THE TURNING OF THE LANE
The proverb says that "Good luck comes to those who know how to wait."
It had certainly come to George Brendon, or, as he was now called,
George Vane. Lord Derrington could not make enough of him. After the
interview with Bawdsey the young man called at St. Giles Square and
related to his grandfather all he had learned. The old man was much
astonished.
"I don't think Ireland was to blame," he said, "not even in holding
his tongue. After all, the thing was an accident, although undoubtedly
that woman was the cause. Have you seen Ireland?"
"Not yet, but I will soon."
"Then tell him from me that I don't consider he was responsible, and
that I quite believe from what I know of Mrs. Jersey that he has told
the entire truth."
"I will, sir," answered George. "I suppose you mean that if he really
committed the crime with malice aforethought Mrs. Jersey would have
blackmailed him."
Lord Derrington nodded approvingly. "You are what the Scotch call
'quick in the uptake,' George. That is what I mean. Mrs. Jersey must
have been afraid for herself or she would never have kept her claws
off Ireland's money. She had plenty of mine," added the old gentleman,
grimly. "Bad lot, George!"
"I quite agree with you, sir. Poor Bawdsey was honest, however."
"Well--" Lord Derrington did not assent immediately to this--"if
Bawdsey had been really honest he would have asked me to be silent on
the matter, and need not have used threats, however unwilling he was
to carry them out. No, George, Bawdsey is like the serpent in the
bamboo, straight so long as it is kept in check. I suppose he will
marry the girl?"
"I think so. He is madly in love with her. I promised that you would
give him a thousand pounds if he went to America."
"The deuce you did!" said Derrington, wrathfully.
"Why not, sir?" rejoined Brendon, calmly. "We want him out of our
lives. He knows too much. Better send him abroad, so that he may not
make any remark about this unpleasant family history."
Lord Derrington winced. George certainly had rather an unpleasant way
of putting things. However, the old man silently acknowledged the
justice of the speech. "You are right," he said. "But Bawdsey ought to
do something for his money."
"You mean that he ought to discover the assassin?"
"Yes, I do. Whosoever killed that woman should be brought to justice,
George."
Brendon looked down. "I think it will be best to let sleeping dogs
lie, sir," he said significantly.
"Because of some scandal," said Derrington, looking hard at him. "Are
you alluding to the possibility of Mrs. Ward having killed her?"
At this supposition George laughed right out. "No, sir. I don't think
Mrs. Ward would go so far as that."
"She would, were there no law to restrain her."
"I dare say. She has the instincts of a female despot. But as there is
a law she would not jeopardize her neck. No, I mean Ireland."
Derrington sat up. "Nonsense! Do you mean to say he is guilty?"
"I don't think so, but Bawdsey has an idea," and George related the
theory of the detective. Derrington grunted in a disgusted manner.
"The man's a born idiot," he said. "Why should Ireland run the risk of
getting his neck into a noose for a second crime? If he thought that
she would leave a confession behind inculpating him, he would have
waited to make certain. I don't believe there is a word of truth in
the matter. However, when you see him, you can question him about his
doings on that night."
"I shall certainly do that," replied Brendon, quietly, "but failing
Ireland (and his guilt is presumed by Bawdsey) there remains Margery."
"That idiot of a girl! Yes?"
George detailed his reasons for believing in Margery's guilt. Again
Derrington sniffed. "It's all supposition. If the girl came into the
room, if the stiletto were on the table, if Mrs. Jersey scolded her
into a fury. Pah! I don't believe it."
"And you really wish to find the assassin?"
"I should like to know, out of mere curiosity. But if it is your
opinion that things should be left as they are, why, Bawdsey can take
his thousand pounds and sail for America whenever he chooses. But I
grudge setting the rascal up in business," added Derrington who was
still sore about the way in which he had been threatened.
After this conversation George took his leave. Dorothy was out of
town, so he could not visit her. After the interview with Ireland in
Derrington's library, Mrs. Ward had found it convenient to go down the
country. She felt that she was in an unpleasant position. Not that
there was any danger of her being accused of murdering Vane. But if
the police got hold of the story they might make inquiries--in fact,
they certainly would make inquiries--and then the disagreeable fact
would come out that Miss Bull was her sister. Mrs. Ward knew that she
had not behaved well to Jenny, and that if the truth were known her
friends would blame her.
As Mrs. Ward did not like blame, and disliked to have her actions
criticised, she went down the country, saying to Dorothy she desired a
change of air. Lord Derrington wrote a note to Mrs. Ward after George
had departed.
"I'll ask her to come up," said Derrington, grimly, as he sealed the
letter. "George will return in three days with the copy of the
marriage certificate and with news of how that case has been disposed
of. Mrs. Ward shall apologize to him and formally consent to the
marriage. Dorothy shall come also. And Walter"--Derrington rubbed his
hands, chuckling. He was rather anxious to see Walter's face when he
heard that he was no longer the heir.
Meantime George went with Kowlaski and Bawdsey to Chelmsford to see
after Lola. Kowlaski was in despair, as if Lola received a term of
imprisonment his ballet would be brought to an untimely end. Now that
Lola was out of the bill, the hall was not so full as usual, and
Kowlaski foresaw that if Lola did not come back he would lose money.
He therefore went down prepared to spend a large sum to set her free.
But there was no need for fear. Lola was brought up before the
magistrates, and evidence was given as to her excitable nature. The
old sexton produced the torn register and detailed how he had been
assaulted. He thought the lady was queer, himself. Kowlaski went into
the box, also Bawdsey and George. The result of their evidence as to
Lola's foreign ways was that the magistrate admonished her and
inflicted a small fine. This was triumphantly paid by Kowlaski, who
returned to town with his principal dancer under his jealous eye.
More than that, Kowlaski made quite a story out of the events. It was
known in London that Lola Velez had been arrested, as all the London
papers copied the account of the trial which had appeared in the
country press. Kowlaski put it about that Lola had gone off her head
owing to grief for her dying mother. Few people believed this, but the
public was so pleased to see the favorite again that she was saluted
with cheers. In a few days every one forgot about the matter, which,
after all, did not amount to much.
Luckily it was not stated why Lola had wished to destroy the register.
There were several marriage entries on the page, and no one could say
which of these she wished obliterated. Besides, Brendon got the
magistrate to suppress the book, and not let the press report the
matter. He accomplished this by telling the magistrate exactly how the
matter stood. So the judicial authority used his power, and the fourth
estate quailed. Everything was settled in a most satisfactory manner.
Later on Brendon had copies made of the marriage entry of Percy Vane,
Bachelor, and Rosina Lockwood, Spinster, and brought them to his
grandfather. The old man read them carefully, then laid down the paper
with a sigh of relief.
"I never thought I would be pleased to see that in black and white,"
he said.
"And are you pleased now?"
"Of course I am. You are to revive the glories of the Derrington Vane
family. They have faded of late, but you, sir----" He clapped his
grandson on the back, and George laughed at the old man's enthusiasm.
"There is one strange thing," he said after a pause. "Seeing that my
parents were married so near London I cannot understand how the
marriage was not discovered before."
Derrington looked thoughtful also. "It is strange," he admitted, "but
you remember the tale of Poe's Purloined Letter. People always look in
the most unlikely places first, and because the church was so near to
town and nobody had replied to the advertisement, they--the searchers,
I mean--must have thought that the marriage took place in some
moorland parish where people never looked at the journals. It was the
very closeness of Wargrove church to London, George, that prevented
the certificate being discovered sooner."
"I suppose you are right," said Brendon, "but it does seem strange."
"Everything in life is strange," said Derrington, "and not the least
strange thing is that I kick out Walter to make room for you. By the
way, George, he will be here soon."
"Have you told him?"
"Yes, and he wants to see you about the matter. I said that he could
in my presence. What he has to say I don't know. There is another
reason for your remaining, George. Mrs. Ward and her daughter are
coming here."
"She won't be pleased to see me," said Brendon.
"Oh, I think she will. After Ireland put her in a corner she grew
afraid, and now she would like to see the matter settled at any price.
When she is your mother-in-law, George, keep her out of your house or
there will be trouble."
"You must stand sentinel, sir. She won't come near me then."
"Egad, that's true. She is afraid of me. I hold that stiletto, you
see, and I know about her doings at San Remo. The minx!" said
Derrington with great vigor. "I wonder that her daughter is so
charming."
"So good, you mean," said George, fondly, whereat Derrington gave a
sigh.
"Oh, love--love, and again--love," said he. "It seems I am going to
have a most sentimental time with you two."
"Be at rest, sir. Neither Dorothy nor I am sentimental. We are too
serious for that."
"That's worse. I hate serious lovers."
"Then we will be gay," said George, with a laugh.
"Don't overdo it," replied Derrington, with a kindly smile; "be as you
are, both of you, and I shall not complain. Ah, here is Walter! Well,
my boy, have you come to see your new cousin?"
Walter Vane entered the library with an injured air. He looked neater
and more fragile than ever, and wonderfully old, considering his
years. Derrington looked from him to the fine figure of George, with a
queer look in his eyes. "No one would ever take you for relatives," he
said.
"Why, they say we are like one another," said Walter. "Mrs. Ward
remarked on the likeness when we dined with her. I wondered why we
should resemble one another, but it is explained now," and Walter cast
a not unkindly look in his cousin's direction.
Derrington snarled. "George is like me, and you take after your
father, Walter, who was a shrimp if ever there was one."
George hastened to the rescue of his cousin. "It seems to me that the
conversation is getting somewhat personal," he remarked. "Walter, I
hope you bear me no grudge for stepping into your shoes."
Walter took the hand in his own limp grasp. "Well, of course it is
hard on a fellow," he answered in a rather whining manner, "but you
and I got on well together, so I would rather it was you than another
fellow. That Train friend of yours, for instance. He's such a cad!"
"But a very good fellow for all that," said Brendon, dryly.
"Oh, people always say that of a fellow who has nothing to recommend
him," retorted Walter; "but as you are to be the head of the family I
am glad you are not a bounder."
"That's very kind of you," said George, dryly.
"And very silly of Walter," growled the grandfather. "What do you
mean, sir, by talking rubbish? Is it likely that any one of my blood
would be what you call a bounder?"
"No," said Walter, pacifying the old man. "I only mean----"
"Never mind what you mean. It's sure to be something foolish. This,"
said Derrington, pointing with his cane to George, "is the future head
of our family. Pay him all respect."
"We'll get on capitally," said George, clapping Walter on the back.
"And what about my income?" asked Walter.
"You will have what you have now," said Derrington; "don't bother me
about the matter. You and George can settle it between you."
Considering how he had been ousted, Walter really took things very
calmly. But he had not enough vigor to protest. He sighed. His
grandfather had cowed him, and Walter profoundly admired his newly
found cousin, who did not hesitate to stand up to the despot. He began
to think it was a good thing that George had come into the family. He
would at least save him--Walter--from constant bullying. This
interesting family council was interrupted by the entrance of Mrs.
Ward, as pert and pretty as ever. She had quite recovered her spirits,
and knowing that Derrington would say nothing about the card-cheating
or about the San Remo matter, she was prepared to be as insolent as
she dared. But she was quite determined not to cross swords again with
the old man. Like a burnt child she dreaded the fire. Derrington was
altogether too much, even for her.
As it was, she came sailing in with the prettiest air in the world,
and held out both hands, her head on one side like a sick canary. "My
dear Lord Derrington, how well you are looking! How"--here her
astonished eyes fell on George. "You!" said Mrs. Ward, aghast. "Mr.
Brendon! and here!"
"Not Mr. Brendon," said Derrington enjoying her confusion, "but my
grandson, George Vane."
Dorothy, who had remained below to give some instructions to the
footman, entered the room just in time to hear this announcement. She
flew to her lover. "My dearest George, I am glad, glad, so glad," and
before them all she kissed him. Mrs. Ward screamed:
"Dorothy! What manners!"
"Very good manners," said Derrington, coolly, "seeing that they are
natural. Well, Mrs. Ward, George--my grandson, and heir," added the
old man with emphasis, "has something to say to you."
"Really. I shall be most happy to hear it."
George took his cue. "I have to ask you for the hand of your daughter
Dorothy," he said, looking very proud and manly as he stood with the
girl's hand within his own.
"Really," said Mrs. Ward again, "I don't know. I fancied that Walter,
you see----" And she cast her eyes on the neat little man.
"Oh, I scratch," said Walter, in his elegant way. "There's no fighting
against George. He has all the luck."
"You call him George?"
"Why shouldn't I? He's my cousin; the head of the house----"
"When I go to my long home," finished Derrington. "Well, Mrs. Ward, do
you consent to the match?"
"Do, mother," said Dorothy, imploringly.
Mrs. Ward sank into a chair and pretended to be overcome by emotion.
In fact, she did this merely to gain time, as she did not wish to
answer too quickly. It was plain that Walter, whom she had wished
Dorothy to marry, took, in her own phraseology, "a back seat." George
was promoted _vice_ Walter resigned. George would be Lord Derrington and
would have the money. He was an obstinate man, certainly, and would be
difficult to manage.
Still, she might be able to get the better of him. She could always
work him through Dorothy, if Dorothy would only get over her absurd
notions of religion and all that sort of thing. On the whole Mrs. Ward
thought it was best to agree. Knowing what Derrington knew, and how
obstinate both lovers were, she did not see very well what else she
could do. However, she made the most of her compulsory surrender.
After a few sighs, and having squeezed a few tears, she cried to her
daughter, in a muffled voice, expressive of deep emotion, "Dorothy, my
dear child."
Dorothy, with a look at George, went and knelt down by her mother's
chair. She was not the dupe of this play-acting, but, knowing that her
mother would insist on making an effective scene, wished to get it
over as speedily as possible.
Mrs. Ward put her hand on Dorothy's shoulder in a maternal manner. "Do
you love George?" she asked.
"Yes," said Dorothy, simply, "you know I love him."
"George, do you love my child?"
"I do," replied George, curtly, while Derrington surveyed this
touching scene with a grim smile. He always loved to watch the antics
of Mrs. Ward. She believed in them so thoroughly herself, and they
deceived no one gifted with ordinary intelligence.
"It is hard," said Mrs. Ward with a deep sigh, "to see a child leave
its parent. But you love her, you have won her;" here she rose, and
raising Dorothy from her knees gave her to George. "Take her, George,
and with her take a mother's blessing."
The idea of Mrs. Ward's blessing was too much for Walter, and he went
off into a shriek of laughter, which ended in his leaving the room.
George was quite unmoved. He thanked Mrs. Ward and kissed Dorothy.
Then he took her to a distant seat near the window, where they could
talk sensibly. Lord Derrington was left to console the afflicted
mother. This he proceeded to do immediately.
"Egad, you did it well!" he said, looking at the pretty woman. "I
don't believe Miss Terry or Mrs. Siddons could have done it better."
Mrs. Ward flushed a little, but still kept up the pose. "Nature spoke,
my dear Lord Derrington. I am aware that you consider Nature vulgar."
"I was not aware that I did. I see so little of it, that your scene
touched me--positively touched me."
Mrs. Ward saw that it was useless to hide the truth from this
keen-eyed old man any longer. "Oh, don't be nasty," she said
plaintively, and rustled up to him. "Of course, I wanted Dorothy to
marry Walter, but George does just as well."
"I don't think she has made a bad exchange, Mrs. Ward."
"He's good-looking enough," said the little woman, "but so serious and
dull. Of course, I suppose you'll allow him an income."
"He shall have all that is necessary to keep up his position as my
heir," said Derrington dryly. "I hope he and Dorothy will live here.
The house is big enough."
"And they won't have to pay any rent, which is always a consideration,
isn't it? Oh, I hope dear Dorothy will be happy. I shall see much of
her--much of my darling child."
"No," said Derrington, thinking it just as well to nip these plans in
the bud, "you care very little about Dorothy, and you don't like
George. When they are married you must stop away as much as is
consistent with your feelings."
"I'll do what I like," said Mrs. Ward, beginning to tap her foot.
"No, I don't think you will. You threatened me in this room."
"I was only playing a game," protested Mrs. Ward.
"Well, I can play a game also. Mrs. Jersey has left behind her a
confession in which she details how you managed to cheat your sister,
Miss Bull. If you don't leave that couple severely alone I shall show
the confession to Dorothy."
"You would never be so cruel."
"Oh, yes, I would," replied Derrington, who had not the slightest
intention of fulfilling his threat.
"I never did anything to my sister. Mrs. Jersey tells lies----"
Derrington made a gesture of disgust. "There--there," he said, "what
is the use of talking further? Things are settled. When Dorothy and
George are married I'll see what I can do for you."
Mrs. Ward's face became wreathed with smiles. She was such a
frivolous, heartless little woman that she could change from one mood
to another with wonderful rapidity. "Oh, thank you, dear Lord
Derrington," she said artlessly, and pressing his arm. "I know you are
the most generous of men. But I really can't stop talking here all
day." She rustled over to Dorothy. "My darling, I must go and do some
shopping. No, you can stay here. I will call again in an hour.
George," she presented her cheek, "you can kiss your mother-in-law."
George did so, delicately, so as not to spoil the tint of the cheek.
Mrs. Ward departed. "He's like a block of wood," she said to herself;
"never did a man kiss me so coldly before. Ugh! The bear!"