Punctual to his time Mr Hampton came down the road from the station,
with the _Globe_ in his hand, the _Pall Mall_ under his arm, and the
_Evening Standard_ in his pocket.
As he came in sight of the house, he was aware of the tall, gaunt figure
of Mrs Hampton standing at the drawing-room window, forming a kit-cat
picture in a frame, which, as he drew nearer, and the high brick wall
interposed, gradually became a half length, then a quarter, then a head,
the lace of a cap, and nothing at all.
The old lady was at the top of the steps, sour-looking and frowning, as
he neared the entrance, but full of interest in him and sympathy.
"You look tired, dear," she said.
"Eh? No. Pretty comfortable. How's Gertrude?"
"In trouble."
"Eh? What about?"
"George Harrington went out last night on the sly, and hasn't come
back."
The old lawyer uttered a grunt.
"Not been near you?"
"No, no!"
"Nor written?"
"Not he!"
"Nor sent a telegram?"
"No, my dear, no."
"Then, all I can say is that it's very disgraceful."
"Out all night, and of course poor Gertrude as anxious--"
"As if she was his wife," added the lawyer, hanging up his hat and light
overcoat.
"More," said Mrs Hampton. "You would not find a wife so anxious if a
husband behaved like that."
"No, my dear, of course not. There, I'll go up and dress. I say, you
will not wait dinner for him, as you would breakfast?" said the old
lawyer, who looked upon his dinner as the most important event of the
twenty-four hours.
"Indeed, if I have any influence with Gertrude we shall not," said Mrs
Hampton sternly. "I have hardly had a morsel to-day."
"Where's Gertrude?"
"Gone up to her room to dress," said Mrs Hampton; and as soon as they
were in their own apartment, she related the whole of the day's
discoveries, and her theory about George Harrington having gone off to
join Saul.
"Humph! hardly likely," said the old man thoughtfully. "So you waited
all that time, and then found out that he had not been to bed?"
"Yes."
"How does Gertrude take it?"
"Like a lamb apparently. Ready to defend him quite indignantly if I say
a word."
"Then don't say one. I'm very glad he has gone out."
"Glad?"
"Yes. The more he shows the cloven hoof the better."
"My dear?"
"For Gertrude. She may have her eyes so opened that she will refuse to
marry him, throw him over completely, and then, my dear, we shall once
more get home to peace and quietness."
"If it would turn out like that," said Mrs Hampton thoughtfully, "I
would not mind. But come now, speak out."
No answer.
"What are you thinking about, Hampton?"
"I was thinking, my dear, that this accounts for the way the money goes.
I'm glad I've got a clue to that, not that it matters to us."
"What do you think it is--gambling?"
"May be."
"Then you don't think so, Hampton? Now speak out."
"No, my dear, you don't need telling. Not surprising after the life he
has led in the West."
"Yes, sir, it is very surprising, when he is engaged to the sweetest
girl in the world."
"Yes. Did the dog howl much?"
"Not a great deal, but very strangely; and don't turn from one subject
to another so abruptly."
"Enough to make him, with his head cut open, poor brute!"
Ten minutes after they descended to the drawing-room, where, in spite of
her cheerful looks and animated manner of addressing the old lawyer, it
was plain to see that Gertrude had been crying, and the tears rose to
her eyes again as she noted the tenderly sympathetic manner towards her
of her two friends.
"I have ordered the dinner to be taken in at the usual time," she said
eagerly.
"Oh, no, my dear, not for us," said Mrs Hampton after a desperate
effort to master herself.
"Yes, I am sure that George--who, I feel sure, has gone to join Saul
Harrington--would wish us to go on as usual. Yes, Denton? Dinner?"
"No, miss; I only came to say that there is no wine up."
"No wine, Denton?"
"No, miss; but if you get out the keys I could go down and fetch it from
the cellar."
"Yes, yes; of course," said Gertrude. "I'll go with you."
"No, no, my dear," cried Mrs Hampton; "we take so little, and I am sure
Mr Hampton will not mind to-day."
The old lawyer's face was a study, and he took out his handkerchief and
blew quite a blast.
"My beloved wife," he said, "I am quite willing to forego a good many
things, but my glass of sherry with my dinner, and my glass of port
afterwards, are little matters which have grown so customary that--"
"Now, I'm sure, Hampton," began the old lady.
"Yes, my love, and so am I," he said decisively. "Gertrude, my dear, if
you will give Denton the keys, I'll go myself, and get the wine, and--
Bless me, what a howl!"
The dog, which had been silent for hours, suddenly sent forth one of its
long, low, mournful cries, which seemed to fill the place with the
doleful sound.
Mrs Denton shook her head, and gazed inquiringly at the old lawyer, but
beyond looking upon the cry as a temporary nuisance, whose effect only
lasted the length of the sound, it seemed to make not the slightest
impression upon him.
Gertrude led the way to the study, and, opening the glass door of the
cabinet, took from the little drawer the cellar keys; everyone connected
with the important parts of the house having, for many years past, had
its resting-place in one of those drawers.
"Are you coming, too?" said Mr Hampton, smiling.
"Oh, yes," replied Gertrude; "I used often to go with dear uncle and
carry the basket when I was quite a little child. I know the different
bins well, and can show you which port and which sherry he used to get
out for you and Dr Lawrence."
"Yes, and splendid wines they were," said the old lawyer, smiling. "No,
no, Gertie, my dear, you must not cut off my glass of wine."
"I have the basket and a light, sir," said the old housekeeper,
appearing at the door.
"Thank you, Denton. You need not come. I'll carry--"
"The light," said the old lawyer, smiling. "Give me the basket, Mrs
Denton. Now then, Gertie, my dear; if a stranger came and saw me now,
he'd say: `What a shabby-looking old butler they have at The Mynns.'"
Gertrude took the candle and led the way to the cellar door, which the
old lawyer opened, and the girl went first. Then the second door was
opened, and they went on over the sawdust-covered floor, inhaling the
mingled odour of damp wood, mildew, and wine.
"Ha!" sighed the old man, as he looked to right and left at the
stacked-up bottles: "It's a weakness and a vain longing, no doubt,
Gertrude, my dear; but there is one thing at The Mynns I do look upon
with envy, and that is the cellar. Bless my heart! is that dog going to
howl like that all night?"
"No, no," said Gertrude, with an involuntary shiver, as the low mournful
cry penetrated to where they stood. "Poor Bruno! he has been sadly
hurt. There, Mr Hampton, that is the sherry," she continued, pointing
to a bin which had only been lowered about a fourth.
"Then we'll have a bottle of you," said the old man, carefully taking
one by the neck from its sawdust bed.
"And that is the port," continued Gertrude, holding up the light, to
point to the other side of the cellar.
"Ha!" ejaculated the old man, with all the enjoyment of a connoisseur,
as he again carefully lifted a bottle with its lime-wash mark across the
end. "No, no, Mrs Hampton, you must not have it all your own way.
Gertie, my dear, if I stand that up I shall spoil it. Would you mind
carrying this bottle by the neck?"
"Oh, no; I'll carry it," she said hastily, as if eager to get out of the
crypt-like place. "I have it. Oh, Bruno, Bruno!" she exclaimed, as
another low, deep howl, from apparently close at hand, reached their
ears. "You had better take a bottle of the old Burgundy, too, Mr
Hampton."
"Well, yes; perhaps I might as well, Gertie; but I shall use you as a
buttress against Mrs Hampton's wrath."
"Oh, yes," cried Gertrude laughingly, "I'll defend you. That's the
bin--the Chambertin."
"Prince of wines," muttered the old man, crossing to the bin his
companion had pointed out, while his shadow cast by the candle she held
was thrown upon ceiling and wall in a peculiarly grotesque fashion, as
if he were the goblin of the cave.
"Now," he said, as he carefully placed the bottle in the basket, "we
shall be all right, even if George comes back. Bless my soul! what's
that?"
For Gertrude uttered a wild shriek, there was a crash, and they were in
utter darkness.