Westwood had scouted Cynthia's notion that the woman in black who seemed
to be following them could possibly be a spy; nevertheless he meditated
upon it with some anxiety, and resolved, on his arrival at his lodgings,
to be wary and circumspect--also to show that he was on his guard. He
relapsed therefore into the very uncommunicative "single gentleman" whom
Mrs. Gunn, his landlady, had at first found him to be, and refused
rather gruffly her invitation that afternoon to take tea with her in her
own parlor in the company of herself and her niece.
"He's grumpier than ever," she said to this niece, who was no other than
Sabina Meldreth, now paying a visit--on business principles--of
indefinite duration to her aunt's abode in Camden Town; "and I did think
that you'd melted him a bit last week, Sabina! But he's as close as
wax! Let's sit down to our tea before it gets black and bitter, as he
won't come."
"He must have seen me in the Gardens," said Sabina, who was dressed in
the brightest of blue gowns, with red ribbons at her throat and wrists,
"though I should never have thought that he would recognise me, being in
black and having that thick black veil over my face."
"I don't see what you wanted to foller him for!" said Mrs. Gunn. "What
business o' yours was it where he went and what he did? I don't think
you'll ever make anything of him"--for Miss Meldreth had begun to harbor
matrimonial designs on the unconscious Mr. Reuben Dare.
"I'm not so sure," said Sabina. "Once get a man by himself, and you can
do a' most anything with him, so long as there's no other woman in the
way."
"And is there another woman in the way?"
"Yes, aunt Eliza, there is."
"You don't say so!" exclaimed Mrs. Gunn, emptying the water-jug into the
tea-pot in pure absence of mind. "You saw him with one, did you?"
"Yes, aunt Eliza, I did."
"And what was she like, Sabina?"
"Well, some folks would call her handsome," said Sabina dubiously; "and
she was dressed like a lady--I'll say that for her. But what's odd is
that I'm nearly sure I heard her call him 'father.' She's young enough
to be his daughter, anyway."
"Did he call her anything?"
"I couldn't hear. But I'll tell you what I did afterwards, aunt Eliza; I
followed her when she came out at the gate--and she didn't see me then.
She went straight to a house in Norton Square; and I managed to make
some inquiries about her at a confectioner's shop in the neighborhood.
The house belongs to a music-mistress; and this girl is a singer.
'Cynthia West,' they call her--I've seen her name in the newspapers.
Well, I thought I would wait round a bit, and presently I saw a man go
to the house to deliver a note; and thinks I to myself, 'I know that
face.' And so I did. It was Mr. Lepel's man, Jenkins, as used to come
down with him to Beechfield."
"You don't say so!" cried Mrs. Gunn, raising her hands in amazement.
"He knew me," Sabina proceeded tranquilly; "and so we had a little chat
together. I says to him, 'Who is it you take notes to at number
five--the old lady or the young one?' 'Oh,' says he, 'the young one, to
be sure. Scrumptious, isn't she?' 'Cynthia West?' says I. 'Yes,' he
says--'and Mrs. Hubert Lepel before very long, if I've got eyes to see!
He's always after her.' 'That ain't very likely,' I said, 'because he's
got a young lady already in the country.' 'One in the country and one in
the town,' he says, with a wink--'that's the usual style, isn't it?'
And, seeing that he was disposed to be familiar, I said good-day to him
and came away."
"What will you do now then, Sabina?"
"Well," said Sabina reflectively, "I think I shall let Mrs. Vane know.
She'd be glad to have a sort of handle against her brother, I'm
thinking. And these people--Mr. Dare and Miss West--seem to have got
something to do with Beechfield, for I'm certain it was to Beechfield he
went when he left here for that fortnight. He gave no address--that was
natural maybe--but he'd got the Whitminster label on his bag when he
came back. And, if Miss West was being courted by Mr. Lepel, and her
father wanted to know who Mr. Lepel was and all about him, he might
easily gather that Beechfield was the place to go to. I suppose he
wanted to find out whether Mr. Lepel was engaged to Miss Vane or not.
And I've a sort of idea too that there's something mysterious about it
all. Why shouldn't he have said straight out where he was going,
especially when I had already told him that I knew Whitminster so well
and belonged to Beechfield? It seems to me that Mr. Dare has got
something to conceal; and I'd like to know what it is before I go any
farther."
"Any farther!" said her aunt contemptuously. "It don't seem to me that
you've got very far!"
"Farther than you think," was Miss Meldreth's reply. "He's afraid of me,
or else he would have come to tea this afternoon. And a woman can always
manage a man that's afraid of her."
Fortified by this conviction, Sabina sat down after tea to indite a
letter to Mrs. Vane. She was not a very deft scribe, and the spelling of
certain words was a mystery to her. But, with the faults of its
orthography corrected the letter finally stood thus--
"MADAM--I thought you might like to know as how there is a gentleman,
named Reuben Dare, lodging here at my aunt's, as seems to have a secret
interest in Beechfield. I think, but I am not quite sure, that he spent
a few days at the Beechfield inn not long ago. He is tall and thin and
brown, with white hair and beard and very black eyes. He will not talk
much about Beechfield, and yet seems to know it well. Says he comes from
America. He was walking for a long time in Kensington Garden this
morning with a young woman that goes by the name of Cynthia West and is
a singer. She calls; him 'Father.' Madam, I take the liberty of
informing you that Mr. H. Lepel visits her constant, and is said to be
going to marry her. She is what gentlemen call good-looking, though too
dark for my taste. It does not seem to be generally known that she has a
parent living.
"Yours respectfully,
"SABINA MELDRETH."
Mrs. Vane read this letter with considerable surprise. She meditated
upon it for some time with closed lips and knitted brows; then she rang
the bell for Parker.
"Parker," she said, "can you tell me whether any strangers have been
visiting Beechfield lately?"
"Oh, yes, ma'am! There was an old gentleman at the 'Crown' a few days
ago. The post-office woman told me that he came from America."
"Do you know his name?"
"Yes, ma'am--'Mr. Dare.'"
"The woman at the post-office told you that? Did you ever see him?"
"Yes, ma'am. He spoke to me one evening when I'd run out with a letter,
and asked me the way to the Hall."
"And then?"
"He said he'd heard of a Mr. Lepel at Beechfield, ma'am," said Parker,
rather reluctantly, "and that he knew a Mr. Lepel and wondered, whether
it was the same. But it wasn't. The Mr. Lepel he knew was short and fair
and was married; the Mr. Lepel that came here, as I told him, was dark
and tall and engaged to Miss Vane."
"You had no right to tell him that, Parker; it is not public property."
"I beg your pardon, I'm sure, ma'am! I'd heard it so often that I
thought everybody knew."
"What else did this Mr. Dare say?"
"I don't remember, ma'am."
"Did he ask no other questions? Did he ask, for instance, whether Mr.
Lepel was not very fond of Miss Vane?"
"Well, yes, ma'am; now you mention it I think he did--though how you
came to guess it----"
"Never mind how I came to guess it. What did you say?"
"I said that he worshipped the ground she trod upon, and that she was
just the same with him."
"And pray how did you know that?"--Parker shuffled.
"Well, ma'am, I couldn't rightly say; but it's what is general with
young ladies and young gentlemen, and it wouldn't have looked well, I
thought, to ha' said anythink else."
"Oh, I see! The remark was purely conventional," said Flossy cynically.
"I congratulate you, Parker, on always doing as much harm as you can
whenever you take anything in hand. Did he seem pleased by what you
said?"
"Not exactly pleased, ma'am--nor displeased; I think, if anything, he
was more pleased than not."
"That will do," Mrs. Vane said shortly; and Parker retired, much
relieved in her mind by having come off, as she considered, so well.
Mrs. Vane proceeded to electrify the household the next morning by
declaring that she must at once go up to London in order to see her
dentist. She announced her intention at a time when the General, much to
his annoyance, could not possibly accompany her. She said to him very
sweetly that she had chosen that hour on purpose because she did not
want to put him to needless inconvenience, and that she preferred to go
with Parker only as her companion. She hated to be seen, she said, when
she was in pain.
The General fumed and fretted; but, as he had an important meeting to
attend at Whitminster that day, he could but put his wife into the train
and give Parker endless injunctions to be careful of her mistress.
Parker promised fervently to do all that lay in her power; and with a
serene smile Flossy listened to the General's orders and her maid's
asseverations with equal tranquility. They had the carriage to
themselves; and not until the train was nearly to London did Mrs. Vane
rouse herself from the restful semi-slumber in which she seemed to have
passed the journey. Then she sat up suddenly, with a curiously
wide-awake and resolute air, and addressed herself to her maid.
"I shall not require you at all to-day, Parker. I brought you only
because the General would never have allowed me to come alone; but I
dislike being attended by any one when I go to the dentist's or to the
doctor's. You may wait at the railway-station until I come back. I may
be only an hour, or I may be gone all day."
"The General's orders, ma'am," began Parker, with a gasp; but her
mistress cut the sentence short at once.
"I suppose you understand that you are my servant and not the
General's?" she said. "You will obey my orders, if you please."
She gave the maid some money, and instructions to spend as much as she
pleased at buffet and book-stalls until her return.
"Enjoy yourself as much as you like and as much as you can," said Mrs.
Vane carelessly--"only don't stir from the station, for when I come back
I shall want you at once."
She installed the faithful Parker safely in the waiting-room, and then
went out and got into a cab--not a hansom cab; Mrs. Vane did not wish to
be seen in her drive through the London streets. The address which she
gave to the cabman was not that of her dentist, but of the lodgings at
present tenanted by her brother.
Parker remained at the station in a state of tearful collapse. She was
terribly afraid of being questioned and stormed at by the General when
she got back for neglect of her trust. She was certainly what Flossy had
called her--"a faithful fool." She wanted to do all that her mistress
required; but it had not as yet even occurred to her that Mrs. Vane was
quite certain to require utter silence, towards the General and
everybody else, on the question of her disposition of the day. And, if
silence was impossible, a good bold lie would do as well. Parker had not
yet grasped the full amount of devotion that was expected of her.
Hubert had seldom been more surprised in his life than when the
elegantly-dressed lady who was ushered into his sitting-room proved to
be his sister Florence. She had never visited him before. He sprang up
from his writing-table, which was piled high with books and manuscripts,
flung a half-smoked cigar into the grate, and greeted her with a mixture
of doubt and astonishment, which amused if it did not flatter the astute
Mrs. Vane.
"This is indeed an unexpected pleasure! I hope you are not the bearer of
ill news, Flossy! Is anything wrong at Beechfield?"
"Oh, dear, no! I came up to see my dentist," said Flossy carelessly,
"and I thought that I would give you a call _en passant_. So these are
your rooms? Not at all bad for a bachelor!"
"That is high praise from you, I suppose," said Hubert, smiling faintly.
"But you do not look at all well, Hubert. What is the matter with you?
You look terribly fagged!"
Her remark was justified by his appearance. His face had a drawn look
which added ten years to his age; his eyes seemed almost to have sunk
into his head. He made an impatient gesture, and looked away.
"I have not been very well," he said; "but there is no need to speak
about it. I am very busy, and I want rest--change of scene and air."
"Why not come down to Beechfield?"
He gave a slight but perceptible shudder.
"No," he said briefly, and then stood leaning against his writing-table,
and was silent.
"Hubert," said his sister, a little more quickly than usual, "I said
that I wanted to see my dentist, but I had another reason for coming to
town. Can you tell me where I can find a file of the _Times_ newspaper
for the early months of the year 187-?"--she mentioned the year of
Sydney Vane's death and the trial of Andrew Westwood.
"You want--the trial?" said her brother, with an evident effort. She
bowed her head.
"Why?"
"I have forgotten one or two points in the evidence. I want to recall
them to my mind."
He stood looking at her silently.
"It doesn't matter," she said, feigning indifference, and rising as if
to take her leave; "I can see the papers in a public library, no doubt.
The General would not have a copy left in the house. I will go
elsewhere."
"It is needless," Hubert answered, in a gloomy tone. "I have kept copies
myself. Wait a moment, and I will bring them to you."
"I thought that you would probably possess them," said Flossy softly, as
she settled herself once more in her comfortable chair.
He went into another room, and soon returned bearing in his arms a
little pile of papers, yellow indeed with age, but, as Mrs. Vane
noticed, completely free from dust. It was evident that some one else
had been very lately perusing them; but she made no comment on the
subject.
"Go on with your writing," she said, beginning to take off her gray
gloves with admirable coolness. "I can find what I want without your
aid."
He gave her a long look, then set the papers on a little table beside
her and returned to his own seat. He did not however begin to write
again. He turned the chair almost with its back to Mrs. Vane, and
clasped his hands behind his fine dark head. In this position he
remained perfectly motionless until she had finished her examination of
the newspapers. In a quarter of an hour she declared herself satisfied.
"Have you found all that you wanted?"
"Oh; yes, thank you!" One important item she had certainly secured--the
fact that Westwood's daughter had been named "Cynthia Janet." "Cynthia
Janet Westwood"--"Cynthia West"--it was plain enough to her quick
intelligence that the two were one and the same. Hubert had never
thought of looking for the name of Westwood's little daughter in the
_Times_.
"By-the-bye," said Flossy lightly, "I hear sad tales of you in town. How
often is it that you go to see the new singer--Miss West? Has poor Enid
a rival?"
He did not look round; but she saw that her question sent a shock
through his nerves.
"I do not know what you mean," he answered coldly.
"Oh, do you not? You may as well speak the truth--to me, Hubert. Are you
going to marry Miss West or Miss Vane--which?"
"Neither, I think."
"Don't be absurd. Are you going to marry Miss West?"
"No."
"Shall you marry Enid Vane?"
"It is not very likely that she will marry me."
Something in the intense dreariness of his tone struck painfully on
Florence's ear. She rose and put her hand on Hubert's shoulder.
"What is the matter with you, Hubert?"
He shook off her hand as if it had been a noxious reptile of which he
desired to rid himself, and rose to his feet.
"You must not mind what I say to-day, Florence. I am not well. I--I
shall see you another time."
"Of course you will--plenty of times, I hope!" A look of dismay began to
show itself in Flossy's velvet-brown eyes. "You are not contemplating
any new step, I hope? I----"
"Don't be alarmed!" he said, with a hoarse unnatural laugh. "Before I
take any new step I will come to you. I will not leave you without a
warning." Then he seemed to recover his self-possession and spoke in
more measured tones. "Nonsense, Florence--don't concern yourself about
me! I have a bad headache--that is all. If I am left alone, I shall soon
be better."
"I hope you will," said Flossy, rather gravely, "for you look alarmingly
ill to-day. You should send for the doctor, Hubert. And now I will say
good-bye, for I have two or three other things to do to-day, besides
going to my dentist's. The cab is at the door; you need not come down."
He rose, as she really expected him to do, to see her to her cab; but a
sensation of dizziness and faintness made him sit down again and bury
his head in his hands. Considerably alarmed, Florence rang for Jenkins,
his man, and gave strict orders that the doctor should be sent for at
once. Then, feeling that she had for the present at least done her duty,
she took her leave, promising to call again before she left town that
afternoon.
Jenkins went for the doctor, as Mrs. Vane had told him to do. When that
gentleman arrived, he found Mr. Lepel stretched on a sofa in a
half-unconscious state, and declared him to be in one of the incipient
stages of brain-fever.