TWO SCENES
Could any member of the party gathered at Haymore Hall have been gifted
with clairvoyance, he or she might have witnessed in succession two
scenes on that morning of December the 15th, distant, indeed, in space,
but near in interest to the household.
The first scene was in a greengrocer’s shop in Holly Street, Medge.
A tall, spare, gray-haired and grave-looking man, of fifty years or
upward, stood behind his counter waiting for morning customers, for it
was still early.
A blue-coated telegraph boy hurried in, put a blue envelope in his hand,
and laid an open book on the counter, saying:
“A dispatch, Mr. Legg; please sign.”
The astonished John Legg, who had never received a telegram in the half
century of his whole life, and now feared that this one must herald some
well-merited misfortune to his unloving and undutiful but beloved son or
daughter, nervously scrawled his name in the boy’s book and tore open
the envelope and read:
“HAYMORE, CHUXTON, YORKSHIRE,
December 15, 18—.
“TO MR. JOHN LEGG, Medge, Hantz: I have just come from America; want
to see my niece; am not able to travel. Let her come to me
immediately. It will be to her advantage.
ANDREW QUIN.”
With a gasp of relief that this message was no herald of misfortune, but
rather possibly of good fortune, honest John hurried with it into the
back parlor, where his wife—a red-cheeked, blue-eyed, brown-haired,
buxom woman of forty or more—sat sewing, and said:
“Here, Juley! Read this! What does it mean? Who is Andrew Quin?”
And he thrust the dispatch into her hand.
Her eyes devoured it, and then she answered:
“Why, it is from my dear old Uncle Dandy. He went out to the gold fields
in California about twenty years ago, and we have never heard from him
since. And now he has just come back, and rich as Croesus, of course!
And I am the only relation he has in the whole world! And he wants to
see me. And he isn’t able to travel. And he may be at death’s door,
poor, dear old fellow. John Legg, when does the next northbound train
stop here?”
“Why, I believe there’s a parliamentary stops here at—let me see—nine
o’clock,” answered the greengrocer, slowly collecting his ideas, that
had been scattered by the intense excitement of his wife.
“Then we must go by it!” exclaimed Mrs. Legg, jumping to her feet and
beginning immediately to lock up cupboards and set back chairs.
“What!” cried John Legg, aghast at this impetuosity.
“We must go by it, or he may be dead before we get there, and his
hospital left to fortunes!” exclaimed Julia in such trepidation that she
reversed her words and never perceived that she did so, nor, in his
bewilderment, did John.
“But we haven’t half an hour to get ready in!” he pleaded.
“We must get ready in less time!” cried Mrs. Legg, turning to run up the
stairs that led from one corner of the back room.
“What’ll I do about the shop?” called John in dismay.
“Leave it to the boy a day or two,” replied Julia from the head of the
stairs.
“Everything will go to rack and ruin!” cried the greengrocer.
“John Legg!” demanded his wife, rushing down the stairs fully equipped
for the journey with bonnet and big shawl, an umbrella and bag in
hand—“do you mean for the sake of a paltry, two-penny-ha’-penny shop,
not worth fifty pounds, to risk an immense fortune, that will make you a
millionaire, or a silver or a gold king, or a brown answer (bonanza?),
or something of the sort?”
“‘A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush,’ my dear,” said the man.
“Jedehiah Judkins, come here and bring your master’s overcoat! And, Jed,
do you mind the shop well while we are gone, and get Widow Willet’s Bob
to come and help you, and I’ll pay him and give you half a sovereign if
we find all right when we come back Saturday night,” said Mrs. Legg.
The boy, who had just come in with his empty basket from delivering
vegetables about the town, hastened with big eyes into the back room to
obey his mistress’ orders.
John Legg submitted. He always did. Julia went about fastening doors and
windows, and lastly raking out and covering up the fire.
Then leaving only the key of the front door with “the boy,” the pair
left the house and hurried to the station, where they were just in time
to buy their tickets and jump into a second-class carriage. And before
John Legg had time to recover his routed and dispersed mental faculties
they were whirled halfway to London.
“You are the most energetic woman I ever saw in my life, Julia!” he
said, trying to understand the situation.
“Need to be when there is a brown answer fortune, and a silver kingdom,
if not a gold one, in the question—yes, and a dear, dying uncle, too!”
“I wonder if the boy will remember to take that celery to the vicarage
when the market gardener brings it this afternoon?”
“Oh, bother the celery, and the vicar, too! Think of the silver and gold
kingdom—and—yes, of course, the poor, dear, dying uncle!” said Julia.
And onward they flew northward toward Yorkshire, unconscious that they
were destined to take a part in a very memorable drama to be enacted at
Haymore Hall.
The other scene connected with the same drama, and which the clairvoyant
might have looked in upon, was the elegant private parlor at Langham’s
Hotel, where the counterfeit Mr. and Mrs. Randolph Hay and the Rev. Mr.
Cassius Leegh sat at an early breakfast.
The personal appearance of Gentleman Geff and his “lady” are familiar to
our readers. That of the Rev. Cassius Leegh may be described. He
resembled his sister. Nature had given him a very handsome form and
face, but sin had marred both.
On this morning both men looked bad; their faces were pallid, their eyes
red, their hands shaky, their voices husky, their nerves “shattered,”
their tempers—infernal!
Gentleman Geff had plunged into the gulf of dissipation to drown
remorse. And the last two months of lawless deviltry in the French
capital had made of him a mental and physical wreck.
His “reverend” brother-in-law was not far above him in the path that
leads down to perdition.
Mrs. Gentleman Geff was as well as serene, and as beautiful as it was
possible for her to be under her adverse circumstances.
But then, being the woman that she was, she had much to console her. She
had come from Paris enriched with Indian shawls, velvet and satin
dresses, laces and jewels which might have been the envy of a duchess.
She wore her traveling suit of navy-blue poplin, for they were to take
an early train for Yorkshire immediately after breakfast. She performed
her duties as hostess at breakfast with perfect self-possession, though
often under great provocation.
“When you are settled at the rectory you will, of course, bring down
Mrs. Leegh and the children. I am quite longing to make the acquaintance
of my sweet sister-in-law and her little ones,” said Lamia softly.
“I don’t know,” sulkily replied her brother. “It’s a bad time—in
midwinter—to move children from the mild climate of Somerset to the
severe one of York.”
“Look here!” angrily and despotically exclaimed Gentleman Geff. “I won’t
have it! You’ve got to bring ’em, climate or no climate, or you’re no
parson for my parish! It was well enough when you were rollicking and
carousing ’round Paris to leave your wife and kids with your
father-in-law in Somerset, but when you’re settled in Haymore rectory
you have got to have ’em with you. It would be deuced disreputable to
have you, the pastor of a parish, living in one place and your wife and
children in another. And I don’t want any reverend reprobates around me,
I can tell you that much!”
“You shall have no cause to complain, Mr. Hay,” replied Cassius Leegh,
controlling his temper and speaking coolly, though his blood was boiling
with rage at the insult, for which he would have liked to knock his
“patron” down.
“I think it is time to go.”
Gentleman Geff arose, muttering curses at all and sundry persons and
things, flung his pocketbook at Mr. Leegh and told him to go down to the
office and settle the bill and order a cab.
Half an hour later Gentleman Geff and his companions were seated in a
compartment of a first-class carriage, flying northward as fast as the
mail train could carry them.
My gentleman’s valet and my lady’s maid traveled by the second class of
the same train.
Gentleman Geff made himself as disagreeable to his fellow travelers as
shattered nerves and bad temper could drive him to be, and as the hours
passed he became so unendurable as to tax to the utmost the forbearance
of his victims, who rejoiced when the day of torture drew to a close and
their train steamed into the station at Chuxton and stopped.
They all go out and stood on the platform. The train started again and
steamed northward. Gentleman Geff looked around for his state carriage
and four. There was none visible. He began to curse and swear.
“Come into the waiting-room, dearest,” said Lamia sweetly. “No doubt
your carriage will be here in a few moments.”
“It should be here now, waiting. I’ll be —— ——!” (with a terrible oath)
“if I don’t discharge every —— —— of them as soon as I get to Haymore!”
he added as he led the way into the building and sat down, not to please
Lamia, but to rest himself, for bodily weakness was one other of the bad
effects of his intemperance.
There were but two other passengers besides Gentleman Geff’s party who
got out at Chuxton.
These were a middle-aged couple, who walked arm in arm to the Tawny Lion
Tavern, engaged the only carriage there, and drove on to Haymore Hall.
These were, of course, Mr. and Mrs. John Legg.
Gentleman Geff and his friends waited and waited, the maid or the valet
going out at intervals to see if the carriage from Haymore Hall had
come, or was coming, Gentleman Geff cursing and swearing freely in the
interim.
At last he burst out with a fearful oath, adding:
“We can’t wait here all night, Leegh—and be —— to you! Be off with
yourself to the Black Lion, or the Brown Bear, whatever the beastly
tavern is called, and see if you can get a fly.”
The Rev. Cassius, glad enough to get out of sight and hearing of his
worthy brother-in-law and patron, hurried off to the Tawny Lion, and
made such haste that he soon returned with the fly, which had already
taken Mr. and Mrs. John Legg to Haymore Hall and had just come back to
the inn.
With many threats, sealed by terrific oaths, of extirpation of all the
domestic establishment at the Hall, Gentleman Geff entered the carriage
with his party and drove off to meet Nemesis at Haymore Hall.