Meanwhile the days glided on so peacefully for John Huish and his wife,
that it seemed to him as if at last the ghost which had haunted his life
had been laid.
Sir Humphrey was spending the evening with them, and Dick was expected,
as Gertrude was seated in her little drawing-room at the piano, singing
one of the sad old melodies that pleased her uncle so well. Her husband
was leaning on the instrument gazing down into her gentle eyes, as she
looked up at him with her countenance full of the calm joy she felt in
the presence of the man of her choice. He was strange at times, but
that did not trouble her, for he was gentle and loving always, ready to
humour her slightest whim, and kindness itself to the feeble old
gentleman who loved to come and prattle and prose in their quiet little
home.
"John," she whispered, as her fingers strayed over the keys, and her
voice was rather sad.
"My darling," he said softly.
"Do you know what it is to feel so happy that it seems as if it could
not last?"
"Yes," he said, bending lower over her; "I have felt so ever since the
day when you consented to be my little wife, and still it lasts."
The piano was again going softly, and for the third time Gertrude sang,
in a voice that lulled the old gentleman off to sleep, "Love's young
dream."
"Let it be always `Love's young dream,'" whispered Huish, as he sank
down on one knee beside the music-stool. "Gertrude, darling, I am so
happy that it is like being in a dream, one from which we will never let
the world wake us with its troubles."
She let her head rest upon his shoulder, and her arm was thrown tightly
round his neck.
"Yes," she whispered; "let us dream."
"Yes," he replied, "we two always. I can feel that here within these
arms I hold all the world--that heaven has been so bounteous to me that
I can never be sufficiently grateful, and--"
He rose quickly, for there was a step outside, and a servant entered.
"If you please, sir, there are two gentlemen want to see you
downstairs."
Huish turned pale, for a strange sense of coming trouble flashed upon
him.
"Did they send up their names?" he said, recovering himself.
"No, sir, only said would you be kind enough to step down, sir, without
disturbing my mistress. It was something particular."
"Is anything wrong, John?" said Gertrude earnestly.
"Wrong? No, my dear, I hope not. Some bit of business: people for a
subscription or something. I shall be back directly. Go on playing, or
we shall wake your father."
She nodded and smiled as she resumed her seat at the piano; and as Huish
went quietly out of the room, the sad strain of olden days his wife was
playing seemed to grow more and more mournful when the notes were
muffled by the closed door.
"Where are the gentlemen, Jane?" he said quietly.
"In the dining-room, sir," said the girl, with a strange look; and as he
entered she stood waiting on the mat.
One of the gas-burners was alight, and Huish started as, on entering the
room, he found himself face to face with a dark, stern-looking man, and
a policeman, who immediately placed his back against the door.
"Is anything the matter?" said Huish quickly.
"Well, yes, a little," said the stern, dark man. "Mr Huish--John
Huish?"
"Yes; I am John Huish."
"Then you are my prisoner, Mr John Huish; here is the warrant. Smith--
cuffs!"
"Stop! One minute!" exclaimed Huish excitedly. "What does this mean?"
"Only the end of the little game, sir," said the dark, stern man. "Long
lane that has no turning. Turning's come at last!"
"I do not understand you. Some mistake."
"Yes, sir, these matters always are little mistakes. Are you ready?"
"No! Stop!" cried Huish. "Send that man away. You need not secure me.
I will go with you."
The stern man relaxed a little, and smiled.
"Won't do," he said. "We've had too much trouble to run you down, sir.
You well-educated ones are too precious clever. We've got a cab
waiting."
"But my wife--my--we have company here."
"There, come along, sir, and get away quietly without letting them know.
It's no use trying any dodges on, because we've got you, and don't mean
to let you slip."
"Tell me at least what it means!" cried Huish.
"The big burglary last night, if you want to know for which little game
it is; but don't be uneasy."
"My hat and overcoat," said Huish quickly. "Get me away quietly, so
that they do not see upstairs. I tell you, man, that I will not try to
escape you. I have only to go to the station to explain that this is a
mistake."
"Get the gentleman's hat and coat," said the plain-clothes officer; and
the policeman opened the door so suddenly that the maid was caught
listening.
"Jane, here, quick!" cried Huish. "Tell your mistress after we are gone
that I am suddenly called away on business."
"And won't be back to-night, my dear," said the officer. "Now, sir, are
you ready?"
Huish nodded, feeling confused and prostrated by the suddenness of the
seizure. For a moment he half felt disposed to resist, but he
refrained, and, stepping into the hall, the girl opened the door just as
Dick came up the steps.
"Why, Huish!" he cried in astonishment.
"Hush!" cried the other. "Not a word to Gertrude. There is some
mistake. Go up to your father, and bring him round to the station. It
will be a question of bail, eh, constable?"
"Yes, sir, I should think it would," said the officer drily; and, taking
his prisoner's wrist, he hurried him into the cab.
"Then it must be all true about him, and he's caught at last," muttered
Dick, whose throat felt dry and lips parched. "Poor little Gertrude!
What will her ladyship say?"
He stood thinking of what he should do as the cab rolled away, and then
entered slowly, feeling that he must leave matters a good deal to
chance. But the deepest-laid scheme of breaking the news would have
been blown to the winds, for the maid had hurried up open-mouthed to
blurt out to Gertrude that master had been took, and that they were
going to handcuff him and put him to prison for burglary.
"Is this girl mad, Dick?" said Gertrude, who was trembling violently,
while Sir Humphrey stood up hardly yet awake.
"Some cock-and-bull nonsense--a blunder, I suppose," replied Dick
hastily.
"But she says the police--have taken my husband."
"They--they--they are always making these confounded blunders, my dear,"
exclaimed the old man. "There, there, be quiet, my dear. Dick and I
will go and see."
"Yes, father, I was going to propose it. John wishes us to go. There,
Gertrude, don't be stupid. I've no doubt it's all right."
"Dick," she cried, catching his arm and gazing in his face; "you don't
think so. There is some great trouble. What is it?"
"I don't know--I can't tell; only that you are hindering us when we
might be of service to John. Be a woman, Gertrude, and take all that
comes as a wife should. There, there, don't cry. I'll come back as
soon as I can."
"I must go with you," she cried. "If my husband is in prison my place
is by his side."
"Yes, yes, my dear," said the old man querulously; "that's what they say
in books, but the law won't stand it. Come along, Dick. I say, my
boy," he whispered, as they reached the hall, "it's precious hard on me
that my sons-in-law should get into such scrapes. What has John been
doing?"
"Heaven knows, father, but I fear the worst," whispered Dick; but his
words were heard upstairs by Gertrude, who was leaning over the
balustrade, and the poor girl staggered back into the little
drawing-room to sob as if her heart would break.
"But I must be a woman and act," she said, drying her eyes hastily; and
ringing, she despatched the girl with a short note to her sister,
begging her to come back in the cab directly with the messenger. Then
she sat down patiently to wait, after declining the cook's offer of
help.
Ten minutes afterwards there was a quick ring at the bell, and the
remaining servant answered the door.
Gertrude ran to the landing, and glanced down, to utter a cry of joy,
for at that moment a well-known voice exclaimed roughly:
"Where is your mistress?" and she ran down to meet her husband in the
hall.
John Huish seemed to Gertrude greatly excited and hurried. There was
something strange, too, in his way which she could not understand, but
set it down to that which he had gone through.
"Oh, John," she began, clinging to him; but he checked her, keeping his
face half averted, and speaking in a harsh whisper.
"Hush!" he exclaimed. "Not a word. Go down."
This to the servant, who tossed her head at the imperative order and
left the hall.
"Now," he said, "quick--your hat and jacket! I have a cab waiting."
"Are we going out, dear?" she said inquiringly. "I have just sent for
Renee."
"How foolish!" he cried. "But waste no time."
"Where are we going?" she asked, wondering at his strange, impetuous
manner.
"Don't waste time, dear," he cried, "but get ready. You shall know all
as we go."
Gertrude's tears began to flow and half blinded her, but she hurried
away to prepare herself, while Huish walked quickly from room to room,
muttering impatiently. Not that there was much need, for Gertrude
reappeared at the end of a minute or two, rapidly tying on her hat, to
find the gas turned down.
"I am ready, dear," she said, laying her hand upon his arm.
"That's right," he cried. "Come along!"
"Shall I tell cook how long we shall be?" said Gertrude.
"No, no. Come along," he cried impatiently, and, hurrying her out of
the house, he helped her into a cab. "Cannon Street Station," he cried
to the driver, and jumping in beside her, the cab rattled off.
"Are we going to leave town, dear?"
"You'll soon see," he cried. "I can't talk to you now; the cab-wheels
make so much noise. Can't you trust me?"
"Oh yes," she cried, laying her hand upon his arm, "but you forget how
anxious I am to know more."
"Well, well, be patient," he cried. "There, if you must know, I have
been short of money."
"Yes, dear, of course. I knew. You forget," she said piteously.
"Yes, of course," he replied. "Well, I was arrested for debt, and I
have got away. We must stay in private--there, I'll speak plainly--in
hiding for a time."
"Oh, John dear, this is very terrible!" she cried. "Why not go to Uncle
Robert? He would help us, I am sure."
"Yes, perhaps so. We will settle that afterwards. The first thing is
to get to a place of safety."
"Safety, John dear?"
"Well, you don't want me to remain in prison?" he said.
"Oh no, dear," she cried, clinging to him. "But, Dick--my father!"
"What about them?" he said sharply.
"What did they say to you?"
"When? How?" he asked.
"They came after you, dear," she said simply.
"Oh yes; they are busy with the police, of course."
She sat listening to the noise of the cab-wheels as it rattled along in
the direction of the City.
Nothing more was said till the vehicle drew up, when Huish leaped out
and helped her to alight. He then handed the cabman a liberal fare and
exclaimed: "Come along, or we shall miss the train."
He hurried her into the station, along the platform, and into the
waiting-room.
"Sit down a minute," he exclaimed, and he went to the door to look out,
but returned directly, looking so strange that Gertrude shrank from him
involuntarily, and had to make an effort to master a curious feeling of
repugnance which came over her.
He drew her arm quickly through his, and, bidding her lower her veil,
led her hastily out of the station, across the road and into a narrow
lane.
"Are we not going by train?" she asked.
"No; it is too late. Just gone. Come along, and don't talk."
She hurried along by his side, for he was walking very fast, and only
noticed that they went through a perfect maze of narrow turnings, now
up, now down, Huish stopping from time to time to look back to see if
they were followed.
He kept this up for nearly an hour, and Gertrude was getting hot and
exhausted, when he turned sharply into a darker and narrower lane,
glancing rapidly up and down the deserted place with its two or three
lamps and dimly-lighted public-house. The next moment he had thrust her
into a heavy doorway, there was a rattle of a latch-key, and Gertrude
felt herself drawn into a dark passage, and the door was closed.
"John!" she whispered, as the tremor which had before attacked her
returned.
"Safe at last!" he muttered, drawing his breath with a low hiss, and not
heeding her. "Tired?"
"Rather, dear," she panted. "But, John, what place is this?"
"My sanctuary," he said, in a peculiar voice. "Give me your hand. Come
along. I'll tell you when the stairs begin."
He led her along the dark passage, and a strange chill of dread struck
upon Gertrude. As they reached the first landing, a light suddenly
shone out, and a few steps higher she gazed wonderingly at the weird
figure of an old woman, with long, grey, unkempt hair, holding an
ill-smelling paraffin lamp high above her head.
There was an intent, curious, inquiring look in the old woman's eyes, as
they seemed to fasten upon the new-comer, gradually growing vindictive,
as they passed her without a word.
"Who is that?" whispered Gertrude.
"Servant," said Huish laconically. "Won't make you jealous, eh?"
"John," she whispered back in a pained voice; "why do you speak to me
like that?"
"Oh, it's only my way," he said flippantly. "Come along."
They went up farther, and, reaching the second floor, Huish threw open
the door of a comfortable, well-lit room, and drew her in, hastily
opened the door of communication with the next room, satisfied himself
that it was empty, went on and locked the farther door leading out to
the landing, and returned.
"There," he said; "you will be safe here."
"Oh yes, John dear," she said, gazing at him wonderingly, "his manner
seemed so strange; but I am so anxious to know."
"Yes, yes; all in good time, dear," he cried. "There, off with that hat
and jacket. Why, my dear," he cried, "you look lovely!"
There was a hot red spot in his cheeks as he spoke in a curiously
excited way, and Gertrude felt a strange sense of shrinking as he
hastily snatched away her jacket, threw it on a chair, and clasped her
in his arms.
"John," she cried, struggling to free herself, "look! look!"
He loosed his grasp and turned suddenly upon a figure which stood right
in the doorway, that of a tall handsome woman, looking ghastly pale, and
her great eyes dilated with rage and surprise. She had evidently risen
from a sick couch, and wore a long loose white dressing-gown, which,
with her long dark hair flowing over her shoulders, gave her an almost
supernatural look, heightened by the silence in which she gazed from one
to another.
"What are you doing here?" cried Huish sharply. "I thought you were in
bed--ill."
"I was," replied the woman slowly, "till I heard you return."
"Go back to it then," he said brutally; "why do you come here?"
Gertrude shrank back towards the couch, as the woman slowly entered,
with her eyes fixed fiercely upon her, and the door swung to.
"Who is this?" she cried, in a low angry voice.
"Take no notice of her. I will get her away," whispered Huish, crossing
to Gertrude's side. "She is mad!"
"No, girl, I am not mad," said the woman sternly; for her hearing seemed
to have been sharpened by her illness, and she had heard every word.
"John Huish," she said sternly, "answer me--who is this?"
Gertrude's eyes dilated with horror. She was confused and startled.
She could not comprehend her position or why they were there; and as the
recollection of the happy evening she had spent came to mingle with the
chaos of fancies and surmises that bewildered her brain, it seemed to
her like some strange nightmare, from which she felt that she would soon
awake into peace and repose.
To make the scene more impressive, the heavy, deep booming of a clock
striking midnight floated into the room with a strange jangle of other
bells, some slow, some hurried, all bent on proclaiming the same fact--
that another day was dead, another being born.
As the woman repeated her question, Huish's eyes grew dark with rage,
and he pointed to the door.
"Go down," he said, "at once, or--"
She shrank from him for a moment as she saw his look; but her jealous
rage mastered her fear, and she stepped farther into the room.
Huish seemed undecided what to do; he glanced at Gertrude, then at the
woman, and then back to see that the former was looking at him
imploringly, as if asking him to end the scene.
"Go back to bed," he said firmly; "you are ill!" and he laid his hand
upon the woman's arm.
"Worse in mind than in body!" she cried, starting away. "Girl," she
continued passionately, "you look truthful and unspoiled; tell me who
you are."
"Oh yes!" said Gertrude quickly, as she advanced with extended hand, and
a look of pity in her face. "I am Mrs Huish."
The woman's lower jaw dropped, and a blank, stony look came into her
eyes.
"Married!" she said hoarsely. "Are you his wife--to-day?"
"Oh no!" said Gertrude wonderingly; "for some time now. You are ill and
delicate. Can I do anything for you?"
"No, no--no, no! Don't touch me; I could not bear it. Tell me once
more."
"Here, enough of this!" cried Huish angrily. "Go down!"
"Don't touch her," said Gertrude excitedly; and she interposed. "She is
ill--very ill. I am Mrs John Huish," she repeated.
"The woman he has wronged?"
"No, no!" said Gertrude, beginning to tremble, as she thought of the
scene upon the stairs; "but you are--"
"That man's lawful wife, whom he now casts aside for some pretty baby
face that takes his fancy."
"It is not true!" cried Gertrude with spirit; "my husband is a gentleman
and the soul of honour."
"It is true! and that man is a liar--a cheat--a scoun--O God, I cannot
bear it! Let me die!"
The woman threw up her hands and reeled. In another instant she would
have fallen, but Huish stepped forward, caught her in his arms, and bore
her out of the room, carrying her down to the next floor, while
Gertrude, as she heard his receding steps, sank into a chair, and gazed
blankly before her.
She started up though, as Huish returned with a smile upon his face, and
closed and locked the door.
"Poor thing!" he said lightly; "I am sorry she came up. Ill, you know.
Her baby. Reason temporarily gone. She accuses everybody like that."
"John," cried Gertrude, trembling, "cannot understand you to-night: you
are so strange and unlike yourself. Is what that poor creature says
true? Oh, I cannot bear to hear such words!"
"True? is it likely?" he said, approaching her. "Why, are you not my
little wife?"
"Yes, yes!" cried Gertrude, shrinking from him; "but tell--"
She stopped short, gazing at him wonderingly. Her hands went to her
dilating eyes, and as the light of the lamp fell for the first time full
upon him now, she uttered a cry of horror, her face became convulsed,
and she ran to the door.
"It is not--" she paused wildly.
"Are you mad, too?" he cried, pursuing her and catching her wrists.
"Yes--no--I don't know," she cried excitedly. "Don't touch me. I
cannot bear it."
"Silence!" he cried. "Do you want to alarm the house?"
"Oh no, no!" she panted; "but you frighten--you horrify me!"
"Hush! Be silent!"
"No, no!" cried Gertrude, struggling, as he again seized her in his
arms. "Oh, help--help--help!"
Volume 3, Chapter II.