MRS. MOUNTFORD'S ACCUSATION
That same evening, after dinner, Angus and Elspeth sat side by side in
the severe-looking drawing-room. Their host had been called out
unexpectedly, after the usual custom of patients, who appear to fall
ill at the most awkward moments. But in this instance the young couple
were rather glad that Browne had departed, as they wished to have a
quiet and confidential talk about their position and their future.
Hitherto, owing to the attentions of various friends, this had been
impossible.
Herries looked extremely well in spite of his late exciting
experiences,--a very different man to the haggard tramp who had
arrived at the "Marsh Inn," or hotel, as many of the papers called it.
Mrs. Kind had fed him well during his sojourn in the caravan, and
while detained in the Tarhaven prison he had been treated kindly. But
he still wore the threadbare blue serge suit, although Browne had
supplied him with clean linen, a luxury which Herries much
appreciated.
Elspeth was different also. In every way she was improved, as her face
had filled out, and her figure looked less fragile, and her eyes were
less like those of a hunted deer. Good food and a happy love--for
happy it was in spite of untoward circumstances--had done much to
improve the miserable little drudge of the inn. Hand in hand the
lovers sat, for they were more lovers than ever, and the marriage bond
was yet new to them. There was only one electric lamp alight and that
was at the end of the rather large room, therefore Mr. and Mrs.
Herries sat in comparative twilight. After all the storm and stress of
the last few weeks, they felt extremely happy and like weary sailors
who had reached a safe port. Elspeth made some such remark, but Angus
laughed as he kissed her.
"You dear, silly darling," said the young man, slipping his arm round
her waist, "we are not in port yet; there is a long voyage before us,
and a stormy one, before we are safely berthed."
"What do you mean, dear? You are safe."
"My life is and my liberty, but you forget, Elspeth, that I am as poor
and friendless as ever."
"Not friendless, since you have me."
He pressed her to his breast.
"I count you as more than a friend, as my wife."
"Well then, there is Dr. Browne----"
"He's a trump."
"And Sweetlips Kind."
"The best fellow in the world, save Browne."
"And my father."
Here Herries' eulogies came to a stand-still. He screwed up his face
and shook his head.
"I am not so sure that we can call your father a friend, Elspeth."
"Oh, Angus, when he saved your life."
"My dear, I am well aware of that, but his reason was simply a
pecuniary one. He told me plainly that he would not have put himself
out had I not married you."
"Ah," said Elspeth somewhat bitterly, "he is only too glad to get rid
of me. I have always been an encumbrance to him."
"Well, at least, you are now with someone who appreciates you," said
Angus, kissing her.
"Do you really mean that, Angus? Do you really love me?"
"Darling, is there any need to tell you?"
"Every need," she said vehemently, and with a suspicion of tears in
her voice, "I have been so lonely all my life. No one has ever loved
me. I have been kicked about from pillar to post, neglected, starved,
beaten, scorned. Oh, dearest heart," she looked up passionately into
his face, "can you wonder that I want you to tell me again and again
how much you love me."
"I love you,--I love you,--I love you. There, will that do?"
"Again! Again!" she hid her face in his breast, and he bent over her
till his lips touched her soft hair.
"I love you with all my heart and soul, you are the one woman in the
wide world to me."
"And I am the only woman, not Maud."
"Maud!" he snapped his fingers, "pouf."
"Ah," said Elspeth jealously, "but you loved her,--you would have
married her."
"I loved her in the usual way a shallow young man loves. She was pretty
and coquettish when I was with her in Edinburgh, and her exterior drew
me. I loved her merely for her beauty, never for her heart and
beautiful nature, as I love you, dearest. It required months of misery
to deepen my nature and make me appreciate a true woman, such as you
are. Ours is one of those rare marriages that is made in heaven. Never
be jealous of Maud Tedder, my own love; you alone possess my heart."
"I know it, I feel it. All the same,--" she paused.
"All the same----?"
"I want you to tell me again that you love me."
"I love you, little donkey."
Elspeth threw her arms round his neck, and brought his lips down to
her own.
"I am a donkey--all the same, I am a woman who wants to be loved. I
_am_ loved," this triumphantly, "but oh, how delicious it is to love
and to be loved, Angus."
"Elspeth!"
They clasped hands and looked deep into one another's eyes; then the
reaction came and both burst out laughing.
"We are like a couple of children," said Herries, smiling, "merry
children."
"Why not? We have been sad for so long."
"And foolish children."
"Ah, my own, we have been too wise in the misery of the world. Look at
your years of sorrow; look at my years of trouble. We have both been
unlucky."
"Mr. and Mrs. Jonah," said Angus, with a shrug, "well, darling, I
think two bad lucks make one good one. Since we have been married the
luck has changed."
"In what way?"
"I am free from a terrible charge, and you are my wife. Henceforth I
truly believe that we will be the happiest and most fortunate couple
in the wide world. Two negatives make an affirmative, so why shouldn't
your bad luck and mine, when joined, as they now are, make one
superlatively good one? What do you think?"
"I think the same as you. Everything will go well now."
"Hurrah," Angus shook her hands vigorously, "let us build castles in
the air, and perhaps they will turn into bricks and mortar."
Elspeth caught his spirit, and laughed also.
"Well, then, we will learn who killed your uncle, and then you will
get fifty thousand a year, upon which," she gave him a comical look,
"we can manage to exist."
"With due economy," said Herries gravely, "but we must not forget, my
dearest, that should this great fortune come to us, we will have to
hold it in trust for less fortunate people. There are many male and
female Jonahs about, who will have to be helped."
"I quite agree with you; but we must get the money first. Now that you
are free, Angus, you can search for yourself."
"I intend to; but in what direction can I search?"
Elspeth thought for a few moments.
"I fancy it would be best for you to return to the 'Marsh Inn,' and
question Mrs. Narby."
"Do you think that she knows the truth?"
"I can't be sure; but she is an observant woman, and if you promise
her a reward she would tell you of anything suspicious she might have
seen."
"That's true," then Angus burst into laughter, "I wonder if she'll be
civil."
"Of course. She must have seen in the papers that you have inherited
this money, and if you make it worth her while----"
"But I can't until I find out who killed my uncle. Only when the true
assassin is discovered will I be able to inherit."
"Make it worth Mrs. Narby's while and she will assist you," insisted
Elspeth. "I am quite sure that the secret of the crime is to be
discovered at the 'Marsh Inn.'"
"Perhaps Mrs. Narby herself killed my uncle."
"Why do you think that?" asked Mrs. Herries, quite startled.
"Your father acknowledged that when he went up the stairs after
midnight, to empty my pockets while I was lying in that drugged sleep,
he heard the swish of a woman's gown in the darkness, going down the
stairs. That looks as though Mrs. Narby----"
"No," exclaimed Elspeth vehemently, and rising to gesticulate, "I
really don't think that Mrs. Narby, bad as she is, would commit such a
crime."
"She might have done so to get that two thousand pounds, and then have
placed the pocket-book in my room to----"
"No, no, she would rob, and scold, and do many things, but at heart she
is a coward and would never risk her neck."
"Well, then, perhaps the woman who went down the stairs was Señora
Guzman."
"I don't see how she could have got into the inn."
"Neither do I," said Herries, scratching his head in perplexity, "and
I don't see either why she should have killed my uncle. Say that she
wanted this two thousand in order to fit out an expedition to hunt for
this Peruvian treasure, my uncle was ready to give it to her, provided
she removed Kyles from Maud's path."
"Yet Maud accuses her," said Elspeth, equally perplexed.
Angus shrugged his shoulders.
"Of course. Maud is a jealous rival and would hang Señora Guzman at
once if she could manage to do it. It was strange that Señora Guzman
was not at the trial to-day."
"Why should she have come?"
"Well, you see, she told Kind that the crime was--as she verily
believed--a political one, and so she might have been present in order
to save me, seeing that she must know that I am innocent, and did not
know what your father was about to say."
"The best thing will be to see her."
"I intend to. I'll go along to Pierside to-morrow, and board that
yacht. And," added Herries emphatically, "I don't leave it until I
learn all she knows."
"Do you think Captain Kyles----?"
"No. Mrs. Mountford said that he was with Maud at the 'Moated Hall' on
the night of the murder. I believe," said Herries, walking up and down
the room, "that your father knows more than he will admit. He was
sleeping in the tap-room, and anyone who went up the stairs would have
to pass through it----"
"Oh, no, Angus----"
"Well, I don't exactly mean that. But your father--who admits to
having been kept awake by the clock--would have heard anyone who went
up the stairs. Also, he might have heard anything that went on outside
the house."
"What went on there?"
"Armour was kidnapped, and the man whom Sir Simon was to see climbed
in at the window, where stood the candle with the red handkerchief
before it as a signal. Depend upon it your father knows."
"Where is he now?" asked Elspeth. "We might ask him."
"Pooh. He'll say only so much as suits his book. He went an hour ago
to see Maud and claim his reward."
"What reward?"
"You know. The five hundred pounds that she offered for my
apprehension. He caught me, so he can claim it. The payment will make
a large hole in Maud's reduced income of one thousand a year."
"I promised, if she saved you, Angus, that she should have half the
fortune of her father."
"I know, but you are released from that promise. Maud did not save me.
Your father did that. Unless I see some very strong reason I won't
give Maud a penny."
"We must forgive our enemies," rebuked Elspeth.
"Quite so, but Maud sought my life to further her love-chase. I
daresay in the end I'll help her, but she must suffer a trifle for her
wickedness. Hullo, who is this. Browne come back?"
As Herries spoke the door opened, and a bulky gentleman entered, with
a bulky lady behind him. Then a voice spoke, which was easily
recognised, and a hand turned on the full glare of the electrics.
"Settin' in the twilight like turtle dooves," said Mr. Gowrie, "blind
tae th' warld as ye micht say. Aye, young luve,--young luve." While
the old tutor ran on in this jocular manner, the bulky lady advanced.
She was clothed in black, and wore a large picture hat trimmed with
large ostrich feathers. Her advance was like that of a tragedy queen,
and she waved Gowrie aside, when he attempted to speak.
"Man," she said, grandly, "let me introduce myself. Mrs. Herries!" she
bowed. "Mr. Herries!" she repeated the performance. "I am Mrs.
Mountford, the companion of Miss Maud Tedder."
"Yes," said Angus rather coldly, "and may I ask why you have come
here, Mrs. Mountford?"
"To appeal to you on behalf of your cousin. She has been wrongfully
dispossessed by her father, and--"
"Pardon me, Mrs. Mountford, but I am unable to enter into this
question at present. Until I discover who killed my uncle, I am not in
possession of the property."
"And what if I can help you to discover the assassin?"
"What! You know----?"
"I know nothing, but I have grave suspicions."
"Of whom?"
Mrs. Mountford did not reply immediately. She sank into a chair, and
arranged herself like a queen. Gowrie stood beside her with folded
hands and looked at her majestic form satirically. Elspeth sat beside
Angus, and waited to hear what this formidable looking dame had to
say.
"I came here with Mr. Gowrie," said the ex-governess, "as he has had
some difficulty with Miss Tedder."
"Deeficulty do ye ca' it, wumon!" cried Gowrie, who could keep silence
no longer. "She's nae mair nor a Jeezebel, a Scarlet Wumon o' Babylon,
takin' ma hardly earned siller frae me. Deeficulty says she, aye, and
rank cheatin', swindling, embeezling, thieving----"
"Hush," Mrs. Mountford waved her hand, as though rebuking a rebellious
subject, "be silent. Mr. Herries, this man----"
"Gentlemon, ye bauld limmer. Aye, an a meenister foreby."
"He came to see Miss Tedder to claim his reward for having betrayed
your hiding-place."
"He has certainly earned it," said Herries, coolly.
"Miss Tedder refuses to encourage this Judas-like conduct, since she
did not wish to pay the reward unless you were convicted."
"And hanged," ended Angus, laughing. "Why don't you finish the
sentence, Mrs. Mountford? I am quite aware that my cousin was only too
anxious to have my neck stretched provided she got the money."
Elspeth would have burst into indignant speech, but Herries laid a
reproving hand on her arm. Gowrie grumbled.
"Judas ye ca' me, ye jade o' Nineveh, yon great city, and a' for askin'
for ma ain."
"You betrayed your son-in-law," said Mrs. Mountford.
"Aye, kenning weel I cud save the laddie's neck."
"So Miss Tedder guessed, and so she will not pay the reward."
"I'll county-court the hizzy. Aye, she'll pay doon the siller, or
jailed she shall be for a bleezin' slut o' Tophet."
"Mr. Herries," the lady in black appealed to Angus, "I must really ask
you to stop this man talking.
"Well, Mrs. Mountford, you can hardly expect me to do that, when you
come here calmly to regret that I was not hanged.
"Send her away," said Elspeth angrily.
"Peace," said Mrs. Mountford, with severity; then addressed herself to
Herries. "Believe me, I regret that Maud should have conducted herself
in such a way. But love is a short madness, as the Latin Grammar says,
and Miss Tedder is in love with Captain Kyles. He, I truly believe,
loves her for the money she once had, and will not return to her side
unless she recovers her fortune."
"I see," said Angus coolly, "and you come here to ask me to give up
the fortune so that she may marry Kyles. I must say that is an
impertinent request."
"Hear me out, Mr. Herries. I love Maud. She has her faults, and she
has, I admit, behaved badly. All the same she has her good points, and
you must remember that she was, so to speak, under the thumb of this
adventurer Kyles. Maud only wished you hanged to save him."
"But Kyles wanted to save _me_," said Herries, puzzled, "at least, Dr.
Browne told me."
"Ah, that was acting on Captain Kyles' part," said Mrs. Mountford
contemptuously. "He wanted to see you hanged, so that the question of
the assassination should be settled. Maud was quite willing that this
should be so, provided she married him. Ah, Mr. Herries, you must
forgive Maud. She loves so much."
"Even to hanging me; a nice foundation for a marriage, I must say."
"It is infamous, talking in this way," cried Elspeth, who was white
with indignation.
"What can ye expect frae a wumon wha wull nae dischairge her lawful
indebtedness? The fair sex, they ca' ye, the unfair limmers ye are,
the hail clamjamfarry. Adaam wis respectable beside Eve, the cutty,
wi' her stolen fruit, and nae clothing."
Herries began to laugh. The extreme humour of Mrs. Mountford, although
quite unconscious, appealed to him, and the indignation of Gowrie was
not less amusing. Everyone had his or her own axe to grind, as the
saying goes, and each was ready to sacrifice everyone and anyone to
get what he or she wanted. It was a Gilbert and Sullivan opera without
music.
"Come, Mrs. Mountford," said Angus, suddenly becoming serious, "tell
me what you want."
"I want you to have Captain Kyles arrested."
"Why?"
"Because I am quite sure that he murdered Sir Simon."
"Impossible. I understood that you declared he was with Maud at the
Hall on the night of the murder."
"I said that at Maud's request," confessed Mrs. Mountford, with a
blush. "Indeed, I have given in too much to her, and for doing so I
ask your pardon, Mr. Herries."
"You would have let him be hanged," cried Elspeth indignantly.
"No, indeed, no, Mrs. Herries. Had Maud persisted in her mad intention
of incriminating your husband, I should have come forward at the trial
to denounce the real murderer--Captain Kyles."
"Can you prove that he is guilty?" asked Angus quickly.
"I can prove nothing. But I know that Sir Simon wrote a letter to
Captain Kyles at Mr. Ritson's office, asking for a meeting at the
'Marsh Inn,' and telling him that he had disinherited Maud, because
she insisted upon marrying him."
"But Maud herself said that the letter was written to Señora Guzman,"
put in Elspeth.
"Alas, that is merely jealousy, Maud knows that Captain Kyles will
marry Señora Guzman, failing herself, and so wishes to remove a rival
from her path. All love, Mrs. Herries, all love."
"Humph," said Angus, "I must say that Maud has a very pretty way of
getting rid of people. She was willing to hang me; she is willing to
hang Señora Guzman; and all to marry the man who killed her father. A
nice person, upon my word."
"A cutty--a slut--a jade!" said Gowrie wrathfully. "Maud doesn't know
that Captain Kyles killed her father," said Mrs. Mountford, "but she
knew, as I do, that he was at the inn on the night of the crime."
"He was the gentleman expected by Sir Simon?"
"On the authority of the letter, which Captain Kyles showed to Maud,
and about which Maud spoke to me--yes."
"Then my cousin must have a shrewd idea that Kyles is guilty," said
Herries. "However, we can talk of the ethics of Maud later. Where is
Captain Kyles now? At the Hall?"
"No. He is at the 'Marsh Inn,' stopping there, in fact. He wrote to
Maud saying that he was putting up there for a week."
"Did he explain his reason?"
"No. He simply said that he was there, and would see her before he
returned to the 'Tarabacca,' which is still at Pierside."
"With Señora Guzman on board?"
"I suppose so. But I want you, Mr. Herries, to have Captain Kyles
arrested and his guilt proved. Then you can give Maud a sum of money,
and I'll take her to the Colonies, there to begin a new life."
"I shall certainly see Kyles, and have him arrested if possible," said
Herries, "but I am not quite certain about giving Maud money. In the
first place I am penniless myself----"
"You will be rich when Captain Kyles is condemned."
"Not sufficiently so to pay Maud an income for behaving in so wicked a
way. I wonder you have the face to ask me, Mrs. Mountford."
"I love her in spite of her faults," pleaded the ex-governess; and
then her dignity broke down and she began to cry. "I know she is
wicked and has been led astray by Captain Kyles, but I brought her up
from the cradle and am attached to----"
"An' muckle creedit does the lassie dae ye," cried Gowrie angrily.
"Mr. Herries," said Mrs. Mountford wiping her eyes and taking no
notice of the tutor, "what will you do?"
"Nothing at present. I am sorry, Mrs. Mountford, for I recognise your
good heart, but Maud is too bad. Later we can speak of this. You can
go, Mrs. Mountford."
The ex-governess, with all her stiffness taken out of her, rose and
walked limply to the door. Without a word, she vanished, and the three
left alone, stared at one another. Gowrie opened his mouth. Elspeth
would have spoken, but Herries, master of the situation, held up his
hand.
"Not a word from either of you," he said, "Gowrie, you must take up
your quarters at the 'Marsh Inn,' and let me know what Kyles is up
to."
"Why not yersel', laddie?"
"He would suspect me, he won't suspect you. You can go to-morrow."
"And what will you do, Angus?" asked Elspeth. "I'll go to Pierside and
interview Señora Guzman."
"Do you believe that Captain Kyles is guilty, Angus?"
"No, your father heard a woman moving about in the darkness. I would
not be surprised to learn that the woman was Mrs. Mountford herself. I
can account in no other way for her preposterous behaviour."