THE BROKEN LOCK.
It was quite dusk when Augusta and Nancy found themselves once more
back at Fairleigh. From the moment they left the cross-roads to the
time they reached the house neither of the girls spoke.
Augusta was full of the delights of the past day, and was turning over
in her mind what possible stratagems she might employ to enable her to
see more of the Asprays.
Nancy was equally busy wondering if Uncle Peter had yet arrived; and
when they turned the corner and saw Kitty and Nora each hanging on the
arm of the Captain, she uttered a glad cry and ran forward.
“Ah! here you are. Good-evening, little niece Nancy.—And how are you,
Augusta?”
“I am so sorry we were not here when you arrived, Uncle Peter!” said
Augusta. “We were away at a picnic.”
“I told Uncle Peter you were having a gay time and I did not know when
you would be back,” remarked Nora, “but we waited supper for you all
the same. Shall we go in now?—for I am sure Uncle Peter must be very
hungry.”
“Hungry is no word for it,” cried Captain Richmond. “I am starving.
Don’t stay long tittivating, girls, but come down as soon as ever you
can, for the patience of a hungry man has its limits.”
The four girls ran upstairs laughing merrily.
“Isn’t he nice?” thought Nancy to herself. “Doesn’t he make the whole
house seem breezy and happy? I am glad that he has come. Gussie won’t
dare to tell any more lies now. And I hope—oh! I do hope she won’t
often expect me to go with her to see the Asprays. Oh, to think that I
might have had to live with them! I should indeed have been a most
miserable girl. I would not exchange such darlings as Nora and Kitty
for Flora and Constance Aspray.”
“Are you ready?” cried Kitty at that moment, tapping at the door of
the little girl’s room.
“Yes. Just come in, please, Kitty,” cried Nancy.
Kitty entered. She wore a white dress with a pale-blue sash, and she
looked most sweet and charming.
“Oh, you darling!” said Nancy, running up to her. “I must kiss you—I
must. Oh, how different you are! Oh, it is such a relief to get home
again!”
“What queer, broken sentences, Nancy!” exclaimed Kitty. “Why is it
such a relief to get home; and who am I different from?”
“The Asprays,” said Nancy.
“Then you had not a happy day?”
“Oh, never mind! I suppose I ought to have had.”
“You need not see any more of them; you may be sure of that, Nancy.
Uncle Peter was rather surprised at your both going. I think Uncle
Peter is what you call punctilious—yes, that is the word. I am sure
he won’t let us have anything to say to them until mother returns. But
now let us hurry down to supper. Do you know, Nancy, that he is nicer
than ever, and he has got no end of lovely schemes. I can see that we
are going to have a most heavenly time.”
“Did he—did he say anything,” said Nancy slowly “did he say anything
about our battalion?”
“No; not a single word. I expected him to, and so did Nora; but I
could see that it was in the back of his head all the time. I expect
the grand prize-day, when the best girl receives the Royal Cross, will
take place before we return to town. And, oh, Nancy darling! I have a
shrewd suspicion that you will win.”
“I!” said Nancy. “Certainly not. _I_ am not better than you or
Nora.”
“In some ways you are better. You are more patient; and then, you have
more to put up with. Uncle Peter is the sort of man to take all that
into consideration. He is very just—very just _indeed_—and he
is quite safe to give the cross to the person who has really earned
it.”
“What _are_ you two chattering about?” now came from Augusta. “We
are all waiting downstairs. Do hurry up.”
The girls flew down, their arms encircling each other.
“Oh,” thought Nancy to herself, “how sweet, how delightful is Kitty!
How happy she makes me!”
The dining-room table was prettily laid; the supper was good and
abundant; Uncle Peter had a joke for every one. Never was there a more
delightful meal. When the Captain assured the girls he felt quite like
a paterfamilias with four grown-up daughters, they considered it the
hugest fun in the world, and laughed with uncontrolled delight. But
the gayest of meals come to an end, and once again the little party
went out and paced up and down on the moonlit lawn.
It was now Nancy’s turn to clasp her hand inside Captain Richmond’s
arm, and with Nora on the other side, to walk backwards and forwards
in front of the old house. Meanwhile Kitty and Augusta fell behind the
others.
“I hope you had a good time, Gussie,” said her cousin.
“You mean to-day,” said Augusta. “There is only one word for
to-day—it was _ripping_. Yes; I can call it nothing else. Oh
Kit, you will help me, won’t you?”
“In what way, Gussie?”
“I want to see some more of them—oh, so badly! You won’t put an
obstacle in my way, will you?”
“I am not the one to do it,” answered Kitty; “but, of course, you can
understand, Gussie, that we have all got to obey the Captain.”
“I wish he hadn’t come,” said Augusta suddenly.
“You wish that Uncle Peter—_darling_ Uncle Peter—hadn’t
_come_?”
“Yes; but you need not cry it out quite so loud. I don’t, of course,
want _him_ to hear. I am sorry he has come because he is sure to
be very strict and proper, and perhaps he won’t like the Asprays.”
“I don’t believe he will have anything to do with them. Oh dear! there
is ten o’clock striking, and we must go to bed.”
“Girls,” said the Captain as they re-entered the house, “this night
has been pure pleasure; but, you know, business awaits us to-morrow,
and before I retire for the night I should just like to run my eye
over the orderly-book. Can you get it for me, Nora? Your mother must
have left it where you could find it.”
Nora’s face turned white and then pink.
“I am so dreadfully sorry, Uncle Peter,” she exclaimed, “but we have
lost the key of the drawer in mother’s chiffonier in which she keeps
the orderly-book. It is altogether my fault and Kitty’s. Mother was
going off in a great hurry, and she gave us the key, and we can’t find
it high or low.”
“You had better have a good search for it to-morrow,” answered the
Captain. “Never mind about it now. Good-night to you all. We will
begin brisk and early to-morrow, soldiers of the True Blue.”
He gave the little party a military salute, and going to the
drawing-room, he shut the door.
The girls went upstairs, Augusta thanking her stars that the key was
lost.
“So much the better for my purposes,” she said to herself. “It will
never occur to him to try that special drawer; if he did it would open
fast enough. What a bit of luck that Kitty and Nora should have lost
the key!”
The girls had now reached the broad landing which led by different
corridors to their bedrooms. Here they said good-night, and Augusta
quickly entered her own room. She felt excited and not at all disposed
to sleep. The Asprays had fascinated her, and the thought of meeting
that delightful American, Mr. David Archer, the man whom Flora had
assured her would take a great fancy to her, very nearly turned the
silly girl’s head.
“I wonder if I am really handsome,” she said to herself. “I wonder if
there is something remarkable and fascinating about me. I should like
so much to know! Perhaps if I met him he would tell me. I wonder if he
would. It would be very nice to be pretty; pretty girls have such a
jolly time. Now, Nancy is pretty. It is horribly unfair, but although
she is nothing but a charity-child, she has far and away the most
charming face of any of us. What would I not give for her complexion,
and those beautiful wide dark eyes of hers, and that thick, thick
ebony-black hair? But I dare say I am very passable myself. I observed
Flora looking at me quite with approbation to-day. I shall light some
candles and see how I look before I go to bed.”
Augusta accordingly lit two candles which stood in heavy oak stands on
the mantelpiece. These she placed one on each side of her
looking-glass, and then, drawing the glass forward, she sat down and
stared into her face. But the glass was somewhat dim from age, and the
light altogether inefficient.
“Why, I see nothing but a blur,” thought the girl; and then it
occurred to her to go into her aunt’s room and fetch some more candles
from there.
The thought had no sooner come than she acted on it, bringing in a
heavy pair of candlesticks with tall wax candles in them. Just as she
reached her own door her foot knocked against something metallic. She
stooped and picked up a little key.
“The lost key,” she murmured under her breath; and then she slipped it
into her pocket.
With the aid of the four candles Augusta got a good view of her
features. Her face was well shaped, and her eyes of a nice colour. She
was altogether, as she expressed it, “more than passable.”
“If only I grow tall, and have a good figure, and am dressed as I
ought to be, I shall be a success,” she said to herself. “Those two
years in Paris will do wonders for me. Parisian polish is so
effective! Yes, I shall have a good time when I do go into society.
But, dear, dear! why should I wait for two or three years to have a
good time when I may have it now? What fun to talk to a man like David
Archer! Flora will do her best for me if I introduce Uncle Peter to
them. I suppose they think they will fascinate Uncle Peter, but they
don’t know him. Yes, he is a charming man, only I do wish he were not
quite so awfully good.”
Augusta put out her candles and got into bed. As she laid her head on
the pillow she remembered that she had just found the missing key.
“I am in luck,” she said to herself—“in rare luck. The first thing
to-morrow I shall lock the chiffonier, and then I can throw the key
down—the well in the garden. That orderly-book won’t be found then
until Aunt Jessie returns.”
But man proposes, God disposes. This trite proverb proved its right to
existence just at the time when Augusta thought all things were
moulding themselves in her favour. For while the four girls slept
peacefully in their different rooms, Captain Richmond thought and
pondered in the drawing-room. He paced up and down until he had
finished his cigarette. He then went and stood by the window, which
was open.
He was thinking of his girls, and wondering how his battalion had
behaved. In particular his thoughts were occupied with Nancy. He had
taken a great fancy to Nancy when he had met her in London. He was
sorry for her, and he thought he understood her character. His own
nieces had always been to him as an open book, but Nancy puzzled while
she interested him. “As to Augusta—I cannot make her out. Quite down
in the bottom of my heart I don’t like Augusta,” said the Captain to
himself. “It is very uncharitable of me not to like her, for I know
nothing whatever to her discredit. But one is not accountable for
these sort of feelings. Why do I like Nancy so much? Why am I certain
that she is straight and noble and sweet and generous? I do believe
that it was mostly on account of Nancy I thought of my little scheme
to enroll the girls in my battalion. Well, I suppose as that key is
lost I had better go to bed. We shall have a good time to-morrow. Yes,
I must make those children happy. Jessie has entrusted them to my
care, and they sha’n’t see more of those objectionable Asprays than I
can help.”
The Captain was about to leave the room, having first shut the window
and fastened the shutters, when his attention was attracted by the
chiffonier. He was fond of Sheraton furniture, and saw at once that
this was a particularly fine specimen. During his last visit to
Fairleigh this handsome piece of furniture had not been in the
drawing-room. He went up to it now, put down his candle, and looked it
over with great care.
“I wonder where Jessie picked it up,” he said to himself, “and what
she paid for it. It is certainly genuine. And how particularly fine
these brass mountings are.” The chiffonier contained many drawers,
some shallow and some deep. Each drawer was opened by a small brass
handle, the lock being just above the handle. Captain Richmond took
hold of one of the handles and pulled the drawer, which immediately
slid out, and there, staring him in the face, was the well-known
orderly-book.
“What a piece of luck!” he cried. “I am not a bit sleepy. So Jessie
never locked the drawer. As I have found the book I may as well run my
eye over its contents to-night. I shall make a more careful
examination to-morrow, but I am curious to know how my soldiers have
got on.”
The Captain lit another pair of candles, and drawing a comfortable
chair forward, seated himself and opened the book. His practised eyes
ran quickly over the pages. Augusta’s entries were very much what he
had expected; they were fairly good without being anything remarkable.
His own two nieces were also creditable soldiers—neat, punctilious as
to behaviour, early risers, well forward in their athletics, and each
girl bore marks of excellent conduct.
“Now for Nancy,” thought the Captain.
Nancy’s pages came last, as she was the youngest girl of the four. As
Captain Richmond read the entries, made first by Miss Roy and then by
his sister-in-law, he smiled to himself.
“Well done, Nancy!” he said more than once. “Brave little soldier. I
rather gather that you had a tussle with yourself on this day, and
that you conquered again on this day. Strange that I should read
between the lines! I was not mistaken in my estimate of your
character, little Nancy. But, oh! what have we here?”
The Captain was now reading the brief entry made in Mrs. Richmond’s
writing on 24th August. He read the few remarks, once in puzzled
bewilderment, twice in incredulity, and a third time with the colour
mounting to his face and apprehension in his eyes.
“It can’t be true,” he said to himself. “Nancy guilty of cruelty!
_Impossible_.”
He shut the book as if he were thoroughly dissatisfied, and returning
it to its drawer, he went up to bed.