"I suppose you'll tell me next that you were my secretary in my bachelor
days?" I said at last.
"Certainly I was."
"And you say that you were actually present at the church, and saw me
married?" I cried, absolutely incredulous.
"I was. You were married at St Andrew's, Wells Street. It was a smart
wedding, too, for Mrs Fordyce was very well known in society, and had a
large circle of friends."
"Fordyce?" I echoed, puzzled.
"Yes, that was Mrs Heaton's name before her marriage with you."
"Then she was a widow?" I gasped.
He nodded in the affirmative.
I groaned. The affair grew more puzzling now that he declared himself
an actual witness of my matrimonial misfortune.
But how could such a thing have taken place without my knowledge? It
was impossible. The mystery, like the strange incidents which had
preceded this remarkable situation in which I found myself, grew more
and more inexplicable each hour.
We went forth, together, passing from room to room through the great
country mansion. The place was handsome, of rather modern type,
furnished glaringly in the manner which bespoke the parvenu. It
possessed no mellow, time-worn appearance, as did the dear old Manor
House beside the Severn. The furniture and hangings were too apparently
of the Tottenham Court Road type, and the art displayed was that of the
art furnisher given _carte blanche_ to furnish with the newest and most
fashionable fancies in the matter of wallpapers, dadoes, cornices, and
art-pottery. There were art-carpets and art-curtains, art-cupboards and
art-chairs, art-china and art-chintzes. Art was everywhere in painful
enamel and impossible greens. There were pictures, too, but different,
indeed, to the long row of noble faces with their ruffles and doublets
and their arms painted on shields in the corners that looked down so
solemnly in the great hall at Heaton. The pictures in that modern
mansion were of the _queue-de-siecle_ French school, daubs by the
miscalled impressionists, some being rather too _chic_ to be decent.
That a large amount of money had been expended upon the place I could
not doubt, but the effect was that of dazzling the gaze by colour, and
nowhere seemed there a good, comfortable old-fashioned sitting-room.
All the apartments were arranged to please the eye, and not for personal
comfort. The house was just the kind that a man suddenly successful in
the city might set up in the vain endeavour to develop into a country
gentleman; for to become such is the ideal of every silk-hatted business
man, whether he trades in stocks or stockings.
"That I should be compelled to show you over your own house is, to say
the least, very amusing," said Gedge, as we were passing up the grand
staircase. "If people were told of this they wouldn't believe it
possible."
"I myself don't believe what you tell me is possible," I remarked. "But
who gave orders for this furniture?"
"You did."
"And who chose it--approved of the designs, and all that sort of thing?"
"You certainly did," he answered. "Some of the ideas were, of course,
Mrs Heaton's."
"I thought so. I don't believe myself capable of such barbaric taste as
those awful blues and greens in the little sitting-room."
"The morning-room you mean."
"I suppose so. The whole place is like a furniture show-room--this
style complete, thirty-five guineas, and so on. You know the sort of
thing I mean."
He smiled in amusement at my words.
"Your friends all admire the place," he remarked.
"What friends?"
"Sir Charles Stimmel, Mr Larcombe, Lady Fraser, and people of that
class."
"I never heard of them in all my life. Who are they?" I inquired,
interested.
"Friends of yours. They visit here often enough. You surely ought to
know them. Lady Fraser is your wife's dearest friend."
"Fraser?" I said reflectively. "The only Fraser I know is a baker in
Clare Market, who supplies my old servant, Mrs Parker, with bread."
Then, after a pause, I added, "And you say that these people are friends
of mine? Have I many friends?"
"Lots. A rich man has always plenty of good-humoured acquaintances."
"They like to come down here for a breath of country air, I suppose,
eh?" I laughed.
"That's about it," he answered. "A good many of them are not very
sincere in their friendship, I fear. The man who has money, lives well,
keeps a good table, and has choice wines in his cellar need never be at
a loss for genial companions."
"You seem to be a bit of a philosopher, my friend." I remarked.
He smiled knowingly.
"I haven't acted as your secretary without learning a few of the crooked
ways of the world."
"What?" I exclaimed. "Don't I always act honestly, then?" This was
something entirely new.
"Nobody can be honest in finance."
"Well," I said, resenting his imputation, "I wasn't aware that I had
ever swindled a person of sixpence in my life."
"Sixpences in such sums as they deal in at Winchester House don't count.
It's the thousands."
We passed a couple of gaping maid-servants in long-stringed caps, who
stood aside, looking at me in wonder. No doubt the news that a demented
man was in the house had reached the servants' hall. I was, in fact, on
show to the domestics.
"Then you mean to imply that these financial dealings of mine--of which,
by the way, I have no knowledge whatsoever--are not always quite
straight?" I said, as we walked together down a long carpeted corridor.
He looked at me in hesitation.
"It's, of course, business," he answered--"sharp business. I don't mean
to imply that the dealings at Winchester House are any more unfair than
those of any other financier in the City; but sometimes, you know,
there's just a flavour of smartness about them that might be
misconstrued by a clever counsel in a criminal court."
"What?" I cried, halting and glaring at him. "Now, be frank with me,
Gedge. Tell me plainly, have I ever swindled anybody?"
"Certainly not," he said, laughing. "Why, it's this very smartness that
has made you what you are to-day--a millionaire. If you had not been
very wide awake and shrewd you'd have been ruined long ago."
"Then, I suppose, I'm well known in the city, eh?"
"Your name's as well known as Bennett's clock, and your credit stands as
high as any one's between Ludgate Hill and Fenchurch Street."
"Extraordinary!" I said. "What you tell me sounds like some remarkable
fairy tale."
"The balance at your banker's is sufficient proof that what I say is
truth," he remarked. "There may be a good many fairy tales in certain
prospectuses, but there certainly is none in your financial soundness."
We wandered on from room to room. There must, I think, have been quite
thirty sleeping apartments, guests' rooms, etc, all furnished in that
same glaring style, that greenery-yellow abomination miscalled art.
"The next room," explained my secretary, as we approached the end of the
corridor, "is Mrs Heaton's boudoir. I expect she's in there. I saw
Dalton, her maid, enter a moment ago."
"Oh, for Heaven's sake, leave her alone!" I said, turning at once on my
heel. I had no wish to meet that awful rejuvenated hag again.
I fancy Gedge smiled, but if he did he was very careful to hide his
amusement from me. He was, without doubt, a very well-trained
secretary.
The thought of Mabel Anson crossed my mind. All the recollections of
the dinner on the previous night, and the startling discoveries I
subsequently made recurred to me at that moment, and I felt dazed and
bewildered. This painted and powdered person could surely not be my
wife, when I loved Mabel Anson with all my soul! Only yesterday I had
sat at her side at dinner, and had felt the pressure of her soft,
delicate hand upon mine. No; it could not be that I was actually
married. Such a thing was utterly impossible, for surely no man could
go through the marriage ceremony without knowing something about it.
Hickman's treachery angered me. Why, I wondered, had he enticed me to
his rooms in order to make that extraordinary attempt upon my life? The
wound upon my head was undoubtedly due to the blow he had dealt me. The
theory that I had accidentally knocked my head against the marble statue
and broken it was, I felt assured, only one of that fool Britten's
brilliant ideas with which he misled his too-confiding patients. If
this were so, then all the incidents subsequent to my recovery of
consciousness were part of the conspiracy which had commenced on the
previous night with Hickman's attempt.
We descended the stairs, passing the footman Gill, who with a bow,
said--
"I hope, sir, you feel better."
"A little," I answered. "Bring me a whisky and soda to the library."
And the man at once disappeared to do my bidding. "I suppose he think's
I'm mad," I remarked. "This is a very remarkable _menage_, to say the
least."
In the great hall, as I walked towards the library, was a long mirror,
and in passing I caught sight of my own figure in it. I stopped, and
with a loud cry of wonder and dismay stood before it, glaring at my own
reflection.
The bandages about my head gave me a terribly invalid appearance, but
reflected by that glass I saw a sight which struck me dumb with
amazement. I could not believe my eyes; the thing staggered belief.
On the morning before I had shaved as usual, but the glass showed that I
now wore a well cut, nicely reddish-brown beard!
My face seemed to have changed curiously. I presented an older
appearance than on the day before. My hair seemed to have lost its
youthful lustre, and upon my brow were three distinct lines--the lines
of care.
I felt my beard with eager hands. Yes, there was no mistake. It was
there, but how it had grown was inconceivable.
Beyond, through the open door, I saw the brilliant sunlight, the green
lawn, the bright flowers and cool foliage of the rustling trees.
It was summer. Yet only yesterday was chill, dark winter, with
threatening snow.
Had I been asleep like Rip Van Winkle in the legend? "Tell me," I cried
excitedly, turning to the man standing behind me, "what's the day of the
month to-day?"
"The seventeenth of July."
"July?" I echoed. "And what year is this?"
"Why, eighteen hundred and ninety-six, of course."
"Ninety-six!" I gasped, standing glaring at him in blank amazement.
"Ninety-six?"
"Certainly. Why?"
"Am I really losing my senses?" I cried, dismayed. "_Yesterday was six
years ago_!"