KITTY'S WARNING.
"It's an odd thing," said Percival, with a puzzled look, "that Kitty
won't see me."
"Won't see you?" ejaculated Rupert.
They had arrived at Dunmuir the previous day, and located themselves at
the hotel. Arthur Fane had come with them, but he was at present in the
smoking-room, and the two friends had their parlour to themselves.
"Exactly. Sent word she was ill."
"Through whom?"
"A servant. A man whom I have seen with Luttrell several times. Stevens,
they call him."
"Did you see Hugo Luttrell?"
"No. I heard his voice."
"He was in the house then?"
"Yes. I suppose he did not care to see me."
"You are curiously unsuspicious for a man of your experience," said
Vivian, resting his head on one hand with a sort of sigh.
Percival started to his feet. "You think that it was a blind?" he cried.
"No doubt of it. He does not want you to see your sister."
"What for? Good Heavens! you don't mean to insinuate that he does not
treat her well?"
"No. I don't mean to insinuate anything."
"Then tell me in plain English what you do mean."
"I can't, Percival. I have vague suspicions, that is all."
"It was a love-match," said Percival, after a moment's pause. "They
ought to be happy together."
Rupert was silent a moment; then he said, in a low voice--
"I doubt whether it was a love-match exactly."
"What in Heaven or earth do you mean?" said Percival, staring. "What
else could it be?"
But before Vivian could make any response, young Fane entered the room
with the air of one who has had good news.
"Mr. Colquhoun asks me to tell you that he has just had a letter from
Mr. Brian Luttrell, sir. He is to meet Mr. and Mrs. Luttrell at the
station at nine o'clock, but their arrival is not to be made generally
known. Only hearing that you were here, he thought it better to let you
know."
"They could not have got Angela's letter," said Rupert. "I wonder why
they are coming. It is very opportune."
"If you don't mind," remarked Percival, "I'll go and see Mr. Colquhoun.
I want to know what he thinks of our adventures. And he may tell me
something about affairs at Netherglen."
He departed on his errand, whistling as he went; but the whistle died on
his lips as soon as he was out of Rupert's hearing. He resumed his
geniality of bearing, however, when he stood in Mr. Colquhoun's office.
"Well, Mr. Colquhoun," he said, "I think we have all taken you by
surprise now."
The old man looked at him keenly over his spectacles.
"I won't say but what you have," he said, with an emphasis on the
pronoun. Percival laughed cheerily.
"Thanks. That's a compliment."
"It's just the truth. You've done a very right thing, and a generous
one, Mr. Heron; and I shall esteem it an honour to shake hands with
you." And Mr. Colquhoun got up from his office-chair, and held out his
hand with a look of congratulation. Percival gave it a good grip, and
resumed, in an airier tone than ever.
"You do me proud, as a Yankee would say, Mr. Colquhoun. I'm sure I don't
see what I've done to merit this mark of approval. Popular report says
that I jilted Miss Murray in the most atrocious manner; but then you
always wanted me to do that, I remember."
"Lad, lad," said the old man, reprovingly, "what is all this bluster and
swagger about? Take the credit of having made a sacrifice for once in
your life, and don't be too ready to say it cost you nothing. Man,
didn't I see you on the street just now, with your hands in your pockets
and your face as black as my shoe? You hadn't those wrinkles in your
brow when you started for Pernambuco six months ago. It's pure
childishness to pretend that you feel nothing and care for nothing, when
we all know that you've had a sore trouble and a hard fight of it. But
you've conquered, Mr. Heron, as I thought you would."
Percival sat perfectly still. His face wore at first an expression of
great surprise. Then it relaxed, and became intently grave and even sad,
but the defiant bitterness disappeared.
"I think you're right," he said, after a long pause. "Of course,
I've--I've been hit pretty hard. But I don't want people to know. I
don't want her to know. And I don't mean either to snivel or to sulk.
But I see what you mean; and I think you may be right."
Mr. Colquhoun made some figures on his blotting-pad, and did not look up
for a few minutes. He was glad that his visitor had dropped his sneering
tone. And, indeed, Percival dropped it for the remainder of his visit,
and, although he talked of scarcely anything but trivial topics, he went
away feeling as if Mr. Colquhoun was no longer an enemy, but a
confidential friend. On his return to the hotel, he found that Vivian
had gone out with Arthur Fane. He occupied himself with strolling idly
about Dunmuir till they came back.
Vivian had ordered a dog-cart, and got Fane to drive him up to
Netherglen. He thought it possible that he might gain admittance,
although Percival had not done so. But he was mistaken. He was assured
by the impassive Stevens that Mrs. Hugo Luttrell was too unwell to see
visitors, and that Mr. Luttrell was not at home. Vivian was forced to
drive away, baffled and impatient.
"Drive me round by the loch," he said to Fane. "There is a road running
close to the water. I should like to go that way. What does the loch
look like to-day, Fane? Is it bright?"
"Yes, very bright."
"And the sky is clear?"
"Clear in the south and east. There are clouds coming up from the
north-west; we shall have rain to-night."
They drove on silently, until at last Fane said, in rather a hesitating
tone:--
"There is a lady making signs to us to turn round to wait, sir. She is a
little way behind us."
"A lady? Stop then; stop at once. Is she near? What is she like? Is she
young?"
"Very young, very slight. She is close to us now," said Fane, as he
checked his horse.
Rupert bent forward with a look of eager expectation. He heard a
footstep on the road; surely he knew it? He knew the voice well enough
as it spoke his name.
"Mr. Vivian!"
"Kitty!" he said, eagerly. Then, in a soberer tone: "I beg your pardon,
Mrs. Luttrell, I have just been calling at Netherglen and heard that you
were ill."
"I am not ill, but I do not see visitors," said Kitty, in a constrained
voice. "I wanted to speak to you; I saw you from the garden. I thought I
should never make you hear."
"Will you wait one moment until I get down from my high perch? Fane will
help me; I feel rather helpless at present."
"Can you turn back with me for a few minutes?"
"Certainly."
They walked for a few steps side by side, he with his hand resting on
her arm for the sake of guidance. The soft spring breezes played upon
their faces; the scent of wild flowers came to their nostrils, the song
of building birds to their ears. But they noted none of these things.
Vivian stopped short at last, and spoke authoritatively.
"Now, Kitty, what does this mean? Why can you not see your brother and
me when we call upon you?"
"My husband does not wish it," she said, faintly.
"Why not?"
"I don't know." Then, in a more decided tone: "He likes to thwart my
wishes, that is all."
"That was why you warned Angela not to answer your letter?"
"Yes." Then, under her breath:--"I was afraid."
"But, my child, what are you afraid of?"
She uttered a short, stifled sob.
"I can't tell you," she said.
"Surely," said Rupert, "he would not hurt you?"
"No," she said, "perhaps not. I do not know."
There was a dreariness in her tone which went to Rupert's heart.
"Take courage," he said. "Brian and Elizabeth will be in Dunmuir
to-night. Shall they come to see you?"
"Oh, yes, yes, yes!" cried Kitty. "Let them come at once--at once, tell
them. You will see them, will you not?" She had forgotten Rupert's
blindness. "If they come, I shall be prevented from meeting them,
perhaps; I know I shall not be allowed to talk to them alone. Tell Mr.
Luttrell to come and live at Netherglen. Tell him to turn us out. I
shall be thankful to him all my life if he turns us out. I want to go!"
"You want to leave Netherglen?"
"Yes, yes, as quick as possible. Tell him that Mrs. Luttrell wants
him--that she is sorry for having been so harsh to him. I know it. I can
see it in her eyes. I tell her everything that I hear about him, and I
know she likes it. She is pleased that he has married Elizabeth. Tell
him to come to-night."
"To-night?" said Rupert. He began to fear that her troubles had affected
her brain.
"Yes, to-night. Remember to tell him so. To-morrow may be too late. Now,
go, go. He may come home at any moment; and if he saw you"--she caught
her breath with a sob--"if he saw you here, I think that he would kill
me."
"Kitty, Kitty! It cannot be so bad as this."
"Indeed, it is--and worse than you know," she said, bitterly. "Now let
me lead you back. Thank you for coming. And tell Brian--be sure you tell
Brian to come home to-night. It is his right, nobody can keep him out.
But not alone. Tell him not to come alone."
It was with these words ringing in his ears that Rupert was driven back
to Dunmuir.
Brian and his wife arrived about nine o'clock in the evening, as they
had said in the letter which Mr. Colquhoun had received. Vivian, wrought
up by this time to a high pitch of excitement, did not wait five minutes
before pouring the whole of his story into Brian's ear. Brian's eyes
flashed, his face looked stern as he listened to Kitty's message.
"The hound!" he said. "The cur! I expected almost as much. I know now
what I never dreamt of before. He is a cowardly villain, and I will
expose him this very night."
"Remember poor Kitty," said Elizabeth.
"I will spare her as much as possible, but I will not spare him. Do you
know, Vivian, that he tried to murder Dino Vasari? There is not a
blacker villain on the face of the earth. And to think that all this
time my mother has been at his mercy!"
"His mother!" ejaculated Mr. Colquhoun in Percival's ear, with a chuckle
of extreme satisfaction, "I'm glad he's come back to that nomenclature.
Blood's thicker than water; and I'll stand to it, as I always have done,
that this Brian's the right one after all."
"It's the only one there is, now," said Percival, "Vasari is dead."
"Poor laddie! Well, he was just too good for this wicked world," said
the lawyer, with great cheerfulness, "and it would be a pity to grudge
him to another. And what are you after now, Brian?"
"I'm going up to Netherglen."
"Without your dinner?"
"What do I care for dinner when my mother's life may be in danger?" said
Brian.
"Tut, tut! Why should it be in danger to-night of all nights in the
year?" said Mr. Colquhoun, testily.
"Why? Can you ask? Have you not told me yourself that my mother made a
will before her illness, leaving all that she possessed to Hugo? Depend
upon it, he is anxious to get Netherglen. When he hears that I have come
back he will be afraid. He knows that I can expose him most thoroughly.
He is quite capable of trying to put an end to my mother's life
to-night. And that is what your sister meant."
"Don't forget her warning. Don't go alone," said Vivian.
"You'll come with me, Percival," said Brian. "And you, Fane."
"If Fane and Percival go, you must let me go, too," remarked Vivian, but
Brian shook his head, and Elizabeth interposed.
"Will you stay with us, Mr. Vivian? Do not leave Mr. Colquhoun and me
alone."
"I'll not be left behind," said Mr. Colquhoun, smartly; "you may depend
upon that, Mrs. Brian. You and Mr. Vivian must take care of my wife; but
I shall go, because it strikes me that I shall be needed. Four of us,
that'll fill the brougham. And we'll put the constable, Macpherson, on
the box."
"I must resign myself to be useless," said Vivian, with a smile which
had some pain in it.
"Useless, my dear fellow? We should never have been warned but for you,"
answered Brian, giving him a warm grasp of the hand before he hurried
off.
In a very short time the carriage was ready. The gentlemen had hastily
swallowed some refreshment, and were eager to start. Brian turned back
for a moment to bid his wife farewell, and received a whispered caution
with the kiss that she pressed upon his face.
"Spare Kitty as much as you can, love. And take care of your dear self"
Then they set out for Netherglen.
The drive was almost a silent one. Each member of the party was more or
less absorbed in his own thoughts, and Brian's face wore a look of stern
determination which seemed to impose quietude upon the others. It was he
who took command of the expedition, as naturally as Percival had taken
command of the sailors upon the Rocas Reef.
"We will not drive up to the house," he said, as they came in sight of
the white gates of Netherglen. "We should only be refused admittance. I
have told the driver where to stop."
"It's a blustering night," said Mr. Colquhoun.
"All the better for us," replied Brian. "We are not so likely to be
overheard."
"Why, you don't think that they would keep us out, do you, Brian, my
lad? Hugo hasn't the right to do that, you know. He's never said me nay
to my face as yet."
"Depend upon it, he won't show," said Percival, contemptuously. "He'll
pretend to be asleep, or away from home, or something of the sort."
"I am sure that he will try to keep us out, if he can," said Brian,
"and, therefore, I am not going to give him the chance. I think I can
get into the house by a side door."
The carriage had drawn up in the shade of some overhanging beech trees
whilst they were speaking. The four men got out, and stood for a moment
in the road. The night was a rough one, as Mr. Colquhoun had said; the
wind blew in fierce but fitful gusts; the sky was covered with heavy,
scurrying clouds.
Every now and then the wind sent a great dash of rain into their faces,
it seemed as if a tempest were preparing, and the elements were about to
be let loose.
"We are like thieves," said Heron, shrugging his shoulders. "I don't
care for this style of work. I should walk boldly up to the door and
give a thundering peal with the knocker."
"You don't know Hugo as well as I do," responded Brian.
"Thank Heaven, no. Are you armed, Fane?"
"I've got a stick," said Fane, with gusto.
"And I've got a revolver. Now for the fray."
"We shall not want arms of that kind," said Brian. "If you are ready,
please follow me."
He led the way through the gates and down the drive, then turned off at
right angles and pursued his way along a narrow path, across which the
wet laurels almost touched, and had to be pushed back. They reached at
last the side entrance of which Brian had spoken. He tried the handle,
and gently shook the door; but it did not move. He tried it a second
time--with no result.
"Locked!" said Percival, significantly.
"That does not matter," responded Brian. "Look here; but do not speak."
He felt in the darkness for one of the panels of the door. Evidently he
knew that there was some hidden spring. The panel suddenly flew back,
leaving a space of two feet square, through which it was easy for Brian
to insert his hand and arm, draw back a bolt, and turn the key which had
been left in the lock. It was a door which he and Richard had known of
old. They had kept the secret, however, to themselves; and it was
possible that Hugo had never learned it. Even Mr. Colquhoun uttered a
faint inarticulate murmur of surprise.
The door was open before them, but they were still standing outside in
the wet shrubbery, their feet on the damp grass, the evergreens
trickling water in their faces, when an unexpected sound fell upon their
ears.
Somewhere, in another part of the building--probably in the front of the
house--one of the upper windows was thrown violently open. Then a
woman's voice, raised in shrill tones of fear or pain, rang out between
the fitful gusts of wind and rain.
"Help! Help! Help!"
There was no time to lose. The four men threw caution to the winds, and
dashed headlong into the winding passages of the dark old house.
* * * * *
When Rupert Vivian drove away from Netherglen, Kitty stood for some time
in the lane where they had been walking, and gazed after him with
painful, anxious interest. The dog-cart was well out of sight before she
turned, with a heavy sigh, preparing herself to walk back to the house.
And then, for the first time, she became aware that her husband was
standing at some little distance from her, and was coolly watching her,
with folded arms and an evil smile upon his face.
"I have been wondering how long you meant to stand there, watching
Vivian drive away," he said, advancing slowly to meet her. "Did you ask
him about his wife?"
Kitty thought of her conversation with Rupert at Strathleckie--a
conversation of which she had kept Hugo in ignorance--and coloured
vividly.
"His wife is dead," she said, in a smothered tone.
"Oh, then, you did ask him?" said Hugo, looking at her. "Is that what he
came to tell you?"
Kitty did not reply. She had thrown a shawl over her head before coming
out, and she stood drawing the edges of it closer across her bosom with
nervous, twitching fingers and averted face.
"Why did you come out in that way?" queried her husband. "You look like
a madwoman in that shawl. You looked more like one than ever when you
ran after that dog-cart, waving your hands for Vivian to stop. He did
not want to see you or to be forced into an interview."
"Then you have been watching me?"
"I always watch you. Women are such fools that they require watching.
What did you want to speak to Vivian about?"
"I will not tell you," said Kitty, suddenly growing pale.
"Then it is something that you ought not to have said. I understand your
ways by this time. Come here, close to me." She came like a frightened
child. "Look at me, kiss me." She obeyed, after some faint show of
reluctance. He put his arm round her and kissed her several times, on
cheek and brow and lips. "You don't like that," he said, releasing her
at last with a smile. "That is why I do it. You are mine now, remember,
not Vivian's. Now tell me what you said to him."
"Never!" said Kitty, with a gasp.
A change passed over Hugo's face.
"Who is with Vivian and your brother?" he demanded "Has Brian Luttrell
come back?"
But he could not make her answer him. His hand was no longer on her arm,
and with a desperate effort of will, she fled with sudden swiftness from
him towards the house. He stood and watched her, with a look of sullen
anger darkening his face. "She is not to be trusted," he muttered to
himself. "I must finish my work to-night."