PHOEBE IN PERIL.
After this breaking out of the sun in the dear home in Camden Town, with
respect to the money trouble, Aunt Leth's heart, as has been stated,
fainted within her when Mr. Beeminster, introducing himself, said that
he had called upon an inquiry of a serious nature. She mustered courage
to say: "Is it anything about a debt? Is it anything about my husband?"
Mr. Beeminster stared at her, and answered: "No, not that I am aware of.
The inquiry upon which I am engaged relates to Miss Farebrother--your
niece--and her father."
A sigh of relief escaped Aunt Leth's bosom, and Mr. Beeminster stared
the harder at her.
"Have you heard anything?" he asked. "Do you know what has occurred?"
"I do not understand you," she replied.
"Miss Farebrother has resided with you for--how long?"
"I cannot exactly say. For some time; since she left her father's house
and came to us. But why do you question me?"
"You are not compelled to answer. It may be that you have something to
conceal."
"I have nothing to conceal," said Aunt Leth indignantly.
"Or that, Miss Farebrother having got herself into trouble, it is your
wish to screen her."
"My niece has not got herself into trouble," said Aunt Leth, feeling
herself in a certain sense helpless in the hands of this man. "She is
not capable of doing anything wrong. I will answer any reasonable
questions you may put to me."
"It may be as well. Otherwise you might be suspected of a guilty
knowledge. Miss Farebrother left her father's house and came to reside
with you?"
"Yes; she has been in the habit of coming and stopping with us, from
time to time, since she was a child."
"But never for so long a time as this?"
"That is true. We have a deep love for her. Our home is hers."
"She ought to be grateful for it."
"She is."
"Her friends will best serve her by being open and frank."
"But what has our dear child done?" asked Aunt Leth, in an imploring
tone. "What has she done?"
"You will hear presently, if you have a little patience. On this last
occasion of her coming to you did she do so with her father's consent?"
"It is a family secret," replied Aunt Leth despairingly.
"It will tell against her if you refuse to answer. I am here in the
cause of justice."
"Of justice?"
"Yes, of justice. You refuse, then, to say whether she left her home in
Parksides with her father's consent?"
"I do not refuse. Her father was not kind to her; he turned her from his
house."
"Then when she came here they were not upon friendly terms. It is the
construction which every person would place upon it. Have you any
objection to say why he turned her from his house?"
"He wished to force her into a hateful marriage; she would not consent."
"Were you and her father upon friendly terms?"
"We were not."
"You harboured her, then, against his wish?"
"She had no other shelter. We have always regarded her as a child of our
own. Her mother was my sister."
"I know it. Since she has been living permanently with you has Miss
Farebrother heard from her father?"
"He wrote to her, but not in answer to any letter of hers."
"Did he not say in his communication that if she would obey him she
could return to Parksides?"
"Yes," said Aunt Leth, amazed at the extent of Mr. Beeminster's
knowledge, and in an agony of apprehension.
"Did Miss Farebrother reply to that letter?"
"No, she did not."
"I suppose that her conduct met with your approval? She would be guided
by you?"
"I endeavoured to guide her aright. Her father showed no love for her."
"But you may be prejudiced. Since your marriage there has been no love
lost between you and Miser Farebrother?"
"I cannot deny it."
"I beg your pardon; these are matters which, perhaps, I should not go
into. They will, no doubt, be investigated elsewhere. They are, however,
an evidence of prejudice. Did Miss Farebrother leave your house last
night?"
"She did."
"With your knowledge and consent?"
"We did not know of it until she was gone. She met our servant, and gave
her a message to us that she had gone to Parksides."
"Did you send after her?"
"We did."
"Who was your messenger?"
"A young man of the name of Barley."
"Barley!" said Mr. Beeminster, turning to his companion with a look of
intelligence. "Tom Barley?"
"Yes."
"There is a man of that name in the force."
"It is the same. He is a policeman."
"Ah! Did he obtain any information of her?"
"No. He could not remain long away. He had to return to his duty here in
London."
"So that he came back alone?"
"Yes."
"Miss Farebrother, however, came back?"
"Yes."
"She is in the house now?"
"She is."
"I believe she is not well?"
"She is very ill, and I am anxious to go to her."
"A little patience, please, and all will be cleared up. At what hour of
the night or morning did she come back?"
"At between nine and ten o'clock this morning."
"A strange hour for a young lady to come home. Had she been to
Parksides?"
"I do not know to a certainty."
"She has not told you?"
"No."
"Did she see her father?"
"I cannot say."
"You do not know? She has not told you?"
"She has not."
"Then if she went to Parksides and saw her father, she is concealing the
fact from you?" Aunt Leth did not reply. These cold, relentless
questions, with their strange and close adherence to fact, bewildered
her. "When she left this house last night she was in good health.
Contradict me if such is not the case, and in anything I may say which
is opposed to the truth. She was in good health at that time. She
returned this morning, sick and ill. Has she worn this veil lately?" He
produced it, and handed it to Aunt Leth.
"She wore it yesterday."
"She must have worn it when she went out last night. It was found in the
grounds of Parksides to-day. Therefore Miss Farebrother must have been
there. Do you recognize this brooch?"
He handed her the brooch he had shown to 'Melia Jane.
"It was given to my dear niece by her father's house-keeper."
"Mrs. Pamflett?"
"Yes."
"It was found in the grounds of Parksides to-day." Mr. Beeminster took
his companion aside and whispered a few words to him; the man nodded and
left the room. Aunt Leth heard him close the street door behind him.
"When, within your knowledge, did Miss Farebrother wear this brooch
last?"
"I cannot say positively; it is a long time since. I believe she did not
bring it away with her from Parksides when she left her father's house
to come to us."
"Can you swear to that?"
"No; but my niece will be able to tell you."
"I shall not ask her; it might be used in evidence against her."
"In evidence against her! For God's sake tell me what you are here for!
Do not keep me any longer in suspense!"
"Not for a moment longer. Miser Farebrother is dead."
"Dead!"
"Dead. Found murdered this morning in the grounds at Parksides. A cruel
murder. I have brought a copy of an evening paper with me containing the
information. It was just out as I came here. Would you like to read it?
But you do not seem in a fit state. I will read it to you."
Mr. Beeminster unfolded the paper and read:
"FRIGHTFUL MURDER.--A MYSTERIOUS CASE.
"This morning, at eleven o'clock, the discovery was made of a horrible
murder committed on a small estate known as Parksides, on the outskirts
of Beddington.
"For a number of years Parksides has been inhabited by a man who, from
some cause or other, was generally spoken of as Miser Farebrother. He
was a man, it is understood, of penurious habits, and the only servant
in the house was a house-keeper, Mrs. Pamflett. He had one child, a
daughter, who for some time past has not resided with him, but who found
a home with an aunt and uncle living in London. Mrs. Pamflett bore the
reputation of being an attentive and capable servant, and of faithfully
performing her duty. Like her master, however, she was not a favourite
in the village. The establishment altogether was not in good repute,
although the only charge that can be brought against the inmates is that
they did not court society, and kept themselves from their neighbours.
This remark does not apply to Miser Farebrother's daughter. She was
generally liked, and has been in the habit of going frequently to London
and paying long visits to her aunt and uncle. The only persons in
Parksides yesterday, until the afternoon, were Miser Farebrother and
Mrs. Pamflett, the house-keeper. Then the house-keeper was sent by her
master to the telegraph office with a message to his manager in London,
requesting him to come down to Parksides, presumably upon business. The
business conducted in London was a money-lending business, and--Miser
Farebrother being confined to his house by gout and rheumatism--the
confidential manager here was Mr. Jeremiah Pamflett, the son of the
house-keeper. Before the telegram could reach him in London Mr. Pamflett
was on his way to his master, having an important matter of business to
discuss with him. The business settled, Mr. Pamflett left for London.
"At about ten o'clock last night a man called at Parksides to see Miser
Farebrother, and being expected, was admitted to Miser Farebrother's
room. For the last three or four years this man has been in the habit of
paying periodical visits to Miser Farebrother: he always came at night,
and always departed after the house-keeper had retired to rest. This was
in accordance with her master's orders. Last night as usual she retired
to her room while her master and his visitor were closeted together.
Before seeking her rest, however, she paused outside the door of her
master's apartment, and inquired whether she could do anything for him.
He called out to her that he did not require anything further from her,
and that she was to go to bed. She obeyed him, and getting into bed, was
soon asleep. She describes herself as a sound sleeper, and difficult to
awake. It was strange, therefore, that she should awake in the middle of
the night, with an impression that some person had entered the house.
She looked at her watch; it was twenty minutes past one o'clock. Not
being satisfied with a mere impression, she left her room in her
night-dress and went down to the kitchen. There, to her surprise, she
saw Miser Farebrother's daughter. The house-keeper does not know how she
got into the house, nor for how long a time she had been there. Miss
Farebrother asked her angrily why she came down without being summoned,
and the house-keeper, in explanation, replied that she had been awakened
by a sound of some person moving in the house, and that she naturally
came down to see what it was. Still speaking in anger, Miss Farebrother
said that she was mistress there, and she ordered the house-keeper back
to her room. After this order there was no apparent reason why the
house-keeper should remain, and she retired from the kitchen and went to
bed again. As she left the kitchen she observed a large knife, with a
horn handle, which she frequently used for rough work, lying on the
table.
"As she lay in bed the house-keeper shortly afterward heard the voices
of two persons in altercation in the grounds, and she recognised the
voices of her master and his daughter. It seemed to her that they were
wrangling violently, but this was not an unusual occurrence when Miss
Farebrother was at Parksides. Miser Farebrother was, besides, a person
of eccentric habits. He was frequently in the habit of wandering through
his grounds in the middle of the night. The sounds grew fainter, as
though the miser and his daughter were walking away; or, as the
house-keeper explains, they may have entered the house and ceased their
dispute. However it was, she fell asleep again, and did not awake till
morning. Going down to her work, she found everything as she had left it
on the previous night, with the exception that the knife with the horn
handle was missing.
"Miser Farebrother usually rang for the house-keeper at nine o'clock in
the morning. On this morning, however, he did not summon her at the
accustomed time. Neither to this circumstance did she attach any
particular importance.
"When ten o'clock struck, however, the house-keeper felt it strange that
she did not hear her master's bell. She waited another half-hour, and
then she went to his room. She knocked, and received no answer. Then she
opened the door, and found that the room was empty, and that there was
no appearance of the bed having been slept in. Somewhat alarmed, but
still not suspecting the dreadful truth, she went to her young
mistress's room. That also was empty, and the bed had not been occupied.
"Her alarm increased. She searched the grounds for her master and
mistress. Her mistress she did not find. Her master she did. He was
lying upon the ground, at some distance from the house. Bending over
him, she was horrified by the discovery that he was dead--not only that
he was dead, but that he had been cruelly, ruthlessly murdered! A
dreadful wound was in his breast, and near him was the knife with the
horn handle, clotted with blood.
"She rushed into the village, and brought assistance back--a doctor and
a policeman, who were followed by two or three idlers. It needed only a
slight examination on the part of the doctor to prove that a frightful
murder had been committed.
"Here, for the present, the matter rests. The inquest will be held
to-morrow.
"Certain discoveries have already been made which it would be premature
here to refer to. The affair is in the hands of the police, who are
confident they will succeed in bringing the murderer to justice."
Aunt Leth listened to the account of the murder with a feeling of
unutterable horror. Quiet and observant, Mr. Beeminster carefully folded
the newspaper and put it into his pocket, saying as he did so:
"The 'certain discoveries' to which the newspaper reporter says it would
be premature to refer are Miss Farebrother's brooch and veil which were
picked up in the grounds."
"Gracious God!" cried Aunt Leth, with a pallid face and horror-struck
eyes. "You do not--you cannot suspect--"
"Best to say as little as possible," said Mr. Beeminster, rising.
"You brought a companion in with you," said Aunt Leth. "What was it you
whispered to him, and why did he go away?"
Mr. Beeminster was standing near the window, which faced the street. He
looked out, and Aunt Leth's eyes followed the direction of his. The man
she referred to was on the opposite side of the road, strolling a few
steps leisurely this way and that, but never too far to lose a clear
view of the house upon which his eyes were fixed.
"Have you placed him there to watch us?" asked Aunt Leth, faintly. "And
for what reason?"
"A murder has been committed," replied Mr. Beeminster. "Miss Farebrother
will most likely be served with a notice to attend the inquest
to-morrow."
"It will kill her! it will kill her!" cried Aunt Leth.
Mr. Beeminster, without replying, quietly left the room.