"THE KING IS DEAD.----"
Mr. George Dashwood was of opinion that things at the Hall were not as
they used to be in the old days. In the first place he had been
compelled to walk up from the station after ordering a trap to meet
him on his return from Longtown, and now he could see no sign of
dinner. He had come downstairs in a temper, and had looked into the
dining-room as he passed.
It was eight o'clock to the moment; there was no sign of dinner. The
banks of ferns and the great silver bowls of roses were there, but
nothing else. Dashwood forgot for the moment that he was no longer
master of the house, and rang the bell. Slight came in presently. He
was still wearing his morning coat.
"What is the meaning of this?" Dashwood demanded. "I ordered a trap to
meet me at the station and no trap appears. Then I came back here to
dinner, of which I see no sign. Have the servants left the house in a
body?"
"No, sir," Slight replied. "We have had a trying day. In the first
place the police----"
"Oh, the police, have they been here? Is there any clue to the
mysterious attack upon Mr.--er, Ralph Darnley? I had to go into
Longtown today; I did not expect to get back here till late. If your
master has suddenly been called to town----"
"He has vanished, sir," Slight said, "you may not be so very much
surprised to hear that he was at the bottom of the attack on Mr.
Ralph--leastways I'll speak of him as Mr. Ralph for the present. In a
manner of speaking, it was I who found the whole thing out. Perhaps it
was foolish of me to do so, but I couldn't help letting that rascal
know all about it. He went off in a great hurry this morning, and
I for one shall be very much surprised if we ever see him again.
In a manner of speaking, we are like a lot of servants in bear
cages--nobody to look after us or give any orders. Me and the
housekeeper are doing what we can, sir, in the hopes that Lady
Dashwood will come over tomorrow and take charge. And that's why your
dinner is forgotten."
"We will let it pass," Dashwood said with great magnanimity. "In the
present extraordinary circumstances, I suppose that I cannot complain.
If you could get me some cold chicken and salad, Slight, I dare say I
could manage. And perhaps you will be so good as to wait on me
yourself, seeing that you are so far in the confidences of the family.
And perhaps you will give me an idea of what has happened."
The salad and chicken were served presently, and the meal together
with the champagne, went far to salve Dashwood's wounded dignity. A
cigarette completed the process.
"Now tell me everything," he said. "Mind you, you must be wrong as to
our late host having anything to do with the outrage on Ralph
Darnley."
"Begging your pardon, sir," Slight replied. "Why, the thing was as
good as admitted. To call him by his proper name, Vincent Speed saw
that the game was up. Mind you, servants hear a great deal more than
their employers give them credit for, and I know that in some way
Speed was under the thumb of that scoundrel Mayfield. How you could
ever have tolerated him in the house, beats me, sir."
"_I_ was also under the thumb of Mayfield," Dashwood murmured. "He was
the sort of man who always got his own way, and he was not in the
least scrupulous as to his methods. Possibly he knew who Speed really
was."
"That's it, sir," Slight said eagerly. "He was after money. Well,
Speed found out that Mr. Ralph was the real heir, and that his time
here was limited. I dare say Speed got that information from his
mother. I suppose it never occurred to the fool that both Lady
Dashwood and myself knew who Mr. Ralph was."
"How did you know?" Dashwood asked. "I'm sure I didn't."
"Because you never met Mr. Ralph's father, sir. The likeness is a
speaking one. The very first day that Mr. Ralph arrived here, I knew
that you had no right to be in this house at all, sir. The same when
Speed came along--though I'm bound to admit that he took me in at
first."
"But the whole thing is inexplicable," Dashwood said irritably. "Why
this masquerade? Why was Speed permitted to oust me at all? And why
did I remain here?"
Slight had his opinion, but it was not his plan to utter this. He
shook his head with an air of wisdom. Perhaps Miss Mary could explain
that part. At any rate, if she could not do so, Lady Dashwood could
solve the problem.
"Well, it really doesn't matter," Dashwood exclaimed. "Get on with
your story. What had Speed to do with the disgraceful attack on Ralph
Darnley?"
"He struck the blow, sir," Slight proceeded. "The murderous plot was
arranged between Speed and Mayfield. It was necessary to get Mr. Ralph
out of the way, and they determined to do it. For that purpose Mr.
Ralph was invited to dine at the Hall. The game was to get him out of
the way in such a manner as would not throw the slightest suspicion on
those ruffians. They picked out you, sir, to be their witness as to
the fact."
"But they were not out of the house," Dashwood protested. "Neither of
them left the dining-room till bedtime, and we all went to bed
together. And Speed had such a dreadful bilious attack that he was
good for nothing. I have no reason to love either of those fellows,
but I should be compelled to exonerate them."
"It _was_ clever," Slight admitted. "At the same time, it was Speed
who did it. He sat behind the screen over yonder, sir, but the window
leading to the balcony was open. Perhaps you will call to mind how
Mayfield left the table to fetch his cigar case. Then he came back
with a message to the effect that Lady Dashwood wanted to see Mr.
Ralph on his way home. I have had it from her Ladyship's lips that she
sent no message of the kind. Still, the supposed message had the
desired effect for it took Mr. Ralph past the balcony; Speed had only
to pop out and knock him on the head, which he did. All the time you
thought that he was simply sitting in the armchair behind the screen."
"Incredible, but possible," Dashwood murmured. "Go on, Slight."
"Well, sir, I was frightened. I felt that there was something dark
going on, and I didn't go to bed. I came downstairs and found Mayfield
drinking whisky and soda not long before daylight. And his dress
slippers were all over dirt. I got hold of Speed's pumps, too, and
they were as bad. That told me a story. I made Walters get up, and
together we began a search. At the foot of one of the oak trees in the
park we found Mr. Ralph. Though it had been raining at the time he
left here, his clothes were quite dry, though we found him nearly half
a mile from the house. Then I knew quite well that the body had been
carried there. The pockets being turned out was only to make it look
like robbery. And I taxed Speed with it. I gave him chapter and verse
for everything, and he's gone. And, what's more, I know what his game
is. I got that from the telegrams he sent and the timetable he left
about. He's gone to Weymouth on his way to Jersey. When he reaches
Weymouth, he'll charter a fishing boat to take him as far as Jersey.
It's no great distance, and for a little time he will be safe there.
From Jersey he can easily get across to Granville by a sailing boat."
The more Dashwood thought this over the more was he disposed to
agree with the old servant. It was good, at any rate, to know that
he was no longer likely to suffer at the hands of Mayfield, for
that rascal would have to fly also. No doubt Speed had given his
fellow-conspirator a hint of what had happened, and that by this time
he, too, was on his way to some place of safety. With these thoughts
uppermost in his mind, Dashwood walked across the park in the
direction of the dower house.
It was not yet dark, and Lady Dashwood was walking in the garden.
There was a look of peace and happiness on her face that Dashwood had
never seen there before. It was, at any rate, a good omen as to the
progress of the patient.
"I have been having a long talk with Slight," Dashwood explained. "He
has been giving me some astounding information. I have been in
Longtown all day, and when I came back Speed had vanished. And Slight
had afforded very cogent reasons for his disappearance. Only I am
utterly in the dark as to why Ralph Darnley has behaved in this way.
Slight suggests that you know."
"I do," Lady Dashwood smiled. "It is a very pretty story, and I think
that even you will be touched when it comes to be told. In the
meantime, there is one thing that I will ask you to do--please say
nothing to Mary as to who Ralph really is till you have permission."
"I can promise that all the more readily because I am not likely to
see Mary," Dashwood said in a grieved tone. "The child has behaved
very badly to me; she seems to forget that I am her father. So long as
she remains in London----"
"She is not in London, George. She has come back, and so far as I can
judge, is not in the least likely to return to London again. Directly
she heard of Ralph's accident, she came here at once to nurse him. Do
not forget that she owes her life to Ralph. And do not forget that he
loves the very ground she walks on. If my memory serves me correctly,
he told you as much when you were doing your best to sell your child
to that scoundrel Mayfield. If you refrain from interfering, that
romance will end happily."
"By Jove, you don't mean it?" Dashwood cried. Visions of himself,
comfortably housed and fed at Dashwood, rose before his eyes. It was
not quite like being the master of the house, but it was the next best
thing. "What a fortunate circumstance! Really, my dear lady, I appear
to be luckier than I deserve."