I suppose that I rang it at intervals for something like half-an-hour
before the waitress found me yawning before the exhausted fire.
"Sale over yet?" I asked pleasantly.
"Sale over? Sale ov--?" She set down the lamp and gasped. "Do you tell
me that you've slept through it all?"
"All what, my dear?"
Out it all came in a flood. "The Squire's shot himself! In the Blue
Room over your very head--locked the door and shot himself clean
through the brains! Poor gentleman, he felt his position, though he did
drink so fierce. And now he's gone, and Mrs. Carthew no sooner out of
one swoon than into another."
"Bless my soul!" cried I. "Now you speak of it, I _did_ hear something
like a pistol shot; but that must have been half-an-hour ago."
"It's a wonder," she said tragically, "his blood didn't drip on you
through the ceiling."
It was useless (she agreed with me) to expect Mr. Addison to attend
to my business that night. Indeed, though he was doubtless somewhere
in the crowd, she could not recall having seen him. It would also be
useless, and worse, to seek an interview with Susie, who was attending
to her poor mistress.
"Very well," I said. "Then since I can see neither the parson nor
the girl, I must make shift with the lawyer. No, my dear, you need
not stare at me like that, I don't put my money on my back, like
some of your gentry; but while I keep enough in my pocket there's no
law in England against my employing as good an attorney as poor Mr.
Carthew--or, if I choose, the very same man."
"What? Mr. Retallack?"
I nodded. "That's it--Mr. Retallack. I take it he came to attend the
auction, and is upstairs at this moment."
"Why, yes; it was he that gave orders to break in the door and found
the body. He began putting questions to Mrs. Carthew, but the poor soul
wasn't fit to answer. And then he and Mr. James tackled Susie, who
swore she knew nothing of the business until she heard the shot--as we
all did--and, running out, found her mistress stretched in the passage:
and now she's attending to her in the bedroom with the doctor. So the
lawyer's at a standstill."
"Mr. James Carthew? Is _he_ here too?"
"Yes: he's living at his town house this week, but he came here
to-night--for the sale, I suppose. He's upstairs now, and his wife
along with him; she heard the news cried up the street and came running
down all agog with her bonnet on top of her nightcap. But I mustn't
stay talking."
"No, indeed you must not," said I. "Here, tell me where you keep your
tinder-box.... Now, while I light the candles, do you run upstairs
and tell Mr. Retallack privately that a person wishes to speak with
him in the coffee-room on an important matter and one connected with
to-night's business."
The girl, hungry to be back at the scene of horror, lost no time. I had
scarcely time to light the four candles on the chimney-piece when the
baize door opened and I found myself bowing to a white-haired little
gentleman with a kindly, flustered face. He was plainly suffering from
nervous excitement in a high degree, and in the act of bowing attempted
to rearrange his shirt-frill with an undecided hand.
"Good evening, Mr. Retallack."
"You sent for me----" he began, and broke off, obviously dismayed by my
rough clothes and not altogether liking the look of his customer.
I offered him a chair; he looked at it doubtfully, but shook his head.
"My business is of moment," said I, "and of some urgency. That must
excuse me for summoning you just now, since as a matter of fact it has
less to do with the unhappy pair upstairs than with what I take to be
the cause of it. I mean the sale of the Welland estate."
He spread out his hands. "At such a time!" he protested.
"I am glad to find, sir, that you feel so deeply, since it proves you
to be a real friend of the family. But as a lawyer you will not let
emotion obscure your good sense, or miss a chance of saving Welland for
the poor lady and orphan child upstairs merely because it happens to
present itself at an untoward moment."
He eyed me, fumbling with the seals at his fob. His mind was by no
means clear, but professional instinct seemed to warn him that my words
were important.
"I do not know you, sir," he quavered; "but if you are here with any
plan of saving Welland, I must tell you sadly that you waste time. I
have thought of a hundred plans, sir, but have found none workable. It
has destroyed my rest for months--for, with all his failings, I was
sincerely attached to young Mr. Carthew, and no less sincerely to his
unhappy lady. I warned him a hundred times: but the debts exist, the
mortgagees foreclose, and Welland must go."
"Who are the mortgagees?"
"A joint-stock company in London, sir, which lives upon this form of
usury. Men with bowels of brass. It was against my strongest warning
that Mr. Harry went to them."
"The amount?"
"Thirty-four thousand pounds."
"Will the estate sell for that figure?"
"Scarcely, at a forced sale; unless some purchaser took a special fancy
to it or had some special reason for acquiring it."
"Suppose, now, that I offer thirty-four thousand to buy the estate by
private contract. Would such an offer be accepted?"
"Indubitably. The mortgagees could offer no objection, even if they
wished; for they would be paid; but, in fact, they scarcely hope for so
much. You will excuse me, however----"
"In a moment, Mr. Retallack. Still, supposing that I offer thirty-four
thousand, a deposit on the purchase money would be required. Can you
name the sum?"
"Unless the purchaser were well known in this neighbourhood ten per
cent. would be asked, or three thousand four hundred."
"Leaving me a hundred," I said musingly.
"I beg your pardon?"
"Nothing: a bad habit I have of talking to myself. Will you pardon a
question of some abruptness? You are acquainted, no doubt, with the
present Mrs. James Carthew?"
"Slightly." He looked at me in some puzzlement. "She was Mr. James's
housekeeper."
"So I have heard. Is she a woman of strong mind? with an influence upon
her husband?"
Mr. Retallack positively smiled.
"You may be sure he would never have married her without it. Oh,
there's no doubt about the strength of her mind!"
"Middle-aged, I believe? With one child, and not likely to have
another?"
"It astonished us all when this one was born. Indeed, people do
say--but I mustn't repeat tattle."
"No, indeed. But a man like James Carthew, with a large entail at
stake, might be forgiven----" I did not finish my sentence, but stepped
to the bell and rang it.
"Excuse me, sir," said Mr. Retallack; "you began by promising--at least
by holding out some hope--that Welland might be preserved for Mrs.
Harry Carthew and her son. But so far you have told me nothing except
that you wish to purchase it yourself."
"I think, rather, that you must have jumped to that conclusion. My dear
sir, do I _look_ like a man able to purchase Welland? No, no; I am
merely the agent of a friend who is unhappily prevented from treating
in person. My dear"--I turned to the waitress who entered at this
moment--"would you mind running upstairs and telling Mr. and Mrs. James
Carthew that Mr. Addison has ridden home, leaving a packet of notes
behind him; and that the person in possession of that packet wishes to
see them both--be particular to say 'both'--in private."
"Sir, sir!" exclaimed Mr. Retallack, as the maid shut the door. I
turned to find him eyeing me between suspicion and alarm. "Either you
have not been frank with me, or you must be ignorant that James Carthew
has been no brotherly brother of poor Harry. He is the last man before
whom I should care to discuss the purchase of Welland. I have, indeed,
more than once suspected him of being in collusion with the Mr. Addison
you mention, and, in part, responsible for the disaster into which,
as I maintain, that reverend gentleman has hurried my poor friend. If
there be any question of James Carthew's purchasing Welland (and I
will confess the fear of this has been troubling me) I must decline to
listen to it until fate compels me. To-night, with Harry Carthew lying
dead in the room above, I will not hear it so much as suggested."
"Then, my excellent Mr. Retallack, do not start suggesting it. Ah,
here they are!" said I, pleasantly, as the door opened, and, as I
expected, my bald-headed man appeared on the threshold, and was
followed by a grim-looking female in a fearsome head-dress compounded
of bonnet and nightcap. "Sir," I began, addressing James Carthew with
much affability, "it is through our common friend, Mr. Addison, that I
venture to commend myself to you and to your good lady."
"And who may you be?" Mrs. James demanded, with sufficient bluntness.
"You may put me down as Captain Richard Steele, madam, of the
_Spectator_, not the _Tatler_; and I have sent for you in a hurry, for
which I must apologise, because our friend, Mr. Addison, has ridden
from Tregarrick to-night on urgent private business, and I am here to
carry out certain intentions of his with regard to a bundle of notes
which he left in my keeping."
"I don't know you, sir; and I don't know your game," struck in James
Carthew roughly; "but if the notes are mine, as I suspect, I beg to
state that I never intended----"
"Quite so," I took him up amiably. "You do good by stealth and blush to
find it known. But, in view of the sad event upstairs, there can be no
harm in my stating before so discreet a lawyer as Mr. Retallack what I
had from Mr. Addison's own lips--that these notes were intended by you
for the deposit-money on the purchase of Welland."
"Addison had no right----"
"Of course, if I misread his directions, you can refer to him to
correct me--when he returns. As it is, I heard it from him most plainly
that--thanks to you--Welland was to be rescued and preserved for Mr.
Harry Carthew's child. Mr. Retallack tells me that thirty-four thousand
pounds is the sum needed, and that, of this, ten per cent., or three
thousand four hundred, will be accepted as deposit money. It happens
that I have but a short time to spend in Tregarrick, and therefore I
have ventured to summon you and madam to bear witness that I hand this
sum over to the person competent to receive it." And with this I took
the notes from my breast-pocket and began to count them out carefully
upon the table.
"This fellow is drunk," said Mr. James Carthew, addressing the lawyer.
"The notes are mine, as I can prove. They were entrusted by me to Mr.
Addison----"
"Who, it appears, has surrendered them," said Mr. Retallack drily. "Did
Mr. Addison give you a receipt?"
"They are mine, and were entrusted to him for a private purpose. This
fellow can have come by them in no honest way. Impound them if you
will; I can wait for Addison's testimony. But as for intending to make
a present of Welland to that brat of Harry's----"
"Not directly to him," I interrupted, having done with my counting,
and folding away two notes for fifty pounds apiece in my pocket. "On
second thoughts, Mr. Retallack shall make out the conveyance to me, and
I will assign a lease retaining the present tenant in possession at a
nominal rent of, let me say, five shillings a year. I am sorry to give
him so much trouble at this late hour, but it is important that I leave
Tregarrick without avoidable delay."
"I can well believe that," James Carthew began. But the lawyer who,
without a notion of my drift, was now playing up to me very prettily,
interrupted him again.
"This is very well, sir," said he, addressing me; "very well, indeed.
But if, as you say, you are leaving Tregarrick, at what date may we
expect the purchase to be completed?"
"Why, that I must leave to you and Mr. James Carthew."
"To me, sir?" thundered Mr. James, every vein on his bald head
swelling. "To _me_! Are you mad, as well as drunk? When I tell you, Mr.
Retallack----"
I glanced up with a smile and caught his wife's eye. And to my dying
day I shall respect that woman. From first to last she had listened
without the wink of an eyelash; but now she spoke up firmly.
"If I were you, James, I wouldn't be a fool. The best use you can make
of your breath is to ask Mr. Retallack to leave the room."
The lawyer, at a nod from me, withdrew.
"Now," said she, as the door closed, "speak up and tell me what's the
matter."
"The matter, madam," I answered, "is Addison. He's an escaped convict,
and no more a clergyman than--excuse me--you are."
I declare that, still, not an eyelash of her quivered: but her ass of a
husband broke in--
"I don't believe it! I won't believe it! Tell us how you came by the
notes."
"James, I beg you not to be a fool. Has he cut and run?" she asked.
"He has."
"You can find him?"
"No," said I, "and I don't want to. But I can get a message conveyed
that will probably reach and warn him--if he has not thought of it
already--to send a letter to the Bishop formally resigning his living."
Then Mrs. James Carthew made a totally unexpected and, as I still hold,
a really humorous remark.
"Drat the fellow!" she said. "And he preached an Assize Sermon too!"
But once again her ass of a mate broke in.
"What, in the devil's name, are you parleying about, Maria? Addison or
no Addison, you don't suppose I'm to be blackmailed into buying Welland
for that young whelp!"
"Just as you please," said I. "If you prefer the money being raised for
him on the entail, so be it."
"On the entail?" He opened and shut his mouth like a fish.
"Yes, sir; on the entail--_his parents not having employed Mr. Addison
to marry them_."
But at this point Mrs. James, without deigning me another look, tucked
the poor fool under her arm and carried him off.
I left Tregarrick two days later with a hundred pounds in my pocket:
for the odd notes seemed to me a fair commission on a very satisfactory
job. Now, as I look back on my adventure, I detect several curious
points in it. The first is, that I have never set eyes on Susie Martin:
the second, that I never had another interview with Mr. or Mrs. James
Carthew: the third, that neither then nor since have I ever had a
word of thanks from the lady and child to whom I rendered this signal
service. The one, so far as I know, never saw me: the other saw me only
for that instant when he dropped me a penny for a trick. To both, I
am known only as Captain Richard Steele, and whoever inhabits Welland
pays five shillings out of one pocket into another for his tenancy, and
will continue to do so. But, perhaps, what the reader will most wonder
at, is that I--Gabriel Foot--having my hand on three thousand five
hundred pounds, and a clear run for it, should have yielded up all but
a hundred for a widow and orphan, who never heard of my existing. Well,
perhaps, the secret is that Leggat intended to yield it, and I pride
myself on being a better man than Leggat. In short, I have, within
limits, a conscience.