They sat in the small garden-room, its glass-doors open to the warm
spring air. Mrs. Knox wore an untidy cotton gown, of a flaming
crimson-and-white pattern, and her dark face looked hot and angry. Dr.
Knox, sitting behind the table, was being annoyed as much as he could be
annoyed--and no one ever annoyed him but his step-mother--as the lines
in his patient brow betrayed.
"It is for his own good that I suggest this; his welfare," urged Dr.
Knox. "Left to his own will much longer, he must not be. Therefore I say
that he must be placed at school."
"You only propose it to thwart me," cried Mrs. Knox. "A fine expense it
will be!"
"It will not be your expense. I pay his schooling now, and I shall pay
it then. My father left me, young though I was, Dicky's guardian, and
I must do this. I wonder you do not see that it will be the very best
thing for Dicky. Every one but yourself sees that, as things are, the
boy is being ruined."
Mrs. Knox looked sullenly through the open doors near which she sat; she
tapped her foot impatiently upon the worn mat, lying on the threshold.
"I know you won't rest until you have carried your point and separated
us, Arnold; it has been in your mind to do it this long while. And my
boy is the only thing I care for in life."
"It is for Dicky's own best interest," reiterated Dr. Knox. "Of course
he is dear to you; it would be unnatural if he were not; but you surely
must wish to see him grow up a good and self-reliant man: not an idle
and self-indulgent one."
"Why don't you say outright that your resolve is taken and nothing can
alter it; that you are going to banish him to school to-morrow?"
"Not to-morrow, but he shall go at the half-quarter. The child will be
ten times happier for it; believe that."
"Do you _really_ mean it?" she questioned, her black eyes flashing fury
at Arnold. "Will nothing deter you?"
"Nothing," he replied, in a low, firm tone. "I--bear with me a moment,
mother--I cannot let Dicky run riot any longer. He is growing up the
very incarnation of selfishness; he thinks the world was made for him
alone; you and his sisters are only regarded by him as so many ministers
to his pleasure. See how he treats you all. See how he treats the
servants. Were I to allow this state of things to continue, how should I
be fulfilling my obligation to my dead father?--my father and Dicky's."
"I will hear no more," spoke Mrs. Knox, possibly thinking the argument
was getting too strong for her. "_I_ have wanted to speak to you,
Arnold, and I may as well do it now. Things must be put on a different
footing up here."
"What things?"
"Money matters. I cannot continue to do upon my small income."
Arnold Knox passed his hand across his troubled brow, almost in despair.
Oh, what a weary subject this was! Not for long together did she ever
give him rest from it.
"Your income is sufficient, mother; I am tired of saying it. It
is between three and four hundred a-year; and you are free from
house-rent."
"Why don't you remind me that the house is yours, and have done with
it!" she cried, her voice harsh and croaking as a raven's.
"Well, it is mine," he said good-humouredly.
"Yes; and instead of settling it upon me when you married, you must
needs settle it on your wife! Don't _you_ talk of selfishness, Arnold."
"My wife does not derive any benefit from it. It has made no difference
to you."
"She would derive it, though, if you died. Where should I be then?"
"I am not going to die, I hope. Oh, mother, if you only knew how these
discussions vex me!"
"Then you should show yourself generous."
"Generous!" he exclaimed, in a pained tone. And, goaded to it by his
remembrance of what he had done for her in the present and in the past,
he went on to speak more plainly than he had ever spoken yet. "Do you
forget that a great portion of what you enjoy should, by right, be mine?
_Is_ mine!"
"Yours!" she scornfully said.
"Yes: mine. Not by legal right, but by moral. When my father died he
left the whole of his property to you. Considerably more than the half
of that property had been brought to him by my mother: some people might
have thought that much should have descended to her son."
"He did not leave me the whole. You had a share of it."
"Not of the income. I had a sum of five hundred pounds left me, for a
specific purpose--to complete my medical education. Mother, I have never
grumbled at this; never. It was my father's will and pleasure that the
whole should be yours, and that it should go to your children after
you; and I am content to think that he did for the best; the house was
obliged to come to me; it had been so settled at my mother's marriage;
but you have continued to live in it, and I have not said you nay."
"It is like you to remind me of all this!"
"I could remind you of more," he rejoined, chafing at her unjust words,
her resentful manner. "That for years I impoverished myself to help
you to augment this income. Three parts of what I earned, before my
partnership with Mr. Tamlyn, I gave to you."
"Well, I needed it. Do, for goodness' sake, let the past alone, if you
can: where's the use of recalling it? Would you have us starve? Would
you see me taken off to prison? And that's what it will come to, unless
I can get some money to pay up with. That table-drawer that you've
got your elbow on, is full of bills. I've not paid one for these six
months."
"I cannot think what it is you do with your money!"
"Do with my money! Why, it goes in a hundred ways. How very ignorant you
are, Arnold. Look at what dress costs, for myself and four girls! Look
at what the soirées cost! We have to give all sorts of dishes now;
lobster salads and raspberry creams, and all kinds of expensive things.
Madame St. Vincent introduced _that_."
"You must put down the soirées and the dress--if you cannot keep them
within the bounds of your income."
"Thank you. Just as I had to put down the pony-carriage and James. How
cruel you are, Arnold!"
"I hope I am not. I do not wish to be so."
"It will take two hundred pounds to set me straight; and I must have it
from you, or from somebody else," avowed Mrs. Knox.
"You certainly cannot have it, or any portion of it, from me. My
expenses are heavy now, and I have my own children coming on."
His tone was unmistakably decisive, and Mrs. Knox saw that it was
so. For many years she had been in the habit of regarding Arnold as
something like a bucket in a well, which brings up water every time it
is let down. Just so had he brought up money for her from his pocket
every time she worried for it. But that was over now: and he had to bear
these reproaches periodically.
"You know that you _can_ let me have it, Arnold. You can lend it me from
Mina's money."
His face flushed slightly, he pushed his fair hair back with a gesture
of annoyance.
"The last time you spoke of _that_ I begged you never to mention it
again," he said in a low tone. "Why, what do you take me for, mother?"
"Take you for?"
"You must know that I could not touch Mina's money without becoming a
false trustee. Men have been brought to the criminal bar to answer for
a less crime than that would be."
"If Mina married, you would have to hand over the whole of it."
"Of course I should. First of all taking care that it was settled upon
her."
"I don't see the necessity of that. Mina could let me have what she
pleased of it."
"Talking of Mina," resumed Dr. Knox, passing by her remark, "I think you
must look a little closely after her. She is more intimate, I fancy,
with Captain Collinson than is desirable, and----"
"Suppose Captain Collinson wants to marry her?" interrupted Mrs. Knox.
"Has he told you that he wants to do so?"
"No; not in so many words. But he evidently likes her. What a good match
it would be!"
"Mina is too young to be married yet. And Captain Collinson cannot, I
should suppose, have any intention of the sort. If he had, he would
speak out: when it would be time enough to consider and discuss his
proposal. Unless he does speak, I must beg of you not to allow Mina to
be alone with him."
"She never is alone with him."
"I think she is, at odd moments. Only last night I saw her with him at
the gate. Before that, while your soirée was going on, Dicky--I believe
he could tell you so, if you asked him--saw them walking together in
the garden, the captain's arm round her waist."
"Girls are so fond of flirting! And young men think no harm of a little
passing familiarity."
"Just so. But for remembering this, I should speak to Captain Collinson.
The thought that there may be nothing serious in it prevents me. At any
rate, I beg of you to take care of Mina."
"And the money I want?" she asked, as he took up his hat to go.
But Dr. Knox, shortly repeating that he had no money to give her, made
his escape. He had been ruffled enough already. One thing was certain:
that if some beneficent sprite from fairyland increased Mrs. Knox's
annual income cent. per cent. she would still, and ever, be in
embarrassment. Arnold knew this.
Mrs. Knox sat on, revolving difficulties. How many similar interviews
she had held with her step-son, and how often he had been brought round
to pay her bills, she could but remember. Would he do it now? A most
unpleasant doubt, that he would not, lay upon her.
Presently the entrance was darkened by some tall form interposing
itself between herself and the sunlight. She glanced up and saw Captain
Collinson. He stood there smiling, his tasselled cane jauntily
swayed in his left hand.
"My dear madam, you looked troubled. Is anything wrong?"
"Troubled! the world's full of trouble, I think," spoke Mrs. Knox, in a
pettish kind of way. "Dr. Knox has been here to vex me."
Captain Collinson stepped airily in, and sat down near Mrs. Knox, his
eyes expressing proper concern: indignation blended with sympathy.
"Very inconsiderate of Dr. Knox: very wrong! Can I help you in any way,
my dear lady?"
"Arnold is always inconsiderate. First, he begins upon me about Dicky,
threatening to put him altogether away at school, poor ill-used child!
Next, he----"
"Sweet little angel?" interlarded the captain.
"Next, he refuses to lend me a trifling sum of money--and he knows how
badly I want it!"
"Paltry!" ejaculated the captain. "When he must be making so much of
it!"
"Rolling in it, so to say," confirmed Mrs. Knox. "Look at the practice
he has! But if he did not give me any of his, he might advance me a
trifle of Mina's."
"Of course he might," warmly acquiesced Captain Collinson.
What with the warmth and the sympathy, Mrs. Knox rather lost her head.
Many of us are betrayed on occasion into doing the same. That is, she
said more than she should have said.
"You see, if Mina married, as I pointed out to Arnold, the money would
no longer be under his control at all. It would be hers to do as she
pleased with. She is a dear, good, generous girl, and would not scruple
to let me have one or two hundred pounds. What would such a trifle be
out of the whole seven thousand?"
"Very true; nothing at all," cried the captain, toying with his handsome
beard.
"But no; Arnold will not hear of it: he answered me in a way that I
should not like to repeat. He also said he should take care, if Mina did
marry before she was of age, that her money was settled upon her; said
it on purpose to thwart me."
"Cruel!" aspirated the captain.
"Some girls might be tempted to marry off-hand, and say nothing to him,
if only to get her fortune out of his control. I don't say Mina would."
"Miser! My dear madam, rely upon it that whenever Miss Mina does marry,
her husband will join with her in letting you have as much money as you
wish. I am sure it would be his pride and pleasure to do so."
Was it an implied promise? meant to be so understood? Mrs. Knox took it
for one. She came out of her dumps, and felt exalted to the seventh
heaven.
Meanwhile, Arnold Knox was with Lady Jenkins, to whom he had gone on
quitting his step-mother. The old lady, up and dressed, sat in her
dining-room. There appeared to be no change in her condition: drowsy,
lethargic, gentle, yielding; imbecile, or not many shades removed from
it. And yet, neither Dr. Knox nor his fellow-practitioner could see any
cause to account for this. Of bodily illness she had none: except that
she seemed feeble.
"I wish you would tell me what it is you are taking," said Dr. Knox,
bending over her and speaking in low, persuasive tones. "I fear that you
are taking something that does you harm."
Lady Jenkins looked up at him, apparently trying to consider. "I've not
had anything since I took the physic," she said.
"What physic?"
"The bottles that Mr. Tamlyn sent me."
"But that was when you were ill. Are you sure you have not taken
anything else?--that you are not taking anything? Any"--he dropped his
voice to a still lower key--"opiates? Laudanum, for instance?"
Lady Jenkins shook her head. "I never took any sort of opiate in my
life."
"Then it is being given to her without her knowledge," mentally decided
the doctor. "I hear you were at the next door last night, as gay as the
best of them," he resumed aloud, changing his tone to a light one.
"Ay. I put on my new bronze satin gown: Patty said I was to. Janet sang
her pretty songs."
"Did she? When are you coming to spend an evening with us? She will sing
them again for you."
"I should like to come--if I may."
"If you may! There's nothing to prevent it. You are quite well enough."
"There's Patty. We shall have to ask her whether I may."
Anything Arnold Knox might have rejoined to this was stopped by the
entrance of Patty herself, a light blue shawl on her shoulders. A
momentary surprise crossed her face at sight of the doctor.
"Oh, Dr. Knox! I did not know you were here," she said, as she threw off
the shawl. "I was running about the garden for a few minutes. What a
lovely day it is!--the sun so warm."
"It is that. Lady Jenkins ought to be out in it. Should you not like to
take a run in the garden?" he laughingly added to her.
"Should I, Patty?"
The utter abnegation of will, both of tone and look, as she cast an
appealing glance at her companion, struck Dr. Knox forcibly. He looked
at both of them from under his rather overhanging eyebrows. Did Madame
St. Vincent extort this obedience?--or was it simply the old lady's
imbecility? Surely it must be the latter.
"I think," said madame, "a walk in the garden will be very pleasant
for you, dear Lady Jenkins. Lettice shall bring down your things. The
may-tree is budding beautifully."
"Already!" said the doctor: "I should like to see it. Will you go with
me, madame? I have two minutes to spare."
Madame St. Vincent, showing no surprise, though she may have felt it,
put the blue shawl on her shoulders again and followed Dr. Knox. The
may-tree was nearly at the end of the garden, down by the shrubbery.
"Mr. Tamlyn mentioned to you, I believe, that we suspected something
improper, in the shape of opiates, was being given to Lady Jenkins,"
began Dr. Knox, never as much as lifting his eyes to the budding
may-tree.
"Yes; I remember that he did," replied Madame St. Vincent. "I hardly
gave it a second thought."
"Tamlyn said you had a difficulty in believing it. Nevertheless, I feel
assured that it is so."
"Impossible, Dr. Knox."
"It seems impossible to you, I dare say. But that it is being done, I
would stake my head upon. Lady Jenkins is being stupefied in some way:
and I have brought you out here to tell you so, and to ask your
co-operation in tracing the culprit."
"But--I beg your pardon, Dr. Knox--who would give her anything of the
kind? You don't suspect me, I hope?"
"If I suspected you, my dear lady, I should not be talking to you as I
am. The person we must suspect is Lettice Lane."
"Lettice Lane!"
"I have reason to think it. Lettice Lane's antecedents are not, I fear,
quite so clear as they might be: though it is only recently I have known
this. At any rate, she is the personal attendant of Lady Jenkins; the
only one of them who has the opportunity of being alone with her. I must
beg of you to watch Lettice Lane."
Madame St. Vincent looked a little bewildered; perhaps felt so.
Stretching up her hand, she plucked one of the budding may-blossoms.
"Mr. Tamlyn hinted at Lettice also. I have always felt confidence in
Lettice. As to drugs--Dr. Knox, I don't believe a word of it."
"_Lady Jenkins is being drugged_," emphatically pronounced Dr. Knox.
"And you must watch Lettice Lane. If Lettice is innocent, we must look
elsewhere."
"Shall I tax Lettice with it?"
"Certainly not. You would make a good detective," he added, with a
laugh; "showing your hand to the enemy. Surely, Madame St. Vincent, you
must yourself see that Lady Jenkins is being tampered with. Look at her
state this morning: though she is not quite as bad as she is sometimes."
"I have known some old people sleep almost constantly."
"So have I. But theirs is simply natural sleep, induced by exhausted
nature: hers is not natural. She is stupefied."
"Stupefied with the natural decay of her powers," dissented madame.
"But--to drug her! No, I cannot believe it. And where would be the
motive?"
"That I know not. But I am sure I am not mistaken," he added decisively.
"You will watch Lettice Lane?"
"I will," she answered, after a pause. "Of course it _may_ be as you
say; I now see it. I will watch her to the very utmost of my ability
from this hour."