THE COUSINS
Brett was the only person present who kept his senses. Margaret was too
shocked, the lovers too amazed, to speak coherently.
"Mr. Hume-Frazer has allowed himself to become run down," said the
barrister, with the nonchalance of one who discussed the prospects of
to-morrow's weather. "What he needs at the moment is some soup and a few
biscuits. You, Mrs. Capella, might procure these without bringing the
servants here, especially if Miss Layton were to help you."
Without a word, the two ladies quitted the room.
Robert looked up.
"You ring like good metal," he said to the barrister. "Is there any liquor
in the dining-room? I feel a trifle hollow about the belt. A drink would
do me good."
"Not until you have eaten something first," was the firm answer. "Are you
so hard up that you could not buy food?"
"Well, the fact is, I have been on my beam ends during the past week.
To-day I pawned a silver watch, but unfortunately returned to my lodgings,
where my landlady made such a fiendish row about the bill that I gave her
every penny. Then I pawned my overcoat, raising the exact fare to
Stowmarket. I could not even pay for a 'bus from Gower Street to Liverpool
Street. All I have eaten to-day was a humble breakfast at 8.30 a.m., and I
suppose the sun and the journey wore me out. Still, you must be jolly
sharp to see what was the matter. I thought I kept my end up pretty well."
David sat down by his side.
"Forgive me, old chap," continued Robert. "It broke me up to see that you
were happy after all your troubles. You are engaged to a nice girl; Alan
is dead; I am the only unlucky member of the family."
The man was talking quite sincerely. He even envied his murdered cousin.
Nothing in his words, his suspicious mode of announcing his presence, the
vague doubts that shadowed his past career, puzzled Brett so greatly as
that chance phrase.
The ladies came back, laden with good things from the kitchen, which they
insisted on carrying themselves, much to the astonishment of the servants.
All women are born actresses. Their behaviour before the domestics left
the impression that some huge joke was toward in the library.
The tactful barrister drew Hume and Helen outside to discuss immediate
arrangements. David promised faithfully to return from the rectory in
fifteen minutes, and Brett re-entered the library.
Robert Hume-Frazer gave evidence of his semi-starvation. He tried to
disguise his eagerness, but in vain. Biscuits, sandwiches, and soup
vanished rapidly, until Margaret suggested a further supply.
"No, Rita," said her cousin; "I have fasted too often on the Pampas not to
know the folly of eating too heartily. I will be all right now, especially
when Mr. Brett produces the whisky he spoke about."
The barrister brought a decanter from the dining-room. The stranger was
still an enigma. He placed bottle and glass on the table, wondering to
what extent the man would help himself.
The quantity was small and well diluted. So this member of the family was
not a drunkard.
"How did you come to be in such a state?" asked Margaret nervously. "It is
hardly six months since I sent you £500; not a very large sum, I admit,
but all you asked me for, and more than enough to live on for a much
longer period."
Robert laughed pleasantly. It was the first token of returning confidence.
He reached for a cigar, and sought Margaret's permission to smoke.
"My dear girl," he answered, "I am really a very unfortunate person. I own
a hundred thousand acres of the best land in South America, and I have
been in England nearly two years trying to raise capital to develop it. If
I owned a salted reef or an American brewery I could have got the money
for the asking. Because my stock-raising proposition is a sound paying
concern, requiring a delay of at least three years before a penny of
profit can be realised, I have worn my boots out in climbing up and down
office stairs to no purpose. Out of your £500, nearly £400 went out at
once to pay arrears of Government taxation to save my property. Of the
remaining hundred I spent fifty in a fortnight on dinners and suppers
given to a gang of top-hatted scoundrels, who, I found subsequently, were
not worth a red cent. They hoped to fleece me in some way, and their very
association discredited me in the eyes of one or two honest men. Oh, I
have had a bad time of it, I can assure you!"
"Why did you not write to me again?"
He looked at her steadily before he explained:
"Because you are a woman."
"What has that got to do with it? I am your relative, and rich. How much
do you want? If your scheme is really sound, I imagine my solicitors might
sanction my co-operation."
Again he hesitated.
"Thank you, Rita. You are a good sort. But I am not here on a matter of
high finance. I want you to lend me, say, £250. I will return to the
Argentine, and take twenty years to accomplish what I could do in five
with the necessary capital."
"Come and see me in the morning. The sum you name is absurdly small, in
any case. Perhaps Mr. Brett will accompany you. His advice will be useful
to both of us. Come early. I leave here to-morrow."
"Going away! Where to?"
"To Whitby, in Yorkshire."
"Well, that is curious," said Robert, who clearly did not like to question
her about her husband.
"Mr. Capella is in Naples," she added. "I cannot say when he will return."
Her cousin's look was eloquent of his thoughts. He did not like the
Italian, for some inexplicable reason, for to Margaret's knowledge they
had never met.
The barrister naturally did not interfere in this family conclave. He
listened intently, and had already drawn several inferences from the man's
words. For the life of him he could not classify Robert Hume-Frazer. The
man was either a consummate scoundrel, the cold-blooded murderer of
Margaret's brother, or a maligned and ill-used man.
Within a few minutes he would be called upon to treat him in one category
or the other. A few questions might elucidate matters considerably.
The hiatus in the conversation created by the mention of Capella gave him
an opportunity.
"Did you endeavour to raise the requisite capital for your estate in
London only?" he inquired.
"No; I tried elsewhere," was the quick rejoinder.
"Here, for instance, on the New Year's Eve before last?"
"Now, how the blazes did you learn that?" came the fierce demand, the
speaker's excitement rendering him careless of the words he used.
"It is true, then?"
"Yes, but--"
"Robert!--" Margaret's voice was choking, and her face was woefully white
once more--"were you--here--when Alan--was killed?"
"No, not exactly. This thing bewilders me. Let me explain. I saw him that
afternoon. We had a furious quarrel. I never told you about it, Rita. It
was a family matter. I do not hold you responsible. I--"
"Hold me responsible! What do you mean? Did you kill my brother?"
She rose to her feet. Her eyes seemed to peer into his soul. He, too, rose
and faced her.
"By God," he cried, "this is too much! Why didn't you ask your husband
that question?"
"Because my husband, with all his faults, is innocent of that crime. He
was with me in London the night that Alan met his death."
"And I, too, was in London. I left Stowmarket at six o'clock."
"Having reached the place at 2.20?" interposed Brett.
The other turned to him with eager pleading.
"In Heaven's name, Mr. Brett, if you know all about my movements that day,
disabuse Margaret's mind of the terrible idea that prompted her question."
"Why did you come here on that occasion?"
"The truth must out now. My two uncles swindled my father--that is,
Margaret, your father led my Uncle David with him in a most unjust
proceeding. My father took up some risky business in City finance, on the
verbal understanding with his brothers that they would share profits or
bear losses equally. The speculation failed, and your father basely
withdrew from the compact, persuading the other brother to follow his
lead. Perhaps there may have been some justification for his action, but
my poor old dad was very bitter about it. The affair killed him. I made my
own way in the world, and came here to ask Alan to undo the wrong done
years ago, and help me to get on my feet. He was not in the best of
tempers, and we fell out badly, using silly recriminations. I went back to
London, and next day travelled to Monte Carlo, where I lost more money
than I could afford. Believe me, I never even knew of Alan's death until I
saw the reports of Davie's trial."
"Why did you not come forward then?"
"Why? No man could have better reasons. First, it seemed to me that Davie
had killed him. Then, when the second trial ended, I came to the
conclusion--Lord help my wits--that there was some underhanded work about
the succession to the property, and my doubts appeared to receive
confirmation by the news of Margaret's marriage. In any case, if I turned
up to give evidence, I could only have helped to hang one of my own
relatives."
"It never occurred to you that you might be suspected?"
"Never, on my honour! The suggestion is preposterous. You seem to know
everything. Tell Margaret that I did leave Stowmarket by the train I
named, that I stayed in the Hotel Victoria the same night, and left for
the Riviera at 11 a.m. next day. Margaret, don't you believe me? You and I
were sweethearts as children. Can you think I murdered your brother? Why,
dear girl, I refrained from seeing your husband lest I should wound you by
revealing my thoughts."
He placed his hands on her shoulders, and looked at her with such genuine
emotion that she lifted her swimming eyes to his, and faltered:
"Forgive me, Robert, though I can never forgive myself. Your words shocked
me. I am sorry. I am not mistaken now. You are innocent as I am."
"You have also convinced me, Mr. Frazer," said Brett quietly.
Robert gazed quickly from one to the other. Then he laughed constrainedly.
"I have been accused of several offences in my time," he said, "but this
notion that got into your heads licks creation."
"What is the matter now?" said David Hume, entering through the window.