MAJOR REBB AT BAY.
But Mrs. Geary would not be silenced. Her meekness seemed to have
disappeared, and she faced the negro, as bold as any Amazon. "I shall
not hold my tongue, Adonis," she said, drawing a deep breath, "the
time has gone by when you could bully me. I have suffered enough at
your hands, and a fool I was to marry a black savage such as you are.
You----"
How long she would have gone on in that manner it is impossible to
say, for the pent-up anger of years appeared to break forth. However,
Gerald saw that people were coming out of their houses, and sauntering
in the direction of the inn. Unwilling that too much should be made
public--for obvious reasons--he pushed his way past Mrs. Geary and
into the house, commanding the two to follow him. They did so--the
woman willingly enough. But the negro hung back with a snarl and
evidently tried his old tricks on his wife. There was a scream as
Haskins entered the old sitting-room, which he had occupied with Tod,
and then the sounds of slapping and scuffling and swearing. Gerald
flung himself into an armchair, and looked towards the open door. It
was filled the next moment by Geary being thrust forward by his wife,
who had cuffed and thrashed him into a dazed silence. She literally
flung him into the room, and following herself closed and locked the
door. Standing before this, wrathful and gigantic, she pointed a
menacing finger at the black man.
"I was a fool to marry such a black savage as you are," she went on
from where she had left off. "You have been a beast and a tyrant and
have driven me to drink. The drink is in me now, and that is what
makes me so bold."
"Wait till the drink is out of you," breathed Geary, trying to assert
himself, and flashed an angry look in her direction. Formerly that
look had cowed the woman, but now she simply snapped her fingers in
his astonished face.
"It won't do, Adonis, it won't do. The worm has turned at last: you
have made me desperate. I'll have no more of these murders and
beatings and swearings. I am a Baptist myself, and you have nearly
ruined my soul. But now, you black dog, it is my turn. To-morrow I go
back to my mother at Barnstaple with my children. I can get work to
do, and earn money to keep them and myself. As for you, stay here with
your ill-gotten money for doing Major Rebb's dirty work. I could ruin
you; but I shall not do that. Still, the truth must be told to this
gentleman."
"What is that?" asked Gerald, sitting up, and expectant of what was
coming. He saw the truth in Mrs. Geary's fiery eyes.
"The truth is that Major Rebb murdered Bellaria."
"It isn't de troofth," muttered Geary, clenching his huge fists.
His wife taunted him. "Ah, you'd like to strike me, you animal," she
said, in a loud voice. "But do--do. I dare you. Never again: oh, never
again! I can die but once, and if you use your knife, I'll use my
teeth and my hands and my feet to fight you. Better death than more of
this dog life with you."
Her breast rose and fell stormily, and Gerald looked at her as amazed
as was her husband. Never before had the meek ogress behaved in this
fashion, although on several occasions she had tried to assert
herself. But having turned, she left no room for doubt as to what she
meant. Looking at the transformed woman, who had been goaded into
revolt, Haskins thought of Balzac's remark, which was now excellently
illustrated: "There is nothing more horrible than the rebellion of a
sheep."
"Wait; only wait."
It was Geary who spoke, but he spoke without conviction, since he felt
rather than saw that his rule was at an end. It is ever thus with
tyrants. They browbeat those who are willing to serve them, for many
years, and the milder the servant the greater burden does the master
impose. Mrs. Geary had labored like a horse, doing more than was
required of her. Still, the negro had not been pleased, and therefore
had beaten and kicked his beast of burden, never dreaming of any
revolt. But the measure was filled to the brim: the last straw had
stiffened the camel's back rather than broken it; and Mrs. Geary had
risen to assert the right of a human being. Adonis blustered and
threatened, but he knew that never again would his wife submit to his
domination.
"With your domestic affairs I have no need to meddle," said Gerald,
raising his hand to stop Mrs. Geary's speech and her husband's
growling. "I think you are right to leave that brute, and if you need
money I shall supply you with all you wish."
"Thank you, sir," said Mrs. Geary, dropping a curtsey; and glared at
her husband. The drink was dying out of her, but she still fought, as
she was supported by Haskins' presence. "You hear that, Adonis?"
"I'll go to law, sah," growled Geary, "you make my wife fight."
"You shall have more law than you bargain for," said Gerald coldly. "I
can promise you that. Go on, Mrs. Geary, tell your story."
She placed her big arms akimbo, and spoke steadily. "When Geary went
after you on that night, sir, I knew he was up to some deviltry, since
he almost stripped himself and used all the oil in the cruet stand to
rub over himself. I spoke to the Major--that is, I went in to speak to
him here, and ask what Geary was up to. But the Major was gone."
"Gone?" echoed Gerald. "Then he went immediately after I left?"
"Not exactly, sir. It was quite an hour after Adonis followed you that
I came in here. Then Adonis came back wounded, and I bound up his arm.
He asked if his old master was in, and when he heard that the Major
had gone out he followed."
"Followed where?"
"I followed to the Pixy's House," said Adonis hoarsely, "you may as
well know dat what I know, sah. I hab noting to do wid de murder. I
went ober de hills for de Major, and I found him coming back----"
"At what time was that?"
"After midnight," cried Mrs. Geary, "it was two o'clock before the
Major and Adonis returned."
"And Bellaria was murdered--according to the medical evidence--about
midnight," murmured Haskins. "So you went to the Pixy's House?"
"No, sah, I no go dere. I meet de Major coming back. He say dat he had
gone to see if you, sah, had been visitin' de house, after you went
from here. Den I tole him dat I tried to kill you, for I hear that you
wished to make trouble for de Major. De Major berry angry wid me, and
we come home. Den, in the morning, we hear ob de murder."
"Didn't the Major tell you that he had found Bellaria stabbed?"
"No, sah. Him say noting: I ask noting. Dat's all."
"If Major Rebb was in the Pixy's House at midnight, he either stabbed
Bellaria himself, or he knows who stabbed her," said Gerald
deliberately, and rose. "Is this all you have to tell me?"
"Dat all," growled the man sullenly. "But de Major did not kill.
Bellaria asked for my big knife, 'cause she was feared."
"Did you know what she feared?"
"No, sah. De Major, he know, but he no tell me."
There was nothing to be done but to wait and see Rebb, so as to
question him on this unexpected information, which Mrs. Geary had
forced her cowed husband to give. Haskins slipped a sovereign into the
woman's hand, and walked to the door. "If you follow me again to knife
me, Adonis," he remarked, "remember I have a revolver."
The negro pointed to his useless right arm. "I can do noting," he
said, and his eyes flashed as he added: "I should like to."
Mrs. Geary pushed past her husband. "No, you can do nothing with that
arm. It has beaten me often enough. Geary," she pointed a finger at
him, "now I leave your house with my children; this very moment I
leave. I shall never see you again."
"You have nowhere to go, you fool gal."
"I can tramp with the children to Leegarth and there a friend of mine
can put me up for the night. I have this sovereign the young gentleman
has given me, and to-morrow I take the train back to my mother."
"I think you are wise, Mrs. Geary," called back Gerald, and began his
return journey to Silbury, leaving the negro and his wife to settle
their private affairs as they best could. But he felt certain that
Mrs. Geary meant what she said, and would leave the Devon Maid at
once. She feared, now that she was more sober, and Gerald was gone,
lest she should again succumb to the tyranny of the negro.
The next morning Gerald received a letter from Tod, saying that he was
going with Arnold to Belldown, a village on the hither side of
Leegarth, and some ten miles distant. Haskins wondered why his friend
and the tutor should go to such a secluded place. Probably Tod had
found some evidence which took him there, for examination of the same.
But his letter was most unsatisfactory, as he gave no hint of what
Arnold had explained. Gerald felt somewhat in the dark. However, it
was useless to conjecture. When Macandrew had done what he wanted to
do at Belldown--whatever that might be--he would come to Silbury with
Mr. Arnold and explain himself. Meanwhile Gerald possessed his soul in
patience, and wished that Rebb would come down to the Pixy's House.
When he descended to breakfast, and Mrs. Jennings entered with her
budget of gossip, he learned that Major Rebb had driven through
Silbury early that morning on his way to Leegarth. "He came down by
the night train I hear, sir," said Mrs. Jennings.
Haskins was very well satisfied, as this arrival provided him with
work for the day. Apparently Rebb had seen Mrs. Crosbie on the
previous day, and had learned what took place from the widow, or her
mother. And it was possible that he had come to the Frederick Street
chambers to ask Haskins what he meant by meddling with the case. There
he would learn that the marplot--as he regarded Haskins--had gone on
to Devonshire, and so had come down post-haste by the next train he
could catch. All this argued a guilty conscience, and Gerald took his
way to Leegarth later in the morning to have it out with his enemy. It
occurred to him that Rebb was guilty after all.
The day was not so hot as the previous one had been, so Haskins walked
to Leegarth. He could have obtained a horse, or a bicycle, as on the
two former occasions, but preferred to use his legs. The country was
very beautiful, and the air most exhilarating, so he enjoyed the
journey, and arrived at Leegarth without unduly hurrying himself. When
he came in sight of the Pixy's House he felt in his hip pocket to make
sure that his revolver was safe. Rebb was a desperate man, and might
make an attack after the fashion of Geary; therefore it was as well to
be on the safe side. Thus ready for any emergency, he rang the bell at
the big gates, which were again closed and bolted. In less time than
he expected the gates were thrown open by the mild-faced valet of Rebb
whom Haskins had last seen in London.
"My master is expecting you, sir," said the valet, stepping back to
permit the visitor to enter, "in fact, sir, he came down here
immediately after you for an interview. I have been watching at the
gates all the morning."
"How did Major Rebb know that I was in Devonshire?" asked Gerald, and
received the expected reply--that Rebb had inquired at his Frederick
Street rooms. While following the valet up the narrow path, which
wound between saplings and jungly grasses, Gerald looked hard at him,
wondering if this man, like Geary, knew of Rebb's affairs. But the
mild face of the valet betrayed nothing. He looked like a sheep, and
probably was one. Major Rebb did not care for over-clever servants.
Probably he had learned a lesson when pensioning off Geary, who knew
far too much.
The old place looked very beautiful in the warm golden light, and
Gerald caught a glimpse of the lawn whereon Mavis had danced. He
sighed to think of what had happened since that wonderful night. A
gulf had opened between the girl and the world which could only be
bridged by an open confession by Rebb as to the truth of the murder.
But Haskins had very little time to cogitate, for the valet led him
swiftly through the archway, and into the house. He preceded the
visitor up a shallow staircase, and along a spacious passage on the
first floor. On knocking at a door, and being bidden to enter, he
introduced Gerald into a large room, with no less than five windows
looking out on to the tangled avenue and rough lawns and riotous
shrubberies. This was Mavis' apartment--as Gerald had been told,
when he came to see Inspector Morgan--and it was luxuriously
furnished, so as to be a pleasant prison for the unfortunate girl. Bad
as Rebb was, he had done his best to make Mavis' voluntary captivity
endurable--that is, it could be called voluntary, since the Major had
told her that all English girls were brought up in seclusion, and she
had acquiesced.
"How are you, Haskins?" said the Major, when his man had shut the door
and they were alone together in the splendid room. "I have been
expecting you."
"So I have been given to understand by your valet," replied Gerald
coolly, and sat down to take out his pipe. "You don't object to my
smoking, I presume?"
Rebb smiled grimly. "No," he rejoined deliberately, "you may need
soothing before our conversation ends."
"Dear me, that sounds threatening. Are you going to murder me, or drop
me into an oubliette. If so, I advise you to think twice about it. The
police at Silbury know that I am here. I told a young constable in the
High Street where I was going."
"I don't see why you should do that?" said Rebb sharply.
"I do," rejoined the young man calmly. "You are a dangerous man, Rebb,
and you are being driven into a corner. However, if you think to
silence me by violence, you will only get yourself into difficulties."
"You are afraid," taunted the Major sneeringly.
"Oh, not at all," retorted Haskins, although his fair face flushed a
trifle; "there is no question of that. The mere fact that I come here
alone is enough to prove that I do not fear you." He lighted his pipe
carefully and looked along the stem at his host. "Fire away."
Rebb sat down in a comfortable chair with his back to the window,
probably so that Haskins should not read his face too easily. He was
neatly dressed in a maroon-colored smoking-suit, and looked as spic
and span as though he had just stepped out of a band-box; but then
Rebb, being something of a lady-killer, had always been attentive to
his personal appearance. He suited the room very well, as he looked
high-bred and bland, and dangerously amiable.
"What do you wish me to say?" he asked quietly.
"That is for you to judge," answered Haskins lazily, but very
attentive to Rebb's slightest movement. "You say that you expected me.
Well, I presume that means you have something to say."
"You have called to see me without an invitation," retorted Rebb, "so
that shows you have a few questions to ask me."
"You are right--I have. But you are not hospitable, Rebb. I am dry
after that long walk from Silbury. What about beer?"
"Are you not afraid of my poisoning you?" asked the Major, rising and
going to a sideboard.
"Not at all; you would like to, so as to silence me for ever. Had I
come here without anyone knowing my whereabouts you would doubtless
try to get rid of me in some way or another. But the game in this case
is not worth the candle. The Pixy's House has a bad reputation for one
murder, Major, and I don't think you would care to have another
committed either by yourself or your tool, Geary."
"I did not set Geary on to you," snapped Rebb, discomposed by this
cool chatter, and returning to the central table with a tray.
"So I understand. Geary told me so last night."
"You have seen him?"
"Oh yes; and his wife also. She rather gave you away, Major, and I may
tell you that she has left her husband, having had enough of his
brutality. The children, I believe, are with her."
"I don't know what you mean about that woman having given me away,"
said the Major, trying to control himself, "there is nothing in my
life but what will bear inspection."
"Even by the law?"
"Even by the law. Will you have hock or claret?"
"Hock, please, and some seltzer. I congratulate you on your courageous
conscience, Major. Few people, even the best of us, can stand having
their secret lives looked into."
Rebb passed along a glass foaming with the drink, and shrugged his
shoulders as he took up the claret jug. "Did you come here to preach
platitudes?" he asked cynically.
Gerald took a long drink, and set down his glass with a laugh. "No. I
came to ask you where Mavis Durham is hiding."
"How should I know? She may be dead for all I can tell. And, indeed,"
added Rebb to himself, "I believe she is dead, else she would have
been discovered long ago. Have you any idea of her whereabouts?"
"If I had would I ask you?" fenced Gerald coolly. "I stopped on the
night of that poor girl's flight at the Prince's Head, as you will
find if you ask Mrs. Jennings.
"I have asked her already, and I know that."
"Ah! Then you _did_ suspect me of having a hand in the murder."
"I fancied that you might, since you loved Mavis, and wanted to get
her away from here. I hope you are satisfied with your work."
"With _my_ work. What do you mean?" Haskins sat up.
"Simply this, that nothing has gone right since you found that
infernal cylinder, and pryed into my private affairs." Rebb glared.
"If it was the old days of dueling, Haskins. I should call you out."
"I quite believe it. But as dueling days are past you will have to
silence me in another way."
"Why should I silence you?"
"Because, Rebb, I know too much. After I left you on that night at the
Devon Maid you came here, and----"
"I did not," interrupted Rebb fiercely.
"You came here. Mrs. Geary says so. And I believe from my soul that
you killed Bellaria, and put the blame on Mavis to secure her money."
Rebb started to his feet. "You infernal liar!" And he flung his glass
at the young man.