A LEGACY.
[Illustration: Chapter V drop-cap A]
A year and a half before this story opens Gavon Keith had got his
captaincy in the North Essex Light Infantry, and just about the same
time he found himself in a serious scrape. In a moment of weakness he
had put himself absolutely in the power of Major Strause. Major
Strause was his senior officer. There was a young subaltern in the
regiment, of the name of Aylmer. Percy Aylmer had conceived a most
chivalrous and passionate attachment for Keith. Keith had been good to
him when he first joined, had put him up to the ropes, had been on
every occasion his warm friend, and the young fellow in consequence
gave the deepest devotion of his heart to Keith.
Now Percy Aylmer was second cousin to Major Strause. Both his parents
were dead, and he was possessed of large private means. He had no near
relations, and often boasted that he could do exactly what he liked
with the thousands which belonged to him. Major Strause was always
more or less in money difficulties. He was a man who both gambled and
drank. His character in the regiment was by no means without reproach.
It was whispered that he was quite capable of doing shady actions, and
although nothing absolutely to his discredit was known, he inspired
little trust, and had few friends. From the moment that Aylmer had
joined the North Essex Light Infantry it had been Major Strause's
intention to make use of him. His young cousin's money would help him
out of his many difficulties. He intended to make use of it, and
probably would have done so but for the influence of Gavon Keith.
Keith, upright himself, scrupulously honourable, straight as a die in
all his words and actions, read through the major, and in his own way
counteracted the influence which he tried to exert over Percy Aylmer.
Without saying much, Keith contrived that Aylmer should look at Strause
somewhat with his own eyes. And the consequence was that on many
occasions Strause's endeavours to get large sums of money from his
kinsman were foiled.
There came a day when Aylmer hastily appeared in Keith's quarters,
flung himself into a chair, and said,--
"Now what's to be done? Strause is evidently up a tree. He wants me
to lend him five thousand pounds. I have all but promised, but as you
have always been my best friend, I thought I would let you know."
Keith looked annoyed.
"Where is the use of talking?" he said. "You are aware of my opinion.
Strause is a confirmed gambler. Whatever you let him have he will lose
either on the turf or the Stock Exchange."
Keith had never said as much before, and he bit his lips with annoyance
when the words had passed them.
"Do you really think as badly of him as that?" asked Aylmer, in an
anxious tone.
"Yes," said Keith stoutly. "As I have spoken, I hold to it; I cannot
mince matters. Strause is not an honourable man, and the less you, my
dear boy, have to do with him the better. By-the-way, Aylmer, how old
are you?"
"I shall be two-and-twenty in a month," was Aylmer's reply.
"And on my next birthday I shall be twenty-nine. You must see what a
gulf of experience lies between us. Now, Aylmer, I like you."
"You are the best friend a young fellow ever had," was Aylmer's reply.
"And I don't want to see you going straight to the devil."
Aylmer fidgeted.
"You may or may not be right with regard to Strause," he said, after a
pause, "but one doesn't care to see one's kinsman in distress. Strause
says he will be obliged to leave the regiment if I don't help him."
"To the extent of five thousand pounds?" remarked Keith.
Aylmer was silent.
"I tell you what it is," remarked the older man suddenly. "You leave
me to see Strause over this matter."
"But he hates you, Keith," was Aylmer's naïve reply.
"All the same, I think I'll tackle him," said Keith. "Don't lend him
money, Aylmer. For any sake, be firm with him. Strause can be the
very devil if he once has a hold over a fellow."
Keith had cause to remember his own words later on, but at the time he
thought only of Aylmer and how best he could save him.
That evening Keith called upon Major Strause, and had, as he expressed
it, a straight talk with him. What one said to the other was never
known, but when Keith left his brother officer's quarters he was under
the impression that Aylmer was saved. This appeared to be the case.
Strause was still quite friendly to both men, and Aylmer soon
afterwards informed his friend that the loan of five thousand was no
longer required.
Some weeks went by, and one evening Aylmer casually mentioned that he
was making a fresh will.
"I made one soon after I joined," he said, "about three months after,
just when you prevented me from making an ass of myself at mess. Do
you remember?"
Keith smiled.
"Yes," he said. "I thought you one of the nicest boys I had ever seen
afterwards."
"Well, I made a will then, and--Keith, you must not be angry--I put you
into it."
"I wish you would make another, and leave me out," said Keith bluntly.
"That is just what Strause wants me to do."
"Oh," said Keith, altering his manner, "has Strause anything to do with
this?"
"A great deal. I went up to town yesterday to consult his lawyer."
"Why? have you not your own business man?"
"I have; but Strause thinks a great deal of Mr. Gust."
"And have you made a will and signed it?"
"There is a will being drawn up. I cannot tell you its contents; it
would not be fair, as you are one of those who will profit by it."
Keith sprang to his feet.
"Look here, Aylmer, old man," he said, "I have as much money as I need.
Don't put me in your will; strike that part out. I don't want a man to
leave his money away from his relatives."
"Well, then, Strause gets about everything. I am an only son of an
only son, and my mother had neither brothers nor sisters."
"You talk as though you were dropping into the grave," said Keith.
"All in good time you will marry and have children of your own. Don't
sign that will, if you take my advice. Strause is playing his cards
for his own ends. And now I will say no more."
A week after this Aylmer quite unexpectedly fell ill. At first it was
reported that he had taken a bad chill when out hunting, and would be
all right again in a few days. Then the doctor began to look grave,
and said something about sudden developments and possible danger.
Keith heard the news in the mess-room, and went straight to Aylmer's
quarters. He found the poor fellow tossing about, flushed and
miserable, with Strause in close attendance.
"Keith!" he cried, the moment Gavon Keith entered the room. "Oh, I am
glad to see you! So you have come at last!"
"At last!" cried Keith; "I only heard of your illness an hour ago."
"But I have been sending you note after note," said the poor young
fellow. "I wanted you so badly last night--yes, and the night before
too."
"I'll sit up with you to-night, Aylmer," said Strause.
"Oh, it was dreadful last night!" moaned the boy. "I was alone, and I
got so giddy, and thought for a moment that I was dying."
"Why has he not a proper nurse?" said Keith, turning sharply round and
facing Strause.
"He doesn't wish for a nurse, nor does the doctor think it necessary.
I am prepared to give up all my time to him."
"O Keith, do sit down; don't go quite yet," said Aylmer. His voice was
low and his breathing rapid.
Keith did sit down by the bedside. He perceived at a glance that
Aylmer's blue eyes were full of suppressed trouble, and resolved, if
possible, to see him when Strause was absent. Presently Aylmer gave
Keith a glance full of meaning, and the next moment looked in his
cousin's direction. Keith bit his lips with annoyance. Strause had
evidently no intention of leaving the room. To Keith's relief,
however, a moment later an orderly arrived with a message desiring
Strause to go to see the colonel immediately. Strause was obliged to
comply. The moment he did so Aylmer clutched Keith by the hand.
"Don't leave me alone with him," he said; "he frightens me. If I want
a nurse, he says he knows a woman who will come, and I shall be more in
his power than ever. Do you know, I have not signed the will. I would
rather the old will stood--I think I have remembered every one in
it--all the old servants, I mean. I made the sort of will when I first
joined that my father and mother would have liked had they been alive.
Keith, I am afraid of Strause. He is mad about this will. He is never
alone with me that he does not talk of it. It has arrived, and I have
only to sign it, and he will easily get witnesses. And he will _make
me do it_. I feel he will if he is alone with me. When you are ill
you get nervous in the middle of the night. Don't you understand,
Keith?"
"Yes, I understand," replied Keith, in that sympathetic voice which was
one of his greatest charms.
"O Keith," continued the boy, "I did not think I could be such an
arrant coward!"
"You are ill, and are therefore not responsible," replied Keith. "Now
listen, Aylmer. I mean to look after you to-night. I am off duty, and
if I cannot get Strause out of the room I will stay here too; so you
need not worry about that will, for you cannot sign it while I am here
to prevent you."
"No, that's right. What a relief it will be! God bless you, old chap!"
"Cheer up then, now, and go to sleep."
"You don't know how bad I feel, and what awful attacks of pain I get.
I have to be more or less under an opiate all the time. What is the
hour? Oh, I ought to have my medicine--not the opiate, but the other.
You will find two bottles on that table, Keith. Do you mind giving me
a dose of the one which is marked 'To be taken every two hours'?"
Keith crossed the room to a little table where some bottles were neatly
arranged. One was a little larger than the other. On one were the
simple directions that the medicine within was to be taken, two
tablespoonfuls at a time, every two hours. The other medicine was to
be taken only at the rate of a teaspoonful when the pain was very bad.
"I wish I might have a dose of the other medicine too," said Aylmer, in
his weak voice; "it dulls the pain and makes me drowsy. I hate this
stuff."
"The pain is not intolerable now, is it?" asked Keith.
"No; I feel much better--more confident, I mean--now that you have come
to me."
"I am going to see you through this bout, Aylmer," said Keith; "so rest
comfortable, old man. I won't desert you."
"The sound of your voice makes me feel ever so much better."
Keith arranged the sick boy's pillows. He then put the bottles back on
the table, and noticed that two doses had been taken from the larger
bottle, and that there was enough of the smaller one to last until the
next day.
"I wish the doctor would come," said Aylmer, after a pause. "I know by
my feelings that I am going to have another paroxysm of that awful
pain."
He had scarcely said the words before the doctor softly opened the room
door and entered. He was a clever young man, with all sorts of
up-to-date knowledge, he made a careful examination of the patient, and
the expression on his face was grave.
"He ought to have a trained nurse," he said.
"You must have one to-morrow, Aylmer," here interrupted
Keith.--"Perhaps, Dr. Armstrong, you will choose a nurse and send her
in."
"You ought to have a nurse to-night, Aylmer."
"Oh no, no; Keith has promised to look after me to-night."
"Yes, that I have," replied Keith; "and I know something of nursing,
too," he added.
"Don't go back on your word, Keith," said Aylmer again. "You will do
me more good than fifty nurses."
"I will certainly keep my promise," said Keith.--"But I should like to
have a word with you, Armstrong, in the other room."
The doctor and Keith went into the anteroom.
"It is a serious case," said Dr. Armstrong: "there is a good deal of
inflammation, and it is just possible that there may be a sudden
termination; but he has youth on his side. I am glad you are going to
stay with him for a bit. His nerves are very much out of order. I
believe there is something worrying him more than this illness."
"I give a guess to what it is," said Keith; "and I don't think at a
time like the present anything ought to be hidden from the doctor.
Now, Dr. Armstrong, without explaining matters too fully, I want you to
give me authority to forbid Major Strause to come to his cousin's
rooms. The fact is, Strause worries him--it is a money matter. I dare
not say any more. Aylmer ought not to be worried."
"I understood that young Aylmer was very rich," said Armstrong.
"So he is; but Strause is poor. Can you not take a hint?"
The doctor smiled.
"I'll have a talk with Strause," he said. "What you tell me explains
much. He must not come near his cousin's rooms until the morning."
"Have I your authority to keep him out?"
"You certainly have."
The doctor went away, and Keith returned to his charge. He was a very
tender-hearted, sympathetic fellow, and had much common-sense. He made
the sick-room as tidy as any woman would have done, and gave his
patient food and medicine at the prescribed intervals. The doctor
called again late in the evening, and said that Aylmer was going on
quite as well as could be expected. He had scarcely gone before
Strause appeared. Keith went to the door of the outer room and spoke
to him.
"You are not to come in," he said. "Aylmer must not be worried."
"Worried! I am his cousin," said Strause.
"I have the doctor's authority. I am in charge of the case under
Armstrong until the morning."
Strause's dull eyes flashed an ominous fire.
"I won't stay if I'm not wished for," he said, after a pause. He
raised his voice on purpose. "But I want just to say a word to Aylmer.
I shan't be two minutes." As he spoke, with a sudden movement he
pushed Keith aside and entered the anteroom. The next instant he was
in the sick-room. "I want to say something to my cousin alone," he
repeated. "I shan't worry him, and I shan't be long."
"Anything is better than making a fuss," thought Keith, and he went and
stood by the window of the sitting-room, trying to stay the impatience
which had possession of him. "I must turn Strause out if he stays too
long," thought the young man; "but anything would be better than
kicking up a row inside Aylmer's sick-room." He noticed, however, that
all was quiet in the room. He could not even hear the sound of voices.
Strause seemed to be moving about on tiptoe.
After a moment or two he came out.
"Aylmer is asleep," he said. "I didn't disturb him. What I have to
say must keep. You need not have been so chuff in your manner just
now, Keith. I am glad to hand over the case to you for to-night. You
are good-natured, and Aylmer is fond of you. I hope the poor boy will
pull through. What does the doctor say?"
"Armstrong says it is a critical case."
Strause's face looked grave.
"He is right," he replied, after a pause. "None of Aylmer's family are
sound. The father and mother died young. Well, poor chap, he has an
abundance of this world's pelf: it will be a pity if he does not live
to enjoy it. I will look round in the morning. Bye-bye for the
present."
Strause's manner was friendly, and Keith reproached himself for the
marked dislike he felt towards him. Presently he softly entered the
sickroom, and sat down. Aylmer was sleeping. He awoke presently, and
said in a drowsy tone,--
"My eyes hurt me; can you do without a candle in the room?"
"Certainly," replied Keith. "I will have a light in your sitting-room,
and the door between the two rooms can be open."
"I am better, I think," said Aylmer, after a pause. "Is it time for my
medicine?"
"Not for half an hour," replied Keith. "Go to sleep; I won't wake you
if you happen to be asleep. The doctor says it is not necessary."
Aylmer closed his eyes and lay still. In a few minutes he moved
fretfully, and said in a voice full of pain,--
"That horrible torture is beginning again. You must give me some of
the opiate."
Keith rose immediately, took the smaller bottle of medicine, went into
the anteroom, and poured out very carefully a teaspoonful, which he
brought to Aylmer. Aylmer took it and lay still. In about a quarter
of an hour he called out,---
"Keith, are you there?"
"Yes; what's up?"
"The pain is no better. It grows intolerable--I cannot endure it. I
must have a second dose at once. Make it a little larger--do, like a
good fellow--a dessertspoonful."
"I can't possibly do it, Aylmer. The doctor said that you were not to
have this special medicine oftener than once an hour, and it is not a
quarter of an hour since you had the last dose. You shall have a
second after an hour is up. Now stay quite still, and then perhaps the
pain will go off!"
Aylmer lay as still as he could, but the dew on his forehead and the
pallor of his drawn face showed the agony through which he was living.
His restless hands began plucking at the bed-clothes. Keith suddenly
took one, and imprisoned it in both his own.
"My mother used to say that I had the hand or a mesmerist," he said.
"Let me mesmerize you now. I will that pain goes."
Aylmer smiled. His blue eyes grew full of gratitude.
"There never was any one like you, Keith, old man," he said. "Whatever
happens, I'd like you to know--I'd like you to know what I feel--I mean
my gratitude to you. Keith, I believe I'd have gone to the dogs but
for you, old fellow. But now--"
"Don't talk, Aylmer; you have to live a long life and prove your words."
"Oh, this agony!" cried the poor boy. "Keith, I don't believe I'll
ever get better. Will you send for the doctor again? I know I am much
worse."
"I will give you your opiate again at the end of an hour," said Keith,
"and then, if you are not better, I will send for Armstrong. But,
remember, he expected these paroxysms at intervals. He thought you
going on nicely when he saw you at nine o'clock."
"I am worse now--much worse."
Keith suddenly rose.
"Why, it is time for your other medicine," he said; "perhaps you will
feel easier after you have taken it."
Keith now crossed the room to the little table, took up the larger
bottle, and went into the anteroom. He poured out a full dose of two
tablespoonfuls, and brought the medicine in a glass to Aylmer. Aylmer
drank it off, uttering a sigh as he did so.
"It doesn't taste quite the same," he said, "but--" His voice dropped
away into a drowsy monotone. "You were quite right," he remarked in a
minute: "the pain is dulled--I am beautifully sleepy. Don't disturb
me, please."
"Certainly not. Go to sleep now; I am close to you."
Keith sat for some time motionless by the sick man's side. He knew by
the gentle breathing that Aylmer had dropped into profound slumber.
Presently he moved into an arm-chair, stretched himself out, and closed
his eyes. Without intending it, he dropped off himself into sleep.
During that sleep he had terrified dreams that Aylmer was calling him,
and that Strause was preventing his going to him. At last he started
up, his heart beating very fast.
"Did you call, Aylmer?" he said in a low voice, and yet loud enough to
be heard in case the sick man was awake.
There was no reply. Startled by the stillness, Keith rose to his feet
and went to the bedside.
"He is sleeping very quietly indeed," thought Keith; "I cannot even
hear him breathe."
Then his own heart began to beat in an irregular, nervous fashion; a
cold fear took possession of him. He went into the anteroom, struck a
match, lit a candle, and brought it to the bedside. One glance showed
him that Aylmer was dead.
Such a sudden termination to a young life caused a good deal of
excitement in the regiment, and Keith was so knocked up that he was
unable to attend to his duties for a day or two. The doctor expressed
no surprise, however, at the sudden ending of the disease. A death
certificate was duly given, and a few days afterwards Major Strause
followed his young relative to his grave. The other officers of the
regiment also followed Aylmer to his last resting-place; but Keith was
still suffering from a queer, nervous seizure, which had come to him
when he had found his charge dead.
"I can never forgive myself for falling asleep as I did," was his
thought. "Perhaps if I had been wide awake and on the alert I might
have been able to give the poor fellow a stimulant, and so have saved
his life."
After his death Aylmer's will was read, and it was found that he had
left Gavon Keith ten thousand pounds. The rest of his money went to
different charities, with the exception of a few legacies to old
servants of his father's. Major Strause's name was not mentioned at
all. This was the will made by Aylmer when he had been three months in
the regiment. A few of his brother officers expressed surprise when
they heard that Keith had got so large a legacy. He was congratulated
on all sides, however, for he was a prime favourite.
A fortnight went past, and one afternoon Major Strause went to see
Keith. Keith was better, although he still looked pulled down, and his
face was white.
"Well," said Strause, "glad to see you looking more like yourself."
"Yes; I am pulling round at last," replied Keith. "I cannot think why
I gave way in this beastly fashion."
"It was a shock. No wonder," said Strause. "You know, of course, what
a lucky chap you are? Ten thousand pounds to the good! It is worth
having a small shock in such a cause."
Keith did not reply.
"Are you dumb, man?" said Strause, in some annoyance. "You have heard
of the legacy?"
"I have. I wish in all conscience that he had not done it."
"Gammon!" was Strause's rude remark.
Keith flushed, and walked to the window. He wished that Strause would
leave him. Strause, however, had no intention of doing so.
"There's something I want to say to you," he remarked now, pulling a
chair forward, dropping into it, and lowering his voice. "I did not
like to tell you before. At present the fact is known only to myself.
Whether it goes further remains with you."
"What do you mean?"
"I will explain. Keith, an ugly thing happened in connection with
Percy Aylmer's death."
Keith drew himself up very stiffly. He looked full at the major.
"I don't understand you," he said.
"You will soon, if you listen. Of course it was an accident, and a
deplorable one, but you, Keith, gave that poor lad the wrong medicine."
"Oh, horror!" cried Keith. He sprang to his feet. A terrible weakness
seized him; his head seemed to go round; he clutched a chair to keep
himself from falling. "What do you mean?" he added.
"What I say," answered Strause, who read these signs of agitation with
pleasure. "It happens that I am in a position to prove my words. You
know I was nursing Aylmer all day until you arrived and interfered.
Your interference was unwarrantable; but I say nothing of that. I had
been giving Aylmer his medicines, and happened to know exactly the
amount in each bottle. The alterative medicine, as it is called, had
just been renewed, but the bottle containing the opiate was more than
half full. The opiate was in the smaller bottle, as you know. The
alterative medicine was to be given in tablespoonfuls--two
tablespoonfuls to a dose. At the time I gave up my charge of Aylmer to
you there were in the larger bottle five doses, but the bottle which
contained the opiate was a little less than half full. Do you follow
me?"
"I hear you, but I cannot imagine what you are driving at."
"You will soon know. On the morning of the death you were terribly
agitated. I rushed off to the poor lad's quarters when I heard the
news, and found that you had left, saying that you would be round again
presently. I went to the table where the medicines stood, and casually
took up the bottle which contained the opiate. The moment I saw it I
opened my eyes. The bottle was very nearly empty! Even allowing for
your giving him a teaspoonful at a time, it was absolutely impossible
that he could have taken anything like the amount which was now gone.
I then looked at the other bottle, and found that only one teaspoonful
had been taken from it since you had charge of the case. You follow
me, don't you? In the bottle which contained the alterative medicine
there were still _four doses_; in the bottle which contained the opiate
there was not more than a _teaspoonful_ left. Beyond doubt what
happened was this: you gave Aylmer, quite by mistake, two
tablespoonfuls of the opiate--a dose which of course caused his death."
"You lie!" said Keith. "How dare you come to this room with that
trumped-up story? I did not make a mistake with regard to the
medicines. I was most careful, and I am prepared to swear in any court
that I took two tablespoonfuls of the alterative medicine, which was in
the larger bottle, and brought it to Aylmer between nine and ten
o'clock that night."
"Swear it, then," said Strause, in a contemptuous voice, with a sneer
on his lips, and a malicious light in his eyes which caused Keith to
recoil from him as though he were a serpent--"swear it, and go right
through with the whole thing. I have the bottles in my possession, and
although there are no witnesses on either side, believe me it will be
at best a nasty case for you. You were alone with the sick man--you
gave him a fatal dose of the wrong medicine--you were remembered in the
poor fellow's will to the somewhat unusual tune of ten thousand pounds.
My fine fellow, you are in my power. Even supposing the murder is
never brought home to you, your career as an officer in the North Essex
Light Infantry is over."
As Strause said the last words he left the room, swaggering out with
his usual gait.
Keith sank into a chair and pressed both his hands to his throbbing
temples. Was this true?