A CONSULTATION
A week later Bernard was seated in the sitting room on the first floor
of the castle looking out at the landscape. It was picturesque but
depressing. The sun had just set behind dark clouds, and the red glare
behind them looked like a fire in a grate. The marshes were covered with
white mist, and the arm of the sea that reached up to the castle walls
resembled a stream of blood. And over all the veil of night was falling
darker and darker. Even to a mind at ease the prospect would have been
cheerless, but to Bernard in his present low spirits it was positively
suicidal. He felt more miserable than he had ever done in his life.
While watching and waiting, he knew not for what, the sound of voices
was heard. As he started to his feet with that nervousness which had
increased of late, the door opened slowly and Mark Durham entered
smiling. Bernard with an ejaculation of surprise hastened towards him
with outstretched hands.
"My dear Mark, how unexpected and how jolly. I was just dying to see
someone. When did you arrive?"
"This very minute, and Mrs. Moon"--he turned to the door through which
could be seen the gigantic form of the ogress--"showed me up at once. I
have come for the night"--he raised his voice for the benefit of the
housekeeper--"on business connected with Lord Conniston's estate."
"Sir," said Mrs. Moon, peering in, "don't tell me as his lordship is
going to fight."
"No! no! Make yourself easy. He has left the army. Should he go to the
front it will be in a way more befitting his rank."
"And a relief it is to hear that," said Mrs. Moon, placing a large hand
on her ample bosom. "When Jerry, who is my grandson, wrote me his
lordship was a common soldier, I could have fainted, but what I thought
Victoria would bring me to with hot water like the spiteful imp of
darkness she is."
"Did Jerry write?" asked Durham, making a sign to Gore to be silent.
"Of course he did, and said as he had been turned out of his employment
for a--recognizing of his lordship--a thing I should never have thought
his lordship would have done, seeing he got my own flesh and blood,
which Jerry is, the situation."
"It was not for that reason, Mrs. Moon. Jerry told a lie if he wrote
that to you."
"Printed or speaking lies, he tells plenty," moaned the giantess. "Oh
dear me, so like his poor dear father, though I thumped him rarely when
I had the strength. But what's my Jerry, bad as he is and liar though he
be, a-doing of now? He may be starving in that nasty London, and a rare
child he was for tit-bits."
"I can tell you where he is, Mrs. Moon," broke in Bernard. "I have just
heard." He glanced towards the table wherein lay a letter. "He is a page
in the house of Miss Plantagenet at Hurseton."
"Deary me," said Mrs. Moon in mild surprise. "I do hope as he'll give
satisfaction, and pleased I am. I must tell Victoria, she being taken up
greatly with my Jerry, though both of them be but young."
Durham detained her. "No! Don't say a word to Victoria."
"And why not, sir?"
"If you do Jerry will lose his post," explained Durham. "Miss
Plantagenet has heard of Victoria, and she doesn't seem to be a good
companion for Jerry. Only on condition that Victoria has nothing to do
with Jerry will the boy be kept on. It is for this reason he has not
been over to see you."
"And him being so near and denying his own flesh and blood," wailed Mrs.
Moon, raising her large hands; "but Jerry was always bad. Well, I don't
want him to lose his place, so I'll hold my tongue, and right Miss
Plantagenet is, Victoria being a bad and wicked critter as I'd take my
Bible oath. If only another girl would stop here I'd give Victoria the
walking-ticket. But, bless you, the castle's that dismal and the----"
Here Durham interrupted impatiently. "Go and send up some tea, Mrs.
Moon, and hold your tongue about Jerry's whereabouts. If Victoria
learns, she may go over, and then Jerry would be dismissed."
"To the gallows," said the housekeeper, closing the door, "to which he
will assuredly go," she added, opening it again, "he taking after his
forebears, who were hanged for many evils. Tea did you say. Ah, well,
there's some comfort in tea," and muttering to herself the weak old
creature left the two gentlemen to themselves.
By this time Bernard had returned to the fire and was pushing forward a
chair for Durham. "I am glad to see you, Mark," said he, cordially. "But
why did you stop me speaking?"
"I didn't stop you, worse luck," said Durham, running his hand through
his curly hair. "I didn't want Mrs. Moon to know where Jerry was. I only
hope she will hold her tongue; but if she does tell Victoria, and she is
weak enough to babble a lot, Jerry will learn in a way I need not
describe that you are here."
Bernard saw that he had been foolish and bit his lip. "I should have
been silent," he said. "But the fact is, Mark, I didn't think of Jerry
being dangerous. Alice simply wrote saying that he had been engaged by
Miss Berengaria as a page, and that she would give me the details when
she came to-morrow."
"So like a woman," grumbled Durham, sitting down. "It would have been
better had she told you that Beryl had induced Miss Plantagenet to take
the boy as a page."
Bernard stared. "But she is on my side," he faltered.
"Of course she is, and for that reason she has taken the boy. I told her
to be civil to Beryl, so that I might learn what his game was. It is
better that we should keep all these people in sight. I have my eye on
Beryl, who haunts my office. Jane Riordan is in my employment. Miss
Randolph keeps watch on Mrs. Gilroy, and Miss Plantagenet will see that
Jerry--or Judas as Conniston calls him--does no mischief. If I can get
all the threads into my hands, Bernard, I'll soon be able to find a clue
likely to lead me to the central mystery of this labyrinth. And there's
no denying," added Durham, wrinkling his brows, "that the case is a
perplexing one."
"I understand about you and Miss Berengaria," said Bernard, nursing his
chin, "you are my friends; but Lucy. I have always had my doubts about
Lucy, and offended Conniston by saying so. He admires Lucy."
"Miss Randolph is entirely to be trusted," said the lawyer, decisively;
"she is your friend, and has broken off her engagement with Beryl. I
think he showed too plainly that he wanted to ruin you and----"
"Does he know that I am alive?" interrupted Gore, much perturbed.
"No! But I think he is suspicious. He has some rascally scheme in
his head or he would not have placed Judas in Miss Berengaria's
establishment; luckily, the old lady will watch the boy. However, as I
was saying, the engagement between Miss Randolph and Beryl is ended. She
told me that she had given him back the ring. She is quite on our side."
"Conniston will be glad," said Gore, smiling in a haggard sort of way;
"he admires Lucy."
"So do I. She's a charming girl, especially now that she has been
allowed to exert her individuality, which was crushed by Sir Simon. I
often wondered you did not fall in love with her, Bernard."
"Oh, we are like brother and sister," said Bernard, quietly, then he
sighed and started to his feet. "See here, Mark, I can't stand this sort
of thing any longer."
"What sort of thing?"
"This inaction. Here I am mouldering in this old castle, a prey to
apprehension, and letting other people do my work. Why shouldn't I come
to life and give myself up?"
"You can do that later, when we know more about the case than we do at
present. Don't be rash, Bernard."
Gore walked up and down the room. "The life will drive me mad," he said
impatiently. "Thank Heaven Alice comes to see me to-morrow."
"Why didn't she come before?"
"She would have done so had she thought it safe. Alice is as true as
steel. But with Beryl about the place--and he has called several times
on Miss Berengaria--she thought it best to postpone her visit. But
Conniston asked them both over to-morrow, and they are coming openly."
"So they told me," rejoined Durham, coolly, "and I particularly
impressed on them that they were not to bring that imp over. If he
learns you are here--" The lawyer paused.
"What will he do?"
"Sell you to the highest bidder. I think we can get the better of Beryl
there, though. We have the money and Beryl hasn't. Judas is in the
employment of Beryl so long as it pays him. But if I promise him a good
sum he'll hold his tongue whatever he learns. It's just as well, seeing
how rash you were telling his grandmother where he is to be found."
"I was foolish," admitted Gore, gloomily, "but I am so worried that I do
foolish things. Do you think there is any chance of getting at the
truth, Mark?"
"Here's the tea," said Durham, rising at the sound of a shuffle at the
door. "Let me have a cup, and then I'll tell you what I have
discovered."
"Anything important?" asked Gore, as the door opened.
"Very important. I have a clue."
It was Victoria, sharp and dark and vixenish as ever, who brought in the
tray. But Durham had spoken in low tones, so he did not think she had
heard. Besides, he was not so alarmed about her and Judas as he had
been. Both were venal, and at any cost their silence would have to be
purchased. It would be better for Bernard to lose half his estate than
remain a fugitive from justice. Victoria darted a suspicious glance at
Bernard, as from the air of mystery surrounding his stay at the castle
she thought he was, as she put it, "wanted for something." But she was
too clever, and, truth to say, too impotent to move without the
co-operation of Jerry Moon. Besides, beyond a mere suspicion, she had
nothing to go upon. Queerly enough, she had heard nothing of the murder,
but then Mrs. Moon kept her so close that Victoria rarely had an
opportunity of indulging her gossipping instincts, of which she had her
full share.
When she withdrew, Durham poured out two cups of tea and ate some toast.
Gore waited patiently enough, but there was a restless air about him
which showed that his patience was tried severely. At length Durham
satisfied his appetite, took the edge off it as it were, and then
returned to his seat.
"Bernard," he asked, poking the fire, "you never told me that Sir Simon
gave you a check for one thousand pounds?"
Gore started up with an exclamation. "What do you mean? I never received
such a large check as that in all my life."
"But your grandfather gave you one in September, payable to bearer."
"No. He certainly did not. You forget that we had quarrelled. From the
moment I left the Hall some months ago I never received a penny from
him. I lived, as you know, on what little money I inherited from my
father. You gave fifty pounds to me yourself."
"I went to the bank," said Durham, with an air of satisfaction, "and
asked if such a check had been presented, and by whom?"
"But how did you learn about this check?"
"Oh! I found it amongst Sir Simon's private papers when he died. It had
been honored and returned cancelled with the bank-book. I need not have
asked if it had been presented, as it had, and had also been paid. But I
wanted to examine the whole thing from the beginning. The teller--who
knows you--informed me that you presented the check about the beginning
of October, and that he paid you the money."
"It is utterly false!" cried Gore, violently.
"Keep your temper, old boy," said Durham, soothingly. "I know that as
well as you do. The man who presented the check was dressed as an
Imperial Yeoman. He told the teller he had enlisted, and the teller,
thinking he was you, wished him good luck."
"But, Mark," said Bernard, much perplexed, "this double of mine must be
extraordinarily like me, for the teller knows me well."
"There is a reason for the likeness!" The young man hesitated, wondering
if it would be right to tell his friend that Mrs. Gilroy claimed to be
the first wife of Walter Gore. On rapid reflection, he decided to say
nothing about the matter at present, knowing Bernard's violent temper.
He therefore confined himself to bare detail. "Mrs. Gilroy called at my
office," he said slowly, "to complain that the one hundred a year left
to her by Sir Simon was not enough."
"Oh, confound Mrs. Gilroy," said Gore, impatiently. "I want to know
about this check. This double who presented it must be the fellow who
masqueraded in the kitchen."
"And perhaps--who knows?--may have murdered Sir Simon."
"It's not unlikely. Mrs. Gilroy said she admitted someone like me--or,
as she thought, me--about ten, and----"
"We'll come to that presently. I examined Jane Riordan, who was courted
by this fellow apparently to get into the house. She described you
exactly, but when I showed her your likeness she noticed that the mole
on your chin was absent from the man who met her."
Bernard involuntarily put up his hand to touch the mole, which was
rather conspicuous. "The man had not this mark?" he asked.
"No. So the mole you used to curse at school, Bernard, may be the means
of saving your life. Also I got a letter from the girl in which this
fellow makes an appointment. Here it is."
Gore examined the letter thrown to him by Durham. "It's like my writing,
but it isn't," he said, staring. "In Heaven's name, Mark, what does it
all mean?"
"Conspiracy on the part of----"
"Julius Beryl," said Gore, breathlessly.
"I am not prepared to say that; but certainly on the part of Mrs.
Gilroy. While I was wondering who this double who copied even your
handwriting and called himself by your name could be, Mrs. Gilroy called
on the errand I told you of."
"Well? Well?"
"Don't be impatient, old chap. Well, she demanded more money, and she
gave it as her reason for claiming it that your father--" Durham
hesitated, wondering how to explain.
"Go on, please," said Gore. "I am on thorns."
"Do you want the truth?"
"Yes, I do. The whole truth."
"Will you promise to keep your temper?"
"Yes. I know I have a bad one, but----"
"Very good. Don't excuse yourself, Bernard. Well, Mrs. Gilroy claimed to
be the wife of your father, and----"
Gore started to his feet in a paroxysm of rage. "The wife of my father,"
he repeated. "Why, my mother is dead."
"She said your mother was not the wife of----"
"Oh!" Bernard sprang to his feet with blazing eyes. "Mark!"
The lawyer rose. "Keep your temper. I didn't intend to tell you, knowing
how you would receive the news."
"Does this woman dare to say that I am a--a----"
"Bernard, sit down," said Durham, and literally forced the impetuous boy
back into his chair. "Behave like a civilized being. Mrs. Gilroy claims
to be your father's first wife."
"But if she lives, and if what she says is true, my mother--I--oh--I
could kill this woman."
"Gore," said the lawyer, seriously, "don't talk like this; remember what
trouble you are now in owing to your former rash words."
"Yes! Yes!" Bernard struck his forehead hard. "I know--I am a fool. I
didn't mean--Mark!"--he started up despite the other's efforts to keep
him down--"do you believe this?"
"No," said Durham, promptly, "I don't. If Mrs. Gilroy was the real wife,
she would not have kept silent so long. But I think she was deceived by
a pretended marriage, and that Sir Simon, knowing this, helped her. I
always wondered what was the bond between them. Now I know. Your father
deceived the woman."
"But why do you think she had anything to do with my father at all,
Mark? The whole story may be trumped up."
"I am quite sure that her tale is true, save as to the marriage," was
Durham's reply. "I don't say that she might not have been deceived with
a pretended marriage, and that she thought all was right. But she is not
the real wife. Your mother, born Tolomeo is, and you are legitimately
Sir Bernard Gore."
"But your reason for thinking she speaks truly?"
"I will give one; a sufficient one. Mrs. Gilroy declared that her son,
Michael Gore--so she termed him--was the heir. She explained that there
could be no deception, as he is the image of his father."
"Oh!" Bernard started to his feet, seeing light. "And I am the image of
my father, as was always said. This man must be----"
"He is. I am sure of that. Michael, your half-brother, is the man
resembling you who masqueraded--probably at the instance of his mother.
I daresay he saw Sir Simon on that night, and was admitted by his
mother. Probably he insisted that he was the heir, and Sir Simon lost
his temper. Then he killed the old man, and----"
"And Mrs. Gilroy put the crime on to my shoulders. I see it all."
"I don't," said Durham, dryly. "I wish I did. For instance, I don't see
why you were brought to Crimea Square in the nick of time for Mrs.
Gilroy to accuse you. I don't understand about the Red Window either!"
Gore walked up and down the room much agitated. "Mark," he cried at
last, "I must come out and face this. I can't sit still here, knowing
that all this villainy is about."
"You must," insisted Mark, firmly. "Remember I am your lawyer and I will
look after your interests, to say nothing of Conniston, who has remained
in England for your sake. Wait, Bernard. In good time I will bring you
forward."
"But what will you do?"
"I shall see Mrs. Gilroy and question her again. She declared that her
son was in America when I accused him to her of having killed Sir Simon.
Now Michael undoubtedly presented this check at the beginning of
October. The murder took place at the end of the month, so Michael was
in England. When I place this fact before Mrs. Gilroy, she may give in
and confess."
"Confess what?"
"That you are innocent. Whether she will acknowledge that Michael, her
son, committed the crime I can't say. I'll see her to-morrow, and I left
word with Miss Randolph to-day that I would. The solution of the mystery
lies with Mrs. Gilroy."
"Where can her son be found?"
"That we must learn. I may be able to force her to speak. When we find
Michael you can reappear, and then the matter will be threshed out. Jane
will soon be able to distinguish between these Corsican Brothers.
Meantime, remain quietly here."
"I must! I must! And yet----"
"And yet you won't think I am doing my best for you."
"I do--you know I do, Mark. But, after all, my position is terrible."
"Don't make it worse by acting impulsively. I shall keep you advised of
all that goes on. When does Conniston return?"
"To-morrow, with Alice and Miss Berengaria. He went over to-day."
"I saw him there. I expect he will stop the night. Well, while he is
here with Miss Malleson and her aunt, I shall see Mrs. Gilroy."
"But if she refuses to speak," murmured Gore, anxiously.
"I have means to make her speak," said Durham, significantly.