I suppose it was inevitable that even my best efforts at being
pleasant should have failed to convince Lady Baradell that my
feelings towards her had not changed. People do not as a rule choose
quite such unconventional hours for calling except with the
expectation of a considerably more enthusiastic welcome than I was
prepared to offer.
I saw suspicion and anger gathering slowly in her face, and finally
she stepped back and clenched her hands.
"Why are you trying to deceive me?" she broke out passionately.
"There is someone else. Tell me the truth, Stuart, at once."
The truth being exactly what I didn't want to tell her, I remained in
a state of embarrassed silence.
"Oh, there's no need for you to speak," she added bitterly; "I know
you too well." Then rage, murderous, ungovernable rage, flamed
suddenly into her eyes. "You fool! Do you think I am the sort of
woman to be picked up and thrown aside at a man's whim? Did you
imagine for one single moment that you could deceive me?"
"No," I admitted sadly, "I didn't."
She laughed--an unpleasant, mirthless laugh, and, throwing back her
hair, stared me full in the face like some splendid tigress.
"I love you, Stuart," she said steadily; "I love you as I don't think
many women have loved men; but I will see you dead before I let any
other woman have you."
Then, without another word, she turned and left the room.
I stood for a moment where I was, looking at the door. I felt rather
like a man who had unwittingly touched off a dynamite cartridge.
Whatever might be the precise value of Lady Baradell's last threat, I
knew that I had managed to make an enemy more dangerous than any
Northcote had already bequeathed me. With a heartfelt deliberation I
cursed my double and all his works.
Somewhat relieved by this outbreak, I again retired to bed. As a
sleeping draught, however, I found that Lady Baradell was a distinct
failure. For a couple of hours at least I must have tossed about
restlessly, turning over in my mind every aspect of this new
development which threatened to complicate still further my already
harassed path. Indeed, it was only sheer physical fatigue that at
last closed my eyes in a welcome unconsciousness.
Sleep, however brief, always has the excellent effect of restoring me
to my natural cheerfulness. I woke up next morning as buoyant as
though no midnight reception had interfered with my customary eight
hours. The morning sun was blazing into my room through the open
window, and a discreet-looking man-servant was laying out my bath.
"Would you like it hot or cold, sir?" he inquired.
"Cold, this weather, I think," said I. "What time is breakfast?"
"Nine o'clock, sir. It's just gone a quarter to eight now."
"Good," I observed approvingly. This gave me plenty of time to make
my toilet like a gentleman and get out and see Billy in the roadway,
before joining the rest of the party over their eggs and bacon.
It was exactly half-past, by the clock on the mantelpiece, as I left
my room. I went downstairs quietly and quickly, for I had no wish to
run into Maurice or anyone else, and made my way across the garden
and out through a small side gate into the main road. The birds were
singing gaily in the hedges, and out of a blue sky the sun shone down
with the most comforting warmth. As the Yankees say, I "felt
good"--distinctly good.
Billy was sitting on a bank just round the first corner, smoking his
pipe. He waved me a cheerful greeting.
"They've not scragged you in the night, then," he said with
satisfaction.
"On the contrary, Billy," I said, "I have met with nothing but
affection and kindness." I seated myself beside him and sniffed
critically. "I don't think much of your 'baccy," I added.
"It's the Plough's best," retorted Billy. "You're getting swelled
head." Then he slapped me on the shoulder. "Jack," he said, "I've
found my job in life--I can give Sherlock Holmes two stone and put
him out in the first round."
Billy was not given to boasting, so I looked at him with interest.
"Proceed, William," I said encouragingly.
He stuffed the 'baccy down with his thumb and chuckled to himself.
"Last night," he began, "I did a bit of scouting. I thought it would
be just as well to sniff around and see how the land lay, so, as soon
as I'd had some grub, I tootled along here as far as the lodge. I
hung about outside for a bit, taking my bearings, and then, as there
wasn't anybody about, I dropped in over the hedge and tracked up
through the shrubbery till I got to the house. I'd been there about
ten minutes, squatting down under a bush, when who should come up the
drive but your old dot-and-carry-one friend!"
"Who?" I inquired.
"Why, the chap who doctored your butler's drink. At least, it was
exactly like your description of him. A big, ugly, lopsided beggar
he was, with one shoulder about an inch higher than the other."
"Go on, Billy," I said. "This is getting exciting."
"Well, he crawled up in a hang-dog sort of way, and sat down on the
balustrade just in front of where I was hiding. I thought he was
expecting somebody, and sure enough, he hadn't been there many
minutes when out came a fellow in evening-dress--your cousin, I
should reckon, by the cut of his jib."
"Maurice did take a little air after dinner," I observed. "He said
he wanted to see the keeper."
"Did he?" drawled Billy. "Well, he saw him all right. They stood
there jawing for the best part of twenty minutes, and all about you,
my son."
"Was it interesting?" I asked.
"What I heard was, but I only got on to about every tenth word. They
were doing the whispering act most of the time. Seemed to me they
were fixing up something for to-day--something about you and the sea
wall, as far as I could get it."
I nodded. "There's going to be an accident at our shooting party
this afternoon, unless I'm much mistaken," I said.
"Looks like it," answered Billy grimly. "They seemed cursedly
pleased with themselves, anyhow. The only other thing I heard was
about your girl with the pistol--what's her name--Mercia."
"Mercia!" I echoed. "What were they saying about her?"
Billy grinned in a very aggravating manner. "I like to see you
getting interested, Jack," he said. Then, removing his pipe, he
knocked out the ashes against the bank.
"Billy," I said, "you're playing with death. Get on."
"I only heard her name," he chuckled. "The lop-sided gentleman
trotted it out and repeated it about four times. I think he was
annoyed with her over something, from the way he was speaking. Your
cousin seemed to be rubbing it in."
A sudden uneasiness about Mercia's safety flashed through my mind. I
had excellent proof that we were dealing with a pretty reckless gang,
and if it was known that she had warned me against coming to Ashton
she might well be in as grave danger as myself.
Billy evidently read my thoughts. "I think she's all right at
present," he said, "for the simple reason that the whole gang seem to
be hot on your track. I've not told you the best part yet, Jack.
I've actually had the luck to run 'em to earth."
He sat back and looked at me proudly.
"By Jove, Billy!" I cried. "You're a wonder! How did you do it?"
"Well, after the little confab was over, and your cousin had cleared
off into the house, I gave old Dot-and-carry-one time to get back
into the road, and then I followed him. I had to give him a couple
of hundred yards or so, or he might have tumbled to it. He went
straight back to Woodford, and, as luck would have it, I was just in
time to see him turn into a pub.--not the Plough; another one this
side of it. I followed him in, and found him shifting raw brandy.
He's a Dago right enough--there's no question about it."
"Did you speak to him?" I asked.
Billy shook his head. "I thought it best to lie low. The landlord,
who was a talkative sort of ass, seemed to know him, so I waited a
bit, and, after our pal had cleared off, I asked who he was. 'Oh,'
said the landlord, 'that's an Eyetalian gentleman, Moosyer Berretti.
He's just taken the Hollies, Colonel Paton's house, for some months.
Moved in yesterday, I believe. Nice, pleasant-spoken gent he is,
too."
"There's room for all opinions," I said, with a laugh. "Milford
didn't fancy him at all."
"The landlord thought no end of him," said Billy. "In fact, he got
quite confidential. His brother, it seems, was gardener at the
Hollies, so of course he knew all about it. There's
Dot-and-carry-one, and a lady he calls his wife, and another chap who
arrived to-day. I asked whether he had a broken nose, and he said
no; so it can't be Francis."
"I expect it's the gentleman I owe this stiff shoulder to," I said.
"Nice little family party, anyway. Where is the Hollies?"
Billy jerked his head up the road. "Quite close," he said, "just
outside Woodford. A small white house on the left. I mean to
inspect it to-night." Then he paused. "Jack," he said, "I'm not
quite happy about this shooting business."
"Neither am I," I answered truthfully.
"Why do you go? Can't you make some excuse?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "What's the use? It only means they'll try
some other way. At least I know what to expect this afternoon."
"Yes, there's that," said Billy. "Look here, I've got an idea.
Suppose I get hold of a boat and cruise around outside the sea wall
while you're shooting. I might be of use some way or another--one
never knows."
"Right you are, Billy," I said. "There's nothing like having command
of the sea." Then I looked at my watch. "I ought to be trotting
back," I added; "it's just on nine. I'll let you know about meeting
you to-morrow, if we don't run across each other this afternoon.
We're due down on the marsh about half-past five, I think."
"Well, be careful, old son," said Billy, gripping my hand. "By the
way, have you heard anything about Milford?"
I shook my head. "I left my address with the cook, and told her to
write if he turned up; but there was nothing from her this morning.
It beats me altogether. I could understand their trying to shift him
in order to plant 'Francis' on me; but after that little business
failed, what on earth could their game be?"
"Lord knows," said Billy. "But they've got him, evidently. Perhaps
he was more in with Northcote than we think. Anyhow, it's no use
worrying. Keep your eyes skinned this afternoon, and give me a hail
if there's any trouble."
He went off up the road, and, after waiting for a minute until he had
rounded the corner, I set off back to the house.
As I came across the garden, I saw Maurice and York standing outside,
on the terrace.
"Hullo!" cried the latter, "you've beaten us all. I thought I was
down first."
"It was too fine to lie in bed," I explained. "I've been inspecting
the country."
If Maurice had any suspicions, he kept them to himself. "I should
never have accused you of laziness," he answered. "Come along in and
let's have some breakfast. The gong's just gone."
We entered the dining-room, where Aunt Mary was occupying herself
with making the tea, and had scarcely settled into our places when we
were joined by Miss York and Lady Baradell, who came in together.
If I had not genuinely admired the latter before, I should certainly
have done so now. Far from there being any trace of embarrassment in
her manner, she appeared to be the most cheerful and unconcerned
person in the entire party.
"Dear me! How terribly energetic everyone is!" she said, looking
quizzically round the room. "Even Mr. Northcote down! I thought he
always breakfasted in bed."
York laughed. "Down!" he echoed. "Why, he's been out catching
butterflies."
"The early bird," I said, "is improving in his taste."
"Well, what are we all going to do this morning?" inquired Aunt Mary
briskly. "I suppose you won't be shooting till this afternoon, will
you, Maurice?"
The latter shook his head. "We might pick up a few rabbits if anyone
wants to," he answered; "but it's no good trying for duck till later.
What do you think, Stuart?"
"The duck will do for me all right," I said. I didn't see any reason
for running myself into unnecessary danger.
"Let's have some tennis this morning," said Miss York. "We haven't
tried the lawn yet. You play, don't you, Mr. Northcote?"
Having never touched a tennis racquet in my life, I was reluctantly
driven to lie.
"I think I'll look on and applaud," I said. "The car back-fired the
other day, and my wrist's still reminding me of it."
There was a general murmur of sympathy, which Maurice capped by
inquiring, I thought a little anxiously, whether I was sure I felt up
to shooting.
"Oh yes," I said; "I can still hold a gun straight."
After some discussion, it was agreed that Miss York and Maurice
should take on her brother and Vane. Vane, it appeared, was the
duffer of the party, while York, having played for the army, was
evidently a cut above the others.
The tennis lawn lay at the side of the house, and after breakfast was
over, and we had had a look at the morning papers, we took out some
chairs and placed them in the shadiest spots we could find which
commanded a view of the court. I was just settling myself down when
I saw Aunt Mary coming towards me.
So far I had had very little conversation with my hostess, her manner
at our first meeting, though courteous enough superficially, having
plainly showed me that I was by no means a welcome guest from her
point of view. Since then, however, she had perceptibly thawed, and
on the present occasion she came up to me with a smile on her kindly,
rather worried, face.
"I want to have a little talk with you, Stuart," she said as I pulled
round a chair for her.
"By all means," I answered, wondering what she might be leading up
to. "We've hardly had the chance of a chat since I came."
She looked at me thoughtfully. "You seem to me to have changed a
great deal lately."
This was in the nature of a frontal attack, but I met it calmly.
"Yes," I said, "I have changed."
"And for the better," she added. "Stuart, when you first came back
from South America, I disliked you intensely."
I bowed. "You were quite justified in doing so," I said.
"I don't know what your life out there had been," she went on, "so
it's not fair that I should judge you, but all my instincts seemed to
tell me that you were bad--bad through and through. I dreaded your
influence over Maurice."
She paused. The idea of anyone demoralising Maurice, if my judgment
of that young man was anything like correct, struck me as bordering
on the humorous. However, Aunt Mary's penetration into Northcote's
character was sufficiently startling to prevent my smiling.
"It will be Maurice's own fault," I said bluntly, "if he comes to any
harm through me."
She laid her hand on my arm. "I believe you, Stuart," she said.
"Since you have been down here this time, I seem, somehow, to have
reversed all my previous opinions of you. It's curious, because, as
a rule, my first impressions never alter."
"I am glad to provide the exception," I said. "And I'm glad, too,
that Maurice has someone who takes an interest in him."
"Ah!" she said; "it's about Maurice that I want to speak to you."
Then she hesitated a moment. "I am afraid Maurice is getting into
bad hands," she went on. "There is something on his mind--something
that has changed him terribly the last few months. It may be his
money affairs--I know he has been betting very heavily on horses--but
I can't help thinking that there's some other trouble as well."
I thought that I had a pretty shrewd notion what the other trouble
was.
"There is no one I can speak to about it except you, Stuart," she
added unhappily. "You at least are our nearest relative, and you
have seen a great deal of life. You know the temptations that a
young man like Maurice may get into. I want you, if you will, to try
and help him. With all his faults, he is dear Alice's boy. If it is
only a matter of money, we might be able to put things right between
us, perhaps; only I don't like to question him myself. He would take
it so much better from you."
I felt intensely sorry for the poor lady. Maurice was evidently very
dear to her; and although I believed firmly that the young blackguard
was scheming to murder me, I had no wish to bring any more lines of
sorrow into her care-worn face.
"I give you my word," I said simply, "that I'll do anything I can to
keep Maurice out of trouble."
She gave me a faint but very genuine smile of gratitude. "Thank you,
Stuart," she said. "I am sorry I misjudged you so." Then she got up
from her chair, just as the tennis party came, laughing and talking,
out of the billiard-room door which led into the garden. "I must go
and look after my house," she added: "I haven't even ordered the
dinner yet. By the way, if you're duck-shooting, I suppose you will
all be late. I must ask Maurice."
The latter, looking very cool and supercilious, in white flannels,
was just advancing across the lawn. Aunt Mary went up to him, and
after a moment's conversation continued her way to the house.
Miss York waved her racquet at me. "We shall expect lots of
applause, Mr. Northcote," she said gaily. "You needn't bother to
clap if your wrist's bad, but you must cheer like anything."
"The tennis-court shall echo with it," I returned encouragingly.
Miss York laughed. "That's right," she said. "Here's Lady Baradell
coming to help you."
Even if I had wished to retreat, it would have been too late.
Graceful and beautifully dressed as ever, Lady Baradell was coming
across the garden towards the spot where I was sitting.
"You have made yourself comfortable, I see," she said, smiling.
"Oh, trust Northcote for that," put in Vane, with a chuckle, as he
hung up a wonderfully coloured blazer in the tree behind.
"You've got the best of it, anyway," added Maurice languidly. "I
think we are all mad to play tennis in this sun."
"Well, let's hope there will be some method in your madness," replied
Lady Baradell. "As spectators, we shall be very critical."
She sank down into the chair which Aunt Mary had lately vacated,
fanning herself slowly with a big palm-leaf which she was carrying in
her hand.
"Stuart," she said, when the others had taken their places in the
court, "I wonder what you think of me?"
"At the present moment," I said, "I think that you are the most
beautiful woman in Suffolk."
She laughed, looking up at me sideways out of her curious golden
eyes. "I think I was a little hysterical last night," she said
softly. "But you were rather cruel, Stuart, you know. There are
several ways of breaking bad news. Who is she?"
I hesitated a moment. "I wonder if you would believe me," I said,
"if I told you the truth."
"Game--love!" There came a triumphant cry from Miss York, as Vane
with misdirected energy sent a ball soaring into the kitchen garden.
"Game--love," repeated Lady Baradell, staring out over the lawn with
half-shut eyes. "Ah, yes, Stuart, I shall believe you."
I leaned forward and looked at her steadily. "In a month's time," I
said, "you will forgive me everything for the sake of last night."
There was a short silence. Then she answered in a low voice: "There
can be no question of forgiveness between you and me."
Even as she spoke, I saw the door of the billiard-room open, and Aunt
Mary, accompanied by a tall, grave-looking man in dark clothes, came
out on to the lawn.
Lady Baradell laughed gently. "My husband," she said, "has all the
virtues--even punctuality."