THE MYSTERIOUS PARCEL
So here was a way opened by Providence in an unexpected direction.
Mrs. Palmer, with a high colour and rather a nervous look, stood
waiting for Eva's reply. The girl looked at her lover, but Allen,
very wisely, said nothing. He thought that this was a matter which
Eva should settle for herself. But he was secretly amused at the
abrupt way in which the little widow had spoken. It seemed as
though she was asking a favour instead of conferring one. Miss
Strode was the first of the three to recover, and then she did not
reply immediately. She first wanted to know why Mrs. Palmer had
made so generous an offer.
"Do sit down," she said, pushing forward a chair, "and then we can
talk the matter over. I need not tell you that I am very thankful
for your kind offer."
"Oh, my dear;" Mrs. Palmer sank into the chair and fanned herself
with a lace handkerchief, "if you accept it, it is I who shall be
thankful. I do hate living by myself, and I've never been able to
find a companion I liked. But you, dear Eva, have always been a
pet of mine. I have known you for four years, and I always did
think you the very dearest of girls. If you will only come we
shall be so happy."
"But what makes you think that I want to be any one's
companion?"
Mrs. Palmer coloured and laughed nervously. She was very pretty,
but with her pink and white complexion and flaxen hair and pale
blue eyes she looked like a wax doll. Any one could see at a glance
that she was perfectly honest. So shallow a nature was incapable of
plotting, or of acting in a double fashion. Yet Eva wondered all
the same that the widow should have made her so abrupt a proposal.
So far as she knew, no one was aware that she was in want of money,
and it seemed strange if providential that Mrs. Palmer should come
in the very nick of time to help her in this way.
"Well, my dear," she said at length and looking at her
primrose-hued gloves, "it was Lord Saltars who led me to make the
offer."
"My cousin." Eva frowned and Allen looked up. "Do you know him?"
"Oh yes. Didn't I mention that I did?"
"No. I was not aware that you had ever met."
"We did in town about a year ago. I met him only once when I was
at Mr. Mask's to dinner. Since then I have not seen him until the
other day, and perhaps that was why I said nothing. I remember
you told me he was your cousin, Eva, but I quite forgot to say
that I knew him."
"Do you know Mr. Mask?" asked Hill.
"Of course I do. You know I quarrelled with my old lawyer about
the money left by Palmer. He was most disagreeable, so I resolved
to change for a nicer man. I spoke to your father about it, and he
kindly gave me the address of his own lawyer. I went up and
settled things most satisfactorily. Of course Mr. Mask is a
fearful old mummy," prattled on Mrs. Palmer in her airy fashion,
"but he is agreeable over legal matters, and understands business.
Palmer's affairs were rather complicated, you know, so I placed
them all in Mr. Mask's hands. He has been my lawyer ever since, and
I have every reason to be pleased."
"And you met my cousin there?" said Eva doubtfully.
"Lord Saltars? Yes. I was dining with Mr. Mask and his wife in
their Bloomsbury Square house, a doleful old place. Lord Saltars
came in to see Mr. Mask on business after dinner, so Mr. Mask
asked him in to drink coffee. I was there, and so we met."
"Did he mention my name?" asked Miss Strode stiffly.
"Oh dear, no. He was unaware that I lived in the same village as
you did. We talked about general things. But he mentioned it to me
the other night at the circus, when I went to see the performance
at Shanton."
"Did you go there?"
"Yes, my dear, I did," said Mrs. Palmer laughing. "I'm sure this
place is dull enough. Any amusement pleases me. I didn't know at
the time that your father was dead, Eva, or I should not have
gone--not that I knew Mr. Strode, but still, you are my friend,
and I should have come to comfort you. But you know I'm at the
other end of the village, and the news had not time to get to me
before I started for Shanton to luncheon with some friends. I
remained with them for the night, and we went to the circus. Lord
Saltars sat next to me, and we remembered that we had met before.
In the course of conversation I mentioned that I lived at
Wargrove, and he asked if I knew you. I said that I did."
"How did Lord Saltars know of the murder?" asked Allen hastily.
"I believe he learned it from one of the performers called Miss----"
"Miss Lorry," said Eva colouring--"I remember. Cain told her, and
she had the audacity to speak to me."
Allen said nothing, remembering the message Miss Lorry had
delivered relative to the wooden hand. He had not spoken of it to
Eva hitherto, and thought wisely that this was not the time to
reveal his knowledge. He preferred to listen to Mrs. Palmer, who as
yet had not shown how she came to know that Eva needed the offer of
a situation.
"So Miss Lorry spoke to you?" said Mrs. Palmer with great
curiosity; "such a bold woman, though handsome enough. Lord Saltars
seems to think a lot of her. Indeed I heard a rumour that he was
about to marry her. My friends told me. But people will gossip,"
added Mrs. Palmer apologetically.
"Lord Saltars and his doings do not interest me," said Eva
coldly. "We have only met once, and I don't like him. He is too
fast for me. I could never enjoy the company of a man like that.
I think as he was related by marriage to my father, he might have
called to see me about the matter, and offered his assistance."
"We can do without that," cried Allen quickly.
"Lord Saltars doesn't know that we can," replied Eva sharply;
"however, I understand how you met him, Mrs. Palmer, and how he
came to know about the murder through Miss Lorry, who heard of it
from Cain. But what has all this to do with your asking me to be your
companion?"
Mrs. Palmer coloured again and seemed embarrassed. "My dear," she
said seriously, "I shall have to tell you about Mr. Mask first,
that you may know all. After the inquest he called to see me----"
"But he came here," put in Eva.
"Quite so, and told you that your father had left no money."
"How do you know that?"
"Mr. Mask told me," said the widow simply, and laid her hand on
Eva's hand; "don't be angry, my dear. Mr. Mask came to me and told
me you were poor. He asked me if I would help you in what way I
could, as he said he knew I was rich and kind hearted. I am the
first, but I really don't know if I'm the last."
"I think you are," said Miss Strode softly. "I never gave Mr.
Mask leave to talk of my business, and I don't know why he should
have done so, as he did not seem to care what became of me."
"Oh, but I think he intended to help you if he could, and came to tell
me of your dilemma for that purpose, Eva."
"Apparently he wished to play the part of a good Samaritan at your
expense, Mrs. Palmer," said Eva drily; "however, I understand how
you came to know that I needed assistance, but Lord Saltars----"
"Ah!" cried the widow vivaciously, "that is what puzzles me. Lord
Saltars seems to think you are rich."
"Rich?" echoed Allen, while Eva also looked surprised.
"Yes. He said you would no doubt inherit your father's money. I
answered--pardon me, Eva--that Mr. Strode was not rich, for I heard so
in another quarter."
Eva looked at Allen, and Allen at Eva. Both guessed that the
quarter indicated was Mr. Hill, who had a long tongue and small
discretion. Mrs. Palmer, however, never noticed the exchange of
glances, and prattled on. "Lord Saltars insisted that your father had
brought home a fortune from Africa."
"How did he know that?" asked Allen quickly.
"I don't know, he didn't say. I of course began to believe him, for
when I hinted doubts, Lord Saltars said that if I offered to help
you, I would learn that you were poor. I really thought you were
rich, Eva, till Mr. Mask came to me, or I should have come before to
make you this offer. But Mr. Mask undeceived me. I told him what Lord
Saltars had said, but Mr. Mask replied that his lordship was quite
wrong--that Mr. Strode had left no money, and that you would not be
able to live. I therefore came to ask you to be my companion at the
salary of one hundred a year. I don't know how I dare offer it, my
dear," said the good-hearted widow; "and if I hadn't spoken just when
I came in, I should not have had the courage. But now I have made the
offer, what do you say?"
"I think it is very good and kind of you--"
"And bold. Yes, I can see it in your eyes--very speaking eyes they
are--that you think I am bold in meddling with your private affairs.
But if you really think so, please forgive me and I'll go away. You
may be sure I'll hold my tongue about the matter. If every one thinks
you are rich--as they do--it is not for me to contradict them."
Eva laughed rather sadly. "I really don't know why people think I
am rich," she said in a low voice; "my father has always been poor
through speculation. What his money affairs were when he came home
I don't know. He said nothing to me, and no papers were found at
the hotel or in his pockets, likely to throw light on them. He
never told Mr. Mask he was rich----"
"I thought at the inquest Mr. Mask said something about money
being left in his charge, Eva?" said Allen.
Miss Strode nodded. "My father mentioned that later he might give
Mr. Mask some money to hold for him, and that he would come again
himself to get it. If not, he would send his wooden hand as a sign
that the money should be handed over to any one who brought it."
"Humph," said Allen pulling his moustache, "it seems to me that the
hand has been stolen for that purpose."
"If so, it will be taken to Mr. Mask, and then we will learn who
stole it. But of course Mr. Mask will not be able to give any
money, as my father--so he said--never left any with him."
"This is all most interesting and mysterious," said Mrs. Palmer. "Oh
dear me, I wonder who killed your poor father? Don't look anxious,
Eva; what you and Mr. Hill say, will never be repeated by me. All I
come for is to make this offer, and if you think me rude or
interfering I can only apologise and withdraw."
Eva caught the widow by the hand. "I think you are very kind," she
said cordially, "and I thankfully accept your offer."
"Oh, you dear girl!" and Mrs. Palmer embraced her.
"Have you quite decided to do that, Eva?" asked Allen.
"Quite," she answered firmly. "Mrs. Palmer likes me----"
"I quite adore you, Eva, dear!" cried the widow.
"And I am fond of her."
"I know you are, dear, though you never would call me Constance."
"Later I may call you Constance," said Eva, smiling at the simple
way in which Mrs. Palmer talked. "So you may look upon it as
settled. I shall come to be your companion whenever you like."
"Come at once, dear."
"No, I must wait here a few days to reconcile my old nurse to my
departure."
"Mrs. Merry? Oh, Eva, I am afraid she will hate me for this. She
doesn't like me as it is. I don't know why," added Mrs. Palmer
dolefully; "I am always polite to the lower orders."
"Mrs. Merry is an odd woman," said Eva rising, "but her heart is
in the right place."
"Odd people's hearts always are," said the widow. "Wait here and
talk to Allen," said Eva going to the door. "I'll see about tea."
But the fact is Eva wanted to talk to Mrs. Merry, anxious to get over
a disagreeable interview, as she knew there would be strenuous
opposition. To her surprise, however, Mrs. Merry was in favour of the
scheme, and announced her decision when Eva came to the kitchen.
"Don't tell me about it, Miss Eva," she said, "for I had my ear to the
keyhole all the time."
"Oh, Nanny!"
"And why do you say that?" asked the old woman bristling; "if I
ain't got the right to look after you who has? I never cared for
that Mrs. Palmer, as is common of commonest, so I listened to hear
what she'd come about."
"Then you know all. What do you say?"
"Go, of course."
"But, Nanny, I thought----"
"I know you did, deary," said Mrs. Merry penitently. "I'm always
calling folk names by reason of my having bin put on in life. And
Mrs. Palmer is common--there's no denying--her father being a
chemist and her late husband eggs and butter. But she's got a kind
heart, though I don't see what right that Mask thing had to talk
to her of your being poor when I've got this roof and fifty pound.
Nasty creature, he wouldn't help you. But Mrs. Palmer is kind,
Miss Eva, so I say, take what she offers. You'll be near me, and
perhaps you'll be able to teach her manners, though you'll never
make a silk purse out of a swine's ear."
Eva was surprised by this surrender, and moreover saw that Mrs.
Merry's eyes were red. In her hands she held a letter, and Eva
remembered that the post had called an hour before. "Have you had
bad news, Nanny?" she asked anxiously.
"I got a letter from Giles," said Mrs. Merry dully; "he writes
from Whitechapel, saying he's down on his luck and may come home.
That's why I want you to go to Mrs. Palmer, deary. I can't keep
you here with a nasty, swearing jail-bird in the house. Oh dear
me," cried Mrs. Merry, bursting into tears, "and I thought Giles was
dead, whatever you may say, drat him!"
"But, Nanny, you needn't have him in the house if he treats you badly.
This place is your own."
"I must have him," said the old woman helplessly, "else he'll break the
winders and disgrace me before every one. You don't know what an awful
man he is when roused. He'd murder me if I crossed him. But to think
he should turn up after all these years, when I thought him as dead
and buried and being punished for his wickedness."
"Nanny," said Eva kissing the poor wrinkled face, "I'll speak to you
later about this. Meanwhile I'll tell Mrs. Palmer that I accept her
offer."
"Yes do, deary. It goes to my heart for you to leave. But 'tis better
so, and you'll have your pride satisfied. And it will be Christian
work," added Mrs. Merry, "to dress that widder properly. Rainbows
ain't in it, with the colours she puts on."
Eva could not help smiling at this view of the matter, and withdrew
to excuse herself offering tea to Mrs. Palmer. Nanny was not in a
state to make tea, and Eva wished to return and learn more, also to
comfort her. She therefore again told Mrs. Palmer that she accepted
the offer and would come to her next week. Then taking leave of
Allen, Eva went back to the kitchen. Mrs. Palmer and her companion
walked down the road.
"I hope you think I've acted rightly, Mr. Hill," said the widow.
"I think you are most kind," said Allen, "and I hope you will make Eva
happy."
"I'll do my best. She shall be a sister to me. But I think," said
Mrs. Palmer archly, "that some one else may make her happier."
"That is not to be my fate at present," said Allen a little sadly.
"Good-bye, Mrs. Palmer. I'll come and see you and Eva before I go
to town."
"You'll always be welcome, Mr. Hill, and I can play the part of
gooseberry." So they parted laughing.
Allen, thinking of this turn in Eva's affairs which had given her a
home and a kind woman to look after her, walked towards the common
to get a breath of fresh air before returning to "The Arabian
Nights." Also he wished to think over his plans regarding meeting
Horace Parkins and searching for Butsey, on whom seemed to hang the
whole matter of the discovery of Strode's assassin. At the end of
the road the young man was stopped by a tall, fresh-coloured girl
neatly dressed, who dropped a curtsey.
"Well, Jane, and how are you?" asked Allen kindly, recognising
the girl as Wasp's eldest daughter.
"I'm quite well, and, please, I was to give you this," said Jane.
Allen took a brown paper parcel and looked at it with surprise.
It was directed to 'Lawrence Hill.' "My father," said Allen.
"Why don't you take it to the house?"
"I saw you coming, sir, and I thought I'd give it to you. I've
just walked from Westhaven, and father will be expecting me home.
I won't have time to take the parcel to 'The Arabian Nights.'"
"Where did this come from?" asked Allen, tucking the parcel under his
arm.
"I got it from Cain, sir, at Colchester."
"Have you been there?" asked Hill, noting the girl's blush. He
knew that Cain and Jane Wasp admired one another, though the
policeman was not at all in favour of Cain, whom he regarded, and
with some right to do so, as a vagabond.
"Yes, sir. Mother sent me over with a message to a friend of
hers. I walked to Westhaven and took the train to Colchester.
Stag's Circus is there, and I met Cain. He brought that parcel
and asked me to take it to Mr. Hill."
"But why should Cain send parcels to my father?" asked Allen.
"I don't know, sir. But I must get home, or father will be
angry."
When the girl marched off--which she did in a military way
suggestive of her father's training--Allen proceeded homeward. The
parcel was very light and he could not conjecture what was inside
it. He noted that the address had been written by some one to whom
writing was a pain, for the caligraphy sprawled and wavered
lamentably. Cain had been to a board school and could write very
well, so apparently it was not his writing. Allen wondered who
could be corresponding with his father, but as the matter was
really none of his business, he took the parcel home. At the gate
of "The Arabian Nights" he met his father.
Mr. Hill was as gay and as airy as ever, and wore his usual brown
velvet coat and white trousers. Also he had on the large straw
hat, and a rose bloomed in his buttonhole. He saluted his son in
an off-hand manner. "I've been walking, Allen," he said lightly,
"to get inspiration for a poem on the fall of Jerusalem."
"I think some Italian poet has written on that subject, sir."
"But not as it should be written, Allen. However, I can't waste
time now in enlightening your ignorance. What have you here?"
"A parcel for you," and Allen gave it.
"For me, really." Mr. Hill was like a child with a new toy, and sat
down on the grass by the gate to open it. The removal of the brown
paper revealed a cardboard box. Hill lifted the lid, and there were
two dry sticks tied in the form of a cross with a piece of grass.
But Allen looked at this only for a moment. His father had turned
white, and after a moment quietly fainted away. The young man looked
down with a haggard face. "Am I right after all?" he asked himself.