THE PEACEMAKER
“Bless my soul!” said General Bartholomew. He had turned to the last
page and looked at the signature. “Alicia Linden! I haven’t heard a
word of her for five and twenty years. A confoundedly handsome girl she
was too. Hudson, where’s my glasses?”
“Here, General,” said the young secretary.
The General put them on.
“My dear George,” he read.
It was a long letter, four pages closely written in Lady Linden’s
strong, almost masculine hand.
“...I remember that when she visited me years ago, she told that me you
were an old friend of her father’s. This being so, I think you should
combine with me in trying to bring these two wrong-headed young people
together. I have quarrelled with Hugh Alston, so I can do nothing at
the moment; but you, being on the spot so to speak, in London, and Hugh
I understand also being in London...”
“What the dickens is the woman drivelling about?” the General demanded.
“Hudson!”
“Yes, sir!”
“Read this letter carefully, digest it, and then briefly explain to me
what the dickens it is all about.”
The secretary took the letter and read it carefully.
“This letter is from Lady Linden, of Cornbridge Manor House,
Cornbridge. She is deeply interested in a young lady, Miss Joan
Meredyth. At least—” Hudson paused.
“Joan, pretty little Joan Meredyth—old Tom Meredyth’s girl. Yes, go
on!”
“Three years ago,” Hudson went on, “Miss Meredyth was married in secret
to a Mr. Hugh Alston—”
“Hugh Alston, of course—bless me, I know of Hugh Alston! Isn’t he the
son of old George Alston, of Hurst Dormer?”
“Yes, that would be the man, sir. Her ladyship speaks of Mr. Alston’s
house, Hurst Dormer.”
“That’s the man then, that’s the man!” said the General, delighted by
his own shrewdness. “So little Joan married him. Well, what about it?”
“They parted, sir, almost at once, having quarrelled bitterly. Lady
Linden does not say what about, and they have never been together
since. A little while ago she received a letter from Miss Meredyth, as
she still continues to call herself, asking her assistance in finding
work for her to do. And that reminds me, General, that a similar letter
was addressed to you by Miss Meredyth, which I sent on to you at
Harrogate.”
“Must have got there after I left. I never had it—go on!”
“Lady Linden urges you to do something for the young lady, and do all
in your power to bring her and Mr. Alston together. She says if you
could effect a surprise meeting between them, good may come of it. She
is under the impression that they will not meet intentionally. Miss
Meredyth’s address is, 7 Bemrose Square, and Mr. Alston is staying at
The Northborough Hotel, St. James. Of course, there is a good deal
besides in the letter, General—”
“Of course!” the General said. “There always is. Well, Hudson, we must
do something. I knew the girl’s father, and the boy’s too. Tom Meredyth
was a fine fellow, reckless and a spendthrift, by George! but as
straight a man and as true a gentleman as ever walked. And old George
Alston was one of my best friends, Hudson. We must do something for
these two young idiots.”
“Very good, sir!” said Hudson. “How shall we proceed?”
The General did not answer; he sat deep in thought.
“Hudson, I am getting to be a forgetful old fool,” he said. “I’m
getting old, that’s what it is. Before I went to Harrogate I was with
Rankin, my solicitor. He was talking to me about the Meredyths. I
forget exactly what it was, but there’s some money coming to the girl
from Bob Meredyth, who went out to Australia. No, I forget, but some
money I know, and now the girl apparently wants it, if she is asking
for influence to get work. Go and ring Rankin up on the telephone.
Don’t tell him we know where Joan Meredyth is, but give him my
compliments, and ask him to repeat what he told me the other day.”
Hudson went out. He was gone ten minutes, while the General dozed in a
chair. He was thinking of the past, of those good old days when he and
Tom Meredyth, the girl’s father, and George Alston, the lad’s father,
were all young fellows together. Ah, good old days, fine old days! When
the young blood coursed strong and hot in the veins, when there was no
need of Harrogate waters, when the limbs were supple and strong, and
the eyes bright and clear. “And they are gone,” the old man
muttered—“both of them, and a lot of other good fellows besides; and I
am an old, old man, begad, an old fellow sitting here waiting for my
call to come and—” He paused, and looked up.
“Well, Hudson?”
“I have been speaking to Mr. Rankin, sir. He wished me to tell you—”
Hudson paused; his face was a little flushed, as with some inward
excitement.
“Go on!”
“Before his death, which occurred six months ago, Mr. Robert Meredyth,
who had made a great deal of money in Australia, re-purchased the old
Meredyth family estate at Starden in Kent, Starden Hall, meaning to
return to England, and take up his residence there. Unfortunately, he
died on board ship. His wife was dead, his only son was killed in the
war, and he had left the whole of his fortune, about three hundred
thousand pounds, and the Starden Hall Estate, to his niece, Miss Joan
Meredyth.”
“By George! so the girl’s an heiress!”
“And a very considerable one!”
“We won’t say a word about it—not a word, Hudson. We’ll get the girl
here, and patch up this quarrel between her and her young husband. When
that’s done we’ll spring the news on ’em, eh?”
“I think it would be a good idea, General,” Hudson said.