MR. PIKE'S VISIT.
Percival Elster was in truth Earl of Hartledon. By one of those
unexpected calamities, which are often inexplicable--and which most
certainly was so as yet in the present instance--a promising young life
had been snapped asunder, and another reigned in his place. In one short
hour Val Elster, who had scarcely cross or coin to call his own, had been
going in danger of arrest from one moment to another, had become a peer
of the realm and a man of wealth.
As they laid the body down in a small room opening from the hall, and his
late companions and guests crowded around in awe-struck silence, there
was one amidst them who could not control his grief and emotion. It was
poor Val. Pushing aside the others, never heeding them in his bitter
sorrow, he burst into passionate sobs as he leaned over the corpse. And
none of them thought the worse of Val for it.
"Oh, Percival! how did it happen?"
The speaker was Dr. Ashton. Little less affected himself, he clasped the
young man's hand in token of heartfelt sympathy.
"I cannot think _how_ it could have happened," replied Percival, when
able to control his feelings sufficiently to speak. "It seems awfully
strange to me--mysteriously so."
"If he found himself going wrong, why didn't he shout out?" asked young
Carteret, with a rueful face. "I couldn't have helped hearing him."
It was a question that was passing through the minds of all; was being
whispered about. How could it have happened? The body presented the usual
appearance of death from drowning; but close to the left temple was a
wound, and the face was otherwise disfigured. It must have been done,
they thought, by coming into contact with something or other in the
water; perhaps the skiff itself. Arm and ankle were both much swollen.
Nothing was certainly known as yet of Lord Hartledon from the time Mr.
Carteret parted company with him, to the time when the body was found. It
appeared that these Irish labourers were going home from their work,
singing as they went, their road lying past the mill, when they were
spoken to by the miller's boy. He stood on the species of estrade which
the miller had placed there for his own convenience, bending down as far
as his young head and shoulders could reach, and peering into the water
attentively. "I think I see some'at in the stream," quoth he, and the men
stopped; and after a short time, proceeded to search. It proved to be the
dead body of Lord Hartledon, caught amongst the reeds.
It was rather a curious coincidence that Percival Elster and his servants
in the last search should have heard the voices of the labourers singing
in the distance. But they were too far off on their return to Hartledon
to be within hearing when the men found the body.
The news spread; people came up from far and near, and Hartledon was
besieged. Mr. Hillary, the surgeon, gave it as his opinion that the wound
on the temple, no doubt caused before death, had rendered Lord Hartledon
insensible, and unable to extricate himself from the water. The mill and
cottage were built on what might be called an arm of the river. Lord
Hartledon had no business there at all; but the current was very strong;
and if, as was too probable, he had become almost disabled, he might have
drifted to it without being able to help himself; or he might have been
making for it, intending to land and rest in the cottage until help could
be summoned to convey him home. How he got into the water was not known.
Once in the water, the blow was easy enough to receive; he might have
struck against the estrade.
There is almost sure to be some miserable coincidence in these cases to
render them doubly unfortunate. For three weeks past, as the miller
testified--a respectable man named Floyd--his mill had not been deserted;
some one, man, boy, or woman, had always been there. On this afternoon it
was closed, mill and cottage too, and all were away. What might have been
simply a slight accident, had help been at hand, had terminated in an
awful death for the want of it.
It was eleven o'clock before anything like order was restored at
Hartledon, and the house left in quiet. The last person to quit it was
Dr. Ashton. Hedges, the butler, had been showing him out, and was
standing for a minute on the steps looking after him, and perhaps to
cool, with a little fresh air, his perplexed brow--for the man was a
faithful retainer, and the affair had shocked him in no common
degree--when he was accosted by Pike, who emerged stealthily from behind
one of the outer pillars, where he seemed to have been sheltering.
"Why, what have you been doing there?" exclaimed the butler.
"Mr. Hedges, I've been waiting here--hiding, if you like to call it so,"
was the answer; and it should be observed that the man's manner, quite
unlike his usual rough, devil-may-care tone, was characterized by
singular respect and earnestness. To hear him, and not see him, you might
think you were listening to some staid and respectable friend of the
family. "I have been standing there this hour past, keeping behind the
pillar while other folk went in and out, and waiting my time to speak to
you."
"To me?" repeated Hedges.
"Yes, sir. I want you to grant me a favour; and I hope you'll pardon my
boldness in asking it."
Hedges did not know what to make of this. It was the first time he
had enjoyed the honour of a personal interview with Mr. Pike; and the
contrast between that gentleman's popular reputation and his present tone
and manner struck the butler as exceedingly singular. But that the butler
was in a very softened mood, feeling full of subdued charity towards all
the world, he might not have condescended to parley with the man.
"What is the favour?" he inquired.
"I want you to let me in to see the poor young earl--what's left of him."
"Let you in to see the earl!" echoed Hedges in surprise. "I never heard
such a bold request."
"It is bold. I've already said so, and asked you to pardon it."
"What can you want that for? It can't be for nothing but curiosity;
and--"
"It's not curiosity," interrupted Pike, with an emphasis that told upon
his hearer. "I have a different motive, sir; and a good motive. If I were
at liberty to tell it--which I'm not--you'd let me in without another
word. Lots of people have been seeing him, I suppose."
"Indeed they have not. Why should they? It is a bold thing for _you_ to
come and ask it."
"Did he come by his death fairly?" whispered the man.
"Good heavens!" exclaimed the butler, stepping back aghast. "I don't
think you know what you are talking about. Who would harm Lord
Hartledon?"
"Let me see him," implored the man. "It can't hurt him or anybody else.
Only just for a minute, sir, in your presence. And if it's ever in my
power to do you a good turn, Mr. Hedges, I'll do it. It doesn't seem
likely now; but the mouse gnawed the lion's net, you know, and set him
free."
Whether it was the strange impressiveness with which the request was
proffered, or that the softened mood of Hedges rendered him incapable of
contention, certain it was that he granted it; and most likely would
wonder at himself for it all his after-life. Crossing the hall with
silent tread, and taking up a candle as he went, he led the way to the
room; Mr. Pike stepping after him with a tread equally silent.
"Take your hat off," peremptorily whispered the butler; for that worthy
had entered the room with it on. "Is that the way to--"
"Hedges!"
Hedges was struck with consternation at the call, for it was that of his
new master. He had not bargained for this; supposing that he had gone to
his room for the night. However he might have been foolishly won over to
accede to the man's strange request, it was not to be supposed it would
be approved of by Lord Hartledon. The butler hesitated. He did not care
to betray Pike, neither did he care to leave Pike alone.
"Hedges!" came the call again, louder and quicker.
"Yes, sir--my lord?" and Hedges squeezed out at the door without opening
it much--which was rather a difficulty, for he was a portly man, with a
red, honest sort of face--leaving Pike and the light inside. Lord
Hartledon--as we must unfortunately call him now--was standing in the
hall.
"Has Dr. Ashton gone?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Did he leave that address?"
Hedges knew to what his master alluded: an address that was wanted in
connection with certain official proceedings that must now take place.
Hedges replied that Dr. Ashton had not left it with him.
"Then he must have forgotten it. He said he would write it down in
pencil. Send over to the Rectory the first thing in the morning. And,
Hedges--"
At this moment a slight noise was heard within the room like the sound of
an extinguisher falling; as, in fact, it was. Lord Hartledon turned
towards it.
"Who is there, Hedges?"
"I--it's no one in particular, sir--my lord."
What with the butler's bewilderment on the sudden change of masters, and
what with his consciousness of the presence of his visitor, he was
unusually confused. Lord Hartledon noticed it. It instantly occurred to
him that one of the ladies, or perhaps one of the women-servants, had
been admitted to the room; and he did not consider it a proper sight for
any of them.
"Who is it?" he demanded, somewhat peremptorily.
So Hedges had to confess what had taken place, and that he had allowed
the man to enter.
"Pike! Why, what can he want?" exclaimed Lord Hartledon in surprise. And
he turned to the room.
The moment the butler left him alone Mr. Pike's first proceeding had been
to cover his head again with his wide-awake, which he had evidently
removed with reluctance, and might have refused to remove at all had it
been consistent with policy; his second was to snatch up the candle, bend
over the dead face, and examine it minutely both with eye and hand.
"There _is_ a wound, then, and it's true what they are saying. I thought
it might have been gossip," he muttered, as he pushed the soft dark hair
from the temple. "Any more suspicious marks?" he resumed, taking a rapid
view of the hands and head. "No; nothing but what he'd be likely to get
in the water: but--I'll swear _that_ might have been the blow of a human
hand. 'Twould stun, if it wouldn't kill; and then, held under the
water--"
At this moment Mr. Pike and his comments were interrupted, and he drew
back from the table on which the body was lying; but not before Lord
Hartledon had seen him touching the face of the dead.
"What are you doing?" came the stern demand.
"I wasn't harming him," was the answer; and Mr. Pike seemed to have
suddenly returned to his roughness. "It's a nasty accident to have
happened; and I don't like _this_."
He pointed to the temple as he spoke. Lord Hartledon's usually
good-natured brow--at present a brow of deep sorrow--contracted
with displeasure.
"It is an awful accident," he replied. "But I asked what you were doing
here?"
"I thought I'd like to look upon him, sir; and the butler let me in. I
wish I'd been a bit nearer the place at the time: I'd have saved him, or
got drowned myself. Not much fear of that, though. I'm a rat for the
water. Was that done fairly?" pointing again to the temple.
"What do you mean?" exclaimed Val.
"Well--it might be, or it might not. One who has led the roving life I
have, and been in all sorts of scenes, bred in the slums of London too,
looks on the suspicious side of these things. And there mostly is one in
all of 'em."
Val was moved to anger. "How dare you hint at so infamous a suspicion,
Pike? If--"
"No offence, my lord," interrupted Pike--"and it's my lord that you are
now. Thoughts may be free in this room; but I am not going to spread
suspicion outside. I say, though that _might_ have been an accident, it
might have been done by an enemy."
"Did you do it?" retorted Lord Hartledon in his displeasure.
Pike gave a short laugh.
"I did not. I had no cause to harm him. What I'm thinking was, whether
anybody else had. He was mistaken for another yesterday," continued Pike,
dropping his voice. "Some men in his lordship's place might have showed
fight then: even blows."
Percival made no immediate rejoinder. He was gazing at Pike just as
fixedly as the latter gazed at him. Did the man wish to insinuate that
the unwelcome visitor had again mistaken the one brother for the other,
and the result had been a struggle between them, ending in this? The idea
rushed into his mind, and a dark flush overspread his face.
"You have no grounds for thinking that man--you know who I mean--attacked
my brother a second time?"
"No, I have no grounds for it," shortly answered Pike.
"He was near to the spot at the time; I saw him there," continued Lord
Hartledon, speaking apparently to himself; whilst the flush, painfully
red and dark, was increasing rather than diminishing.
"I know you did," returned Pike.
The tone grated on Lord Hartledon's ear. It implied that the man might
become familiar, if not checked; and, with all his good-natured
affability, he was not one to permit it; besides, his position was
changed, and he could not help feeling that it was. "Necessity makes us
acquainted with strange bedfellows," says the very true proverb; and what
might have been borne yesterday would not be borne to-day.
"Let me understand you," he said, and there was a stern decision in his
tone and manner that surprised Pike. "Have you any reason whatever to
suspect that man of having injured, or attempted to injure my brother?"
"_I_'ve not," answered Pike. "I never saw him nearer to the mill
yesterday than he was when he looked at us. I don't think he went nearer.
My lord, if I knew anything against the man, I'd tell it out, and be
glad. I hate the whole tribe. _He_ wouldn't make the mistake again,"
added Pike, half-contemptuously. "He knew which was his lordship fast
enough to-day, and which wasn't."
"Then what did you mean by insinuating that the blow on the temple was
the result of violence?"
"I didn't say it was: I said it might have been. I don't know a thing, as
connected with this business, against a mortal soul. It's true, my lord."
"Perhaps, then, you will leave this room," said Lord Hartledon.
"I'm going. And many thanks to your lordship for not having turned me
from it before, and for letting me have my say. Thanks to _you_, sir," he
added, as he went out of the room and passed Hedges, who was waiting in
the hall.
Hedges closed the door after him, and turned to receive a reprimand from
his new master.
"Before you admit such men as that into the most sacred chamber the house
at present contains, you will ask my permission, Hedges."
Hedges attempted to excuse himself. "He was so very earnest, my lord; he
declared to me he had a good motive in wanting to come in. At these
times, when one's heart is almost broken with a sudden blow, one is apt
to be soft and yielding. What with that feeling upon me, and what with
the fright he gave me--"
"What fright did he give you?" interrupted Val.
"Well, my lord, he--he asked me whether his lordship had come fairly by
his death."
"How dare you repeat the insinuation?" broke forth Lord Hartledon, with
more temper than Hedges had ever seen him display. "The very idea is
absurd; it is wicked; it is unpardonable. My brother had not an enemy in
the world. Take care not to repeat it again. Do you hear?"
He turned away from the astonished man, went into the room he had called
sacred, and closed the door. Hedges wondered whether the hitherto
sweet-tempered, easy-mannered younger brother had changed his nature
with his inheritance.
As the days went on, few, if any, further particulars were elicited as to
the cause of accident. That the unfortunate Lord Hartledon had become
partly, if not wholly, disabled, so as to be incapable of managing even
the little skiff, had been drifted by the current towards the mills, and
there upset, was assumed by all to have been the true history of the
case. There appeared no reason to doubt that it was so. The inquest was
held on the Thursday.
And on that same morning the new Lord Hartledon received a proof of the
kindness of his brother. A letter arrived from Messrs. Kedge and Reck,
addressed to Edward Earl of Hartledon. By it Percival found--there was no
one else to open it now--that his brother had written to them early on
the Tuesday morning, taking the debt upon himself; and they now wrote to
say they accepted his responsibility, and had withdrawn the officer from
Calne. Alas! Val Elster could have dismissed him himself now.
He sat with bent head and drooping eyelids. None, save himself, knew how
bitter were the feelings within him, or the remorse that was his portion
for having behaved unkindly to his brother within the last few hours of
life. He had rebelled at his state of debt becoming known to Dr. Ashton;
he had feared to lose Anne: it seemed to him now, that he would live
under the doctor's displeasure for ever, would never see Anne again,
could he recall his brother. Oh, these unavailing regrets! Will they rise
up to face us at the Last Day?
With a suppressed ejaculation that was like a cry of pain, as if he would
throw from him these reflections and could not, Lord Hartledon drew a
sheet of paper before him and wrote a note to the lawyers. He briefly
stated what had taken place; that his brother was dead from an accident,
and he had inherited, and should take speedy measures for the discharge
of any liabilities there might be against him: and he requested, as a
favour, that the letter written to them by his brother might be preserved
and returned to him: he should wish to keep it as the last lines his hand
had traced.