MRS. BEZEL AGAIN.
ON returning home Claude found that Tait, contrary to his expressed
intention, had gone out. Dormer, who was packing a portmanteau for the
Horriston journey, could not inform Larcher when his master would be
back, but ventured an opinion that he would certainly return to
luncheon. Meanwhile, he handed to Claude some letters which had just
arrived, and with these the young man managed to pass a fairly
uncomfortable hour. Uncomfortable, because one of the letters was from
Mrs. Bezel, and proved of so puzzling a character that Larcher was in a
fever of impatience to discuss it with Tait.
The little man returned to luncheon, as was surmised by Dormer, and was
met in the hall by Claude with the open letter of Mrs. Bezel in his
hand.
"My dear fellow, why did you go out?" said Larcher complainingly. "I
have so much to tell you. I have seen Kerry, and now here is a letter
from Mrs. Bezel."
"What! is she on the stage again?" said Tait eagerly. "Let me see the
letter."
"Not yet," replied Claude, putting it promptly behind his back. "You
must first tell me why you left the house, when you ought to be packing
up for Horriston."
Tait shrugged his shoulders, bowed to the inevitable, and went into the
dining room. Here he sat at the table and began to carve some cold beef,
thereby throwing Claude into a rage.
"You cold-blooded little monster," he cried, tapping on the table, "will
you satisfy my curiosity?"
"Why should I?" said Tait, grinning. "You won't satisfy mine."
"Then read the letter," retorted Claude, throwing it across the table.
To his surprise Tait placed it on one side.
"Not yet!" he said, resuming his carving. "We must have a talk first.
Have some beef."
"I don't want beef, but information."
"You shall have both," said Tait calmly. "Do you prefer beer or claret?"
"Beer!" replied Larcher resignedly, falling in with the tricksey humor
of his friend. Tait was a man with whom it was impossible to quarrel.
"Dormer, fill Mr. Larcher's glass; put the claret jug beside me, and
leave the room. We will wait on ourselves."
As stolid as a wooden image Dormer obeyed these instructions, and
wheeled out of the room. Tait ate a few mouthfuls of beef, drank a glass
of claret, and prepared to talk. His first remark was a bombshell.
"I have seen Paynton," said he slowly.
"The deuce you have!" cried Claude, in surprise; "and how did you manage
to take his castle by storm?"
"Easily enough, by the help of a lie and a little strategy. I went out
to see if you were at your post, and caught sight of Kerry crossing the
fields. As I knew Jenny would be at the Lintons',--for she goes there to
see the old lady every morning,--I guessed that Rose Cottage would be
undefended; so back I ran to the house, picked up a book which I had
promised to lend the young lady, and went to pay my visit."
"How did you get inside the gate? It is generally locked."
"It wasn't on this occasion," replied Tait complacently. "I opened it
and walked in, to find old Paynton strolling in the garden. Catching
sight of me, he turned back to re-enter the house, but, luckily, I was
between him and the door, so we met face to face."
"What kind of a man is he to look at?"
"Oh, a fine-looking old chap, with white hair and beard, a skullcap, and
a dressing gown. Quite the get up of a necromancer."
"Did he speak to you," asked Claude, having considered this description.
"He asked me politely what my business was; whereupon I presented the
book, and mentioned that it was for his daughter. He replied that she
was at the Lintons', and would be back soon, when he would give her the
book himself. Then he asked me to excuse him, and bowed me out of the
gate. But," added Tait, with emphasis, "not before I had mentioned that
Mr. Claude Larcher was staying with me."
"Did my name produce any effect?"
"Rather! Paynton changed color, and mumbled something unintelligible.
Then he turned his back and walked quickly into the house, leaving me to
close the gate myself. Depend upon it, he knows something, Claude."
"But his name isn't mentioned in connection with the case."
"Of course not. Paynton is a feigned one. And, as I have said before,
there are, no doubt, actors in the tragedy of whom we know nothing."
"There is one of that sort mentioned here," said Larcher, picking up
Mrs. Bezel's letter. "Read that, Tait, and see what you make of it."
It proved to be a short note, hastily written, and ran as follows:
"MY DEAR CLAUDE:
"If you are still in doubt as to who murdered your father, ask
Mr. Hilliston to tell you about Louisa Sinclair, who lived at
Horriston twenty-five years ago. She knows.
"Your affectionate mother,
"MARGARET BEZEL."
"Louisa Sinclair," repeated Tait slowly, having mastered the contents of
this letter. "No, I never heard of her. It is strange that Hilliston has
never mentioned her name."
"No doubt he had good reasons for not doing so," said Claude bitterly.
"You need not look so astonished, Tait. I have long ago come round to
your opinion of my old guardian. His intimacy with Paynton and the
effect of his visit on Kerry would convince me--not to speak of that
'anonymous letter.'"
"Ah! Kerry refused to speak."
"He would not say a word, and, moreover, stated that he was not Denis
Bantry; that he had never heard of Horriston. In fact, he acted his part
excellently well till the last. Then he broke down, and, afraid of
letting the cat out of the bag, he ran away."
"Exactly what his master did," said Tait thoughtfully. "Depend upon it,
Claude, we will learn the truth from one of those two."
"If you think so, why go to Horriston?"
"Because I want to learn the real name of Paynton, and, moreover, here
is an additional reason. I must find out Louisa Sinclair."
"There is no mention of her in the case."
"Quite true. And there is no mention of Paynton; but for all that he
knows about it. Oh, you may be sure there are circumstances to be
discovered at Horriston which never came to light at the trial."
"My mother is anxious for the mystery to be cleared up."
"So I see, and I am glad of it," said Tait, with an affectation of
carelessness. "I thought she was too ill to take an interest in the
matter."
"Am I to ask Hilliston about this woman?" said Claude, looking up in
some doubt.
"No," replied his friend, after a few moments' deliberation. "Our
success in this depends on keeping Hilliston in the dark concerning our
movements. If we tell him too much he may thwart us, as he has done
already in this Paynton business. Say nothing about Louisa Sinclair, or
about my visit to Horriston. Tell him I have gone to town, and let him
figure out the reason for himself. By the way, when do you see him?"
"On Friday evening. Both he and his wife are coming to dine, and stop
all night at the vicarage. You may be sure Hilliston will put me through
a thorough cross-examination regarding your absence."
"Refer him to Mr. Linton," said Tait coolly. "I am writing to that
gentleman, telling him I am unexpectedly called to town on particular
business. What that business is Hilliston will be anxious to know. I
don't think he'll enjoy his evening at all. A guilty conscience mars all
pleasure."
"When do you leave?"
"By the 4.20 train this afternoon. I'll write you about my discoveries
as soon as I find out anything worth scribbling about."
"You'll find nothing," said Claude dolefully; "after five-and-twenty
years."
"I'll find out who Louisa Sinclair is, and then astonish Hilliston with
the extent of my information. Regarding Paynton, I am not so certain.
That discovery rests between you and Denis Bantry."
"I'll do my best, but I am doubtful," replied Claude, and so the
conversation terminated for the time being. It left a lasting impression
on the two who took part in it.
Tait duly took his departure with Dormer, leaving Claude in possession
of the house. As he leaned out of the window of the smoking carriage, he
said a last word to his friend:
"Don't tell Hilliston about my going to Horriston," he said
significantly; "but if you get a chance inform his wife of the fact."
"Why?"
"I'll tell you that when I come back," said Tait, as the train moved
slowly off. "Give her the information, and observe the effect; it will
astonish you."
But Tait counted without his host; he was ignorant of Mrs. Hilliston's
powers of self-control.