"Why do you look over your shoulder?" she asked petulantly.
"For the Kill-joy," said Hench in a blunt way. "You know, Miss Evans, man is never permitted to be entirely happy. There is always the Kill-joy."
"Gwen will provide you with all the Kill-joy you are needing," said Mrs. Perage significantly. "Wait until we go to the drawing-room. Meantime go on scintillating, young man. Talk your heart out."
"To whom?" asked Hench audaciously.
"To me, sir. You can flirt with Gwen to-morrow; to-night old age must have its turn. Here are some very excellent cigarettes. Light up and talk."
"You remind me of the lady who asked Sydney Smith when he was going to be funny," said Hench dryly. "It is not easy to talk when so ordered. As to Miss Evans, she never flirts."
"Ah, you don't know my capabilities," retorted Gwen, with a mischievous gleam in her blue eyes. "I have many sides to my character."
"And all charming, I am sure," answered the young man courteously.
And so the conversation went on, all frothy, all about nothings--mere spume and spindrift of the mind. And the lighter it became the more certain did Hench become sure that Banquo's ghost was haunting the room. He felt quite relieved when Mrs. Perage conducted himself and Gwen into the drawing-room, for there the psychic atmosphere was less oppressive. The girl, however, appeared to feel it otherwise, for after playing on the piano for a few minutes she began to wander restlessly round the room. Mrs. Perage attempted to frown her into sitting down, but as this proved to be an impossible task she accepted the situation with grim resignation.
"You may as well enlist Mr. Hench as your champion, child. You will never be quiet until you do."
"Enlist me as your champion!" echoed Hench, glancing at Gwen.
The girl grew flushed. "That is Mrs. Perage's pretty way of putting things," was her reply, as she sat down near the hostess. "But I do wish you to help me, Mr. Hench. I'm not quite sure if I am right in doing so, and perhaps you will think it is presumption on my part. But, somehow, your having saved my life has made you more than a friend."
"More than a friend?"
"I mean"--Gwen became even more crimson than she already was, as she became aware that she had spoken more freely than was necessary--"more familiar than most of my friends."
"Who are usually mere acquaintances," observed Mrs. Perage quietly. "Why beat about the bush, Gwen? You know that Mr. Hench is clever and kind-hearted, and you are anxious that he should do you a favour. That is the situation."
"Any favour I can do you, Miss Evans----" began the young man eagerly, when the girl stopped him.
"Don't say another word until you know what the favour is," she said in an abrupt manner; "to do what I want may be unpleasant. In a word I want you to try and find out who murdered my father."
"That's about a dozen words, more or less," sighed Mrs. Perage, but Hench took no notice of her flippant remark. He was too much taken aback to do so, and remained silent.
Gwen misunderstood his silence, and looked mortified "You won't help me?"
"I was thinking," said the young man gravely. "Of course I have read all about the death of your father in the newspapers, Miss Evans, and I can quite understand your desire to avenge him. Anything I can do shall be done with the very greatest pleasure. How do matters stand?"
"As they stood after the inquest," explained Gwen with a shrug. "The jury brought in an open verdict, but the general opinion is that my father was murdered by the man who spoke to the girl in the tap-room of the Bull Inn." Hench winced. Every one appeared to be agreed that the tramp was the culprit, and he guessed that if discovered the tramp would have little chance of escaping a most uncomfortable trial. Even if he proved his innocence the experience would be unpleasant. Wondering what Mrs. Perage and the girl would say if he were to acknowledge that he was the man referred to, he began to ask questions in a grave voice.
"Do you think that this tramp is the guilty person?"
"It looks like it," rejoined Gwen promptly. "The man asked the way to the Gipsy Stile and evidently went there. Afterwards my father was found dead near the stile."
"Had this tramp any motive to murder your father?"
"How can I tell that?" said the girl irritably. "I am only taking what evidence suggests his guilt. Why should he come to Cookley and ask the way to the very place where my father was afterwards found dead?"
"But the fact that the man asked the way to the stile shows that he was a stranger in Cookley. Would a stranger come here to murder your father?"
"Hum!" said Mrs. Perage suddenly. "Madoc Evans had many enemies!"
"Can you name any of them?"
"Every one in the neighbourhood, I should say," snapped the old lady cynically.
"Exactly. Every one in the neighbourhood. But this tramp was a stranger."
"He might have been hired by some one to murder the Squire," said Mrs. Perage vaguely.
"In that case the some one would have explained how this bravo was to get to the stile," said Hench coolly. And then he wondered if Gwen knew anything about the advertisement. "Also," he continued, "the some one must have known that Squire Evans would be at the stile at that particular time. Now, Miss Evans, can you tell me if your father made any appointment?"
Gwen shook her head. "I can't say. My father did many things about which he told me nothing. Often in summer he walked out after dinner, as he did on the night he was murdered, but where he went I can't say. We searched the park when we missed him, and afterwards the woods on chance."
"Was your father agitated on that night?"
"He was agitated from the time the woman came to see him," said Gwen quickly. Hench sat up, and a thrill passed through him.
"A woman?"
"Yes! Some time in June a woman called one afternoon and had an interview with my father in the library. She was with him for two hours, and when she went away he was very much upset. I asked him who she was and why the visit annoyed him--as it plainly did."
"And he told you to mind your own business, I'll be bound," said Mrs. Perage with a grim smile, for she knew Evans thoroughly.
"Yes, he did. But from the time this woman called my father was silent and morose and irritable. I hope you won't think that I am undutiful, Mr. Hench, when I say that my father was not a pleasant-tempered man. But after the interview he became unbearable."
"I never knew him when he was otherwise," cried the old lady, determined that Hench should know everything. "Madoc Evans was without doubt the most disagreeable person I have ever met. A bear would have had a more amiable temper."
"Well, my father is dead," said Gwen coldly, "so it's no use calling him names."
"Oh, I'll be a very tombstone for lying about the dead, if you like, my dear Gwen. But if Mr. Hench is to help he must know that your father was one of those uncomfortable men who never had a friend, and who never wanted one, so far as I know."
"My father was eccentric," said Gwen, her colour coming and going as she explained herself to the young man. "And certainly he did not get on well with people. He quarrelled with my grandfather and with his brother Owain."
"And with every one else," said Mrs. Perage. "After all Mynydd Evans would have done better to leave the money to Owain"--she stole a glance at Hench as she spoke. "He was a better man than Madoc."
"Madoc was my father," said Gwen impatiently, "so please say as little bad of him as possible. And, after all, the estate has gone to my cousin, Owain's son, though I don't know why he doesn't come and take possession. What do you think is the reason, Mr. Hench?"
"How can I tell the reason?" asked Hench awkwardly, and aware that Mrs. Perage was looking at him significantly. "Let us leave that fact alone for the present and talk of this woman who evidently upset your father. Who was she, Miss Evans?"
"I have told you that my father refused to say."
"Did you see her?"
"I caught a glimpse of her when she went away from the Grange, as I happened to be looking out of the drawing-room window."
"What was she like to look at?"
"I didn't see her face. Her back was turned towards me, as she was going down the avenue."
"Oh," said Hench disappointed, "that's a pity."
"But I remember how she was dressed."
"That's better. Well?"
"She looked an untidy old thing," said Gwen, after a pause to recollect the appearance of this important stranger. "Very fat and unshapely. She wore a black dress spotted with orange dots, a black velvet mantle trimmed with jet beads, and a hat much too large for her, and----" She broke off. "What's the matter, Mr. Hench?"
Owain's sudden change of colour and sudden start at this vivid description of Madame Alpenny betrayed him immediately, and he looked confused, not very well knowing how to excuse himself. For obvious reasons he did not wish to admit that he recognized the costume described. Therefore he took refuge in a white lie, and told the first one that occurred to him. "An idea struck me, Miss Evans, that your father might have been murdered by gipsies."
"Hum!" cried Mrs. Perage, quite taken in by this plausible untruth. "That isn't at all unlikely. Madoc was hard on gipsies, especially when they poached."
"But why do you suggest gipsies?" Gwen asked Owain, without attending to her hostess.
"Well," he said, with an affected shrug, "that queer dress of the untidy old woman hints at a gipsy. Perhaps it's only a fancy on my part."
"It's a very good fancy," said Mrs. Perage emphatically. "If this tramp is innocent, which he may be for all I know, the gipsies may have something to do with the crime. Why, Gwen, don't you remember how your father turned a whole gang of them off Parley Common a year ago because they were robbing the hen-roosts? And an orange spotted dress is just what a gipsy would wear."
"But you don't think, Mrs. Perage, that this woman murdered my father?"
"My dear, I don't suggest anything because I don't know anything. All I say is, that Mr. Hench's chance shot may have hit the bull's-eye."
Gwen looked down thoughtfully at the carpet. "My father certainly was very much worried after his interview with this woman, and his worry lasted up to the time of his death. Gipsies--if this woman was a gipsy--might have something to do with the matter."
"It's only my idea, of course," said Owain hastily, for he did not wish Madame Alpenny to be run to earth immediately. "Don't let us jump to conclusions. We must think. I shall be here for a few weeks, and during that time, Miss Evans, I am wholly at your disposal."
"You will help me to learn who murdered my father?"
"Yes. I'll do my best to find out," said Hench earnestly.
"Hum!" boomed Mrs. Perage. "Easier said than done. How do you intend to begin?"
"Well," remarked Hench, after a pause. "I think it will be a good start if Miss Evans takes me over Cookley Grange and into Parley Wood where the corpse was found. Then we can talk over the matter."
Gwen looked doubtful. "Do you think my cousin would mind if I went over the Grange and took Mr. Hench?" she asked her hostess.
Mrs. Perage stole a sly glance at Owain. "No, I don't think he would. Why should he, if you come to that?"
"Well, his father and my father didn't get on well together."
"That is no reason why their son and daughter shouldn't," retorted Mrs. Perage. "You can take Mr. Hench to the Grange to-morrow at noon. Now, young man,"--she rose to the full height of her lofty stature,----"you can depart. I keep early hours here, as it is necessary that I should have my beauty sleep."
"As if you needed it!" said Owain jestingly, and this agreeable visit ended as it had begun--with badinage and frivolity.
CHAPTER XII
CUPID'S GARDEN
That night Hench awoke during the small hours of the morning with the conviction that he knew all about the mystery in which he was involved. He had fallen asleep much exercised in his mind so far as the visit of Madame Alpenny to Cookley Grange was concerned. He remembered that about the time mentioned by Gwen the Hungarian lady had gone away from Bethnal Green, presumably to procure an engagement for Zara in a West End music-hall. Certainly that might have been one very good reason why she had remained absent for a few days, but now it appeared that there was another, which had to do with Madoc Evans. When unconsciousness came Owain was still wrestling with the problem, and somehow it seemed that the same was solved during slumber. But with the working of his physical brain the scheme broke up, and he was only able to retain fragments. These he proceeded to piece together while staring at the ceiling through the faint twilight of the already dawning day. It was rather a difficult task to put two and two together.
The young man recollected that Madame Alpenny had denied all knowledge of the elder Hench's family history, but recollected also that she had done so with a certain amount of hesitation. It now was borne in forcibly upon him that his father had told the woman much more about his past than she would admit. Probably he had informed her of the quarrel with the grandfather, and of his dislike for the brother, explaining also that Madoc enjoyed Cookley Grange and the large income for life. The word "Rhaiadr" had brought back the interview clearly to Madame Alpenny's mind, and it was more than probable that she knew Owain would inherit the estate. For that reason she had been agreeable to his paying attentions to her daughter, and for that reason she had paid her visit to Cookley Grange. Hench now quite understood how she had come to see the advertisement and to draw his attention to it. Without the least hesitation he concluded that she had learned from his father where Cookley Grange was situated, and thither she had gone to tell Madoc of her meeting with his pauper nephew. Why his uncle should have put in the queer advertisement and have appointed so strange a meeting-place Owain could not conceive, but he was certain that Madoc had done so, and had used the very word to attract attention which had awakened the Hungarian lady's memory of the twenty-year-old meeting. She was without doubt on the look-out for the advertisement, knowing in which paper it would appear. Thus she had easily been able to show it to him, and having--so to speak--assisted Madoc to lay the trap she had waited results.
Now what puzzled Hench was why Squire Evans should have acted in this very roundabout way to bring about a meeting. An honest man would have either ignored the son of the brother he hated or would have openly invited him as his heir to visit him. Instead of doing this Madoc had behaved mysteriously in making the appointment, and had chosen for the rendezvous a solitary place out-of-doors. It seemed tolerably clear to Owain that his uncle had intended to do him harm; perhaps his idea was to murder him so that he should not inherit. Squire Evans, if the hints of Gwen and the very plain speaking of Mrs. Perage were to be believed, was by no means honest, so it was just possible that he wanted to get his hated heir out of the way. Hench shrunk from this conclusion, but after much thought could come to no other. The unexpected murder of the Squire had prevented his own death taking place.
When the young man rose in the morning he turned the matter over in his mind, both while he was having his bath and while he was getting into his clothes. It then occurred to him that, as Madame Alpenny wished him to inherit so that he might marry Zara, the scheme of Evans would scarcely have suited her. She would have been no party to such a transaction, as such would have rendered void all her plans to get money through the marriage. But Madoc, being crafty, had probably not explained what he intended to do, and Madame Alpenny had returned to The Home of the Muses simply to bring about a meeting which would result in Owain entering into his kingdom on the death of his uncle. As things had turned out that death had taken place very unexpectedly, and Hench wondered if Madame Alpenny believed that he was the criminal. It seemed impossible that she should so believe, as in the first place she was ignorant that he had kept the appointment, and in the second if she was aware she would assuredly have moved in the matter before now. Owain could not understand her silence. The only reason he could conceive why she should remain in the background when things had come to such a pass was that her intention was to come forward when he took possession of the estate. Then--as he thought--she would appear at Cookley Grange with Zara, and if he refused to marry the girl would then accuse him of the murder.
And again Hench remembered how he had been haunted by the feeling of this scheming woman's presence both at his hotel and when he started for Cookley. He had even believed that he had seen her amongst the crowd at Liverpool Street Station. Certainly the feeling was vague and he had been unable to prove that she was actually present on the platform. All the same he was now pretty certain that Madame Alpenny had been watching him, and that she knew he was staying at Cookley. When she thought it was time she would very likely appear to continue her plots. It was all very uncomfortable and unpleasant to a young man who was honest and straight in all his dealings. Against his will he was involved in these sordid schemes, and he did not see any way of extricating himself from their mire. All he could do was to wait until the Hungarian lady took action. Meanwhile he would do his best to try and learn who had actually murdered his uncle. It was for this reason he had so readily agreed to assist Gwen in her search.
The day was very hot, as there was not a cloud in the sky and the sun was blazing like a great jewel in the softly-hued azure. Hench, scorning convention, assumed a tropical kit which he had brought from the warm lands of the equator. In a white linen suit, white shoes and a solar topee, he looked sufficiently noticeable as he made his way to Mrs. Perage's house. The Cookley villagers, accustomed as they were to the eccentricities of tourists, were very much surprised to behold him clothed so strangely. Naturally, being excessively prejudiced, they did not consider the cool comfort of such a garb, and jeered at the young man's common-sense while they sweated in their hot dark apparel. Matrons even came to the doors to remark audibly that his washing-bill must be something enormous. But Hench took no notice of the attention he attracted. He was even glad, as it proved conclusively to him that no one recognized in his spotless dress the rough tramp who was being hunted for far and wide.
At the gate of Mrs. Perage's grounds he met Gwen, likewise clothed in fair white linen with a large straw hat girdled by artificial corn-flowers, as blue as her own eyes. She met Hench with a smile and he smiled also, for each of them considered that the other looked wonderfully handsome. Gwen even said as much with delightfully childish candour, blushing as she spoke.
"How nice you look, Mr. Hench, and what a sensible dress for a hot day."
"I return the compliment," said Owain, standing very straight and slim and saluting her in a strictly military fashion by way of a joke. "But people hereabouts have been making very rude remarks regarding my laundry-bill."
"Of course they would. It is eccentric in England to be comfortable in white clothes. You wouldn't dare to go to London in that suit."
"Try me," said Hench laughing. "I might do it out of dare-devilment, although I am not anxious to attract undue attention."
"Why?" asked the girl, looking at him in what his guilty conscience told him was a searching way.
Conscious that he had said an awkward thing, which he had, having regard to his position, Owain strove to turn it off with a laugh. "I am not vain enough to wish for admiration. I leave that to the Nuts and the Nibs."
"Horrid, conceited young men," said Gwen, as she fell into step beside him. "I do detest that class of person."
"Then I hope you don't think that I belong to the class in question."
"No. You're a man!"
"A very faulty man."
"I hope so. A perfect man would be horrid."
"And a perfect woman?" asked Owain, peeping under her large hat.
"There isn't such a thing."
"There is," he insisted. "I know one, at all events."
"Mrs. Perage would be very flattered if she heard you say that," said Gwen in a demure tone and smiling.
"I don't mean Mrs. Perage, delightful as she is. I mean----"
"Now, don't spoil things with explanations," interrupted Miss Evans quickly.
"Are you to pay all the compliments?"
"I don't pay compliments. I say that you are a man, because you saved my life and don't talk about yourself as those horrid Nuts do. If you were like them I shouldn't ask you to assist me."
Owain nodded comprehendingly. "I hope we will be successful," he said soberly, "but the task is a difficult one!"
"To me more than to you it is difficult," said Gwen, colouring. "For to make you understand I have to say things about my father which I would rather leave unspoken."
"Leave them unspoken," advised Hench coolly. "I have learned quite enough from Mrs. Perage to know that your father was a man who made many enemies. One of them murdered him; which one we have to find out."
"How are we to begin?"
"I hardly know. Perhaps Fate will begin for us," said Hench. He was thinking of Madame Alpenny as Fate. His cousin said nothing more, as her mind was busy considering his remarks, so the two walked on very quietly along the dusty road until they came to the scene of the motor-car adventure. Gwen was about to recall Owain's bravery, but checked herself, lest she should say too much, for her gratitude towards Hench was very strong. Also she saw that he was as attracted by her as she was by him, and thought if she spoke too ardently that he might say things which she did not wish to be said at the present moment. By this time the girl was tolerably certain that the young man loved her, and would probably propose if she gave him the least chance. As she knew little about his worldly position, she did not desire to move too swiftly in matters of love. Much as she loved him and admired him and was grateful to him, yet, like all women, even the most romantic, she had a vein of practical wisdom, which made her look before she leaped. Soon she would know more of Hench with regard to his income, his position, his habits and tastes. Then she would be able to say "Yes" or "No" in accordance with her feelings. They were strong just now, but she did not intend to let them run away with her.
Owain went with Gwen along the path leading out of the churchyard through emerald-hued meadows towards Parley Wood. It was the very same path which he had trodden on that eventful night, and he shivered slightly at the recollection. Fortunately Gwen was too much taken up with her own thoughts to notice this sign of discomfort, which was lucky, since it would have necessitated an untrue explanation. And after that one uncontrollable tremor, Hench braced himself to outward calmness, and trod with apparent carelessness the bye-way which had previously conducted him towards such dire trouble. He was quite glad when the girl branched off along another path skirting the wood. This took them round the corner of the trees and brought them into a narrow lane, where the trees met overhead to shut out the sky. The pair moved through a quiet green twilight with a tall hedge on one side and a mouldering red brick wall on the other.
"This runs round the park," said Gwen, tapping the mellow bricks, "and by following it we come to the gates."
"Is it a large park?" asked Hench, curious to ascertain the extent of his domain.
"Not very large, but very beautiful. So is the house." Gwen heaved a sigh. "I was very, very sorry to leave the Grange, as you may guess."
"Perhaps you will go back to it," suggested Owain, feeling desperately anxious to then and there lay the same at her feet.
"No!" Gwen flushed angrily. "My cousin is sure to take possession soon, and then I can never visit my old home."
"Why not?" Owain averted his face. "Your cousin may be a good sort of chap."
"I don't see how he can be with such a father as he had," retorted Gwen tartly.
Hench was nettled, as he thought that this was unfair. "After all, your father was no angel," he said, also tartly. "Yet look at--you."
"If you are going to pay silly compliments, I shall go back," said the girl sharply. "We are here on business, remember."
"I didn't pay a compliment--at any rate to your father."
"My father was--my father, so there's no use saying anything more. As to my cousin, I'll never set eyes on him, so why talk about him."
"If you stay with Mrs. Perage you are certain to see him."
"I shan't stay with Mrs. Perage. As soon as my cousin arrives I shall go to live in London and enjoy myself. I have five hundred a year of my own, so I can do as I like."
"Why have you remained here so far?"
"Because I wish to learn who murdered my father."
"But I thought you didn't get on with your father?"
"That is no reason why I should allow the beast who murdered him to escape, Mr. Hench," said Gwen quickly. "I wish you wouldn't talk of--but there"--she walked on abruptly--"you don't understand, and I cannot give you plain enough explanations to make you understand. There is our family history to be considered and it is not a pleasant one."
Of course, Owain knew the family history just as thoroughly as the girl by his side, but for obvious reasons he could not tell her so. He could recall nothing in the same creditable to the late Squire, and it was impossible to guess why Gwen should so greatly desire to avenge his death. Even though the dead man was her father, he had proved a particularly unkind one, if Mrs. Perage was to be believed. But before they returned to the village, Gwen was compelled, against her will as it were, to tell him the true reason for the search. Then Owain was no longer astonished that she should prosecute the same, and ask for his assistance.
The two passed through ornate iron gates swung between two mighty pillars of stone, and walked leisurely up a long avenue, which swept round in a curve to lead into a vast open space girdled by the trees of the park. Here, the young man for the first time came face to face with the mansion he had inherited, and silently expressed his admiration. It was a rambling structure of mellow red brick, the patchwork of many generations, and comprising many styles of architecture. And the very incongruity of the same constituted its chief beauty, as the eye was always finding something new and unexpected. Two storeys in height, it possessed a lofty slanting roof of red tiles, weather-worn and picturesque, with many stacks of twisted chimneys and many mullion windows. The whole was draped in dark green ivy, and seemed to be so ancient that it only appeared to be held together by the same. Windows and door were closed, but Gwen informed her companion that Mrs. Capes, her father's old housekeeper, was in charge. To summon her, she rang the bell as they stood in the porch.
"It's a lovely place, isn't it?" she said, watching Owain's eyes roving round. "Very lovely," he assented warmly. "We could be very happy here."
"We!"--Gwen flushed hotly--"what do you mean?" Then it was Hench's turn to flush. "I beg your pardon. I spoke without thinking, you see. What a lucky person your cousin is," he ended artfully.
"I don't envy him his luck," she replied coldly, "and I'm sorry for the place, let alone the people. He is sure to be disagreeable."
"But not knowing him, how can you judge?" protested Owain, much vexed at this persistent hostility.
"I knew my father and I heard all about my Uncle Owain. No good can come out of Nazareth, and no decent man from the Evans family."
Hench inwardly groaned and considered that she would have small mercy on him when she came to realize that he was the wicked heir in question. Madoc Evans must indeed have been a cruel parent to prejudice her so greatly against the race whence she sprung. However, he had little time to consider this question, as the door opened and a stiff, stately old dame in a black silk dress and wearing a lace cap made her appearance. She was a comely woman in spite of her age, and smiled all over her wrinkled face when she beheld the girl.
"La, Miss, I am glad to see you. I thought you were never coming again."
"I wish to show this gentleman the house and grounds," said Gwen, stepping into a large hall, with busts of the Caesars on pedestals ranged on either side. "I suppose my cousin has not yet come?"
"No, Miss," said Mrs. Capes respectfully, and looking at Owain in a puzzled way as though she recognized his face. "The lawyers wrote to tell me that he was coming some time before the end of the year, but they couldn't be sure when."
"Curious," murmured Gwen to herself. "I wonder why he is so slow in coming?"
"Perhaps he thinks you are here and does not wish to turn you out," said Hench, overhearing. "Then I shall write to Mr. Gilberry and tell him that I have left. In fact, I think he knows, as Mrs. Perage said something about having written. Anyhow, I don't want my cousin to show any consideration for me."
"Oh, fie, Miss," said Mrs. Capes reprovingly. "Mr. Evans may be a very nice gentleman, for all we know."
"Ah," said Gwen bitterly, "you worship the rising sun, I see."
Mrs. Capes looked offended. "I worship no one, Miss, but if Mr. Evans turns out to be a nice gentleman, why shouldn't I like him?" She stole a glance at Owain as she spoke, and again he saw something like recognition in her eyes.
Gwen shrugged her shoulders. "Wait here, Mr. Hench, and I shall return soon. I can show you over the house, and we will not need to trouble Mrs. Capes."
She went away in a hurry, while Hench and the housekeeper remained in the hall looking at one another. By this time Owain felt rather uncomfortable, as it seemed that Mrs. Capes recognized him, and he wondered if she was about to denounce him as the much-wanted tramp. Of course the idea was ridiculous, as she had never seen him when he first came to Cookley to keep the appointment of the advertisement. Nevertheless, Hench felt uneasy and pointedly questioned the old woman, so as to set his own mind at rest. "Why do you look at me so intently, Mrs. Capes?" he asked quickly.
"I was thinking how greatly you resemble your father," she answered.
Owain was taken aback. "My father!" he muttered nervously.
"My dear young gentleman, I have been with the family all my life, and knew Mr. Owain Evans as boy and man. I was certain that you were his son the moment I saw you. And when Miss Gwen called you 'Mr. Hench,' of course I was positive. That was the name Mr. Owain took when he went away from his father."
"I am Owain Evans," admitted the young man, seeing that he was discovered; "but I don't wish my cousin to know. She seems to have a prejudice against me."
Mrs. Capes nodded shrewdly. "Mr. Madoc was always speaking against you and your father, sir. No, I won't say a word. Are you----?" She looked searchingly at him.
Hench guessed what she meant. "Yes, I am," he admitted boldly, "very much in love, but if she learns who I am she won't marry me."
"The temper of the family is obstinate," she sighed. "All the same, sir, as you are young and good-looking, I wouldn't give up hope."
"As that means giving up Gwen, you may be certain that I won't. Hush, here she is, Mrs. Capes. Not a word."
"You can trust me, sir," replied the housekeeper, and looked quite pleased at being in the secret of the young Squire's identity. "I'll go now," she added, raising her voice for the benefit of Gwen. "You know your way about, Miss."
"Yes. Don't let us trouble you," replied Miss Evans more graciously, and then the two young people were left alone.
Gwen conducted Hench all over the vast house, showing him into one room after another filled with treasures. The place was very old and the rooms were spacious, while the furniture and the draperies and the carpets, the pictures, statues, carvings, and bric-a-brac were delightfully attractive. After wandering in raw lands, Owain deeply appreciated this real home, with which Destiny had provided him. He thought that if the goddess would only add to her gift by giving him Gwen for his wife, that he would have nothing else to wish for in the wide world. His appreciation and delighted observations pleased Gwen, although she sighed when they emerged again into the sunshine, intending to show him the garden.
"It's horrid to leave it," she said, casting a backward glance at the ancient house. "I envy my cousin."
"I thought you didn't," remarked Owain calmly.
"After seeing my old home again, I do," answered Gwen, passing quickly across the lawn. "Come down here and see the flowers."
The gardens were a paradise of flowers and beautifully laid out. There were all kinds of nooks and arbours in odd corners, and many winding paths which led to pleasant glades. The trees were magnificent, and everywhere the place bloomed with blossoms. Hench was not quite sure if he did not like the gardens even better than the charming house. And what with the colour and scent of flowers, the heat of the day, the silence of the place, and the fact that he was walking long-side the girl he loved, the young man rather lost his head. In a rash moment he quoted Omar Khayyam's verse relative to the wilderness, the wine-cup, the loaf of bread, and of course "Thou!" Gwen blushed and flushed, and threw up her hand to stop him. They were standing near a marble bench under an oak tree, and on this she sat down.
"I wish you would not speak to me like that," she said in vexed tones.
"Why not, when I love you?"
"You can't love in five minutes."
"Romeo and Juliet did."
"Ah, that is in a play. I am talking of real life. We have only known each other a very short time."
"Undoubtedly. But then our introduction made for intimacy at once."
"How unfair," murmured Gwen, looking down. "You are taking advantage of the fact that you saved my life."
"If that is any bar to my loving you, I wish I hadn't."
"Then you would have had no one to love," retorted the girl, who could not help smiling at the speech. Hench saw that smile.
"Gwen, you don't dislike me?" he asked entreatingly.
"No, I certainly do not. I like you, and so does Mrs. Perage."
"Please leave Mrs. Perage out of the conversation. Does your saying that you like me mean that you love me?"
"Liking doesn't mean love."
"It's a step in the right direction, anyhow," said Hench cheerfully. "See here, Gwen, I have little to offer you, but with that little I give my heart. Now if----"
"Don't say anything more just now," interrupted the girl, much distressed. "I cannot answer you."
"You can say yes, or no."
"I don't wish to say no."
"Then that means yes!" cried Hench triumphantly, and his heart beat rapidly.
"No"--Gwen pulled away the hand he had taken--"there is something you must know about me. I did not intend to tell you, but since you have spoken, I must be frank." She drew a long breath, while Owain fixed his brown eyes keenly on her disturbed face. "Have you heard anything against me in the village?"
"No, I have not. But then I don't go into the village much, nor do I attend to gossip. All I know of you comes from Mrs. Bell, and she adores you."
Gwen crossed her feet and folded her hands. "My father and I never got on well together," she said rapidly and in a low voice, looking down as she spoke. "He treated me very harshly, and we very often quarrelled."
"That was not your fault, I swear," cried the lover impetuously.
"No. I can honestly say that it wasn't. But every one knew that we did not get on well together, and when my father was murdered, some people said"--she drew another long breath--"that I--I--murdered him."
She looked up with a frightened glance, as if she expected Hench to turn and fly after hearing such a confession. Instead of doing so, the young man laughed aloud and lifted her from the bench into his arms. "What a silly thing to say," he murmured, pressing her to his breast.
"You--you--don't---believe it?" gasped Gwen, making no attempt to get away.
"Darling, it is not worth my while to answer such a question. I love you and I have done so from the first moment I set eyes on you. Can I believe that the most perfect girl in the world is guilty of anything, much less of such a dreadful crime?"
"But people say----"
"I won't hear another word. Thus I stop your mouth"--and before Gwen was aware, Owain had kissed her full on the lips.
"Oh," she said, half frightened, half delighted, "how can you!" Then suddenly she slipped from his arms. "No! No! Only when you learn the truth about my father's death and end this scandal, will I--will I----"
"Good!" said Owain, quite understanding. "I'll find out the truth and then we will go hand in hand to the church." And a final kiss sealed the compact.
CHAPTER XIII
DANGER
Considering that he had gained his heart's desire, Hench should have returned to his lodgings in the highest spirits. Instead of doing so, he arrived in a rather disturbed frame of mind. It seemed to him, after due reflection, that he was not treating Gwen straightforwardly, since as yet she was quite unaware of the relationship between them. Nevertheless, as he argued, he would never have been able to win her had she known at the outset that he was the heir to the estate and her cousin. So far he had acted honestly enough in masquerading as a disguised prince, but he should not have compelled her to acknowledge her love before making himself known. Aware of the truth, she could make her choice of marrying the man she loved, or of dismissing the cousin whom her father had taught her to detest. Hench felt decidedly uncomfortable.
This being the case, he was unable to stay in the poky little rooms, as he felt too restless to sit down, and too excited to read. His foot was now so much better that he could walk with considerable ease, although he had some sort of twinge every now and then. But it was certainly not well enough to permit his taking a long walk. Yet Owain, feeling hipped, did so, and strolled a long way into the country. The result was that he felt the old pain coming on again, and his ankle being yet somewhat weak, there was danger that he might twist it. Luckily, a carrier's cart came along the road when he was some miles from Cookley, and the offer of a shilling procured Hench a drive back to the village. When he alighted at Mrs. Bell's door he felt that his foot was again swollen and painful, and cursed his folly, as he hobbled into his sitting-room. He would have to rest that evening, as he fully recognized, and as the lover's desire was to see Gwen, such enforced absence from her presence did not please him. With a groan he wondered how he would get through the dull hours until bed-time.
But Fate had already provided him with an interesting companion. While Hench sat down and removed his boots and stroked his ankle, a tall figure appeared at the door of the bedroom, which opened into the sitting-room. After an astonished pause, Hench fell back on the sofa and gasped.
"Jim!" he cried. "Who would have thought of seeing you here?"
"I thought I would surprise you," said Vane complacently, and advancing into the parlour. "I arrived three hours ago and found that you had gone out for a walk. Therefore, I looked up my aunt, as I intend to put up with her for the night, and then came back to lie on your bed and pass the time in sleep until you turned up. Humph! You don't look like a joyful lover."
"What do you know about that?" asked Hench tartly. "Has Gwen----"
"No, she hasn't," interrupted Vane promptly. "But Aunt Emma hinted that she wished to bring about a marriage between you and your cousin, so that the family quarrels should end. From your words rather than your looks, it seems that you have settled the matter and accomplished Aunt Emma's desire."
Hench groaned. "We can talk of that later. Meantime, I apologize for lying on the sofa; but I foolishly went for a long walk and my ankle is aching again."
"Oh, that's all right," replied the barrister, lighting a cigarette. "Aunt Emma told me of your rescuing Miss Evans and that your ankle was better. Why the deuce have you made it worse?"
"I couldn't sit down here after meeting Gwen this morning, and went for a walk. This is the result," and Hench pointed to his ankle. As he had removed his sock, Vane saw that it was much inflamed.
"Silly ass," said Jim, fumbling near the fireplace for the bell-rope. "Better bathe it in cold water and lie up for the evening."
"I intend to, and I daresay it will be all right in the morning. Mrs. Bell"--the delicate-looking landlady entered as he spoke her name--"just bring me a basin of cold water and my sponge."
Mrs. Bell threw up her hands at the sight which met her eyes. "Won't I send for the doctor, Mr. Hench?"
"No. Bathing will reduce the swelling and rest will put everything else right, Mrs. Bell. Don't worry. Sorry I'm an invalid, Vane, and can't entertain you."
"Oh, I shan't let you off inviting me to dinner, Owain," said the barrister, as Mrs. Bell disappeared to fetch the basin of water. "I've come down to see you especially. Later I go on to sleep at my aunt's place."
"What do you wish to see me about?" asked Hench uneasily.
"That can wait until I have some food. Don't be inhospitable."
Owain laughed and began to bathe his ankle in the cold water which Mrs. Bell had just brought in. He thought that Vane's news could not be anything very unpleasant since he so calmly postponed telling it. So the two men chatted on various frivolous subjects while the landlady laid the cloth and made the dinner ready. By the time Hench finished doctoring his foot and was feeling less pain, the meal was before them. Vane pushed the table near to the sofa so that Owain could eat without sitting in a chair. He partook of the viands in the dining attitude of an ancient Roman, leaning on one elbow, and being hungry, managed to make an excellent meal. Then Mrs. Bell brought in the coffee, and after clearing the table, left the two men to their own devices. Vane sat near the window smoking, while Owain remained comfortably on his sofa. The casement was open, and the scent of the homely cottage flowers came into the room, which was filled with the coming shadows of the night. Hench felt so tired that he did not begin the conversation, and would have much preferred slumber. But Vane gave him no chance. He began to chat immediately, and on a subject which was already worrying his friend considerably.
"So you are in love with your cousin and she with you," he remarked, after a puff or two. "I am going by what Aunt Emma said, remember. It seems quick work to me--a kind of five minutes' wooing."
"Jim, I fell head over heels in love with Gwen the moment I saw her."
"The deuce! Yet the last time we met, you told me that you didn't know what love meant."
"That was quite true. I didn't. My liking for Zara Alpenny was one of simple admiration. But Gwen! Oh, Jim, you don't know how I adore her."
"I'll take it for granted that you do," said Vane dryly. "But I can't say that your newly-born passion makes you very happy. You have groaned two or three or four times since you arrived."
"It's my ankle giving me pain."
"Oh, shucks!" cried the barrister, after a purely American fashion, "it's your heart, man. You aren't the chap to yowl over a twisted sinew, as I know jolly well. Come along and unburden your mind to your father-confessor."
"It will be a relief," admitted Hench, with a fifth groan. "The fact is I am not quite sure if I have acted rightly in stealing a march on Gwen."
"What do you mean by your stealing a march?"
"Well, you see she knows me as Hench, and hasn't the least idea that I am her cousin who inherits the property."
"What of that? You came here with the idea of masquerading."
"So I did. But I didn't intend to go too far."
"And you have?"
"Yes!"--another groan. "We went to the Grange this morning, and when I found myself alone in the garden with her I proposed to her."
"So she said to Aunt Emma."
"But, Jim, you told me that she had said nothing?"
"I did. It was a fib, I admit. But I wanted to hear your version of the proposal, Owain," said Vane shamelessly. "You didn't intend to go too far, nor did your cousin. But as you were swept off your feet by passion, so was she, as she admitted to Aunt Emma, with tears. Miss Evans intended to keep you at arm's length until she knew more about you. But this passion took you both off your feet, so there's no doubt of its being genuine on both sides."
"On my side, certainly. But on hers----?"
"The same. I hope you don't mind Aunt Emma telling me of what took place; she has your interest very much at heart."
"I am glad that Mrs. Perage broke the ice," said Hench dolefully. "It makes it easier for me to talk. You see, Gwen loves me as a stranger----"
"Can a girl love a stranger?"
"I mean she thinks that I am only Owain Hench. When she learns that I am Owain Evans she will throw me over."
"Why should she, seeing that she loves you?"
"Love may turn to hate, and her dislike for my father's son has been carefully fostered by her father."
"Well," said Vane with an air of finality, "it seems to me that she should be jolly glad to get back her old home by marriage with a decent chap such as her cousin is."
"She doesn't believe that I am a decent chap," cried Hench irritably.
"Then you must prove that you are by explaining matters," insisted Jim coolly. "Bless you, Miss Evans will look upon your masquerading as a romance."
"I've got my doubts about that. She may resent being deceived."
Vane remained silent for a few moments and lighted a fresh cigarette. "As a bachelor I don't pretend to understand women," he said at length, "and it is just on the cards that she may cut up rough. Still, if she loves you really and truly, as Aunt Emma assured me she does, she will forgive your innocent deception. After all, by concealing the truth you only gave yourself a fair chance of being judged on your merits."
Hench nodded wearily. "That of course was my idea of masquerading, and it was a right idea, seeing how strongly her father has prejudiced her against me. I am a kind of monster in her eyes in my capacity of heir"--Hench turned restlessly--"I must tell her, I suppose."
"You must, and as soon as possible," advised his mentor firmly. "If you don't, the information may come from a less pleasant quarter."
"Now, what do you mean by that?" asked Hench, startled.
"Madame Alpenny----?"
"You don't know her."
"Oh yes, I do. I am not aware if Aunt Emma told you, but I went down to Bethnal Green for a day or so."
"She told me last night, when I dined at her house. I was wondering why you went there?"
"Where are your wits?" asked Vane in a surprised tone. "Of course, I went in your interest to that boarding-house and stopped for a couple of nights."
"In my interest?" Hench raised himself on his elbow and stared at Vane with an uneasy look in his eyes.
"Of course. You don't suppose that any business of my own took me down there, do you? So far as regards this murder of your uncle, you are not out of the wood yet, so I wanted to learn what I could to help you."
"You're a real good fellow, Jim," said Owain gratefully.
"Pfui! In the absence of briefs which don't come my way, it gives me something to do. Besides, if there is a row over the business you can engage me as your counsel, and then I'll make a big name straight away."
"Oh, hang it"--Hench moved uneasily--"don't speak of that even in jest."
"I'm not in jest, but in dead earnest," insisted Vane seriously. "I tell you Madame Alpenny is on the warpath."
"What?"
"There! there! Don't get excited, you silly ass. Let me begin at the beginning and end at the end." Vane blew a ring or so of smoke and went on talking. "I stayed at The Home of the Muses to see if Spruce knew anything about that advertisement, as I dreaded him rather than the old woman. Of course, he knew me as a pal of yours at the old school, and was very curious to know where you had got to."
"You didn't tell him, I hope?"
Vane shook his head. "Is thy servant an ass that he should do so? Of course I lay low like Brer Rabbit, and let Spruce babble on. He doesn't know anything about your real name, or the advertisement, or your accession to fortune, or anything else. He'd have let the information slip had he known. So far as Spruce is concerned you can set your mind at rest. I'm glad such is the case, Owain, for he's a dangerous monkey."
"Humph!" said Hench meditatively. "If he is ignorant why does he wish to know where I am?"
"Because, having made London too hot for him over that card affair, with which I charged him, by the way, he wants to seek fresh fields and pastures new. He had an idea--I think you told him--that you were going away into the lands at the back-of-beyond, so thought he'd like to come with you."
"I wouldn't have him as a gift as a companion," said Hench with disgust.
"So I told him, and he wasn't exactly pleased. At all events, since I ostensibly didn't know where you were he shut up, and gave me the cold shoulder on account of my nasty manner towards him with regard to the cheating. I do think," finished Vane calmly, "that he's the most abject Gadarene swine I have ever met."
Owain drew a long breath of relief when Vane finished, for he also mistrusted the meddlesome little man. Had Spruce understood the situation it was very certain that he would have attempted to make an income out of the same by blackmail, particularly now that Hench had money in large quantities. But as he was quite ignorant of everything there was nothing to be feared. "Then it's not from that quarter the information about my real name is to come to Gwen?"
"No! Set your mind at rest so far. Madame Alpenny is the lady likely to queer your pitch."
"But she doesn't know where I am."
"Oh yes, she does. Mrs. Bell's cottage in Cookley, Essex, was the address she gave me as one likely to find you."
Hench swore under his breath. "How did she find out?"
"Hurry no man's cattle, my son," said Vane sagely. "You must be introduced to the subject gradually, so that you may admire my diplomatic skill. I came to Mrs. Tesk's establishment to ask for you, as that--according to my story--was the address you gave me. Mrs. Tesk didn't know where you had gone to, so I paid civil attentions to Madame Alpenny and confessed that I was your very good friend. Then she told me--when we became better acquainted, mind you--that you were her very good friend, and would shortly be her very good son-in-law."
"Nothing of the sort," cried Hench violently. "I proposed to Zara, and she refused me as she loves Bracken."
"Zara said nothing about that proposal or her Bracken engagement to Madame Alpenny, as she's a deuced sight too much afraid of the old hag. Madame Alpenny told me that she had given you permission to marry Zara whenever you got the cash. She mentioned that, as you were the nephew of Squire Evans who had been murdered, you were now rich."
"How did she know that?" asked Hench, remembering the visit paid by the Hungarian lady to his deceased uncle.
"Oh, she told me that your father, some twenty years ago, wished to marry her, and gave a sketch of his family history."
"I know. It was the word 'Rhaiadr' he mentioned which revived her recollection and led to the advertisement being inserted."
"The deuce!" said Vane curiously. "She told me nothing of that."
"No, she wouldn't," growled Hench impatiently. "Go on. I can speak later."
"Well, then," proceeded the barrister, "Madame Alpenny knew that you inherited the estate; also your real name and all the rest of it."
"My father told her."
"Exactly, and she frankly confessed that she had refused him because the estate was going to you and not to your father. She never bothered any more about the matter until she met you at The Home of the Muses. Then the name 'Rhaiadr' revived her memory, and she wished you to marry Zara when you became rich. After seeing the death of your uncle in the newspapers she was certain that you had entered into your kingdom, and is coming down to see if you will keep your promise and marry Zara."
"Did she say that she could make it hot for me if I didn't?"
"No. She's a wary old bird. She was all smiles and amiability," said Vane significantly. "There was no word of the murder or of the advertisement, or anything which led me to understand that she had a card up her sleeve. All she knows--according to her own showing--is that you are Squire Evans' heir and are engaged to her daughter."
"It's a lie. I'm not. How did she learn where I was?"
"Oh, she confessed that as she had no reason--so she said--to conceal it. A page called Bottles told her."
Hench slipped off the sofa and swore again. "I guessed as much. I saw Bottles' brother, who is a page at your aunt's. He recognized me, as his brother had written telling him all about me. I had half a mind to tell him to hold his tongue as to my whereabouts but didn't like to."
"It would have been too late," said Vane quickly. "The page must have written whenever he heard your name as that of a gentleman staying in the village. At all events, Madame Alpenny knew all about you being here the day before yesterday. Peter--I know the brat at my aunt's--wrote to Simon, surnamed Bottles, and Bottles gave you away to Madame Alpenny."
"Hang him! I did think that I could trust Bottles."
"You can't trust any one in this wicked world," commented the barrister philosophically. "Madame Alpenny knew that the boy was a hero-worshipper and adored you, so she made inquiries. I daresay a few shillings made him talk."
"I don't believe it," said Hench doubtfully. "Peter hinted that everything was right, so I believe Bottles has some card up his sleeve which has to do with all this mystery."
"But I don't see----"
"No more do I," said Hench, cutting Vane short. "We're in the dark, and until some light is thrown on the subject we will remain in the dark. As to Madame Alpenny, she is at the bottom of the business, I am sure." And then Owain went on to tell his friend about the visit paid by the woman to the Squire. "She has engineered the whole plot, I'm certain."
"Queer," admitted Vane, staring absently out into the shadowy garden. "Do you think she murdered the Squire?"
"How do I know. She might have done so in order to place me in possession of the money at once. There is certainly a motive. Perhaps,"--Hench's face grew less gloomy,--"perhaps that is why she hasn't moved in the matter so far."
"How did you expect her to move?"
"Well, she must have guessed that I would keep the appointment, and when she saw that my uncle was murdered she naturally would accuse me. Instead of doing this she has held her tongue."
"Only for a time, old son. Believe me, she may turn up here any day. Naturally she wouldn't queer her pitch by telling the police of what she knows. My impression is that she will try and make you marry Zara by threatening to give you away unless you come up to the scratch."
"I shan't come up to the scratch, then," muttered Hench sullenly.
"In that case Madame Alpenny will have the game in her own hands."
"She won't, Jim, if I can prove her guilty."
"That won't be an easy job," said Vane doubtfully. "The woman is as cunning as a fox, and as dangerous as a tigress. Besides, we can't be sure that she did get rid of your uncle. Anyhow,"--the barrister rose to stretch himself,--"I advise you to make friends with Mammon by telling Gwen who you are, and getting over the trouble before Madame Alpenny turns up to put her fingers in the pie. She intends to do that, you know."
"She'll burn her fingers, then."
"I said a pie, not a fire," retorted Jim dryly. "She intends to eat your pudding, not to burn herself."
"Well, what is best to be done under the circumstances?" asked Hench crossly.
"Tell Gwen who you are, and explain how you saw the body of her father in Parley Wood," rejoined the barrister promptly.
"No! No! No! She would believe me to be guilty. You know how the supposed tramp who went to the Bull Inn is suspected. If I confessed that I was the man----"
"I see, I see," interrupted Vane, wrinkling his lean face. "It's a bit difficult, isn't it, old man? But if Miss Evans loves you she'll never believe a word against you. That's a woman all over."
"I tell you she is prejudiced against her cousin Owain," said Hench sullenly. "And when she learns that I am that cousin she will merge her love in hate."
Vane shook his head. "I doubt it. But if she does by any ill chance, you have a friend in my aunt. She likes you no end, and will stand by you. As you may guess, she has a strong influence over Miss Evans."
"Mrs. Perage is a very clever and sensible woman," mused Owain thoughtfully. "And I really think it would be wise for me to tell her everything."
"I agree!" cried Vane emphatically. "Bachelor as I am, I always believe in asking a woman's advice. The sex has more intuition than ours has. Let her be the person to deal with Madame Alpenny--one woman against another. Then," added the barrister cynically, "you'll see the fur fly."
"I won't tax Mrs. Perage's friendship so far, Jim. My ankle will be all right to-morrow, so if you will ask Gwen to meet me near the old Saxon Cross in the churchyard I can reveal who I am. When I settle matters with her I shall see Mrs. Perage and relate the whole story."
"Relate it to Miss Evans also," advised Vane strongly.
"No. I shall only tell her who I am, and give her time to get over that before I tell more. It's dangerous to give her too big a dose at once. Also, when I tell your aunt about my adventure I wish to be guided by her advice. She may suggest my keeping the same a secret from Gwen until the truth becomes known."
"Well, do as you think best, Owain. But how is the truth to become known?"
"I shall wait until I see Madame Alpenny before forming an opinion."
Vane wheeled round. "Do you mean to accuse her of the murder?"
"Not unless she accuses me. It's a case of pull devil, pull baker. Now you'd better out along to your aunt's and make my excuses for not turning up. Meanwhile I shall think over things, and a pleasant night I shall have."
"The way of the transgressor is hard," laughed Vane cheerfully.
"Transgressor be hanged! I'm more sinned against than sinning."
Vane laid a friendly hand on his friend's shoulder. "All right, old man, don't get your hair riz. I'll tell Aunt Emma that your ankle kept you from paying your respects to her, and will request Miss Evans to meet you to-morrow near the Cross. At what time, by the way?"
"Three o'clock in the afternoon. And don't come along in the morning, Jim. I wish to think out matters alone. I shall see you in the afternoon."
Vane put on his hat and prepared a cigarette. "Don't overdo it," he advised at the door. "And remember that two heads are better than one."
"Quite so. That is why I intend to see Gwen. All the same, I'm afraid."
"Nonsense! Use that very eloquent tongue of yours and show her that the devil is not so black as he is painted. Miss Evans, being very much a woman, may cut up rough at the outset, but when----"
"When what?"
"When she knows that you are in danger of arrest she will stand by you through thick and thin."