who had not seen him, “you’re +holding me too tight! And you’re out of breath, Levallion.”</p> + +<p>“I am forty-seven,” he returned, rather grimly, stopping +by the lower door. “Now run off and amuse yourself. +I must go and condole with Mrs. Damerel. Did +you know she wanted me to send seven miles after dark +for a bunch of mistletoe? In October!” and he deliberately, +and of a set purpose, never turned his eyes +toward his wife during the remainder of the evening, +and, when “kitchen lanciers” rent the air, retired, without +ostentation, to the library.</p> + +<p>It was dark, and he turned on the electric light irritably.</p> + +<p>“What did you do that for?” said the cross voice of +Sir Thomas. “Oh, I beg your pardon, Levallion! I +didn’t know it was you.” He rose from his knees at +the window.</p> + +<p>“Why are you praying instead of dancing?” inquired +Levallion, casting himself into a chair.</p> + +<p>“I was watching some one, Levallion. I wish you’d +put out the light and come here! I’m sure there’s some +one trying to get into the conservatory.”</p> + +<p>The light went out as he spoke. Sir Thomas was +much mistaken if Levallion did not swear; certainly he +groaned inwardly.</p> + +<p>At first he saw nothing as he strained his eyes into +the darkness, and then, against the soft, rose-colored +glow of the conservatory, between him and it, he was +conscious of a woman’s figure. Somehow that restless, +black shape touched Levallion’s nerves.</p> + +<p>“Stay here; don’t say anything to any one,” he said, +very low, as if the woman could hear him. “It must +be one of the servants, but I’ll just find out!”</p> + +<p>Whatever deviltry Hester had in mind should not be +done. He would, from a safe screen of orange-trees, +that would keep him from view of the people inside or +out of the greenhouse, watch his chance, and make her +understand that, though his lawyer had that day received +his orders, a telegram to-morrow could revoke +them. The woman was capable of anything—as he had +good cause to know—and suppose she frightened Ravenel! +Levallion was not long in getting to his covert. +But, though he stared through the leaves till his eyes +ached, he saw no more of that prowling wolf outside; +he was just going away, when two people sat down +on a secluded seat not a yard away from him and effectually +cut off his retreat. For as he hesitated for one +second, he heard his own name, in Ravenel’s voice.</p> + +<p>“I tell you Levallion had nothing to do with it,” she +was saying angrily. “If I thought he had, I’d want +to kill him—or I’d go with you.”</p> + +<p>“What did you want to ask me?” Adrian Gordon +made no direct answer.</p> + +<p>“Two things, though they don’t matter to me now,” +wearily. “I wanted to know why you said you were too +poor to marry me when you were Levallion’s heir—though +I didn’t know it.”</p> + +<p>Levallion stood paralyzed. Hester, then, had not lied—for +a wonder! He felt as if something hurt him unbearably, +but he did not even try to escape it. He wondered +dully what Gordon would say.</p> + +<p>“I can’t tell you, except that I,” lamely, “always +thought he would marry.”</p> + +<p>Levallion, white with relief, leaned against his orange-tub. +Though, of course, he had known Adrian would +never tell his wife the thing she asked.</p> + +<p>“Can’t you see,” said Ravenel fiercely, “that it’s the +only weak point in the whole thing. I know about the +letters. I know about the ring; but this hurts me because——”</p> + +<p>“Because it looks like a lie.” Perhaps Levallion was +no more sick at heart than Adrian. “Well, it is quite +true! I never counted on being Levallion’s heir,” though +if she had not been Levallion’s wife he might have given +a different answer.</p> + +<p>“I believe you—don’t be angry! I feel as if all the +world were a lie since—since Sylvia,” her voice, that began +passionately, broke off in dragging despair, “separated +you and me.”</p> + +<p>“What was the other thing?” said Adrian slowly. +“Nel, for God’s sake, take off that black hood and let +me see your face! I am going away to-morrow,” with +quiet and jealous pain. “Why have you got on white +poppies? The real ones always smell to me like laudanum—and +death!”</p> + +<p>“I’ve got them on because they mean oblivion,” she +answered bravely. “I’ve got to live my life, Adrian. +I made it for myself—and Levallion has been good to +me. The only way I can go on with it is to forget.”</p> + +<p>“What about me?” very low.</p> + +<p>“You can fight it out as well as I can,” bitterly. “I +can’t get rid of Levallion even to please you.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t want you to. Two wrongs,” hardly, “don’t +make a right.”</p> + +<p>In the silence Levallion felt curiously and impersonally +sorry for them; mad as it seems, liked Adrian better +than he ever had before.</p> + +<p>“Ask me the other question,” Adrian said quietly, +“and then you must go on. I don’t want you to be +missed, and found with me.”</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t matter,” not knowing that one day every +soul in the house-party would remember just how many +minutes she had been absent with Adrian Gordon. “Oh, +the question! I only wanted to know—though your +concerns are none of my business since Lady Annesley +sent you away from me—who the woman was who came +down with you that first day and asked for you that +night at the door.”</p> + +<p>“Asked for me?” in utter surprise that Levallion felt +was real. “Came down with me? Nel, be sensible; don’t +imagine rubbish! You know perfectly that what I +thought you had done to me had made me loathe all +women. I don’t think I’ve spoken to one since. Lady +Annesley sent me back your ring. No woman could +come and inquire for me.”</p> + +<p>“One did,” obstinately.</p> + +<p>“Then I don’t know who,” and Levallion was glad he +did not. “Nel, you distrusted me once with good reason +for a great thing; don’t fuss over rubbish now.”</p> + +<p>Levallion heard a rustle of silk. Had Ravenel moved? +But her voice came from exactly the same place.</p> + +<p>“I’ve got to go on till I die,” she said in a carrying +whisper. “Go away to-morrow, Adrian, or I can’t bear +it. The only thing you can do for me is never to see +me again.”</p> + +<p>“I know; don’t say it, will you?” roughly. “In old +times I’d have quietly poisoned Sylvia and killed Levallion, +but now I can only go away.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t speak like that about Levallion; he’s more to +be pitied than either of us. If he died to-morrow——”</p> + +<p>“If he died, would you marry me?” Gordon interrupted +sharply.</p> + +<p>“I’d cry myself sick. I wouldn’t look at you.” The +loyal, grateful voice fell till a listener farther away than +Levallion could not have heard it.</p> + +<p>“It’s time for me to go,” thought Levallion; her loyalty, +that was not love, hurt him unbearably. “Let her +say good-by to him, and then—we’ll see! If I were not +her husband I could make her love me best in a week!”</p> + +<p>Deftly, inch by inch, he made his way past their unconscious +backs, doing his best not to hear any more. +He was a dishonorable eavesdropper already, but he did +not care. He would not have any one else hear, though, +and that rustling of silks had been unpleasantly close.</p> + +<p>Whoever it had been was gone now. Levallion hurried +to the library to tell Tommy they had seen a kitchen-maid +watching the quality; hurried to the picture-gallery +to see who was missing besides Ravenel!</p> + +<p>“Gad, I wish it had been any one else!” he thought +wretchedly. For the only woman absent was Lady +Gwendolen Brook, of the orange gown and the evil orchids. +And that she entered at that moment did not +reassure him, for with her was Scarsdale, and Jimmy +Scarsdale believed in the honor of neither man nor +woman, and always said so—with examples.</p> + +<p>“Levallion, have you seen Ravenel?” cried the duchess. +“We’re waiting for her to go to supper.”</p> + +<p>The two latest arrivals exchanged glances.</p> + +<p>“Then don’t wait,” returned Levallion lazily, with his +best manner. “She’s with Adrian in the conservatory. +I don’t wonder you’re hungry, I am quite a wreck. I +interfered with my cook’s amours, and he quite cowed +me with his dinner to-night. Come, if you wish me to +live till morning,” and the duchess never knew that he +was inwardly cursing himself, fate, and two, if not three, +of his guests, as he took her down-stairs.</p> + +<p>“She’s had time enough,” Lady Gwendolen and Scarsdale +were close behind him, “to say everything by now. +She hasn’t been up here for an hour. I wonder——”</p> + +<p>Scarsdale hushed her by a look at Levallion’s back.</p> + +<p>It was a gorgeous joke on Levallion, but not good +enough to quarrel for. Besides, Lady Levallion was +meeting them as they reached the dining-room.</p> + +<p>Somehow every one stared at her as she let them pass +her at the door. She had taken off her mask and hood +like the others, and, under her crown of poppies, her +face was white, exhausted, beaten, the face of a woman +who has said good-by to love and youth.</p> + +<p>Lord Levallion helped the duchess to game pie, and +finished the quotation that had worried him all the evening:</p> + +<div class="poetry-container"> +<div class="poetry"> + <div class="stanza"> + <div class="verse indent0">“Lo, these be poppies—not for you,</div> + <div class="verse indent1">Cut down and spread.”</div> + </div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>He put his untasted supper of plain almond soup, +which was all he ever took at night, on the first floor +for Mr. Jacobs, who licked the plate scrupulously clean, +and immediately after was as thoroughly and scrupulously +sick. Sir Thomas hastily removed him as a footman +removed the remains, and, being a conscientious +master, dosed him till he was sick again, for there +was froth about his mouth, and Sir Thomas feared +fits.</p> + +<p>It was not a pretty incident, but luckily only Levallion +and Tommy beheld it—unless the outraged cook peering +through the pantry door saw the insulting treatment +Levallion gave his soup. No one else thought anything +about it.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">THE MOONLIGHT PICNIC.</p> + + +<p>Levallion, contrary to his custom, rose early the next +morning and repaired to Mrs. Murray’s house, meaning +to strike terror into her soul by threats of withdrawing +her allowance.</p> + +<p>There was no smoke coming from her chimneys, and, +as he was about to dismount and knock her up, an +untidy female emerged from the back premises and announced +that their late tenant had decamped without the +formality of giving notice. She had, to the station-master’s +knowledge, taken a ticket for London on the +preceding morning, and Levallion decided, with some +relief, that it must, after all, have been a kitchen-maid +whom he and Tommy had seen looking in the conservatory.</p> + +<p>He was not to be pleased on reaching home to find +he might have spared himself his journey, for the post +brought a letter from Hester, posted in London, in which +she implored his forgiveness for her foolish outspokenness, +thanked him for his bounty, and hoped “that one +so unworthy as she might never set eyes on him again.”</p> + +<p>“Too humble,” quoth his lordship, in the seclusion of +his drawing-room; “means something.”</p> + +<p>But the precise meaning did not occur to him. And +Sir Thomas’ bleak face at breakfast put Hester out of +his mind. Mr. Jacobs had nearly died in the night, was +even now in a parlous state. Sir Thomas was of the +opinion that he must have been poaching in the afternoon +and eaten poison laid down for marauding cats; +an opinion with which the vet. agreed, going so far +as to mention prussic acid.</p> + +<p>“It could not have been on my land, then,” Levallion +informed the gathering that surrounded unlucky Mr. +Jacobs. “I don’t allow poisoning.”</p> + +<p>“It’s prussic acid, my lord, wherever he got it,” the +vet. returned obstinately. “But he’s round the corner.</p> + +<p>“It’s likely that soup last night saved him.”</p> + +<p>“I dare say,” said Levallion indifferently, but he +stroked Mr. Jacobs, who licked his hand. All dogs worshiped +Levallion, just as every dog Mrs. Murray ever +owned mysteriously pined away and died under her +care.</p> + +<p>It was a gorgeous morning, clear and cold. Levallion +had no special desire to shoot, but anything was better +than staying at home as special policeman, under the +amused eyes of Gwendolen Brook. He was utterly astounded +as he joined the other men to find Adrian, on +a fat pony, was going with them.</p> + +<p>“Queer thing, honor!” he meditated. “A badly bred +man would have stayed at home. I’ll look out he doesn’t +overdo himself.”</p> + +<p>Afterward Adrian Gordon remembered that never had +Levallion been to him as he was that day. No mother +could have looked after a child better than Lord Levallion, +the man he had good reason to hate. And +Jimmy Scarsdale saw it—with a grin that was wasted. +Lady Levallion must be as deep as the sea.</p> + +<p>Lady Levallion looked anything but deep at that precise +moment. She had thankfully sent her flock of +women to a golf tournament ten miles away, and was +seated in the garden with Tommy and the recovering +Mr. Jacobs. Wrapped up in a big cloak she looked very +young, dreadfully tired. Sir Thomas saw it downheartedly, +and connected it with her silly and marked absence +with Captain Gordon the night before, a piece of +idiocy he was too angry to mention. Though he would +have been angrier still if he had known every word +she had said had been overheard by Lady Gwendolen—and +others.</p> + +<p>“Jacobs was poisoned,” he said moodily. “Just wait +till I find out where he got it.”</p> + +<p>“Miles off, I dare say. Levallion won’t allow it. +What’s he growling at?” for Mr. Jacobs stood bristling, +weakly ferocious.</p> + +<p>“That beastly cook,” with exasperation, “what on +earth do you keep him for? Jacobs, come here, Jacobs!” +But the dog had been through the garden, and Tommy +raced after him in time to see Monsieur Carrousel launch +an enormous stone that barely missed Mr. Jacobs’ head.</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas seized his dog by the collar.</p> + +<p>“What, the——” he began; and saw Ravenel standing +by him, out of breath, but looking inches taller than her +height.</p> + +<p>“May I ask,” she said to the bearded, elegant person +who was kind enough to cook his dinners, “why you +are pulling my rockery to pieces?” with a glance at the +fern-covered stone on the path.</p> + +<p>“The dog is dangerous. He threatened my life,” with +a majestic rage.</p> + +<p>“You are quite wrong, the dog is harmless. If you +are afraid of him, remember that you will be quite safe +in your kitchen. This—is my garden!” She turned +her back with a manner the duchess would have envied. +“Come, Tommy, and bring the dog.”</p> + +<p>“Why were you so down on him?” Tommy inquired +when they were out of ear-shot. “I really believe Jacobs +would have bitten him. Goodness knows why, but he +hates the man!”</p> + +<p>“So do I,” hotly. “There is not a seat in the garden +where I can go without finding him in the neighborhood. +I feel as if he had the evil eye on something; +he makes me shiver. Levallion’s going to send him +away.”</p> + +<p>“When’s Gordon going?” said Tommy abruptly.</p> + +<p>“To-morrow.” She grew scarlet. “Tommy,” she said +miserably, “don’t be horrid to me! I don’t deserve it. +I don’t mean even to speak to him before he goes.”</p> + +<p>“All right,” gruffly, but he slipped his arm in hers +as he had not done since he came. “I say, Ravenel, I’ll +be glad when the others go! They’re no good, except +the duchess.”</p> + +<p>“I can’t bear them,” with sudden viciousness. “I feel +all the time that if I were down in the world not one +of them would speak to me—even Lady Chayter. The +others are—well, her ladyship was a good imitation of +them!”</p> + +<p>“That reminds me,” he picked up Mr. Jacobs and +rolled him in Ravenel’s cloak. “I’m sure I saw the old +Umbrella yesterday, in the village.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, nonsense!”</p> + +<p>“I did, then; looking mighty out at elbows. What +do you bet she’ll not be up here, whining to you?”</p> + +<p>“She can whine,” deliberately, for whatever Lady +Annesley had done, it was sure to be no secret to the +Umbrella. “Hateful old wretch!”</p> + +<p>“Beats me how Levallion ever was a friend of Sylvia’s,” +observed Tommy idly. “By George, I get hot all +over when I think how I used to hate him.”</p> + +<p>“He’s kind,” in a stifled voice. “But oh, Tommy! +Sometimes I feel as if I should scream with the shut-up-ness +of being grand! The fine clothes and too much +to eat, and—it’s rather awful being Lady Levallion!”</p> + +<p>“It’s better than her ladyship,” the boy said dully. +“Brace up, Ravenel! Nobody in the world is downright +happy, I believe.”</p> + +<p>He lit one of Levallion’s cigarettes to avoid conversation, +and refused to see she was crying. When he +threw away the stump she was sitting quite motionless, +but she was dry-eyed.</p> + +<p>At dinner he looked at her covertly and wondered +why on earth she wore a black gown. It made her eyes +look dark and gave the red and white of her face an +unearthly clearness.</p> + +<p>“She looks awfully old, somehow,” the boy thought +uneasily. “I hope she doesn’t go and make another +break to-night. She looks——” even to himself he did +not say “desperate.” After all, he knew no reason why +she should be.</p> + +<p>But when he went into the drawing-room, after putting +Mr. Jacobs to bed, something caught at his heart. +Neither Ravenel nor Captain Gordon were there; and +all the women but the duchess had a furtive look.</p> + +<p>“Beasts, women!” Sir Thomas retreated as suddenly +as he had entered, determined to fetch his sister to her +senses, or die. But at an open window in the hall something +moving outside in the moonlight caught his eye, +and checked his hasty walk. He hung out recklessly, +and saw two figures disappear into the shrubbery, a +man and a woman in a black dress!</p> + +<p>“She’s mad,” said the boy, with something like a +sob in his throat. And turned round to see Ravenel +and Levallion looking at him.</p> + +<p>“I—I felt dizzy,” he stammered, scarcely believing his +eyes; for if this were Ravenel, who was that outside?</p> + +<p>“I don’t wonder,” said Levallion cheerfully. “In another +minute I’d have hauled you in by the legs. Come +and play blind man’s buff with the rest of the idiots I +have taken into my house.”</p> + +<p>“I think I’ll take a stroll. It’s hot in there. Where,” +in pure blank desperation, “is Gordon?”</p> + +<p>“Gone to bed. He starts at seven,” and just as if +he were sorry for the girl who stood by in silence, Lord +Levallion did not look at her as he followed her into +the lights, the scent, the circle of women—enlightened +by Lady Gwendolen—that made his own drawing-room +a place of torment.</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas, in his thin shoes and no cap, slipped unnoticed +out into the moonlight, pure curiosity his only +motive. The woman had looked like a lady, a lady’s +long dress and voluminous evening cloak had showed +plainly where she stood in the clear moonlight. The +night was bright as day, the air warm, almost balmy, as +if the moon had brought back summer when the sunset +chill was gone.</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe it was any old kitchen-maid last +night,” he thought, as he followed the path by which +that mysterious man and woman had vanished. “I +could see very well, but I believe it was well—whoever +it was now!” rather feebly. No one had told him of +the lady who had come to ask for Gordon, and he had +never chanced to pass that new bungalow that had given +Levallion such an unpleasant surprise. Against his will +there cropped up in his mind those old stories of Levallion; +if one-half of them were true, there must be +several women ready to eat their hearts by staring in +at his respectable married windows! Sir Thomas hoped +devoutly there was not going to be any fuss. The path +led him from the gardens into the park, across the grass +among the deer, and into a thick tangled wood. But +the boughs were leafless, and the moon showed him that +the path went on still, a dark thread between the dead +bracken under the crowding trees. It wound on and +on, and the night silence of the wood somehow quieted +Tommy Annesley. Through the arching boughs overhead +he could see the cloudless indigo sky; the moon +peeped at him in uncanny suddenness from different directions +as the path twisted. He stepped more and +more cautiously, as if the noise of a breaking twig +under his feet would have been a crime in the stirless +quiet of the wood.</p> + +<p>“This is rot,” he thought, stopping once. “No one +can be here,” but something drove him on again even +while he called himself a fool. The curious awe that +was on him deepened till, without knowing it, he was +moving noiseless as a midnight thief walking a strange +road. With a queer thrill he pulled up standing; slipped +before the moon caught the telltale black and white +of his clothes in the surrounding dimness, behind the +trunk of a great girtled oak. The path had stopped, +as suddenly as the trees and undergrowth it ran through. +Before him was a clear, circular space, covered with +wan, short grass, and drifts of brown, dead leaves the +moon made fantastic. In the middle of it stood one +huge oak-tree, where clusters of dead leaves still hung +like banners against the moon on the branches that +stretched over a solitary flat rock; dark, high, like an +altar.</p> + +<p>“What on earth,” thought Sir Thomas, peering cautiously. +His bewilderment could not put itself into +words.</p> + +<p>The oak-tree was between him and the moon. If +there was any one beside it, they were blotted out against +its thick bulk of darkness. But what was that clear, +steady glitter on the rock? A crystal, starry glitter +that in one spot turned to worn gold?</p> + +<p>A quick rustling behind him made him turn with apprehensive +annoyance. No one likes to be caught inspecting +the world from behind a tree. But the rustling +was Mr. Jacobs.</p> + +<p>“Lie down!” whispered Sir Thomas savagely. “What +silly fool let you out?” He grabbed the humble Jacobs—who +had been vastly proud of escaping from bed and +scenting him out—in his arms, that he might not bark; +and suddenly felt that he was glad the dog had come. +For the place was ghostly.</p> + +<p>“It’s impossible, though, to lug him and edge round a +bit nearer!” he thought, deeply interested in that glitter +which was no business of his. “By George!”</p> + +<p>A man had come from against the tree, hoisted himself +rather clumsily on the breast-high rock, and seized +the golden shining point that had taken Sir Thomas’ +eye. A familiar pop, and a quick gurgling came through +the quiet air; Tommy nearly dropped Mr. Jacobs as he +grabbed his jaws together to stop a bark.</p> + +<p>“Champagne! a—well, I’m blowed! I’ve come all the +way out here to gaze on a moonlight picnic. Lord knows +who they are!” as a woman swung herself lightly, boyishly, +beside the man and stretched her hand out for +the glass he held.</p> + +<p>The two were whispering—and oh! if Tommy Annesley +could only have heard those muffled voices!—presently +the man laughed, and a woman’s laugh answered +him; shrill, hysterical, strained; full of that fierce madness +that would change the sound of the laugh of the +sister you grew up with, and make it unrecognizable. +The incongruous horror that was in that laugh caught +Tommy’s nerves, slacked his grip of Jacobs. He had +never dreamed any woman’s laugh could sound like the +howl of a wild beast.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jacobs felt he could not bear it. He gave a low, +shivery growl, and before Sir Thomas knew it, was on +the ground, running like a wiry white devil straight to +that picnic-party that sat unawares. He ran quick—that +was what froze Tommy’s voice in his throat. If +he had barked it would not have mattered what he +rushed at, but a silent Jacobs was another thing, as dogs +and cats knew.</p> + +<p>Before Sir Thomas could get clear of his hiding-place, +the need was over. Jacobs had flown straight at the +man’s legs, where they hung over the rock, but with +a wild leap his prey had sprung to the top of the +mighty slab, where he stood upright, never making +the slightest motion toward the woman beside him, +whose long cloak had hung over his menaced legs. Tommy +heard Jacobs fall back heavily as he missed his +spring; saw him pick himself up, trot deliberately back to +his master, slowly and with puzzled growling, as of a +dog who had been deceived.</p> + +<p>The boy stooped and took something from the dog’s +shut jaws. He had seized the woman’s cloak.</p> + +<p>“Not her, or she’d have yelled!” he thought with relief. +And then as the man moved, a living silhouette +against the cold moonshine, Sir Thomas Annesley knew +him.</p> + +<p>“I wonder,” he thought, sick and shaken, “if the +moon’s made me crazy?” He made a step toward the +pair on the rock—and oh! if he had only gone close +to them—and then drew back. It was no business of +his. But the thing was so unpleasant that he held his +tongue about it.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">THE DARK GLASS.</p> + + +<p>“Adrian’s gone,” said Lady Levallion to herself as +she woke the next morning. She knew she ought to +be glad of it, thankful that he was no longer in Levallion’s +house; for which reason, probably, she dragged +herself out of bed and thought with blank loathing of the +empty day before her; of the women who must be +amused; of Levallion, who must not see she missed any +one.</p> + +<p>“I might as well pretend not to care if Tommy died!” +she said bitterly. “For it’s just the same. If I know +anything about Adrian, he will never see me again, of +his own accord.”</p> + +<p>There was a letter on the plate at breakfast, and +for one-half second she thought he might have written +a bare half-dozen words of farewell to the woman he +had meant to live and die with. But the common envelope, +the scrawled address, undeceived her. It was +a begging letter, and she opened it listlessly, and hardly +noticed some scraps of torn pasteboard that fell out of +it. But as she read the soiled half-sheet of common +writing, Gwendolen Brook nudged Colonel Scarsdale. +Lady Levallion’s face was a dull crimson from forehead +to chin.</p> + +<p>Even Levallion noticed it, as she stuffed the letter into +her pocket and gathered up those fallen bits of pasteboard. +Noticed, too, that the very instant breakfast +was over, she went to her own sitting-room, scarcely +waiting to hear the plans for the day. Yet it was not +the letter that had brought the blood to her face. That +was from the Umbrella, as Tommy had prophesied; and +the news in it was late for the market, except that it +gave chapter and verse of what Ravenel had only +guessed at.</p> + +<p>Lady Annesley had turned Adams out, she had lost +her savings, was at a farmhouse half a mile off, with +no money and—she thought—dying. Would Miss Ravenel +come to her, as she could not die with her wickedness +on her mind? It was she who had warned Lady +Annesley of that wild dream of marriage with Adrian +Gordon, she who had shown him Ravenel’s torn Sunday +frock on the day of the duchess’ party, and said +that as Miss Annesley could not go to the fête for want +of a dress, she had gone to the country town with Sir +Thomas.</p> + +<p>“This is the card Captain Gordon left for you the +day you was out,” it wound up. “I send it so you may +see it is true. Her ladyship cut his ring off your neck +that day you know of, and gave me five pounds to post +it to him. I kept the torn card just to have something +to hold over her. But she didn’t care, and she turned +me off. I’m a dying woman, I feel it. They’ll let me +die here; if you’ll come over and say you know me—and, +oh, Miss Ravenel, do come and say you forgive me! +For I saw you at your wedding, and I wake up at nights +and see your face, which was like a dead person’s. I +don’t want money, the parish can bury me, only you +to say you did not mind about Captain Gordon.”</p> + +<p>“I won’t go,” thought Ravenel, laying down the +letter.</p> + +<p>“She always hated me. She’s only doing this to pay +Sylvia out. I couldn’t see her. I won’t let any one tell +me things—or pity me,” but even as she said it she +knew she would go. She was never a good hater, and +the woman was dying—or thought so.</p> + +<p>She laid the scraps of card on the table and pieced +them together. There was one bit gone. The Umbrella +must have left it in her ladyship’s rubbish-basket. But +she made out the penciled pitifully guarded scrawl, in +spite of the missing corner.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Dear Miss Annesley”—it ran—“how have I missed +you? Didn’t you get my letter? +I sail to-morrow, but +after mess. Please.”</p> +</div> + +<p>“Forgive her!” said Ravenel, making sense well +enough, for she knew the missing words must have been, +“I’ll come back to-night” and “meet me,” because of +Adrian’s story of his useless waiting in the garden. “I +can’t forgive her. I don’t believe I ever forgave anything +in all my life, or forgot, either. I’ll send her +money, but I never want to see her as long as I live.”</p> + +<p>A sound at the door startled her into saying, “Come +in” before she swept the patched card off the table. It +was only Levallion, but his face grew gray as he saw +her put her arm sharply over the torn card, the scrawled +letter. Something that had been on his lips died there, +and there flashed up in his mind, like an instantaneous +photograph, the memory of Adrian falling in a dead +faint under the trees, and the little inarticulate, dreadful +cry with which Ravenel had sprung toward him.</p> + +<p>“Are you coming out?” he said. “They are waiting +for you,” and he went away without waiting for an answer.</p> + +<p>Her back had been to the door. She had not seen his +face, nor could she dream that outside in the lonely +passage he stood for one instant, and hid his worn face +in his hands. The next second he threw into a jar of +flowers a scrap of penciled card Lady Gwendolen had +said sweetly was his wife’s; “Lady Levallion had dropped +it.”</p> + +<p>“It’s not very valuable,” Levallion had answered, +glancing at the scrap, and taking in both sides of it +with the quickness habitual to him. But now, when he +had seen her poring over some fragments exactly like it, +he cursed his quick eyes and Lady Gwendolen. For on +one side of the quarter-card was “Gordon—Hussars.” +On the other, “I’ll come back to-night. Meet me. ‘A. +G.’” No wonder Ravenel had turned red and torn it +up.</p> + +<p>“Quid pro quo!” said Lord Levallion slowly. “It’s +my turn now, I suppose, having taken a wife instead of +borrowing one. But I don’t think there’ll be any meeting!” +He straightened himself, wearily, and went out +shooting as if his heart was not like lead. Somehow, +he had lacked either courage or inclination to tell Ravenel +what he knew. And she never dreamed he would +have listened to the silly, childish story that meant nothing +now, except to her and Adrian.</p> + +<p>She sent some money to Adams, with a carefully written +note to the effect that she knew of nothing she had +to forgive, since nothing Lady Annesley or her maid +had done had caused her any harm. It was a lie, of +course, but there was nothing else Levallion’s wife could +say. She breathed freer when it was gone.</p> + +<p>But when the shooting-party came home, Levallion’s +face somehow worried her. All the softness was wiped +off it, and he talked as the old Levallion had been wont +to, not the new. She waited for him in her dressing-room +till the gong went for dinner, but he never came. +And when he passed her in the drawing-room on his +way to give his arm to the duchess, she stopped +him.</p> + +<p>“Levallion,” she whispered, her hand on his arm, +“what’s the matter? Aren’t you well?”</p> + +<p>“Perfectly, thank you,” he said quietly, but he never +looked at her. A sudden gust of wicked temper shook +him like a leaf; if they had been alone he would have +broken out in questions that would have ended in relief; +but here before every one made him shake off her hand +as if it had been a snake—to wish the next second that he +had kissed her before the whole room.</p> + +<p>For as he looked straight before him he met Lady +Gwendolen’s amused, insolent eyes, and knew that all +he knew she knew also; and his knowledge of it besides. +His lordship went into dinner with the cheerful +conviction that at forty-seven he had made a fool of +himself—before the people! And it did not soften his +heart to his wife.</p> + +<p>A curious second light, born of strained nerves, made +him slip away from the men some ten minutes after +the women had left the dining-room. And crossing the +hall was what he had expected, Ravenel in a hat and +cloak, hurrying to a side door. Levallion’s heart turned +over.</p> + +<p>“Where are you going?” he said very quietly. But +his hand that caught her arm was not gentle.</p> + +<p>“To—out—the man’s waiting——” she gasped, utterly +terrified. “Levallion, don’t look at me like that! It’s a +poor woman who sent for me this morning, and I +wouldn’t go. She’s sent again to-day; she isn’t dying, +but she must see me. Thought I could go and be back +before you came out of the dining-room. The woman +knows me, she used to be Lady Annesley’s maid. Look!” +she held out a scrawled letter.</p> + +<p>But no one knew better than Levallion that any letter +might mean anything. He flickered it to the ground +contemptuously.</p> + +<p>“You have excellent reason to go and see your stepmother’s +maid,” he said, careless that he betrayed ill-gotten +knowledge. “But I fancy not to-night. You +can drive over in the morning. Go back; take off those +things; try and remember that if I was blind other people +are not.” His low, furious voice carried farther than +he knew, to where, on the turn of the staircase, Lady +Gwendolen Brook stood breathless with laughter. Having +seen the note delivered which sent her hostess from +the drawing-room, it had been a delightful way of passing +time to follow her. But she had not anticipated anything +so amusing as this.</p> + +<p>“Levallion,” said Ravenel, “you’ve no right to speak +to me like this!” She threw off her cloak and hat, and in +all her white satins faced him paler than he. “Now, if +the people you’re afraid of do come,” she whispered contemptuously, +“they won’t see anything to amuse them. +But listen to me you shall. Even though I don’t know +what you are suspecting. Read those.” With a gesture +that was superb, she stooped for the letter he had +dropped, put it and another into his hand; “then go +outside and speak to the boy who’s waiting to take me +to the farmhouse, and then tell me, if you like, what +you are thinking about me.”</p> + +<p>“As you like.” He shrugged his shoulders, having +in his day written many a letter that meant other things +than were in it. But as he read, his face changed. +There was nothing in those letters but their face +value.</p> + +<p>“Ravenel,” in the stillness she heard the men rising +in the dining-room, heard a quick rustle of silk on the +stairs, and moved sharply round a corner so that she +was out of sight. But Levallion was quicker. They +stood now in the porch of the side door, as much alone +as in Sahara, and she saw in the dim light that his hard +mouth trembled.</p> + +<p>“I have behaved abominably,” he said with a humiliation +that sat ill on him. “I—I found half a card this +morning; and I heard something you said to Adrian the +other night. I thought——”</p> + +<p>“Here’s the rest of it. It was six months ago I was +to meet Adrian,” she answered simply, for she knew +what must have been on the card. “Did you think it was +to-night? That I meant to meet another man, and steal +out of your house to do it?”</p> + +<p>“I feel like <i>Othello</i>, whom I always considered an +egregious ass!” said Levallion slowly. “You see, it was +just what I should have done, in Gordon’s shoes.” He +slipped card and letter into his pocket.</p> + +<p>To Ravenel’s own surprise, the tears came to her eyes.</p> + +<p>“You wouldn’t,” she cried hotly. “Never! Why do +you lie about yourself? You know nothing would make +you do a thing like that.”</p> + +<p>“Nor you, either.” She had never heard his voice so +slow, so gentle. “I was a fool to doubt you. But I +heard—the other night in the conservatory. I thought +you cared still; that this—that when I cared at last, fate +was having its revenge on me. But I know better now!” +Before she could stop him he stooped and kissed the hem +of her gown.</p> + +<p>“Don’t,” she gasped. “I’ve been wicked. I thought at +first when I found out—for I never found out till I saw +the ring they cut off his finger—and heard how he got +it—that you had known all Sylvia did.”</p> + +<p>“My poor little child,” he said soberly. And then wistfully: +“You’ll be as happy as you can, won’t you? I—I +try, you know.”</p> + +<p>“I’m happy, and I’ll be happier,” she answered bravely. +“I—you know I like you, Levallion?”</p> + +<p>For sole answer he held her hand, hard. Hope waked +in him somehow, loyalty and liking were a good half +the battle.</p> + +<p>“We must go back,” he said. “You forgive me? I +was brutal, but it cut, you know,” simply.</p> + +<p>Of her own accord Lady Levallion leaned forward +and kissed his cheek; afterward she was glad.</p> + +<p>“What does this thing mean?” he asked, with a look +at one of the letters. “She says she isn’t dying, but that +she thought to say so might hurry you. What is it that +you must know to-night, or it will be too late?”</p> + +<p>“It can’t be anything! All she can tell me is dead +and gone,” said Ravenel, with shame. “Oh, Levallion! +I hate your knowing how wicked I was, to worry you—and +all that.”</p> + +<p>“Hush, hush!” almost roughly. “Don’t talk like that. +Look here, I’ll tell you what we’ll do! We’ll go over to +the farm when the others have gone to bed. The hour +won’t matter if they’re sitting up with her. I’ll tell the +boy, go, go now.”</p> + +<p>There was a kind of awkward hush when Lord and +Lady Levallion entered the drawing-room. The duchess +had gone away that day, and her absence had loosened +Lady Gwendolen’s tongue. Lord Chayter rushed into +the breach.</p> + +<p>“Where’s that stuff you were talking of the other day?” +he asked Levallion. “You said it cured headaches, and +I’ve a most infernal one.”</p> + +<p>“I said it enlivened the soul, if you had one,” dryly. +“It isn’t a medicine. It’s a liqueur, Eau de Vie Magique. +But I think I drank it all. I don’t know where it is.”</p> + +<p>“In your dressing-room,” said Ravenel promptly. “I’ll +get it.” There was something in the women’s faces +that troubled her, something covert in their eyes that she +was glad to escape from.</p> + +<p>Mr. Jacobs arose hastily from a secluded corner and +followed her out; and as he lumbered affably beside her +she never dreamed that her life hung on whether he +came with her or not.</p> + +<p>Five minutes later she was back; panting, white, with +startled eyes, a squat bottle in her hand.</p> + +<p>“Have you seen a ghost?” said Levallion, from where +he stood by the liqueur-stand.</p> + +<p>“No!” she gasped—and she looked as if she had seen +murder!</p> + +<p>“Jacobs frightened me—dreadfully! He—I think there +must have been a cat.” As she held the bottle out to him +it shook in her hand.</p> + +<p>“It’s a dead cat, then,” said Tommy. He rose and went +to see where Jacobs had gone to, but no one took any +notice of his movements.</p> + +<p>“I shall have to dose you!” said Levallion lightly. +“Your nerves are all off. There’s very little here. Chayter, +I’d thought there was more. And it looks muddy!” +He poured it out and glanced at it. Instead of being +clearly green it was a little clouded.</p> + +<p>“Seems so, somehow!” Levallion sniffed it suspiciously.</p> + +<p>“Smells of almonds.” He raised the glass to his lips +and tasted it, giving the bottle to Ravenel.</p> + +<p>“Levallion!” Her shriek terrified them, born of unreasoning +terror as it was. “Put it down, don’t touch it!” +Wildly, frantically, she tried to snatch the glass, but she +was too late.</p> + +<p>Levallion had mechanically swallowed the strangely +flavored mouthful. He turned to her, smiling. “It’s +quite spoiled. You’ve——”</p> + +<p>The empty bottle fell from her hand, crashed to atoms +on the floor.</p> + +<p>“Levallion,” she screamed, “speak to me!”</p> + +<p>He swayed toward her, his handsome face convulsed; +crashed, like a log, to the floor. As she sprang to him +he struggled, his teeth clenched.</p> + +<p>“We ought to have gone!” he gasped. “Ravenel—she’s +been—too much for me!”</p> + +<p>But when she would have lifted his head it dropped +lifeless on her breast.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">ALONE WITH THE DEAD.</p> + + +<p>“He’s poisoned; he’s dying!”</p> + +<p>It was many a day before any one in that room forgot +the sound of Lady Levallion’s voice. She crouched on +the floor, holding Levallion as she had never done, and +his face was ghastly against her white satin gown.</p> + +<p>“Hush!” cried Chayter roughly. “For God’s sake, +Scarsdale, send some one for a doctor!” but some one +had gone already.</p> + +<p>In the horrid silence that had fallen on the room each +rattling breath Levallion drew sounded harder than the +last. All the men were round him, there was a bustle +of servants, a calling for useless remedies; but toward +their hostess not one woman stirred. It was sinister, +ominous, to see them crowded together in their smart +gowns; a wide space between them and the overthrown +liqueur-stand, and Ravenel huddled on the floor with a +dying man in her arms. So it was that Doctor Houghton +saw them, when at last he came. The bare floor, the +rucked-up rugs, the litter of broken glass and silver +round Lady Levallion—white as her gown, against which +Levallion’s black clothes stood out in horrible limpness; +and behind them and the kneeling men about them, +that wall of silks and satins, of inimical women’s faces. +Even as he stooped and touched Levallion’s hand that +picture stamped itself on Houghton’s brain.</p> + +<p>“They think she did it,” he thought, like lightning, as +he wiped the froth from the stiff lips.</p> + +<p>“Clear the room!” he said. “Send the ladies away. +No, not you!” as Ravenel only clutched Levallion more +fiercely. But when they were gone he tried none of the +remedies he had brought with him. Adrian Gordon, +Lord Levallion, had been dead this half-hour past. Very +gently Houghton laid the handsome, dark head back on +Lady Levallion’s knees; and no one, she least of all, saw +it was the living face, and not the dead, that he looked +at so long and steadily.</p> + +<p>“They hate her, and, if I’m not careful, she’ll be +hanged because a handful of women don’t like her,” he +thought, after that long look at the girl Levallion had +married. It was part of his trade to read faces. This +one, if he knew anything, was innocent. For no guilty +woman would ever have been utterly unconscious of self +as this girl was; or could have sat clinging to the dead +man as did she.</p> + +<p>“If she’d done it, she’d be crying on a sofa,” he was +thinking, even while he listened to Lord Chayter’s story +of what had happened. “Or if she had nerve enough +to touch him her face would show the strain. She’d +bare her lower teeth like they all do when they’re guilty.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t whisper, Lord Chayter,” she said sharply. “You +can’t wake him! Doctor Houghton, it was I brought him +the bottle—and owed him everything! He was kind—to +me.”</p> + +<p>Every man in the room but Houghton knew that +she and Levallion had quarreled that very night; not one +of them knew how they had made it up again. But +at the dreary, tearless voice, perhaps, only Jimmy Scarsdale +did not feel a lump in his throat.</p> + +<p>“Don’t talk,” said Houghton gently. “Never mind +us. You could not help what was in the bottle.”</p> + +<p>“I—Jacobs frightened me,” she said vaguely. “But, +oh! why don’t you do something?”</p> + +<p>She looked up, caught Houghton’s eyes, and felt frantically +at Levallion’s heart, that was stone cold.</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t beat!” she cried, like a frightened child. +“I can’t feel it. Levallion!” the cry rang out as it has +done since the ages of ages; the useless, desperate call +of the living to the dead.</p> + +<p>“Dear Lady Levallion,” said Houghton softly, “he +can’t hear you! I got here too late.”</p> + +<p>She looked at him as if she were dazed.</p> + +<p>“Too late,” she said; “it’s all too late.” She swayed +forward till her face lay on the Levallion’s breast that +could shelter her no longer.</p> + +<p>“Let her lie!” said Houghton savagely. “It’s the only +kindness we can do her. Good God, are there no women +in this house to come to her, that she is left to men? +To me, who barely knows her?”</p> + +<p>“You sent the women away,” said Scarsdale slowly.</p> + +<p>“And if one of them had cared for her I might have +ordered her out till I was black in the face.” But he +dared not say it aloud. He was tall, young, and strong; +and he lifted Lady Levallion in his arms as if she had +been a child. But, though he rang and rang her bedroom-bell, +it was minutes before any one answered it. But +the strong face of the Frenchwoman who came at last +pleased him, also the little cry with which she ran to her +mistress.</p> + +<p>“Your master’s dead,” he said bluntly, “and your mistress +has fainted. Help me to get her to bed. Where’s +Sir Thomas?” for it had suddenly come over him that +Lady Levallion’s brother was nowhere to be seen.</p> + +<p>“He ran out after his dog that came raging through +the servants’ hall a long time ago. He knew nothing.”</p> + +<p>With quick fingers she was loosening Lady Levallion’s +gown. “Oh, Monsieur Houghton, I did go to the drawing-room +door to help my lady, but Lady Chayter say to +me you would not let me in. So I run out of doors to +see if Sir Thomas is anywhere, and he is not.”</p> + +<p>“Don’t try to rouse her too much,” Houghton returned, +as if he were thinking of something else. “I’ll give her +something to make her sleep, by and by.”</p> + +<p>He strolled into the next room as though to give +Celeste time to put her mistress into bed, but he did not +stay there. It was Lady Levallion’s dressing-room, and +opened, as he knew, into a passage that led to her husband’s. +Doctor Houghton went in quietly, perhaps to +see if it was there they were bringing Levallion. But +the room was empty.</p> + +<p>Levallion’s dressing-gown that he would never wear +again lay waiting for him, his half-read novel was on the +table by his bed; the trivial comforts of the room were +dreadful to the man who had been Levallion’s friend, perhaps +his only real one, except the Duchess of Avonmore. +Houghton looked deliberately round the room.</p> + +<p>There, over the bookcase, was the shelf from which +Lady Levallion must have taken the bottle—that bottle +which lay in flinders down-stairs, that not the cleverest +detective on earth could say had been the one Levallion +owned or not. There were other bottles left, chiefly +curios in the way of drinks which Levallion had been too +wise to try. Doctor Houghton did not look at them, did +not touch anything. He scarcely knew why he had +come there, except that there might be something that +would tell a tale. And there was not one earthly thing.</p> + +<p>“There’s no doubt that he was poisoned, and with +some preparation of prussic acid,” he thought, staring +idly before him. “And he did not do it himself, for there +never was a man who loved life better than he. And +he loved his wife, if ever I saw devotion in a human +being. Now what, I wonder, made those women behave +like that to her to-night, just as if they knew something +to her discredit! I’ll lay odds,” grimly, “that when five +women get together against one, there’s nothing they +don’t think they know about her, especially when her +looks beat them all. And every one of those women behaved +inhumanly to-night.” He pursed his clean-shaven +lips as he tried to remember just on what terms Lady +Levallion had been with her husband, and the only out-of-the-way +thing that came to his mind was the night a +strange woman had come to the door, and Lady Levallion +had looked inwardly furious.</p> + +<p>“She probably had good reason to, if any kind friend +had aired poor Levallion’s past to her,” he thought, with +wrong-headed shrewdness. “Anyhow, I’m going to do +my best for her till I find out she’s guilty. If Levallion +were here,” with incongruous reasoning, “he’d like me to. +I believe,” tenderly, “he would have given even the +devil fair play. At any rate, he wouldn’t want his wife’s +name dragged in the dust, and it sha’n’t be, if I can help +it. Though, perhaps, I’m a fool with my foregone conclusions. +No one’s breathed a word against her.” And +yet he had known the second he entered the drawing-room +that every soul in it thought Lady Levallion had +murdered her husband.</p> + +<p>“I don’t believe it was any one in the house who did +it,” the man said to himself, because he was cross-grained +to begin with, and had been rubbed the wrong +way. “I’ll go and find Sir Thomas. He ought to be with +his sister instead of chasing dogs,” and he turned the +handle of the closed door that led into the corridor, instead +of going back the way he had come. The door +stuck, and he gave it a vicious jerk. As it swung forward +something dark fell soundlessly on the floor, and +the man’s quick eye saw it. With it on the palm of his +hand he moved close to the electric light, and saw what +it was. A tiny triangular rag of tweed, thin, rather +worn, a small, irregular check of fawn and brown, with +a red thread in it.</p> + +<p>“Now, where,” said Houghton to himself, “have I seen +the trousers that came out of?” And the cloth was so +familiar that it struck him it must have come from Levallion’s +own wardrobe.</p> + +<p>“Well, the only thing that looks like a clue is disposed +of!” he thought, shrugging his shoulders. But he put +the little rag carefully away in a pocketbook. It seemed +hopeless to prove when and how it had caught in the +door, but less things than that rag had saved women’s +lives.</p> + +<p>He hurried down-stairs at a sound of bustle in the hall. +There were boxes and rug-straps being piled there, and it +may be forgiven Doctor Houghton if he thought there +might be some one among the house-party who could +not get away fast enough.</p> + +<p>“A band of robbers could not be in a greater hurry!” +he thought bitterly. And then his face lit up.</p> + +<p>Some one inside the drawing-room door threw it open. +A voice Houghton knew said authoritatively:</p> + +<p>“What’s this, gentlemen? Surely you understand no +one and no luggage,” emphatically, “is to leave this house +till I hold my inquest.”</p> + +<p>It was Doctor Aston, the coroner. But before Houghton +could move toward him a hand caught his arm.</p> + +<p>“I went for him.” Sir Thomas Annesley looked fifty +years old. “Was it right?”</p> + +<p>Houghton nodded. But it came over him suddenly +that if there were things he did not know the coming of +the coroner would be the beginning of the end for Lady +Levallion.</p> + +<p>“Go to your sister,” he said gently. “But, stop! +What’s this about your dog frightening her, and——”</p> + +<p>“Nothing,” said Tommy drearily. “He went up with +her, and I suppose he saw a cat or something. I found +him raising Cain in the kitchen, and some one opened +the door and let him out. I ran after him, but I lost him. +When I came back they said you were with Ravenel, +and I thought I’d get the coroner. How on earth, Doctor +Houghton, did that bottle get poisoned? Levallion +gave me some of it only a little before dinner.”</p> + +<p>Houghton could only shake his head.</p> + +<p>Half a mile off the only soul who would have told him +sat up on the death-bed that till now she had only half-believed +in.</p> + +<p>“Get Miss Ravenel,” she cried clearly, loudly. “Get +her, or they’ll hang her.”</p> + +<p>“Hush, my poor soul!” said the farmer’s wife pitifully.</p> + +<p>“Lady Levallion, then!” the Umbrella clutched at the +air as if to grasp the life that was leaving her.</p> + +<p>“I want to tell—I——” She turned suddenly rigid, a +dreadful stiff figure, only its eyes alive.</p> + +<p>“Tell her they’ll murder him! they——”</p> + +<p>She fell forward on the bed.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">A DEAD MAN’S SWEETHEART.</p> + + +<p>“Levallion’s drawing-room!” said Houghton to himself +bitterly. “Inside his own house, that fools say is a man’s +safest place.”</p> + +<p>For he and his assistant had but now finished a hateful +task, to Levallion’s friend, and if there was doubt about +who had killed Levallion, there was none about the +poison that had done it.</p> + +<p>“There was enough prussic acid in his stomach to +kill a horse, let alone a man!” Houghton thought, as his +assistant departed with his ghastly paraphernalia. “And +God knows what form it was given in, perhaps, but I +don’t.”</p> + +<p>With his own hands he made Levallion’s body ready +for his grave, but not even Houghton’s skill could cross +the dead hands on the breast. He lay as death had +found him, with his arms outstretched to the woman he +loved. Houghton drew the sheet up to the chin, and +looked at the dead man’s face.</p> + +<p>Handsome, in a hard-bitter way, Levallion had always +been. Dead, the unearthly beauty of his face caught +Houghton’s breath.</p> + +<p>Every saturnine line, every sardonic curve, had been +wiped off it. Over the hard eyes the white lids were +gentle; the lips that had been weary so many a day +under the dark mustache were set in ineffable peace. +For all the majesty of that still, set face, there was a +strange youth in it, as though death had brought him +gently to a very far land, where there were neither the +lies nor the shams he had scorned—and the joy of it was +written on the dead man’s face.</p> + +<p>“That was Levallion!” said Houghton involuntarily. +Perhaps no one but he had known that, until six months +ago, when Ravenel came into it, Adrian Gordon, Lord +Levallion, had been weary of his life. Neither goodness, +nor fair dealing, nor common chastity had the man ever +met. Small wonder that his tongue was keen as his eyes, +or that cynicism was written on the corners of his lips.</p> + +<p>“The real Levallion, who had to die just as he cared +to live. Well, God give his murderer justice!”</p> + +<p>He did not know he spoke aloud, and he wheeled as +some one answered him.</p> + +<p>“There’s no justice,” said a voice that made his blood +stop in him, “or I’d be there, and not he.”</p> + +<p>Lady Levallion, all dressed as if it were day instead +of seven o’clock in the morning, stood at his elbow.</p> + +<p>“I beg your pardon!” said Houghton stupidly. For his +life he could have made her no more sensible answer.</p> + +<p>“I married him. I didn’t love him——”</p> + +<p>If he had not seen her speak he would never have +known it was Lady Levallion’s voice.</p> + +<p>“I——”</p> + +<p>He looked at her sharply. Every bit of color was gone +from her face. She was grayer than the dead man.</p> + +<p>“Go and rest. You’re doing no good here,” he said +sharply, as people speak to hysterical patients. But there +was no hysteria in her narrowed eyes.</p> + +<p>“How can I rest? It’s all my fault,” she said slowly.</p> + +<p>“Why do you say that? It’s nonsense.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know why, but I feel—no, no! I don’t mean +it!”</p> + +<p>She had broken off with terror in her voice, and for +the first time Houghton doubted her. Yet a woman in +grief will say anything. And in grief she was, for, as +if she were alone, she fell on her knees by Levallion.</p> + +<p>“I’d have died for you a hundred times, rather than +this!” she was whispering in the ears that could not +hear. “If you could only know that, I could bear it.”</p> + +<p>Houghton turned away sharply to the door, so that no +one else should see what was between two people—the +living and the dead. The awful incongruity of the whole +thing came over him. The man’s own drawing-room, all +flowers and silk hangings and carved ivory, where, instead +of rose-colored lamps, four unshaded candles +burned at the head and foot of the couch where Levallion +lay covered with a white sheet, where Lady Levallion +knelt motionless in a plain serge gown that—or, perhaps, +it was not the gown—made her ghastly.</p> + +<p>“What am I to do?” she was muttering. “Levallion, +what am I to do?”</p> + +<p>With a strange passion she kissed his lips, his shut +eyes.</p> + +<p>“You believed in me, you trusted me,” she said, very +low, but in the silent room the whisper carried. “Oh, +wherever you are, trust me still! Even if I—hold my +tongue.”</p> + +<p>Doctor Houghton felt suddenly and physically sick. +Then he remembered he had no right to have listened. +No right to judge any woman who was mad with grief, +as this one was. He went to her, to try and get her +away, and something in her attitude made the suspicion +in him die down again. Lady Levallion was crouched +close to the dead man’s breast, pressed to him as a child +in trouble to its mother. Whatever she meant to be +silent about it was not any guilt of her own. For, as if it +were her only refuge, she was clutching Levallion’s body.</p> + +<p>“Come to your brother,” said Houghton softly. “Come +away.”</p> + +<p>“I only want Levallion,” she said very pitifully. “He +was kind to me,” in the old parrot cry. “Let me stay +with him.”</p> + +<p>The man nodded, because he could not speak. In +spite of himself he was assured that even if Lady Levallion +got up at the inquest, and swore that she herself had +killed her husband, it would not be true.</p> + +<p>“I wish I’d died for him,” she said, with a strange involuntary +turning to the man who a moment ago had +judged her. And Houghton believed her.</p> + +<p>In the silence he shivered, for the chill of death, as +well as morning, was in the great room. He had had a +hard night’s work and no sleep, but he could not go and +leave Lady Levallion. Any chance comer might hear her +say something senseless, might retail it at the inquest.</p> + +<p>“Why did you bring him here?” she cried suddenly. +“This awful room—he was alive here only a little while +ago.”</p> + +<p>“It seemed best.” The man could not say that one +reason was lest he should disturb her by taking Levallion +to his own room, so that she came in and saw him before +he was made ready for his coffin; the other, that +here the jury would more easily view the body. He +thanked God she had not got here before he carried +Levallion back from that bare table in the justice-room, +that she had no thought of what had been done there.</p> + +<p>“You must come with me,” he said, and for the first +time she looked at him.</p> + +<p>“You care!” she said sharply. “Oh, I thought there +was no one who cared but me—and Tommy! And I +never cared till to-night. God knows I’d sell my soul +to have him back—even to know what he would like me +to do.”</p> + +<p>“Tell the truth!” said Houghton involuntarily, and saw +freezing terror in her eyes for the second time that night.</p> + +<p>Her answer was absent, curious.</p> + +<p>“I’ve nothing to tell. In my inmost soul I believe, +I will believe, I’ve nothing to tell. Oh, if I’d only made +you happy, perhaps——”</p> + +<p>“Look at his face,” said Houghton simply.</p> + +<p>But she barely heard him.</p> + +<p>Once more she drew to her breast—now that it was +too late for the man who had longed for her love to feel +it—the face she had never held there in life. With +anguish she kissed the shut eyes—for there are two +kinds of love in a woman’s heart, and if she had given +one utterly to Adrian Gordon, it was the other, that is +best and highest, that was Levallion’s now. If she cared +this hour whether Adrian Gordon lived or died it was not +for his own sake so much as Levallion’s.</p> + +<p>“Good-by,” she whispered. “I’ll never see you again. +You were too good for a little fool like me. And if +I’ve brought you here, I’ll pay for it.”</p> + +<p>She took no more heed of Houghton than if he had +been a stick or a stone, as she let him follow her to where +Celeste waited in the hall. But though Doctor Houghton +went to bed the thoughts in his mind kept the sleep he +needed away.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">TRIFLES LIGHT AS AIR.</p> + + +<p>“The last jury on earth he would have wanted!”</p> + +<p>Doctor Houghton looked at the country neighbors +whom the very irony of fate had assuredly brought together +as jurors at the inquest on the death of Lord +Levallion. He had systematically neglected or despised +them all, and there was not a man among them who really +wondered at the tragic ending of a man who had been +so notoriously unpopular. Since not one of them owed +either benefit or injury to Levallion they should give a +strictly impartial verdict, Houghton thought, as he was +sworn; yet it had struck a curious anger in him when, +as they viewed the body, not one of them had said “poor +Lady Levallion;” and he realized that the whole county +thought her a victim to a loveless marriage.</p> + +<p>He was apparently the first witness; and, stripped of +its technicalities, the gist of his evidence was that the +late Lord Levallion had certainly been poisoned with +some form of prussic acid in the liqueur he drank. The +post-mortem left no doubt of anything but the precise +form in which the poison was administered.</p> + +<p>“Some one, any one, might have been in his dressing-room +during the evening,” he finished slowly. “I found +this in the door, caught in the lock,” producing his little +rag of tweed, “but I am afraid it is no clue; for the stuff +is familiar to me, and was very likely a suit of Levallion’s +own, which he might have worn that afternoon. Any +thought of suicide is out of the question!” sharply, as a +juror murmured something. “Lord Levallion was the +last man to do such a thing. He was a man of very +superior intellect, and was, of late, supremely happy.”</p> + +<p>He did not notice that a girl was sitting in a dark +corner behind him as he stepped down from the witness-stand, +and stood where the face of each fresh witness +would be clearly seen. For the servants were called in, +and one by one dismissed as useless.</p> + +<p>All of them had been sitting in the servants’ hall when +Sir Thomas Annesley’s dog had come through there as +if it were mad, and run all round the room and thence +into the kitchen; where a terrified scullery-maid let it +out.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Briggs, the housekeeper, almost inaudible for +nervous weeping, had heard nothing till told his lordship +was dying. She had been sitting in her own parlor with +Carrousel, the cook, who had a toothache. He was with +her when the dreadful news came.</p> + +<p>“No, neither of us,” she sobbed, “had ever left the +room. I was dozing by the fire, he was walking up and +down. No”—again—“it was impossible the chef should +have left the room and come back without my knowledge.”</p> + +<p>Carrousel came next, a tall man with a short, dark +beard, and very blue eyes. He was neatly dressed in a +black coat and gray trousers, and looked most unlike a +cook.</p> + +<p>On being sworn and interrogated, he shook his head.</p> + +<p>“I can tell you nothing, monsieur,” he said. “I was +not well; my teeth were aching; I walked the floor in the +housekeeper’s room. I heard nothing.”</p> + +<p>“What time did you go there?”</p> + +<p>“At ten o’clock. At twenty minutes past eleven they +came and told me his lordship was dying.” His florid +face paled a little.</p> + +<p>One juror asked if he had not heard Sir Thomas’ +dog barking in the kitchen.</p> + +<p>“No, monsieur,” respectfully. “The housekeeper’s +room is some distance from the kitchen. I heard no +noise. I was glad to sit by the fire, perhaps to doze. It +was as well, perhaps. I have had no sleep since. Milord +was an excellent patron to me. He understood eating.”</p> + +<p>There was a listless detachedness in his voice, as of a +stranger who is utterly apart from his surroundings.</p> + +<p>“What did you serve his lordship for dinner?” the +coroner said suddenly.</p> + +<p>“It was not that which killed him,” Carrousel returned +gravely; “since the whole society partook of the same +plates. My cooking does not give even an indigestion, +much less death. Monsieur does not mean that he suspects +me?” patiently.</p> + +<p>“You are here to answer, not ask,” Doctor Aston returned +coldly. And with an extraordinary knowledge of +cooking and flavoring and accidental poisoning, he asked +question after question of the chef, fruitlessly. The man +quietly, without anger, cleared himself. It was impossible +that he could have tampered with any portion of the +dinner, since every one of his four kitchen-maids had +seen it all prepared. As for any of his almond flavoring—which +in sufficient quantity was poisonous—having +been put into the bottle which killed Lord Levallion, +almond flavoring was a thing for small pastry cooks. +When he required it he used almonds, of which his lordship +was very fond. He had in his possession absolutely +nothing with a smell of bitter almonds, which could +have been stolen and added to the bottle to hide some +other taste.</p> + +<p>The jury stirred impatiently—there had been no question +of poison in the dinner—till it suddenly occurred to +them that from the coroner’s minute questions Carrousel +had been obliged to account for every instant of his time +from six o’clock till twenty minutes past eleven. If +there had been any juggling with bottles in Levallion’s +dressing-room, the busy cook could have had no hand in +it; for the kitchen-maids’ evidence tallied with his.</p> + +<p>Carrousel stood an instant, as if watching for a question +that did not come.</p> + +<p>“You can stand down,” said the coroner, and for one +second the cook’s listlessness vanished. There was relief +in his face, as of a man who has patiently despatched +a disagreeable duty.</p> + +<p>The butler succeeded him, and, having charge of the +cellar, was all but turned inside out with questions, the +result of which was that there had been absolutely no +other bottle of Eau de Vie Magique in the house, which +could have been poisoned and substituted for Lord +Levallion’s own, nor had he ever seen, or heard of, such +a liqueur in his life. There was no doubting his honesty, +nor his distress about his master’s death.</p> + +<p>Levallion’s own man was called—the only old servant +in the house. He did not look particularly honest—Levallion +had more opinion of brains than honesty, perhaps—but +Houghton thought, perhaps erroneously, that +he was the only clever witness they had had so far; +and the first who would not be content with clearing +himself, but determined to find out the murderer.</p> + +<p>“My name, sir? John Lacy,” he said, his hard, light +eyes taking in every face in the jury, with as much scorn +for their capacity as Levallion could have had. “I have +been with his lordship ten years.”</p> + +<p>“Did you ever see the bottle of liqueur with which +Lord Levallion was poisoned?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” quietly. “I saw the bottle of Eau de +Vie Magique which he kept in his dressing-room. It +was given to him this summer by a gentleman in Aix.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean it was taken away and another substituted?”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t say that, sir. But I know the liqueur was +all right last night at seven o’clock, for Sir Thomas +Annesley came up to my master’s room with him, and +his lordship made him drink a glass of it before my +eyes. Sir Thomas seemed very down, and as if he +wanted to speak about something. But his lordship put +him off.”</p> + +<p>A little rustle of interest ran along the jurors’ bench.</p> + +<p>“Then if it was Lord Levallion’s own liqueur he +drank, you contend it was poisoned during the evening?”</p> + +<p>“I’m certain of it, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Did Lord Levallion to your knowledge possess any +poison?”</p> + +<p>“No!” said Lacy flatly. “If you mean he committed +suicide, it’s out of the question. His lordship was more +contented than he had ever been in his life—or since I +knew him. Somebody gave it to him!”</p> + +<p>“Was he on bad terms with any one?”</p> + +<p>“Plenty of people!” calmly; “but none of them would +be likely to do it. I might about as well accuse her +ladyship of doing it as sensibly as any of the”—he stammered—“the +others!”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean Lord and Lady Levallion were not on +good terms?” sharply.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t mean to imply that, sir,” flushing. “I said, +and I think, Lord Levallion was more than happy. I +never heard of any trouble between the two, except that +last night I did hear them having a few words about going +out or something, as I was passing through the hall. +But it was nothing at all, sir!” hastily. “I beg you don’t +think I’m insinuating anything against my lady.”</p> + +<p>“Were you not in Lord Levallion’s dressing-room during +the evening?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir! I left it all neat, and was gone down-stairs +almost as soon as his lordship left the room. I never +went to his dressing-room of an evening till I was rung +for.”</p> + +<p>“You did not touch the bottle?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir! I put it up on the shelf, and I scratched +my hand on it for about the tenth time. It was a rough-made, +molded bottle, with a sort of seam down each side, +and time and again I’ve caught a scratch inside my hand +from that rough seam.”</p> + +<p>“Were you alone in the room?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir; his lordship’s second man was with me. It +was not either of us that tampered with the bottle.”</p> + +<p>“Is that it?” The coroner pointed to some fragments +of glass on a tray.</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t say.” Lacy fingered each scrap slowly; +none were bigger than a shilling. He looked up suddenly. +“In my opinion it isn’t!” he said. “But you will +understand that in the state the bottle is it can be only +my opinion. I wouldn’t like to swear to it, but I think +it. All I can say is that it is bits of glass and label +which might be the one that was in the dressing-room. I +wouldn’t swear it was the same.”</p> + +<p>“Will you swear it is not?” sharply.</p> + +<p>Lacy took the fragments and dust of paper-labeled +glass to the light; went over each bit with the seeing +fingers of a blind man, as well as faultless eyesight.</p> + +<p>“It’s not the same bottle,” he said, after what seemed +an hour. “There’s a pink smear on the label. His +lordship’s bottle, when I left it, was clean.”</p> + +<p>“That does not prove it a different bottle,” judicially. +“Only perhaps that some one touched it.”</p> + +<p>“To the best of my belief,” returned Lacy doggedly, +“that is not his lordship’s bottle. I can’t find the seam +on any of the pieces.”</p> + +<p>“Or in the dust,” said a juror scathingly.</p> + +<p>But Lacy stuck to his opinion and was let go. For +some reason, and to Houghton’s wonder, the coroner +never mentioned that rag of tweed.</p> + +<p>A frightened footman took his place, who had taken +coffee to the ladies after dinner.</p> + +<p>“Were all the ladies in the room then?” asked Aston.</p> + +<p>“Yes, that is—no, sir! I took in coffee and a note for +her ladyship,” stammering, “and she gets up and leaves +the room and Lady Gwendolen Brook after her.”</p> + +<p>“With her,” the coroner half-corrected.</p> + +<p>“Just as you say, sir,” abjectly. “I’d got out in the +hall with my tray when Lady Gwendolen come out and +run up-stairs after her ladyship.”</p> + +<p>“Oh!” said the coroner quietly; “you can go.”</p> + +<p>He called Lady Gwendolen for the next witness, and +Houghton’s mouth tightened.</p> + +<p>He remembered how the women had stood when he arrived, +how aloof, how ironical. If he were not mistaken, +the drama would begin with the new witness.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">THE EVIDENCE IN THE CASE.</p> + + +<p>Lady Gwendolen Brook, darkly handsome, exquisitely +ready, even to her hat, to leave Levallion Castle the first +possible instant, took the oath with a fastidious wonder +as to where the little crowd of servants had kissed the +book.</p> + +<p>It was quite exciting to be a witness; she felt aggrieved +that the jury were all “country frumps,” who +might not appreciate the charming picture she was making +as she answered a few innocuous questions. Presently +she would give a dramatic recital of Levallion’s +dreadful, staggering fall as he drank the liqueur his wife +had brought him. But the gently spoken coroner suddenly +put drama out of her head.</p> + +<p>“Did you go to your room when you left the drawing-room +last night after dinner?” he said mildly.</p> + +<p>Terror caught Lady Gwendolen by the throat. Did +the man dare to think it was she who had been to Levallion’s +room to poison him?</p> + +<p>“No!” she said sharply, angrily. “I went after Lady +Levallion, to—to ask if anything was the matter.”</p> + +<p>“Why did you think anything was the matter—and +how far did you go after her?”</p> + +<p>The second question made her ready to say anything +to clear herself—from what was not in any one’s mind +but her own.</p> + +<p>“I went to the head of the stairs outside her room,” +she said, “and she shut her door as I got there. I stood +a minute in an open doorway, and she ran past me in a +cloak and hat—as I thought she would,” flurriedly.</p> + +<p>“Why did you think it? And did you come down +then? Did any one see what you did, or where you +went?”</p> + +<p>Lady Gwendolen glanced wildly round the room as if +for some one who might prompt her. Jimmy Scarsdale +had told her to hold her tongue if she had to go on the +stand, but Jimmy had not known this horrid coroner +would suspect her. She caught Houghton’s hard blue +eyes, and her last remnant of self-control left her.</p> + +<p>“No, nobody!” she cried. “But if you think I went to +Lord Levallion’s dressing-room, I can show you I didn’t. +I went after Lady Levallion for fun, and to see if I +could find out what her little game was. She dropped a +card—a torn card—at breakfast-time, and I picked it up; +and gave it for fun to Levallion. It had on it, ‘I’ll come +back to-night. Meet me,’ and I knew there was some +lark on, I had almost forgotten it, when Lady Levallion +got a note in the drawing-room after dinner. She was +standing beside me, and she crumpled it all up in a +hurry. She said to herself, quite loud, ‘I’ll have to go,’ +and she flew out of the room.”</p> + +<p>“All this has nothing to do with your movements, has +it?” queried the coroner politely.</p> + +<p>“Everything!” She was what Lacy called “utterly +rattled” and frightened. “I thought Lady Levallion was +going to slip out and meet—a man—and I thought what +a huge joke it would be on Levallion, who had suddenly +grown so domestic. When Lady Levallion passed me +in her outdoor things I ran to the turn of the stairs to +see where she went. And I heard Levallion come out of +the dining-room and stop her. They fought like cats and +dogs, and I dared not go down till they moved. As soon +as they did I ran back to the drawing-room. I can tell +you every word they said if you like. I never heard him +in such a temper. And he had been annoyed all day, ever +since I gave him that card.”</p> + +<p>Houghton’s head was buzzing like a sawmill. There +had been trouble, then, of which he knew nothing. But +he could not make it fit with that memory of Lady Levallion’s +face as she clung to the dead man. The coroner’s +voice steadied him to clear attention.</p> + +<p>“Why did you give the card you found to Lord Levallion +instead of his wife? And how did you know it was +hers?”</p> + +<p>“Because I saw her drop it!” she answered the second +question first, as women do. “I gave it to Levallion for +amusement, to see what he would do. He had grown so +very married and dull, and stuck his wife on such a pedestal +over us all, that I wanted to give him a jar. He +told me with all the air in the world that there was no +one like her, and I wanted to see if he meant it. I knew +he must have heard every word she said one night in the +greenhouse to Captain Gordon about marrying him if +Levallion died. Colonel Scarsdale and I saw him——” +She stopped. Jimmy would throw her over for this, bag +and baggage, and she needed him just now. But the +thing was beyond Jimmy’s jurisdiction already.</p> + +<p>“Be good enough to say what you mean, clearly. You +saw whom?”</p> + +<p>“I saw Levallion moving away behind some orange-trees +one night in the conservatory. Captain Gordon +and Lady Levallion were talking and he was listening. +They didn’t know he was there.”</p> + +<p>“How do you know he was listening?”</p> + +<p>“Because I heard some one behind me where I was +sitting and I knew it was not Captain Gordon and Lady +Levallion, who were just in front of us. I looked through +the flowers and saw Levallion. He must have heard +every word they said. We did!”</p> + +<p>“Who do you mean by we?”</p> + +<p>“Colonel Scarsdale,” crossly. “He heard, too. He can +say what he likes, but he did!” for Jimmy would have to +back her up now. This man meant to know just why she +had taken enough interest in Lady Levallion’s doings to +follow her. Otherwise she could not prove by any earthly +means that it was not she who had been prowling round +Levallion’s dressing-room.</p> + +<p>“Colonel Scarsdale will answer for himself,” slowly. +“For just a few moments more I must trouble you, Lady +Gwendolen. Were you in the conservatory by accident, +or a thirst for amusement?”</p> + +<p>“Accident—I don’t know,” she stammered. “Lady +Levallion and Captain Gordon had left the room where +we were dancing, and they were gone for such ages that +they kept us waiting for supper. I went partly to get +cool, and partly to see if they were there.”</p> + +<p>“And stayed to listen to their conversation?”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t get out,” angrily. “You don’t understand! +They were on one side of me and Levallion was standing +still on the other. I could hear his heart beat and his +shirt-front creak. I couldn’t go past either him or his +wife.”</p> + +<p>“Did what you heard repay you for your forced stay?”</p> + +<p>“It was just the tail end of a silly flirtation,” viciously, +“if that is what you mean! Rubbish about her having to +forget, and not being able to get rid of Levallion to +please him. And something about sending Captain Gordon +back a ring.”</p> + +<p>“Yet you were sufficiently interested to listen.”</p> + +<p>Lady Gwendolen shrugged her shoulders.</p> + +<p>“It was interesting enough,” she said. “He said that +in old times he would have——” She stopped, her very +blood seemed to stop in her; her callous heart to turn +over with horror. If she told what Gordon said, and it +was true, she was putting a rope round his neck. The +thought made even Gwendolen Brook sick.</p> + +<p>“He would have what?”</p> + +<p>“I won’t tell you!” she gasped.</p> + +<p>“I am afraid you have no choice,” said the coroner +quietly; and the jury whispered together.</p> + +<p>“He said in old times”—it was like dragging out every +reluctant word—“he would have poisoned Levallion, but +now he could only go away. I know he didn’t mean it!” +wretchedly; “it was just flirtation.”</p> + +<p>“Flirtation is apparently an elastic word,” Doctor Aston +said dryly. “Is that all?”</p> + +<p>Lady Gwendolen had vices in plenty, but her blood and +breeding went against lying. She thought of her oath, of +the Bible she had kissed, of—and this went home—how +useless it would be to perjure herself when Jimmy Scarsdale +might certainly give her away.</p> + +<p>“I forget,” she gasped. But the coroner had seen her +stop another sentence on her tongue.</p> + +<p>“I am very sorry, you naturally hesitate,” he said—and +even Houghton was not sure whether he was earnest +or sarcastic—“but I must have the whole, if you please.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, he said would she marry him if Levallion +died!” defiantly. “It meant nothing. I know a woman +who gave a man a note about the same thing. ‘I, so and +so, promise that on the death of my husband I will marry +you, so and so, within a year.’ But, of course, she won’t +do it!”</p> + +<p>The jury gasped. They were not smart, but estimable +county magnates who were not accustomed to playing +with the Ten Commandments.</p> + +<p>Lady Gwendolen misunderstood the gasp, and rushed +further into the mire.</p> + +<p>“Of course I don’t wonder Captain Gordon was excited,” +she cried valiantly. “He was Levallion’s heir till +his marriage, and the nurse who looked after him while +he was ill here told my maid that Lady Levallion had +been engaged to Adrian Gordon when she married Levallion! +The nurse heard them——”</p> + +<p>“I think that is enough hearsay,” said Aston quickly. +“You can step down.”</p> + +<p>“Cannot I go? Must I stay here?” with a disconcerted +glance at the roomful of servants.</p> + +<p>“I must ask you to take a chair,” said the coroner +absently.</p> + +<p>“But you can’t want me any more!” wide-eyed. “You +see, surely, that it was only because I wanted to see if +Lady Levallion was going out to meet Captain Gordon +that I went up-stairs after her.”</p> + +<p>“Why did you think she had gone to meet him? He +had gone to London.”</p> + +<p>“Because the card said, ‘I’ll come back to-night’ and +‘meet me’; it was signed A. G. What else could I think? +But it was all silly nonsense. You can’t think any of it +had to do with——” But she did not finish the sentence. +Vain, heartless, empty-headed woman that she was, +Gwendolen Brook saw suddenly what her foolish evidence +had done. She had made a fool of herself, had +brought Jimmy Scarsdale and herself into a nice mess—and +Jimmy would half-kill her. Of the anything but nice +mess in which she had involved her hostess she would +not think. She began to cry from terror and humiliation.</p> + +<p>Monsieur Carrousel moved quietly forward from +among the servants, and handed pretty, foolish Lady +Gwendolen Brook a chair.</p> + +<p>Colonel Scarsdale came in stolidly, and when he saw +Gwendolen’s face hidden in her ring-laden hands was +stolid no longer.</p> + +<p>“She made an ass of herself!” he thought swiftly, and +wondered what the devil he was to do.</p> + +<p>He pulled at his mustache as the questions began; he +had no wish to be mixed up in the thing, but, on the +other hand, if Lady Levallion had poisoned her husband—as +he honestly thought she had—she could clear herself. +Downright lies, too, would be no use if Gwendolen +had told all she thought; which was probable, since +she would not look at him.</p> + +<p>“Will you be good enough to tell us what you heard +one evening in the conservatory?” said the coroner, +blandly, and Scarsdale made up his mind.</p> + +<p>“There were so many evenings in the conservatory,” +he said slowly, “I don’t remember any particular one.”</p> + +<p>Lady Gwendolen’s hands dropped from her face. Was +Jimmy going to fail her?</p> + +<p>“On this particular evening you had danced. You went +into the conservatory to wait for supper. Did you hear +any conversation, or know that any one was there?”</p> + +<p>“I heard a couple of people talking. I didn’t listen.”</p> + +<p>“How near were they?”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t tell you. It was not very light.”</p> + +<p>“Did you, on your oath, recognize the voices?”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t swear to them. One man’s voice is very +like another’s when he whispers.”</p> + +<p>“Did you know the woman’s voice?”</p> + +<p>“I thought at the time it was Lady Levallion, but I +supposed she had a right to be in her own conservatory.”</p> + +<p>“In fact, you recognized her voice?”</p> + +<p>“I may have imagined it.”</p> + +<p>“Did you hear what the man said to her?”</p> + +<p>“I heard the usual conservatory love-making,” calmly. +“I couldn’t repeat any of it.”</p> + +<p>“Yet the lady with you heard distinctly!”</p> + +<p>“Women have quicker ears,” hastily.</p> + +<p>“Did you hear anything said about what might be done +if Lord Levallion died?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Scarsdale slowly. “But a man in love is +no more accountable than one in drink.”</p> + +<p>“Did you hear Lady Levallion’s answer?”</p> + +<p>“No! She whispered something, if it were she.”</p> + +<p>“Was there any one else in the conservatory, to your +knowledge?”</p> + +<p>“There was some one behind us. I don’t know who it +was.”</p> + +<p>“Was it Lord Levallion?”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t say,” sensibly, “I certainly did not either +see him or hear him speak. I knew there was some +one, but it might have been two people for all I know. +Levallion was in the picture-gallery with the others when +I got back. They were just going down to supper.”</p> + +<p>“Was Lady Levallion there?”</p> + +<p>“No! She was standing just inside the dining-room +door when we went down to supper. She was alone.”</p> + +<p>“Is that all you can recall of the evening?”</p> + +<p>“I think so. There was nothing to stamp it on my +mind. Sir Thomas Annesley’s dog ate some soup and +was sick,” insolently. “I saw that at supper.”</p> + +<p>“Who gave him the soup?”</p> + +<p>“Levallion. No one else took any,” slowly, struck +for the first time with the thought that there might have +been a reason for Mr. Jacobs’ indisposition.</p> + +<p>“Did you, from that evening, see any cause to take an +interest in the movements of Lady Levallion and Captain +Gordon?”</p> + +<p>“I suppose we all laughed a little at Levallion letting +them flirt under his nose. But they scarcely spoke to +each other in public afterward.”</p> + +<p>“In that case, then, it was common talk that he overheard +them in the greenhouse?”</p> + +<p>“People talk of anything in the country.”</p> + +<p>But his half-truths had done more harm than good, +except to get him out of any further connection with the +distasteful business. A juror whispered something to +the coroner; and Sir Thomas Annesley was called.</p> + +<p>The boy’s brown face was thin and haggard. He +had no thought of where suspicion might go, but he had +an honest misery in him because Levallion lay dead upstairs. +There was a moment’s diversion as Mr. Jacobs, +who came in with him, growled and bristled so fiercely +that he had to be removed.</p> + +<p>“It’s Carrousel! The dog hates him,” said Sir Thomas +angrily, as some one said something about a “vicious +brute.” “The dog is as kind as milk.”</p> + +<p>“Why does he hate unoffending people, then?” inquired +the coroner, who detested dogs.</p> + +<p>“Oh! Carrousel was always hanging round where Levallion +and my sister could see him, and I suppose Jacobs +knew they didn’t like it. I don’t know any other reason.”</p> + +<p>Monsieur Carrousel looked unjustly injured.</p> + +<p>“Pardon, messieurs!” he cried, “but it never occurred +to me until milord said so, that it was forbidden for +me to take the air on his estate.”</p> + +<p>“You kept on taking it, all the same,” said Tommy +angrily. “I believe it was you poisoned my dog, too!”</p> + +<p>The coroner hushed him sharply.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean about your dog being poisoned?”</p> + +<p>“I mean Levallion did not eat his soup one night at +supper and gave it to Jacobs,” grimly. “The dog was +sick, and I worked over him all night. The vet. said it +was prussic acid, and I thought he might have eaten +meat poisoned for poachers’ dogs, but I don’t think so +now. I think it was the soup that Levallion didn’t +taste.”</p> + +<p>Carrousel turned livid with fury.</p> + +<p>“It was not poisoned in my kitchen, then!” he shouted. +“Ask who was in the dining-room before the other guests, +first!”</p> + +<p>“Another word and you leave the room,” said Aston +quietly. “Sir Thomas, are you convinced that poisoned +soup was meant for Lord Levallion?”</p> + +<p>“Since he was poisoned last night, I am,” grimly. “It +was a twenty-to-one chance against his giving it to my +dog. Levallion had soup every night.”</p> + +<p>“Who do you think poisoned it?” bluntly.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know. But I do know that there was a +strange woman hanging round outside the house that +night, for Levallion and I both saw her. He was angry +because she was spying in the greenhouse, and he went +there to try and pounce on her. I think he knew who +she was.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean she could have got in and put poison in +Lord Levallion’s soup? It sounds impossible.”</p> + +<p>“Not when you know that they were having a sort of +masquerade in the house!” valiantly. “All the women +were wearing black masks and had their heads tied up +in black rags. Any one might have walked in, for the +doors were all open, and all the plates of soup were +standing ready on the dining-table because we kept supper +waiting. Any one who’d looked in the window +enough to know where Levallion sat could have easily +doctored his soup.”</p> + +<p>“But the servants would hardly have let them?” incredulously.</p> + +<p>The butler asked permission to speak, a ray of hope +in his face.</p> + +<p>“If you please, your honor, Sir Thomas is right,” he +said. “After placing the soup on the table I went to +announce supper, and sent the other men off to attend +to various things, so that, when I got back five minutes +after, the room was empty. I didn’t wonder his lordship +did not eat his soup, for it was cold and uninviting-looking. +Her ladyship waited quite another five minutes +for the party at the dining-room door.”</p> + +<p>“Her ladyship—Lady Levallion—was in the dining-room +when you got back?” evenly.</p> + +<p>“No, sir! but outside the door,” respectfully.</p> + +<p>But for one long instant Sir Thomas Annesley stood +speechless with rage and surprised horror. Would they +dare to think it was Ravenel who had done it?</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">“I SAW—NO ONE!”</p> + + +<p>“No one dares to insinuate,” he broke out the second +he got his breath, “that——”</p> + +<p>“No,” said the coroner quietly. “Be good enough, Sir +Thomas, to tell just what you saw of this woman outside. +Did you observe her on that occasion only?”</p> + +<p>“I saw her the next night. I followed her from the +garden into the park. She was sitting on a rock in the +moonlight, drinking champagne with a man. I couldn’t +see her face, nor his; but she was wearing an evening +cloak and I thought she was a lady. My dog went for +the man, but he missed him——” He stopped something +on the end of his tongue, as if he remembered there was +no need to tell more than he was asked.</p> + +<p>“Your dog appears to be ubiquitous!” dryly. “Did +you know the man?”</p> + +<p>The room was breathless with interest. Every soul in +it, except Carrousel, leaned forward; but the question +had apparently small interest for the cook.</p> + +<p>“The man,” said Sir Thomas unwillingly, “was, to the +best of my belief, Captain Gordon, though I thought him +in bed at the castle. Levallion said he’d gone to bed, +as he was leaving early in the morning.”</p> + +<p>And if he had known the deadly gist of his evidence +taken with Lady Gwendolen’s, he would have perjured +himself ten times over.</p> + +<p>“The woman was no one of the house-party? You +are sure?” searchingly.</p> + +<p>“She was a stranger, as far as I could tell. All the +other women were in the drawing-room but my sister, +and she and Levallion went in there while I was hanging +out of the hall window watching the woman in the +garden.”</p> + +<p>“You are sure it was Captain Gordon in the wood?”</p> + +<p>“I would be, but for one thing. My dog was furious +when he saw him, and he was fond of Gordon. I +thought afterward perhaps it was some one stouter +than Gordon, but dressed like him.”</p> + +<p>“How was he dressed?”</p> + +<p>“In a Norfolk jacket and loose knickerbockers. I saw +them against the moonlight.”</p> + +<p>“You say Lord Levallion seemed to know who the +woman was?”</p> + +<p>Tommy nodded.</p> + +<p>“I’m sure he did! He said afterward that it must +have been a kitchen-maid; but maids don’t wear trains +and long evening cloaks. I meant to tell him I’d seen +her again, but when I went to his dressing-room last +night before dinner he wouldn’t talk. And I drank some +of that liqueur that he died of four hours afterward. It +was all right then!”</p> + +<p>The coroner nodded, knowing it already.</p> + +<p>“I won’t trouble you any more,” he said. “Except to +ask you if you would know that mysterious woman if +you saw her again?”</p> + +<p>Even Carrousel waited for the answer.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” reluctantly. “I’d know her if she +wore those clothes, but I never saw her face. Only I’m +sure that she had something to do with the thing.”</p> + +<p>“You were not in the house at the death of your +brother-in-law, I think?”</p> + +<p>“I ran out the back way after Jacobs. I thought he +was after the cook, and I tore up-stairs and then down +and outside till I found Jacobs, trying to get back into +the house again. Then I sent for you, as soon as I found +out what had happened.”</p> + +<p>Tommy moved to Houghton’s side as one after one the +house-party came in, and had, except Lord Chayter, to +acknowledge that they had all heard and talked of Lady +Levallion’s flirtation with her husband’s cousin. Houghton +laid a quick hand on his shoulder, for the boy was +livid with fury and outraged pride. Each guest in Levallion’s +house had given his or her version of his wife’s +flirtation with Adrian Gordon, come by either from sight +or hearsay; of Levallion’s knowledge of it; of his quarrel +with his wife half an hour before he died.</p> + +<p>“My God!” whispered Tommy, half-choked. “Do they +mean——”</p> + +<p>“Hush! Wait!” said Houghton, in his ear. “There is +only Chayter left.”</p> + +<p>And Lord Chayter, to Tommy’s surprise, had other +things to say. To his knowledge, and Lady Levallion’s, +some one had been in the habit of spying round the house +after dark. He had twice seen a face at the dining-room +window, and had once pointed it out to Lady Levallion. +Had also told Lord Levallion, who said it was nonsense. +But Lord Chayter was of the opinion that Levallion had +not meant what he said. “There were plenty of people, +men and—well, more especially women, if you like! who +had a grudge against Levallion.” (With which the jury +agreed.) “In my opinion that loiterer was probably one +of them,” ended Lord Chayter abruptly. “That’s what +it seems to me.”</p> + +<p>And Sir Thomas could have hugged the ugly little +man. Aston called the last witness.</p> + +<p>The room was packed by this time. Every one in the +house but the boot-boy being in it, and no one had remembered +him. Alone, through the silent, deserted +house, Lady Levallion came to the shut door of the +library, and, as if she saw none of the familiar faces, +walked into the hot, close room.</p> + +<p>She wore the coarse, blue serge Houghton had seen +her in at dawn. Levallion had hated black. She had +not a black gown to wear, and did not care. White as +wax she took the oath, and, stony-eyed, faced the coroner. +But she had to try three times before she could +answer the first question.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she said huskily, “it was I who went to my +husband’s room for that bottle of liqueur.”</p> + +<p>“Before that,” said the coroner unexpectedly, “what +had you been doing?”</p> + +<p>“I was down in the hall talking up to him. I wanted +to go out and he would not let me. He was annoyed +with me because of something he imagined, till I told +him why I wanted to go out.”</p> + +<p>“Why was it?”</p> + +<p>“A woman whom I had known was dying. She sent +for me. I showed Levallion her letter, and he said we +would both go after the others had gone to bed.”</p> + +<p>“He was not annoyed, then?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no!” lifelessly.</p> + +<p>“Why had he thought you wished to go out?”</p> + +<p>“I dropped a card with some writing on it. Levallion +thought it referred to last night, whereas it was one I +never got, and four months old.”</p> + +<p>“How did it reach you, then?”</p> + +<p>“My stepmother’s maid had it. It was she who was +dying and wanted to explain something to me that I +knew already.”</p> + +<p>“What—exactly?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t think I need say. It concerned,” she twisted +her hands hard together, “no one but me and Levallion,” +she finished unexpectedly.</p> + +<p>“Was it the card, a four-months’-old card, that was +taking you out?”</p> + +<p>“No. The woman who sent it to me was dying, and +wrote me two letters begging me to come to her that +night and let her tell me something before it was too +late. She had behaved badly to me. She was sorry.”</p> + +<p>“And Lord Levallion would not allow it?”</p> + +<p>“On the contrary, he was going to take me, but——” +she could not finish. With a sharp breath, an uncontrollable +passion, she cried out: “Oh! Doctor Aston, I think, +now that I’ve had time to think, that perhaps the woman +knew something, knew some one meant to poison Levallion. +That it was that which made her send for me. +And I didn’t go. I can’t forgive myself that I didn’t +go!”</p> + +<p>“Where are her letters?”</p> + +<p>“I can’t”—Carrousel looked really affected—“I can’t +find them. I thought Levallion had them. Weren’t they +in his pocket?”</p> + +<p>“No. They have never been heard of till now. But I +can easily send for the woman.”</p> + +<p>“She died last night,” said Lady Levallion slowly. +“Some one must have her letters. Some one might have +picked them up when—he fell.” The last two words +seemed to choke her.</p> + +<p>But not a soul in Levallion Castle had seen those +letters.</p> + +<p>“Lord Levallion was annoyed about a card?” the coroner +barked back obstinately.</p> + +<p>“A card I never got, about something that was over +long ago,” bravely. “That card referred to last May. +Some one had told Levallion it was last night. I told +him the truth—and he believed me. Whatever that card +had to do with me once, it was not now.”</p> + +<p>“Then you were on good terms with Lord Levallion +when he sent you for that liqueur?”</p> + +<p>“On better terms than ever in my life,” hardly able +to answer.</p> + +<p>“Describe what you did when you left the drawing-room.”</p> + +<p>“I went straight to Levallion’s dressing-room. I took +the bottle off a shelf and I thought it felt warm in my +hands, like a ring some one has been wearing. And +then my brother’s dog, who was with me, barked and +startled me. I nearly dropped the bottle. I wish I had!”</p> + +<p>“What did he bark at?”</p> + +<p>Lady Levallion swayed where she stood.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” she muttered. “I—he flew at the +door and banged it as he jumped against it. I—I—thought”—Carrousel +put a hand to his mouth as if to hide +his pity for his mistress—“I thought it must be a cat in +the hall. I caught Jacobs by the collar and he got away +from me and tore back through my rooms and out into +the hall.”</p> + +<p>Some one who had no business there, since he had +not been called as a witness, had come softly in behind +her, but where he stood could see her face plainly in a +mirror. The face he knew every line and curve of, just +as he knew every tone of Ravenel Levallion’s voice. +Something in both of them caught at his heart.</p> + +<p>“Did you see the cat?”</p> + +<p>“I saw no one, nothing,” said Lady Levallion deliberately. +She looked round the crowded room as though +she were hunted, looked at the Bible she had kissed but +now. Her voice came suddenly to the waiting-room, +clear, unfaltering as a bugle. “I saw absolutely no one. +No one!”</p> + +<p>And Adrian Gordon, whom no one had noticed come +in, knew she lied.</p> + +<p>“What did you do then?”</p> + +<p>“I ran back to the drawing-room. I was frightened to +be there alone. The dog had startled me. I never looked +at the bottle, but when Levallion said it smelled of +almonds”—and Heaven knew where she got her self-control +to speak of it quietly—“I tried to stop his drinking +it. I remembered it was almond soup that had poisoned +my brother’s dog.”</p> + +<p>Carrousel started furiously and then sat still. Lady +Levallion might say what she liked.</p> + +<p>“Where were you the night the dog was poisoned?”</p> + +<p>“At supper. But I never thought of its being the soup +till it flashed over me when Levallion spoke of the liqueur +smelling of almonds. I suppose it made me think of +prussic acid.”</p> + +<p>If she had sobbed, fainted, been interestingly weak, the +jury might not have sat so stolid. Each word she said +was somehow setting them to think it was a desperate +woman who stood so quiet and yet so bold before them.</p> + +<p>“Before supper?” said the coroner slowly.</p> + +<p>“I had been in the conservatory with Captain Gordon. +He left me at the dining-room door; he was not well and +went to bed. I went into the dining-room”—Houghton +could have screamed at her to hold her tongue—“and it +was empty. I stood at the door and waited for the +others.”</p> + +<p>“Why?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know.”</p> + +<p>“You were alone in there, and alone in the dressing-room?” +said the coroner, after what seemed a year.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” listlessly. And then the faces of the jury +seemed suddenly to leap into her eyes; live men, not +automatons. She started, as if to back away from the +dreadful thing that was written in those faces. But she +stood dumb before them.</p> + +<p>And every man of them thought it was the dumbness, +the confession of guilt.</p> + +<p>The coroner held out a rag of tweed toward her.</p> + +<p>“Did you ever see a suit of clothes of this stuff?” he +said. “Had Lord Levallion one?”</p> + +<p>There was that desperate terror in her eyes now that +Houghton knew. She looked from the jury to the coroner +and back again.</p> + +<p>“I don’t think he had,” she gasped. “I would not +know.”</p> + +<p>“Did you ever see a suit like them?”</p> + +<p>“I—never—saw—one,” said Ravenel Levallion, white-lipped.</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas Annesley caught Houghton’s hand and +pointed to Adrian Gordon, dressed in that very tweed, +thread for thread; and standing as if he were turned to +stone.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">“WILFUL MURDER.”</p> + + +<p>Sickened, helpless, Adrian Gordon had stood, indeed, +for the last five minutes, as a man who comes on some +awful bit of cruelty he cannot stop. Ravenel’s hunted +face, her desperate eyes, her answers about seeing no one—that +instinct told him was a lie—paralyzed him with +sick astonishment.</p> + +<p>They were baiting her like a helpless beast, justly +enough if they were right. But every drop of his blood +knew they were wrong. And she was not defending herself, +was not telling all she knew; for he knew what that +veiled look in her eyes meant. He had seen it before, +when her thoughts were one thing and her words another.</p> + +<p>“Think, Lady Levallion,” said the coroner earnestly, +“for even if you saw no one in Lord Levallion’s dressing-room, +some one might have been there! This rag +of tweed was caught in the door, in the box of the door-latch.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know it,” was all she said. “I didn’t see any +one.”</p> + +<p>Something like a flash of lightning went through +Adrian Gordon’s brain. She knew it well enough, since +it was a suit he had worn that May that was dead and +gone—not that very suit he was wearing. She had seen +some one, and was lying because she knew the clothes +they wore. He strode into the middle of the room, tall, +strong, blackly angry.</p> + +<p>“Be good enough to put me on the stand,” he cried +roughly, for she should lie no more for so inconceivable +a suspicion; to defend a man who had been miles away. +“And look at my clothes, if you want to know where that +rag came from!”</p> + +<p>Lady Levallion caught her breath, stared at him with +narrowed eyes, and, without a word, slipped like water to +the floor. But he never even seemed to see, never stirred, +as Houghton came quickly forward and took her to a +sofa.</p> + +<p>Gordon took the tweed scrap and held it against his +coat.</p> + +<p>“You see!” he said contemptuously. “Now, perhaps +you will think I poisoned my cousin! Fortunately, I was +miles away that night, and with half a dozen other men, +who can tell you so.”</p> + +<p>“Then I hardly see——” began the coroner.</p> + +<p>“I will help you,” and every soul in the room saw the +sudden likeness to the dead Levallion as he spoke. “I +was in London, but my clothes weren’t. I had two suits +exactly alike. I wore one of them down here the day I +was taken ill. They cut the coat off me, and when I got +better I sent up to town for the other coat, and my man +sent me the whole suit. I put it on and forgot about +the other, with the cut coat. And I’ve never seen it from +that day to this. But”—and he tapped the rag of tweed—“that +came out of it. And that I can swear, for I spilt +something on it, and you can see the edge of the stain on +this. It was some one, dressed in my clothes, who caught +their knickerbockers in Levallion’s door, whether Lady +Levallion saw them or not.” He laughed coldly, as he +saw that in spite of what he said the jury’s eyes were +glued to the knickerbockers he had on. “Some one stole +those clothes, perhaps you can tell me who!” he cried. +“Till you find out that, it might be as well to accuse no +one.”</p> + +<p>Houghton, bending over Lady Levallion in a distant +corner, drew his breath. He understood something now +of that terror that had been on her.</p> + +<p>“I wish to God she’d told me, instead of lying!” he +thought, as he saw her coming to. “They won’t believe +one word he says now; for he can’t prove it.”</p> + +<p>Nor could he. Not a servant in the house had known +anything about his clothes. He had taken the second suit +out of his box himself, and shoved the spoiled suit in +there; from whence, on going back to town, he found it +had vanished. The story was lame.</p> + +<p>The coroner asked him a hundred questions that might +have made any woman flinch to hear, since her name +came in each one. But Ravenel, leaning sick and faint +on Tommy’s shoulder, never winced. All that bygone +story of the card Adrian Gordon told. His face was +set like flint as he spoke.</p> + +<p>“I don’t ask other men’s wives to meet me after dark,” +he ended contemptuously. “If the letters from that +woman that prove it are lost, there has been culpable +negligence somewhere.”</p> + +<p>When told Sir Thomas Annesley had seen him at night +with a strange woman in black, he looked round the +room quietly, as if to see which of the servants was like +him in figure. But none was as tall, except Carrousel, +who was stouter, and had a beard.</p> + +<p>“Sir Thomas was mistaken,” he said slowly. “But I do +not doubt he saw some one in my clothes. I was in my +room. I know no woman with whom I would go out.”</p> + +<p>“To whose knowledge were you in your room?”</p> + +<p>“Levallion’s. He came and sat with me.”</p> + +<p>“Lord Levallion’s!” said Aston slowly, and deadly disbelief +in a man who could only call a dead witness crept +into each juror’s soul.</p> + +<p>Gordon shrugged his shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Have you all gone mad?” he said coldly. “If I can’t +prove I was in my room when Sir Thomas thought he +saw me, I can prove I was in town last night. Just call +my servant in, will you?”</p> + +<p>And his man routed the jury, horse and foot. Captain +Gordon had been in his own rooms, playing cards with +some other gentlemen, with whom he had dined at the +club. The man gave half a dozen names of men whose +word would be taken on their oath, or not. Carrousel sat +listening, with a curious scorn. It was all so different +from his ideas of justice; so short-sighted, so biased. He +even smiled a little at the foolish tale of those two suits +of clothes, till Captain Gordon said quietly that his tailor’s +book could settle that question.</p> + +<p>His sternness, his contempt for stupidity and foregone +conclusions had made the jury almost forget he had not +been able to prove he was not the man who had drunk +champagne in the wood. But, as he stepped down, the +coroner recalled Lady Levallion; and she came, a living, +breathing woman now, instead of one of stone. Relief +was in her eyes, in her very hands, as they hung at her +sides. But Houghton was looking like a man distraught +at the coroner’s face.</p> + +<p>“You swear that you had no part nor lot in the poisoning +of your husband; that you saw no one in the dressing-room +who could have put poison into that bottle of +liqueur, or changed it?”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” she said quietly. “I swear I had no hand in +it. That I tried, even at the last minute, to save him.”</p> + +<p>“Then,” said Doctor Aston slowly, “how did you come +by these? A housemaid found them this morning behind +your window-curtains, in your bedroom.”</p> + +<p>He held out to her a bottle of Eau de Vie Magique, +half-full, with a rough seam running down each side of +the bottle; a tiny flask full of clear, faintly green liquid, +that, as he uncorked it, smelled of bitter almonds in the +hot room.</p> + +<p>Lacy started forward.</p> + +<p>“That’s my lord’s bottle!” he cried. “I thought the +other was not.”</p> + +<p>“Exactly,” said the coroner. “And this is distilled +laurel-water and deadly poison. I analyzed it and gave +some to a cat, which died in three minutes, with every +symptom of prussic-acid poisoning. Gentlemen of the +jury, we have heard all the evidence.”</p> + +<p>“You shall hear me!” Lady Levallion’s face was on +fire. “What do I know about those bottles?—nothing +but that they were put in my room by some one. Find +out who did that”—for, with that deadly conviction gone +from her mind, she could speak out, since that disappearing +shadow in Levallion’s dressing-room—a shadow that +had been substance enough to bang the door in Mr. +Jacobs’ face, and run—had not been Adrian Gordon—“and +you may find out who murdered Levallion. It was +not I, for I would have died for him.”</p> + +<p>Every man of the jury turned to look at her, but not +one of them spoke. To their stolid, conventional minds +it seemed clear enough that she and Gordon had had +reason to wish Levallion out of the way, that the poisoning +was her work, an unhappy, probably rejected, girl, +who had been deceived into a marriage with a callous, +heartless rake; that the story of the second suit of +clothes was a trumped-up fiction of her old lover’s.</p> + +<p>To the childish tale of the woman who had been seen +looking in the windows they paid no attention. Plenty +of people would have been glad to gape at the quality. +One by one they filed out into the next room, some pitying +even while they judged; others, a wife who could +kill her husband like a dog, needed nothing but justice!</p> + +<p>Lord Chayter moved to Lady Levallion’s side.</p> + +<p>“My dear child,” he said nervously, “no one believes +you did it,” but he knew he lied.</p> + +<p>She could not answer. She looked at the women who +had eaten her bread, and not one of them met her eyes; +looked at Tommy, at Houghton, at every soul but Adrian +Gordon, who stood apart in futile anger against every +one, himself included.</p> + +<p>“If it had not been for my alibi they would have +thought I did it,” he thought. “And now, because some +one is too clever for them, they’re putting it on her. +On Nel!” the horror of it made him quiver from head +to foot. “And I swore myself clear like a fool! No +wonder she won’t look at me. I’d have been hanged +before I did it, if I’d known! I wish to God I’d got here +at first,” and he turned his back flatly on a man who +was bold enough to come forward and greet him as Lord +Levallion.</p> + +<p>“Tommy,” said Houghton sharply, “take your sister +away!” He moved to Doctor Aston and laid a hand on +his sleeve.</p> + +<p>“Permit me to congratulate you on your methods of +conducting an inquest,” he said, and his low voice was +furious. “You are responsible for a damnably iniquitous +thing if they commit her to trial. Where was your +housemaid who gave that fool’s evidence, and when did +she give it? Not here, for I was your first witness.”</p> + +<p>“The second,” said Aston uncomfortably, knowing perfectly +well that to begin an inquiry with evidence like +that was simply making all subsequent testimony worthless, +in nine cases out of ten. “The girl was in the room +when you entered it. There she is now!”</p> + +<p>Houghton followed his eyes, and saw a pale, fat-faced +girl turning to follow her fellow servants from the room.</p> + +<p>“Find the man who that anemic, hysterical fool is in +love with before you go far on her evidence!” he observed +contemptuously. “Supposing it true, which I +don’t, you’d no right to begin the inquest with a biasing +fact like that. An astute man like you should know that +much.”</p> + +<p>“I had a right to conduct my inquest as I pleased!” +hotly. “If you must know, the girl was too terrified to +speak before the other servants. She came to me in +floods of tears. I believe it cost her honest pain to come +at all.”</p> + +<p>“Honest!” returned Houghton, as cold as the other was +hot. “Thanks to you and her——” He turned away +without finishing. Because he was convinced, without +any reason except a dogged belief in Levallion’s wife, +that she was innocent, gave him no hope of upsetting the +opposite conviction of a pigheaded man like Aston.</p> + +<p>He stood in silent, dogged endurance till, after an +interminable time of waiting, the jury filed in again. But +the end of the chairman’s speech made his heart turn +over.</p> + +<p>“Two attempts having been made to poison Lord Levallion, +both of which were in the power of one person +only, your jury are compelled to find a verdict of wilful +murder against Lady Levallion.”</p> + +<p>Houghton was poor; the wives and children of each +juryman were his patients; but he would not have cared +if they had been kings and queens.</p> + +<p>“Permit me to congratulate you on a crassly incapable +jury,” he said to the coroner. “And you, gentlemen, on +a piece of hasty iniquity that I pray you may never forget +till your dying day.”</p> + +<p>But his face was gray with despair as he went out +before they could answer him.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">A CLOUD OF BLOOD.</p> + + +<p>“Who’s to tell her?” Sir Thomas Annesley, Mr. +Jacobs at his heels, came flying into Levallion’s own den, +where something told him Houghton would be. But +there was another man beside Houghton, and the boy +drew back at the sight of him, just as the man started +forward.</p> + +<p>“Why are you here? Haven’t you done mischief +enough?” The young face was dreadful with its pinched +nostrils and red eyes. “If you’d never come here, she’d +never have come to this!”</p> + +<p>“It’s true enough,” said Adrian Gordon grimly, as +Houghton would have hushed the lad. “But, before God, +Tommy, I believe my being here had nothing to do with +it! I think you’ve got to look deeper than that for Levallion’s +death, and outside! It seems to me that my only +share in the business is to have made your sister a convenient +scapegoat. And God knows that’s black enough.”</p> + +<p>Tommy Annesley hid his face in his hands, and the +tears oozed through his fingers.</p> + +<p>“Don’t, lad, don’t!” said Houghton pitifully. “A coroner’s +inquest means very little. Please God, we’ll find +out who did it, long before the trial.”</p> + +<p>“That’s just it,” hoarsely. “The trial! She’s got to +stand up there innocent, and have the—every one”—desperately—“think +her guilty. Can’t you see, Houghton, +that every soul in the house has cleared themselves but +her?”</p> + +<p>“Every soul outside hasn’t, though,” Gordon said +slowly. “And any jury but a set of prejudiced fools +would have seen it.” He gently pushed away Jacobs, +who was slobbering at his knee.</p> + +<p>“Do you mean you know any one who was likely to +have done it—who hated Levallion?” said Houghton +bluntly.</p> + +<p>“There were plenty,” answered Gordon, as Lacy had +before him. “Who knows who that woman was who +was hanging about? Or the man Tommy thought was +I? And what became of those letters Lady Levallion +thought were in Levallion’s pocket? They’re a small +thing, perhaps, but suppose I hadn’t come down? Who +was going to know that card of mine asking her to +meet me wasn’t written that very morning? Whoever +took those letters meant it to seem so,” emphatically.</p> + +<p>“No one could have. Levallion—the body”—stammering—“was +never left alone till the coroner came.”</p> + +<p>“It was!” Tommy lifted his tear-stained face. +“Didn’t you know? When the coroner came there wasn’t +a soul in the room. You’d gone to Ravenel, the others +had cleared off to the smoking-room. It was I took +Aston in there, and the room was empty. Any one in the +house might have gone in there. The hall was full of +people, but there are three other doors to the drawing-room.”</p> + +<p>“And any one out of it,” Gordon added obstinately. +“Look here, Tommy, how could you think it was I +Jacobs flew at that night in the wood? See him!” for +Jacobs had lain down with his head on the speaker’s +boot.</p> + +<p>“It was the Norfolk jacket and the knickerbockers and +the height,” wretchedly. “The other men were in the +drawing-room—none of the servants were so tall—except +Carrousel—and he has a beard! This man had only a +mustache. I saw the line of his chin when he stood up +and yelled.”</p> + +<p>“As I should have been likely to yell on account of +Jacobs!” scornfully. “Why on earth didn’t you tell some +one what you saw, Tommy?”</p> + +<p>“I’d have only said it was you! I did try to tell Levallion, +but the second I spoke about the woman he shut +me up. Lacy was there; Levallion never talked before +servants. Oh!” he broke off wildly, “what’s the good +of talking? Some one must go and tell Ravenel. Will +they take her—to jail—till the assizes?” A hard sob +broke his words.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know,” Houghton muttered. “Perhaps bail”—but +he knew quite well there was no bail for murder. +He got up, for the boy was right. Some one must tell +Lady Levallion.</p> + +<p>“Damn that housemaid!” he broke out fiercely, standing +with his hand on the door.</p> + +<p>“Look here,” said Gordon quickly, “wait a moment. +Don’t say anything like that outside; don’t say a word to +frighten any of the servants.”</p> + +<p>“Why?” Houghton looked at him without too much +favor. He had certainly had nothing to do with the +crime, but his stay in the house had every day added +one to the letters that spelled “murderess” after Lady +Levallion’s name.</p> + +<p>“Because they’ve all given their evidence; they’re quite +comfortable about none of them being implicated. They’ll +talk among themselves and compare notes, and they may +find out something. I sha’n’t allow one of them to +leave.”</p> + +<p>Houghton realized suddenly that it was the new Lord +Levallion who stood before him.</p> + +<p>“I forgot,” he said involuntarily, “you are master here +now.”</p> + +<p>“And I’d rather be a one-armed sandwich-man!” returned +Adrian Gordon, with a bitter glance at the injured +arm that had kept him in Levallion’s house. And +the memory of that day brought back something; the +unknown woman who had come to see if he were dead. +There was only one woman in the world who could hope, +however falsely, to gain by his dying.</p> + +<p>“Hester Murray!” he thought sharply. “But of all +women on earth she would be the least likely to be here. +Levallion wouldn’t have had it.” And yet the thought +clung obstinately.</p> + +<p>“I’ll find out,” he said aloud, and Tommy looked up +where he sat wan and exhausted.</p> + +<p>“What?” he demanded. “I don’t see how any one can +find out anything. We know all anybody knows.”</p> + +<p>“We know all some one chooses us to know,” hardly. +“We’re not beaten yet. Try and remember what that +woman looked like whom Levallion told you was a +kitchen-maid.”</p> + +<p>“How do I know?” wretchedly. “I only saw her twice; +both times it was dark. She had a cloak on with a +hood, and was holding up a train. She may live right +under our noses.”</p> + +<p>“All the same, she’s our only chance.”</p> + +<p>He shivered, and stirred the fire. For if he were +wrong and that cloaked woman not Hester Murray, the +chance was small. Beat his brains as he would, he could +think of no one else who might profit by the death of +Lord Levallion.</p> + +<p>The clock struck six, and, like a blow, the sound struck +on his heart, making him forget everything but the girl +up-stairs. Houghton must be with her now; must be +telling her what the jury had said. Houghton, an absolute +stranger—while the man who should have been her +husband dared not go near her; the man who should +have sheltered her from all the world could do nothing +but sit helpless while some one else spoke the very bitterest +shame on earth in her ears.</p> + +<p>“Nel, my Nel!” And if Adrian Gordon was silent, his +spirits groaned within him.</p> + +<p>Sylvia Annesley and her schemes had come between +them once; then Levallion; and now, to the eyes of the +world, a bar of blood they could not pass.</p> + +<p>“Blood between us; love, my love!” the man said silently, +behind his shut teeth. “Not while I’m alive or +there’s a God above us. Somehow, somewhere, I mean +to find the truth that’s going to set you clear—and clean! +If I dare not go to you I can work for you; and if I +can’t comfort you”—unconsciously he raised his right +hand as some men do when they take an oath—“I’ll save +you, if I have to take you out of Newgate!”</p> + +<p>He raised his eyes and saw Houghton had come back.</p> + +<p>“Well?” he said thickly.</p> + +<p>“Very ill.” Houghton cast himself into a chair as if +he could do no more. “She knew! That fool of a +housemaid ran up screaming and told her, begging her +to forgive her—if they hanged her! The French maid +took the crazy fool by the ears and put her out. But——”</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders helplessly.</p> + +<p>“What’s she doing—Ravenel?” Tommy was on his +feet, pale as Levallion up-stairs.</p> + +<p>“Nothing! Just sitting there like death. Go to her +and see if you can make her cry. I couldn’t make her +even seem to hear me.”</p> + +<p>As the door closed behind the boy, Houghton turned to +Adrian.</p> + +<p>“It was to say good-by I sent him,” he said drearily. +“The warrant has come to arrest her.”</p> + +<p>“She sha’n’t go!” cried Gordon blackly; but he knew +he was talking nonsense.</p> + +<p>“There’s no choice! To-morrow you may—if you +move heaven and earth and the stars in their course”—bitterly—“be +able to bail her out again.”</p> + +<p>He turned to the window because there were tears in +his eyes, and so did not see that every trace of humanity +had been wiped out of Adrian Gordon’s countenance, as +in a voice the like of which Doctor Houghton had never +heard, he called down the wrath of God on Levallion’s +secret murderer.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">A BAD MOVE.</p> + + +<p>Two days afterward the great gates of Levallion Castle +were opened wide to let out the funeral of the man +who had been poisoned in his own house. Behind the +hearse, before the long rows of country neighbors who +came because they must and the flocking poor who came +because the dead man had been good to them, walked +the new Lord Levallion as chief mourner—and people +stared as they saw Sir Thomas Annesley walking at his +side. Sir Thomas, whose sister was a murderess, and +lying in jail awaiting her committal for trial at the assizes.</p> + +<p>“I wonder the boy can hold up,” said Lord Chayter to +his companion. “I honestly believe she didn’t do it, +though!” But when asked who did, he was silent.</p> + +<p>Long and speechlessly the new Lord Levallion stood +by his cousin’s grave. If there were men who would +have spoken to him they dared not do it, so hard and +hostile was his face. He turned without seeming to see +his neighbors or the parson at his elbow; and to the +surprise of every one drove off in the opposite direction +from Levallion Castle.</p> + +<p>He was not needed there, Levallion’s lawyer was in +charge, and would remain so till it pleased Adrian Gordon +to come back. There was no will to read, nothing to +keep the heir from taking up his immediate residence. +Except that his wife’s settlements and jointure were secured +to her. Lord Levallion had arranged nothing. +That consolation legacy to Adrian had never been made—or +needed.</p> + +<p>But all that was the last thing in Adrian’s head as he +drove to the station from that ghastliest thing on earth, +the funeral of a murdered man.</p> + +<p>In the last two days he had ransacked the village, but +of a Mrs. Murray no one had ever heard. The landlord +of the raw new bungalows had gone away; the caretaker +gave a description of Miss Brown, the defaulting +tenant, which did not tally in any respect with Hester +Murray, except that Miss Brown had yellow hair.</p> + +<p>Bad as Hester might be, he had never known her to +drink; and the village girl who had waited on the tenant +of the bungalow swore that two days out of three her +mistress would drink herself into a heavy sleep. She +said, also, that Miss Brown never left the house except +to go into the garden; that at night, from her cottage +near-by—for she had never slept in the house—she +had always seen the drawing-room lit up till all hours. +And it was clear her story was true, for none of the village +people had ever laid eyes on the levanting tenant +during all the three months she had lived in the bungalow.</p> + +<p>“That disposes of Hester,” Adrian said to himself. +“She could never have lived cooped up like that. She’d +have scoured the country for exercise.”</p> + +<p>Levallion’s lawyer, too, poohpoohed the idea, as he +furnished Mrs. Murray’s present address in London.</p> + +<p>“She could not have been here, or his lordship would +have mentioned it in his instructions to me. I was to +pay quarterly to her account in the Starr Street branch +of Lloyd’s Bank, five hundred a year, so long as she observed +his lordship’s conditions of never going within +a hundred miles of any of his country houses, or approaching +him or his wife in any way, personally or by +letters. I received those instructions one morning, and +the next had a letter from Mrs. Murray herself, from +a London address and posted in London. I think you +may set aside all thought of her having been down here. +Lord Levallion would have made no terms with her in +that case, I am convinced. Three days afterward she +drew her money and I made it my business to ascertain +her whereabouts. She and her boy were at the address +she had written from—Starr Street, Paddington.”</p> + +<p>And to Starr Street Adrian was going, in hopes that +if Hester Murray and the woman Tommy had seen were +one and the same, he could terrify it out of her. For he +owed her a long score.</p> + +<p>It was pouring rain and pitch-dark when he found +her number in the shabby street, a strange dwelling for +a woman who had had the best house in Eaton Place. +If he had any thought that she would not see him, he +was mistaken; for he had barely entered the sordid lodging-house +sitting-room when she came in, small, pretty, +dainty as usual, but with something so unaccustomed in +her dress that he started.</p> + +<p>“Adrian!” she said prettily. “This is kind of you,” and +she pretended not to see that he made no motion to take +her outstretched hand. She sat down, not sure what +had brought him, his own business or another’s. In spite +of herself, her heart thumped.</p> + +<p>“I didn’t come to be kind,” he said coolly. “But +what’s the matter with you? Is Murray dead?” For she +was dressed in new widow’s mourning, incongruously +expensive for 15 Starr Street.</p> + +<p>“No,” she answered quietly. “Levallion! And I—loved +him.”</p> + +<p>Some emotion she could not control convulsed her +face.</p> + +<p>“Your truthfulness with him showed it!” brutally. +“But I fail to see why you wear widow’s weeds.”</p> + +<p>“Because, in my own eyes, I am his widow,” she said. +“You know that! Have you come here to insult me +when I am heart-broken—or why?”</p> + +<p>And to his astounding eyes there were the ravages of +fearful grief in her face. But he was in no mood for +pity.</p> + +<p>“How dared you tell Lady Levallion, before her marriage,” +he said—and it was not what she had expected—“that +‘Mrs. Gordon’ was my wife?”</p> + +<p>“Because Sylvia Annesley made me, threatened me. +And I did it in ignorance. If I had known what I was +doing, do you think I would have stirred a finger to help +Levallion to marry—to marry!” bitterly.</p> + +<p>“I suppose not. Well, it’s some small comfort to think +you ruined yourself! Were you trying to undo your +work by passing yourself off as Miss Brown, at Levallion?”</p> + +<p>But the sudden question never jarred her; she had +been ready for it, since, for all she knew, Levallion +might have told him. Her wide eyes opened innocently +as she stared at him, and all the while it was sweeping +over her acute brain that he was speaking by guesswork.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what you mean!” she cried, in her clear, +high voice. “I know nothing about any Miss Brown.”</p> + +<p>“Will you come down there and tell the caretaker you +don’t?” quietly.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Hester Murray, just as quietly; “if you +can make me understand what you mean. Caretaker of +what? and what has he to do with me? I have not been +at Levallion Castle for three years, and you know it.”</p> + +<p>“You’ve been living within a mile of it all summer!”</p> + +<p>Pale as a sheet, she stood up in front of him.</p> + +<p>“Are you mad?” she said. “Would I—I that he discarded, +shamed, ruined, go near him and his new—wife? +Whoever your Miss Brown was, she was not I! I’ve +been ill, poor, starving, nearly dying, till Levallion heard +of it and sent me money.”</p> + +<p>“Have you been here all summer, then?” unconvinced.</p> + +<p>He terrified her till she could scarcely answer him, and +if she did not satisfy him she was ruined. She shook +her head.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been in France, Boulogne,” she said. “In a +pension; you can write and ask them.” And thanked +Heaven she dared to play the desperate card, though +only yesterday she had loathed the means that put it into +her hand.</p> + +<p>“Day before yesterday—the last few days?” doggedly.</p> + +<p>“I’ve been here. Oh, Adrian! Why are you asking +me such questions? If I had been at Levallion, could I +have stayed away from—him?”</p> + +<p>Her low, broken voice, her puzzled misery, were perfect; +and yet the man disbelieved in her because he knew +her to be a liar.</p> + +<p>“Do you expect me to believe it was not you who lived +at Levallion, in that bungalow behind the village, all +summer?” he said. “Because I think it was.”</p> + +<p>“It was not I. And if it had been, it is none of your +affair.”</p> + +<p>Her change of tone startled him. He did not realize +he had made a mistake when he said “think,” instead of +“know.”</p> + +<p>“Here,” she said, and she wrote an address on a bit +of paper. “Write to Boulogne and ask. And now tell +me what your Miss Brown has been doing that you should +think I was she?”</p> + +<p>Her face was haggard as she waited for the answer, +yet something in it warned Gordon that to answer her +would be sheer madness.</p> + +<p>“Hester,” he said quietly, “has it occurred to you that +it is I now who am Lord Levallion? What do you expect +me to do about your allowance?”</p> + +<p>Something cunning flashed into her eyes, and was gone.</p> + +<p>“I have not asked you for money,” she returned. +“And—I don’t think I will.”</p> + +<p>“If you want it, you had better stay here till you hear +from me. Do you understand?”</p> + +<p>“Unless you hear from me—first,” she said slowly. +And he could not understand the mixture of triumph and +fright that was in her face.</p> + +<p>“What do you mean? You’re powerless,” he cried +sharply.</p> + +<p>“Yes.” And for his life he did not know whether it +was an assent or a question. He caught back the threat +that was on his lips and went out.</p> + +<p>In the street he called himself every sort of fool. As +if it had been written on the black, rainy sky, he saw +that he had betrayed his suspicion of her and she had +cleared herself and then defied him. He had accomplished +absolutely nothing of what he meant to do.</p> + +<p>“She means mischief,” he said to the depths of his +umbrella. “She’s going to do something.”</p> + +<p>But just what Mrs. Murray had in her power never +entered his brain.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">A TRIVIAL INCIDENT.</p> + + +<p>Lady Levallion had been committed for trial at the +assizes, and, as Houghton had foreseen, was refused bail.</p> + +<p>In the county jail at Valehampton she must stay alone, +comfortless—a girl of nineteen; must be a month away +from liberty and free air before her trial. Of after that +Houghton dared not think. He worked wonders for her +comfort, though, and instead of a cell she had a room, +plain and bare, but still a room. Yet it seemed prisonlike +enough to Sir Thomas Annesley, when at last he had +leave to go and see her.</p> + +<p>Door after door was unlocked and locked behind him; +corridor after corridor sickened him with its cold smell +of carbolic acid, till at last he stood in the small room +that was properly part of the jail infirmary, and heard +its iron door click behind his heels.</p> + +<p>“Tommy!” she cried, incredulous, rapturous, though +she had known he was coming.</p> + +<p>But the boy could not answer; could only cling to +her, trying to choke back his pitiful sobbing against her +shoulder. For he had seen her face, and knew a little, +just a little, of what her days and nights must have +been.</p> + +<p>“Don’t cry, darling!” she whispered, as though it +had been he and not she that was in peril of life. “Oh, +Tommy, I thought I would die for want of you!”</p> + +<p>“They wouldn’t let me come.” He lifted his head. +“Who’s that?” he cried sharply. For a woman was +sewing by the window.</p> + +<p>“The matron,” softly. “Did you think they’d let you +see me alone?”</p> + +<p>The woman looked up.</p> + +<p>“Don’t mind me, sir!” she cried, her hard face very +gentle. “I’ll not heed anything you say.”</p> + +<p>For Houghton, by good luck, was the prison doctor, +and she believed in him as in the four Gospels.</p> + +<p>“She’s been very good to me,” Ravenel said gratefully, +and the matron smiled, but her eyes were wet. For, if +Lady Levallion were innocent ten times over, she could +not prove it. And the matron’s only daughter who died +would have been just the age now of this girl, who presently +would be tried for murder. She moved to the farthest +limit of the room as the brother and sister sat down +on the bed.</p> + +<p>“Are you well, Tommy?” Ravenel whispered. “You +look so thin!”</p> + +<p>“Never mind me; I’m all right.” He grabbed at her +hand. “I can only stay half an hour. Tell me, can’t you +think of anything I don’t know?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing,” deliberately. For once having perjured +herself because she had seen a flying glimpse of a man +she thought was Adrian, there was nothing to do but +stick by it. If she had been certain he was in London, +she could have told the truth; but yet it would have +helped her very little in face of those two bottles.</p> + +<p>“You’ve seen your lawyer?”</p> + +<p>She nodded. There had been little enough in that +clever man’s face to reassure her.</p> + +<p>“Don’t fret,” she said slowly. “There are three weeks +before I—my trial.”</p> + +<p>“And so far we haven’t found out one thing,” he said, +and hid his face again.</p> + +<p>“I’ve thought of something, though it can’t help me,” +she began, smoothing the boy’s rough hair. “The Umbrella, +Tommy! She didn’t send for me to tell me about +that old story of Sylvia. She sent for me to warn me +about Levallion. I feel it, and he did, too; else why did +he say, before he died: ‘We should have gone’?”</p> + +<p>“But the Umbrella’s dead. We’ll never know.”</p> + +<p>“No! But if she knew something, some one else may. +It’s sure to come out.”</p> + +<p>“But if it doesn’t?” he gasped.</p> + +<p>A dreadful shudder took her. To die, with a rope +around her neck, in a prison-yard!</p> + +<p>“Pray it will!” she cried. “Oh, Tommy, I know you’d +help me if you could! But if you can’t, pretend it’s all +right. It’s the only thing you can do for me. I—I’ve got +to be brave!”</p> + +<p>The boy sat up, but he did not look at her.</p> + +<p>“Look here,” he said; “what do you think about Gordon?”</p> + +<p>“He didn’t do it!” quickly; for all her pains, joyfully.</p> + +<p>“No! I don’t mean that. But if he wants to help you, +why doesn’t he come back to Levallion Castle and watch +those servants? He’s vanished, clean gone. Went to +London the day of the funeral, and nobody knows where +he is.”</p> + +<p>“He couldn’t help me,” loyally. “Those servants know +no more than they said.” But her heart sank in her. +Was it possible that he did not care? And yet it had not +been so much for Adrian’s sake as for Levallion’s that +she had lied at the inquest. No one should be able to +say that one of the dead man’s own blood had murdered +him because he had loved his wife.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps not! But Gordon ought to be there,” gruffly.</p> + +<p>“Are you there?” she asked.</p> + +<p>“Where can I go?” miserably. “I’ve no money. If I +had I couldn’t leave you.”</p> + +<p>“Adrian will look after you.” She hesitated, for she +had a dim idea that if they hanged her the crown would +take her jointure.</p> + +<p>“I wouldn’t take his money. It was all his!” bitterly.</p> + +<p>“It was all Sylvia.” For the first time she had color in +her face. “Oh, don’t hark back to it, Tommy! Levallion +was kind to us; and some one killed him for it.”</p> + +<p>The door swung back heavily.</p> + +<p>“Time’s up, sir,” said the warden.</p> + +<p>It did not seem five minutes, but it was nearer forty +than thirty.</p> + +<p>“I’ll come,” said Sir Thomas Annesley, and he looked +ten years older. “Ravenel, I nearly forgot. The duchess +wrote to me. She’s coming here, to Valehampton, to be +near you. She’ll come here as often as they’ll let her.”</p> + +<p>“I’m glad,” simply. “But I think I only want you.” +(And one other, whose hand she would never touch again +in life!)</p> + +<p>She sat down, tearless. One breath, of all the world +she could have hidden her face against; one strong shoulder +would have known her tears. But between Adrian +Gordon and her was a deep gulf set: a gulf of blood that +cried aloud.</p> + +<p>But Tommy Annesley was blind with tears as he drove +the long ten miles between Valehampton and Levallion +Castle. It was bitter work to stay there eating Adrian’s +bread; but he could not go away.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps the duchess will take me with her,” he +thought, “till——” But even to himself he could not +finish. When the trial was over it was not likely that +Tommy Annesley would have overmuch care for what +happened. He would get away, he and Jacobs, from +every soul who had known him—would work, somehow, +for his living. A lump rose in his throat as he walked +into the broad hall of Levallion Castle, all soft firelight +and welcome, and thought of its mistress sitting on her +pallet bed in Valehampton Jail.</p> + +<p>Tea was waiting, but he could not swallow it. He flew +out into the desolate, twilit garden, and rambled aimlessly, +he hardly saw where. Jacobs, for once, was not +with him; all alone, his hands in his pockets, his slow +feet silent on the frozen grass, Sir Thomas walked mechanically, +racking his brain to no purpose over that +mysterious man and woman the detectives had been unable +to trace.</p> + +<p>He might have racked his brain still harder if he had +known the reason of the silence that reigned concerning +them. In Adrian’s theory about the absconding tenant +of the bungalow, no one believed at all. Arlington’s man +had been almost openly unbelieving about dragging a +strange woman into the case, and the prosecution merely +smiled at the idea of there being any mystery whatever, +thanks to that hasty evidence of Sir Thomas Annesley’s. +It was all very well for him to believe he had made a +mistake; no one else did. In the eyes of the world, those +two people who drank champagne in a wood had been +Captain Gordon and Lady Levallion, since the only man +who could have sworn to her whereabouts was dead!</p> + +<p>“If I only could think of something!” the boy mused +desperately, and stopped short at a queer sound.</p> + +<p>He had wandered into the dark kitchen-garden, behind +a row of deserted potting sheds; and from them came +a sound exactly like the beating of carpets. It was no +concern of Tommy’s, though the hour was a queer one, +and he was moving on when a pitiful moaning like a +dog being beaten to death made him jump. His thoughts +flew to the absent Jacobs, and the cook who had a grudge +against him.</p> + +<p>Silent, with flying feet, Tommy ran to the back of the +shed, full of fury. But as he paused by the latticed, +glassless window at the back of it, he knew it was no +dog which was concerned in the carpet-beating, but a boy.</p> + +<p>“Don’t! don’t!” he was crying. “I won’t go away. +I’ll stay with you. I’ll do whatever you say!”</p> + +<p>The sound of blows ceased.</p> + +<p>“That is a sensible, amiable boy!” said a voice, and it +was the chef’s. “And you will say to the world that you +love me—that there was never any one like me, eh?”</p> + +<p>The boy groaned.</p> + +<p>“Yes!”</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas heard the whistle of a stick uplifted.</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes! Don’t hit me.”</p> + +<p>“It is for your good that I break the bones in your +skin,” returned Carrousel. “We shall hear no more of +this running away?”</p> + +<p>“No,” in exhausted sobs. “I’ll stay. I’ll do whatever +you tell me. I——”</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas bounced round the corner of the shed.</p> + +<p>“What the devil’s this?” he said fiercely, and a lighted +match flickered in his hand.</p> + +<p>There was Carrousel, his face like a devil’s, grasping +a heavy stick, and on the mud floor the boot-boy, quivering +with pain. The match went out.</p> + +<p>“How dare you beat the boy like that?” cried Tommy. +“I’ll have you up for assault.”</p> + +<p>“He disobeyed me, refused to do his work.”</p> + +<p>In the dark Carrousel’s boot grazed the boy’s ribs. +“Did you not, eh?”</p> + +<p>“Yes.” The answer was little better than a moan.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see what a cook has to do with blacking +boots!” angrily. “And if he disobeyed you a dozen times, +you’ve no right to beat him like this.”</p> + +<p>“He runs my errands,” said Carrousel sullenly. “He +would not do his work; he played, idled.”</p> + +<p>“You get out of this and let him alone,” authoritatively. +“And if I catch you at this again I’ll have you +arrested. Go now, sharp! My dog’ll be here in a minute,” +significantly.</p> + +<p>“You threaten me—intimidate?” In the dark Carrousel’s +face was not pretty. But like lightning he +changed his tone.</p> + +<p>“I regret if you think the punishment too severe. The +boy—earned it!” He spoke like oil, and in the dark +stooped and whispered two words in the boot-boy’s ear.</p> + +<p>“Clear out!” Tommy stamped his foot, unconscious of +that whisper. “Get back to your pots and pans, or I’ll +have you driven there. Jacobs! Hi, Jacobs!” he yelled.</p> + +<p>But Monsieur Carrousel was gone.</p> + +<p>Tommy stooped over the boot-boy.</p> + +<p>“Why did you let him beat you like that?” he said. +“Why didn’t you yell?”</p> + +<p>But he got no answer. Another match flickered in the +shed. Towers, the boot-boy, was lying on his face, shaking +with sobs.</p> + +<p>“See here,” said Tommy, “don’t! Here’s half a crown +for you”—his last coin—“if you couldn’t fight that +beast why didn’t you complain if he ill-treated you? Has +he done it before?”</p> + +<p>No answer.</p> + +<p>“Well,” disgustedly, “if you won’t tell, I shall! I’ll +have Carrousel hauled up.”</p> + +<p>Towers said something; caught at Tommy in the dark, +as if to stop him.</p> + +<p>“Don’t!” he gasped. “Don’t sir! He’d kill me.”</p> + +<p>“Rot! He couldn’t. What’s the matter with him? +Has he got anything against you—why are you afraid of +him?”</p> + +<p>“I am not afraid. He is kind to me. I will go with +him if he leaves this place.”</p> + +<p>Tommy drew a long breath. The short sentences had +come out in the singsong whine of the village school, +exactly as if they had been learned by rote.</p> + +<p>“Then you must be a fool!” he observed candidly. “Do +you mean you don’t want me to complain of the beast?”</p> + +<p>Towers said no, still in that unnatural voice.</p> + +<p>“Go back to the house and wash your face!” the other +boy, who was but four years older, advised. “And if he +beats you again, you come to me, and I’ll settle him.”</p> + +<p>Towers’ teeth chattered.</p> + +<p>“I made him angry,” he said, shivering. “I won’t do +it again. Don’t say anything, sir; oh, please!”</p> + +<p>“All right,” disgustedly. “If you like being pounded, +it’s no concern of mine!” and, being cold, he assisted the +boot-boy to his feet and departed.</p> + +<p>“Carrousel did look a devil!” he thought. “But the +boy seems half-witted. Yet——”</p> + +<p>He stopped short in the dark.</p> + +<p>“Cooky looked as if he would kill him!” he gasped. +“I wonder if—but it couldn’t be. But if I could think +it, I—I’d make him swing.”</p> + +<p>He ran to the house as hard as he could go. For the +first time he had “thought of something.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Arlington,” he cried, bursting in on the lawyer +where he sat toiling over bundles of Levallion’s neglected +and unopened letters in the hope of finding some clue to +some one who had a grudge against him. “Do you know +Captain Gordon’s address?” For reasons of his own he +said nothing about that trivial incident in the garden.</p> + +<p>“No!” slowly. “Lord Levallion’s, you mean? I’ve +never heard one word from him.”</p> + +<p>The boy’s flushed face paled.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">LEVALLION’S HEIR.</p> + + +<p>Adrian Gordon had ample reason for giving no address. +He had wanted to sink like a stone in London, +and he had done it.</p> + +<p>Moving slowly away in the rain and darkness from +that worse than useless visit to Hester Murray—which, +now that his blood was cool, he saw had only served to +warn her of his thoughts, and had not intimidated her +in the least—a sudden thought came over him also. A +mad one, perhaps, but irresistible. If Hester had not +been able to profit by the live Levallion, it seemed out of +question she should by the dead one. Yet, perfect actress +as she was, he felt that the woman was triumphant, +in spite of the marks of deadly grief on her face.</p> + +<p>“I believe it was she, in spite of that pension at Boulogne!” +he said to himself. “As for the man Tommy +saw with her, if it were Hester he saw, I don’t think he +counts. Goodness knows what her little amusements +may have been at night, if she were cooped up all day, +as that girl said Miss Brown was!”</p> + +<p>He looked round the wet street. It was not two hundred +yards from Paddington station. He could get a +train at any hour for Levallion Castle if he needed to.</p> + +<p>“I’ll try it, anyhow!” he thought, and, not being as +shrewd as Levallion, it never occurred to him that the +very nearness of Paddington station, where it was so +easy to come and go from Levallion, had brought Hester +Murray to Starr Street.</p> + +<p>In the dull, rainy gaslight the new Lord Levallion—who +had winced when some one called him by his title—retraced +his steps, crossed the street. There, in number +fourteen, diagonally opposite fifteen, was a transparent +red-glass sign—“Lodgings.” And lodging-letting was +Starr Street’s means of existence, as a stroll down it +showed him.</p> + +<p>He rang at number fourteen, and, when he came +away after a short colloquy with a frowsy woman, he +went no farther than the great thoroughfare round the +corner, where a ready-made clothing shop swallowed +him up. Ten minutes later a man with a new portmanteau, +containing the toilet things he had not thought +necessary to bring for a half-hour’s visit to London, and +a cheap suit of dittoes, returned to fourteen Starr Street. +The neglected door opened, closed on him. The red sign +of lodgings still hung in the ground-floor window, because +there was still a spare room in the house, and +Hester Murray saw it as she went to bed, saw it without +thinking of it, as she had seen it every night since she +came.</p> + +<p>“Fool!” she thought. “But he always was.” Yet her +lips were white, even as she remembered she had had +the best of her discomfited visitor. For five minutes that +she would never forget till her dying day, she had +thought he knew something, and was come to tell her so. +But as she looked at him she knew he was talking by +guesswork. And she was able to combat more than guesswork.</p> + +<p>“Well, he’s gone, thank goodness!” she said, aloud—and +if Hester Murray thanked goodness there was no +one to see the awful insolence of it. “I don’t suppose +he’s been reading the papers lately! And even if he had +he might not have thought anything.”</p> + +<p>She shaded her candle with her hand, and went into +the next room. A boy lay there in bed, a handsome +child of ten, with something in his sleeping face that +made her quiver and turn ghastly in the candle-light.</p> + +<p>“God, how like he is!” she muttered. “I didn’t—I +didn’t do it. If the worst came to the worst I could +swear that.” She swallowed something in her throat. “I +was treated like a dog,” she gasped. “I was driven. But +I can swear I never did it. Oh, I mustn’t think of it! +I’d break down. I’ve got to fight—for Adrian.”</p> + +<p>For that sleeping child’s name was Adrian, too. But +the very thought of what she was going to fight seemed +to paralyze her, the danger of it, the—— She put down +the candle, knelt with passion beside the child.</p> + +<p>“I’ll do it for you!” she said deliberately. And put +away from her the thought that if she had been a driven, +desperate woman a week ago, she was more so now by a +hundredfold, and with a harder taskmaster behind her. +When she got up her face was steady.</p> + +<p>“It’s lucky I’d got back when he came!” she thought, +harking back to Adrian Gordon. “Otherwise there might +have been questions to the landlady. But all she knew +was that for two or three nights I dined out, and came +home in a hansom at half-past twelve. Even that she +might not know, because of my latch-key. I’d better go +to bed. I must look decent to-morrow. I wish I hadn’t +had to let him write to Boulogne—but there—I’m safe +through it.” And it was odd she did not remember that +five minutes before she had assured herself that she was +guiltless, and safe in any case.</p> + +<p>The neighbor she knew nothing of had certainly not +been reading the papers, and if he had, might very well +have overlooked the small print, unimportant paragraph +about a man named Murray having been run over in the +street, while the worse for drinking, and taken to Guy’s +Hospital. But from Guy’s Hospital Mrs. Murray had +not long returned when he paid his foolish visit to her. +It was long after visiting-hours, but Hester was a pretty +woman still. The house surgeon had seen her, and told +her that there was small chance for the man she asked +for.</p> + +<p>“He may linger one day, perhaps two,” he said. “But +in all probability he’ll never be conscious, and he can’t recover. +Was he,” marveling, “a relation?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, no!” said the woman in the faultless widow’s +weeds prettily. “Only a—a sort of protégé. He had +come down in the world.”</p> + +<p>The surgeon thought that was a mild way of describing +the sodden, dying wretch up-stairs.</p> + +<p>The woman who had lived with poor Bob Murray for +years drove away with a lightened spirit. That which +she had to do was robbed of half its peril since he was +dying, was practically dead. If he had been alive and +well, it would have had to be done just the same, if she +cared to live in this world at all; but the doing of it +might have been all but impossible. Now her safety +lay almost in her hand. She slept that night.</p> + +<p>Mr. Atkinson—it was the name of the ready-made +clothing shop, and had seemed less like an alias than +Smith or Brown—the new lodger at number fourteen, +informed his landlady that he was an invalid. His +drawn face confirmed him, and his occupation of sitting +all day by the window and never going out was accounted +for.</p> + +<p>Morning and evening he read the papers. The rest +of the day he never took his eyes off Mrs. Murray’s house—and +all he got for his pains was to see her go out and +in quietly, sometimes alone, sometimes with that boy, +whose face was so like another face. She never had +a visitor, man or woman, and certainly if Miss Brown +had been described as being given to drink, Mrs. Murray +was not. Pale, dainty, mournful, she came and went; +and if he had had a purpose in watching her he thought +it a mad dream as the days flew by. A whole week and +he saw nothing; a night when he slipped out to his own +rooms, in Charles Street, and came back with a letter +from Boulogne, that he had not dared sign Atkinson. +And the letter gave him no shred of hope that Hester +had lied to him. It was in a man’s hand, short and businesslike.</p> + +<p>“Madam Murray, the friend after whom he asked, had +certainly spent the summer at the Pension Bocaze, which +she had left, indeed, not ten days ago. The writer was +unable to supply her present address.”</p> + +<p>It was signed Jean-Paul Berthier. And on inquiry it +was no pleasure to Adrian Gordon to find that Jean-Paul +Berthier and the pension were well, and reputably +enough, known in Boulogne.</p> + +<p>“Hester is out of it,” he said to himself. Yet he lingered +another week in his sordid lodgings, among smells +of bad cooking. It was madness, perhaps time wasted, +when there was but a fortnight now to Valehampton Assizes, +where the woman he loved would be tried for her +life. Yet haggard-eyed, worn to a shadow, Adrian Gordon +still sat peering through his half-closed shutters; +still searched the papers for he knew not what. Perhaps +a tramp dying in a workhouse, a swell mobman arrested +and turning queen’s evidence. It began to enter his +head that he might do that equally well at Levallion +Castle; began to rend his soul from his body to stay +away from Ravenel. But he knew, perhaps, it would +be madness to go to see her, considering the part he must +bear in the circumstantial evidence that lied and yet was +true; for he stayed on.</p> + +<p>And one wet, ghastly evening he flung down the <i>Star</i>, +and then caught it up again. With blazing eyes he read a +long article.</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>“A curious thing has come to light in connection with +the late Lord Levallion, whose tragic and mysterious +death lately horrified all Valeshire. It seems that the +heir, Captain Gordon, of the —— Hussars, who has so +far taken no steps toward assuming the title, will have +difficulty in making good his claim to it.</p> + +<p>“A claimant has arisen in London, a lady formerly +well and honorably known as Mrs. Murray, of Eaton +Place, who curiously enough declares that she is the only +person having any right to the title of Countess of +Levallion, and that her son, formerly known as Adrian +Gordon Murray, is the only child of the dead peer.</p> + +<p>“The story is a sad, and also an involved one. It +seems that Mrs. Murray, to give her the name by which +the best society in London knew her, was married at the +age of seventeen to a man of bad reputation, named +John Davidge. He treated her cruelly, and then deserted +her in Nice after two years of wretchedness. She had +no children, and, being bitterly poor, became <i>dame du +comptoir</i> in a cheap restaurant, where Mr. Murray, her +supposed husband, saw and fell madly in love with her. +She had some reason to think Davidge dead, and decided +that in any case he had no claim on her. She married +Murray, he being under the impression she was a single +woman, which her age and looks made likely. For a +year the two lived on the Continent, apparently in perfect +amity, till—and here comes the gist of the story—Mrs. +Murray was obliged to go suddenly to England to see +about a small legacy that had been left her.</p> + +<p>“Between Paris and London she made the acquaintance +of the late Lord Levallion, and from her own story +seems to have fallen passionately in love with him, utterly +forgetful of Mr. Murray, whom she had left at Pau, +suffering from a bad attack of influenza. At all events, +she never mentioned his existence to Lord Levallion, but +gave him her true name of Davidge. The legacy which +was left to her in that name bore her out, as none of her +relatives had ever heard of her second marriage. And +Davidge, Lord Levallion had seen stabbed in a scandalous +quarrel in a house in Paris. <i>De Mortuis nil nisi +bonum</i>, notwithstanding, it may be said that the late peer +was catholic in his haunts and his acquaintances.</p> + +<p>“At all events, in 1889, the marriage of Hester Davidge +and Lord Levallion took place at the registrar’s +office in Islington, but the bride, with excellent reasons, +refused to have it made public, and went abroad with +him under the name of Mrs. Gordon, by which surname +he also called himself. Needless to say the bride was +anxious to avoid France and Mr. Murray, although assured +he could have no claim on her. And she also never +allowed Lord Levallion to introduce or mention her to +any friends whom he encountered, giving as an excuse +that she was in delicate health and fanciful.</p> + +<p>“In 1890 her son was born, at Vevay, where he was +christened and registered as Adrian Gordon, Lord Valehampton, +Levallion’s second title, and described as the +only son of Adrian Gordon, Lord Levallion, and his wife. +And at Vevay the bubble burst. Murray, by some trick +of fate, came face to face with the pair; claimed and denounced +his wife, and, to her surprise, had discovered +that she had been not only his wife, but Davidge’s.</p> + +<p>“Lord Levallion was furiously angry. There is no +doubt that he would have thrown her back on Murray’s +hands if it had been possible. But at first it was not. +Davidge had been undoubtedly alive at the time of Mrs. +Gordon’s supposed marriage with Murray, and as undoubtedly +dead when she secretly became Lady Levallion. +But Murray, and witnesses far more reputable, swore +that Davidge had not died, but recovered; was alive in +New York at that present moment.</p> + +<p>“Lord Levallion seems to have been utterly mortified +at his position, for his shrewdness, pride, and acumen +were well known. But, in spite of his just anger, it seems +that he was still infatuated with his supposed wife, who +was heart-broken at the wreck of her life and the illegitimacy +of her boy. Those, at least, are the only grounds +on which his subsequent and utterly unjustifiable conduct +can be explained. He calmly relinquished his pseudo +bride to Murray, whose right, if no better, was at least a +prior one, and returned to England. Mrs. Murray, +to give her the name by which she has since been known, +persuaded Murray to forgive and take her back again. +She also swore that her son was his child, which was +possible, and informed Murray that Levallion had forced +her to behave as she had. Also that her legacy, instead +of hundreds of pounds, had been thousands, as she was +residuary legatee of an aunt’s fortune.</p> + +<p>“Murray, who seems to have been a weak and kindly +man, and already a slave to the alcohol he had taken +to in his abject misery at her desertion, took her back, +with apparently no thought for the absent Davidge. They +went to London, took a house in Eaton Place, and gradually +entered society. Mrs. Murray’s legacy was apparently +an ample one, for she lived in luxury, Murray never +suspecting that Lord Levallion’s bank-account supplied +the funds, or that Lord Levallion himself was a constant +and utterly clandestine visitor.</p> + +<p>“No hint of his connection with Mrs. Murray ever +leaked out; he never was seen with her, or entering her +house, the fact being that he never came in daylight, and +that Murray at night was usually dead drunk. The servants +knew nothing of his visits, as he used a small garden +door leading directly into Mrs. Murray’s boudoir. And +so things went for years till he had reason to be angry +with Mrs. Murray on several counts—one her extravagance +and imprudence, another her friendship with a +man who openly boasted of her favors, and last the open +hostility of Murray, who, one day on meeting Lord Levallion +in the street, abused him with drunken eloquence.</p> + +<p>“The late peer satisfied himself that Mrs. Murray was +being no truer in the present than she had been in the +past, and quietly threw her over. Her new lover had no +money, and, being in great straits, she went to Captain +Gordon—the present heir to the earldom—whom she +knew slightly, and gave him an evidently erroneous idea +of her position in regard to his cousin, with such success +that he believed her and lent her money. Whether he +found out about her from Levallion, it is impossible to +say. Certainly he refused her any further assistance afterward, +but it is equally certain that for some months +he believed her to be the rightful Countess of Levallion +and her son the future earl.</p> + +<p>“By this time Mrs. Murray was determined to keep +her footing in society. She dismissed her new lover, +and appealed to Levallion, who was adamant. He held +that she had no claim on him, but gave her a lump sum of +money yielding a yearly income sufficient to keep up +her house in Eaton Place.</p> + +<p>“Three months after their final rupture came news like +a thunderbolt. Lord Levallion had become engaged to +be married to the only daughter of the late Sir Thomas +Annesley, the same unfortunate lady who, justly or unjustly, +now awaits her trial for his murder. Mrs. Murray +was powerless, never having been his wife, as she +thought. But no later than a fortnight ago fate’s kaleidoscope +shifted. It turned out by a curious chain of events +that the late Lord Levallion was right about the death of +Davidge. It was he and no other who was killed in a +scandalous brawl in Paris, but his death was hidden by a +namesake, a cousin, Maurice Davidge, who quietly +changed identities with the dead man, who was in receipt +of an allowance from their family; buried himself, +so to speak, and as John Davidge went to America, +when quite casually the thing leaked out. Mrs. Murray, +be she good or bad, is probably Lady Levallion, for +Murray’s wife she never was. He had left her for +months, having somehow discovered about Levallion, +when the quondam John Davidge spoke out.</p> + +<p>“Our readers will find the opening proceedings of the +case against the present heirs of Lord Levallion on our +first page.”</p> + +<hr class="tb"> + +<p>The reader dropped the paper. This was what had +been up Hester Murray’s sleeve!</p> + +<p>“She can have the whole show for all I care!” he said, +after a moment of wonder that any woman could be so +shamelessly outspoken, even for money.</p> + +<p>“She must know no one will accept her after all that +story,” he thought, though—except that Davidge was +dead—he had known most of it.</p> + +<p>His face grew very hopeless. This case of Hester’s +disposed of all wish on her part for Levallion’s death. +She would far rather have forced herself on him, and +shamed him; it seemed to Gordon that his death had +taken away the point of the woman’s revenge.</p> + +<p>“No, she’s out of it,” he said. “It could not have been +her whom Tommy saw.”</p> + +<p>From sheer habit he stared once more at her house—and +started to his feet in the dark, forlorn room.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">“FALSE AS A PACK OF CARDS.”</p> + + +<p>Mrs. Murray and her story were a thunderbolt in +society. It chanced that the only person who did not +hear of it was Lady Annesley, whom fate had afflicted +with a sharp attack of neuralgia in the eyes—real this +time—and her doctor consigned to a rest-cure at Horrogate, +where newspapers and the outside world did not +exist.</p> + +<p>The duchess sent for Tommy at Valehampton, and +aired her views on the character of Mrs. Murray.</p> + +<p>But the boy cared very little. The conversation turned +soon enough to the topmost thing in both minds—Ravenel +in jail, and the precious days that were flying by +and bringing out nothing to help her.</p> + +<p>“I’ll help her if I have to choke the home secretary,” +the duchess cried, tearful and regardless. “Oh, Tommy, +it breaks my heart to see her! She’s never cried, never +broken down, they tell me. But I know she’s past all +hoping. I think she’s just waiting to die.”</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas opened his mouth and shut it again.</p> + +<p>After all, he had nothing to tell the duchess: his +thought that night in the garden had come to nothing. +He had played secret police on the boot-boy in vain; +had questioned him uselessly. Wide-eyed, frightened, +almost idiotic, Towers had stared at him; what answers +he did make were not what Tommy Annesley wanted.</p> + +<p>“Will she talk to you?” he said.</p> + +<p>The duchess could only nod. All that pitiful, childish +story of Adrian Gordon’s letters and ring had Lady +Levallion told her—and even the duchess could see that +it would make Levallion’s death look black enough—to +a jury.</p> + +<p>“Captain Gordon has never been near her. I suppose +he dare not,” she said heavily, as she wiped her eyes. +“Where is he?”</p> + +<p>“Nobody knows,” and Tommy could have killed the +man who, instead of moving heaven and earth to set +Ravenel free, had seen fit to vanish and leave her to her +fate. The whole world, except the duchess and her lawyers, +was doing that. Surely Gordon could not mean +to do nothing at all!</p> + +<p>“I must get home,” he said, and got up to go. Not all +the duchess could say would keep him away from Levallion +Castle. The clue was there, if it were anywhere +on God’s earth. Night after night, while the house was +asleep, the boy examined every inch of it, and looked +and wondered and hoped in vain. If there had been any +one in tweed clothes on the other side of Levallion’s +door when Mr. Jacobs banged it—and was forced for +his pains to run back through a passage and Lady Levallion’s +suite of rooms before he could get out into +the corridor again—that man would not have dared to go +into any of the guests’ rooms, where the dog might keep +him besieged. Nor would he have had time to gain the +kitchen, where Jacobs had rushed. The only place he +could have got to would be the housekeeper’s room, +which was up two steps as you went to the kitchen. And +that was out of the question, because the housekeeper +had been in there, and Carrousel, too. No man bouncing +into a quiet room to get away from a dog could do it +without disturbing its occupants. The housekeeper had +not heard a sound. And the theory of Carrousel having +a hand in the poisoning did not hold water. A cook, +dressed in white, could not tear tweed clothes on the +latch of a door; nor if he had would have had time to +change them.</p> + +<p>Mr. Allington looked up as they were at dinner, a +lovely pair in a desolate house. The new development +anent Mrs. Murray had nearly driven the good man frantic, +for he had little doubt that her story was true. Most +of it was, to his own knowledge. And, as for Lady +Levallion, he had never for one moment imagined her +guilty. Perhaps Tommy’s watch on the servants was not +the only one in that house that so far had been fruitless.</p> + +<p>“Can you eat nothing, either?” he said precisely. “It +seems to me our dinner is not so good as usual.”</p> + +<p>“Carrousel is out, sir,” the butler put in respectfully. +“The steward gave him leave to go at luncheon-time. He +will be back to-night.”</p> + +<p>“Ah!” said Allington, too much annoyed to utter. If +any servant left the house he had been able, so far, to +ascertain just where he or she went. This was unbearable! +“Has he friends in the neighborhood?”</p> + +<p>“He went to take Towers, the boot-boy, to a new place +in London, sir! Towers was frightened to go alone.”</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas nearly leaped off his chair. Not for one +moment did he ever imagine Carrousel would be back +to-night or any other night.</p> + +<p>“Tommy!” said Allington quietly, and his eyes flashed +warning, “let me advise you, at least, to drink your +claret.” He knew nothing about the boot-boy, but he +knew that Sir Thomas’ mind was running in the same +channel as his own.</p> + +<p>“I’ll have some beef,” said Tommy to the butler, waving +away a proffered dish. It was quite right to keep up +appearances, but every minute might be precious. And +then it came over him with a flat, deadly sinking that he +was imagining nonsense; because a cook chose to beat a +boy and take a day’s outing.</p> + +<p>Strung up, tense, he felt as if every trivial word +might mean something to-night. As he cut up his beef +he grew suddenly rigid in his chair. A footman was +handing Allington a telegram, the pinky envelope seemed +to swim on the silver tray to the boy’s excited eyes.</p> + +<p>Was this something—at last—from the detectives?</p> + +<p>Allington, with an impassive countenance, crumpled +the sheet and put it in his pocket.</p> + +<p>“The Duchess of Avonmore would like to see you the +first thing in the morning,” he said.</p> + +<p>“What for——” Tommy stopped himself. “Why +didn’t she wire me, I wonder?”</p> + +<p>“That I don’t know,” said Allington. “If you don’t +want any more of an inferior dinner, suppose we adjourn. +It seems to me,” turning to the butler, “that the +same sort of meal was served two days ago. Kindly +give my compliments to the steward, and say I do not +wish it to occur again.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir. But Carrousel went out without leave last +time. He is rather above himself, you know, sir,” the +butler explained hastily.</p> + +<p>Allington made no answer. But as soon as he and +Tommy reached the morning-room he shut the door, and +his face was that of a different man.</p> + +<p>“Read that,” he said. “Tell me what you think of it.”</p> + +<p>Tommy smoothed out the crumpled telegram and saw +the duchess’ message was fiction.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Wire to Atkinson, 14 Starr Street, Paddington,” he +read, “who, if any, of the servants has been in town during +the week.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +<span class="smcap">A. Gordon.</span>”<br> +</p> +</div> + +<p>“What does it mean?” He shook like a leaf.</p> + +<p>“I hope it means a clue. Why did you jump so about +the boot-boy and the cook? I hear he takes a great interest +in him.”</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas agreed with hearsay, but his tale showed +the interest Carrousel took was peculiar.</p> + +<p>“I believe Carrousel did the poisoning,” he said, below +his breath. “I think the boot-boy caught him at it! +And we’ve lost them. I don’t think we’ll see either of +them again.”</p> + +<p>“Carrousel had a good alibi. It isn’t possible,” Allington +returned. “Yet I don’t like this business of the +boy. What sort of a place do you suppose——” thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“No place,” Tommy cut in short. “He’s going to put +that boy out of the way. He knows something. Does +this thing,” tapping the telegram, “mean Gordon’s in +Starr Street? What would he be there for? And what +made him think any of the servants were in London?”</p> + +<p>“That I don’t know. But I might have guessed he +was in Starr Street,” absently. “I’m afraid he’s wasting +time. There’s no hope there.”</p> + +<p>“So are we,” sharply. “Aren’t you going to answer +that wire?”</p> + +<p>“Yes! But I don’t want the servants to know there +is an answer. Will you go out the back way, and send +one?”</p> + +<p>“What’ll I say?” breathless. For it seemed for the +first time as if some one were doing something.</p> + +<p>“Say, ‘The artist. Day before yesterday and to-day. +Answer.’ Sign your name.”</p> + +<p>He handed Sir Thomas some money and a stray cap +from a table. He had never seemed so human before. +But as Tommy disappeared through the French window +the lawyer, closing the shutters behind him, gave a hopeless +sigh.</p> + +<p>Captain Gordon was in Starr Street because of Mrs. +Murray—as if a woman with so much at stake would +be so mad as to entangle herself in the death of the +man whose widow she wished to prove herself.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what he means about the servants,” he +thought. “If he’s trying to mix up one of them with +Mrs. Murray, he’s in a mare’s nest. But if Monsieur +Carrousel does not return I’ll get a warrant out for him, +on the pretext of that boy.”</p> + +<p>It was three miles to the telegraph-office; he allowed +two hours for Tommy to come and go; but when three +had gone, and four, he began to wonder if in this house +of horror there was still more to come. The night was +dark as a wolf’s mouth outside. After one glance without +Mr. Allington opened the door into the deserted hall. +The house was absolutely silent, for it was after twelve, +and the servants had gone to bed.</p> + +<p>The lawyer slipped off his boots, and vanished down +the passage to the kitchen. When he returned there +was a strange look on his face, though until to-night +what he had discovered would have meant absolutely +nothing to him. As he stood once more in the morning-room +a light tap came on the window. With instinctive, +reasonless caution, he extinguished the light before he +opened the wooden shutters and let Sir Thomas in.</p> + +<p>“What kept you?” he said.</p> + +<p>“Hush!” said Tommy. “Carrousel’s going by outside.”</p> + +<p>In the dark Allington, the imperturbable, started.</p> + +<p>“He’s come back, then!” he whispered. “He’s cleverer +than I thought—or innocent.”</p> + +<p>“Why shouldn’t he be innocent?” cried Tommy hysterically. +“Light a candle; it’s so beastly dark here. I +waited for an answer, and I saw Carrousel get out of +the train.”</p> + +<p>“Was the boy with him?”</p> + +<p>“It doesn’t matter whether he was or wasn’t. Read +that,” as the candle burned blue and then yellow he flung +a telegram to Allington, and hid his weary face on his +arms. “We’re all wrong.”</p> + +<div class="blockquot"> + +<p>“Not my man at all,” Allington read, and the badly +written lines sickened him with disappointment. “I was +mistaken. Am doing no good here. Will be down to-morrow +to consult. Unless you know something, am +worse than when I started.</p> + +<p class="sig"> +A. G.”<br> +</p> +</div> + +<p>Allington’s discovery of the evening dwindled away to +nothing again. He had no heart to speak of it since Carrousel +was evidently not concerned in it.</p> + +<p>“Don’t despair till we find out what this means,” he +said slowly. But in his soul he knew that they had been +led away by a will-o’-the-wisp, made of suspicion, coincidence, +and the ill treatment of a boot-boy. Their supposed +clue was false as a pack of cards!</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">GOOD-BY.</p> + + +<p>But it was not to Levallion Castle that Adrian Gordon +came in the crisp blue and gold of the autumn evening.</p> + +<p>Ravenel, seated on her bed, with her sluggish blood +barely moving in her veins, leaped to her feet as her +door opened.</p> + +<p>“You!” she cried, and if for an instant her face was +transfigured, the next she put out her trembling hands +as if to warn him to stay where he was. “How did you +get in?”</p> + +<p>“As men do who storm a city wall,” he might have answered +truly; but he only said: “Quite easily,” and let +his eyes look their fill on the face of the only woman in +the world.</p> + +<p>The matron after one shrewd glance turned her back +on them. But it was trouble wasted; neither of them +thought of her. Her eyes were on him as his on her. +And the dead, ugly pallor of her face, that had been +like a rose, the black circles round her dull eyes, the +thin transparency of her hands, made him catch his breath +for agony of pity; but she never saw how worn he was +because she was looking in his eyes that she had never +hoped to see again.</p> + +<p>“Seventeen days of it,” he thought, “and she looks like +this! How will she look after months—years?” For +they would never dare to hang her, to break that slender +neck with a rope in a prison yard. Yet he knew after +one look at her that if she were found guilty, even of +manslaughter, it meant death for her! Death in a prison +cell, alone.</p> + +<p>The man’s heart-break choked him.</p> + +<p>Six feet of bare floor lay between them, that was all; +yet shame and the grave could part them no more utterly.</p> + +<p>“Nel,” he said, for the minutes were flying, “I had to +come. You’re not angry?”</p> + +<p>“No,” she whispered. And if for a minute she had +thought he brought her good news, she knew now he had +none. Gordon turned and saw the matron. Before he +could speak she deliberately put her fingers in her ears. +Ten juries might ask her what they said, and she could +tell them nothing. The look in the woman’s eyes sent +Adrian to Ravenel’s side.</p> + +<p>“Nel,” he whispered, “tell me, for God’s sake! who +you saw in that room, and why you lied at the inquest? +Did you think it was I?”</p> + +<p>“I know it wasn’t, now. I might always have known, +but I couldn’t think—afterward.”</p> + +<p>“But you did see some one?”</p> + +<p>“I said not,” quietly. “It wouldn’t do me any good +now to let them know I lied.”</p> + +<p>“If I had done it twenty times I wouldn’t have had +you hold your tongue to save me.” He was hoarse with +pain. “How could you think that I, who’d gone to London, +was in Levallion’s house?”</p> + +<p>“I didn’t think.” She met his eyes with hers, dull from +nights of agony. “I took down the bottle; looked up, +and thought I saw you going out the door! I was frightened. +I felt as if I had seen a ghost! When Jacobs +growled and bristled I ran. And then—the stuff killed +him.” Horror twisting her pale lips. “How could I +tell? How was I to know you had not come back, for +some reason? I—I never for one second thought you +killed him.”</p> + +<p>“My own heart,” said the man, with a breath like a +sob, “don’t defend yourself to me. I know you never +thought that. But if you won’t tell about the figure you +saw, I will. Don’t you know some one must?”</p> + +<p>“You’d do no good,” gently. “Only make me a liar. +And even now, Adrian, I couldn’t swear the figure was +real and not my fancy. I’d been trying all that day to +put you out of my mind.”</p> + +<p>“But you said the bottle was warm!”</p> + +<p>“Quite warm,” she shuddered, “like blood. But that +was what frightened me—afterward. I remembered +what you’d said about poisoning him—and yet I wouldn’t, +wouldn’t believe it!”</p> + +<p>“Some one had been carrying it in a hot hand,” he +cried. “The same person who put those bottles in your +room. Did you think I would have done that?” bitterly.</p> + +<p>“I knew you wouldn’t, but you must remember that I +knew nothing about those bottles till my evidence was +finished,” simply.</p> + +<p>“There’s a God, they say!” he said, between his teeth. +“If there is, He won’t let the guilty escape. Nel, promise +me something. Trust me, even if things come to the +worst. There’ll be help somewhere!” very low.</p> + +<p>“Not for me,” quietly. “You’ve been trying all this +time and found out nothing. I see it in your face.”</p> + +<p>“I thought of Mrs. Murray,” he said painfully, “and +I’m afraid I’m wrong. She had nothing to gain and revenge +to lose. The talk would have been worse than +death to him.”</p> + +<p>A quick look of pain came to her face.</p> + +<p>“I know,” she muttered. “The duchess told me.”</p> + +<p>He answered with that utter honesty she had loved in +him.</p> + +<p>“Nel, you would not believe what Hester says about +Levallion. He never went to that house in Eaton Place, +except once, when they thought the boy was dying. He +gave her money, but she lies when she says he kept on +going there. You knew him better than that.”</p> + +<p>“I never believed it,” she answered quietly, loyal to +the dead, as she had been to the living.</p> + +<p>“Now you know why I could not answer you about +‘Mrs. Gordon,’” he whispered, thinking that assuredly +no wickeder woman than Hester Murray trod the earth. +“It was she herself!”</p> + +<p>“Never mind her,” with sudden passion she caught his +arm. “Let her be! Adrian, do you think I’ll ever see +you again, face to face, like this? For I sha’n’t! Talk +of yourself, talk of something I may remember when”—sharply—“till +I die.”</p> + +<p>“I’ll see you hundreds of times, please God. Day in +and day out,” but his eyes were not on hers.</p> + +<p>“You won’t, you can’t!” The self-control that had +held her since that dreadful night gone now. “Adrian!” +she cried, wild, terrified, broken, “they’ll hang me. I +can’t prove I did not do it. Help me, comfort me, make +me brave.”</p> + +<p>If ten matrons had been looking on he would have +caught her to him.</p> + +<p>“Never,” he said, low, in her ear. “Not while I can +speak and see.” But what he meant never dawned on +her.</p> + +<p>“Put that thought from you. I swear you can.” For +with that rag—and his tweed suit could easily be torn—there +was one way open still.</p> + +<p>“If they let me go to-morrow, the world would think +we did it,” she gasped. “There’s blood between us. +We’d be as far apart as if I died.”</p> + +<p>“If I never see you on this side the grave,” the man +cried passionately, “do you think I’ll ever be really parted +from you? What are a few years—when some time +we’ll wake and find it’s the Resurrection Day? Love, +don’t grieve!”</p> + +<p>For as he spoke she remembered how once it was she +who had meant to creep to his side when the dead came +out of their graves, and now God had made that the only +hope left.</p> + +<p>“Listen,” he said, “I’ll have to go in a minute. I came +to tell you something. I let you think I’d found out +nothing; I’ve found out one way. There’ll be no death +for you, my sweetheart, no prison. I can’t tell you what +I know, but it will set you free.”</p> + +<p>“No, no, no!” Tears blinded her. She caught him to +her madly. “Not that, never that.”</p> + +<p>“Not that.” He hushed her like a child; and if ever +a lie was pardoned, his was. “Be at peace; not that. +Oh! what did we do that we should end like this?” he +broke out fiercely, more to himself than to her.</p> + +<p>“My heart, we’ll wake some day in paradise,” she said, +very low, for his passion steadied her. “And perhaps it +won’t be long.”</p> + +<p>He stooped and kissed her as a man whose minutes are +numbered; held her close in agony that hurt her and +him.</p> + +<p>“Be brave,” he muttered, for he was broken utterly. +“Remember you’re safe. Eat what they give you,” and +the homely, kindly detail was dreadful in its tender care. +“Think of Tommy and of me, who’ll be happy—and God +knows how happy—when you’re free.”</p> + +<p>Somehow he put her away from him as the warden +knocked at the door.</p> + +<p>But outside in the free air he shut his teeth and prayed +he had not lied to her. For suppose what he had in his +mind was not enough to set her clear! It was not hope +that had brought him to Valehampton Jail. If there were +none at Levallion Castle—and there could be none——</p> + +<p>“I pray God my shoulders are broad enough,” he +thought, turning away.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">A MOUSE-HOLE.</p> + + +<p>“Well,” said Allington grimly, “you ruined a fine +theory for me last night with your wire. I thought for +a solid hour that I could put my fingers on the man +who killed Levallion.”</p> + +<p>The two were strolling up and down the open lawn +at Levallion Castle. Perhaps Mr. Allington made a guess +as to what had deferred Adrian Gordon’s arrival till three +in the afternoon, but he said nothing. The face of the +new Lord Levallion, who in a few more days would be +plain Adrian Gordon once more, did not encourage comment.</p> + +<p>“You did mean you thought it could be the cook?” he +cried, standing still in the autumn sunshine.</p> + +<p>“I did. But”—he flicked the ash from his cigar significantly—“it +all went like that.”</p> + +<p>“What put it into your head at all?” drearily.</p> + +<p>“A boot-boy. The only servant who was not called at +the inquest.” And he told Sir Thomas’ tale of the beating, +and the subsequent tender care of Monsieur Carrousel +in finding his protégé a new place.</p> + +<p>“That set me thinking,” he continued. “I went down +to the housekeeper’s room last night when the house +was quiet, and I found it led into the still-room.”</p> + +<p>“I don’t see much in that,” interrupting him. “We all +know that. It’s to keep the still-room under her eye. +That’s all. There’s no second door from the still-room.”</p> + +<p>“Isn’t there?” said Allington quietly. “Did it never +strike any one that a portion of those shelves in that +room covers a door, that opens, shelves and all, into +the ‘boothole’ under the kitchen stairs. I confess last +night that with that discovery, and the carting off of the +boot-boy, I felt jubilant. But it was all rubbish. The +housekeeper had a letter from the boy I thought the cook +had made away with, to say he liked his new place which +Monsieur Carrousel had found for him. Something +Square it was dated, and postmarked Paddington.”</p> + +<p>“It’s all one what it was postmarked,” Gordon returned +dully. “It wasn’t Carrousel I saw last night; and I agree +with you that the boot-boy business was all bona fide +enough. A clever Frenchman might pound a stupid boy +to a jelly from exasperation, and then turn round and +be kind to him.”</p> + +<p>“Who did you see last night?” curiously. “I suppose +you’ve been playing detective on Mrs. Murray, eh?”</p> + +<p>Adrian nodded.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know why,” he said, “for she was in Boulogne +all summer. Couldn’t have been down here at all. +But I took lodgings opposite and lay doggo to watch her. +Much I got! No one went into her house except her lawyers +in that case of hers,” as indifferently as if it concerned +him not at all and did not spell ruin, “till last +night, when I saw a man go up her steps. Something +about him startled me, his back looked familiar; I don’t +know why, but I could have sworn I’d seen him down +here. Yet I knew he was none of the house-party. He +went in, and I ran out and wired to you. But before +your answer came I knew I’d made an ass of myself. +I’d just got back to my door when I saw the fellow come +out, and it was no one I’d ever seen in my life. I saw +his face quite plainly as he lit a cigar. If I’d seen it like +that in the first place I’d never have wired at all. He +was just a pal of Hester’s.”</p> + +<p>Allington nodded. He was as disappointed as a dog +that has discovered an empty rat-hole.</p> + +<p>“What do you think of doing now?” he said. “The +detectives are quite hopeless of finding Sir Thomas’ +mysterious man and woman, I may tell you. That woman +who levanted from the bungalow was their first thought, +but she has apparently fallen off the earth. As for the +man”—snapping his fingers—“after pouncing on twenty +innocent young farmers, they have given him up. Unless——” +He stopped awkwardly. Somehow he could +not say to Adrian Gordon that he had yet to prove he +was not himself that man. Not that Allington thought +so, but there was no doubt the police did.</p> + +<p>“Unless he turns up, directly under their noses,” said +Adrian coolly. But Allington could make no guess at +what he meant.</p> + +<p>“What do you think of doing?” he repeated.</p> + +<p>“Go back to town, and——” he hesitated. “Look here, +Allington, you don’t think this business of Hester Murray’s +looks queer bang on top of Levallion’s death, do +you?”</p> + +<p>“No,” unwillingly. “She’d be afraid to try it—in +that case. In any case, you say you know she was in +Boulogne.”</p> + +<p>“I suppose I do. She gave me an address of a pension +there, and I wrote. It was all straight enough. Hello! +here’s Tommy!” with annoyance. He had not wanted +to see Tommy. The boy’s eyes were too clear, even a lie +untold might be written in Gordon’s face, he thought +vexedly.</p> + +<p>“Hello! where’ve you been?” he said uncomfortably, +and then stopped short.</p> + +<p>“My God, Tommy! what is it?” he cried, the dreadful +look on the boy’s face meaning only one thing to +him. Ravenel was guilty, and her brother had found it +out!</p> + +<p>“Don’t speak to me!” said the boy hoarsely; “let me +think. I’ve been—and I thought it might mean something, +but—it can’t!”</p> + +<p>Wherever he had been he had been running, and his +face was white and red in streaks. Allington pulled him +down on a garden bench.</p> + +<p>“Get your breath,” he said, but he was afraid, too.</p> + +<p>At the two pale faces the boy suddenly laughed out +hysterically.</p> + +<p>“I’ve made a fool of myself,” he said. “I thought I’d +found something. Look here. I went over to the farm +where—you know the Umbrella died?” incoherently.</p> + +<p>“She didn’t know anything!” cried Allington. “I +turned the farmer’s wife inside out. I suppose you mean +by the Umbrella the woman who wrote those letters to +Lady Levallion that can’t be found?”</p> + +<p>“I don’t know what she knew,” said Tommy sharply. +“And we never will. I went out toward the station to +see if Gordon had come down by the two-twenty, and he +hadn’t. Coming home I met Mrs. Ward, the farmer’s +wife, and she asked me what she was to do with the +Umbrella’s old bonnet or something, but she really +stopped me to know if any of us would pay for the Umbrella’s +board. It seems she stayed a week there, and +Ravenel hadn’t sent her enough money to pay for that +and her funeral. I don’t know! Anyhow, I strolled up +with old Mother Ward to see just what the Umbrella +had left in the way of clothes, and to view the undertaker’s +bill for myself. For old Ward’s a beast. There +were some old rags of clothes with nothing in the pockets, +and I said you’d pay the undertaker,” turning to +Allington. “I was staring round the place and I saw a +piece of paper, just an edge, sticking out between the +floor and the wall. I hooked it out, and there was a +mouse-hole behind it; the mice had dragged the thing in +there.</p> + +<p>“Old Mother Ward gave a yell. Said the Umbrella +had held that thing in her hand till she died, and she’d +wondered what had become of it. I thought—oh! I don’t +know what I thought,” miserably; “but it isn’t any good. +Here’s the thing, and it doesn’t mean anything.”</p> + +<p>“It’s a torn telegram,” said Allington, peering over +Gordon’s shoulder as he snatched the paper. “What’s +that on the back of it?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing,” said Tommy, “only 1 pound, or something.”</p> + +<p>Adrian Gordon, like a man in a dream, stared at the +dirty mouse-eaten thing he held. It might be meaningless +enough to Tommy and Allington, but to him.</p> + +<p>“By ——!” he said, below his breath, “Hester!”</p> + +<p>“What do you mean?” cried Allington, startled.</p> + +<p>“Look!” grimly, his eyes as hard as Levallion’s had +ever been.</p> + +<p>And Allington made out the tattered telegram.</p> + +<p>“Wire descript— Bocage. Imme——” the address +was eaten away, there was no signature.</p> + +<p>“I don’t see what you mean!” he exclaimed.</p> + +<p>Gordon pulled from his pocket that letter from Pension +Bocage concerning Mrs. Murray.</p> + +<p>“Now do you understand?” he cried. “She was in +Boulogne all summer—according to that. Yet the man +who wrote it wired to her to describe herself. The meaning’s +clear enough. ‘Wire description to Bocage immediately,’ +that’s how the telegram ran. It was Hester +Murray Tommy saw that night—and she dropped it.”</p> + +<p>“But how could the woman who died come by it?” said +Allington doubtingly.</p> + +<p>Tommy jumped up.</p> + +<p>“You never knew her!” he cried. “She was always +creeping and crawling round. You bet she saw that man +and woman the night I did, and that was what she wanted +to tell Ravenel. Oh, if she hadn’t died!” he caught his +breath. “She had sharp ears, the Umbrella. She may +have heard every word they said. And now we’ll never +know.”</p> + +<p>“Now, on the contrary, we’ve the only clue we’ve ever +had,” Gordon returned. “You’re a fool, Tommy!” staring +at the reverse of the telegram, “with your ‘1 pound!’ +It’s ‘I found’ written on the back of it, and something +else I can’t make out. But even without it, we’ve enough +for—Hester Murray,” savagely.</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas dived into his pockets.</p> + +<p>“Whoever the woman was,” he cried, hunting vigorously, +“I’ve got something belonging to her. You didn’t +know that when Jacobs went for the man that night he +tore the woman’s cloak, did you? And—oh! here it is!” +gladly. “I’ve had it ever since.”</p> + +<p>He laid in Allington’s hand a scrap of black satin, with +a torn bit of chinchilla hanging to it.</p> + +<p>Adrian stared at him.</p> + +<p>“Why, in Heaven’s name!” he said blankly, “didn’t you +show that at the inquest?”</p> + +<p>“Because I’m not a fool,” returned Sir Thomas.</p> + +<p>“The room was full of men. How did I know any of +’em hadn’t been drinking champagne in the moonlight +with a lady, and would go off and tell her she’d been seen +looking in windows. Besides, then, mind you, I thought +it was you I saw on the rock, and I didn’t care who it +was with you, because I’d proved it wasn’t my sister.”</p> + +<p>Adrian winced.</p> + +<p>“I can’t say much for your eyesight!” he cried, with +sarcasm. “Last night Allington says you were quite +ready to think the man was Carrousel.”</p> + +<p>The words cut.</p> + +<p>“I never said it was Carrousel I saw on the rock that +night,” said Tommy, suddenly very white and quiet. “I +never thought it. He’s got a beard. But I’d tell you this +much: If you’ll find the woman who owns that cloak, +and give me time—I’ll find the man!”</p> + +<p>“Time’s just what we haven’t got. And I don’t believe +you’d know the man if you fell over him,” unbelievingly.</p> + +<p>“I mightn’t,” said Tommy composedly. “But—Jacobs +would.”</p> + +<p>And neither man believed him.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">A GRAY-LINED CLOAK.</p> + + +<p>“I’m going to win!” said Hester Murray to herself +breathlessly. “Oh, I’m going to win!”</p> + +<p>For her case had been taken up by the cleverest barrister +in London, and, as he showed it to her, faultlessly +dovetailed together, there was not a flaw in it. Maurice +Davidge, even, who, for his own reasons, had posed this +ten years back as John Davidge, was in London, and in +self-defense had chosen to stand his chance for false +impersonation and misappropriation of money rather than +take John Davidge’s sins on his shoulders.</p> + +<p>For John Davidge’s father had had excellent cause to +pension off his son. A long-gone-by agrarian riot and +murder in Ireland had been John Davidge’s work, and by +a queer chain of circumstances had come home to him +now.</p> + +<p>Maurice, to save his neck, which he had ignorantly +ventured in London, was glad enough to have Hester +Murray corroborate his tale. And, indeed, there was no +doubt about his identity. Witness after witness cropped +up to establish that, and the death and burial of the true +John Davidge, who had lived long enough to make Hester’s +marriage to Murray null and void, and died just in +time to legalize her union with Levallion.</p> + +<p>But it was queer that, as she looked at her lawyer’s +triumphant, confident letter, a shiver took her; the shiver +old women call footsteps on your grave. She got up and +drank some brandy, nearly neat. At the bungalow she +had got into the way of keeping her heart up with spirits, +but she would break that off now. Yet she took another +glass before her shivering-fit would pass.</p> + +<p>“It was that dream!” she said to herself. “It unstrung +me. I wish I knew what it meant. But dreams”—the +brandy was warming her now—“are rubbish! Only +thoughts, after all.”</p> + +<p>Yet that dream had made her wake up, crying out +till Adrian—that Adrian who had Levallion’s blood in +him—came to her from the next room.</p> + +<p>“What’s the matter?” he cried, a bonny figure in the +half-light, with his ruffled head and his tumbled nightgown.</p> + +<p>“I dreamed I was on a swing!” She caught him to +her.</p> + +<p>“That wasn’t anything,” climbing into her bed.</p> + +<p>“No, of course not.” But she did not tell the child +her whole dream. There was she, Hester Murray, sitting +on a swing that hung high over the heads of a great +crowd of people. In front of her, so that as she swung, +she must touch it, was a flower-covered platform. On +it she saw herself—yes, her very self—in widow’s weeds, +holding her boy by the hand, among a group of people +who were crying: “Long live Lord Levallion!” cheering +for the new heir.</p> + +<p>The swing began to move forward, and something +made her look over her shoulder. Behind her, precisely +as far away as the flower-decked platform, so that as she +swung back she must touch him, stood the dead Levallion, +in his grave-clothes. He smiled, that smile that had +cut her many a time, and pointed. At his right hand was +the gallows, and a hangman with a black mask.</p> + +<p>The swing flew through the air, touched the platform. +The dreamer tried to jump to it, and found she was +tied by a cord. Back, back went the swing toward the +dead man, whose outstretched hand would catch and hold +it fast. Back—with a shriek of torture Hester Murray +woke, and trembled at her child’s touch.</p> + +<p>“I’m a fool!” she thought, now. “It was nightmare. +I had nothing to do with it. I never was in Levallion’s +house.”</p> + +<p>But apprehension had her by the throat. If she had +dared she would almost have thrown up her claim and her +child’s. But to dare that was out of her power this three +weeks past.</p> + +<p>“I must go out. The air may steady me. I’m nervous.” +If it was not too late she would go to the hospital, +for Bob Murray, by some miracle, was lingering still. +Quite gratuitously his quondam wife wished he would +die. Not that it would really matter to her case; she +would be rid of him effectually when she was proved to +be the Countess of Levallion, but if he died quietly, he +would not be able to air some small details that shed no +glory on her life in Eaton Place. He might deny Levallion’s +going there till he was black in the face, no one +would believe him. And still she wished feverishly that +he was dead.</p> + +<p>But she was too late at the hospital, or too something. +The hall porter informed her that the house surgeon +was busy at an operation, and—having vainly expected a +tip at her previous visits—could get her no information +on the case she inquired about, except that the man was +alive.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Murray walked slowly toward Regent Street, +that the lights and the crowd might cheer her. At Berry’s +she went in and had dinner, with reckless extravagance. +There was nothing to go home for to-night, and it would +pass the time.</p> + +<p>It had been five o’clock when she started; it was nearer +ten than nine when she got back to Starr Street, her +causeless apprehension utterly gone, and her small, dainty +face quite gay.</p> + +<p>“A gentleman is waiting to see you, madam!” The +landlady was in the entry as Mrs. Murray’s latch-key let +her in. There was no secret about her being the Mrs. +Murray whose case had electrified London, and the +future Countess of Levallion had everything she chose +to ask for in the squalid lodgings.</p> + +<p>“What gentleman?” The door half-closed, the latch-key +half-way to her pocket, Hester stood.</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t say. I think he was here yesterday.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes!” with a little relieved laugh. “My lawyer.” +And she went into the sitting-room with her oddly boyish +step suitably adjusted to smoothness. The door +slipped from her hand and banged.</p> + +<p>A tall man, clean-shaven, except for a heavy dark mustache, +was pacing irritably up and down the room. His +plain blue serge was exquisitely cut, but oddly narrow +in the chest, as if it had been made for some other man.</p> + +<p>“How dare you come here?” she said, her clear voice +low with fury. “It’s enough to ruin me.”</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders.</p> + +<p>“You talk nonsense. Have I no sense? If I run any +risk it is because you were out. Did I not say,” angrily, +“stay in, stay in, stay in?” His uplifted hand seemed to +threaten her, for she cowered under it. “For you, there +is no risk at all.”</p> + +<p>“You said last night you could not come again. That +there was risk!” As she looked at him her dream came +back to her, though he had not been in it, and her voice +came harsh and sudden.</p> + +<p>“What brings you, and where have you been?”</p> + +<p>His hand fell on her slight shoulder.</p> + +<p>“Last night was last night!” he said. “It’s none of +your business where I’ve been, but I don’t mind telling +you. Down at Levallion.”</p> + +<p>“Well?” she said, as if it were no news to her.</p> + +<p>“If I hadn’t gone it would not have been well—for +you,” he said. “Though I don’t know. Did you do”—curiously—“what +I told you to?”</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t,” carelessly. “I’ve had no chance.”</p> + +<p>“What!” savagely.</p> + +<p>“I couldn’t do it in daylight!” she cried. “I don’t see +how I can do it at all. There’s always some one looking +at me. If that’s what you mean, you were a fool to +come here! The thing is safer here than anywhere; it +doesn’t matter in any case.”</p> + +<p>“Get it,” ordered the man, and his face had grown ten +years older. “Since you can’t make yourself safe, I +must. Go!”</p> + +<p>“I won’t do anything in the dark,” she said. “How do +I know what you want it for—other people may trust +you, I don’t.”</p> + +<p>His hands opened and shut, as if for one second it +was hard work to keep them off her, though he loved her +in his way.</p> + +<p>“You can trust me—better than yourself,” he said, +close to her ear. “Listen! I went down to Levallion. +I told you I should not, but I did. And there in broad +daylight, with a field-glass, I see Captain Gordon appear—that +black little beast, Sir Thomas; the lawyer. I +have no field-glass for my ears, I cannot make them like +my eyes. But——”</p> + +<p>“They’d nothing of yours?” she gasped.</p> + +<p>“No,” softly, but his nails were hurting her shoulder. +“But they had of yours. Had you no sense—did you +not know that accursed dog tore your cloak that night in +the wood?”</p> + +<p>“I never looked at it!” she said wildly.</p> + +<p>“Look now, then; for they had a piece of it in their +hands. May the devil burn them for not showing it at +the inquest! I’d have—and now you’ve got it still! Even +though I told you to take no chances, to get rid of it if +you had to burn this house down.”</p> + +<p>“They can’t think of me,” hardily. “I was in Boulogne.”</p> + +<p>“How do I know whom they think of?” with sudden +fury. “They have gone back for some reason to the +woman they could not trace. I hear from people that +all this time Captain Gordon has been in London. What +brought him back to-day to look at that black-and-gray +rag? If I had not gone down, the police might have +fitted it to your cloak.”</p> + +<p>“How dared you come, with Gordon there?” she broke +in furiously. “You should have watched him. He——”</p> + +<p>“He is there, and not here—that is why I came.” And +as if her slowness, her distrust, maddened him, he shook +her viciously. “Get the cloak!” he cried, “and I’ll save +you yet. The police may be on you to-morrow. You +will only have me and my field-glass to thank if they do +not find it.”</p> + +<p>“If they do, I didn’t do—it,” she said, and then ran, +for his eyes were full of murder.</p> + +<p>“Take it!” she gasped, coming back again, throwing +down a black satin cloak, lined with chinchilla. “I wish +I’d never seen you!”</p> + +<p>“I dare say you do—Lady Levallion!” he said sardonically. +“Hester Murray told another story. Good +night, and thank me you dare to sleep.”</p> + +<p>But when he was gone she had no thought of sleep. +For two days she had loved the man who had just gone +out; and now she hated him, because she knew she +would never get rid of him till she died. She ran to +the window to see where he had gone; stared out; +dropped the half-raised blind and staggered, more than +started back to the middle of the room, as if the quiet +street had been the pit of hell.</p> + +<p>“The dream!” she thought wildly. “But I’ve time!” +Something took her at the throat. The man held everything +in his hands, her money, her position, her—— +But it was not being Countess of Levallion that was in +her thoughts as she ran from the room, but life—bare +life—that garbled lie could take away from her.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">ARRESTED.</p> + + +<p>“Hold on,” said a quick voice, in the dark, and Adrian +Gordon stopped short; “I’m coming, too.”</p> + +<p>For after a comfortable dinner in Monsieur Carrousel’s +best manner he had strolled out, ostensibly to take a +walk, really to go as hard as he could to the station and +catch the first train for Starr Street.</p> + +<p>“There’s no sense in your coming,” he said sharply, +and Sir Thomas returned no answer. “And you can’t +bring Jacobs. He’ll be a nuisance.”</p> + +<p>“I’m coming, all the same,” obstinately; “and I can’t +leave Jacobs behind. Carrousel might pour boiling water +on him or something. Don’t hurry so! You want to +catch the express, not the slow train that goes first. Oh, +Gordon!” wretchedly, “don’t you see I must be doing +something? You can’t leave me behind to hatch out rot +about a cook and a boot-boy.”</p> + +<p>“Come on, then,” weakening; and in silence the two +trudged through the country lanes on their way to London, +detectives, Hester Murray.</p> + +<p>“I don’t know why you’re creeping away like this,” +said Tommy suddenly, as they neared the country station; +“but that’s another reason I came. I’ve a mileage +ticket. We can get in without any one seeing us.” And +they did, with Jacobs smuggled under the seat.</p> + +<p>“There’s the slow train now!” he said, after they had +been some ten minutes out of the station. “It stops here +to pick up some carriages and gets in five minutes after +we do.” They flashed past the rows of lighted windows +as he spoke.</p> + +<p>“Glad we did not strike it,” said Adrian, for the sake of +saying something, for five minutes more or less would +make a difference in the night’s work. But they lost it, +all the same, for at Paddington a short man in shooting-clothes +hailed Gordon loudly from a waiting-room.</p> + +<p>“My dear chap!” he cried effusively, “where have you +been?”</p> + +<p>“How are you?” said Adrian hurriedly. “I’ve been—you +heard about Levallion?”</p> + +<p>“I forgot,” the man returned awkwardly. “But I +wanted to see you. Come here a second,” and he drew +the reluctant Adrian into the cloak-room.</p> + +<p>“Hang him!” said Tommy, dragging Jacobs after them +by his chain. “Now we’ll be all night.”</p> + +<p>For he knew well enough who the man was. A certain +distinguished general who could not be shaken off +till he had said his say.</p> + +<p>Sir Thomas stared and fretted at the cloak-room window. +Not that he had any business in Starr Street, but +it was a comfort to be even following a shadow. All at +once he ducked down, rushed across the room to Adrian. +“Come on,” he said, in a savage whisper, for he had +seen what he never hoped to see on earth. Out of an incoming +train had stepped that very man whom he had +seen on that rock in the moonlight, whom Jacobs had +frightened into unseemly skips and yells. Tall, dark-mustached, +leisurely, with a curiously square line of +shaven cheek and chin, the man had paused against a +lamp-post, as Tommy had seen him against the moon.</p> + +<p>“Come on!” he cried, oblivious of the stout general. +“I’ve seen him.”</p> + +<p>“Who?” blankly.</p> + +<p>“How do I know?” white to the lips. “The man we +want. Come on.”</p> + +<p>But he had no need to urge it. Adrian was out of +the cloak-room as fast as he could go. The general, being +a sensible man in the main, said nothing. Merely +stepped to the door and beheld the vanishing figures of +Captain Gordon, a boy, and a dog, running down the +empty platform. For, whoever the man had been, he was +gone.</p> + +<p>At the street corner the two stared every way in the +dull gaslight. There were plenty of foot-passengers, and +among them the man was lost. Mr. Jacobs stood waving +his long white tail, his benevolent white-and-brindle face +beaming. Suddenly he put his nose down to the ground +and sniffed; then he tugged at his chain.</p> + +<p>“Let him go,” said Adrian, for as the dog sniffed the +ground his whole look had changed. His ears flattened +to his head, his back bristling, he was nearly dragging +Tommy off his feet.</p> + +<p>“It’s some one the dog has known before,” said Adrian, +as they hurried through the streets. “Where did you get +him?”</p> + +<p>“Found him on the road with a broken rib.”</p> + +<p>In and out through the traffic, down by-streets, Jacobs +ran. And by a way Adrian had not known existed +brought up in Starr Street. He had thought it ten minutes’ +walk to the station; by Jacobs’ way it was not five. +As the dog would have rushed to Hester Murray’s door +and barked the street down, Adrian caught him back.</p> + +<p>“Wait,” he muttered. “Come over opposite.”</p> + +<p>Tommy picked up the struggling dog and the three, +unnoticed, mounted “Mr. Atkinson’s” stairs. There on +the blind opposite they saw a shadow, dwarfed, ridiculous, +but still the shadow of a man.</p> + +<p>“Is that Mrs. Murray’s room?” said Tommy, and +Gordon nodded.</p> + +<p>“Wait,” he said; “she isn’t there.”</p> + +<p>For the man had come to the window, and as he fumbled +with the blind it snapped out of his hand and flew up. +The next second he dragged it down again, but Tommy +had seen him.</p> + +<p>“It’s the man I saw on the rock!” he cried, trembling.</p> + +<p>“And it’s my man of last night,” grimly. “Some town +friend of Hester’s who’d been in the country on an errand +she dared not do. So much for you and your cook, +Tommy!”</p> + +<p>“Aren’t you going to do anything?” impatiently.</p> + +<p>Adrian gave a short laugh. Hester Murray, in her +trailing black, was going up her own steps.</p> + +<p>“Now I am!” he said. “I was waiting for her. You +stay here, and if she comes out see where she goes. I’m +going to take a cab and drive like blazes for Allington’s +detective—who pooh-poohed the idea of her—and a +search-warrant. If that cloak’s in her house, I think we +have your man and woman.”</p> + +<p>For it had suddenly come over him that at the time of +Levallion’s death Mrs. Murray had not known about +Maurice Davidge, or that she could have any claim on +Levallion. Living here, so near the station, it would +have been simple enough for her to go down by the +seven-o’clock train and back by the midnight. Her alibi +would be secure; her landlady would only think she had +dined out. She need not get out at Levallion’s station, +even; two miles farther on there was a siding where +every train stopped for water. Through the fields from +there it would not be half a mile to the castle. She knew +the house well enough to pass out and in unseen.</p> + +<p>Tommy, craning out of the window, saw him vanish +down the street. And then his heart leaped. The man +was coming out of the house opposite with a bundle under +his arm. As the door opened the boy’s head disappeared +just in time. He made for the door and got tangled up +with Jacobs; picked himself up and ran into the street, +forgetting all about Mrs. Murray. The man was just +disappearing round the corner in the very opposite direction +from the one Adrian had taken. But there was no +time to wait for reenforcements. He was certain that +bundle was the cloak that Adrian wanted. Helter-skelter, +boy and dog tore along. Lost the man, saw him again +as he crossed the Paddington Road with a bundle under +his arm, ran into a man with an umbrella who wasted +profanity on them, and pulled up. The man had vanished. +Tommy pressed Jacobs’ nose to the pavement.</p> + +<p>“Hi, fetch him, good dog!” he muttered, knowing +quite well he was asking almost an impossibility of the +dog in a place where so many people walked. But Jacobs +whined, ran back a little, sniffed, and was off, Tommy +running beside him.</p> + +<p>Across the Paddington Road, into dark by-streets, to +the vile slums by St. Mary’s Hospital, the dog led him. +Into an open door and up-stairs in a filthy, greasy tenement-house; +up and up to the very garret. The place +was pitch-dark, sickening; the stairs riddled with rat-holes. +Jacobs stopped pulling at his chain and gave a low +growl. In the quiet it sounded loud enough to wake the +dead.</p> + +<p>Tommy clutched his jaws frantically.</p> + +<p>“Quiet!” he said, through his teeth. On his hands and +knees he crawled till he could crawl no farther. A reeking, +moldy wall enclosed the landing, and the very silence +of death was round him.</p> + +<p>He knew perfectly that it was in houses like this that +men were murdered, but he never moved to grope his +way to the stairs again. The dog panted in his arms, +stiffening fiercely. Suddenly there came a footstep, in his +very ear where he crouched against the wall. A man was +moving softly on the other side of the partition, and before +he could think a door opened back on him, almost +crushing him, and if it had been forward it would have +taken more than Jacobs to save Tommy Annesley. A +man came out, without any bundle, stood while he closed +and locked the door. A candle was burning inside, and +the light of it shone on him as he deliberately pushed +the door to. The next instant, in the pitch-dark, Jacobs +sprang, silent as death, and well-nigh as strong.</p> + +<p>Down the rickety stairs the two flew, like some horrible +dream. Twice Jacobs lost his hold, and got it again. In +any other house the people would have swarmed out of +every room, but in Bethnal Court lived human wolves, in +by day and out by night. With a wild spring the man +reached the open door into the court, slipped with a +crash on the slimy stones outside; Tommy, tearing down, +flew head over heels over him; Jacobs—but the boy knew +no more.</p> + +<p>And Adrian Gordon stood at that minute in Starr +Street, knowing not which way to turn. Tommy and +Jacobs were gone, Heaven knew where—and Hester +Murray’s rooms held no one. She was gone, and he +knew she would never come back again. Gone in the +clothes she wore, taking her child with her, thinking only +of bare life. Warned, somehow, for if she had ever +owned that cloak she had taken it with her.</p> + +<p>“Better give it up, sir,” said the detective—whom he +had lost everything by waiting to get; “they’ve given you +the slip.”</p> + +<p>Gordon stared at him as if he did not see him.</p> + +<p>“We’ve got to find the boy,” he said. “There was a +man in there; he must have followed him.”</p> + +<p>But though all night long the two walked the streets, +haunted police-stations, asked questions, they found not +a single trace of Tommy and Mr. Jacobs.</p> + +<p>At sunrise Gordon stood alone on a street corner, for +the much-tried detective had struck. He had lost Tommy, +had lost Hester and probably that cloak whose useless +shred he held in his hands; had probably let slip in his +stupidity the only chance he had ever had of saving +Ravenel. He shivered in the morning air. For there +was a girl in Valehampton Jail who had borne enough. +How was she to bear this?</p> + +<p>A policeman in plain clothes tapped his shoulder; another, +as by a miracle, sprang up in front of him.</p> + +<p>He was arrested as accessory before the fact to the +murder of Lord Levallion.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX">CHAPTER XXXIX.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">MR. JACOBS.</p> + + +<p>A sound of running feet, a shrill whistle, was what +Sir Thomas Annesley dreamed of where he lay on the +greasy cobblestones after his somersault; and then a +strong hand on his collar that was real, and jerked him +into consciousness. A policeman was bending over him, +and had Jacobs by his chain.</p> + +<p>“Hi, sir!” he cried, “do you know your dog’s nearly +killed a man?”</p> + +<p>Tommy stared at him, and saw no one but the policeman, +the quivering Jacobs. After everything had the +man got away?</p> + +<p>“You’ve let him go!” he exclaimed, and between his +fall and anger turned sick. “Why didn’t you come before? +I never saw one policeman all the way here.”</p> + +<p>It is said that every man has his price; it is certain he +has his weakness. The policeman’s happened to be bull-terriers. +A flying glimpse of this one and his master +tearing along streets where a well-dressed boy seldom +came and a well-bred dog only too often, had sent him +after them, though he had not seen they were following +any one. In Bethnal Court he came on them. The +dog standing over a man who lay on his face, the boy a +crumpled heap on the stones.</p> + +<p>Policeman Garrety, being a dog-fancier first and an +officer afterward, took the chain that trailed behind +Jacobs.</p> + +<p>The dog never even growled, but came quietly to him +as he was ordered.</p> + +<p>“That’s queer,” the man said to himself. “There ain’t +no ‘vicious-dog’ business here. That young sprig must +have set him on!” He roused Sir Thomas with a less +gentle hand than he had laid on Mr. Jacobs. And the +boy’s first words were angrily, unconsciously authoritative.</p> + +<p>“Why on earth couldn’t you keep him? Here’s everything +wasted,” he cried. “Go and look for him, quick.”</p> + +<p>The man laughed.</p> + +<p>“I haven’t far to go,” he said. “You’re a bit knocked +out still. There’s the man,” with a backward jerk of his +head. “But what brought you and your dog down here? +It wasn’t accident, for I saw you coming here. Don’t +you know you haven’t no right to come to such places? +If you hadn’t had that dog, and I hadn’t noticed you, +you’d not likely have come out alive. Did French Pete +set on you, or what?”</p> + +<p>“Did what?” said Tommy. He had turned long ago +and seen a dark figure lying on the stones just as it had +fallen. He staggered over to it, dizzy and sick.</p> + +<p>“He isn’t dead, is he?” he said sharply, not taking in +a word of what the policeman was saying. “I don’t want +him to die; I want him alive.”</p> + +<p>The policeman looked at the man on the stones. Six +feet in his stockings, girthed like a pony, and this slim-legged +kid was coolly remarking that he “wanted him +alive.”</p> + +<p>“He’s that, right enough,” he observed. “It’s French +Pete, and he’s only knocked out. You’d better tell me +what it all means, sir! I’ve whistled for another man, +and the ambulance to take him away,” significantly. For +if he owned a valuable bull-terrier he would not run the +risk of having him destroyed as dangerous on account of +carrion like the man on the ground.</p> + +<p>“It’s who?” said Tommy.</p> + +<p>“French Pete!” sharply. If the boy was fool enough +to stay, it was his own fault if he lost the dog. Mr. +Garrety, for all his uniform, pined to lay hands on him +himself.</p> + +<p>“Let me see his face,” cried Tommy thickly, and as +the man turned the unconscious head in the light of a +pocket lantern, Sir Thomas gurgled unintelligibly in his +throat.</p> + +<p>It was the man he had seen in the wood, the man he +had followed from Mrs. Murray’s—and ever since the +policeman had called him by a strange name he had been +mad with fear that Jacobs had pinned some other man. +But this was he. Looked at closely, he was dark-haired, +square-chinned, and blue with constant shaving; oddly +like a gentleman in the pallor of his faint.</p> + +<p>The policeman, on his knees, went through French +Pete’s pockets with accustomed fingers.</p> + +<p>“Look!” he said, and held up something. “That’s the +sort of man he is! Now, what in the world had you +to do with him?”</p> + +<p>The boy stared, snatched at the dusky object that lay +in an immaculate handkerchief, held it to the face on +Policeman Garrety’s arm.</p> + +<p>“It’s him!” he screamed.</p> + +<p>For the mystery lay before him of who had worn +Adrian Gordon’s clothes.</p> + +<p>He turned wildly on the astounded policeman.</p> + +<p>“Go up-stairs,” he cried; “up to the very top. He left +a parcel up there; that’s why I followed him. It’s a——” +but he stopped. It was only guesswork about that parcel. +But something else came to him—the intuition of why +this man had come here at all.</p> + +<p>“I think you’ll find more up there than a parcel,” he +said quite quietly, and he poured out the whole story that +had been irrelevant scraps an hour ago, and now dovetailed +into a neat whole. All except what was in the +parcel, for in his hurry he forgot it. But he said enough +to send Garrety up-stairs on the run.</p> + +<p>“You stay here,” the man said as he went. “Here’s +my whistle. You blow it if he stirs. But he won’t; he +landed on his head,” and he was gone as Tommy caught +the whistle.</p> + +<p>The house was empty now, but in another hour the +inmates would be strolling back, and one policeman in +Bethnal Court would be extremely likely to get his head +broken.</p> + +<p>Tommy sat in a cold sweat on the greasy stones. His +head was swimming, and it seemed to him as if the prostrate +man before him was moving. He got up, staggered, +tried to blow the whistle, and fell in a dead faint. +His triumph was slipping through his fingers.</p> + +<p>A woman sauntered into the yard and nearly walked +over him. Jacobs growled, and then yelled. With wild +barks and whines he danced round her, slobbered over +her dirty hands, and she screamed. The next instant she +had the dog round the neck, dragged him to the gaslight +at the entrance of the court, and after one look +fell to hugging him.</p> + +<p>“Jack! it’s Jack!” she cried. “My Jack, that I’ve never +seen since that devil half-killed him and left him on the +road. Oh, my dog, my dog!” and the tears that had long +since dried up in her miserable eyes streamed down now.</p> + +<p>Long ago, when Moll Price had been “Pretty Molly” +in her village, she had been given a bull-terrier puppy. +When she ran away with a man who said he was a gentleman, +and turned out to be a devil, she had taken the +dog. And the man she loved had beaten her and her +dog; had dragged them over half of England, living +by their wits, poor, driven to tramp the roads, till one +day he had struck her once too often, and the half-grown +terrier bit him. Many and many a time in her +dreams had Moll Price seen the brutal kick that broke +the dog’s ribs, the blow on the head that stunned him; +many a time felt the strong hand that hurried her away, +powerless, leaving her only friend dead on a country +road.</p> + +<p>She had been half-drunk when she entered the yard; +she was sober as she remembered she had stumbled over +a man; a fierce hope rose in her as he ran back to the +place.</p> + +<p>After three years of freedom her master had found +her out, had come to her with a heavy hand and a +story she knew was a lie. Could that be he that +lay upon the stones, and had Jack had his revenge at +last? For she knew the blood the dog had shed, blood +that never forgot or forgave.</p> + +<p>She fumbled in her pocket, found a match, lit it.</p> + +<p>“It’s him!” she cried, with fierce rejoicing, “and I hope +he’s dead.”</p> + +<p>She looked at the senseless boy beside him in his gentleman’s +clothes, at the dog that ran from her to him +and licked his face.</p> + +<p>“There’s been queer work here!” she thought soberly, +for French Pete’s torn clothes told their tale. “But they +sha’n’t find out and kill Jack. They’re cruel hard on +dogs in London, and he wasn’t muzzled. They’d take +him for that alone.”</p> + +<p>She was a strong woman; she lifted the boy easily +enough, called the dog in a whisper, and went into the +house. But not far. A footstep, too well-shod to belong +to any of the inmates, caught her ears. She laid the boy +flat under the stairs, crawled in beside him with the dog +in her arms. After what seemed an hour, the heavy footsteps +clumped down over her head and went out. Even +then she dared not move. It would take all she knew to +get this boy up to her room without having to be quick.</p> + +<p>Outside in the court Policeman Garrety stood dumfounded. +Boy and dog had vanished, but that he had +half-expected, and whatever he had found up-stairs it was +not what he had been told was there. But French Pete, +who had lain like a log, was gone, too.</p> + +<p>He stumped away beside the useless ambulance, and +was only sure he had not dreamed the whole thing because +of a parcel he held under his arm.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XL">CHAPTER XL.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">AT THE HINGES OF DEATH.</p> + + +<p>“Adrian and I! I and Adrian!”</p> + +<p>Lady Levallion had reason to look like a dead woman +as she stood in court, and looked once—but once—round +the sea of hostile and curious faces. Not till her own +lawyers had begged for an adjournment on account of +the absence of one of their principal witnesses—and been +refused—did she know that Tommy was missing, and +the grip of despair caught her as she heard it. Not on +her own account, for Tommy had little enough to say +that would help her, but for sheer terror that the boy +was hurt or killed somewhere in London.</p> + +<p>When they had told her that she was not to stand alone +in the dock, but Adrian as well, she had never said a +word, had never glanced at him all the time in court, but +now, when the prosecution had finished, she looked at +his face and saw there what she knew. Unless there was +a miracle from the skies they two would be found guilty.</p> + +<p>“Adrian and I,” she kept repeating to herself, and her +cold hands grew wet.</p> + +<p>For the prosecution had swept away any and every +chance for them.</p> + +<p>The housekeeper, against her will, had been forced to +confess what was quite true, that Lady Levallion had +often come to the still-room and learned to make distilled +waters. The coroner swore that such a water made +from laurel-leaves had killed Lord Levallion, and every +servant in the house at the time of the murder had +proved they had nothing to do with it.</p> + +<p>And slowly, with silky questions, the prosecution +showed their reasons for arresting Captain Gordon as +her accomplice. His supposed alibi in London on the +night of the murder did not hold water. He had dined +with a man at a restaurant, it was true, but between that +and the card-party at his own rooms there had been +three hours unaccounted for. And those three hours +could easily have taken him to Levallion Castle and back. +And the very absence of Sir Thomas Annesley was made +into the certainty that the boy was staying away on purpose, +lest he should have to repeat his evidence of seeing +Captain Gordon in a wood in those very tweed clothes +of which a piece had been found in Levallion’s room. +No one could prove Captain Gordon had not been in the +wood, and the theory of a stranger in his clothes was +shown to be absurd. His tailor, beyond the fact that +Captain Gordon owed him fifty pounds, could say nothing +as to what he had made for him. The only entry in his +books were uniforms and “tweeds, fifteen guineas.” +Nothing else. Adrian remembered that he had never +had a bill for the clothes, and on saying that fifteen +guineas could not possibly represent one suit alone, was +shown that it easily could.</p> + +<p>As for any tale of a strange woman being seen hanging +about Levallion Castle, it was openly laughed at. +Lord Chayter, who swore to the face at the window, had +to confess that Levallion had assured him he was mistaken. +And in the absence of Sir Thomas Annesley there +was no one to prove that woman in the wood had not +been Lady Levallion herself. She had certainly left the +drawing-room.</p> + +<p>The terms on which the prisoners were left no room +for doubt; indeed, they had openly discussed the death +of Lord Levallion—one of them had made no bones about +speaking of poison. And the winding up of the matter +was this: In the wood at night the two had arranged matters. +Captain Gordon had come down from London unknown +to any one but Lady Levallion, had poisoned with +laurel water given him by her a bottle of Eau de Vie +Magique which he had brought with him—for such another +bottle had been found in his London rooms—and +had been frightened by Sir Thomas’ dog into going away +without these two incriminating bottles found in Lady +Levallion’s bedroom. The prosecution did not mean to +say that the guilty pair had foreseen that night would +give them their opportunity—merely that on being put +into their hands they had made use of it. Probably Captain +Gordon had come merely to see his cousin’s wife +clandestinely, but that the two had been overcome by +temptation could not be doubted.</p> + +<p>No one but Lady Levallion could have placed those +bottles in her bedroom, as no servant had been away +from the others during the evening, and no one of the +guests but Lady Gwendolen Brook—who had cleared herself +by being able to relate the exact words of a quarrel +between Lord and Lady Levallion in the lower hall, a +quarrel of which Lacy also was cognizant.</p> + +<p>Surely no intelligent juror could doubt which way the +evidence tended. As for bringing in an innocent woman +like Mrs. Murray, the prosecution had nothing but contempt +for so far-fetched a story. If Sir Thomas Annesley +had a piece of the cloak which Captain Gordon, +on no evidence whatever, supposed to be Mrs. Murray’s, +why was he not in court to produce it? It seemed that +he had excellent reason to stay away.</p> + +<p>And to all this Ravenel’s lawyer had nothing to reply, +except that letter from the Pension Bocage and that +mouse-eaten telegram. He spun them out as long as he +could, and to no earthly purpose. Ravenel, in the dock, +never looked up, but only prayed he would be done—make +an end, and let her get back to prison out of the +range of those countless eyes that lost not one line in her +anguished face.</p> + +<p>But Adrian Gordon—and the court wondered at his +shameless bearing—stood staring at his own lawyer, who +would not look at him.</p> + +<p>There was a stir in the court, but Gordon’s face was +turned from the door. Only Monsieur Carrousel, standing, +an idle and pitiful spectator, who might be cross-questioned +by the defense on a subject of which he knew +nothing, suddenly changed color and moved loungingly +to the door. But the packed room would not make way +for him.</p> + +<p>“My lord,” said Ravenel’s lawyer suddenly, as if something +for which he had been waiting had happened, “we +can now produce our missing witnesses!” And Adrian +thought the man had gone suddenly crazy, for he called +Pierre Carrousel.</p> + +<p>And Carrousel, after one glance behind him, came with +a light laugh. Yet the first question astonished him, for +it was about Towers, the boot-boy.</p> + +<p>“I took him to his place,” he said jauntily; “there I +left him. The housekeeper heard from him the next +morning. I know no more.”</p> + +<p>“In that case,” returned Ravenel’s counsel, “you can +step down. I will call Mary Price.”</p> + +<p>Carrousel turned livid, tried to leave the room, and +found his way unaccountably blocked by a strange policeman.</p> + +<p>And all the while Adrian Gordon stared, as if the world +had suddenly gone mad.</p> + +<p>“Do you know any one in this court-room?” The +question made the new witness, a woman in soiled finery, +look at him contemptuously.</p> + +<p>“I know him!” she cried, and she pointed, not at +Adrian Gordon, as the crowd expected, but at Lord Levallion’s +innocent cook. “That’s what I come for. My +name is Mary Price, and I lived with him for three +years, till he deserted me. My father kept a public house +in Southsea, and I was barmaid. I ran away with this +man, who said his name was Archer. He ill-treated me, +took me to a London slum, and lived on what I earned.”</p> + +<p>Carrousel interrupted coolly. He had had time to +glance round the court, and saw no newcomer but Mary +Price. The missing links in the defense were missing +still.</p> + +<p>“I never saw this woman in my life!” he cried. “She +is a liar! My name never was Archer—never! She cannot +know me.”</p> + +<p>The woman gave him a deadly glance.</p> + +<p>“I never said your name was Archer,” she said coolly; +“only that you told me it was. And if I don’t know you, +why—there’s some one else who will! Am I to go on, +sir?” to the lawyer, who nodded.</p> + +<p>“What his real name is, I don’t know,” she said, “but +the people where we lived in London called him French +Pete. He’d got tired of me, and I hated him, for he’d +killed my dog that I’d brought from home, made me +leave him for dead on a country road—we were tramping +to London then. After he left me I saw nothing of him +for a year; then I met him in the street dressed like a +gentleman. He gave me money, and found out where I +lived. I was pretty low, and I was afraid of him besides.</p> + +<p>“Just a week ago he came to my room and brought +a boy. Said he’d been cruelly treated in his place, and +would I look after him. He’d pay me. And I did. But +the boy seemed so queer that I was afraid to leave him +alone—stupidlike and terrified. When I went out I’d +put him in a loft there was over my room. The ceiling +was all cracked and stained, and no one would see the +trap. I put him there because from what he talked of +in his sleep I knew Archer meant him no good. The +boy knew something. And, for fear Archer would get +in while I was out and do away with him and say it was +me, I used to keep him hid away most of the time. He +was up there when Garrety broke in my room that night +and got the paper parcel.”</p> + +<p>Not a soul knew what she meant. The prosecution had +never heard of Policeman Garrety, any more than had +Adrian Gordon, and the former was ill-advised enough +to say so.</p> + +<p>“That’s him there!” said Miss Price, “and perhaps +it’d be better for him to speak before I go on.” Which +was allowed, after some dispute, and at the policeman’s +evidence Carrousel stood like a creature demented.</p> + +<p>“Certainly I know that man,” he said simply, “I’ve +known him for years as French Pete, the best cook in +London when he chose to work. But I know him better +without his beard,” and before Carrousel could move he +had leaned backward to a brother policeman, who coolly +tweaked the chestnut beard from the cook’s face.</p> + +<p>A confused murmur ran round the court, and Adrian +Gordon stood more confounded than Carrousel. Tommy +had been right—it was that man, and no other, he had +seen going into Hester Murray’s house.</p> + +<p>“It was like that I see him lying stunned like in Bethnal +Court near a week ago,” pursued the policeman +calmly, and it was Allington’s turn to start, for he had +never dreamed that Carrousel had ever left Levallion +Castle since the night he knew of, “and there was a dog +standing over him and a boy beside him. And when I +emptied his pockets and held his false beard to his face +the boy calls out Carrousel, and says if I went up-stairs +I’d find another boy that he had detected, and a parcel +he’d just left there. There was no boy, and I come down, +and there wasn’t a soul in the court—French Pete, nor +the boy, nor the dog! But I’d got the parcel right +enough, and here it is.” He produced before the whole +court a black satin cloak lined with chinchilla.</p> + +<p>And cross-examination failed to get anything more +out of him except that not until yesterday had he known +that the cloak he had left at Scotland Yard was wanted +in this trial.</p> + +<p>“I ain’t no detective,” he said quietly, “I never leave +my beat. And yesterday it took me to Bethnal Court, +and there I found out. The girl will tell you that it was +I kicked her door down for her no later than yesterday +afternoon. I don’t know nothing of what went between.”</p> + +<p>“I do,” said Molly Price, and she swallowed in her +throat as at a memory that hurt her. “That night Garrety +tells of I come into Bethnal Court on my way home. +I live there. And as I was going into the house I fell +over something. I saw ’twas Archer, or French Pete, or +whatever he chose to call himself, and I thought he was +dead. And then a dog—my dog that I thought he killed +long ago,” tears blinding her—“jumped at me! He knew +me after all those years, just as he’d known Archer. I +know there’d been bad work by the look of Archer’s +clothes, and I was afraid for my Jack if they found him. +I looked at the boy that was lying on the ground in a +faint, and I felt kindly toward him because Jack seemed +to love him—and I said to myself he shouldn’t get into +no trouble either. So I took them up to my room—after +waiting awhile, because I heard some one up there, and +if I’d known all I do now I’d have come out that second—and +there they’ve been ever since. First Towers was +like to die, but Sir Thomas worked over him night and +day.”</p> + +<p>“Towers!” Adrian Gordon’s face grew like that of a +man who sees a hope dawning, very faint and far, but +still hope. Ravenel never looked up. She knew nothing +about the boot-boy.</p> + +<p>“And then?” came a question.</p> + +<p>“Well, it wasn’t till yesterday that we got Towers to +talk, and then we’d never nearly got here at all,” grimly. +“Sir Thomas had no money, but I’d sixpence, and when +he was going out to wire to you that he’d found out +Towers, why, we couldn’t get out! Archer’d put some +dodge on my door so he could open it from outside, and +it had got out of order. We couldn’t get the door open, +and kicking was no good, for it opened inside. Nobody +heard us yelling, for there was a row in the house down-stairs. +And that really let us out, for Garrety was there +professionally”—calmly—“and he heard me shouting +‘Help!’ and come and knocked the door in. So here we +comes this morning. It wouldn’t have been any use to let +strangers and police know we was there before, for +Towers was frightened, and wouldn’t talk. But he isn’t +now.” And Towers, white and weak from what had +nearly wrecked his brain, stood up before the court.</p> + +<p>Carrousel glared at him. But the eyes he had once +obeyed dumbly had lost their power. The boot-boy +quivered, but he spoke:</p> + +<p>“I was the boot-boy,” he began timidly. “I did the +cook’s errands. He told me——”</p> + +<p>“He lies!” yelled Carrousel, shaking his fist. “I beat +and beat him because he was a liar, and lazy.”</p> + +<p>“You have not heard the lie yet,” said the judge +coldly. “Another word, and you leave.”</p> + +<p>“He can’t hurt me, can he?” cried Towers pitifully. +“Sir Thomas said he couldn’t.”</p> + +<p>“He can’t touch you. Go on,” said the lawyer kindly.</p> + +<p>“He told me to pick some laurel-leaves, bunches of +them. He said they were to decorate the table. But I +heard some one in the still-room while I was cleaning +boots, and I looked in. He was chopping them up and +making something. He didn’t know there was a door +in the boot-hole till I creaked it and he saw me. Then +Sir Thomas’ dog was poisoned, and I said to the cook +that perhaps he’d got at what he was making. For everybody +knows laurel-water is poison.”</p> + +<p>A thrill ran through the court as he described the +preparation of that devilish decoction of prussic acid +that every one thought Lady Levallion had made. But +Towers did not see.</p> + +<p>“He beat me,” he said simply, “and said if I said one +word he’d say it was me. And two of the kitchen-maids +had seen me with the laurel leaves, only they didn’t know +they was poison. And I thought I might be wrong, for +the dog got well. I’d forgotten it, when one night late +the footman brought the dirty boots, and I sat down in +the boot-hole to clean them. I saw the cook’s white jacket +and apron in there behind the door, and I picked them +up because I thought he’d beat me if I got blacking on +them. I had them in my hand when the boot-hole door +opened and in he come. He closed the door behind him +quick and soft, and I heard a dog go by, and he stood +there fetching his breath. He had on a tweed suit with +a bit tore out of the trousers. He never said a word—just +grabbed his jacket and apron that I was holding, +and put them on. Then he puts his fingers on my eyes +and forehead just as he’d done once before, the day he +beat me about the laurel-water.</p> + +<p>“‘You don’t know nothing,’ he says, and he slips just +as quiet as nothing through that door into the still-room. +I began to feel as if I hadn’t seen him, and yet I knew +I had. But whenever anybody asked me anything I +couldn’t seem to answer them. I just had to say, ‘I don’t +know nothing.’ But after that I wouldn’t let him touch +my face. I’d lie down and hide it, and let him beat me +nearly to death. Once Sir Thomas caught him at it. +He’d nearly got me that time. It sounds crazy,” apologetically, +“but it seemed to me it was his hands on my +face that made me say what he told me. I knew all the +time it was him changed the bottles and put one in her +ladyship’s room, for I see him put the laurel-water into a +little blue bottle the day he made it, and ’twas that they +found in her ladyship’s room. But I couldn’t tell—and +then he took me to London because he said they was saying +I killed his lordship, and he wanted to save me. He’d +stopped beating me and got kind. But when he left me +at a lady’s house he told me not to stay there, as it was +there they’d look for me. I ran out the kitchen door, and +that’s all I know”—wearily—“till I sort of woke up and +saw Sir Thomas and a woman. I didn’t hardly know I +was myself till I saw those trousers the cook give me.”</p> + +<p>“What trousers?” said the prosecuting attorney, and +the next second was sorry he had spoken.</p> + +<p>“The torn ones he was dressed up in, that he’d stolen +from Captain Gordon,” said the witness stolidly. “He +told me Captain Gordon had give them to him, but I +knew he took them, because I saw him coming out of his +room with them, and I knowed he’d no call to be there. +When there was that fuss about them he made me put +them on in the posting-shed and wear them up to London. +I’ve got ’em on now”—simply—“and I found these two +letters down the leg,” producing the Umbrella’s useless, +well-meant warnings.</p> + +<p>“Why did you write from London that you were +happy?” said the prosecution sharply.</p> + +<p>“Me?” said Towers. “Lord, sir, I can’t write.”</p> + +<p>In a dead silence the Umbrella’s letters were read out, +the letters that proved it had been past and not present +meetings for Lady Levallion and Adrian Gordon. And +then, with damning proof against Carrousel and against +the missing Hester Murray, it was shown that Towers’ +supposed epistle and the letter from the pension in Boulogne +were both in the same writing. And the telegram +found in the mouse-hole fitted in with both—for if +Adrian’s detectives had not found Hester Murray they +had found that she had never been in Boulogne at all, +and that the Pension Bocage was kept by Carrousel’s sister. +Adrian’s letter of inquiry had been forwarded to +him, and his answer posted in Boulogne. Sir Thomas +Annesley swore positively that the clean-shaven Carrousel +was the man he had seen in the wood and taken +for Gordon. He had known him in Paddington Station +before he followed him to Bethnal Court.</p> + +<p>The counsel for the Crown observed somewhat hastily +that, even supposing Lord Levallion’s chef had been +guilty of his death, there was no possible reason for supposing +Mrs. Murray to have been the woman seen with +him in the wood by Sir Thomas Annesley. No one had +identified her, or the cloak as her property. To bring in +her name was not only guesswork, but malicious slander—and +Tommy interrupted by saying he had seen Carrousel +take the cloak from her house.</p> + +<p>In the wrangle that ensued Houghton caught the +duchess’ arm.</p> + +<p>“Who’s that woman?” he whispered. “Isn’t it she?”</p> + +<p>The duchess followed his eyes.</p> + +<p>There stood Lady Annesley, emerged from her Harrogate +retirement, perfectly dressed, and calm as a lake.</p> + +<p>Ravenel looked up with a sick shudder and met the +pale eyes of the woman without whom she would have +been Adrian’s wife. What brought Sylvia here? Sylvia!</p> + +<p>“My lord,” said Lady Annesley, addressing the judge, +and scorning the jury, “I have just heard it said that +Hester Murray is an innocent woman. I have brought +something in her own handwriting which may throw a +light on that, and first, if you will allow me, I will tell +you how I came by it. I was not well; I saw no papers +until last week, and then I read of the apprehension of +my stepdaughter for the murder of her husband, and that +other case in which Mrs. Murray claimed the title of +Lady Levallion.</p> + +<p>“I was not on good terms with my stepdaughter”—and +the court, knowing why, believed her—“neither she nor +any one else had written to me of the dreadful death of +Lord Levallion. But, good terms or not”—and Sylvia’s +cleverness had not left her—“I was certain it was impossible +for her to have committed such a crime. It occurred +to me that there was one woman who, with Levallion +in his grave, could do what she would not have +dared while he lived. I went from Harrogate to London; +to the address given as Mrs. Murray’s in the papers, +and she was not there. That made me certain she had +reason to disappear, and I had reason”—slowly—“to +guess where she had gone. She had a son, whom she +chooses to call the present Lord Levallion, and I knew +that the boy had spent most of his childhood with an old +nurse in a wild part of Wales. I went there, on the +chance. I waited till night; I looked in the window, and +there in the old woman’s kitchen sat two women and a +boy. I may tell you that I had a hold on Hester Murray. +I went in and—did not use it! This gentleman will tell +you what happened.”</p> + +<p>She waved her hand to a man, and the court stared as +they saw the ablest detective in England come forward.</p> + +<p>“You see, my story does not stand alone.”</p> + +<p>Mr. David’s story was short enough, perhaps, only +Lady Annesley did not see that it was pitiful.</p> + +<p>“I went to Wales,” he said quietly, “Lady Annesley’s +story to me having confirmed something already told me +by Captain Gordon. We found Mrs. Murray in a farmhouse. +She had not been well for some time, her hurried +flight, her trouble, and a chill had brought on pneumonia. +When we reached her she was sitting by the fire, a dying +woman, who should have been in her bed. Lady Annesley +has told you she had a hold on her. I may tell you +there was no need for it. Mrs. Murray knew she was +dying, had written a letter already to clear herself from +any share in the death of Lord Levallion that might accrue +to her. In fact, she turned queen’s evidence before +she died.”</p> + +<p>There was not a sound as he read that strange, self-excusing +letter, which told how she and no other had +been living in the bungalow all summer. How Lord +Levallion had shaken her off, and how she had formed +the acquaintance in her evening hauntings of Levallion +Castle, of a tall, dark man named Carrousel.</p> + +<p>“He fell in love with me,” Hester Murray’s hand had +written, in the terror of that death which neither judge +nor jury had brought on her; “he used to come and see +me, and bring me things—Levallion’s flowers, fruit—anything +he could lay hands on. And I found out easily +enough that he hated Levallion. One wet night I came +home. I had been looking in the windows at Levallion +Castle. I was watching Lady Levallion and Captain Gordon, +and Levallion caught me. He was so angry I +thought he would kill me. I was beside myself, distraught, +and in my house Carrousel was waiting for me. +I told him all my story—that I knew then. For it was +not till Levallion was dead that I heard about John +Davidge.</p> + +<p>“And Carrousel said it was a very simple business to +pay Levallion out in his own coin. All I need do, he +said, was to go away to London and let Levallion know +it. I could take a lodging near the station, and come up +and down every night unobserved if I got off at the +siding. It did not matter, he said, how circumspect +Lady Levallion and Captain Gordon chose to be, if he +and I could play their parts, and two nights after I met +him in the wood dressed in Adrian Gordon’s clothes. +When first he came up behind me I screamed, for I +thought it was Gordon himself. He showed me a telegram +from his sister in Boulogne; he was to describe me, +and she would say I had been there all summer. He had +champagne; we drank to the health of the new Lord +Levallion, my son; to Captain Gordon and Lady Levallion, +who would put the Levallion I hated out of the +world; and I thought he meant it. Before God, I did not +know what was in Carrousel’s head till it was done, and +he came to me and told me that my cloak might bring +me into it,” and perhaps when she wrote it she believed it.</p> + +<p>In the first hush that followed Carrousel leaned forward.</p> + +<p>“She says I killed him,” he said quietly. “Perhaps I +did. But the woman who wrote that letter put it in my +mind. She knew nothing, she says”—and the venom in +his face was unspeakable—“she knew she told me that +she was the true Lady Levallion, who had been wronged +and betrayed; that if I avenged her she would marry me! +She laughed when I said in the wood that night how I +could avenge her. Laughed then—and afterward, when +I told her it was done, and how—put her fingers in her +ears, and said she had no hand in it. A man has just +said she is dead, and it is well for her. For if she were +alive I could tell you what would hang her as well as it +will execute me.”</p> + +<p>For a long moment no one spoke. Then a sharp question +was asked Lady Annesley by the prosecution regarding +the hold she had said she had over Mrs. Murray.</p> + +<p>“A very simple one,” she answered, “but I can prove +it. She claimed she was Countess of Levallion, because, +as was perfectly true, she had been married to Lord +Levallion after the death of John Davidge. What she +did not know was that she was never Davidge’s wife at +all. He married me, two years before he ever saw Mrs. +Murray, and after his death I became the wife of Sir +Thomas Annesley. Mrs. Murray’s only legal marriage +was with Murray himself, who is now recovering from +an operation in Guy’s Hospital. And here is my marriage-certificate, +which proves what I say.”</p> + +<p>A thunderbolt could not have made more sensation. +Every one knew her name had been Davidge, but no one +had connected her in any way with Hester Murray.</p> + +<p>She stepped down as coolly as she had come up.</p> + +<p>The judge, after a stupefied pause, addressed the jury, +but they did not even leave their box.</p> + +<p>Lady Levallion and Captain Gordon stood acquitted, +without a stain, and Carrousel, Archer, or whatever his +true name might be, was committed for trial on the +counts of conspiracy and murder.</p> + +<p>Through two long and awful days Ravenel had never +winced, had stood, like a stone image that breathed and +spoke, before a hundred hostile, curious faces. But now +that she was free she covered her eyes with that ringless +left hand that the whole court had marveled at.</p> + +<p>It is no light thing to move away from the hinges of +death and see another take your place there. But in all +the room not another soul had pity for Carrousel.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_XLI">CHAPTER XLI.</h2> +</div> + +<p class="center">“I LOVED YOU BEST.”</p> + + +<p>Lady Annesley, having worked much evil, had wiped +it out. Yet her stepdaughter never saw her after that +day in court. A few lies, a scrap of india-rubber, had +cost two men’s lives, and a woman’s good name.</p> + +<p>Levallion “had been kind,” had died indirectly because +he chose to marry her. Ravenel turned from the dock +and went away with Tommy and the duchess, knowing +that in a way the dead man had been dear to her, neither +as lover nor husband, but as a friend whose love had +passed knowledge.</p> + +<p>And Adrian Gordon let her go; let time pass till +Tommy was in the service and Mr. Jacobs fighting with +all the dogs in Aldershot. And one day in May could +wait no more.</p> + +<p>By the lake at Avonmore she was sitting when, at the +sound of his step on the gravel, she looked up and saw +him.</p> + +<p>“Adrian!” she said, forgetting that for this many a +day he had been Lord Levallion. But she got no further, +for the look in his eyes that were on her face.</p> + +<p>“May I come and speak to you?” he asked quite simply, +as a child does, but his mouth had the same look as his +eyes. “You’ve traveled a long way without me, Nel. +Won’t you—come home?”</p> + +<p>And she knew what he meant. There was only one +home in the world for her, in Adrian Gordon’s arms. +Perhaps she had no pride, for without a word she went +there.</p> + +<p>In the May sun he looked at her, as in one May two +years past. There was no change—but there was! He +had never dreamed she was so beautiful. But as he +would have kissed her she pushed him away.</p> + +<p>“It isn’t fair to you!” she cried. “People will say +things if you marry me.”</p> + +<p>“We won’t hear them,” he returned, and in so much +the manner of the dead and gone Levallion that she cried +out.</p> + +<p>“You never half-knew him, Adrian! He was good to +me.”</p> + +<p>“My sweetheart,” he said, with a queer understanding +of her loyalty to the dead.</p> + +<p>“He was a better man than you,” she cried, and her +eyes filled with tears. “But, oh, Adrian, I loved you +best.”</p> + + +<p class="p2 center">THE END.</p> + +<p class="p2">No. 1175 of the <span class="smcap">New Eagle Series</span> is “They Met +by Chance,” by Ida Reade Allen. This story contains so +much charm and beauty that it will surely intrigue you.</p> + + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> + +<div class="bbox"> + +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Only_One_Best"><span class="large">Only One Best</span></h2> +</div> + +<figure class="figcenter illowe8" id="i2"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i2.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + + +<p class="medium">The best paper-covered books are +S. & S. NOVELS; consequently they +are imitated.</p> + +<p class="medium">When you ask for an S. & S. NOVEL, +be sure that you get an S. & S. NOVEL, +and save yourself disappointment.</p> + +<p class="medium">We have 1500 different titles to offer +you, most of them copyrights.</p> + +<p class="medium">A complete catalog may be secured +from your dealer or we will send one +free upon request.</p> + +<figure class="figcenter illowe8" id="i2a"> + <img class="w100" src="images/i2.jpg" alt=""> +</figure> + +<p class="center medium"> +<span class="medium">Street & Smith Corporation</span><br> +79 SEVENTH AVENUE<br> +NEW YORK CITY<br> +</p> +</div> + +<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> +<div class="transnote"> +<div class="chapter"> +<h2 class="nobreak" id="Transcribers_Notes">Transcriber’s Notes:</h2> +</div> + + +<p>Originally serialized in <i>Street & Smith’s New York Weekly</i> from +Apr. 21, 1900 to Aug. 11, 1900 under the title <i>The Girl of His +Heart; or, Levallion’s Heir</i>.</p> + +<p>Some chapter titles have been changed in this edition from the original +serial; for example, chapter VI was originally called “THE TENDER MERCIES +OF THE WICKED.” In the original, chapter XXIV had no title and +began with the poetic quotation: “My blood is chill; his blood is cold; +His death is full, and mine begun.”</p> + +<p>Obvious typographical errors have been silently corrected.</p> + +<p>This sentence was garbled in the book edition and has been restored here +from the original serial appearance: “After three years of freedom her master +had found her out, had come to her with a heavy hand and a story she knew was +a lie.”</p> + +<p>Table of contents has been added and placed into the public domain by +the transcriber.</p> + +<p>Inconsistent hyphenation (e.g. upstairs vs. up-stairs) is preserved from +the original text. +</p> +</div> +<div style='text-align:center'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 77154 ***</div> +</body> +</html> diff --git a/77154-h/images/cover.jpg b/77154-h/images/cover.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..85fb1fc --- /dev/null +++ b/77154-h/images/cover.jpg diff --git a/77154-h/images/i1.jpg b/77154-h/images/i1.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..11898e6 --- /dev/null +++ b/77154-h/images/i1.jpg diff --git a/77154-h/images/i2.jpg b/77154-h/images/i2.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..91e1153 --- /dev/null +++ b/77154-h/images/i2.jpg diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6c72794 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This book, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. 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