With the death of Lady Wyke and the discovery of her wickedness came
the end of trouble. There certainly remained a little to be endured by
those connected with the tragedy, for the whole strange story was made
public. That led to an invasion of Hedgerton by reporters,
photographers, and many morbid-minded people in search of sensation.
The Rectory was besieged, and Edwin, to protect Claudia from worry,
was compelled to grant interviews. The girl herself remained in her
room for some days, as she had received a severe shock. But that did
not prevent her portrait from appearing in the illustrated papers,
since it was procured from Mr. Lemby.
The pirate was in his element. Far from disliking such publicity he
gloried in it, and turned it, to good account. Money was what he
wanted, and money was what he intended to get--as much as he could
conveniently screw of this person and that. He charged for interviews;
he had his photograph sold in the streets and in shops; he swanked and
swaggered all over the place with a view to impress everyone with his
importance. And he succeeded; for the case caused such a sensation
that an enterprising music-hall manager offered the buccaneer an
engagement at a large weekly salary. Mr. Lemby, therefore, appeared in
a kind of Captain Kidd costume to relate wild adventures in the South
Seas and in Australia. Both Edwin and Claudia were horribly ashamed.
As for Mrs. Craver, her indignation knew no bounds.
"What kind of a man is this," she wrathfully demanded, "to have such a
daughter as you, Claudia? People didn't do these things when I was a
girl."
"It won't last long," replied Claudia with a sigh. "Very soon the
novelty will wear off, and then father will go back to Australia."
"I'm sure I shall be glad." said the little lady, drawing herself up
in a dignified way. "And I don't mean any disrespect to you, my dear,
when I say so. You are a sweet girl, and will make Edwin an ideal
wife. Your father is fascinating in some ways, and has many good
qualities. All the same, he should not try and make capital out of
this dreadful case."
Claudia quite agreed with this view. But it was impossible to stop the
pirate from taking every advantage of what had happened. As he had
entered upon this new career within a week from the death of Lady
Wyke, he was absent from Hedgerton and did not remain to worry her.
That was something gained, as she had Edwin to herself, and in many
ways was perfectly happy. After the storm had come the sunshine, and
now that there was no bar to their union the young couple determined
to get married as soon as possible. Only when she was Mrs. Craver
junior did Claudia feel that she would be safe from the vagaries of
her piratical father.
The Rector and his wife were both shocked when they learnt the truth.
In fact, the whole parish was shocked, as everyone knew Laura Bright,
although, as Lady Wyke, she was a comparative stranger to the friends
of her youth. Poor Mrs. Mellin wept at the outset over her sister's
terrible fate; but when she learnt that it was Laura that had tried to
kill Neddy she dried her tears and refused to mourn. People talked to
her and asked questions, but the old washerwoman behaved with great
dignity, and declined to say a word about the dead. She could not say
good and she did not wish to say bad, so she wisely held her tongue,
and was greatly commended for her reticence by Mrs. Craver, who
approved of her attitude.
As for Neddy, he gradually recovered his health. An operation restored
his senses, and careful nursing at Redleigh Hospital did the rest. In
a remarkably short space of time, considering the nature of the
injury, he was quite his old bright, clever self. Then Mrs. Mellin
took him home again with the intention of keeping him under her eye
for the rest of her life. But the lad, having tasted the joys of
London, refused to remain at Hedgerton. As soon as he was well enough
he returned to town and sought out the music-teacher with whom he had
been placed by his dead aunt. The man gladly took him in charge, and
in due time Neddy appeared at the Tit-Bits Music Hall with immense
success. Known as "The Skylark" he became quite a favourite, and made
a great ideal of money. To his honour, it must be said that he gave
the greater portion of his earnings to his mother, and these she
placed in a bank to his credit, refusing to touch a shilling herself.
The shock sustained by the boy did him much good, as it sobered his
character, and gave him experience. On the whole, he turned out very
well, and Mrs. Mellin never regretted letting him have his own way;
with regard to the singing. And, like his mother, Neddy never spoke of
Lady Wyke. She was dead and buried in the quicksand, so there was no
more to be said.
The quicksand had a wonderful fascination for morbid people. Many came
down to Hedgerton during the summer for the express purpose of staring
at the terrible grave of the miserable woman. Consequently all the
lodging houses in Hedgerton were full, and the season was the best,
ever known. In fact, the publicity given to the quiet little place by
the tragedy induced strangers to come down and stay there. When they
found what a charming resort it was, and how good the air was for
nerves, many remained, and building operations on a large scale took
place. Within a few years the locality was quite populous, so Lady
Wyke did good for her native village by her death, although she had
done nothing for it while living. But in this connection it may be
mentioned that Maranatha was pulled down. No one would rent it owing
to its ill-omened history, so it was finally destroyed, which was the
most sensible thing to be done. Its site became tea-gardens, and the
proprietors of these did a large business, notwithstanding the fact
that, many people shook their heads and declared that even the ground
was accursed.
But all this improvement of Hedgerton, which made it a thriving
seaside resort, took place long after Claudia and her lover were
happily married. After the first shock was over, and the greedy desire
of the public for further details was satisfied, Edwin broached the
subject of marriage with Claudia in the drawing-room of the Rectory.
Mr. and Mrs. Craver were present and thoroughly approved of their
son's wish that the ceremony should take place as soon as possible.
They loved Claudia, and, sympathising greatly with what she had gone
through, were anxious to make her happy. And what better fortune could
they wish her than to be the wife of the man she loved?
"I shall never be quite satisfied until I call you my wife, darling,"
said the young man, fondly. "There is no reason why we should not
marry at once."
"I have no money," faltered Claudia, "and my father----"
"Oh, never mind your father, my dear," interrupted little Mrs. Craver.
"If I have said anything about him to wound you, I'm sure I'm very
sorry. Let him go his own way, for he has many good qualities. We want
you. As to money, Edwin earns enough to keep you in tolerable luxury."
"I don't want that, I want Edwin."
"You shall have both, dear. And as a wedding-present," added the young
man with a smile. "I am going to give you a promise that I shall not
fly any more."
"Oh," cried Mrs. Craver, clasping her hands tightly, "I am glad. Of
course, I am used to it now, but really, Edwin, my heart is in my
mouth every time you go up in that horrid aeroplane."
"Oh, don't call it horrid, Mrs. Craver," expostulated Claudia,
hurriedly. "Think of how it saved my life. Nothing but the aeroplane
could have rescued me."
"Along with Edwin's presence of mind, of course," said the Rector,
thoughtfully. "And it was providential Edwin, that you took that coil
of rope along with you, otherwise----" He shrugged his shoulders.
"Otherwise I should have gone down with Lady Wyke," said Claudia,
trembling.
"Don't talk of her dear," said Mrs. Craver, trembling also. "I wish to
forget Laura Bright entirely. To think of her wickedness in luring you
on to that quicksand! It was cruelly clever. She meant to kill you."
Edwin nodded. "I suppose the sight of the quicksands from the top of
the path suggested that way of hurting Claudia," he remarked.
"Handcuffed as she was, Lady Wyke saw no other way of getting even
with us. And it was wonderful to think how she got down that steep
path without breaking her neck."
"Didn't you guess what she intended to do, Claudia?" asked the Rector.
"No. I ran after her believing that she intended to throw herself into
the sea and escape punishment. But she waited until I nearly reached
her, and then ran fairly into the quicksand. I followed unthinkingly,
and then----" The girl shivered, for the recollection of her escape
was very dreadful.
"Don't let us talk any more about it," said Edwin, soothingly.
They could not, for at that moment a visitor was announced. This was
none other than Mr. Sandal, who stalked into the drawing-room, tall,
thin, and dried up in his looks. Edwin and Claudia were surprised to
see him, and when he was introduced to the Rector and Mrs. Craver they
looked at him apprehensively. He saw their dismay, and smiled in his
dry way.
"I am not always a bird of ill-omen, Mr. Craver," he said to Edwin;
"and on this occasion I come as the dove of peace rather than as the
raven of misfortune."
"What do you mean?" asked the young man, doubtfully. "I mean," said
the solicitor, taking an official-looking document out of his pocket,
"that I have here the will of Lady Wyke made in your favour."
"Oh, but that was all nonsense," said Craver, quite taken aback. "Lady
Wyke only, told me that she made a will in my favour to trick me into
marriage. I did not know, until Claudia here explained, that marriage
destroyed a will."
"It does, Mr. Craver; but, as no marriage took place, this will holds
good. It was none of my business to contradict my late client; and, as
she insisted on making you her heir, she did so. Of course," added the
lawyer quietly, "I did not know that she intended to marry you, or I
should have pointed out that the will should be executed after the
ceremony."
"Well, Mr. Sandal," asked Claudia, impatiently, "what does it mean?"
"It means that Mr. Craver here inherits five thousand a year." There
were exclamations, and everyone looked startled. "I won't take a penny
of that miserable woman's money!" cried Edwin, violently. "Don't be
silly, Edwin!" said Mrs. Craver, sensibly. "You will do move good with
the money than she ever did. Take what you can get, and be thankful."
"What do you say, father?"
"I say accept, my son. Although she did not mean it. Providence, in a
wonderful way, has guided her to make reparation to you and to Claudia
for all the misery she has brought on you."
"Claudia?"
"I don't know what to say," said the girl, nervously. "I leave it to
you, Edwin."
"Be wise, my dear sir; be wise," warned Sandal, seeing the young man
still hesitate. "I accept," said Edwin, after a few moments' thought.
"After all, I have acted honourably, and there is no reason why I
should be quixotic."
"None in the world," said Sandal, drily. "I congratulate you on your
good sense, Mr. Craver. Come up to town when you can, and I shall
place you in possession of the property." He rose to go.
"Stay to dinner," urged the Rector, hospitably.
"No, my dear sir, no. I have to return to London at once. The trap
which brought me from Redleigh is waiting to take me back again. I
hope to come down on another and still happier occasion."
"What is that?" asked little Mrs. Craver, sharply.
"When Miss Lemby and Mr. Craver are married," complimented the old
lawyer, with a courtly bow, and took his leave in his usual stately
fashion.
Amidst the loud congratulations of the Rector and his wife on the
great wealth which had come to them, the young couple saw the
friendly lawyer down to the gate.
Sandal refused to say a word about Lady Wyke, even though Edwin gave
him a hint. He stepped into Sanky's trap and drove off, leaving two
very happy people behind him.
"Five thousand a year!" said Claudia, drawing a deep breath. "I can
scarcely believe it. Why do you laugh, Edwin?"
"My darling, I was thinking how annoyed your father will be. He
schemed for this money, and has lost it. We have not schemed, and it
has come to us."
Claudia laughed also, "I really cannot sympathise with dad," she
observed. "I tell you what, Edwin. After dad gets over this music-hall
craze of his, let us allow him an income, on condition that he goes to
Australia. He will be much happier there, while he will only worry us
here. I hope," ended Claudia, remorsefully, "that I am not a bad
daughter in saying this?"
"'No, dear, no." Edwin petted her. "Your father is a trial, and is one
of those parents who make one wonder why the fifth commandment was
ever given."
"He means well, Edwin."
"To himself he does. No, Claudia, don't try to cry up your father's
virtues, for he has very, very few. I shall be glad to see the last of
him, and so will you." Claudia could not deny this, and they leant
comfortably over the gate to talk of more agreeable subjects.
"What will you do with all this money?" said the girl. "Oh, that is
easily settled," said her lover, putting his arm round her waist.
"First we get married; second, we shall go a trip round the world for
a couple of years, so as to make us forget all these terrible
troubles. Then we shall return when your father is safely settled in
Australia, and build a house near this rectory. I shall go back to the
motor factory, and live the steady life of a business man who has a
charming wife to welcome him home."
"And you won't fly any more, Edwin."
"No; never again. The aeroplane will go back to town by rail. Seeing
what happiness has come to us, I shall not tempt Providence. Hullo,
here's the post!" It was indeed Hall, who came up the road on his
bicycle. Edwin took the letters, which were all for the Rector. After
a word or two, the postman got on his machine, and moved swiftly away.
Edwin watched the red bicycle pass out of sight. "A machine like that
saved my life," he said, gravely. "If I hadn't got away on that night
I should have been hanged by this time." Claudia threw her arms round
his neck. "Don't Edwin! Let us try and forget all about that terrible
time. Come inside."
"All right. We can pass the evening along with father and mother,
building castles in the air."
"Come in, dear, come in. I never wish to see a red bicycle again."
"Nor do I," said the young man, laughing; "bat we can't abolish
post-men, you know, dearest. There, I shan't say another word. All our
trouble has gone down the road with the rod bicycle. And now----"
"Now I have you, and you have me," said Claudia, with a kiss. "Come
inside."
[THE END.]