THE NEW RECTOR
When Ran entered the morning room, where he had left his friends, he
found them all there, but now gathered in a wide circle around the
glowing sea coal fire in the large open grate, listening to Longman, who
was giving a detailed account of his visit to the rectory and his
evening with his mother.
Ran drew a chair, sat down among them and made one of the audience.
When the speaker had finished his story Ran turned to him and said:
“Now, Longman, if you are ready you may tell me what you meant when you
said that you had something to report in reference to that undutiful son
of worthy John Legg,” said Ran.
“Yes, sir. He has taken ‘holy orders,’ the more effectually to serve the
devil, I fear. And he has been appointed by his brother-in-law to the
living of Haymore parish, worth six hundred pounds, besides the rectory
and glebe—all of which is in your gift, Mr. Hay.”
“Indeed! And who the mischief is the gentleman’s brother-in-law?”
demanded Ran.
“Who but the fraudulent claimant of Haymore? Gentleman Geff, or whatever
his real name may be?”
“Ah!” exclaimed Ran, drawing his breath hard. “The plot seems to
thicken! So the deceived wife of our Gentleman Geff, the young lady upon
whom we have all wasted so much sympathy, is really no other than the
pretty adventuress who left her father to seek her fortune! But I think
we heard of her as Lamia Leegh.”
“Well,” said Longman, “it would appear that when brother and sister left
honest John Legg, their shopkeeping father, they must have changed the
spelling of their names from plain Legg to mystic Leegh. The latter has
a more aristocratic sound, you know. At any rate, their name was Legg;
yet you heard of the girl as Leegh, and certainly the letter of the man
to Mr. Campbell was signed Leegh—Cassius Leegh.”
“What did the fellow write to Mr. Campbell about?”
“Oh, to warn him to leave the rectory, as he himself had been appointed
to the living and should enter upon his office in January, after which
he should not require the assistance of a curate.”
“Indeed!” again exclaimed Ran. “I think the fraudulent claimant is
giving away the Haymore patronage in a very reckless way!”
Longman laughed.
“Let us see now how the case stands. The plot thickens so fast that it
requires a little clearing. The Rev. Mr. Campbell was called to Haymore
to fill the pulpit of the late Dr. Orton during the absence of the
latter at Cannes, and remains in the office at a low salary until a
rector is appointed to the living. And my substitute, the fraudulent
claimant, has appointed his unworthy brother-in-law, who has warned the
good curate to leave. Have I stated the case correctly?”
“Quite so,” said Will Walling.
“Very well, then. And we expect the three worthies, Gentleman Geff, Miss
Legg and the Rev. Mr. Legg, calling themselves Mr. and Mrs. Randolph Hay
and the Rev. Cassius Leegh, all in full feather, here this evening! We
must be prepared for them. Gentleman Geff must be confronted with the
wife he deserted and the friend he assassinated. Oh, that Miss Legg
might be met by her forsaken father! That is barely possible if John
Legg should take the train for Chuxton immediately on the receipt of
Dandy’s telegram, and come with his wife! And the Rev. Mr. Leegh shall
be received by—the rector of Haymore! But that last item necessitates
prompt action. Longman, come into the library with me, will you?”
The hunter arose and followed Ran upstairs and into the library, where
they sat down at a table on which stood pen, ink and paper.
“Longman,” said Ran, “would it suit you to be gamekeeper of Haymore?”
“Why, Mr. Hay, it would make me the happiest man on earth! But I really
would not wish you to give me the place at another man’s expense.”
“Never fear; it will be at no man’s expense in the sense you mean. There
has been no gamekeeper at Haymore for a year past. The last one left to
seek his fortune in Australia, and no successor has yet been appointed.
The place is yours if you will have it. Indeed, you would please me much
by taking it.”
“Indeed, then, I will take it, sir, with many thanks,” exclaimed the
hunter warmly, his whole face glowing with the sincere delight he felt.
“Then that is settled. Get the keys from the bailiff and examine the
cottage and have it fitted up for yourself and your mother in the most
comfortable manner and send the bills to the bailiff.”
“I will, Mr. Hay. You have made me very happy, for my mother’s sake as
well as my own. We both owe you hearty thanks!”
“Don’t speak of thanks again, Longman. The man who saved my life can
never owe me thanks for anything that I may have the happiness of doing
for him. Now to speak of another matter. Will you kindly take a letter
for me to the Rev. Mr. Campbell?”
“Certainly, sir, with great pleasure.”
“Take a book, then, or amuse yourself in any way you please, while I
write it,” said Ran.
Longman arose and roamed about before the bookcases, reading the titles
of the imprisoned volumes until he was tired of the amusement. None of
the books attracted him. He was not a bookman.
“I have finished my letter now, Longman, if you are ready to take it,”
said Ran, folding and sealing the note in which he had invited Mr.
Campbell to come with his wife and daughter to dine with himself and
Mrs. Hay that evening and confer about the reverend gentleman’s
appointment to the living of Haymore.
“I am quite ready, sir,” said Longman, and he took the letter and put it
in his breast pocket and left the library.
He had scarcely gone when a footman entered and said:
“If you please, sir, the bailiff, Mr. Prowt, is here, asking to see
you.”
“Let him come in here,” said Ran with a smile.
A moment later the bailiff entered, took off his hat, bowed profoundly
to the young squire, and stood waiting.
“Take a seat, Mr. Prowt, if you please. You wished to see me, I am
told,” said Ran pleasantly, though hardly able to control the smile that
lurked in the corners of his eyes and lips.
“Yes, sir,” replied the bailiff, sitting down and placing his hat on the
floor between his feet.
“Well?” inquired Ran after an awkward pause.
“Well, squire, if there is anything amiss I hope you will excuse it. I
really did not expect you down last evening, and made no preparations to
meet you. I am told by the head groom that there was no carriage sent to
the station at Chuxton.”
“It does not matter in the least, Mr. Prowt,” said Ran with a boyish
twinkle in his eyes that he could not suppress.
“Oh, yes, begging your pardon, squire, but it matters very much. I wish
to set myself right with you, sir. I wish to tell you that it was all
the neglect and carelessness of them telegraph people in Chuxton not
forwarding your dispatch in time. You must, in course, sent it yesterday
morning to announce your arrival in the evening, but I never got it
until this blessed morning, when I thought that it was this evening you
were coming. And I did not know any better until I came over here and
stopped at the stable to tell Hobbs to be sure to send the chariot to
meet you. And he told me that you were already here—that you had arrived
last night. I don’t think I ever was so knocked over in my life. And no
one to meet you! And no ceremonies befitting the reception of the Squire
of Haymore and his bride!”
“It is all right. Don’t trouble yourself,” said Ran, now laughing
outright. “Come and dine with me this evening.”
Prowt stared for a moment before answering. Never in the memory of man
had a bailiff been invited to dine with a squire of Haymore. Then he
reflected that the young heir had been found in America, and that
America was a very democratic and republican part of the world, and that
would account for the free and easy ways of the new squire. Only the
bailiff was afraid Mr. Hay might be going to ask the butler and the head
groom to dine with him, also; and that the bailiff could not stand. If
he had never dined with the squire, neither had he ever dined with
butler or groom. While he hesitated, Ran, misunderstanding his
perplexity, said kindly:
“An informal dinner, Prowt. Only the clergyman and his wife and
daughter, my solicitor, my brother-in-law, two friends from America,
Mrs. Hay and myself.”
Prowt drew a deep sigh of relief.
“Thank you, sir,” he said. “You do me great honor. When shall I bring my
books for your examination?”
“Not this week, Prowt. This is Thursday. No business until Monday.”
“Just as you please, sir,” said the bailiff, picking up his hat and
rising.
And without more words he bowed himself out of the library.
Ran went downstairs and rejoined his friends in the morning room, and
entertained them with an account of his interview with the bailiff.
“My chief reason for asking him to dinner,” concluded the young man,
“was that he might be present this evening to assist us in receiving Mr.
and Mrs. Gentleman Geff and their esteemed brother and brother-in-law.”
At this moment the luncheon bell rang, and the whole party went across
the hall to the small dining-room.