THE LAST TWIST IN THE YARN
"This alarming discovery," proceeded Sir Bromley, "caused an alteration
in Mr. Goode's plans.
"The doctor was so horrified at the idea of being compelled to live in
the same house with so dangerous a charge that he threw up his
remunerative appointment, with a promise of secrecy, leaving Goode to
his own devices. This was less than a year ago. The doctor had given his
opinion that the child--he was really a boy of sixteen--could not live
more than a few months, but the merchant felt his position was not safe,
for the young doctor had settled down to practice in the neighbourhood.
It was absolutely necessary to leave Scotland, and one day, after
nightfall, a special train carried an old gentleman, with a number of
large packages, one labelled 'Live dog, with care,' being taken in the
carriage to Derby, where sundry moves were made in order to throw a
possible pursuer or busybody off the track.
"Shortly after, a Major Jones-Farnell moved into Durley Dene after
carefully arranging matters with a house agent. At Derby, a servant had
been engaged by Mr. Goode, and this servant reappeared at Northden with
Farnell. He had been discovered by mere chance. His name was Horncastle,
and he had escaped from Dartmoor a few months before.
"To alter my story from the third to the first person, I had obtained
the very creature I required--a strong man, who would be of real
assistance to me in the care of the maniac prince, and one who, instead
of being able to hold the threat of exposing my secret over my head,
would be unable to breathe a word of it, for fear I in my turn should
betray his secret--that he was a convict, wanted by the police.
"Unfortunately, the man soon perceived that I was more in his power than
he in mine. My secret was one that I would not risk being revealed in
order to punish Horncastle by handing him over to the police for his
frequent misbehaviour. He compelled me to pay him good wages, and supply
him with unlimited quantities of drink. Fortunately, he was never drunk,
in spite of what he took. I say fortunately, for had he ever visited the
room in which our prisoner was shut up while intoxicated, the cunning
maniac would have certainly effected his escape, with dire results--to
me, to the Princess H----, in fact, to Great Britain, for he would have
at once been recognised, since the boy was the very image of his dead
father, whose features were well known to all who had ever opened an
illustrated magazine, or inspected photographs in the book-sellers'
windows.
"The lunatic was as cunning as he was powerful. I need not refer to the
terrible cries he was wont to utter, for I believe at least one of you
heard a specimen of his heart-breaking screams. At last it became
necessary to drive him into a corner whenever the door of his cell was
opened. Accordingly I sent Horncastle out one day for a whip, with which
we were able to frighten him off when he attacked us. By the way, I
presume I need not explain why the convict disguised himself as a woman.
You will have already guessed as much.
"You will know, too, why you were not allowed to expose what you have so
fancifully described as the 'House of Strange Secrets.' I think that is
all.
"My patient was released from his sufferings last night. He was first
taken dangerously ill when you visited me for the second time. He was
buried by me at midnight. I have informed the unhappy Princess H---- of
the fact, and expect to hear soon from her, and know whether all I have
done has been satisfactory. It seems strange to have to bury a Royal
child in unconsecrated ground, but what else could I do?
"My duty to my country, for I consider it amounts to that, is
accomplished. To-morrow Major Jones-Farnell and likewise Doctor Orlando
Meadows will cease to exist, and the world will shortly learn that, by a
strange series of circumstances, Sir Bromley Lestrange has returned from
the grave. It will appear that he did not die of cholera, but while very
unwell was kidnapped by Chinese pirates, by whom he was kept a prisoner
for over a dozen years. He recently escaped, after hair-raising
adventures, and returns to tell one of the strangest stories it is
possible to imagine!
"What about Horncastle, do you say? Oh, I settled that gentleman very
easily. Directly after the death of my charge I paid him a month's
salary, and despatched him promptly, in his female disguise. He daren't
betray my secret. If he did, who would believe him--a criminal and a
convict of the worst type? Besides, he could never find the boy's grave.
And I know he would not, even in revenge for his dismissal, sacrifice
his liberty for some five or six years. No; I don't think we shall hear
much more of Mr. Horncastle.
"Now, Miss Scott, I must bid you farewell for the present. If in my new
capacity I shall be so fortunate as to receive an opportunity of
renewing our slight acquaintance, we must meet as strangers. You must
never have met Sir Bromley Lestrange before. And the same applies to
you, Carrington; is it not so?
"Well, I see that, now you have got all you want out of me, I am one too
many. No? Ah, you are too polite to say so, but I was young once,
and----To-morrow you will find the Dene uninhabited, the furniture it
contains being left as a present to the next tenant. If you care for any
little memento, you are at liberty to adopt Horncastle's profession for
the nonce--you will find the door unlocked, and the old house is no
longer a hiding-place for secrets and bogies. Well, good-bye. I think I
have earned my rest."
He rose, and the young couple accompanied him to the door, where they
took a cordial leave of him.
Returning to the drawing-room, Laurence informed his fair companion of
the remarks made by Mrs. Knox.
"She said that we were to settle the matter ourselves," he added; "and
now, dear, that the mystery is solved, you have no excuse for
withholding your answer. What is it to be--Lena?" He paused, from
nervousness, then proceeded, when the girl hung her head and made no
reply: "You know your aunt would be very disappointed if you didn't
accept her choice of a husband!"
"Auntie wouldn't care in the least," replied Lena, laughing lightly.
"You won't be angry, will you, if I confess I told her to say what she
did?"
"Lena!"
"I thought it would be such a splendid joke to pretend I was already
engaged, only auntie didn't keep it up long enough. She's a good old
thing, rather dense, but good nature itself. I can twist her round my
little finger."
"That's not the question," replied Laurence, seizing the
opportunity--and her hand; "what I want to know is if I may twist
something else--not Mrs. Knox--round one of your little fingers. May I?"
Lena's reply was not a verbal one, but it was quite as expressive as any
words could have been!
THE END
End of Project Gutenberg's The House of Strange Secrets, by A. Eric Bayly