"FATE POINTS THE WAY."
"Well, how did you fare? How much longer is the old scoundrel going to
keep Beelzebub out of his own?"
These questions were addressed by Captain Ferris to his sister, who
had just got back from Stanbrook. He had been awaiting her return with
ill-concealed impatience. It seemed to him that she had been gone an
unconscionable time.
"My dear Wilton, I wish you wouldn't flurry one so. I will tell you
all there is to tell if you will give me time. But first of all, mix
me a little brandy-and-water."
Having taken off her outdoor things, inducted her feet into a pair of
roomy house-shoes, and planted herself in her favorite easy-chair Mrs.
Bullivant was ready to begin her narrative:
"In the first place, the rumors which have reached us from various
quarters about Mr. Cortelyon's amazing recovery are not a bit
exaggerated. I know for a fact that, at the time I saw him last, he
had been given up by both his doctors, and was not expected to last
the week out. If I ever saw a man with death in his face, it seemed to
me he was that man. When I left him I bade him (mentally) a final
farewell. So far so good. But what do I find to-day on reaching
Stanbrook? The same man, truly, and yet another. Not the Ambrose
Cortelyon whom I left at death's door, on whose face I saw already the
shadow of the tomb, but Ambrose Cortelyon as I remember him a number
of years ago. For him Time's dial has been put back a decade. Can you
wonder if, for a few moments, I was struck dumb with astonishment?
"I found him, not in his bedroom, but in his library, and how do you
think he was engaged? Why, in drawing up, with the help of his
secretary, a catalogue of the coins and medals which he has been
accumulating for the last forty years? When he turned to greet me his
voice was as firm and resonant as I ever remember it to have been.
Then his secretary left the room and we were alone.
"He held out a lean, withered hand, and his face lighted up with one
of his peculiar smiles. (When Mr. Cortelyon smiles you never can be
sure whether he is smiling with you, at you, or merely at some hidden
thought of his own.) 'Welcome, Onoria!' he began. 'I have been
expecting a visit from you for some time past, but better late than
not at all. You are surprised--he!--he! (now don't deny it, I can read
your face like a book) at finding me perched here and busying myself
with my favorite trivialities, when, if only I had behaved as ordinary
mortals are wont to do, I should have been shouldered to my last abode
weeks ago, and you would have been a considerably richer woman than
you are to-day. Well, well, nobody can be more surprised than I. But
why don't you sit down? I hate to have people standing about and
staring at me.'
"What I said in reply, when he gave me a chance of speaking, is not
worth repeating. As a matter of course, I explained how I had been
called from home and did not get back till yesterday, but he listened
without seeming to hear what I was talking about. Evidently he was
busy with his own thoughts.
"His next words had reference to Gavin. He wanted to know whether the
boy was quite well. When assured on the point he nodded his head and
seemed pleased. Then he lay back in his chair for a little while
without speaking, twiddling between his fingers, as if he loved it, a
large gold coin which looked as if it might have been minted a couple
of thousand years ago.
"At length he spoke: 'There is one matter, Onoria, about which I wish
to give you my assurance. It is this: that whether I die to-morrow or
not for five years to come, my will, as it now stands, will remain
unchanged. When once my mind is made up, it is made up for good; I
never go back from my decision. Consequently, you may make yourself
easy on that point. You know already that neither yourself nor your
son has been forgotten in the will; indeed, I will go so far as to
tell you this, that there is perhaps such a surprise in store for you
as you little wot of. And now let us talk of something else. I hear
the Browhead property is likely to come into the market in the course
of a few weeks. I wish you would drive as far some day soon, look over
it, and let me know what you think of it.'
"Nothing more passed that it would interest you to be told about, and
before long I took my leave, but not till Mr. Cortelyon had requested
me to visit him again on this day fortnight and take Gavin with me."
Captain Ferris's face was black as night. "Then it's quite evident the
old fox has made up his mind not to die just yet," he said. "And yet
it might be as well that he should not live too long. His promise
about the will may be taken for what it's worth. Invalids--and I
suppose Mr. Cortelyon may be counted one still--are notoriously
changeable, and any day may see your hopes dashed to the ground."
Mrs. Bullivant looked at him, but his eyes did not meet hers. There
was something behind his words, but she was not quite sure what it
was. "Of course I fully admit, between you and me, that it would be a
great relief if the Lord were to see fit to take the poor man to
Himself," she said, after a pause. "But what can I do? In a case of
this sort one is absolutely helpless." The Captain was trimming his
nails, and did not reply.
After waiting a moment or two, his sister said: "By the way, I have
something more to tell you. As I was driving back I overtook Ann
Thorpe, who used to be under-cook at Uplands, but left my service
three years ago to enter that of the Squire. I know her for a
talkative, simple-minded young woman, and the sight of her supplied me
with an idea which I at once proceeded to put into practice. Stopping
the carriage, I alighted, and bade Trotter drive on slowly and pick me
up at the toll-bar. Then I joined Ann, and we walked on together. It
was a lonely bit of road, and there was nobody to observe us. I was
desirous of putting certain questions to her which no one but an
inmate of the Hall could have answered to my satisfaction.
"With the questions themselves I need not trouble you. What I wanted
from Ann was a confirmation or otherwise of the all but incredible
news you picked up yesterday with reference to the man Dinkel and his
doings at the Hall. What you had heard might be merely one of those
idle rumors in which ignorant folk delight, but which they are never
at the trouble to sift; or there might be a substratum of truth in it,
but so overlaid with fiction that it would be next to impossible to
separate the two. Strange to say, your statement was confirmed by Ann
Thorpe in almost every particular.
"Mrs. Dinkel, the mother, has been acting as nurse to the Squire ever
since Tatham, his body-servant, had to resign his duties on account of
ill-health, and it was she who introduced her son at the Hall, but not
till her patient had been given up by his doctors and was hardly
expected to live from hour to hour.
"As you were told yesterday, this young Dinkel is said to have brought
with him a marvellous drug from the Far East, which will almost bring
dead people back to life. In any case, it seems certain that he has
effected several remarkable cures in the village and neighborhood, and
from the date of his first visit to the Hall the Squire began to mend.
It appears that he goes there every evening after dark, taking with
him a dose of his wonderful medicine, which he will allow no one to
administer but himself.
"I have told you already how changed I found the Squire from what he
was when I saw him last. It is a change which to me seems little less
than miraculous, and yet, so far as can be gathered, it is wholly due
to the man Dinkel. Dr. Banks, who has attended the Squire for years,
keeps on sending his physic as usual, but Ann Thorpe assures me that
the bottles are never as much as uncorked. From what I saw myself
to-day, and from what I gathered from Ann, it seems not unlikely that
the Squire may last for a year or two, or even longer. But life is
made up of crosses, and, however much one may try to convince oneself
that everything is ordered for the best, it is sometimes a little
difficult to do so."
Captain Ferris shut his penknife with a click. "And what would be the
consequence, so far as Mr. Cortelyon is concerned, in case of anything
happening to this fellow Dinkel?" he asked.
Mrs. Bullivant lifted her eyebrows. "Really, my dear Wilton, that is a
question which I have no means of answering."
"For all that, it is one which might be worth considering."
He got up, stretched himself, crossed to the window, and stood staring
out, whistling under his breath. His sister followed him with her
eyes. She could read between the lines of his character far more
clearly than any one else could.
"In such a case as you speak of, I should think it would be a very bad
thing for Mr. Cortelyon," she said after a pause, in a low voice.
"My own opinion exactly," he made answer, without turning round.
The days followed each other till a week had gone by, and Captain
Ferris was still at Uplands. Indeed, he knew of nowhere else to go to.
London was too hot to hold him; the bailiffs were looking for him high
and low. Here at any rate, he could lie by for awhile. But not for
long. Hour by hour the day was creeping nearer when the fatal bill for
five hundred pounds would fall due. After that not even Uplands would
be safe for him. He must put the Channel between himself and the
bloodhounds of the law.
[Illustration: "The body of the 'Man-witch' had been found shot
through the heart."]
Little further allusion was made either by his sister or himself to
the subject which loomed so largely in the thoughts of both. What
more, indeed, was there to be said? Talk for talking's sake was what
neither of them was given to indulge in. For them, just then, life
seemed to be at a standstill. They were waiting breathlessly, so to
speak, for the tidings which still delayed their coming. Captain
Ferris was out and about a great deal, putting a discreet question
here, and eliciting a morsel of information there, but all he heard
pointed to an unchanged state of affairs at the Hall. Any fine
afternoon Mr. Cortelyon might be seen driving about the country roads
in the shabby old chariot which dated from his grandfather's era, and
had in those days ranked as one of the grandest coaches in town.
"He'll live to be a hundert, you see if he doan't, sir," said one man
to whom the Captain had put a certain question.
Ferris turned away with a stifled oath.
It was on the afternoon of the tenth day after Mrs. Bullivant's return
from London that some startling news reached Uplands. It was brought
by the Tuxford carrier, who retailed it as a _bonne bouche_ to the
maids in the kitchen, whence, before long, it penetrated to the
drawing-room. The body of the "man-witch," Cornelius Dinkel, had been
found early that morning, shot through the heart, in Threeways Spinny.
So far nobody had been arrested for the crime.
Mrs. Bullivant was alone in the drawing-room when her maid brought her
the news. Gavin had lately had a pony given him, and his uncle had
taken him out for a ride on it. A sudden vertigo took the mistress of
Uplands almost before her maid had got halfway through her story. She
motioned for her salts, and for a few moments lay back in her chair
with closed eyes and white face. Then presently, with a faint, "I'm
better; you can go," she dismissed the girl.
It was not the news itself, startling though it was, which had had
such an effect on Mrs. Bullivant. It was a horrible suspicion which,
so to speak, had gripped her by the throat and refused to loosen its
hold of her.
Yesterday evening, as daylight was dying into dusk, her brother had
left the house without saying either where he was going or when he
might be looked for back. But she was used to his queer moods and
apparently purposeless comings and goings, and found it best to
question him as little as possible. She had hardly thought to see
anything more of him till breakfast time next morning. Great,
therefore, was her astonishment when, on crossing the hall a little
after eleven o'clock on her way to her bedroom, she suddenly met him
face to face. He had entered the house by a side door which could be
opened from the outside without disturbing any of the servants. That
he was both surprised and disconcerted by the meeting he showed
plainly, his intention having apparently been to reach his room unseen
by any one.
But it was not so much the fact of coming unexpectedly on her brother
as the appearance he presented that caused Mrs. Bullivant to start
back with a low cry of alarm. For his face was as colorless as that of
a corpse; his features were drawn and haggard; he looked at her with
eyes which she did not recognize as his, so strangely changed was
their expression; he was bareheaded, and his black hair, matted with
sweat, was all in disorder; while his chest rose and fell pantingly
like that of one who had outspent himself with running. Finally, both
his boots and his clothes were bespattered with mud, for much rain had
fallen in the course of the day.
"Great heavens! Wilton, what ails you? What has happened to you?"
cried Mrs. Bullivant.
"For God's sake not so loud! Such an adventure!" he panted. "Set upon
by two ruffians in a lonely part of the road. One of 'em I managed to
knock over with a lefthander--then took to my heels. If I hadn't
they'd have bludgeoned my brains out. Two to one, you know."
"What a narrow escape for you! But what has become of your hat?"
"I've not lost it, have I?" he gasped, while a great terror leapt into
his eyes. "If so, I'm lost too!" A moment later his expression
changed. "What a fool I am!" he exclaimed with a ghastly attempt at a
smile. "I've got it all the while. It fell off while I was running and
as the rascals were not far behind me I made a dash at it and crammed
it into one of my pockets. It will look a pretty object to-morrow,
_sans doute_. But now to bed, for I'm dog-tired."
"Shall I send you up some hot water and----"
"Curse it all, no! I want no eye but yours to see me to-night." He
glared at her for a moment as if he was about to strike her. Then with
a shrug and a sudden dropping of his hands, he said. "Forgive me,
Onny, I'm not myself to-night." And with that he passed her and went
swiftly upstairs, and presently she heard the key turned in the lock
of his room.
It was the recollection of this scene which shook her with such a
terrible fear this afternoon. What had her brother meant by saying
that if his hat were lost he was lost too? Supposing he had lost it
and it had afterwards been found, what then? And why had he been so
anxious that no eyes save hers should see him on his return? Was there
any truth in the story of his encounter with the two men? But, above
all, had he had any hand in last night's tragedy? That he was utterly
unscrupulous she had long known, and she divined, without knowing,
that in his nature there were dark unsounded depths in which the most
ghastly secret might be hidden up forever. She was only too well aware
by what desperate reasons her brother was urged to wish Dinkel out of
the way. To him it might, and most likely would, mean all the
difference between salvation and ruin.
She waited his coming with a quaking heart. She was sitting in a mixed
light, that of the dying afternoon and that thrown out by the glowing
embers on the hearth, when he entered the room. Having shut the door,
he stood there with the handle in his hand, without advancing. "Well,
have you heard the news?" he asked abruptly in a high, harsh voice,
very different from his usual smooth cultivated tones. "Dinkel's
dead--shot through the heart last night, presumably when on his way
back from Stanbrook. Body found early this morning by some hedgers on
their way to work. What will happen now, I wonder? There's the rub,
both for you and me."
"I had already heard. The Tuxford carrier brought the news about an
hour ago."
"Had I known that I needn't have hurried back, as I did, on purpose to
tell you. But no matter."
"Have any traces of the--the perpetrator of the crime been discovered,
or have they any idea where to look for him?"
"'Pon my soul, I don't know. I never asked. 'Twas a point that had no
interest for me. But now I'll go upstairs and make myself presentable,
and join you presently over a cup of tea. We have had a famous
scamper, the boy and I. But he will be with you in a minute or two."
After tea they played ecarté for a couple of hours, and never had Mrs.
Bullivant seen her brother more cheerful and at his ease. She went to
bed not knowing what to think.