DRIVEN INTO EXILE.
Colonel Hope was striding about his library with impatient steps. He
wore a wadded dressing-gown, handsome once, but remarkably shabby now,
and he wrapped it closely around him, though the heat of the weather
was intense. But Colonel Hope, large as were his coffers, never spent
upon himself a superfluous farthing, especially in the way of personal
adornment; and Colonel Hope would not have felt too warm cased in
sheepskins, for he had spent the best part of his life in India, and
was, besides, of a chilly nature.
That same afternoon he had been made acquainted with the unpleasant
transaction which had occurred in his house the past evening. The
household termed it a mystery; he, a scandalous robbery: and he had
written forthwith to the nearest chief police-station, demanding that
an officer might be despatched back with the messenger, to investigate
it. So there he was, waiting for their return in impatient
expectation, and occasionally halting before the window, to look out
on the busy London world.
The officer at length came, and was introduced. Lady Sarah joined
them, and she proceeded to give him the outline of the case. A
valuable diamond bracelet, recently presented to Lady Sarah by her
husband, had disappeared in a singular manner. Miss Seaton Dalrymple,
the companion to Lady Sarah, had temporary charge of the jewel-box.
She had brought it down the previous evening, Thursday, this being
Friday, to the back drawing-room, and laid several pairs of bracelets
out on a table, ready for Lady Sarah, who was going to the opera, to
choose which she would wear when she came up from dinner. Lady Sarah
chose a pair, and put, herself, the rest back into the box, which Miss
Seaton then locked, and carried to its place upstairs. In the few
minutes that the bracelets lay on the table, the most valuable one of
all, a diamond, disappeared from it.
"I did not want this to be officially investigated; at least, not so
quickly," observed Lady Sarah to the officer. "The colonel wrote for
you quite against my wish."
"And so have let the thief get clear off, and put up with the loss!"
cried the colonel. "Very fine, my lady."
"You see," added her ladyship, explaining to the officer, "Miss
Dalrymple is a young lady of extremely good family, with whom we are
intimate. She is of feeble constitution, and this affair has so
completely upset her, that I fear she will be laid on a sick bed."
"It won't be my fault, if she is," retorted the colonel, taking the
implied reproach to himself. "She'd be as glad to find it out as
ourselves. The loss of a diamond bracelet, worth two or three hundred
guineas, is not to be hushed up. They are not to be bought every day,
Lady Sarah."
The officer was taken to the back drawing-room, whence the bracelet
disappeared. It presented nothing peculiar. The folding-doors between
it and the front-room stood open, the back window, a large one, looked
out upon some flat leads. He seemed to take in the points of the
double room at a glance: he examined the latches of the two doors
opening to the corridor, he looked next from the front windows and
then from the one at the back. From the front ones ordinary ingress
was impossible; it was nearly as much so from the back one.
The officer leaned out for some time, but could make nothing of a
case; The window was shut in by a balcony that just encircled it, and
was not accessible from the leads underneath. The house was one of a
row, or terrace, of houses, and they all bore the same features: the
leads running along below; the confining balconies to the windows on
this floor above. But the windows could not be gained from the leads
except by means of a ladder; and the balconies were not at all near
each other.
"Nothing to be suspected there," concluded the officer, bringing in
his head and shoulders. "I should like, if you please, ma'am, to see
Miss Dalrymple."
Lady Sarah went for her, and brought her. A delicate girl, with a
transparent skin, looking almost too weak to walk. She was in a
visible tremor, and shook as she stood before the police-officer:
whose name, it turned out, was Pullet.
But he was a man of pleasant manners and speech, and he hastened to
reassure her. "There's nothing to be afraid of, young lady," said he,
with a broad smile. "We are not ogres: though I do believe some timid
folks look upon us as such. Just please to compose yourself; and tell
me as much as you can recollect of this."
"I laid out the bracelets here," began Alice, indicating the table
underneath the window. "The diamond bracelet, the one lost, I placed
just here," she added, touching the middle of the table at the back,
"and the rest I put around it."
"It was worth more than any of the others, I believe, ma'am?"
"Much more," growled the colonel.
The officer nodded to himself and Alice resumed:
"I left the bracelets, and went into the other room and sat down at
one of the front windows----"
"With the intervening doors open, I presume?"
"Wide open, as they are now," said Alice. "The other two doors were
shut. Lady Sarah came up from dinner almost directly; and then, as it
appears, the bracelet was not there."
"You are quite certain of that?"
"I am quite certain," interposed Lady Sarah. "I looked particularly
for that bracelet: not seeing it, I supposed Miss Seaton had not laid
it out. I chose out a pair, put them on, returned the others to the
box, and saw Miss Dalrymple lock it."
"Then your ladyship did not miss the bracelet at that time?"
questioned Mr. Pullet.
"I did not miss it in one sense, because I did not know it had been
put out," she returned. "I saw it was not there."
"But did you not miss it?" he asked of Alice.
"I only reached the table as Lady Sarah was closing the lid of the
box," she answered. "Lady Frances Chenevix had detained me in the
front-room."
"My sister," explained Lady Sarah. "She is staying with me, and had
come up with me from dinner."
"You say you went and sat in the front-room," resumed the officer to
Alice, in a quicker tone than he had used previously; "will you show
me where?"
Alice did not stir; she only turned her head towards the front-room,
and pointed to a chair a little drawn away from the window. "In that
chair," she said. "It stood as it stands now."
The officer looked baffled. "You must have had the back-room full in
view from there; both the door and window."
"Quite so," replied Alice. "If you will sit down in it, you will
perceive that I had an uninterrupted view, and faced the doors of both
rooms."
"I perceive that from here. And you saw no one enter?"
"No one did enter. It was impossible any one could do so without my
observing it. Had either of the doors been only quietly unlatched, I
must have both heard and seen."
"And yet the bracelet vanished," interposed Colonel Hope. "They must
have been confoundedly deep, whoever did it; but thieves are said to
possess sleight of hand."
"They are clever enough, some of them," observed the officer.
"Rascally villains! I should like to know how they accomplished this."
"So should I," significantly returned the officer. "At present it
appears to me incomprehensible."
There was a pause; the officer seemed to muse; and Alice, happening to
look up, saw his eyes stealthily studying her face. It did not tend to
reassure her.
"Your servants are trustworthy; they have lived with you some time?"
resumed Mr. Pullet, not apparently attaching much importance to what
the answer might be.
"Were they all escaped convicts, I don't see that it would throw light
on this," retorted Colonel Hope. "If they came into the room to steal
the bracelet, Miss Dalrymple must have seen them."
"From the time you put out the bracelets, to that of the ladies coming
up from dinner, how long was it?" inquired the officer of Alice.
"I scarcely know," panted she. What with his close looks and his close
questions, her breath was growing short. "I did not take particular
notice of the lapse of time: I was not well yesterday evening."
"Was it half-an-hour?"
"Yes--I dare say--nearly so.
"Miss Dalrymple," he continued in a brisk tone, "will you have any
objection to take an oath before a magistrate--in private, you
know--that no person whatever, except yourself, entered either of
these rooms during that period?"
Had she been requested to go before a magistrate to testify that she,
herself, was the guilty person, it could scarcely have affected her
more. Her cheeks grew white, her lips parted, and her eyes assumed a
beseeching look of terror. Lady Sarah Hope hastily pushed a chair
behind her, and drew her down upon it.
"Really, Alice, you are very foolish to allow yourself to be excited
about nothing," she remonstrated: "you would have fallen on the floor
in another minute. What harm is there in taking an oath privately,
when it is to further the ends of justice?"
The officer's eyes were still keenly fixed on Alice Dalrymple's, and
she cowered visibly beneath his gaze. He was puzzled by her evident
terror. "Will you assure me, on your sacred word, that no person did
enter the room?" he repeated in a low, firm tone; which somehow
carried to her the impression that he believed her to be trifling with
them.
She looked at him; gasped, and looked again; and then she raised her
handkerchief in her hand and wiped her ashy face.
"I think some one did come in," whispered the officer in her ear; "try
and recollect who it was." And Alice fell back in hysterics, and was
taken from the room.
"Miss Dalrymple has been an invalid for years; she is not strong, like
other people," remarked Lady Sarah. "I felt sure we should have a
scene of some kind, and that is why I wished the investigation not to
be gone into hurriedly."
"Don't you think there are good grounds for an investigation, sir?"
testily asked Colonel Hope of the officer.
"I must confess I do think so, colonel," was the reply.
"Of course:
you hear, my lady. The difficulty is, how can we obtain the first clue
to the mystery?"
"I do not suppose there will be an insuperable difficulty," observed
Mr. Pullet. "I believe I have obtained one."
"You are a clever fellow, then," cried the colonel, "if you have
obtained it here. What is the clue?"
"Will Lady Sarah allow me to mention it--whatever it may be--without
taking offence?" continued the officer, looking at her ladyship.
She bowed her head, wondering much.
"What's the good of standing upon ceremony?" peevishly put in Colonel
Hope. "Her ladyship will be as glad as we shall be to get back her
bracelet; more glad, one would think. A clue to the thief! Who is it?"
Mr. Pullet smiled. When men have been as long in the police force as
he had, they give every word its due significance. "I did not say a
clue to the thief, colonel: I said a clue to the mystery."
"Where's the difference?"
"Pardon me, it is perceptible. That the bracelet is gone is a palpable
fact: but by whose hands it went is as yet a mystery."
"What do you suspect?"
"I suspect," returned the officer, lowering his voice, "that Miss
Dalrymple knows how it went."
There was a silence of surprise; on Lady Sarah's part, of indignation.
"Is it possible that you suspect _her?_" demanded Colonel Hope.
"No," said the officer, "I do not suspect herself: she appears not to
be a suspicious person in any way: but I believe she knows who the
delinquent is, and that fear, or some other motive, keeps her silent.
Is she on familiar terms with any of the servants?"
"But you cannot know what you are saying!" interrupted Lady Sarah.
"Familiar with the servants! Miss Dalrymple is a gentlewoman; she has
always moved in good society. Her family is little inferior to mine;
and better--better than the colonel's," concluded her ladyship,
determined to speak out.
"Madam," said the officer, "you must be aware that in an investigation
of this nature we are compelled to put questions which we do not
expect to be answered in the affirmative. Colonel Hope will understand
what I mean, when I say that we call them 'feelers.' I did not expect
to hear that Miss Dalrymple had been on familiar terms with your
servants (though it might have been); but that question, being
disposed of, will lead me to another. I suspect that some one did
enter the room and make free with the bracelet, and that Miss
Dalrymple must have been cognizant of it. If a common thief, or an
absolute stranger, she would have been the first to give the alarm: if
not on too familiar terms with the servants, she would be as little
likely to screen them. So we come to the question--whom could it have
been?"
"May I inquire why you suspect this of Miss Dalrymple?" coldly
demanded Lady Sarah.
"Entirely from her manner; from the agitation she displays."
"Most young ladies, particularly in our class of life, would betray
agitation at being brought face to face with a police-officer," urged
Lady Sarah.
"My lady," he returned, "we are keen, experienced men: and we should
not be fit for the office we hold if we were not. We generally do find
lady witnesses betray uneasiness when first exposed to our questions,
but in a very short time, often in a few moments, it wears off, and
they grow gradually easy. It was not so with Miss Dalrymple. Her
agitation, excessive at first, increased visibly, and it ended as you
saw. I did not think it the agitation of guilt, but I did think it
that of conscious fear. And look at the related facts: that she laid
the bracelets there, never left them, no one came in, and yet the most
valuable one vanished. We have many extraordinary tales brought before
us, but not quite so extraordinary as that."
The colonel nodded approbation. Lady Sarah began to feel
uncomfortable.
"I should like to know whether any one called whilst you were at
dinner," mused the officer. "Can I see the man who attends to the
hall-door?"
"Thomas attends to that," said the colonel, ringing the bell. "There
is a side-door, but that is only for the servants and tradespeople."
"I heard Thomas say that Sir George Danvers called whilst we were at
dinner," observed Lady Sarah. "No one else. And Sir George did not go
upstairs."
The detective smiled. "If he had gone, my lady, it would have made the
case no clearer."
"No," laughed Lady Sarah; "poor old Sir George would be puzzled what
to do with a diamond bracelet."
"Will you tell me," said the officer, wheeling sharply round upon
Thomas when he entered, "who it was that called here yesterday
evening, while your master was at dinner? I do not mean Sir George
Danvers; the other one."
Thomas visibly hesitated: and that was sufficient for the lynx-eyed
officer. "Nobody called but Sir George, sir," he presently said.
The detective stood before the man, staring him full in the face, with
a look of amusement. "Think again, my man," quoth he. "Take your time.
There was some one else."
The colonel fell into an explosion: reproaching the unfortunate Thomas
with having eaten his bread for five years in India, to turn upon the
house and its master at last, and act the part of a deceitful,
conniving wretch, and let in that swindler----
"He is not a swindler, sir," interrupted Thomas.
"Oh no, not a swindler," roared the colonel; "he only steals diamond
bracelets."
"No more than I steal 'em, sir," again spoke Thomas. "He's not
capable, sir. It was Mr. Gerard."
The colonel was struck speechless: his rage vanished, and down he sat
in a chair, staring at Thomas. Lady Sarah coloured with surprise.
"Now, my man," cried the officer, "why could you not have said it was
Mr. Gerard?"
"Because Mr. Gerard asked me not to say he had been, sir. He is not
friendly here, just now; and I promised him I would not. And I am
sorry to have had to break my word."
"Who is Mr. Gerard, pray?"
"He is my nephew," interposed the checkmated colonel. "Gerard Hope."
"But, as Thomas says, he is no swindler," remarked Lady Sarah: "he is
not the thief. You may go, Thomas."
"No, sir," stormed the colonel; "fetch Miss Dalrymple here first. I'll
come to the bottom of this. If he has done it, Lady Sarah, I will
bring him to trial: though he is Gerard Hope."
Alice came back, leaning on the arm of Lady Frances Chenevix; the
latter having been dying with curiosity to come in before.
"So the mystery is out, ma'am," began the colonel, to Miss Dalrymple:
"it appears this gentleman was right, and that somebody did come in.
And that somebody was the rebellious Mr. Gerard Hope."
Alice was prepared for this, for Thomas had told her Mr. Gerard's
visit was known; and she was not so much agitated as before. It was
the fear of its being found out, the having to conceal it which had
troubled her.
"It is not possible that Gerard can have taken the bracelet," said
Lady Sarah.
"No, it is not possible," replied Alice. "And that is why I was
unwilling to mention his having come up."
"What did he come for?" thundered the colonel.
"It was not an intentional visit. I believe he only followed the
impulse of the moment. He saw me at the front window; and Thomas, it
appears, was standing at the door. He ran across, and came up."
"I think you might have said so, Alice," observed Lady Sarah, in a
stiff tone.
"Knowing he had been forbidden the house, I did not wish to bring him
under the colonel's displeasure," was all the excuse Alice could
offer. "It was not my place to tell of it."
"I presume he approached sufficiently near the bracelets to touch
them, had he wished?" observed the officer, who of course had now
made up his mind upon the business--and upon the thief.
"Y--es," returned Alice, wishing she could have said "No."
"Did you notice the bracelet there, after he was gone?"
"I cannot say I did. I followed him from the room when he left, and
then I went into the front-room, so that I had no opportunity of
observing the bracelets."
"The doubt is solved," was the mental comment of the detective
officer.
The colonel, hot and hasty, sent several servants various ways in
search of Gerard Hope. He was speedily found, and brought; coming in
with a smile on his frank, good-looking face.
"Take him into custody, officer," was the colonel's impetuous command.
"Hands off, Mr. Officer--if you are an officer," cried Gerard, in the
first shock of the surprise, as he glanced at the gentlemanly
appearance of the other, who wore plain clothes. "You shall not touch
me, unless you can show legal authority. This is a shameful trick.
Colonel--excuse me for speaking plainly--as I owe nothing to you, I do
not see that you have any right, or power, to bring about my arrest."
The group would have made a fine study: especially Gerard, his head
thrown back in defiance, and looking angrily at every one.
"Did you hear me?" cried the colonel.
"I must do my duty," said the police-officer, approaching Gerard. "And
for authority--you need not suppose I should act without it."
"Allow me to understand a little, first," remarked Gerard, haughtily
eluding the officer. "What is it for? What is the sum total?"
"Two hundred and fifty pounds," growled the colonel. "But if you are
thinking to compromise it in that way, young sir, you will find
yourself mistaken."
"Oh, no fear," retorted Gerard; "I have not two hundred and fifty
pence. Let me see: it must be Dobbs's. A hundred and sixty--how on
earth do they slide the expenses up? I did it, sir, to oblige a
friend."
"The deuce you did!" echoed the colonel, who understood nothing of the
speech except the last sentence. "I never saw a cooler villain in all
my experience!"
"He was awfully hard up," went on Gerard, "as much so as I am now; and
I did it. I don't deny having done such things on my own account, but
from this particular one I did not benefit a shilling."
His calm assurance, and his words, struck them with consternation. You
see, he and they were at cross-purposes.
"Dobbs said he'd take care I should be put to no inconvenience--and
this comes of it! That's trusting your friends. He vowed to me, this
very week, that he had provided for the bill."
"He thinks it is only an affair of debt!" screamed Frances Chenevix.
"Oh, Gerard what a relief! We thought you were confessing."
"You are not arrested for debt, sir," explained the officer. "You are
apprehended for--in short, it is a case of felony."
"Felony!" echoed Gerard Hope. "Oh, indeed! Could you not make it
murder?" he added, with sarcasm.
"Off with him to Marlborough Street, officer," cried the exasperated
colonel; "I'll come with you, and prefer the charge. He scoffs at it,
does he?"
"Yes, that I do," answered Gerard. "Whatever pitfalls I may have
walked into in the way of debt and carelessness, I have not gone in
for felony."
"You are accused, sir," said the officer, "of stealing a diamond
bracelet."
"Hey!" uttered Gerard, a flash of intelligence rising to his face, as
he glanced at Alice. "I might have guessed it was the bracelet affair,
if I had had my recollection about me."
"Oh, oh," triumphed the colonel, in mocking jocularity. "So you
expected it was the bracelet, did you? We shall have it all out
presently."
"I heard of the bracelet's disappearance," said Gerard. "I met Alice
when she was out this morning, and she told me it was gone."
"Better make no admissions," whispered the officer in his ear. "They
may be used against you."
"Whatever admissions I may make, you are at liberty to use them,"
haughtily returned Gerard. "Is it possible that you do suspect me of
taking the bracelet, uncle?--or is this a joke?"
"Allow me to say a word," panted Alice, stepping forward. "I--I--did
not accuse you, Mr. Hope; I would not have mentioned your name in
connection with it, because I am sure you are innocent; but when it
was discovered that you had called, I could not deny that you were
upstairs while the bracelets lay on the table."
"Of course I was. But the idea of my taking one is absurdly
preposterous," went on Gerard. "Who accuses me?"
"I do," said Colonel Hope.
"Then I am very sorry it is not somebody else, sir, instead of you."
"Explain. Why?"
"Because they should get a kindly taste of my cane across their
shoulders."
"Gerard," interrupted Lady Sarah, "do not treat it in that light way.
If you did take the bracelet, say so, and you shall be forgiven. I am
sure you must have been put to it terribly hard; only confess it, and
the matter shall be hushed up."
"No, it shan't, my lady," cried the colonel. "I will not have him
encouraged--I mean, felony compounded."
"It shall," persisted Lady Sarah, "it shall, indeed. The bracelet was
mine, and I have a right to do as I please. Believe me, Gerard, I will
put up with the loss without a murmur; only confess, and let the worry
be done with."
Gerard Hope looked at her: little trace of shame was there in his
countenance. "Lady Sarah," he asked in a deeply earnest tone, "can you
indeed deem me capable of taking your bracelet?"
"The bracelet was there, sir; and it went; and you can't deny it,"
cried the colonel.
"The bracelet was there, sure enough," assented Gerard. "I held it in
my hand for two or three minutes, and was talking to Alice about it. I
told her I wished it was mine--and I said what I should do with it if
it was."
"Oh, Mr. Hope, pray say no more," involuntarily interrupted Alice.
"What do you want to screen him for?" impetuously broke forth the
colonel, turning upon Alice. "Let him say what he was going to say."
"I do not know why I should not say it," Gerard Hope answered, in his
spirit of bravado, which he disdained to check. "I said I should
pledge it."
"You'll send off to every pawnbroker's in the metropolis, before the
night's over, Mr. Officer," cried the choking colonel, breathless with
rage. "This beats everything."
"But I did not take it any the more for having said that," put in
Gerard, in a graver tone. "The remark might have been made by any one,
from a duke downwards, if reduced to his last shifts, as I am. I said
_if_ it were mine: I did not say I would steal it. Nor did I."
"I saw him put it down again," said Alice, in a calm, steady voice.
"Allow me to speak a word, colonel," resumed Lady Sarah, interrupting
what her husband was about to say. "Gerard--I cannot believe you
guilty; but consider the circumstances. The bracelet was there; you
acknowledge it: Alice left the apartment when you did, and went into
the front-room, and stayed there with the bracelet in view. Yet when I
came up from dinner, it was gone."
The colonel would speak. "So it lies between you and Miss Alice," he
put in. "Perhaps you would like us to believe she appropriated it."
"No," answered Gerard, with a flashing eye. "She cannot be doubted. I
would rather take the guilt upon myself, than allow her to be
suspected. Believe me, Lady Sarah, we are both innocent."
"The bracelet could not have gone without hands to take it, Gerard,"
replied Lady Sarah. "How else do you account for its disappearance?"
"I believe there must be some misapprehension, some great mistake, in
the affair altogether, Lady Sarah. It appears incomprehensible now;
but it will be unravelled."
"Ay, and in double-quick time," wrathfully exclaimed the colonel. "You
must think you are talking to a pack of idiots, Master Gerard. Here
the bracelet was spread temptingly out on a table; you went into the
room, being hard up for money, fingered it, wished for it, and both
you and the bracelet disappeared. Sir"--turning sharply round to Mr.
Pullet--"did a clearer case ever go before a jury!" Gerard Hope bit
his lip. "Be more just, colonel," said he. "Your own brother's son
steal a bracelet!"
"And I am happy my brother is not alive to know it," rejoined the
colonel, in an obstinate tone. "Take him in hand, Mr. Officer: we'll
go to Marlborough Street. I'll just change my coat, and----"
"No, no, you will not," cried Lady Sarah, laying hold of the
dressing-gown and the colonel in it. "You shall not go; or Gerard,
either. Whether he is guilty or not, it must not be brought against
him publicly. He bears your name, colonel, and so do I, and it would
reflect disgrace on us all."
"Perhaps you are made of money, my lady. If so, you may put up with
the loss of a two hundred-and-fifty guinea bracelet. I don't choose to
do so."
"Then, colonel, you will and you must. Sir," added Lady Sarah to the
detective, "we are obliged to you for your attendance and advice, but
it turns out to be a family affair, as you perceive, and we must
decline to prosecute. Besides, Mr. Hope may not be guilty."
Alice rose, and stood before Colonel Hope. "Sir, if this charge were
preferred against your nephew; if it came to trial; I think it would
kill me. You know my unfortunate state of health; the agitation, the
excitement of appearing to give evidence would be--I--I cannot
continue; I cannot speak of it without terror. I _pray_ you, for my
sake, do not prosecute Mr. Gerard."
The colonel was about to storm forth an answer, but her white face,
her heaving throat, had some effect upon him. Perhaps, also, he was
thinking of his dead brother. "He is so doggedly obstinate, you see,
Miss Dalrymple! If he would only confess, and tell where it is,
perhaps I'd let him off."
Alice thought some one else was obstinate. "I do not believe he has
anything to confess," she deliberately said; "I truly believe that he
has not. He could not have taken it, unseen by me: and when we quitted
the room, I feel sure the bracelet was left in it."
"It was," said Gerard. "When I left the room, I left the bracelet in
it, so help me Heaven!"
"And, now, I shall speak," put in Frances Chenevix. "Colonel, if you
press the charge against Gerard, I will go before the magistrate, and
proclaim myself the thief. I vow and protest I will; just to save him.
And you and Sarah could not prosecute _me_, you know."
"_You_ do well to stand up for him!" retorted the colonel. "You would
not be quite so ready to do it, my Lady Fanny, if you knew something I
could tell you."
"Oh yes, I should," returned the young lady, with a vivid blush.
The colonel, beset on all sides, had no choice but to submit; but he
did so with an ill grace, and dashed out of the room with Mr. Pullet
as fiercely as though he had been charging an enemy at full tilt. "The
sentimental apes these women make themselves!" cried he, in his polite
way, when he got Mr. Pullet in private. "Is it not a clear case of
guilt?"
"In my private opinion, it certainly is," was the reply; "though he
carries it off with a high hand. I suppose, colonel, you still wish
the bracelet to be searched for?"
"Search in and out, high and low; search everywhere. The rascal! to
dare even to enter my house in secret!"
"May I be allowed to inquire, colonel, whether the previous
estrangement between you and your nephew had anything to do with money
matters?"
"No," said the colonel, turning more crusty at the thoughts called up.
"I fixed upon a wife for him, and he wouldn't have her; so I turned
him out-of-doors and stopped his allowance."
"Oh," was the only comment of Mr. Pullet.
So Gerard was allowed to go out of the house, a free man.
It was the following week, and Saturday night. Thomas was standing at
Colonel Hope's door without his hat, a pastime he much favoured,
chatting sociably with an acquaintance, when he perceived Gerard come
tearing up the street. Thomas's friend backed against the rails and
the spikes, and Thomas himself stood with the door in his hand, ready
to touch his hair to Mr. Gerard, as he passed. Instead of passing,
however, Gerard cleared the steps at a bound, pulled Thomas with
himself inside, shut the door, and double-locked it.
Thomas was surprised in all ways. Not only at Mr. Hope's coming in at
all, for the colonel had most solemnly interdicted it, but at the
suddenness and strangeness of the action.
"Cleverly done," quoth Gerard, when he could get his breath. "I saw a
shark after me, Thomas, and had to make a bolt for it. Your having
been at the door saved me."
Thomas turned pale. "Mr. Gerard, you have locked it, and I'll put up
the chain, if you order me, but I'm afeard it's going again' the law
to keep out them detectives by force of arms."
"What is the man's head running on now?" returned Gerard. "There are
no detectives after me: it was only a seedy sheriff's officer. Psha,
Thomas! there's no worse crime attaching to me than a slight suspicion
of debt."
"I'm sure I trust not, sir: only master will have his own way."
"Is he at home?"
"He is gone to the opera with my lady. The young ladies are upstairs
alone. Miss Dalrymple has been ill, sir, ever since the bother of the
bracelet, and Lady Frances is staying at home with her."
"I'll go up and see them. If the colonel and my lady are at the opera,
we shall be snug and safe."
"Oh, Mr. Gerard, had you better go up, do you think?" the man ventured
to remark. "If the colonel should come to hear of it----"
"How can he? You are not going to tell him, and I am sure the young
ladies will not. Besides, there's no help for it: I can't go out again
for hours yet. And, Thomas, if any demon should knock and ask for me,
I am gone to--to--an evening party at Putney: went out, you know, by
the other door."
Thomas watched him run up the stairs, and shook his head, thinking
deeply. "One can't help liking him, with it all; though where could
the bracelet have gone to, if he did not take it?"
The drawing-rooms were empty, and Gerard made his way to a small room
that Lady Sarah called her boudoir. There they were: Alice buried in
the pillows of an invalid-chair, and Lady Frances careering about the
room, apparently practising some new mode of waltzing. She did not see
him: Gerard danced up to her, took her hands, and joined in it.
"Oh!" she cried, with a little scream of surprise, "you! Well, I have
stayed at home to some purpose. But how could you think of venturing
within these sacred and forbidden walls? Do you forget that the
colonel threatens us with the terrors of the law, if we suffer you to
enter? You are a bold man, Gerard."
"When the cat's away, the mice can play," said Gerard, treating them
to a pas seul.
"Mr. Hope!" remonstrated Alice, lifting her feeble voice. "How can you
indulge in these light spirits while things are so miserable?"
"Sighing and groaning won't make things better," he answered, sitting
down on a sofa near to Alice. "Here's a seat for you, Fanny; come
along," he added, pulling Frances to his side. "First and foremost,
has anything come to light about that mysterious bracelet?"
"Net yet," sighed Alice. "But I have no rest: I am in hourly fear of
it."
"_Fear!_" uttered Gerard, in astonishment.
Alice winced, and leaned her head upon her hand: she spoke in a low
tone.
"You must understand what I mean. The affair has been productive of so
much pain and annoyance to me, that I wish it could be ignored for
ever."
"Though it left me under a cloud," said Gerard. "You must pardon me,
if I cannot agree with you. My constant hope is, that daylight may
soon be let in upon it. I assure you I have specially mentioned it in
my prayers."
"Pray don't!" reproved Alice.
"I'm sure I have cause to mention it, for it is sending me into exile.
That, and other things."
"It is the guilty only who flee, not the innocent," said Frances. "You
don't mean what you say, Gerard."
"Don't I! There's a certain boat advertised to steam from London
Bridge Wharf tomorrow, wind and weather permitting, and it will steam
me with it. I am compelled to fly my country."
"Be serious, and say what you mean."
"Seriously, then, I am over head and ears in debt. You know my uncle
stopped my allowance in the spring, and sent me--metaphorically
speaking--to the dogs. It got wind; ill news always does get wind; I
had a few liabilities, and they have all come down upon me. But for
this confounded bracelet affair, there's no doubt the colonel would
have settled them, rather than let the name of Hope be dubiously
bandied about by the public; he would have expended his ire in growls,
and then gone and paid up. But that resource is over now; and I go to
take up my abode in some renowned colony for desolate Home subjects,
beyond the pale of British lock-ups. Boulogne, or Calais, or Dieppe,
or Ostend; I don't know which of the four I shall stay in: and there
I may be kept for years."
Neither of the young ladies answered immediately. They saw the facts
were difficult, and that Gerard was only making light of it before
them.
"How shall you live?" questioned Alice. "You must live there as well
as here: you cannot starve."
"I shall just escape the starving. I am possessed of a trifle: enough
to keep me on potatoes and salt. Upon my word, it's little more.
Perhaps I may get some writing to do for the newspapers? Don't you
envy me my prospects?"
"When do you suppose you may return?" inquired Lady Frances. "I ask it
seriously, Gerard."
"I know no more than you, Fanny. I have no expectations but from the
colonel. Should he never relent, I am caged there for good."
"And so you have ventured here to tell us this; and to bid us
good-bye?"
"No; I never thought of venturing here," was the candid answer: "how
could I tell that the Bashaw would be at the opera? A shark set on me
in the street, and I had to run for my life. Thomas happened to be
conveniently at the open door, and I rushed in, and saved myself."
"A shark!" exclaimed Alice, her inexperience taking the words
literally--"a shark in the street!" Frances Chenevix laughed.
"One with sharp eyes and nimble feet, Alice, speeding after me with a
polite invitation from one of the law lords. He is watching outside
now."
"How shall you get away?" wondered Frances.
"If the Bashaw comes home before twelve, Thomas must dispose of me
somewhere in the lower regions: Sunday is a free day for us, thank
goodness. So please to make the most of me, both of you, for it is the
last time you will have the privilege. By the way, Fanny, will you do
me a favour? There used to be a little book of mine in the glass
book-case in the library; my name in it, and a mottled cover: I wish
you would go and find it for me."
Lady Frances left the room with alacrity. Gerard immediately bent over
Alice, and his tone changed.
"I have sent her away on purpose. She'll be half-an-hour rummaging,
for I have not seen the book there for ages. Alice, one word before we
part. You must know that it was for your sake I refused the marriage
proposed to me by my uncle: you will not let me go into banishment
without a hope; a promise of your love to lighten it."
"Oh, Gerard," she eagerly said, "I am so glad you have spoken: I
almost think I must have spoken myself, if you had not. Just look at
me?"
"I am looking at you," he fondly answered.
"Then look at my hectic face; my constantly tired limbs; my sickly
hands: do they not plainly tell you that the topics you would speak of
must be barred topics to me?"
"Why should they be? You will get stronger."
"Never. There is no hope of it. Many years ago, when the illness first
came upon me, the doctors said I might grow better with time, but the
time has come, and come, and come, and--gone; and it has only left me
a more confirmed invalid. To an old age I cannot live; most probably
but a few years. Ask yourself, Gerard, if I am one who ought to marry,
and leave behind a husband to regret me; perhaps children. No, no."
"You are cruel, Alice."
"The cruelty would be, if I selfishly allowed you to talk of love to
me; or, still more selfishly, let you cherish hopes that I would
marry. When you hinted at this the other evening, the evening that
wretched bracelet was lost, I reproached myself with cowardice, in not
answering more plainly than you had spoken. I should have told you,
Gerard, as I tell you now, that nothing, no persuasion from even the
dearest person on earth, shall ever induce me to marry."
"You dislike me. I see that."
"I did not say so," answered Alice, with a glowing cheek. "I think it
very possible that--if I could allow myself ever to dwell on such
things--I should like you very much; perhaps better than I could like
any one."
"And why will you not?" he persuasively uttered.
"Gerard, I have told you. I am too weak and sickly to be other than I
am. It would be a sin, in me, to indulge hopes of it: it would only be
deceiving myself and you. No, Gerard, my love and hopes must lie
elsewhere."
"Where?" he eagerly asked.
Alice pointed upwards. "I am learning to look upon it as my home," she
whispered, "and I must not suffer hindrances to obscure the way. It
will be a better home than even your love, Gerard."
Gerard Hope smiled. "Even than my love: Alice, you like me more than
you admit. Unsay your words, my dearest, and give me hope."
"Do not vex me," she resumed, in a pained tone; "do not seek to turn
me from my duty. I--I--though I scarcely like to speak of these sacred
things, Gerard--_I have put my hand to the plough_: even you cannot
turn me back."
He did not answer; he only played with the hand he held between both
of his.
"Tell me one thing, Gerard: it will be safe. Was not the dispute about
Frances Chenevix?"
He contracted his brow; and nodded.
"And you could refuse her! You must learn to love her, for she would
make you a good wife."
"Much chance there is now of my making a wife of any one!"
"Oh, this will blow over in time: I feel it will. Meanwhile----"
"Meanwhile you destroy every hopeful feeling I thought to take with me
to cheer me in my exile," was his impatient interruption. "I love you
alone, Alice; I have loved you for months, nay years, truly,
fervently; and I know that you must have seen that I did."
"Love me still, Gerard," she softly answered; "but not with the love
you would give to one of earth: the love you will give--I hope--to
Frances Chenevix. Think of me as one rapidly going; soon to be gone."
"Oh, not yet!" he cried in an imploring tone, as if it were to be as
she willed.
"Not just yet: I hope to see you return from exile. Let us say
farewell while we are alone."
She spoke the last sentence hurriedly, for footsteps were heard.
Gerard snatched her to him, and laid his face upon hers.
"What cover did you say the book had?" demanded Frances Chenevix of
Gerard, who was then leaning back on the sofa, apparently waiting for
her. "A mottled? I cannot see one anything like it."
"No? I am sorry to have given you the trouble, Fanny. It has gone,
perhaps, amongst the 'have-beens.'"
"Listen," said Alice, removing her hand from before her face, "I hear
a carriage stopping. Can they have come home?"
Frances and Gerard flew into the next room, whence the street could be
seen. A carriage had stopped, but not at their house. "It is too early
for them yet," said Gerard.
"I am sorry things go so cross just now with you, Gerard," whispered
Lady Frances. "You will be very dull over there."
"Ay; fit to hang myself, if you knew all. And the bracelet may turn
up, and Lady Sarah be sporting it on her arm again, and I never know
that the cloud is off me. No chance that any of you will be at the
trouble of writing to a fellow."
"I will," said Frances. "Whether the bracelet turns up, or not, I will
write to you sometimes, if you like, Gerard, and give you all the
news."
"You are a good girl, Fanny," returned he, in a brighter accent, "and
I will send you my address as soon as I possess one. You are not to
turn proud, mind, and be off the bargain, if you find it to be in a
fish-market, au cinquième."
Frances laughed. "Take care of yourself, Gerard."
He took leave of them, and got out by the aid of Thomas, contriving to
elude the shark. And the next day the friendly steamer conveyed him
into exile on other shores. The prevalent opinion at Colonel Hope's
was, that he paid his expenses with the proceeds of the diamond
bracelet.
Perhaps it was not only the "bother of the bracelet" as Thomas phrased
it, that was rendering Alice Dalrymple so miserable. That, of course,
was bad enough to bear, from its very uncertainty. But she was in
trouble about her sister. Selina's debts had become known to the
world, and the embarrassment into which they had flung her husband.
What with her seven thousand pounds (at least) of debts, and the
liabilities cast on Oscar by the two London seasons, he owed a sum of
ten thousand pounds.
How was he to pay it? He knew not. That he should be a crippled man
for years and years, obliged to live in the nearest possible way,
before the debts and their attendant costs, in the shape of interest
and expenses, could be worked off, he knew. Selina knew it now, and
had the grace to feel repentant. They had shut themselves up at Moat
Grange, were "immured in it," Selina called it, every outlay of every
kind being cut down.
All these things tried Alice; and would try her more as the days went
on. There was no corner on earth to which she could turn for comfort.
In the silent watches of the night, in the broad glare of noonday, one
question was ever tormenting her brain--which of the two had taken the
bracelet? Impossible though it seemed to suspect either of stealing
it, emphatically though they both denied it, common sense told Alice
Dalrymple that one of them it must have been.