SELLING HIS HERITAGE.
It was hardly to be expected that Janet should remain under the roof of
Mrs. Hoffman without attracting the attention of her unscrupulous son,
and at last Felix Hoffman annoyed her so persistently that his mother
gave him to understand if he did not desist he would be forbidden the
house. Janet hated the sight of him, and seldom answered his questions.
This annoyed him, and offended his pride, of which he possessed a
ridiculous quantity. One day, when Janet was out, he came across a
letter she had carelessly left on her table, and without scruple picked
it up and read it. The contents did not afford him much gratification,
but the heading to the paper gave food for reflection. Anselm Manor,
Rushshire, sounded well, and the letter was signed Warren.
"Warren what? He must have another name," thought Felix. "I should like
to know what it is."
He set to work to find out, and was not long before he succeeded. Warren
Courtly was well known amongst sporting men, and Felix soon discovered
who and what he was.
He chuckled to himself as he thought what a commotion it would cause if
Mrs. Courtly knew about Janet Todd's connection with her husband. He
foresaw a profitable harvest from this source, but had no intention of
putting Warren Courtly on his guard at present.
He had written many begging letters in the course of his life, and
several of them had proved effective. It occurred to him it would be a
neat stroke of business to write to Mrs. Courtly for assistance, and
after several attempts he decided to dispatch the one already alluded
to.
It reached Irene safely, with the result that Felix was enriched by five
pounds. He was quite proud of this achievement, for he had doubts as to
the success of his missive.
He wrote back thanking her, and repeating that he would refund the money
at some future date.
This was how Irene came to have a knowledge of Felix Hoffman. His reply
was sent on to Hazelwell, and she decided to show both letters to the
Squire.
"I hope you will not think me very foolish," she said, as she handed him
the letters; "you will gather from them what has taken place."
Redmond Maynard read them, and said--
"This man, whoever he is, must be a clever rogue, it is a form of
begging-letter writing I have never seen before. I do not blame you for
sending the money, although had you consulted me I should have felt more
inclined to hand over the matter to the police. You must not send him
any more money," said the Squire.
"Do you think he will write for more?"
"Most decidedly, especially as his first letter was such a success."
"I had thought of going to Feltham the next time I am in London, and
finding out where he lives and the kind of man he is," she said.
"You must not do anything of the kind. There is no telling where he is;
at any rate, you must not venture there alone," he replied.
"It is merely from a desire to gratify my curiosity that I wish to go. I
am sure no harm will come of it."
The Squire shook his head, as he replied--
"The letter has cost you five pounds, let the matter drop and think no
more about it."
"Feltham is not far from Kempton Park," said Irene. "I wonder if Warren
knows anything about the place?"
"Probably. Ask him when he returns home," said the Squire. "By the way,
Irene, I had almost forgotten it is New Year's Day. We are not a very
jolly household for the occasion, but we must not commence another year
with gloomy thoughts and melancholy countenances."
"I hope this year will bring Ulick home again," she said.
"So do I, with all my heart," said the Squire. "There's Eli coming up
the walk, I wonder what he wants."
"Shall I tell Bob to send him in when he arrives?" she asked.
"Yes, do, Irene."
Eli Todd came into the room, and wished them a cheery Happy New Year.
"We have made a good start at the stud, although I had a terribly
anxious time of it," he said.
"Made a good start, what do you mean?" said the Squire. "There are no
foals yet?"
"Only one," replied Eli, smiling, "and he was precious near being born
before midnight. As luck would have it, he came into the world a quarter
of an hour after, so that is all right."
"But there was no mare due to foal so early," remarked the Squire.
"Only old Honeysuckle," said Eli, with a smile.
"You mean to tell me the old mare has a foal? I was certain it would be
the middle of the month before that event came off," said the Squire.
"I knew you were wrong, but I did not contradict you," replied Eli.
"Then if you knew I was wrong, it was your business to tell me, and you
ought to have done so," said the Squire.
Eli was a privileged servant, and although always respectful to the
Squire, occasionally answered him bluntly.
"It is not an easy matter to contradict you, Squire; you generally like
to have your own way," said Eli.
Irene laughed, and said she must certainly side with him in his remark.
"That is rather hard upon me," replied the Squire. "I had no idea I was
so obstinate."
"Oh, but you are," laughed Irene, "and once you have made up your mind
you stick to it through thick and thin."
"That is about a correct summing up of the situation," said Eli.
"What sort of a youngster is it?" asked the Squire.
"Very promising, so far as I can judge at this stage; he ought to make a
good one."
"Do let us go and see him," said Irene.
The Squire walked to the window and looked out. The snow still lay deep
upon the ground, but it was hard and crisp, and afforded good walking.
"I think we may venture," he said. "Will you come, Irene?"
"With pleasure, I will not be more than a few minutes putting on my
things." She left the room, and returned enveloped in a seal-skin
jacket, trimmed with heavy sable, and a toque to match. She looked very
attractive, and the Squire glanced at her admiringly. Eli Todd thought
he had never seen a prettier woman, and wondered how Ulick could have
been so foolish as to leave the way clear for Warren Courtly to win her.
They thoroughly enjoyed the walk in the brisk, frosty air, and when they
arrived at the stud farm Eli took them to Honeysuckle's box.
He quietly opened the door, and, stepping inside, they saw a pretty
sight. The mare was standing sideways to them, and as they entered the
foal looked at them with big, inquiring eyes. He sidled up close to his
mother, and playfully pushed her with his nose. He was a well-made colt,
long on the leg, and with a beautiful head and well-shaped body.
The Squire eyed him critically for several minutes, and then said--
"He ought to make a good one, there is plenty of room for him to fill
out and develop. I am glad Honeysuckle has thrown such a good one, it
will probably be her last."
"I thought you would like him," said Eli.
Irene went up to him and patted him gently. The colt was not at all
alarmed, and sniffed at her jacket and fur with evident relish.
"He's a dear little fellow," she said, "and I hope he will win a good
race or two for you. I should like to see him win."
"You may have that pleasure next year," said the Squire, "that is if he
goes on all right; so many promising foals turn out badly, one never
knows what may happen."
Bersak put his head in the door, and the colt started back in alarm. It
was his first introduction to another animal, and he evidently regarded
Bersak as some wild savage beast of prey. Honeysuckle turned round, and
looked straight at the intruder, but she and Bersak were friends and had
met many times before.
Eli thought of the scene the previous night, and wished he could tell
the Squire he had seen Ulick. He had given his word not to mention the
visit, and therefore his lips were sealed.
"We will walk through the plantation on the way home," said the Squire,
"it is a short cut, and I feel I shall be ready for luncheon when we get
in."
They set off at a brisk pace, Bersak following at their heels. It was a
pleasant walk, and hares and rabbits frequently ran across their path,
while the pheasants strutted about proudly, their brilliant plumage
affording a sharp contrast to the snow.
After luncheon the Squire had his usual nap, and Irene looked over the
various papers and magazines.
A paragraph caught her eye, and she read it with feelings of wonder and
amazement. It was to the effect that Mr. Warren Courtly, of Anselm
Manor, had disposed of Holme Farm for the sum of ten thousand pounds,
and this was instanced as another proof of the decreased value of land.
"Sold the Holme Farm, there must be some mistake!" thought Irene, and
read the paragraph again.
"He never mentioned anything about it to me, and I know of no reason why
he should sell it. I wonder where these rumours originate; they have no
business to insert them in the paper until they ascertain whether they
are correct."
She was troubled over it, although she did not believe it to be true.
The Holme Farm was one of the best on the Anselm estate, and even if
Warren had been compelled to sell it, she thought he might have given
the Squire the first refusal. She failed to understand the meaning of
it, and was still puzzling over the matter when the Squire awoke and
looked at her through his half-closed eyes.
He saw something had disturbed her, and, sitting up in his chair,
inquired the cause.
"There is an announcement in the paper I cannot understand," she said.
"This is it."
He read the paragraph and said, "What an abominable statement to make.
It must be some other farm of that name, and Warren's name has been
inadvertently inserted as that of the owner."
He looked at it again, and saw it was an announcement made by the
auctioneers who sold the property. This made the matter more serious,
the sellers would not be likely to make such a mistake.
"Warren would never have sold it without telling me he was about to do
so," said Irene.
"He has done a very foolish thing if he has sold it," said the Squire.
"He cannot possibly be short of money with the income he has. Ten
thousand pounds is a ridiculous sum for the Holme Farm, it ought to be
worth five thousand more at least. He will explain what it all means
when he returns home."
Notwithstanding he spoke confidently, the Squire had his misgivings. He
had heard vague rumours from his brother magistrates, when he met them
as chairman of the county bench and of the quarter sessions, that all
was not well with Warren Courtly. He paid very little attention to the
statements, treating them as so much idle gossip, but they came home to
him forcibly now. He had heard that Warren Courtly had been going the
pace on the racecourse and gambling heavily, but he thought Warren quite
capable of looking after himself. They passed a somewhat quiet afternoon
and evening, for the announcement disturbed them both, and Irene was
anxious for the next morning to come, in the hope it might bring her
some explanation from her husband.
It was quite true that Warren Courtly had sold the Holme Farm for ten
thousand pounds, and the bulk of the money received from it went to pay
his debts. He was in no very enviable frame of mind when he stepped into
the Windsor train at Waterloo on his way to Feltham to see Janet. He was
heartily sick and tired of her, and of the deception he had to practise
in connection with her. Moreover, Janet was becoming troublesome, and,
what was still worse, homesick. She was constantly imploring him to
allow her to return to her father, promising to keep his secret and
never to breathe a word about their intimacy. Warren Courtly would not
hear of it. He knew of Eli Todd's great affection and devotedness to
Ulick, and felt certain he would extract the truth from Janet if she
lived with him again. He had wronged Irene, and deceived her, but he
meant to shield her from the consequences of his folly at any cost. She
must never know that he had been cowardly enough to allow Ulick to lie
under the ban of a false accusation.
He left the train at Feltham, and walked to Mrs. Hoffman's.
Janet shook hands with him as an ordinary acquaintance; there was no
love between them now, whatever there had been a couple of years ago.
The more she saw of him and learned his nature, the more she despised
him.
"You are looking well," he said, "the world is treating you better than
me."
"Is it?" she answered, carelessly. "I am very unhappy, I want to go home
again. I cannot rest until Mr. Ulick's name is cleared. It is a shame he
should suffer for your fault."
"My fault and yours," he said, angrily. "You always lay all the blame at
my door."
"And that is where it ought to be. I was a fool ever to trust you."
"I have done all I can for you, more than I can afford."
She laughed as she replied--
"That is nice talk for the owner of Anselm Manor."
"It is true nevertheless. I have sold the Holme Farm to pay my debts."
"I don't believe it."
"Read that," he said, and handed her the paper with an account of the
sale.
"Ten thousand pounds!" she exclaimed. "That is a lot of money. I am
rather short of cash, you must give me some."
"You had twenty pounds last month."
"And I want twenty more now."
"You cannot have it."
"Then you must take the consequences," she said.
"What shall you do?"
"Pack up my things, go down to Helton, see my father, and tell the
truth," she replied.
"You dare not, no one would believe your story."
"One person would, I am certain," she answered.
"Your father?"
"Probably, but I meant your wife," said Janet.
"You dare not speak to her of such things," he said, angrily.
"And why not? She has every right to know the truth."
"If I give you the money will you hold your tongue?" he asked.
"Yes, until I require more," was her reply.
He gave her twenty pounds, thankful to be able to stave off the evil
day, hoping in the meantime to find some way out of his difficulties.