AN EXPLOSION.
At Christmas Hugh found that things were not so pleasant at home. There
was nothing now to take his uncle away from Byrneside, and the dullness
of the place told upon him. His outbursts of ill-temper were therefore
more frequent than they had been the last holidays Hugh had spent at
home. He sat much longer in the dining-room over his wine, after his
wife and Hugh had left him, than he did before, and was sometimes
moody, sometimes bad-tempered when he joined them. Hugh's own temper
occasionally broke out at this, and there were several quarrels between
him and his uncle; but there was a savage fierceness in the latter's
manner that cowed the boy, and whatever he felt he learned to hold his
tongue; but he came more and more to dislike his uncle, especially as
he saw that when angry he would turn upon his aunt and speak violently
to her in her own language. Sometimes she would blaze out in return,
but generally she continued to smoke her cigarette tranquilly as if
utterly unconscious that she was spoken to.
So for the next two years matters went on. During the summer holidays
Hugh seldom saw his uncle, who was more and more away from home, being
now a constant attendant at all the principal race-courses in the
country. Even in winter he was often away in London, to Hugh's great
satisfaction, for when he was at home there were frequent quarrels
between them, and Hugh could see that his uncle habitually drank a
great deal more wine than was good for him. Indeed it was always in the
evening that these scenes occurred. At other times his uncle seemed to
make an effort to be pleasant with him.
In summer Hugh went away with his aunt for a time, but he spent a
part of his holidays at Byrneside, for of all exercises he best loved
riding. His pony had been given up, but there were plenty of horses in
the stables, for although William Tunstall did not care for hunting, he
rode a good deal, and was an excellent horseman.
"What have you got in the stable, James?" Hugh asked one day on his
return from the school.
"I have got a set of the worst-tempered devils in the country, Master
Hugh. Except them two ponies that I drives your aunt out with, there
isn't a horse in the stables fit for a Christian to ride. They are all
good horses, first-rate horses, putting aside their tempers; but your
uncle seems to delight in buying creatures that no one else will ride.
Of course he gets them cheap. He doesn't care how wicked they are, and
he seems to enjoy it when they begin their pranks with him. I thought
at first he would get his brains dashed out to a certainty, but I never
saw a man keep his seat as he does. He told me once, that when a man
had been breaking bronchos--that is what he called them, which means,
he said, wild horses that had never been backed--he could sit anything,
and that English horses were like sheep in comparison.
"Of course, it is no use saying no to you, Master Hugh; but if you want
to go out, you must stick to that big meadow. You must mount there, and
you must promise me not to go beyond it. I have been letting the hedges
grow there on purpose for the last two years, and no horse will try
to take them. The ground is pretty soft and you will fall light. You
have been getting on with your riding the last three years, and have
had some pretty rough mounts, but none as bad as what we have got in
the stables now. I shall always go out with you myself with one of the
men in case of accident, and I can put you up to some of their tricks
before you mount."
Hugh was more than fifteen now, and was very tall and strong for his
age. He had ridden a great deal when he had been at home during the
summer, and in the winter when the weather was open, and had learned
to sit on nasty-tempered animals, for these had gradually taken the
place of his father's steady hunters; but this year he found that
the coachman's opinion of those now under his charge was by no means
exaggerated. In spite of doing his best to keep his seat, he had many
heavy falls, being once or twice stunned; but he stuck to it, and
by the end of the holidays flattered himself that he could ride the
worst-tempered animal in the stable. He did not go away this year,
begging his aunt to remain at home.
"It is a splendid chance of learning to ride well, aunt," he said.
"If I stick at it right through these two months every day I shall
really have got a good seat, and you know it is a lot better my getting
chucked off now than if I was older. You see boys' bones ain't set, and
they hardly ever break them, and if they do they mend up in no time."
His aunt had at first very strongly opposed his riding any of the
animals in the stable, and he had been obliged to bring in James to
assure her that some of them were not much worse than those he had
ridden before, and that a fall on the soft ground of the meadow was not
likely to be very serious, but it was only on his giving her his solemn
promise that he would not on any account go beyond the meadow that she
finally consented. On his return at Christmas he found his uncle at
home, and apparently in an unusually pleasant humour. A frost had set
in that seemed likely to be a long one, and the ground was as hard as
iron.
"I hear, Hugh," his uncle said the second morning at breakfast, "that
you are becoming a first-rate rider. I am glad to hear it. Out in
the Western States every man is a good rider. You may say that he
lives on horseback, and it comes natural even to boys to be able to
sit bare-backed on the first horse that comes to hand. Of course it
is not so important here, still a man who is a really good rider has
many advantages. In the first place, all gentlemen here hunt, and a
man who can go across any country, and can keep his place in the front
rank, has much honour among his neighbours; in the second place, he is
enabled to get his horses cheap. A horse that will fetch two hundred if
he is free from vice can be often picked up for twenty if he gets the
reputation of being bad-tempered. There is another accomplishment we
all have in the west, and that is to be good pistol-shots. As we cannot
ride, and there is nothing else to do, I will teach you, if you like."
Hugh accepted the offer with lively satisfaction, heedless of an
exclamation of dissent from his aunt. When he had left the room William
Tunstall turned savagely upon his wife.
"What did you want to interfere for? Just attend to your own business
or it will be the worse for you."
"It is my own business," she said fearlessly. "I like that boy, and
I am not going to see him hurt. Ever since you told me, soon after we
first came here, that by his father's will the whole property came to
you if Hugh died before he came of age, I have been anxious for him.
I don't want to interfere with your way of going on. Lead your own
life, squander your share of the property if you like, it is nothing
to me; when it is spent I am ready to go back to our old life, but I
won't have the boy hurt. I have always accepted your story as to how
you became possessed of the papers without question. I know you have
killed a score of men in what you call fair fight, but I did not know
that you were a murderer in cold blood. Anyhow the boy sha'n't be
hurt. I believe you bought those horses knowing that he would try them,
and believing they would break his neck. They haven't, but no thanks
to you. Now you have offered to teach him pistol-shooting. It is so
easy for an accident to take place, isn't it? But I warn you that if
anything happens to him, I will go straight to the nearest magistrate
and tell him who you really are, and that I am certain there was no
accident, but a murder."
The man was white with fury, and advanced a step towards her.
"Have you gone mad?" he asked between his teeth. "By heavens!--"
"No, you won't," she interrupted. "Don't make the threat, because I
might not forgive you if you did. Do you think I am afraid of you? You
are not in California or Mexico now. People cannot be shot here without
inquiry. I know what you are thinking of; an accident might happen to
me too. I know that any love you ever had for me has died out long ago,
but I hold to my life. I have placed in safe hands--never mind where I
have placed it--a paper telling all the truth. It is to be opened if I
die suddenly and without sending for it. In it I say that if my death
is said to have been caused by an accident, it would be no accident,
but murder; and that if I die suddenly, without visible cause, that
I shall have been poisoned. Do you think I don't know you, and that
knowing you I would trust my life altogether in your hands? There, that
is enough, we need not threaten each other. I know you, and now you
know me. We will both go our own way."
And she walked out of the room leaving her husband speechless with fury
at this open and unexpected revolt. Half an hour later his dog-cart was
at the door and he left for London. Hugh was astonished when, on his
return from a walk down to Gowan's cottage, he found that his uncle had
gone up to town.
"Why, I thought, aunt, he was going to be at home all the holidays, and
he said that he was going to teach me pistol-shooting."
"Your uncle often changes his mind suddenly. I will teach you
pistol-shooting, Hugh. Most Mexican women can use a pistol in case of
need. I cannot shoot as he does, but I can teach you to shoot fairly,
and after that it is merely a matter of incessant practice. If you
ever travel I daresay you will find it very useful to be able to use a
pistol cleverly. There are two or three revolvers upstairs and plenty
of ammunition, so if you like we will practise in the conservatory; it
is too cold to go out. You had better go and ask James to give you some
thick planks, five or six of them, to set up as targets. If he has got
such a thing as an iron plate it will be better still. I don't want to
spoil my picture. The place is forty feet long, which will be a long
enough range to begin with."
Half an hour later the sharp cracks of a revolver rang out in the
conservatory, and from that time to the end of the holidays Hugh
practised for two or three hours a day, the carrier bringing over fresh
supplies of ammunition twice a week. He found at first that the sharp
recoil of the revolver rendered it very difficult for him to shoot
straight, but in time he became accustomed to this, and at the end of a
fortnight could put every shot in or close to the spot he had marked as
a bull's-eye. After the first day his aunt laid aside her pistol, and
betook herself to her favourite hammock, where, sometimes touching her
guitar, sometimes glancing at a book, she watched his progress.
At the end of the fortnight she said: "You begin to shoot fairly
straight. Keep on, Hugh, and with constant practice, you will be able
to hit a half-crown every time. In the West it is a common thing for
a man to hold a copper coin between his finger and thumb for another
to shoot at. I have seen it done scores of times, but it will take you
some time to get to that. You must remember that there is very seldom
time to take a steady deliberate aim as you do. When a man shoots he
has got to shoot quickly. Now, practise standing with your face the
other way, and then turn and fire the instant your eye catches the
mark. After that you must practise firing from your hip. Sometimes
there is no time to raise the arm. Out in the West a man has got to do
one of two things, either not to carry a revolver at all, or else he
must be able to shoot as quickly as a flash of lightning."
"I don't suppose I am ever going to the West, aunt; still I should like
to be able to shoot like that, for if one does a thing at all one likes
to do it well."
[Illustration: HUGH PRACTICES SHOOTING WITH HIS REVOLVER.]
And so to the end of the holidays the revolver practice went on
steadily every morning, Hugh generally firing seventy or eighty
cartridges. He could not do this at first, for the wrench of the recoil
strained his wrist, but this gained strength as he went on. Before he
went back to school he himself thought that he was becoming a very fair
shot, although his aunt assured him that he had hardly begun to shoot
according to western notions.
Mrs. Tunstall had one day, a year before this, driven over to Carlisle,
and, somewhat to the surprise of Mr. Randolph, had called upon him at
his office.
"Mr. Randolph," she began, "I do not know anything about English law.
I want to ask you a question."
"Certainly, my dear madam."
"If a married woman was to leave a sealed letter in the hands of a
lawyer, could he retain possession of it for her, even if her husband
called upon him to give it up?"
"It is a nice question, Mrs. Tunstall. If the lawyer was acting as
the fiduciary agent of a lady he would at any rate see that her wishes
were complied with; whether he could absolutely hold the paper against
the husband's claim is a point upon which I am not prepared at present
to give an answer. But anyhow there are ways of evading the law; for
instance, he could pass it on to a third party, and then, unless the
husband had been absolutely informed by his wife that she had handed
over this document to him, the husband would be powerless, the lawyer
would simply declare that he had no such document. Are you asking for
your own sake, Mrs. Tunstall, or in the interest of a friend?"
"In my own interest, Mr. Randolph. I have a written paper here. I have
not signed it yet, because I believe it is necessary to sign papers in
the presence of witnesses."
"It depends upon the nature of the paper, Mrs. Tunstall; but in all
cases it is a prudent step, for then no question as to the authenticity
can arise."
"And it is not necessary for the witnesses of the signature to read the
contents of the document?"
"By no means; they simply witness the signature."
"Well, Mr. Randolph, this is the document I want to leave in safe
hands, so that it can be opened after my death, unless I previously
request, not by letter, but by word of mouth, that it should be
returned to me. I know of no one else to whom I could commit the paper,
which is, in my opinion, a very important one; the only question is
whether, as you are Mr. Tunstall's solicitor, you would like to take
it."
"Frankly, without knowing the nature of the contents, Mrs. Tunstall,
I should certainly prefer not to undertake such a charge. Should
it remain in my hands, or rather in the hands of our firm--for we
may sincerely trust that there would be no occasion for opening it
until very many years after my death--it might be found to contain
instructions which could hardly be carried out by a firm situated as we
are with regard to Mr. Tunstall."
"I see that, Mr. Randolph."
There was a pause, and then the lawyer said: "Will you be going up to
town shortly, Mrs. Tunstall?"
"Yes, in the course of a month or so I shall be passing through London
with Hugh."
"Will the matter keep until then?"
"Certainly, there is no great hurry about it; but I wish the packet
placed in safe hands, where it would be opened in the event of my
death, unless I recall it before that."
"In that case, Mrs. Tunstall, I will give you the address of the
firm who do my London business. They are an old established firm of
the highest respectability, and the document will be perfectly safe
in their hands until you demand it back, or until they hear of your
demise. I will give you a letter of introduction to them."
Accordingly when Mrs. Tunstall went up to town the next time with Hugh
she called upon the firm of solicitors, whose place of business was
in Essex Street, and upon reading Mr. Randolph's letter, which stated
that she was the wife of one of his clients, a gentleman of means, she
was courteously received, and they at once agreed to take charge of any
document she might place in their hands, upon the understanding that if
she did not write or call for it, it should be opened when they heard
of her death, and its contents, whatever they might be, acted upon.
"You will stand in the position of our client, Mrs. Tunstall, and we
will do all in our power to carry out your wishes as expressed in this
document, whatever it may be. It is no unusual matter for a will to be
left with us under precisely similar circumstances."
"If the packet should be opened under the conditions I name," Mrs.
Tunstall said, "you will probably not regret having undertaken its
charge, for I can assure you that it may put a considerable amount of
business in your hands. But how will you know of my death?"
"Mr. Randolph or his successor would inform us. Of course we shall
request him to do so."
"And as soon as he knows of the event," Mrs. Tunstall added, "it is
of the utmost importance that the paper should be opened as soon as
possible after my death."
"We will request Mr. Randolph to inform us by telegraph immediately he
receives the news. But, pardon me, you look well and healthy, and are
young to be making such careful provisions for an event that may be far
distant."
"That may or may not be far distant," she said, "but for certain
important reasons I wish to be prepared for it at all points. I will
now sign it in your presence, Mr. Curtice. I have not yet put my
signature to it."
"Very well, Mrs. Tunstall. Two of my clerks shall witness your
signature. It may be many years before any question as to the
authenticity of the signature may arise; so I shall be a witness also."
The document was a lengthy one, written on sixteen pages of foolscap.
Two of the clerks were called in.
"Now if you will turn that last page down, Mrs. Tunstall, so that its
contents cannot be seen, you can sign your name and we will witness
it." This was done. "Now, Mrs. Tunstall, if you will put a sheet of
brown paper over the other sheets, and place your initials on the
margin at the bottom, we will put ours, so that no question can arise
as to the whole of them forming part of the document signed by you.
Now, madam, if you will fold it up and place it in this envelope I will
attach my seal. I presume you do not carry a seal?"
"No, sir."
"I think it would be more satisfactory that you should affix a seal of
some sort, no matter how common a thing it may be. Mr. Carter, will
you go up into the Strand with this lady, and take her to some shop
where she can purchase a seal? It does not matter what it is, Mrs.
Tunstall; any common thing, with a bird or a motto or anything else
upon it. These things are not cut in duplicate, therefore if you seal
the envelope in two or three places with it and take the seal away with
you, it will be a guarantee to you, should you ever require it to be
returned, that it has not been opened. In the meantime I will get a
small strong-box similar to those you see round the room, and have your
name painted on it. When it is completed I shall put the envelope in
it, lock it up, and place it in our strong-room downstairs."
The seal was purchased and fixed, and Mrs. Tunstall took her departure,
satisfied that she had left the document in safe hands. Mr. Curtice
talked the matter over with his partner. The latter laughed.
"Women love a little mystery, Curtice. I suppose she has got a little
property in her own right, and does not mean to leave it to her
husband, and is afraid he may get hold of her will and find out how she
has left it."
"I don't think it is that," Mr. Curtice said, "although, of course, it
may be. I should say she was a foreigner--a Spaniard or Italian; she
spoke with a slight accent. Besides, the thing extends over sixteen
pages of foolscap."
"That is likely enough if she made the will herself, Curtice. She may
have gone into a whole history as to why she has not left her money to
her husband."
"Possibly, but I don't think so. You mark my words, Harris, if that
packet ever comes to be opened there will be some rum disclosures
in it. That woman was no fool, and there is no doubt about her being
thoroughly in earnest. She said it was likely to give us some work when
it was opened, and I believe her. I will write a letter to Randolph
and ask him to give us a few particulars about this client he has
introduced to us."
When he received Mr. Randolph's reply, stating briefly the history
of Mr. William Tunstall, the husband of the lady he had introduced to
them, Mr. Curtice was more convinced than before that the delivery of
this packet into his charge was not a mere freak, and offered to bet
his partner a new hat that the document was not merely a will, but that
it would turn out something altogether unusual.
Mr. Randolph congratulated himself on his forethought, when, a year
after Mrs. Tunstall's visit, Mr. Tunstall came into the office.
"I am just on my way up to town," he said. "I wish you would let me
have a couple of hundred in advance on the next rents."
"Certainly, Mr. Tunstall. You have already had £200 on them, you know."
"Yes, I know; but I have been a little unlucky lately, and have got an
account I want to settle. By the way," he said carelessly, as he placed
the bank-notes in his pocket-book, "Mrs. Tunstall asked me to get from
you the letter or packet she left in your charge."
"A letter, Mr. Tunstall? I think there must be some mistake. Mrs.
Tunstall has certainly left nothing whatever in my charge."
"Oh! I suppose I misunderstood her. I only made up my mind to start a
short time before I came off, and did not pay much attention to what
she was saying; but it was something about a letter, and she mentioned
your name; there were half a dozen commissions she wanted me to execute
for her in London, and I suppose they all got mixed up together. I
daresay it is of no consequence one way or the other. Well, thanks for
the money--now I am off."
"I am very much afraid that William Tunstall is a liar," Mr. Randolph
said to himself thoughtfully after his client had left. "He has found
out that his wife has intrusted some document or other to someone,
and he guessed naturally enough that she had most likely come to me
with it, and he played a bold stroke to get it. I do not like the way
he has fallen into of spending all his time going about the country
to race-courses. I don't believe he has been at home two months this
year. Besides, he sounded me last time he was here about raising a few
thousands on a mortgage. He is not turning out well. I thought when he
first came back that his wanderings had done him no harm. No doubt I
had been prepossessed in his favour by his refusal to accept Edgar's
offers to divide the rents with him, but I was too hasty. I am afraid
there will be trouble at Byrneside. It is very fortunate Edgar put
my name in as trustee for his son, so that his share of the property
is safe whatever happens to the other; but I hate to see a man of a
good old family like the Tunstalls going wrong. I wonder what this
mysterious document his wife wanted to leave with me is? It must be
something of great importance, or he would never have come to me and
lied in order to get it into his hands. It is a queer business."
Hugh did not see his uncle when he was at home for the summer holidays.
His aunt seemed to take his absence as a matter of course.
"Don't you expect uncle home soon?" he asked her one day.
"I never expect him," she said quietly.
"I think it a shame he stays away so, leaving you all by yourself,
aunt!" Hugh said indignantly.
"I am accustomed to it by this time, Hugh; and, upon the whole, I think
perhaps he is better away than here while you are at home. You see you
do not get on very well together."
"Well, aunt, I am sure I don't want any rows."
"I don't say you do, Hugh; but still there are rows. You see he is
passionate, and you are passionate, and it is very much better you
should be apart. As for me, I have always been accustomed to his being
away from me a good deal ever since we married, and it does not trouble
me at all. I would much rather have you all to myself. Your being here
makes it a very pleasant time for me; we ride together, drive together,
and practise shooting together. It is all a change to me, for except
when you are here I seldom stir beyond the gardens."
Hugh had indeed no doubt that his aunt was more comfortable when his
uncle was away, for he heard from Wilson that when Mr. Tunstall was at
home there were constant quarrels between him and his wife.
"He ain't like your father, Mr. Hugh. Ah! he was a gentleman of
the right sort! Not that your uncle is a bad master. He is hasty if
everything is not quite right, but in general he is pleasant spoken
and easy to get on with. He is popular with the gentry, though of late
they have held off a bit. I hear it said they don't hold to a gentleman
spending all his life on the race-courses and leaving his wife by
herself. Your aunt is well liked, and would be better liked if she
would only go abroad and visit; but she never drives out unless when
you are here, and people have given up calling. It is a bad job; but I
hope when you come of age, Mr. Hugh, we shall have the old times back
again, when the Tunstalls were one of the first families in the county,
and took the lead of pretty nigh everything."
"Well, they have five years to wait for that, Wilson. I am just sixteen
now, and I mean when I do come of age and am my own master to travel
about for a bit before I settle down into a country squire."
"Well, I suppose that is natural enough, Mr. Hugh, though why people
want to be running off to foreign parts is more than I can make out.
Anyhow, sir, I hope you won't be bringing a foreign wife back with
you."
"There is no fear of that"--Hugh laughed--"at least according to my
present ideas. But I suppose that is a thing no one can settle about
until their time comes. At any rate aunt is a foreigner, and I am sure
no one could be kinder or nicer than she is."
"That she is, Mr. Hugh. I am sure everyone says that. Still, you see,
there is drawbacks. Her ways are different from the ways of the ladies
about here, and that keeps her apart from them. She don't drive about,
and call, and make herself sociable like, nor see to the charities down
in the village. It ain't as she doesn't give money, because I know that
whenever the rector says there is a case wants help she is ready enough
with her purse; but she don't go among them or know anything about them
herself. No, Mr. Hugh; your aunt is a wonderful nice lady, but you take
my advice and bring home an English wife as mistress of the Hall."
When he came home for the Christmas holidays Hugh found his uncle
again at home. For a time matters went on smoothly. Mr. Tunstall made
an evident endeavour to be friendly with him, talked to him about his
life at school, asked whether he wished to go to the university when he
left; and when Hugh said that he didn't see any use in spending three
years of his life there when he did not intend entering any of the
professions, and that he would much rather travel and see something of
foreign countries, he warmly encouraged the idea.
"Quite right, Hugh! There is nothing opens a man's mind like foreign
travel. But don't stick in the great towns. Of course you will want
a year to do Europe; after that strike out a line of your own. If I
had my time over again I would go into Central Asia or Africa, or some
place where there was credit to be gained and some spice of adventure
and danger."
"That is just what I should like, uncle," Hugh said eagerly; and
looking at his aunt for confirmation, he was surprised to see her
watching her husband intently beneath her half-closed eyelids. "Don't
you think so, aunt?"
[Illustration: HUGH, SEIZING A POKER, SPRANG AT HIS UNCLE.]
"I don't know, Hugh," she said quietly. "There is a good deal to be
said both ways. But I don't think we need settle it now; you have
another year and a half at school yet, you know."
Hugh went out skating that afternoon, for it was a sharp frost. As
he was passing through the hall on his return he heard his uncle's
voice raised in anger in the drawing-room. He paused for a moment. He
could not catch the words, for they were spoken in Mexican. There was
silence for a moment, and he imagined that his aunt was answering. Then
he heard a loud exclamation in Mexican, then a slight cry and a heavy
fall. He rushed into the room. His aunt lay upon the hearthrug, his
uncle was standing over her with clenched hand.
"You coward, you brutal coward!" Hugh exclaimed, rushing forward,
and, throwing himself upon his uncle, he tried to force him back from
the hearth-rug. For a moment the fury of his assault forced his uncle
back, but the latter's greatly superior strength then enabled him to
shake off his grasp, and the moment he was free he struck the lad a
savage blow across the face, that sent him reeling backwards. Mad with
passion, Hugh rushed to the fender, and seizing a poker, sprang at his
uncle. William Tunstall's hand went behind him, and as Hugh struck, he
levelled a pistol. But he was too late. The blow came down heavily, and
the pistol exploded in the air; as the man fell back his head came with
terrible force against the edge of a cabinet, and he lay immovable.
Hugh's passion was stilled in an instant. He dropped the poker, and
leaned over his uncle. The blood was flowing down his forehead from the
blow he had given him, but it was the injury to the back of the head
that most alarmed the lad. He lifted an arm, and it fell heavily again.
He knelt down and listened, but could hear no sound of breathing. He
rose to his feet, and looked down, white and trembling, at the body.
"I have killed him," he said. "Well, he brought it on himself, and
I didn't mean it. It was the cabinet that did it. Perhaps he is only
stunned. If he is, he will charge me with trying to murder him. Well,
it is no use my staying here; they will be here in a moment," and he
glanced at the door. But the servants at Byrneside were so accustomed
to the sound of pistol shots that they paid no attention to it. Hugh
picked up the weapon that had dropped from his uncle's hand and put it
in his pocket; then glanced at his aunt and hesitated. "She will come
round in time," he muttered, "and I can do nothing for her." Then he
walked out of the room, turned the key in the door, and took it with
him. He went out to the stable, and ordered his horse to be saddled,
keeping in the stable while it was being done, so that his white face
should not attract notice. As soon as the horse was brought out he
leapt into the saddle and galloped off.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]