"I THINK HE'S DEAD"
It was Lenise Elroy who was supping at the Torbay Hotel when Hector
Woodridge looked through the chink in the blind and saw her with her
friends. The man who brought her the wrap to put on her shoulders was
Fletcher Denyer.
Denyer lived mainly on his wits. He was a dark, handsome man, about
ten years younger than Mrs. Elroy, and made her acquaintance some two
years back at a ball at a large London hotel. He was a man likely to
attract such a woman. He was unscrupulous; of his morals the less said
the better; he possessed unlimited confidence in himself. Who he was,
or where he came from, no one appeared to know, but he had wormed
himself into a certain class of society, had become known on the
racecourse, and in financial circles, and acted as a kind of tout to
more than one firm of wine merchants, also to a big turf commission
agent, who treated him liberally when he introduced business. His
address was Marine View, Hove, Brighton, and he was frequently to be
seen in the gay city by the sea.
Marine View was a small house off one of the main streets, comfortably
furnished, and Denyer was the sole tenant. Two half caste servants, a
man and his wife, looked after the place. The man's name was Antonio
Tobasco, his wife's Lucille, and they knew more about their master
than any one.
Tobasco seemed devoted to Denyer; so did his wife; they attended to
his wants, and looked after the house during his absence. Tobasco's
father was an Italian emigrant who went to America in the fifties,
and gradually drifted to Mexico, where he married a native woman.
Lucille's mother was an Italian, her father a dark man in the Southern
States. There was plenty of black blood in them, and with it mingled
a certain amount of treachery. Denyer had lived in Mexico; it was here
he became acquainted with them, through Lucille, whom at one time he
admired--it was his money that gave Tobasco the chance to marry her,
but the man did not know of the relations which at one time existed
between Denyer and Lucille. She was quite contented to marry him, and
the union had proved satisfactory for several years.
It was Lucille who persuaded Denyer to bring them to England with him.
At first he refused, but she knew how to handle him and succeeded in
having her way.
Lenise Elroy had seen Hector's face at the window, just a glimpse,
but sufficient to frighten her. She thought she recognized him, then
wondered why she had been such a fool; he was safe in Dartmoor, and
not likely to come out again. At the same time she could not get rid
of the impression, nor could she make an excuse for her sudden alarm.
She came to Torquay with Denyer at his request; he said he wanted a
change, and her society. There was no question of love on his side,
although Lenise was a handsome woman, but he was to a certain extent
infatuated with her, and proud of being seen in her company. What her
feelings were toward him she hardly knew. She was at a critical age,
when a woman sometimes loses her head over a man much younger than
herself. She would have been very sorry to lose Denyer's friendship,
but she had no intention of letting her inclinations run away with
her common sense. She kept on the right side, there was nothing wrong
between them; they were familiar, but it had been carried no farther,
and she was determined to be his wife, if she wished--at present she
did not wish it.
She tormented him, but at the same time attracted him; moreover, she
was useful to him. She had a settled income, he had not; occasionally
he found himself short of money, hard up. She helped him, he pocketed
the cash and felt grateful for a few days. She did not despise him for
taking the money from her; she wished to bind him to her, and this was
a sure way.
It was during her brief stay at Torquay that Lenise Elroy came across
Brack. She was fond of the sea, had a liking for rowing in small
boats.
"Can't understand what you see in 'em," said Denyer; "beastly cockly
things, might go over at any moment."
"Well, I do like them, and I'm not going to explain why. If you don't
care to go out, stay here until I come back; I'm going to have a row
round the men-of-war," she said.
"Please yourself, but it's a waste of time. Why not go for a motor
drive instead?"
"I prefer the row; you take the motor."
"I will. Brady's doing business, so I'll take his wife for a spin;
she's good company."
"Very," said Lenise. "She's not at all a bad sort."
She knew very well Mrs. Brady would not go out alone with him; if he
didn't know it, he was not quite so wide awake as she imagined.
She went to the harbor, and, seeing Brack, took a fancy to him.
"Want to go for a row?" he asked.
"Yes, round the warships."
"I'm yer man. I get a lot of patronage from ladies; they're safe with
me, I'm a steady goin' old 'un."
He took his blackened pipe out of his mouth and slipped it into his
pocket.
"This is my boat, _The Dart_," he said. "Wait till I put the cushion
right for you."
She got in. Brack thought what a handsome woman she was.
He was about to push off when he looked up and saw Carl Hackler.
"So yer here still, messin' about! Wonder yer not tired of it," he
said.
"I am," said Carl. "Dead tired of it! Nothing can be done here. My
belief is he's dead."
"And mine too; he couldn't have stood it all this time, wandering
about the moor," Brack said.
When they were out in the bay she asked:
"Who is dead? What were you talking about?"
"It's a long story, mum, a sad story; I don't suppose it would
interest you."
"Who was that man on the quay?" she asked.
"He's from Dartmoor, from the prison," said Brack.
He did not see the look of interest on her face as he spoke.
"A warder?" she asked.
"Not exactly that; I fancy he's one of the fellows turned on for
special duty at times."
"And what is he doing at Torquay?"
"A week or so back a man escaped from Dartmoor prison. They've not
caught him yet; it's my opinion they never will," he answered with a
chuckle.
She felt that peculiar feeling come over that she experienced when she
fancied she saw Hector's face looking through the window of the hotel.
"What nonsense!" she thought. "There are hundreds of prisoners there;
why should he be the one to escape?"
She was restless, all the same, and wished Brack would tell her more.
"I suppose it is no uncommon thing for a prisoner to escape?" she
asked.
"No; they do a bolt sometimes. They're generally caught inside
twenty-four hours."
"But this man is not taken?"
"No, and Hackler's been mooning about Torquay looking for him for a
week, just as though the fellow would be likely to come here," said
Brack.
"I wonder who he was?"
"Don't know, but he was a good plucked 'un," said Brack, and proceeded
to tell her all about the throttling of the hound.
"He must be a very desperate character," she said.
"It's enough to make a man desperate," said Brack.
"What was he in prison for?" she asked.
"Murder, so I've heard," said Brack.
She started.
"What murder, where?"
"Somewhere up in Yorkshire, I believe," said Brack, who was now
watching her. He saw her turn pale and clutch the side of the boat
with one hand.
"Takes an uncommon interest in it," he thought. "Wonder who she is?"
"Do you know anything about the murder--the trial I mean? You come
from Yorkshire, do you not--I can tell by your accent," she said with
a faint attempt at a smile.
"Yes, I'm fra Yorkshire," said Brack. "Used to be at Scarborough some
years ago."
"I come from Yorkshire too," she said. "I remember some years ago
there was a celebrated trial there, a murder case, the man who was
convicted shot the husband of some lady he had been compromised with.
It was a very sad case, a very old Yorkshire family, I forget the
name, it was Wood something--oh, I have it, Woodridge, that's it. Do
you recollect it?"
Brack was on the alert. She knew a good deal more about it than she
pretended; he was sure of it. Who was she?
"I remember it; most folks up our way will remember it to their dying
day," he said.
"Why?"
"Because no one believed him guilty."
"But he was found guilty and sentenced."
"Many an innocent man suffers for another's crime," said Brack.
"Perhaps it was this man who escaped," she said.
"If it were, the poor fellow's dead by now," said Brack. "They did say
at the time it was the woman, the wife, that got him into his trouble.
Women's generally at the bottom of these things. I believe she was a
mighty fine woman too; but she must have been wicked."
Lenise was restless.
"Don't you think we had better put back?" she said.
"I thought you wanted to row round the men-o'-war," he said.
"It is too far; I want to be back for lunch."
"Shall I turn round?"
"Yes, please."
"Do you think they'll catch the man who escaped?" she asked before
they reached the landing steps.
"I think he's dead or they'd have got him afore now," said Brack.
She gave a sigh of relief, as she handed him half a sovereign.
"I haven't got any change," said Brack.
"You can keep that; you interested me in your conversation. What did
you say was the name of the man from the prison?"
"Carl Hackler," said Brack.
"Thank you; if I wish to go out again I will take your boat."
"Very good, my lady, always at your service," said Brack; adding to
himself, "I'd like to find out who she is, and why she's so mighty
interested in it all."