A BOLD OFFER.
Lady Corsoon duly arrived and duly complained of the length of the
journey. The strain to which her nerves were subjected on account of
the suspense she suffered regarding The Spider's blackmailing,
rendered her somewhat irritable, and those around felt the effects of
her temper. But Lucy, having a singularly placid nature, invariably
contrived to soothe down her mother's ruffled plumes, while the two
men, knowing what Lady Corsoon felt, paid her every attention. The
next morning, therefore, she felt somewhat better and acknowledged
that The Grange was endurable. But she resolutely refused to call
straightway at Gerby Hall.
"I shall go to-morrow," she said when Towton urged the visit. "My
nerves must have time to recover from the journey into these wilds.
Besides, Ida should call and see me, since I am the elder."
"But I wish you to persuade Ida to take up her quarters here while you
remain," pleaded the Colonel. "She is infatuated with Miss Hest and
will, I am certain, not come here of her own accord."
"I'm sure I never could understand what Ida saw in that woman," said
Lady Corsoon fretfully. "Miss Hest is nice enough and quite agreeable,
but nothing out of the ordinary. When my poor, dear brother died Ida
should have accepted my guardianship. I offered twice to look after
her, but she refused--because of this Hest woman, I presume."
"You must remember, Lady Corsoon, that Ida is a spoilt child----"
"Spoilt!" interrupted the lady; "I should think so. Many a time have I
implored Martin not to ruin her; but I might as well have spoken to a
block of stone. You will have no easy task to manage her when you make
her your wife, Colonel."
"I am quite certain that when Ida is removed from the companionship of
Miss Hest I shall be able to manage her with the greatest ease," said
Towton emphatically; "but the question is how to get her away. I look
to you to use your influence, dear lady."
"Mine? Why, I never had the least influence with that headstrong girl,
my dear Colonel. I'll go to-morrow and give her a talking to, and
perhaps I may be able to induce her to return with me to London. But
while she is the mistress of ten thousand a year she can defy me. Now,
if The Spider can give me that fortune, as he declares, I shall soon
bring Ida to see that she must behave like a sensible human being. I
suppose Mr. Vernon told you of the letter I received? He hinted as
much to me, though I think he should have held his tongue."
"He did hold his tongue about your business, more or less, Lady
Corsoon. It was Mr. Maunders who let slip the secret."
"And what business is it of Mr. Maunders', I should like to know?"
asked Lady Corsoon, putting up her lorgnette and looking haughtily at
Towton.
"This much--that he wrote the letter."
"What!" Lady Corsoon bounded from her seat. "Then he is The Spider?"
"No," said the Colonel prudently, who did not intend to tell his
companion more than he could help, as he placed no reliance on her
tongue; "but, knowing from yourself about the first letter you
received from The Spider, and anxious to marry your daughter, he made
use of the blackmailer's scheme to secure his own ends."
"What audacity! Can he--Mr. Maunders, I mean--really place me in
possession of Martin's money?"
"I can't answer that for the moment," replied the Colonel carefully,
"but at any rate by promising to do so he hoped to marry Miss Lucy."
"He shall never do that," cried Lady Corsoon energetically; "unless,
of course, he keeps his promise. Lucy must save me from----" She
hesitated.
"Mr. Maunders told me about your losses at bridge, and----"
"And that I pawned certain family jewels," finished the lady. "Well, I
never! To think he should discuss my affairs in this way. I have been
a fool: I don't deny that I have been a fool, but there was no need
for Mr. Maunders to let the whole world know."
"The world is only represented by myself and Vernon," said the Colonel
drily, "and your secret is safe with us."
"But Mr. Maunders----"
"He has his hands full. You won't see him again."
"But in that case his promise----"
"My dear Lady Corsoon, I do not think he will be able to keep his
promise, for certain reasons which I need not tell you now. Better
give your consent to the marriage of Vernon and Miss Lucy. They love
one another and he will soon have a title and an income."
"Did you invite me down with Lucy to forward that marriage?" asked
Lady Corsoon with sudden suspicion.
"Partly," answered Towton coolly, "and partly because I wished to
enlist you on my side as regards Ida."
"Oh, I am willing to help you, but as to Mr. Vernon--he is with Lucy
now?"
"Yes. They have gone for a walk."
Lady Corsoon frowned. "Lucy could make a much better match," she said
hesitating.
"With Constantine Maunders, for instance."
"At all events, he promises me ten thousand a year."
"On what grounds?"
"I don't know."
"Then, believe me, he is only bluffing."
"But he knows about my pawning of the jewels, and even if this horrid
Spider creature holds his tongue Mr. Maunders may tell Sir Julius.
Then heaven only knows what would happen; Julius is so impossible."
"I shall engage that Maunders remains silent if you will give your
consent to the marriage. After all, Miss Lucy would be Lady Vernon."
"She could be a countess if she played her cards well. I really don't
know what to say; I am in the dark, so to speak. Wait until I see Ida
and then I may form an opinion."
"How can Ida help you to do so?"
"She may be able to tell me if there was a will in my favour. I really
believe from that letter of The Spider's--well, of Mr. Maunders',
since you say he wrote it--that Martin left the money to me and that
Ida destroyed the will. I'm sure she's capable of it."
"Permit me to remind you, Lady Corsoon," said the Colonel sternly,
"that Miss Dimsdale is to be my wife and that I shall not permit
anyone to cast a slur on her character. If the money is left to you
she will hand it over."
"What, ten thousand a year?" said Lady Corsoon beaming. "Oh, she would
be a good girl if she did that. Well, I shall wait and see. In the
meantime I do not mind Mr. Vernon being with Lucy."
Colonel Towton shrugged his square shoulders. He thought that the lady
was making a virtue of necessity, as the young couple had taken French
leave after breakfast and had vanished. And had Lady Corsoon been
gifted with supernatural sight she would scarcely have been pleased
had she seen the two sitting by Bolly Dam with their arms round one
another. Also Lucy, the meek, the amiable, the well-conducted, was
kissing Vernon in the boldest manner and swearing that she would marry
him and him only.
"Mother wants me to marry Mr. Maunders," said Lucy, snuggling up close
to her lover, "and papa desires me to become the wife of Lord
Stratham. But I shall only marry you, darling, you. Arthur," she
pressed her cheek against his breast and looked up into his eyes, "run
away with me."
"Would you elope if I asked you?"
"I have just offered to elope without your asking me," she replied
nodding. "I can't speak plainer, can I? Oh, dear me," she sighed,
resting her head on her lover's shoulder, "how weary I am of
everything. Papa is always busy in the City and has hardly a word to
say to me; mamma has some secret worry about which she will not speak,
and I am left to find my own amusements. Do take me away, Arthur.
Isn't Gretna Green somewhere about these parts? Let us go there and
get married."
"No, dear. I don't think there will be any need for a runaway match,
unless it is the romance of the thing that you desire. Colonel Towton
has promised to speak to your mother, and I have an idea that he will
gain her consent to our marriage."
"She consented before," pouted Miss Corsoon, "and then changed her
mind. Why, I'm sure I don't know. It's much better to get married
quietly and then she would have to forgive us."
"My dear," said Vernon firmly, "I prefer to act honourably and openly.
From a letter I received this morning it seems that my poor uncle
cannot live much longer. In a month at the latest I shall be in
possession of the property and the title; then I shall see your father
and demand your hand. He likes me, and when he learns of my new
circumstances I am sure he will consent. With him on our side your
mother will be quite willing to accept me as her son-in-law."
"I'll do whatever you say, dearest," whispered Lucy fondly, "only I'll
never marry anyone but you. So there!" and she gave him a kiss which
her lover promptly returned. Then they sat hand in hand, looking at
the view, and too happy to speak further. Love's silence is more
eloquent than Love's speech.
Before them the reservoir rippled under the breath of a gentle wind,
and spread like a vast blue lake toward the purple of the moorlands.
Immediately in front of the lovers the massive wall of the dam
stretched from side to side of the valley, which here was extremely
narrow. Looking at that vast body of water, Vernon could not help
doubting the strength of the protecting wall as the wavelets
almost lipped its top. There was a channel on the hither side with
flood-gates, but it seemed too small to carry off much superfluous
water. In summer time the dam was no doubt all that could be desired
in the way of strength, but when the winter snows melted on the
moorlands it appeared probable--at least, Vernon, knowing nothing of
engineering, thought so--that the water would overflow the dam. In
that case it might break down the wall, and then the young man
shuddered to think of what would happen. The whole contents of the
lake, narrowed by the gorge, would shoot down the three odd miles of
the valley with the force and condensation of a hose, and assuredly
would sweep it clean from end to end.
"To make things safe," said Vernon aloud and giving speech to his
thoughts, "there should be two channels for waste water, each broader
than the single one over there. I'm sure there will be a catastrophe
some winter or spring."
"Oh!" Lucy pouted again. "I speak of love and you bother yourself over
this silly old puddle."
"It would prove to be anything but a puddle if the dam broke," said
Vernon doubtfully. "I hope Towton will take steps to make things
safer. Bowderstyke Village and Gerby Hall would be smashed to pieces
if this vast body of water discharged itself without leave."
And he stared anxiously at the placid lake.
Miss Corsoon, rather annoyed by this unlover-like conduct, rose
quickly and consulted a tiny jewelled watch pinned to her blouse.
"It's nearly luncheon-time," she said with an affectation of
indifference, "and I am so hungry."
"Hungry?" Vernon caught her hands, "when we are together."
"I can't live on love, and you keep talking of this stupid waterworks.
We really must go home, Arthur, as mamma will be wondering what has
become of us. You don't wish to get me scolded?"
"I'll bear half of the scolding. Hullo! Who is this?"
He shaded his eyes with his hand and looked across the reservoir to
where a tall figure appeared on the broad parapet of the dam. The
figure--it was that of a man--came swiftly across, but midway caught
sight of the lovers. For one minute the stranger stared as if
thunderstruck, and then retreated as quickly as he had appeared. Lucy
caught hold of her lover's coat to prevent his following.
"Where are you going, Arthur? Who is it?"
"Hokar," said Vernon, greatly excited but pausing for a moment. "It's
the Hindoo who tried to strangle me and the Colonel."
"What?" Lucy's voice sounded so terrified that he turned at once to
apologise and excuse himself. "Nothing, dear; nothing. But this Hokar
is a dangerous native of India whom I wish to get hold of. He went
down into the valley on the other side, so I must----"
"Don't leave me! don't leave me!" wailed Lucy, desperately detaining
him. "I wish you wouldn't frighten me, Arthur. Come home at once."
"But I want to follow Hokar. It is necessary----"
"It is necessary to see me home," insisted Miss Corsoon firmly. "I
won't be left alone with wild Indians and strangling people."
Vernon was torn between his desire to stay with Lucy and a feeling
that it was his duty to follow Hokar. He wished to meet the Hindoo
face to face and force him to speak. As he was the servant of
Maunders--masquerading as Diabella--he probably knew something, if not
indeed a great deal, about Hest, and a few questions might intimate
the villain's whereabouts. But the man had already vanished and it
would be difficult to trace him, although Vernon had a shrewd
suspicion that he was to be found at Gerby Hall. For a moment the
young man hesitated between duty and pleasure, then, under the
reproachful gleam of Lucy's eyes, pleasure gained the victory. Vernon
escorted Miss Corsoon back to The Grange, comforting himself with the
reflection that it was necessary to consult Colonel Towton before
taking any steps to bring Hokar to book. All the way home Lucy chatted
in a lively manner, but, preoccupied with his own thoughts, Vernon was
somewhat absentminded, a cause of offence to the girl. But how could
any man give way to the ruling passion of love when one of the
villains concerned in a dangerous conspiracy against society was in
the neighbourhood? Vernon wondered how Hokar had come to these
solitudes and how Hest had succeeded in lulling his sister's
suspicions, so that she might receive the man. For, on the face of it,
Hokar must be staying at Gerby Hall.
After a merry luncheon, during which Lady Corsoon, bearing in mind her
late conversation with her host, was very gracious to Vernon, the
ladies departed to their boudoir, the mother to rest and the daughter
to write letters. Lucy, indeed, wished to call and see Ida, but Lady
Corsoon refused to let her go alone, and again expressed her
determination not to pay a visit until the next day. Lucy, always
anxious to keep her parent in a good temper, was obliged to fall in
with this arrangement, and followed Lady Corsoon out of the room.
It could be easily seen that the wily wife of the millionaire was
unwilling to leave her daughter in the too fascinating society of
Vernon, and evidently had made up her mind not to consent to the match
until she was certain that her late brother's fortune would _not_ come
into her hands.
Left alone with the Colonel, the young man related how unexpectedly
Hokar had appeared and disappeared on the dam. Towton listened
frowningly and considered awhile before expressing his opinion.
"There's something suspicious about all this," he said at length.
"Here is Miss Jewin, the very woman who tricked you into becoming a
prisoner at that West Kensington house, and here also is Hokar, the
Hindoo, so closely connected with Maunders, and, for all we know, with
Hest."
"What do you make of it all?"
"It's a gang of thieves," said Towton unhesitatingly. "Hokar, Bahadur,
Miss Jewin, Maunders, and Hest are all banded together under the
leadership of the last as The Spider. He has vanished, and so has
Maunders, so I expect he sent down the Hindoos here in order that they
might be out of the way."
"And Miss Jewin?"
"She has always been the housekeeper at Gerby Hall, Vernon. But I
daresay Hest got her to come to London to be used as a tool, knowing
that he could trust her. She is a very old and faithful woman, and I
believe was the nurse of both Hest and his sister. The people
hereabouts call her an old witch, and she is credited with all manner
of occult powers."
"I can understand Miss Hest not being suspicious of Miss Jewin," said
Vernon thoughtfully, "as she may have gone to London ostensibly for a
trip and then would have returned in the ordinary course of things.
But Miss Hest must surely wonder at the presence of Hokar. I am bound
to say that I did not see Bahadur."
"He may be here, or he may not," rejoined the Colonel; "We'll soon
find out. To-morrow I go with Lady Corsoon to see Ida, and then I can
warn Miss Hest of the character of the man. If, indeed, she doesn't
know it."
"Towton, you surely don't suspect Miss Hest of knowing anything about
her brother's wickedness?"
"No, I don't say that. And yet it is strange the Hindoo should be
there. And why should he be lurking about the Bolly Dam? I shall go
myself to-morrow, after I have seen Miss Hest, to make an
examination."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that a crafty devil like Hokar doesn't take walks for the
benefit of his health, and that he may be tampering with the
dam--perhaps by order of Francis Hest."
"In that case, why not have the dam examined to-day?"
"There is no immediate hurry. Hokar will find it no easy task to break
down that gigantic wall, if that is his aim. Besides, the Vicar is
calling this afternoon to pay his respects to Lady Corsoon. I wish to
have a chat with him on the subject of Hest, and to learn what he
thinks of him."
"What can he think, but that Hest is a genuine philanthropist?"
"I daresay Hest is one person here and another in London. However, it
will do no harm to collect what information we can concerning him.
To-morrow you can come with Lady Corsoon and her daughter to see Ida,
and I shall go also. Afterwards you can inspect the dam."
"Won't you come, too?" asked Vernon.
"No. The fact is, I intend to ride to Gatehead to-morrow afternoon. I
shall leave you and the ladies at Gerby Hall. My steward wants to see
me about some property which requires looking after in one of the near
villages. It will be easy for me to ride there and look into the
matter myself. I can trust you to amuse my guests."
Thus it was arranged, and Vernon put all questions concerning Hokar
and Bolly Dam out of his head. Lucy managed to evade the watchfulness
of her mother when that good lady fell asleep, and the lovers had a
stolen half hour all to themselves until the arrival of the vicar.
After that came tea and gossip, and a very pleasant afternoon ended
gleefully. But the most important event of the next twelve hours
happened after dinner, when the Colonel was called out of the
drawing-room to see a visitor. He left Vernon to amuse Lady
Corsoon and her daughter and took his way to the library, where the
visitor--who had not sent in any name--was waiting for him. To
Towton's surprise, the stranger proved to be Frances Hest.
"My dear lady, why did you not join us in the drawing-room?" he asked
hospitably. "I'm sure the surprise would be a pleasant one."
"Not to Lady Corsoon," said Frances quietly. "She is not over fond of
me. Besides, I have come to see you privately and on a most important
matter."
"Ida," cried the Colonel anxiously. "Is she ill?"
"No, no! Set your mind at rest about Ida. She has not changed since
you saw her yesterday. She doesn't know that I am here, nor does any
one else; not even your servant, as I gave no name when I was
admitted. Is the door closed?" and she cast a searching, nervous look
around.
"This room is perfectly private," said Towton, noting that she looked
anxious and haggard. "Nothing mentioned here can be heard. I hope
nothing is wrong."
Frances sat down and sighed heavily. "This much is wrong," she said
with a gloomy look, "that I have learned the truth about my brother."
"The truth----"
"What you told me yesterday is the truth," said Miss Hest bitterly.
"He is a scoundrel and--as it seems probable--a murderer. Yet I had no
suspicions of him, not even when he sent that Indian down here."
"Hokar?" said Towton, secretly pleased that his doubts on this point
were about to be resolved.
"Yes. Some time ago he came here with a letter from Francis, saying
that he was to remain here for a time. I gave him house-room and did
not pay much attention to the man, as I thought it was only another of
my brother's philanthropic schemes. But, from what you said yesterday,
this Hokar is connected with Mr. Maunders and my brother in their
wickedness. Oh," Frances struck the table with her clenched hands, "to
think that our name should be so disgraced by my brother!"
"What have you discovered?"
"That he is The Spider. Yes; there can be no doubt of that. See!"
She took a long blue envelope from her pocket and opened it to
display a paper. "This is a mortgage on Gerby Hall and on all the
property," she explained. "The Deed of Gift to me is worth nothing.
Interest is due on the mortgage, and unless it is paid, the man to
whom the money is owing will foreclose. No wonder Francis presented me
with the estates. They are worth nothing and less than nothing. I am
actually a pauper."
"Oh, I am extremely sorry to hear that, Miss Hest. But how does this
paper prove that your brother is The Spider?"
"It proves that I am a pauper and nothing more. But I discovered
amongst my brother's papers the will of poor Mr. Dimsdale."
Towton started to his feet. "What! is there a will?"
"Yes. It is signed by Martin Dimsdale and witnessed by George Venery,
of Singapore, and Walter Smith, of Hong-Kong. After what you said
yesterday, I made up my mind that I would no longer be in the dark
regarding my brother's doings. I therefore broke open his desk, which
he always kept safely locked, and found a written statement regarding
Ida not being Mr. Dimsdale's daughter, but the child of a certain Mr.
Menteith."
"Your brother must have learned that story from Miss Jewin," said the
Colonel. "For Maunders declared that she knew the history."
"I quite believe it," replied Miss Hest. "For the statement was
signed by Sarah Jewin. I have not spoken to her yet, but I shall do so
to-morrow. She was in India with my father and mother and afterwards
in Burmah. I expect she heard the story there, and related it to
Francis. He added to it."
"Oh!" Towton remembered about the embroidery to the tale. "Then Mr.
Dimsdale did not purposely delay the relief expedition which was to
rescue Menteith?"
"No. He pressed on with all speed. But Francis invented that wicked
lie so as to get money from Mr. Dimsdale. How Francis got the will I
can't say. He certainly called at 'Rangoon' once or twice when he was
in London, but I scarcely think Mr. Dimsdale would have given him the
will."
"Probably he stole it. I am sorry to hurt your feelings, Miss Hest,"
added the Colonel hastily on seeing her wince. "But your brother is
extremely clever in a criminal way, and nothing he does surprises me.
I quite believe he was clever enough to get this will. Where is it?"
"I have left it at home, and if you will call to-morrow I shall give
it to you. But I must make conditions."
"Conditions?" The Colonel looked puzzled.
"Ah, don't think badly of me," said Frances in an imploring manner.
"But consider my position. I am without a penny, for the property must
certainly be handed over to the man to whom it is mortgaged. Listen,
Colonel. This will states that Ida is not the testator's daughter, and
leaves everything to Ida Menteith, so there can be no doubt that she
inherits. Now, Ida loves you, and although I wished her to marry my
brother or Mr. Maunders, she always desired to be your wife. I am glad
now that she did not yield to my persuasions, since both Francis and
Constantine are criminals and exiles. So I want you to take her away
to-morrow and marry her and enter into possession of the Dimsdale
property."
"You are very good, Miss Hest," said Towton, who could not but
acknowledge that she was acting most generously. "But your condition?"
"It is scarcely that, Colonel; merely a suggestion. I shall give you
the will if you can arrange with Ida to give me eight or nine or ten
thousand pounds, so that I can have something to live on."
Towton hesitated at this bold offer. "I can't say anything about that;
it is for Miss Dimsdale to decide."
"Colonel, if I chose, Ida would remain with me altogether, as she
loves me."
"Say rather," said Towton, somewhat unjustly, "that you have a great
influence over her, Miss Hest."
"And if I have," cried Frances, rising to the height of her tall
figure, "has that influence been used for otherwise but good? Instead
of misusing it, as I could, to keep Ida beside me and retain command
of her money, I wish her to marry you and take her fortune entirely to
yourself. All I ask is for a sum to save me from begging my bread in
the street. Think of my position and do not be too hard on me,
Colonel."
"I admit that you have some claim," said the Colonel politely; "and
doubtless Miss Dimsdale will consent to your demand. But I can say
nothing. It will be better to wait."
"Until when?"
"Until to-morrow. Then, with Ida, we can talk over the matter." Miss
Hest's lip curled. "You are a strange man, Colonel. I offer you a
pretty wife and a handsome fortune, yet you hesitate to do me
justice."
"I see no justice in giving you ten thousand pounds," retorted Towton
sharply.
"Well," said Frances, suppressing her rising anger, for she felt that
she was acting generously and the Colonel churlishly, "perhaps justice
is not quite the word which should be used. But you spoke now of my
influence over Ida as being great, and you spoke truly. She is very
fond of me, and I am perfectly well able to induce her to give up all
idea of becoming your wife, and to get her to remain with me. Then I
should handle the sum I ask for every year instead of only once, for
Ida knows nothing of business."
"See here, Miss Hest," said Towton roundly, "I love Ida and I wish her
to be my wife. But she shall accept me of her own free will and
without being pressed in any way. Your influence can scarcely be so
great as you think, since Ida declined both to marry Maunders or your
brother, although--as you admit--you urged her to do so. I am coming
to-morrow with Lady Corsoon and her daughter to see Ida, and I hope
Miss Dimsdale will return with her aunt to this house----"
"Not if I can prevent it," said Frances, her colour rising as she
hastily wrapped her cloak round her and moved towards the door. "Ida
remains with me as a hostage until I get this money, to which I am
entitled."
"I fail to see that."
"Because you have an ungenerous nature," she retorted. "Were I in
possession of an unencumbered estate I should ask nothing. But, as it
is, I must have money, and if you are wise you will buy this will and
your wife with a sincere promise--I do not even ask for it to be in
writing, so confident am I in your honour--to give me ten thousand
pounds on the wedding-day."
But Towton was singularly obstinate. "Wait until to-morrow," he said
dourly. "What Ida says I hold by."
"In that case I have the money," retorted Frances, and left the room
promptly with a dry smile and a light step, fully satisfied that she
had won.