Without a moment's hesitation I struggled into an overcoat, slipped on a
golf cap and sped downstairs to the room below my own, where I found one
of the long windows open, and through it stepped quickly out upon the
gravel.
I intended to discover the motive of this meeting and the identity of
her companion--evidently some secret lover whose existence she had
concealed from us all. Yet to follow her straight across the lawn in
the open light was to at once court detection. Therefore I was
compelled to take a circuitous course, hugging the shadows always, until
I at length reached the shrubbery, where I halted, listening eagerly.
There was no sound beyond the low creaking of the branches and the
dismal sighing of the wind. A distant train was passing through the
valley, and somewhere away down in the village a collie was barking. I
could not, however, distinguish any human voices. Slowly I made my way
through the fallen leaves until I had skirted the whole of the
shrubbery, and then I came to the conclusion that they must have passed
through it by some bypath and gone out into the park.
My task was rendered more difficult because the moon was not
sufficiently overcast to conceal my movements, and I feared that by
emerging into the open I might betray my presence.
But Mabel's action in coming there to meet this man, whoever he was,
puzzled me greatly. Why had she not met him in London? I wondered.
Could he be such an unpresentable lover that a journey to London was
impossible? It is not an uncommon thing for a well-born girl to fall in
love with a labourer's son any more than it is for a gentleman to love a
peasant girl. Many a pretty girl in London to-day has a secret
admiration for some young labourer or good-looking groom on her father's
estate, the seriousness of the unspoken love lying in the utter
impossibility of its realisation.
With ears and eyes open I went on, taking advantage of all the shadow I
could, but it seemed as though, having nearly five minutes' start of me,
they had taken a different direction to that which I believed.
At last I gained the comparative gloom of the old beech avenue which led
straight down to the lodge on the Dilwyn road, and continued along it
for nearly half-a-mile, when suddenly my heart leaped for joy, for I
distinguished before me the two figures walking together and engaged in
earnest conversation.
My jealous anger was in an instant aroused. Fearing that they might
hear my footsteps on the hard frozen road I slipped outside the trees
upon the grass of the park, and treading noiselessly was soon able to
approach almost level with them without attracting attention.
Presently, on the old stone bridge across the river which formed the
outlet of the lake, they halted, when, concealing myself behind a tree,
I was enabled, by the light of the moon which had fortunately now grown
brighter, to clearly see the features of Mabel's mysterious companion.
I judged him to be about twenty-eight, an ill-bred, snub-nosed,
yellow-haired common-looking fellow, whose hulking form as he leaned
against the low parapet was undoubtedly that of an agriculturist. His
face was hard-featured and prematurely weather-beaten, while the cut of
his clothes was distinctly that of the "ready-made" emporium of the
provincial town. His hard felt hat was cocked a little askew, as is
usual with the yokel as well as with the costermonger when he takes his
Sunday walk.
As far as I could observe he seemed to be treating her with
extraordinary disdain and familiarity, addressing her as "Mab" and
lighting a cheap cigarette in her presence, while on her part she seemed
rather ill at ease, as though she were there under compulsion rather
than by choice.
She had dressed herself warmly in a thick frieze driving cape and a
close-fitting peaked cap which, drawn over her eyes, half-concealed her
features.
"I really can't see your object, Herbert," I heard her distinctly argue.
"What could such an action possibly benefit you?"
"A lot," the fellow answered, adding in a rough, uncouth voice which
bore the unmistakable brogue of the countryman, "What I say I mean. You
know that, don't yer?"
"Of course," she answered. "But why do you treat me in this manner?
Think of the risks I run in meeting you here to-night. What would
people think if it were known?"
"What do I care what people think!" he exclaimed carelessly. "Of course
you've got to keep up appearances--fortunately, I ain't."
"But you surely won't do what you threaten?" she exclaimed in a voice of
blank dismay. "Remember that our secrets have been mutual. I have
never betrayed you--never in any single thing."
"No, because you knew what would be the result if you did," he laughed
with a sneer. "I never trust a woman's word--I don't. You're rich now
the old man's dead, and I want money," he said decisively.
"But I haven't any yet," she replied. "When will you have some?"
"I don't know. There are all sorts of law formalities to go through
before, so Mr. Greenwood says."
"Oh! a curse on Greenwood!" the fellow burst forth. "He's always with
you up in London, they say. Ask him to get you some money from the
lawyers. Tell him you're hard up--got to pay bills, or something. Any
lie will do for him."
"Impossible, Herbert," she answered, trying to remain calm. "You must
really be patient."
"Oh, yes, I know!" he cried. "Call me good dog and all that. But that
kind of game don't suit me--you hear? I've got no money, and I must
have some at once--tonight."
"I haven't any," she declared.
"But you've got lots of jewellery and plate and stuff. Give me some of
that, and I can sell it easily in Hereford to-morrow. Where's that
diamond bracelet the old man gave you for a present last birthday--the
one you showed me?"
"Here," she replied, and raised her wrist, showing him the beautiful
diamond and sapphire ornament her father had given her, the worth of
which was two hundred pounds at the very least.
"Give me that," he said. "It'll last me a day or two until you get me
some cash."
She hesitated, evidently indisposed to accede to such a request and more
especially as the bracelet was the last present her father had made her.
Yet, when he repeated his demands in a more threatening tone, it became
plain that the fellow's influence was supreme, and that she was as
helpless as a child in his unscrupulous hands.
The situation came upon me as an absolute revelation. I could only
surmise that a harmless flirtation in the years before her affluence had
developed into this common fellow presuming upon her good nature, and,
finding her generous and sympathetic, he had now assumed an attitude of
mastery over her actions. The working of the rustic mind is most
difficult to follow. To-day in rural England there is so very little
real gratitude shown by the poor towards the rich that in the country
districts, charity is almost entirely unappreciated, while the wealthy
are becoming weary of attempting to please or improve the people. Your
rustic of to-day, while perfectly honest in his dealings with his own
class, cannot resist dishonesty when selling his produce or his labour
to the rich man. It seems part of his religion to get, by fair means or
by foul, as much as he can out of the gentleman, and then abuse him in
the village ale-house and dub him a fool for allowing himself to be thus
cheated. Much as I regret to allege it, nevertheless it is a plain and
bitter truth that swindling and immorality are the two most notable
features of English village life at the present moment.
I stood listening to that strange conversation between the millionaire's
daughter and her secret lover, immovable and astounded.
The arrogance of the fellow caused my blood to boil. A dozen times as
he sneered at her insultingly, now cajoling, now threatening, and now
making a disgusting pretence of affection, I felt impelled to rush out
and give him a good sound hiding. It was, indeed, only because I
recognised that in this affair, so serious was it, I could only assist
Mabel by remaining concealed and using my knowledge of it to her
advantage that I held my tongue and stayed my hand.
Without doubt she had, in her girlish inexperience, once believed
herself in love with the fellow, but now the hideousness of the present
situation was presented to her in all its vivid reality and she saw
herself hopelessly involved. Probably it was with a vain hope of
extricating herself that she had kept the appointment; but, in any case,
the man whom she called Herbert was quick to detect that he held all the
honours in the game.
"Now come," he said at last, in his broad brogue, "if you really ain't
got no money on you, hand over that bracelet and ha' done with it. We
don't want to wait 'ere all night, for I've got to be in Hereford first
thing in the morning. So the least said the better."
I saw that, white to the lips, she was trembling in fear of him, for she
shrank from his touch, crying--
"Ah, Herbert, it is too cruel of you--too cruel--after all I've done to
help you. Have you no pity, no compassion?"
"None," he growled. "I want money and must have it. In a week you must
pay me a thousand quid--you hear that, don't you?"
"But how can I? Wait and I'll give it to you later--indeed, I promise."
"I tell you I ain't going to be fooled," he cried angrily. "I mean to
have the money, or else I'll blow the whole thing. Then where will you
be--eh?" And he laughed a hard triumphant laugh, while she shrank back
pale, breathless and dismayed.
I clenched my fists, and to this moment I do not know how I restrained
myself from springing from my hiding-place and knocking the fellow down.
At that moment I could have killed him where he stood.
"Ah!" she cried, her hands clasped to him in a gesture of supplication,
"you surely don't mean what you say, you can't mean that, you really
can't! You'll spare me, won't you? Promise me!"
"No, I won't spare you," was his brutal reply, "unless you pay me well."
"I will, I will," she assured him in a low, hoarse voice, which was
eminently that of a desperate woman, terrified lest some terrible secret
of hers should be exposed.
"Ah!" he sneered with curling lip, "you treated me with contempt once,
because you were a fine lady, but I am yet to have my revenge, as you
will see. You are now mistress of a great fortune, and I tell you quite
plainly that I intend you to share it with me. Act just as you think
best, but recollect what refusal will mean to you--exposure!"
"Ah!" she cried desperately, "to-night you have revealed yourself in
your true light! You brute, you would, without the slightest
compunction, ruin me!"
"Because, my dear girl, you are not playing straight," was his cool,
arrogant reply. "You thought that you had most ingeniously got rid of
me for ever, until to-night here I am, you see, back again, ready to--
well, to be pensioned off, shall we call it? Don't think I intend to
allow you to fool me this time, so just give me the bracelet as a first
instalment, and say no more." And he snatched at her arm while she, by
a quick movement, avoided him.
"I refuse," she cried with a fierce and sudden determination. "I know
you now! You are brutal and inhuman, without a speck of either love or
esteem--a man who would drive a woman to suicide in order to get money.
Now you have been released from prison you intend to live upon me--your
letter with that proposal is sufficient proof. But I tell you here
to-night that you will obtain not a penny more from me beyond the money
that is now paid you every month."
"To keep my mouth closed," he interrupted. And I saw an evil, murderous
glitter in his black eyes.
"You need not keep it closed any longer," she said in open defiance.
"Indeed, I shall tell the truth myself, and thus put an end to this
brilliant blackmailing scheme of yours. So now you understand," she
added firmly, with a courage that was admirable.
A silence fell between them for a moment, broken only by the weird cry
of an owl.
"Then that is absolutely your decision, eh?" he inquired in a hard
voice, while I noticed that his face was white with anger and chagrin as
he recognised that, if she told the truth and faced the consequence of
her own exposure, whatever it might be, his power over her would be
dispelled.
"My mind is made up. I have no fear of any exposure you may make
concerning me."
"At any rate give me that bracelet," he demanded savagely, with set
teeth, grasping her arm and trying by force to undo the clasp.
"Let me go!" she cried. "You brute! Let me go! Would you rob me, as
well as insult me?"
"Rob you!" he muttered, his coarse white face wearing a dangerous
expression of unbridled hatred, "rob you!" he hissed with a ford oath,
"I'll do more. I'll put you where your cursed tongue won't wag again,
and where you won't be able to tell the truth!"
And, unfortunately, before I was aware of his intentions he had seized
her by the wrists and, with a quick movement, forced her backwards so
violently against the low parapet of the bridge that for a moment they
stood locked in a deadly embrace.
Mabel screamed on realising his intentions, but next second with a vile
imprecation he had forced her backwards over the low wall, and with a
loud splash she fell helplessly into the deep, dark waters.
In an instant, while the fellow took to his heels, I dashed forward to
her rescue, but, alas! too late, for, as I peered eagerly down into the
darkness, I saw to my dismay that the swirling icy flood had closed over
her, that she had disappeared.