FACT AND FICTION.
A SILENCE ensued between them; Tait waiting to mark the effect of his
revelation, while Jenny tried to grasp the idea that fiction had changed
unexpectedly to fact. To her the case had been more or less of a
romance, far removed and impossible; as such she had told it to Linton;
but now, brought face to face with the fact that the murdered man's son
was in the neighborhood, she scarcely knew what to think, certainly she
was ignorant what to say. The shock would have unstrung a more nervous
woman, but Jenny Paynton was not wanting in pluck, and so braced herself
up to do what was required of her. Yet it took her a little time to
recover, and seeing this, Tait afforded her the opportunity by talking
broadly of the matter; later on he intended to enter into details.
"I do not wonder you are startled, Miss Paynton," he said easily; "this
is a coincidence such as we rarely meet with in real life. My friend was
ignorant of his father's fate, but one evening papers were put into his
hands which recounted the tragedy; papers similar to those whence you
obtained the story. He came to tell me all, but scarcely had he begun
his relation, when I became aware that I knew everything beforehand."
"Had you also seen the papers, Mr. Tait?"
"No; but I had read 'A Whim of Fate.' There I found the Larcher affair
set forth in the guise of fiction. Astonished at this I sought out
Linton, who, I learned, was the author hidden under the name of John
Parver, and asked him whence he obtained his material. He mentioned your
name, and so I have come to you."
"Why?"
"Can you ask? To find out all you know of the matter."
"For what reason?"
"I think you can guess my reason," replied Tait quietly. "My friend
Claude Larcher wishes to find out who killed his father."
"After five-and-twenty years? Impossible!"
"So I said at first. Now I am of a different opinion. In a short space
of time we have found out a great deal. With your help we will discover
more, and so in the end the matter may be cleared up."
"You want my help?"
"Decidedly! It is solely for that reason that Larcher and I have come
here."
It was a pale-faced Jenny who sat considering a reply to this remark.
She began to be aware that she had inadvertently set a ball rolling, the
progress of which she was powerless to stop. That chance discovery in
the garret had resuscitated an old scandal, and brought her into contact
with people of whose existence she had hitherto been ignorant. As a
matter of fact Jenny was responsible for the revival of the Larcher
affair. Her narration of the plot had caused the writing of the novel,
and that in its turn had freshened the memory of Mrs. Bezel, with the
result that Claude had been told the truth. Now he had come to the
source to learn more.
"I don't see how I can help," said Jenny, fencing with the inevitable.
"If, as you say, Mr. Larcher saw the _Canterbury Observer_, he must know
as much as I do about the matter."
"Very true," replied Tait promptly; "but there are many things in the
novel which are not mentioned in the report of the case."
"Those things are fictitious. You must go to Frank for information about
them."
"Was that scarfpin episode fictitious?"
"No," replied Jenny, with some hesitation. "Kerry told me that."
"Kerry!"
"Our man-servant. He has been with my father ever since I can remember,
and is quite the autocrat of the household. He found me with those
papers one day after I told Frank the story, and took them away from me.
You have no idea how angry he was that I had read them."
"Yet he told you about the scarfpin?"
"Oh! that was because I asked him who had committed the crime," said
Jenny quickly. "At first he would not talk about it, but when I said
that no doubt Jeringham was guilty, since he had fled, Kerry denied it,
and asserted that the crime was committed by the man who owned the
garnet scarfpin."
"Did he say who owned it?"
"No. He went away before I could ask him, and will not let me speak of
the matter. In the book Frank makes Michael Dene the owner of the pin."
"Ah! and Michael Dene is Francis Hilliston in real life."
"How do you know that?" asked the girl quickly, with a nervous start.
"My dear young lady, I have read the report of the case and the novel.
It is easy to see who your fictitious personages are. Do you know Mr.
Hilliston?"
"A little. He has visited my father once or twice, but we have not seen
him now for many years. In fact, I had almost forgotten his name till I
saw it in the case."
"Humph! In the novel Michael Dene, the man meant for Hilliston, commits
the crime. Was that your idea or Linton's?"
"It was Frank's. Dene was the least likely person to be suspected, and
it was necessary to keep up the mystery to the end. But I think he ought
to have made Markham commit the crime."
"Markham is Jeringham, is he not?" said Tait thoughtfully. "With your
permission, Miss Paynton, we will use the real names, not the
fictitious. It will help us to understand the matter more clearly."
Jenny stood up, and tucked the music book under her arm. The
recollection of Kerry's anger made her feel that she was unwise to talk
so freely to a stranger about the matter. Hitherto, Tait had taken his
own way; now she was resolved to take hers.
"I don't want to speak any more about it," she said resolutely. "I am
very sorry I told Frank the story, and meddled with those papers. Let me
pass, Mr. Tait, and drop the subject."
"No, don't do that," cried Tait, rising in his turn, and barring her
way. "You must not fail me at the eleventh hour. My friend is bent on
learning the truth, and surely you will not grudge him help. Remember it
is the murderer of his father whom he desires to bring to justice."
"I can't say any more. I know no more, Mr. Tait. Do you know what I am
about to do?"
"No," said Tait, looking at her grave face in some wonder.
"I am going home to tell my father and Kerry what use I made of those
papers. If I have acted wrongly, it is but right that they should know."
"They will know shortly without your telling, Miss Jenny."
"Ah, you intend to speak of the matter yourself?"
"Perhaps! But in this case I allude to Hilliston."
"Hilliston!" repeated Jenny, in surprise. "What has he to do with the
matter?"
"A great deal, I fancy. More than you or I suspect. He is now at
Eastbourne, and I am certain he will come over here to see you
to-morrow."
"To see me! Why?"
"Because he wants you to hold your tongue about these matters."
"Mr. Tait," she cried, with a sudden flush, "surely you are not biased
by Frank's book? You imply that Mr. Hilliston is afraid of the truth."
"I think he is! In fact I am sure he is."
"Do you believe he committed that cowardly crime of twenty-five years
ago?" asked Jenny, with scorn.
"What is your own opinion?" was the counter question.
"I believe that Jeringham was the murderer. Yes! Captain Larcher went in
disguise to that ball, and learned the truth from the lips of his own
wife. I believe she loved Jeringham. I believe he followed her home on
that fatal night, urging her to fly. Then Captain Larcher appeared on
the scene, and in the struggle that ensued he was killed. Jeringham
fled, and Mrs. Larcher died. That, I am certain, is the true history of
this crime."
"You, then, think that Mrs. Larcher was privy to the murder?"
"Oh, I don't say that!" said the girl, shrinking back; "it is impossible
to say. But I have no right to talk to you about these matters, Mr.
Tait. I have told you all I know. Let me pass, please."
Tait bowed, and stood aside hat in hand. She flitted down the aisle, a
slim girlish figure, and had arrived at the door when his voice arrested
her.
"One moment, Miss Paynton," he said, following her quickly.
"What is it?"
"Don't tell your father of this for twenty-four hours."
"Why?"
"Because I want to prove to you that what I say is true. Hilliston will
inform your father himself, and ask you to be silent."
"It is too late for that now--unfortunately."
"Why unfortunately? You should be glad to have strengthened the hands of
justice. However, we need not speak of that now. Will you promise to
withhold your confession for the time I ask?"
"I promise nothing, Mr. Tait. Good-evening!"
"But, Miss Paynton," he said, following her again, "you surely will not
be so rash. You can have no idea how important these matters are to my
friend. Mr. Hilliston is certain to inform your father within the next
twenty-four hours, so surely you can give us that time to do what we
can. I beg of you----"
Jenny stopped irresolutely, and looked at Tait with a mixture of anger
and doubt. The matter had now grown so intricate that she did not know
what to do, what to say. She had not known Tait long enough to be guided
by his advice, or to rely on his judgment; and her impulse was to tell
her father and receive suggestions as to what was best to be done under
the circumstances. Yet, she also mistrusted Hilliston, as his connection
with the Horriston case seemed to her to be by no means as simple as had
appeared at first sight. She was suspicious of him, and if he came over
to Thurston especially to ask her to be silent, that would go a long way
toward confirming her doubts. And then, after all, no harm could be done
within the twenty-four hours, as afterward she could tell her father;
thus, at once satisfying her conscience and her curiosity, she made the
compromise.
"Very well, Mr. Tait," she said gravely. "I promise to be silent for
twenty-four hours."