THE WARNING
On hearing this announcement of the loss, Eva rose and went to the
chamber of death. There, under a sheet, lay the body of her father
looking far more calm in death, than he had ever looked in life. But
the sheet was disarranged on the right side, and lifting this
slightly, she saw that what Mr. Hill said was true. The wooden hand
had been removed, and now there remained but the stump of the arm. A
glance round the room showed her that the window was open, but she
remembered opening it herself. The blind was down, but some one
might have entered and thieved from the dead. It was an odd loss,
and Eva could not think why it should have taken place.
When she returned to the tiny drawing-room, Allen and his father were
in deep conversation. They looked up when the girl entered.
"It is quite true," said Eva, sitting down; "the hand is gone."
"Who can have stolen it?" demanded Allen, wrinkling his brow.
"And why should it be stolen?" asked Hill pointedly.
Eva pressed her hands to her aching head. "I don't know," she
said wearily. "When Mrs. Merry and I laid out the body at dawn
this morning the hand was certainly there, for I noted the white
glove all discoloured with the mud of the Red Deeps. We pulled down
the blind and opened the window. Some one may have entered."
"But why should some one steal?" said Hill uneasily; "you say the hand
was there at dawn?"
"Yes." Eva rose and rang the bell. "We can ask Mrs. Merry."
The old woman speedily entered, and expressed astonishment at the
queer loss. "The hand was there at nine," she said positively. "I
went to see if everything was well, and lifted the sheet. Ah, dear
me, Mr. Strode, as was, put a new white glove on that wooden hand
every morning, so that it might look nice and clean. Whatever would
he have said, to see the glove all red with clay? I intended," added
Mrs. Merry, "to have put on a new glove, and I sent Cain to buy it."
"What?" asked Eva, looking up, "is Cain back?"
"Yes, deary. He came early, as the circus is passing through this
place on to the next town, Shanton. Cain thought he'd pick up the
caravans on the road, so came to say good-bye."
Eva remembered Cain's odd behaviour, and wondered if he had anything
to do with the theft. But the idea was ridiculous. The lad was bad
enough, but he certainly would not rob the dead. Moreover--on the face
of it--there was no reason he should steal so useless an object as a
wooden hand. What with the excitement of the death, and the
fulfilment of the dream, not to mention that she felt a natural grief
for the death of her father, the poor girl was quite worn out.
Mr. Hill saw this, and after questioning Mrs. Merry as to the theft
of the glove, he went away.
"I shall see Wasp about this," he said, pausing at the door, "there
must be some meaning in the theft. Meanwhile I'll examine the
flower-bed outside the window."
Mrs. Merry went with him, but neither could see any sign of foot-marks
on the soft mould. The thief--if indeed a thief had entered the house,
had jumped the flower-bed, and no marks were discoverable on the hard
gravel of the path. "There's that boy," said Mrs. Merry.
"What boy?" asked Hill, starting.
"A little rascal, as calls himself Butsey," said the old woman,
folding her hands as usual under her apron. "London street brat I take
him to be. He came to say Cain would be here to-morrow."
"But Cain is here to-day," said Mr. Hill perplexed.
"That's what makes me think Butsey might have stolen the wooden hand,"
argued Mrs. Merry. "Why should he come here else? I didn't tell him,
as Cain had already arrived, me being one as knows how to hold my
tongue whatever you may say, Mr. Hills"--so Mrs. Merry named her
companion. "I would have asked questions, but the boy skipped. I
wonder why he stole it?"
"You have no proof that he stole it at all," said Hill smartly; "but
I'll tell Wasp what you say. When does the inquest take place?"
"To-morrow, as you might say," snapped Mrs. Merry crossly; "and
don't bring that worriting Wasp round here, Mr. Hills. Wasp he is
by name and Wasp by nature with his questions. If ever you----"
But Mr. Hill was beyond hearing by this time. He always avoided a
chat with Mrs. Merry, as the shrillness of her voice--so
he explained--annoyed him. The old woman stared after his
retreating figure and she shook her head. "You're a bad one,"
she soliloquised; "him as is dead was bad too. A pair of
ye--ah--but if there's trouble coming, as trouble will come, do
what you may--Miss Eva shan't suffer while I can stop any worriting."
Meanwhile Eva and Allen were talking seriously. "My dream was
fulfilled in the strangest way, Allen," the girl said. "I dreamed,
as I told you, the night before last at nine o'clock----"
"Well?" questioned the young man seeing she hesitated.
Eva looked round fearfully. "The doctor says, that, judging by
the condition of the body, my father must have been shot at that
hour."
"Last night you mean," said Allen hesitatingly.
"No. This is Friday. He was shot on Wednesday at nine, and the
body must have lain all those long hours at the Red Deeps. Of
course," added Eva quickly, "no one goes to the Red Deeps. It was
the merest chance that those labourers went last night and found
the body. So you see, Allen, my father must have been killed at
the very time I dreamed of his death."
"It is strange," said young Hill, much perturbed. "I wonder who
can have killed him?"
Eva shook her head. "I cannot say, nor can any one. The inspector
from Westhaven has been here this morning making inquiries, but,
of course, I can tell him nothing--except about the telegram."
"What telegram?"
"Didn't I mention it to you?" said the girl, raising her eyes
which were fixed on the ground disconsolately; "no--of course I
didn't. It came after you left me--at nine o'clock--no it was at
half-past nine. The wire was from my father, saying he would be
down the next day. It had arrived at Westhaven at four, and should
have been delivered earlier but for the forgetfulness of the
messenger."
"But, Eva, if the wire came from your father yesterday, he could not
have been shot on Wednesday night."
"No, I can't understand it. I told Inspector Garrit about the wire,
and he took it away with him. He will say all that he learns about the
matter at the inquest to-morrow. And now my father's wooden hand has
been stolen--it is strange."
"Very strange," assented Allen musingly. He was thinking of what
his father had said about Mr. Strode's probable enemies. "Eva, do
you know if your father brought any jewels from Africa--diamonds, I
mean?"
"I can't say. No diamonds were found on his body. In fact his purse
was filled with money and his jewellery had not been taken."
"Then robbery could not have been the motive for the crime."
"No, Allen, the body was not robbed." She rose and paced the room. "I
can't understand my dream. I wonder if, when I slept, my soul went to
the Red Deeps and saw the crime committed."
"You did not see the crime committed?"
"No; I saw the body, however, lying in the position in which it was
afterwards found by Jacobs and the others. And then the laugh--that
cruel laugh as though the assassin was gloating over his cruel
work--the man who murdered my father was laughing in my dream."
"How can you tell it was a man?"
"The laugh sounded like that of a man."
"In your dream? I don't think a jury will take that evidence."
Eva stopped before the young man and looked at him determinedly.
"I don't see why that part of my dream should not come true, if
the other has already been proved true. It's all of a piece."
To this remark young Hill had no answer ready. Certainly the dream had
come true in one part, so why not in another? But he was too anxious
about Eva's future to continue the discussion. "What about you,
darling?" he asked.
"I don't know," she replied, and sat down beside him again. "I can
think of nothing until the inquest has taken place. When I learn
who has killed my father, I shall be more at ease."
"That is only right and natural; but----"
"Don't mistake me, Allen," she interrupted vehemently. "I saw so
little of my father, and, through my mother, knew so much bad about
him, that I don't mourn his death as a daughter ought to. But I feel
that I have a duty to perform. I must learn who killed him, and have
that person sent to the scaffold."
Allen coloured and looked down. "We can talk about that when we have
further facts before us. Inspector Garrit, you say, is making
inquiries?"
"Yes; I have given him the telegram, and also the address of my
father's lawyer, which I found in a letter in his pocket."
"Mr. Mask?"
"Yes; Sebastian Mask--do you know him?"
"I know of him. He is my father's lawyer also, and so became Mr.
Strode's man of business. Yes, it is just as well Garrit should see
him. When your father arrived in London he probably went to see Mask,
to talk over business. We might learn something in that quarter."
"Learn what?" asked Eva bluntly.
Allen did not answer at once. "Eva," he said after a pause, "do you
remember I told you that my father said Mr. Strode might not arrive.
Well, I asked him why he said so, and he declared that from what he
knew of your father, Mr. Strode was a man likely to have many enemies.
It struck me that this crime may be the work of one of these enemies.
Now Mask, knowing all your father's business, may also know about
those who wished him ill."
"It may be so," said Eva reflectively; "my father," from what Mrs.
Merry says, "was a most quarrelsome man, and would stop at nothing to
make money. He doubtless made enemies in Africa as your
father suggests, but why should an enemy follow him to England to
kill him? It would have been easier to shoot him in Africa."
Allen shrugged his shoulders. "It's all theory on our parts," he said.
"We don't know yet if Mr. Strode had any virulent enemies, so we
cannot say if he was shot out of malice."
"As the contents of his pockets were not touched, Allen, it looks as
though malice might have led to the crime."
"True enough." Allen rose wearily to go, and Eva saw that he
limped. "Oh," she cried with true womanly feeling, springing
forward to help him, "I forgot about your sprain; is it very
painful?"
"Oh no, not at all," said Allen, wincing; "help me to the door,
Eva, and I'll get into the chaise. It must be here by this time.
We must go round by the back."
In spite of her sorrow, Eva smiled. "Yes, Mrs. Merry won't allow the
front door to be opened until my father's corpse passes through. I
never thought she was so superstitious."
"The realisation of your dream is enough to make us all
superstitious," said Allen as they passed through the kitchen. "Oh,
by the way, Eva, my mother wants to know if you will stop with her
till the funeral is over?"
"No, Allen, thanking your mother all the same. My place is here. Mrs.
Palmer asked me also."
Mrs. Palmer was a gay, bright young widow who lived at the other
end of the village, and whom Mrs. Merry detested, for some unknown
reason. The sound of the name brought her into the conversation, as
she was just outside, when the couple arrived at the kitchen door.
"Mrs. Palmer indeed," cried Mrs. Merry, wiping her red eyes; "the
idea of her asking Miss Eva to stop with her. Why, her father was
a chemist, and her late husband made his money out of milk and
eggs!"
"She is very kind to ask me, Nanny, all the same."
"She's no lady," said Mrs. Merry, pursing up her lips, "and ain't
the kind for you to mix with, Miss Eva."
"My mother wishes Miss Strode to come to us," said Allen.
"Well, sir," said the old nurse, "I don't say as what it wouldn't be
good for my dear young lady: that is," added Mrs. Merry with
emphasis, "if she keeps with your ma."
"My father won't trouble her if that's what you mean," said the young
man drily, for Mrs. Merry made no secret of her dislike for Mr. Hill.
"People have their likings and no likings," said the old dame, "but if
your ma will take Miss Eva till we bury him," she jerked her head in
the direction of the death chamber, "it would be happier for her than
sticking in the house along with her pa and me. If Cain was stopping
I'd say different, but he's going after his circus, and two women and
a corpse as ain't lived well, isn't lively, whatever you may say, Mr.
Allen."
"I intend to stop here," said Eva sharply, "so there's no need for
you to say anything more, Nanny. Ah, here's Cain. Help Mr. Hill,
Cain."
The dark-eyed youth doffed his cap and came forward with alacrity to
aid Allen. "Jacobs is at the gate with the pony, miss," he said, "but
I hope our horses won't run over him."
"What do you mean?" asked Allen, limping round the corner.
"The circus is coming, on its way to Shanton. I told Mr. Stag--he
owns it, Miss Eva--that murder had been committed, so the circus band
won't play when the horses pass."
"Oh," said Eva stopping short, for already she saw a crowd of people
on the road. "I'd better remain within."
"Yes, do, Eva," said Allen. "Cain will help me to the chaise. I'll
come and see you again; and Eva," he detained her, "ask Inspector
Garrit to see me. I want to know what can be done towards discovering
the truth."
While Allen whispered thus, a procession of golden cars and
cream-coloured horses was passing down the road amongst a sparse
gathering of village folk. These had come to look at the house in
which the body of the murdered man lay, although they knew Misery
Castle as well as they knew their own noses. But the cottage had
acquired a new and terrible significance in their eyes. Now another
sensation was provided in the passing of Stag's Circus on its way to
Shanton fifteen miles further on. What between the tragedy and the
circus the villagers quite lost their heads. At present, however,
they looked at the cages of animals, at the band in a high red
chariot, and at many performers prancing on trained steeds. With the
music of the band it would have been even more exciting, but Stag,
with extraordinary good taste, forbore to play martial melodies while
passing through the village. Cain had not told him about the cottage,
so the equestrians were unaware that Misery Castle contained the
remains of the man whose death had caused such excitement in
Westhaven.
Just as Eva turned to go in, and thus avoid the gaze of the curious,
she heard a deep voice--a contralto voice--calling for Cain. On
turning her head, she saw a handsome dark woman mounted on a fine
white horse. "It's Miss Lorry," said Cain, leaving Allen's arm and
running to the gate, with his face shining.
The young man, still weak in his ankle, lurched, so sudden had been
Cain's departure, and Eva, with a cry of anger, ran forward to stop
him from falling. "Cain, how could you!" cried Eva; "hold up,
Allen."
"Go back and help the gentleman," said the dark woman, fixing her
bold eyes on the girl's white face with a look of pity. "Miss
Strode!"
Eva turned indignantly--for Cain by this time was helping Allen, and
she was returning to the house--to see why the woman dare address
her. Miss Lorry was reining in her rearing, prancing horse, and
showing off her fine figure and splendid equestrian management. She
was dressed plainly in a dark blue riding-habit, and wore a tall silk
hat. With these, and white collar and cuffs and neat gloves, she
looked very well turned out. By this time the procession had passed
on towards the village, and the people, drawn by the superior
attraction of the circus, streamed after it. Only a few hung about,
and directed curious eyes towards the cottage and towards Eva, who
paused near the fence in response to Miss Lorry's cry. Allen, who was
now in the chaise, and had gathered up the reins, also waited to hear
what this audacious woman had to say to Eva.
"Come here, please," said Miss Lorry, with a fine high colour in her
cheeks. "I'm not going to bite you. You are Miss Strode, aren't
you?--else that lad," she pointed to Cain, "must have lied. He said
you lived in his mother's cottage and----"
"I am Miss Strode," said Eva sharply. "What is it? I don't know you."
Miss Lorry laughed in an artificial manner. "Few people can say that,"
she said; "Bell Lorry is known everywhere as the Queen of the Arena.
No, Miss Strode, you don't know me; but I know you and of you. Your
cousin Lord Saltars----"
"Oh!" cried Eva, turning red, and walked up towards the house.
"Come back," cried Miss Lorry, "I want to whisper--it's about the
death," she added in a lower tone. But Eva was out of hearing, and
round the corner walking very fast, with her haughty head in the air.
Miss Lorry, who had not a good temper, ground her fine white teeth.
"I've a good mind to hold my tongue," she said.
"What is it about the murder?" asked Allen quickly; "I am engaged to
marry Miss Strode."
"Oh, are you? Then tell her to be careful of the wooden hand!"