The Third. Volume
"I think you can guess my errand," he said suavely. "It concerns the letter you wrote to Claude Larcher."
"I thought as much! And what more have you to say in connection with that affair?"
"I have merely to inform you that the man whom you desire to see is in London, and will no doubt answer your kind invitation in person."
Mrs. Bezel stretched out her hand and selected a letter from the little pile on her table.
"If you will look at that," she said coldly, "you will see that Claude intends to call on me at three o'clock to-morrow."
Taking the letter in silence, Hilliston turned frightfully pale, and the perspiration stood in large beads on his forehead. He expected some such appointment to be made, yet the evidence in his hand startled him all the same. The promptitude of action spoke volumes to one of his acute perceptions. To defend his good name would require all his skill and experience, for he had to do with men of action, who acted as quickly as they thought. The duel would be more equal than he had thought.
"Are you still determined to tell all," he said in a low tone, crushing the paper up in his hand.
"Yes."
The monosyllable was uttered in so icy a manner that Hilliston lost his temper completely. Before this woman there was no need for him to retain his smiling mask, and in a frenzy of rage he hurried into rapid speech, frantic and unconsidered.
"Ah, you would ruin me!" he cried, springing to his feet; "you would drag up those follies of '66, and make London too hot to hold me! Have I not implored, threatened, beseeched, commanded – done everything in my power to make you hold your peace? Miserable woman, would you drag the man you love down to – "
"The man I loved you mean," responded Mrs. Bezel, in nowise moved by this torrent of abuse. "Pray do not be theatrical, Francis. You know me well enough to be aware that when my mind is made up I am not easily moved. A man of your brains," she added scornfully, "should know that loss of temper is but the prelude to defeat."
Recognizing the truth of this remark, Hilliston resumed his seat, and subdued his anger. Only the look of hatred in his eyes betrayed his real feelings; otherwise he was calm, suave, and self-controlled.
"Have you weighed the cost of your action?" he demanded quietly.
"Yes. It means ruin to us both. But the loss is yours, not mine. Helpless and deserted, life has no further charms for me, but you, Mr. Hilliston, doubtless feel differently."
"Margaret," he said entreatingly, "why do you speak like this? What harm have I done you that – "
"What harm!" she interrupted fiercely. "Have you not ruined me, have you not deserted me, have you not robbed me of all that I loved? My life has been one long agony, and you are to blame for it all. Not a word," she continued imperiously. "I shall speak. I insist upon your knowing the truth!"
"Go on," he said sullenly; "I listen."
"I loved you once, Francis. I loved you to my own cost. For your sake I lost everything – position, home, respect, and love. And you – what did you do?"
Hilliston looked round the room, and shrugged his shoulders. Look and gesture were so eloquent that she commented on them at once.
"Do you think I valued this splendor? I know well enough that you gave me all material comforts. But I wanted more than this. I wanted love."
"You had it."
"Aye! I had the passion such as you call love. Did it endure? You know well that it did not. So long as I was healthy and handsome and bright your attentions continued, but when I was reduced to this state, ten years ago, what did you do? Left me to marry another woman."
"It was not my fault," he muttered uneasily; "my affairs were involved, and, as my wife had money, I was forced to marry her."
"And you did marry her, and no doubt neglect her as you do me. Is Mrs. Hilliston any happier in her splendid house at Kensington Gore than I in this miserable cottage? I think not. I waited and waited, hoping your love would return. It did not; so I took my own course – revenge!"
"And so wrote to Claude Larcher!"
"Yes. Listen to me. I wrote the first letter on the impulse of the moment. I had been reading a book called 'A Whim of Fate,' which contained – "
"I know! I know! I read it myself this evening."
"Then you know that someone else is possessed of your secret. Who is John Parver?"
"I don't know. I intend to find out. Meanwhile I am waiting to hear the conclusion of your story."
Mrs. Bezel drew a long breath, and continued:
"The book, which contained an account of the tragedy at Horriston, brought the fact so visibly before me that I wrote on the impulse telling you that I wished to see Claude, and reveal all. You came and implored and threatened. Then my impulse became a fixed determination. I saw how I could punish you for your neglect, and so persisted in my scheme. I wrote to Claude, and he is coming here to-morrow."
"What do you intend to tell him?"
"So much of the death of his father as I know."
"You must not – you dare not," said Hilliston, with dry lips. "It means ruin!"
"To you, not to me."
"Impossible," he said curtly. "Our relations are too close for one to fall without the other."
"So you think," rejoined Mrs. Bezel coolly; "but I know how to protect myself. And of one thing you may be assured, I will say nothing against you. All I intend to do is to tell him of his father's death."
"He knows it already."
"What?"
"Yes! Did you think I was not going to be beforehand with you," sneered Hilliston triumphantly. "I guessed your intention when you wrote me that letter, and when Claude arrived in town I saw him before he could call here. I did not intend to tell him of the matter till your action forced me to do so. He has read all the papers in connection with his father's death, and intends to hunt down the murderer. Now, do you see what you have done?"
Apparently the brutal plainness of this speech strongly affected Mrs. Bezel. It seemed as though she had not comprehended till that moment what might be the result of her actions. Now an abyss opened at her feet, and she felt a qualm of fear.
"Nevertheless, I intend to go on now that I have begun," she said gloomily. "I will answer any questions Claude may ask me."
"You will put him in possession of a clew."
"It is not improbable; but, as I said, life has no charms for me."
"You don't think of my sufferings," said Hilliston bitterly, rising to his feet.
"Did you think of mine during all these lonely years?" she retorted, with a sneer. "I shall punish you, as you punished me. There is such a thing as justice in this world."
"Well, I warn you that I shall protect myself."
"That is your lookout. But I will show you this mercy, as I said before. That nothing will be told by me of your connection with this affair. As to myself, I will act as I think best."
"You will tell him who you are?"
"Yes; I will tell him my real name."
"Then I am lost!"
"Surely not," she rejoined scornfully. "Francis Hilliston is old enough in villainy and experience to protect himself against a mere boy."
"It is not Claude I fear, but his friend, Spenser Tait. He is the dangerous person. But enough of this," added Hilliston, striking the table imperiously. "I forbid you to indulge in these follies. You know I have a means whereby to compel your obedience."
"It is your possession of that means that has turned me against you," she retorted dauntlessly. "If you give me back my – "
"Margaret! Not a word more! Let things remain as they are."
"I have said what I intend to do."
Hilliston ground his teeth. He knew that nothing he could say or do would shake the determination of this woman. He had already experienced her resolute will, and not even the means of which he spoke would shake her immovability. There was nothing more but to retire and protect himself as best he could. At all events, she promised to remain neutral so far as he was concerned. That was something gained. Before leaving the house, however, he made one final effort to force her to his will.
"I will not give you any more money."
"I don't care, Francis. This cottage and its contents are settled on me. A sale of this furniture will produce sufficient money to last my life. I can't live long now."
"I will deny all your statements."
"Do so!"
"I will have you declared insane and shut up in an asylum."
Mrs. Bezel laughed scornfully, and pointed toward the door.
"If that is all you have to say you had better go," she said jeeringly. "You know well enough that you cannot harm me without jeopardizing your own position."
They looked at one another fiercely, each trying to outstare the other. Hilliston's eyes were the first to fall, and he hastily turned toward the door.
"So be it," he said, with his hand on the knob; "you want war. You shall have it. See Claude, tell him all. I can defend myself."
On leaving the house a few minutes later, he paused irresolutely by the gate and looked back.
"If I could only find the paper," he muttered, "she could do nothing. As it is – "
He made a gesture of despair and plunged into the darkness.
CHAPTER X
A FEW FACTS CONNECTED WITH THE CASE
When the two young men left Lincoln's Inn Fields after the momentous interview with Hilliston, they walked on in silence for some distance, each busied with his own thoughts. Like most solitaries, Tait had a habit of speaking aloud, and, unmindful of the presence of Claude, he stopped short at the gate of the New Law Courts to give vent to his feelings.
"It is decidedly suspicious," he said in a low tone, "and quite inexplicable."
"What are you talking about?" asked Claude irritably, whereupon Tait became aware that he was not alone, but nevertheless showed no disposition to balk the question.
"I was thinking of Mr. Hilliston," he returned quietly. "I am not at all satisfied with his conduct. He is hostile to us, Claude."
"Hostile? Impossible! He is doing all in his power to help us."
"So it appears," answered Tait dryly. "Nevertheless I think that he intends to thwart us in our plans – if he can."
"Now you are talking nonsense," said Claude, as they resumed their walk. "Why, he first brought the case under my notice."
"And why? Because he wanted to be beforehand with Mrs. Bezel. If he had not told she would have done so, and naturally enough he wished to be first in the field."
"But I can't think ill of him," protested Larcher. "He has been a second father to me."
"No doubt! There is such a thing as remorse."
"Remorse? You are mad!"
"Not at all. I am suspicious. We will discuss Mr. Hilliston later on, when I will give you my reasons for speaking thus. Meanwhile he has decided to play a game against us!"
"Nonsense! He has no motive."
"Pardon me. I think he has, but what it is I am unable to say – as yet. However, he will make two moves in the game within the next twenty-four hours."
"Indeed," said Claude ironically, "perhaps you can tell me what those two moves will be."
"Certainly," answered Tait serenely. "As to the first, he will call at my rooms to find out if we have gone to see Mrs. Bezel to-night, and – "
"Why at your rooms?"
"Because he thinks you are staying with me. And, moreover, knowing that we are acting together, he knows your movements will coincide with mine."
"Ah! And the second move?"
"He will write you a letter asking you to stay with him at Kensington Gore."
"I don't see what there is suspicious about that," said Claude petulantly.
"I know you don't. But it is my belief that he is afraid of your investigations in this case, and wishes to keep you under his eye."
"But good Heavens, man! he advised me to pursue the matter."
"On the contrary, he advised you to let sleeping dogs lie."
"So he did," cried Claude, with a sudden recollection of the interview. "But why? What harm can my investigations do to him?"
"Ah! That is a difficult question to answer," said Tait reflectingly. "To my mind they will show that Hilliston was not the friend of your father he pretended to be."
"But according to those papers he acted like a friend throughout."
"Yes, according to those papers."
Larcher faced round suddenly, struck by the significance of the remark. He was a clever young man, but could not see clearly before him, and honest himself, was far from suspecting dishonesty in others. Instead of agreeing with Tait in his estimate of Hilliston, he vehemently defended the lawyer.
"You must not speak like that, Tait," he said angrily. "Mr. Hilliston is an honest man, and has been like a father to me. I owe all to him."
"Perhaps you do," retorted Tait significantly. "However, we need not quarrel over the matter. I am content to wait, and will bet you five pounds that the inquiry is made to-night, and the letter is sent to-morrow."
Larcher did not accept the bet thus confidently offered, but walked on stiffly with his head in the air. He was seriously annoyed with Tait for daring to cast an imputation on the character of a man to whom he owed all. Never could he bring himself to believe that Hilliston intended him evil, and deemed that the lawyer, despite his manifest reluctance, would help him by all the means in his power to discover the assassin.
Nevertheless, Tait proved to be in the right. As the two young men passed down the stairs on their way to the theater – whence Tait insisted on taking Claude with a view of distracting his mind – they were met by the porter.
"Beg pardon, sir," addressing himself to Tait, "but a gentleman called some time ago and asked for you and Mr. Larcher."
"Who was he? Why did you not show him up?"
"He would not give his name, sir, and did not wish to come up. He only asked if you had a box for the theater, and when I said you had stalls, drove off."
"Ah! Can you describe his appearance?"
"Not very tall, sir. Clean shaven, with white hair and a red face. Looked like a country gentleman, sir."
"Thank you! that will do," replied Tait quietly, and left the house with Claude.
For a few minutes he enjoyed his companion's astonishment at this proof of Hilliston's double-dealing, and it was not till they were in the cab that he spoke.
"Well," he said, smiling, "was I not right when I said that he would make the first move?"
"You are right so far," muttered Claude, who looked ill at ease, "but I cannot bring myself to suspect my guardian."
"You want another proof, perhaps. Well, we will wait for your invitation to Kensington Gore."
Claude shook his head, and seemed so indisposed to talk that Tait judged it wise to humor his silence. The young man's thoughts were anything but pleasant. He had been accustomed to look up to Hilliston as the model of an English gentleman, honest, honorable, upright, and noble. If, then, this suspicion of Tait's should prove correct, – and the last act of Hilliston certainly gave color to it, – where was he to find honest and honorable men? If Hilliston proved false, then Claude felt he could no longer trust the human race. Still he fought against the supposition, and secretly hoped that the second prophecy of his friend would not be fulfilled.
Alas, for his hopes! At eleven the next morning, while they were discussing the situation, a letter was delivered to Claude by special messenger. It proved to be from Hilliston, and contained a warm invitation for Larcher to take up his abode at the Kensington Gore house. "As you may only be in London for a short period, my dear Claude," wrote his guardian, "my wife and I must see as much of you as possible." With a bitter smile Claude tossed the letter across to Tait.
"You see I was right," said the latter, for the second time, after skimming the note. "Mr. Hilliston is playing a double game. He wishes to keep you under his eye, thinking that, as you trust him, you will keep him informed as to your doings, so that being forewarned he may be forearmed."
"Do you really think he is my enemy, Tait?"
"I am really not prepared to say," replied the little man, with some hesitation. "His behavior of yesterday struck me as suspicious. He seemed unnecessarily agitated, and moreover urged you not to see Mrs. Bezel. Perhaps he thinks she will tell you too much. Taking all these facts into consideration I cannot help thinking that Hilliston is asking you to his house for some motive in connection with our search."
"But he showed me the papers."
"I know that, but as I told you yesterday it was Hobson's choice with him. If he hadn't imparted the information, Mrs. Bezel would have done so. Of two evils he chose the least, and by showing you the papers proved to all outward appearance that he was your firm friend. Should you bring any charge against him, he will meet it by the very argument you have just made use of."
"Good Heavens!" groaned Claude, in despair, "is everybody as treacherous as you think him to be."
"A good number of people are," replied Tait suavely. "A long residence in London does not strengthen one's belief in human nature. It is a city of wild beasts, – of wolves and foxes, – who rend and betray for the gaining of their own ends. If Hilliston is what I believe him to be, we must do our best to baffle him; and so you must continue to be his friend."
"How can I, if he wishes to betray me?"
"Ah, you are so unsophisticated, Claude," said the hardened man of the world; "you betray your feelings too plainly. In this city it is worse than madness to wear your heart on your sleeve. If you are convinced that Hilliston bears you ill – "
"I am not convinced. I can't believe any man would be so base."
"Ah, bah, that is a want of experience," retorted Tait, raising his eyebrows; "I'll pick you out a dozen of my decent friends who are as base or baser than I believe them to be. Respectability is all a question of concealment nowadays, and it must be confessed that your guardian wears his mask very prettily."
"But do you think he is – "
"Never mind what I think," interrupted Tait impatiently. "Hilliston may turn out to be an angel, after all. But his conduct of yesterday and this morning appears to be suspicious, and in dealing with the matters we have in hand it is as well to be careful. Keep your faith in Hilliston if it assists you to continue the friendship. He must suspect nothing."
"Do you then wish me to accept this invitation?"
"No. Why go into the lion's den? Write and thank him and – decline."
"I have no excuse."
"Indeed! Then I will provide you with one. You are engaged to stay with me at Thorston for a month. By the end of that time you will know sufficient of Hilliston to decide for yourself as to the wisdom of accepting or declining his invitation."
"But if we go to Thorston we cannot prosecute our inquiries."
"Yes, we can. I tell you that book, which contains the story of your father's murder, also contains a description of Thorston. I recognize every scene."
"Well?"
"Well," repeated Tait sharply, "can't you see? The author of that book must either live at Thorston or have stayed a few months there. Else he could not have described the village so accurately. We must make inquiries about him there, and should we be fortunate enough to discover him, we must extract his secret."
"What secret?"
"Upon my word, Claude, you are either stupid or cunning. Why, find out where he got his material from. That may put us on the right track. Now, write to Hilliston, and then go up to Hampstead and find out what Mrs. Bezel has to say."
"Won't you come, too?" said Claude, going to the writing desk.
"No. I have my own business to attend to."
"Is it connected with our enterprise?"
"I should think so. It is my intention to call on the firm who published 'A Whim of Fate,' and find out all I can concerning the author. When you return from Mrs. Bezel we will compare notes, and on what information we obtain will depend our future movements."
CHAPTER XI
A STARTLING DISCOVERY
In one of his novels Balzac makes the pertinent remark that "It is impossible for man to understand the heart of woman, seeing that her Creator himself does not understand it." These are not the precise words, but the sentiment is the same. And who, indeed, can understand a woman's heart; who can aver that he has a complete comprehension of her character? Very young men lay claim to such knowledge, but as they grow older, and the vanity of youth gives way to the modesty begotten by experience, they no longer pretend to such omniscience, and humbly admit their inability to solve the riddle of femininity. Had the Sphinx proposed such an enigma to Œdipus he would not have been able to guess it, and so, meeting the fate of other victims, would have deprived Thebes of a king and Sophicles of a tragedy.
Yet, if we bear in mind that women work rather from impulse than from motive, we may arrive at some knowledge of the organ in question. If a woman is impulsive, and most women are, she acts directly on those impulses; and so startles men by paradoxical actions. As a rule, the male intellect has logical reasons wherefrom it deduces motives upon which to act. Not so with women. They obey the impulse of the moment, reckless of the consequence to themselves or to anyone else. Consequently, it is impossible to foretell how a woman will act in a given circumstance, but it may be asserted that she will obey the latest thought in her mind. Even from this point of view, the feminine mind is still a riddle; but one which is more capable of explanation.
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