THE SUNSHINE OF LIFE
The discovery that Spruce was the murderer of Squire Evans, the
burning of Parley Wood, and the consequent death of the criminal, were
wholly unexpected events. They descended on the Cookley villagers like
so many bolts from the blue, and naturally caused a very great
commotion. So far as the woodland was concerned, nothing remained but
a vast area of grey ashes, wherein multitudinous smouldering stumps
pricked up here and there. Luckily the trees of the Grange park were
untouched, as the fire had not reached across the considerable space
which, like a wide roadway, divided Hench's property from the
miniature forest. Also, the violent wind blowing from the south had
swept the flames northward, long-side the brick wall girdling the
demesne. But considerable damage had been wrought, as Parley Wood was
dear to many artists, and they, as well as the villagers, lamented the
blotting out of this beauty-spot. But, as some people said, perhaps it
was just as well, since the murder of Madoc Evans had given the wood
an evil reputation. These philosophical individuals, however, were in
the minority.
Under the huge tree-trunk which had crushed him to death the body of
Cuthbert Spruce was found, burnt and disfigured almost beyond
recognition. But there was not the least difficulty in identifying the
remains of the wretched man, and he was duly buried in Cookley
churchyard. A large number of morbid sight-seers were attracted to the
ceremony, and there was much talk about the extraordinary events which
had led to his guilt being proved. Hench, naturally enough, was
anxious that the whole miserable story should be kept from the public,
but this was not possible. The Inspector who had been charged with the
arrest of Spruce advised the young man--for the clearing of his own
character--to allow all facts to become known. Therefore the
newspapers were filled with true accounts of all that had happened in
connection with the affair, from the time of his early conversation
with Madame Alpenny down to the moment when he staggered out of Parley
Wood to fall unconscious at Vane's feet. Owain was considerably shaken
by what he had undergone, both physically and mentally, so it was
natural that he should take some days to recover. He was burnt and
bruised; very much horrified by the appalling death of his old
schoolfellow; and greatly disturbed by the enforced publicity of the
whole dreadful business. It was fortunate that Mrs. Perage was at hand
to look after him, as she proved to be a very dragon to guard the
broken man from the curiosity of the public. Vane brought Hench to the
old lady's house, and there he remained in bed for quite a week to be
nursed back to health and strength by Gwen. Save the Inspector, who
advised him to make the facts of the case known to the world, he saw
no one but the old lady and the young one. Not even Jim Vane was
permitted to interview him.
The result of this judicious treatment on the part of Mrs. Perage was
obvious, for while the excitement was going on Hench remained secluded
in his sick-room, and was not worried with questions. By the time he
was able to get up, healed of his hurts and much calmer in mind, the
worst was over. Spruce lay in the churchyard, the newspapers had said
all they could say about the matter, and the nine days' wonder of the
whole awful business had come to an end. It only remained for Owain to
fulfil his promise to the Brackens; to reward the Jedd boys for the
clever way in which they had saved him; to take formal possession of
his property, and to marry his cousin. Then he could begin a new life,
and all the old troubles would be forgotten. Of course it required
decision and strength to deal with such matters, but, thanks to Gwen's
careful nursing, Owain was quite able to attend to the business. With
his descent into the drawing-room, wholly cured at the end of nine
days, the 'nine days' wonder came to a termination.
"Now we must sweep up the fragments," said Hench, who was rapidly
recovering his strength, although he still looked somewhat pale.
"Quite so," agreed Mrs. Perage, who looked more grim and masculine
than ever. "I have asked the fragments to come here to-day for the
sweeping."
"What do you mean?"
"My meaning is plain enough, young man!" she replied vigorously. "I
want all this disagreeable business concluded, so that it will not be
necessary to re-open it again. Then, as soon as possible, you must
arrange about getting the property, marry Gwen, and go for a year's
tour in Europe, or in the States, if you like. I don't care where you
go, so long as you get away."
"I don't know if Owain is strong enough to travel yet," said Gwen, who
was sitting beside the sofa holding her lover's hand.
"Fudge!" retorted Mrs. Perage, standing on the hearthrug in quite a
manly attitude, with her hands behind her back. "Don't make a
mollycoddle of the fellow, you silly girl. While he remains here,
everything will remind him of the horrors which have taken place. Let
him travel to forget, and then he can return to take up his work as
the Squire of Cookley. You must go with him, as he is sure to be
miserable without you."
"That is very certain!" said Hench, smiling.
"Well, then," cried Mrs. Perage argumentatively, "so young a girl
can't go with you as a chaperon, can she? Marry her in a couple of
weeks and then no one can say a word, even if you take her to the
North Pole."
"But my father has not been dead very long," murmured Gwen nervously.
"My dear, don't be a fool. God forbid that I should say a word against
your father, who has paid for his foolishness. But you owe him nothing
and you never got on with him. Then why sacrifice yourself to a
feeling which does not exist? Pfui!" Mrs. Perage rubbed her nose.
"Can't you understand that I am anxious to see the backs of you two
nuisances? I've had quite enough bother with you as it is."
Hench laughed outright, knowing that Mrs. Perage looked upon himself
and Gwen as her own children. "You wouldn't be happy without us," he
said gaily. "You would have no one to scold."
"Oh, there's always Jim Vane, at a pinch," said Mrs. Perage
good-humouredly. "But I daresay I shall miss you two brats. Babies,
that's what you are. As to scolding, there will be plenty of that when
you return. You are the Lord of the Manor, but I have much property in
Cookley also, so there will be ample for us to fight about. I want my
own way and so do you. Hum!" Mrs. Perage rubbed her hands. "There are
lively times ahead."
Both the young people looked at the tall, grim old Amazon with great
affection, as they recognized how much they owed her. Gwen
particularly loved her, as she had brought common-sense to bear on the
estrangement after the fatal interview in the churchyard with Madame
Alpenny. But that Mrs. Perage had acted so vigorously, Gwen saw
plainly enough that she and Owain might never have entirely understood
one another. Now they did, especially since the nine days' nursing had
drawn them together more rapidly. Never did a couple arrange to enter
into the bonds of matrimony with such an excellent knowledge of each
other's character. Mrs. Perage guessed what was passing in the girl's
mind and nodded approvingly.
"Trouble brings people together very quickly," she said briskly. "Time
is nothing and opportunity is everything. Owain has saved your life;
carefully nursed him back to health, so you comprehend one another a
thousand times better than if you had dawdled through a ten years'
courtship. You are both decent, also, my dears; quite different to
your fathers. It's the mothers' blood that tells, I expect. What do
you say, Hench?"
"Oh, don't call him Hench," said Gwen, with a shudder. "Let us leave
that false name behind with all the other trouble."
"Very good. What do you say, Evans?"
"I agree with you, Mrs. Perage. Gwen and I will get on capitally."
"You had better!" she threatened. "If I catch you beating her it's me
you'll have to reckon with. Ha!" She glanced out of the window.
"Here's Jim, the first of the fragments come to be swept into the
dustbin of oblivion."
"I hope not," said Owain, laughing. "I wish Jim to remain my very good
friend and be my best man."
"Of course he will be. And I will be the bridesmaid if Gwen is
sensible enough to ask me."
"You shall do whatever you like at the wedding," said Gwen, also
laughing, for she felt uncommonly happy.
"And afterwards also, my dear. I am fond of my own way; it's a great
fault of mine. Jim,"--Vane entered as she spoke,--"here you are at
last. There! I'm not fond of kisses. Go and talk to Evans yonder, and
ask him if you can kiss Gwen."
"Oh!" said Gwen in alarm, whereat every one laughed.
"Don't be frightened, Miss Evans," said Vane, with a smile on his lean
face. "I am quite sure that Owain yonder is now strong enough to punch
my head if I take Aunt Emma's advice. Well, old chap, how goes it? You
look much better and are quite a different man."
"I am, Jim. Hench has vanished for ever. Only Owain Evans remains."
"Well, I hope he'll be as good a chap as Hench was."
"Much better!" said Gwen resentfully. "I've improved him. He is no
longer to be a wanderer, but intends to settle down with me as the
Squire of the parish."
"After a year's travelling!" said Mrs. Perage sharply, and detailed
her scheme to her nephew, who quite approved.
"Better be off with the old life, Owain, before you take on with the
new," he said judicially. "Travel will heal all the old soreness, and
will place a barrier between the disagreeable past and the pleasant
future. Aunt Emma is a sensible woman."
"I always am!" said Aunt Emma. "Now, Jim, say what you have to say
about this trouble, and let us bury the same for ever."
"There isn't much to say," said Vane carelessly. "The newspapers have
dropped the matter, and everybody is forgetting the sensation. You
won't be bothered with reporters or photographers when you come
abroad, Owain. All the same, it is just as well that you are going
away."
"What does the Inspector say about Bottles' share in the business?"
"He wasn't very pleased, and gave both Bottles and his brother a good
talking to for having held their tongues for so long."
"I wonder why they did," murmured Mrs. Perage, rubbing her nose.
"My dear aunt, it was a game to both of them. Bottles having read
detective tales was burning to be a Sexton Blake or a Sherlock Holmes.
Only when he saw that miserable creature brought to book did the boy
realize that his comedy had turned into real tragedy. I've brought him
with me as you desired." Vane went to the door and beckoned to the
lad, who entered bashfully, to look with adoring eyes on his hero.
Hench called to him to come forward and shook him heartily by the
hand, thanking him for his great services.
"Oh, it ain't nothing, sir," said Bottles, with a glowing face as
crimson as his hair. "I'd do anything for you, as you've always been
kind to me. And it's been a rattling good game, anyhow."
"A sadly serious game, Bottles, I fear."
"Yes, sir." The lad turned pale, shivered, and swallowed something
with an effort, as he recalled the scene at the Bull Inn. "I didn't
think it was so bad till I saw that little cove's face. It wasn't me
who got him burnt, was it, sir?" he asked entreatingly.
"No! No! my boy. How he came to set the wood on fire, I don't know.
Perhaps he struck a match to see his way in the darkness. But we will
never know exactly what happened. You are not in any way to blame.
What made you suspect him?"
"I didn't suspect him at first, sir. It was Madame I thought was the
wrong 'un, as I told you. But when I saw that little cove sneaking
after her down to Cookley I watched him as well as her. Then I found
out he was talking a lot to mother and learned about the dress and the
wig. After that, it wasn't hard to twig his game. But I never thought
as he'd murder the old cove," said Bottles, shivering. "I turned sick
in the wood when I saw that knife go in."
"Oh, by the way, Bottles, Mrs. Tesk told me that she dismissed you for
stealing the knife."
"Yes, she did, sir. She said as I'd taken other things. But it was
Amelia, I was engaged to, as stole the things, and I couldn't give her
away. But I ain't going to make her my wife, sir," said Bottles
seriously. "She ain't what she should be in the way of honesty."
"Did she steal the knife also?"
"No, I think Mr. Spruce stole that; took it off the table one day, and
slipped it up his sleeve. He killed the old cove with it, as you know,
and left it in the body. I knowed it was Mrs. Tesk's carving-knife all
along."
"Does Mrs. Tesk know all this now?" asked Owain quickly. "Yes, sir.
Mother went and told her, though I didn't wish to split on Amelia,
who's only a gel after all. Mrs. Tesk said as she was sorry and asked
me to go back, which I have done, sir."
"Well, then, Bottles, I am going to take you away from there and send
you to school. Also I intend to settle a small income on your mother
so that she need not work any more at the Bijou Music-hall. Finally, I
will arrange with my lawyers to invest a sum of money for you so that
you may be able to start life with something in hand. What do you wish
to be?"
"I think if Bottles is wise he will be a detective," suggested Vane.
Bottles turned a shining face towards the speaker. "That's just what I
want to be, sir. I can do it, I'm sure."
"I think so also," remarked Mrs. Perage gruffly. "But I hope Peter
doesn't want to be one also. I can't have a juvenile Vidocq in my
house."
"Oh, Peter ain't got no ambitions, mum," said Bottles contemptuously.
"He's just as pleased as Punch to stay on with you and rise to be a
butler and a footman."
"I'll look after Peter," said Mrs. Perage, nodding briskly. "He has
also had a share in this business which has cleared up the mystery,
and he deserves to be rewarded. But see here," she added sharply, "why
didn't you tell the police immediately about the murder?"
"Because I wanted to see what that little cove would do, mum. I
guessed from his disguise that he intended to make out that Madame
Alpenny had murdered the old cove. But I didn't think he'd accuse Mr.
Hench there."
"Mr. Evans, Simon," corrected Gwen quickly. "That is his real name."
"I think I shall always be Hench to Bottles," said Owain, laughing.
"He can call me what he likes as he has done so much for me. But you
would have saved a lot of trouble, Bottles, if you had told the police
at once."
"So the Inspector said, sir," grinned the boy. "He gave me what-for,
he did. But I wanted to see the game out, sir."
Owain saw that Bottles would persist in regarding the whole dreadful
business as a game, in spite of its terrible termination, so he left
the subject alone. "But you might have guessed, my detective friend,
that Spruce would accuse me, as he wanted to get my money. He
committed the murder to trap me."
"I thought he'd do that through Madame Alpenny when you married Miss
Zara," was the boy's reply, promptly given. "As you'd never have liked
your mother-in-law to be hanged. You didn't mind my giving the address
I got from Peter to Madame Alpenny and the little cove, did you, sir?"
"I did when I was in the dark. But now I see that you did so
deliberately."
"It was part of the game," persisted Bottles coolly. "And as the
little cove had gone so far, I knew he'd go further. If I hadn't told
him and Madame of your address they might have asked the police where
you were."
"That suggestion doesn't do credit to your detective acumen, Bottles.
Had either of the two brought the police into the matter, they would
not have been able to get the expected money. Spruce was playing the
blackmail game."
"I see, sir." Bottles rubbed his red head. "Well, I've got something
to learn yet, I expect, as a 'tec, and I ain't above learning. But
thank you for helping me, sir, and for helping mother. She's a good
one, is mother, and gave me such a talking for not having spoke out
before."
"Between the Inspector and your mother, I daresay you have had a bad
time, Bottles," said Vane idly.
"You bet I have, sir. But it don't matter. I've enjoyed myself, I
have, in pulling the strings."
"It's more than I have done," said Owain languidly. "Good-bye,
Bottles. Go home and tell your mother of my intentions. Next week I'll
fulfill my promise, as soon as I can see my solicitors and settle
matters."
"And, Simon," said Mrs. Perage graciously, "you can go to the kitchen
and have your dinner. Here's a pound. Take Peter with you to town and
to see your mother."
"Thank you, mum; thank you, sir; thank everybody." And Bottles
disappeared with a happy grin, which made every one smile.
"Here comes Madame Alpenny and the Brackens," announced Vane, who
acted as a master of the ceremonies.
"I don't like that old woman to come under my roof," said Mrs. Perage,
with a frown. "She's a plotter and a schemer. But----"
"Oh, she's only one of the fragments which have to be swept up," said
Gwen in a lively tone. "I don't like her either; but I am so much
obliged to Zara that I am quite willing Owain should help the old
lady."
"Old lady, indeed," grumbled Mrs. Perage. "Old scamp, I call her. You
can deal with her yourselves. I'm going." And as the newcomers entered
the room, she went out swiftly through the conservatory.
Zara looked pale, her husband confused, and both advanced with rather
a shame-stricken air. Madame Alpenny, on the contrary, rushed forward
and took Owain's hand with effusion, beaming all over her harsh swart
face. Considering how she had behaved when they last met, the young
man was astonished by this friendly greeting. He scarcely knew what to
say; but it appeared there was no need for him to say anything. Madame
Alpenny did all the talking, so it was just as well that Mrs. Perage
had left the room. Had that Amazonian dame remained, there assuredly
would have been trouble.
"Ah, but I am delighted to see you looking so magnificent after your
illness, dear Monsieur!" cried Madame, clasping Owain's hand fondly
within her own. "You terrified me greatly, as I thought you would
perish. Ah, but it is good of the Heavens to preserve you to us."
The young man withdrew his hand as soon as he recovered from his
astonishment, and spoke very coldly. "You have changed your mind since
our last meeting!"
Madame Alpenny threw up her fat hands. "Ah, but what would you, my
dear sir? I was angered at losing so beautiful a son-in-law. I said
much that I have wept for saying. And to you also, in the churchyard,
Mademoiselle," she added, turning to Gwen, who was frigid, "I spoke
most wickedly. Ach! my dear young lady, you must forgive me for my
open nature. We are all now friends here, I hope."
She beamed all round the room, but there were no answering smiles.
Zara laid her hand on her mother's arm and drew her back. "I must ask
your pardon, Mr. Hench, for all the trouble which has been brought to
you," she said seriously.
"It was not your fault, Mrs. Bracken, nor that of your husband," said
Owain very quickly. "I have nothing but friendship and admiration for
you both, seeing the way in which you made the crooked straight
between us," and he glanced at Gwen fondly.
"Ah, what a good heart!" murmured the Hungarian lady, with her
handkerchief to her eyes. "A heart of gold!"
"Shut up!" growled Bracken to his mother-in-law, and twitched the old
head mantle which she still wore over the famous orange-spotted dress.
"I will not shut up, you rude man!" cried Madame Alpenny volubly. "Ah,
to think of what I have suffered at the hands of Mistare Spruce, now
happily deceased. He would have had me hanged!"
"Did he accuse you of committing the murder?" asked Vane sharply.
"But no. He was all sweetness and smiles. Yet, if Monsieur Hench had
married Zara, then this Mistare Spruce would have accused me. He laid
his plans to make me guilty. It was he, I find, who wrote the letter
asking me to go to Hampstead. He wished me to be unable to prove where
I was. If he had lived I should have put him in gaol," ended Madame,
with a frown.
"You nearly put Mr. Evans in gaol!" said Gwen icily.
"Mistare Evans. Ah, yes--the real name of Monsieur Hench. No, I would
not have put him in gaol, Mademoiselle. My talk was what you call--eh,
yes--bluff. I might have been his beloved mother had I accepted his
father's hand. Never would I have harmed him."
"Oh, I think you would when you had me in your power, Madame," said
Owain dryly. "Remember what you talked about in the churchyard."
"Bluff--all bluff, Monsieur."
"It would have been better had you acted fairly with me and told the
truth at our first conversation. Then I should have known that I was
Madoc Evans' heir and all this trouble would have been avoided. You
also would have been the richer for such honesty, Madame."
"Ah, but you will not turn from me now," said Madame in a wheedling
tone. "See, Monsieur Hench, it is through me you have money and marry
this sweet angel. I am poor; I am deserving. So give me----"
"Mr. Hench will give you nothing, mother," said Zara in a cold tone of
displeasure. "I came down here to say good-bye to him and to take you
out of his life. Mr. Hench,"--she faced round to Owain,--"my husband
and I are going to America, where I have obtained a good engagement.
My mother goes back to Hungary, and I will send her money to support
her. Therefore it will not be necessary for you to give me that
thousand pounds."
"I wish to give it to you as a mark of my esteem," insisted Hench, and
Gwen endorsed this speech.
"I do not wish my wife to take it," said Bracken, advancing to hold
out his hand. "Good-bye, Mr. Evans, we have been here long enough. We
shall always remember your kindness with gratitude."
Owain shook the extended hand. "But I wish you would take the money,
Bracken."
"Ah, but do!" cried Madame Alpenny, feverishly greedy. "I can double
it at cards. I am so lucky, I want to----"
"Come away, mother," interrupted Zara, dragging her towards the door.
"Mr. Hench will not give you a single penny!"
"Ingrate!" shouted Madame, turning at the door, out of which she was
going, held firmly by Zara and Bracken. "After all I have done. Ach!
the wickedness of the evil one. I gave him thousands, and he--he, the
beast--the-----" Here she was dragged into the hall by her scandalized
daughter, and those in the drawing-room heard her voice loudly
lamenting all the way down the avenue. In this manner was the
Hungarian lady rewarded for her scheming. She did not benefit in the
least.
"I'm glad she's gone," said Gwen, drawing a deep breath. "I don't like
her."
"Nor do I," said Owain, pulling the girl down beside him. "She nearly
got me into the dock. But I am bound to say that she ran an equal risk
from poor Spruce."
"Poor Spruce, indeed!" cried Vane, turning from the window where he
was watching the protesting Madame Alpenny being dragged down the
avenue. "Why say good of a man who did nothing but evil?"
"Don't be hard on him, Jim. After all, he has paid the penalty of his
crime by suffering a terrible death."
"You're a good chap, Owain, so I won't say another word. But never
mention his name to me again if you I can help."
"We'll never mention anything about the past if we can help," said
Gwen, as Owain slipped his arm round her. "Now all these people have
gone let us try and forget them."
"Oh, you'll forget right enough," said Vane, smiling. "When you marry
Owain you will think of nothing but him."
"He saved my life!" cried the future Mrs. Evans defiantly.
"In return you have saved mine," murmured Owain. "Had you not nursed
me back to life and love, where should I have been now? But the clouds
have disappeared, my dear, and now the sunshine of life is ours. In
three weeks we will get married quietly and go abroad for a year.
Afterwards we can return to take up our position here."
"And you will go back to your old home, Miss Evans," said Vane,
laughing. "Not much change about that."
"A great deal of change!" cried Gwen hotly. "While I lived there with
my poor father, the Grange was a house of hate; now it will be a
mansion of love."
"Quite so; you will be so happy that you won't want to see any one."
"Always you, Jim," said Owain, holding out his hand, which the
barrister took.
"And me also, I hope," said Mrs. Perage, entering unexpectedly from
the conservatory. "Hum! A touching tableau. The sweetheart, the angel
of the sweetheart, and the true-hearted friend. Fudge!"
"You don't mean that word!" cried Gwen.
"Perhaps I don't." Mrs. Perage rubbed her nose. "For to tell you the
truth, I don't know what the word means. I got it out of 'The Vicar of
Wakefield,' and it seemed useful. I should like to have used it to
that old woman who is screaming viciously all the way down the avenue.
Really, young man, you have some very queer friends."
"Well, I lived in Queer Street for a long time, you know!" said Owain,
smiling.
"You'll never live there again," whispered Gwen.
"Lucky Owain!" mocked Vane. "No more hunger and thirst, hard beds and
unpaid bills. You will henceforth lie in the lap of luxury."
"Hum!" said Mrs. Perage gruffly. "There is a good luncheon: a much
better one than you ever tasted in Queer Street, I'll be bound.
There's the gong."
Owain rose quickly and took Gwen's arm. "And here begins the new
life!" he said.
THE END
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