A TRYING POSITION.
[Illustration: Chapter VI drop-cap W]
When he had first got over his start of dismay, Gavon Keith's impulse
was to defy Strause. He fully believed that the story was invented by
Strause for his own purpose, and that poor Aylmer had not been given
the wrong medicine. For what ends Strause should bring such a horrible
accusation against him Keith could not at that moment guess. He
thought matters over, however, with all the common-sense of which he
was capable; and that evening, although he still felt weak and giddy,
he went to see Major Strause at his quarters, and found that officer
within.
"Ah," said Strause, "I thought you might call round. Well, what do you
intend to do?"
"Nothing," replied Keith.
"You sit down under the accusation?"
Keith turned first red, then white.
"I do nothing of the sort," he said. "I deny your charge absolutely.
I did not give the wrong medicine. I was particularly careful with
regard to the medicines. It is true that poor Aylmer disliked the
light--I therefore kept his sick-room in comparative darkness; but on
the two occasions when I gave him medicines on that fatal night I took
the bottles into the sitting-room. Between ten and eleven o'clock, as
he was in considerable pain, I gave him a teaspoonful of the opiate. I
distinctly recall the bottle and the words, 'One teaspoonful per dose.'
He took it, and said it did him no good. He wanted me to give him a
larger dose. This I refused. Soon afterwards the hour arrived when he
was to take the other medicine. I took that bottle also into the
sitting-room, and by the light from a gas jet poured out two
tablespoonfuls--no more and no less. I brought the medicine back with
me, and he drank it off. He seemed to find relief as he did so, and
dropped off asleep immediately. What are you sneering at?"
"You give yourself away so splendidly," said Strause. "Aylmer would
naturally feel relief from such a powerful opiate as you administered."
"I did not administer the opiate. I gave him two tablespoonfuls from
the other bottle. It is, I suppose, within the region of possibility
that the medicines may have been shifted into wrong bottles. For that
I am not responsible. You will recollect, perhaps, the fact that you
visited Aylmer in his room soon after nine o'clock that evening. You
were there for a couple of minutes, and came out afterwards, telling me
that he was asleep. I noted that you were quite two minutes in the
room, by the little clock on the mantelpiece. I also observed that you
walked about softly while there. If you bring this charge against me,
I can but repeat what happened."
"And who will believe your word? you have no witnesses."
"Nor have you."
"I hold the bottles," said Strause, with another sneer.
Keith was silent for a minute or two.
"I see nothing for it," he said, "but to try and get an order to have
the body exhumed, and thus have the case properly sifted."
Strause uttered an uneasy laugh. He walked to the window and looked
out. Then he returned to Keith.
"You do not know, perhaps," he said, "that the effects of opium are
very short-lived, and that long before now all traces of opium would
have left the poor fellow's body."
"Let the case be brought openly to trial," was Keith's next remark.
"What! you would have yourself ruined, if not worse?"
"I would rather risk anything than put myself in your power."
As Keith spoke he rose and left the room without even saying good-bye
to Strause. All that night he kept to his resolve to sift the matter
thoroughly, and then repeated to himself,--
"Anything would be better than getting myself into Strause's power."
But the following morning he received letters from home which caused
him to look upon the affair from a fresh point of view. His mother had
been seriously ill; his cousin, as he always called Kitty Hepworth,
wrote to him to say how nervous she had become. She also said that
Mrs. Keith was troubled about money matters, having lately lost a large
sum through the failure of an Australian bank. If there was any one on
earth whom Keith worshipped, it was his widowed mother. Without a
moment's delay he wrote to her to tell her of his unexpected legacy,
and to ask her to put at least two thousand pounds of the money to her
own credit. He further resolved not to give her anxiety by allowing
the case of poor Aylmer's death to be investigated. In short, he
deliberately, and without at all realizing what he was doing, put
himself in the major's power.
For the first few weeks his enemy lay low, as the expression is. But
soon he began to use the dangerous weapon which Keith had supplied him
with. The poor fellow was blackmailed, and to a considerable extent.
Strause now informed him that his delay in having the case investigated
made it black against him.
"Had you acted when you first heard my suspicions, a jury might have
been inclined to look leniently at the matter; but your reticence, and
the very fact that you have used some of your legacy, would tell
terribly against you."
Keith believed him, and that evening handed him five hundred pounds.
From that moment his fate was sealed.
His face lost its youthfulness; he became haggard and worn. He hated
himself for what he termed his cowardice. He was convinced in his own
mind that if there was foul play in the matter Strause was at the
bottom of it.
Meanwhile Strause was dropping hints in the regiment which bore fruit
in a coldness towards Keith. Strause hinted that Keith held a secret,
and that this secret had something to do with his lucky windfall, as it
was termed. No one believed much what Strause said, but the evidence
of their senses caused his brother officers to gaze at Keith in some
surprise. Aylmer's name, mentioned on purpose, caused the man to start
and change colour. The mention of the legacy was like touching a raw
place. It was known that Aylmer had died very suddenly, that Keith had
been with him at the last, and that there was no nurse. It was also
known that Keith's legacy was an unexpectedly big one.
There came an evening when Strause and Keith dined together, and
Strause, who wanted a very large sum of money from Keith, introduced a
peculiar drug into his wine. This drug had a curious effect on the
mind--stimulating it at first into unnatural activity, but weakening
the judgment, and altogether causing the moral senses to remain in
abeyance. It was an Indian drug, which Major Strause had learned the
secret of from a native some time before. Its later effect was very
much that of ordinary opium.
Keith was asked to dine with his brother officer in his own quarters.
Two other men were present. Wine was handed round, and they all made
merry. The other men were, however, on duty at an early hour that
evening. Strause knew this, but Keith did not. Strause and Keith
found themselves alone, and Strause produced the bottle which had been
previously prepared. Keith took a couple of glasses--quite enough for
Strause's purpose. Soon the effect which the drug always produced
became manifest. Keith lost his self-control without knowing the fact.
Strause brought the full power of a clever mind to bear on his victim.
In the end he got Keith to sign a cheque for three thousand pounds in
his favour.
Strause had now, by large sums and small, secured nearly half the
legacy. The present three thousand would stave off immediate
difficulties, and he resolved, for a time at least, to leave the young
man alone.
Keith went out to return to his own quarters; but the excitement of the
drug was still on him, and he resolved to take a walk. He had by this
time forgotten that he had signed the cheque; but his mind kept
dwelling on Aylmer, and it seemed to him that at every turn of the road
he saw the dead lad, who came to reproach him for being the cause of
his early death.
"If this sort of thing goes on," he said to himself, "I shall end by
believing that I really did change the medicines."
Suddenly, as is always the case, the effect of the drug which he had
imbibed changed. He became sleepy and stupid. His head reeled, and he
staggered as though he were drunk. Presently, unable to go another
step, he fell down by the roadside. There Mollie Hepworth found him.
By the next morning he was himself again, and he then remembered all
that had occurred. He was convinced that he had been drugged the night
before. His suspicions with regard to Strause became intensified, and
he felt that if this sort of thing continued much longer there was
nothing for him but to leave the army, a ruined, and, in the eyes of
many, a disgraced man. For he was quite aware of the fact that Strause
dropped hints by no means in his favour. In no other way could he
account for the coldness that had arisen amongst his old friends. He
was thoroughly miserable, and but for his mother, would have left
England for ever.
A few days after this Strause met him with the information that he had
exchanged into another regiment.
"I am heartily glad to hear it," was Keith's rejoinder.
Strause looked him full in the eyes.
"All the same, we shall meet again," he said; "I have not done with
you, my fine fellow."
Keith had a good deal of recuperative power, and after Strause went he
began once again to recover. Hope returned to him; the brightness came
back to his eyes, and the vigour to his frame. He never ceased to
regret that he had not insisted on Strause's ugly suspicions being
brought into the light of day; but being relieved from the man's
society, he once more began to enjoy existence. He resolved not to let
Major Strause ruin his life.
He sincerely hoped that he and his enemy might not meet again. The
loss of five thousand pounds of his legacy mattered but little if he
had really got rid of Strause. He became once more popular and
beloved, and at the time when this story opens he had, to a great
extent, got over the shock which Aylmer's death and its subsequent
events had caused him.
Several months had passed since that fatal time when Mollie Hepworth
had found him, drugged and insensible, by the roadside. He had tried
to forget all the incidents of that dreadful night, except one. Over
and over, often when he was dropping asleep, often in his busiest and
most active moments, the face of Mollie, so kind, so calm, with an
indefinable likeness to another face which he knew, and in a great
measure loved, came back to him. He felt that Mollie was his guardian
angel, and he wondered if he should ever meet her again. When she
arrived at his mother's house, and he found that the girl who had
helped him in the lowest moment of his life was really Kitty's sister,
his surprise and delight were almost indescribable. Before twenty-four
hours had gone the inevitable thing had taken place: he had lost his
heart to Mollie Hepworth.
He loved her with all a young man's first passion. He had liked girls
before, but he had never loved any one till now. Yes, he loved Mollie,
and he did not see that there was any obstacle to his winning her.
When he stood by her side in the front drawing-room in his mother's
house before dinner, when once or twice his hand touched hers, and when
many times his eyes looked into hers, he thought of a moment when he
might draw her close to him and tell her everything. He had not told
her everything yet. All he had told her was that he knew for a fact
that Major Strause had drugged him; that he was in the major's power,
and did not see any way out. He had told her nothing about Aylmer. He
felt that the story, if it were to be kept a secret, ought not to be
known even by one so trustworthy as Mollie. And as he talked to her
and listened to her grave, sensible replies, he felt that he loved her
more and more each moment. How glad he was now that he had never gone
too far with pretty, gay, dear little Kitty! His mother had hinted
more than once that Kitty would be a desirable wife for him. He had
been wise not to listen to his mother's words. He had always been fond
of Kitty, but he had never, he felt, said one word to her which she
could justly misinterpret. Yes, he was free--free to woo Mollie, and
to win her if he could. He knew that he would woo earnestly and with
passion. He had a sudden sense, too, of belief in his own ultimate
success. She loved her profession, but there was that in her which
would make her love him even better.
He sat down to dinner in the best of spirits, and his eyes often
followed the girl who was now occupying all his thoughts. After dinner
he was destined to see the other side of the picture; for Kitty, in her
despair, had shown him so much of her heart that he could not for an
instant mistake her feelings. He was shocked, distressed. Once again
he blamed himself.
"I am doomed to be unlucky," he muttered, as he tossed from side to
side on his pillow. "Is it possible that Aylmer came by his death by
foul means? O my God, I cannot even think on that topic! Is it also
possible that at any time I gave poor little Kitty reason to believe
that I cared for her other than as a brother? Honestly, I don't think
I have done so. Poor little girl! I don't love her in the way she
wants me to love her. She would make a dear little sister, but a
wife--no. Kitty, I don't love you as a wife ought to be loved, and I
do love your sister Mollie. What a position for a man to be in!"