"Yes! I suppose you are," admitted Gwen reluctantly. "But there is always one who loves and one who is loved, you know."
"Heine, the German poet, said that, Miss Evans. I congratulate you on the wide range of your reading. It shows that you are not narrow, and not being narrow, I trust that you will do Mr. Hench justice."
"He proposed to you. I heard him say so myself."
"My dear," said the dancer, after the lenient fashion of an elder sister, "Mr. Hench at that time would have proposed to any woman of decent character and decent looks. Your Heine quotation implied that although I did not love him, he loved me. There you are entirely wrong. He admired me, certainly, but----"
"But he proposed to you," interrupted Miss Evans doggedly.
Zara's cheeks grew crimson and her voice became sharper. "We are two women talking together," she said decisively. "Therefore, it is useless for us to skirt about the bush as we would do with men. Mr. Hench never loved me; he had no conception of love when he proposed, and I told him so. Can't you understand how a lonely man must wish for a home and a comrade, so that he may have some centre in life? I used those very words to him. Mr. Bracken gives me that true love which is more than admiration, which was all Mr. Hench had to offer. He could not give me his heart because he did not know that he possessed one. Since coming here he has made the discovery that he has a heart and he has given it to you."
"Have you seen him; did he tell you so?"
It took Zara a moment or so to quell her rising anger, and she felt inclined to shake this silly little girl who was not to be convinced by common-sense explanations. "I have not seen Mr. Hench, nor if you wish it will I see him."
"Oh, it's nothing to me," said Gwen with an air of finality.
"Then it ought to be. Mr. Vane told me what Mr. Hench told him."
"What is that?"
"You know quite well," retorted Zara tartly. "It is that Mr. Hench loves you better than you deserve."
"How can you tell what I deserve?"
"I am only going by what I see of you now," said the dancer patiently. "You really love Mr. Hench, and you are fighting against your feelings, because you believe that he loves me, which is not the case. As you can see that I am speaking the truth, it is unworthy of you to speak as you do. Therefore, I say that Mr. Hench loves you better than you deserve. I don't know," cried Zara, becoming exasperated, "why you force me to make so unnecessary an explanation, as you are quite aware of what I mean."
Gwen was so impressed by the dancer's earnest speech that she became much more reasonable. "I am a pig, I know," she murmured rather inelegantly. "But it isn't pleasant to love a man and then to hear from his own lips that he proposed to another woman."
"Pooh! You are making a mountain out of a molehill," said Zara contemptuously. "If Mr. Hench had proposed to me after he met you, then there might be some sense in your attitude. But I tell you he did not know the meaning of love when he proposed to me, and would have proposed to any other woman just as readily. His first acquaintance with love was when he saved your life. He is heart and soul devoted to you. My dear"--Zara rose, and bending over Gwen, took her hand--"don't be foolish and throw away a love which will make you the happiest woman in the world."
"Can you swear that Owain loves me?" asked Gwen, more and more impressed.
"Personally, I cannot. But from what Mr. Vane has told me I certainly can declare that Mr. Hench adores you."
"Yes." Miss Evans stared hard at nothing. "I believe he does."
"Then why are you making all this trouble?"
"You are a woman and ask me that?"
Zara laughed. "It is absurd, I know. But I am anxious to put things right. My mother made trouble and I came down to make peace. Don't send me away with my errand unaccomplished."
Gwen jumped up and kissed the dancer. "No, I won't. I am quite satisfied with your explanation. I have been very silly and have made myself quite ill in worrying over things. And if Owain comes----"
"Owain is coming," interrupted Zara quickly, as she glanced out of the open French window of the room. "Yonder he is with Mr. Vane, who was sent to bring him by Mrs. Perage. My dear"--she kissed Gwen's cheek--"I will slip out to join Mrs. Perage and Ned in the garden. You stay here and make it up with Mr. Hench. No half-measures, mind. Be generous and loyal." And with a smiling nod the dancer flitted through the window just as the footsteps of Owain were heard in the hall.
"Oh!" said Gwen, drawing a long breath, "how nearly I have lost him."
Vane had sense enough not to enter along with his friend, as he thoroughly understood the saying about two being company and three none. In a most loyal fashion he obliterated himself, and Owain walked into the room by himself. The young man looked worn and ill, so that Gwen's heart was touched, and she felt ashamed of her conduct, which was responsible for his wilted appearance. Almost without thought she flew into his arms.
"I'm a horrid creature," she murmured. "Do forgive me and I'll be good."
"Oh!"--Owain's pale face flushed suddenly and his brown eyes sparkled--"then you don't believe----"
"I believe that you love me. Mademoiselle Zara has explained everything."
"Thank God for that. Where is she?"
"Do you wish to see her?" asked Miss Evans jealously.
"Only to thank her. But that can come later. Meantime"--he bent and kissed her three or four times--"oh, Gwen, how could you think that I loved any one in the world but you--you--you?"
"I was silly and wicked and--and----"
"No! No! There was some cause for your anger, as Madame Alpenny told so skilful a lie. It wasn't all a lie, of course, as I did propose to Zara."
"I know you did, and I know why you did. But you will be much happier with me than with her," said the girl naïvely.
"Than with any one, Gwen," cried the young man fervently. "Oh, my dear, to think how nearly I have lost you."
"I said that to myself about you, just before you entered," whispered Gwen in a penitent tone. "Do forgive me."
"On condition that you forgive me," pleaded Owain fondly.
"Dear, there is nothing to forgive," said the girl, abasing herself. "It is all my fault--all my fault. I'm a nasty little jealous animal."
"Just the kind of animal I like." Owain pressed her hard in his arms. "I'll never, never let you go again, and now that we are together and you are on my side, I am prepared to face the worst."
"Face what?"
"Ah, I forgot; you don't understand. I have a long explanation to give." Hench paused and looked nervous, as he drew Gwen to a chair and sat down to take her on his knee. "You won't hate me, or doubt me?"
"Never! Never!" Gwen positively. "I'll never doubt you again. What is the matter?"
"Murder is the matter!"
"What?" She started back and stared at his perturbed face. "The murder of----"
"Yes! The murder of your father. You know that tramp you suspect?"
"The one who asked the way to the Gipsy Stile? Yes."
"I am that tramp."
"It's impossible."
"It is quite true. I have explained matters to Vane and to Mrs. Perage. Now I must explain them to you. Having admitted that I am the tramp you suspect----"
Gwen stopped him by laying her hand over his mouth. "I don't suspect the tramp, now that you are he," she said vehemently. "You are innocent, I am sure."
"How can you be sure?" asked Hench sharply. "Because you saved my life," replied Gwen in a truly feminine fashion. "No one who saved a person's life would commit a murder."
"Well, I can scarcely admit the logic of that reasoning," said Hench, unable to refrain from a smile, in spite of the desperate situation. "But I am glad that you so far trust me."
"I trust you to the death."
"Darling!"--he kissed her--"that gives me the courage to tell you all!" And he did tell her all then and there, from the time of the conversation with Madame Alpenny down to the moment when she accused him in the churchyard. "So you see, Gwen," he concluded in a melancholy tone, "that although perfectly innocent, this woman has the power to have me arrested."
"You shall not be arrested," said Gwen, with sparkling eyes and red cheeks.
"Then you don't believe me to be guilty?"
"What a silly question to ask." This time it was Gwen who kissed. "Is it likely that I would still be sitting on your knee if I thought you killed my father? Of course, the whole thing is difficult and mysterious, but I am on your side, Owain, and we will fight it out together."
"Yes! Yes!" Hench rose and swung her off her feet right into his arms. "I am not afraid now. Your love will give me strength to conquer my enemies. But it will be an ordeal for you."
"An ordeal which will prove the depth of my love, dear. And I deserve such an ordeal. I doubted you once; but I'll never, never, never, never doubt you again. Owain, darling, everything will come right. There is Mr. Vane and Mrs. Perage and myself and you. Against us is only that horrid old woman."
"She holds a strong hand in the game, though," murmured the young man doubtfully. "We hold a stronger. Right will always prevail against might."
"Gwen! Gwen! You are a tower of strength. You put new life into me. Yes, we will fight; we will fight, fight to the end."
"And win!" cried Gwen. "Oh, never doubt, Owain. We must win!"
CHAPTER XVII
BLACKMAIL
After the reconciliation between the lovers nothing remained but to go into the garden and announce that Mademoiselle Zara's errand had been wholly successful. Gwen was now quite amiably disposed towards her rival, and was indeed very thankful to her for the peacemaking explanation. Along with Hench she went into the hot sunshine, and as they walked across the lawns towards the glade where they were likely to find the others, Owain warned Gwen that Zara was wholly ignorant of her mother's schemes. "Only you and I, Mrs. Perage and Jim Vane, know about her accusation," said the young man seriously. "So don't hint a word of the business to Zara."
"Of course I won't," agreed Gwen readily. "But what steps are you going to take, Owain, in order to counterplot her?"
"Madame Alpenny? Well, I haven't any idea in my head just now, and, at all events, she has given me a week to think over things. Let us leave matters as they are until to-morrow, and then we can call a council of war and see what is best to be done. There's no doubt that Madame Alpenny has me in a tight place."
"She has," said Gwen cheerfully. "But we may be able to turn the tables on her."
"In what way?"
"I don't know," mused the girl. "It seems to me that this woman knows more about the death of my father than she will admit. She may be guilty herself."
Hench shook his head. "I have some such idea myself, and yet it seems impossible. What had she to gain?"
"A fortune through you," said Gwen promptly. "By means of that advertisement which brought you to the Gipsy Stile, she implicated you in the murder, which she may have executed before you arrived. Once under her thumb, she hoped to compel you to marry Zara, and so would have gained control of the money."
"I am not under her thumb yet," said Hench grimly. "And what is more, I don't intend to be, strong as is her position. Whether she is guilty or innocent I can't say, as I am ignorant of her doings on the night of the first of July. But I should like to know, Gwen, why your father put that advertisement into the papers, and why he appointed the Gipsy Stile as the place of meeting?"
"I can't explain," she answered doubtfully. "My father never said a word to me about the advertisement, or, indeed, about Madame Alpenny's visit. I asked him who she was and he told me to mind my own business."
"Well, Madame Alpenny can explain, as I believe she suggested the advertisement dodge herself." Owain reflected for a moment. "There's something queer behind all this, Gwen, and when we learn what that something is, I daresay we will find out who murdered your father. And then----"
"Hush," said Gwen suddenly, as they turned round the corner of a green alley which ran between high box hedges. "Here they are."
As a matter of fact the lovers stumbled right into the centre of a group consisting of Mrs. Perage and her guests. They all appeared to be smiling, and the smiles grew very broad when the reconciled couple came towards them. Mrs. Perage caught Gwen by the shoulders and looked into her tell-tale blue eyes.
"Is it all right, you nuisance?" she demanded gruffly.
"All right!" assented Gwen, giving her a kiss. "Thanks to----"
"To me," cried the dancer gaily. "I am the goddess of Peace."
Hench took her hand and kissed it. "I can never thank you sufficiently."
"I don't require thanks, Mr. Hench. But did I not tell you that when you really fell in love you would understand how wholly different it was to your feeling for me?"
"You did, and I have learned the difference. Admiration is moonlight, and love is the most glowing of sunshine."
"How poetical," said Vane with a shrug.
"And how true. Jim, I have to thank you for bringing Mademoiselle Zara with the olive branch. Bless you, as a friend in need."
"Bless Aunt Emma, rather, old son. She suggested the idea."
"It seemed the only way of convincing a stupid man," said Mrs. Perage lightly. "However, all's well that ends well, so let us go in and have some tea. Our visitors have to leave in an hour."
All this time Bracken, silent according to custom, was smiling amiably at the man he had at one time considered his rival. Now he advanced and shook him by the hand, much to the approval of Zara, for Bracken had given her considerable trouble over Hench's attentions. Mrs. Perage, still holding on tightly to Gwen, was walking in front, together with Vane, so Owain had the pleasant task of escorting Zara and her lover to the house. He was glad of this, as he wished to say something and repay the dancer for her kindness.
"When are you two going to be married?" he asked abruptly.
Zara sighed. "I don't know," she confessed sadly. "Ned expected to get some money from his mother, but she died without leaving any. Neither I nor Ned make enough money to keep ourselves and my mother, so we can't think of marrying for a long time."
"Madame Alpenny seems to be the stumbling block," mused Hench thoughtfully.
"She is," declared Bracken in a gruff, rough way. "Zara and I could manage by ourselves on what we earn, if it wasn't for that cattish old woman."
"Ned! Ned! Don't call names. After all, my mother is my mother."
"She is very selfish, and makes you miserable to please herself," said Bracken crossly. "I shall never make much money as I am not a genius as you are, Zara. If you could only get the engagement you deserve you would make sufficient to settle your mother, and then we could get married."
"Allow me to see to that," said Owain quickly. "See here, Bracken, and you, Zara, you may not know it but I am a rich man."
"I am very glad," said the dancer honestly. "You have made money, then?"
"I have inherited money--a large income. I owe you much, as but for you things would not have been squared."
"It was the least I could do, Mr. Hench."
"It was a very great deal to do, as the task was a delicate one. However, what I mean is this, that as you have been my friend you must allow me to be yours. Therefore"--Owain spoke slowly and deliberately--"I wish you, with Bracken's approval, of course, to accept one thousand pounds."
"Oh!" gasped Zara, flushing as red as her cloak. "I couldn't think of it."
"Nor can I," said Bracken resentfully. "I can keep my own wife."
"My dear people,"--Owain being between them took an arm of each,--"if you like you can pay me back on some future occasion. Zara, your mother will bother me to marry you until some barrier is raised which will prevent your being my possible wife. At present, as you have stated, you are not able to marry for want of money. Now if I give you this thousand pounds, which I can very easily spare, I want you to get married quietly. When your mother learns that you are Mrs. Bracken she will leave me alone. Then you can give her a sum of money to live on in the meantime and will be able to rest on your oars and look about for a better engagement. You see?"
"Yes," said Zara gratefully. "I see, and I am very much obliged. If I can give my mother half the money she will go to her people in Buda Pesth and amuse herself with gambling. Then with five hundred pounds Ned and and I can manage to get to the West End. Money always brings money, and I am sure that I could get an engagement."
"Didn't your mother go in search of one for you?" asked Hench, nodding.
Zara's lip curled and she looked more disdainful than ever. "My mother said that she went, but she never did."
Hench started. "She was absent for a few days, I remember."
"Yes. On business, she told me. But what her business was I never knew. It had nothing to do with an engagement, however, or I should have known."
Of course Owain knew very well on what business Madame Alpenny had been engaged, but he was wise enough to make no remark. Also at the moment his attention was distracted by Bracken, who had been thinking in his heavy way.
"If you will allow Zara and me to pay you back the money with interest at five per cent," he observed, reflectively, "we don't mind--eh, Zara?"
"No," she rejoined promptly. "I shall take the money with pleasure then, as it will certainly help us to get married in spite of my mother's opposition. I am very grateful for your kind help, Mr. Hench."
"I am only doing what I ought to do," said Owain frankly. "You have done me a good turn, so it is only right that I should do you and Bracken one. I shall see my lawyers next week and arrange for the money to be paid to you by cheque, or in notes, or gold, whichever you prefer."
"Say a cheque, Hench," remarked Bracken, with a sigh of relief. "I have a banking account. It's a very small one--still, it is a banking account."
"Good. I will call at The Home of the Muses some day next week with the cheque, and meantime you can see about getting married."
"Oh, Ned!" cried Zara.
"Oh, Zara!" cried Ned, and they embraced, even though they were in sight of the drawing-room windows.
"Well," said Hench philosophically, "I have made two people happy, anyhow."
"We will be happier if you are happy yourself, you generous man," said Zara.
"Oh, that's all right," replied Hench hurriedly, for he did not wish to be thanked or praised. "Come and have some tea. We'll keep this little arrangement to ourselves."
The visitors were very pleased at the result of their visit, which they had been far from expecting, and the tea was unusually gay. Gwen could not show enough attention to Zara, and Mrs. Perage, who had taken a fancy to the honest dullness of Ned, looked after him in her brusque way. Owain and his beloved were silent from sheer happiness, in spite of the thunder-clouds which still obscured the sun, so it was left to Jim Vane to brighten the party with chatter and gaiety. He was entirely successful, and the visitors left with a sense of great enjoyment. Zara looked younger, less fatigued and unapproachable than usual, while Bracken's stolid good-looking face was wreathed in smiles. And Hench saw them off at the station with a sense of thankfulness that he had been able to help them. He was so happy himself in having gained Gwen's love that he wished every one else to be happy, and moreover was delighted that he had been able to repay Zara for her good work. He returned to his lodgings to dress, and then went to dine at Mrs. Perage's hospitable board.
Gwen wished to hold the council of war after dinner, but Hench refused. He considered that the day had been quite sufficiently filled with events, and did not wish to start a discussion which was likely to be prolonged into the small hours. Gwen looked tired after all the excitement she had undergone, and Hench himself felt rather weary. The true fact was that a sense of anxiety lay beneath their surface gaiety, and they were feeling the suspense more than they thought. Mrs. Perage and her nephew were also rather silent; so in spite of the reconciliation of the lovers the evening was rather a failure. With her usual prompt way of dealing with things, Mrs. Perage sent Hench away at half-past nine o'clock.
"We are all worn out with bother," she said briskly. "So it is best for all of us to have a good night's rest and then we can deal with other and more serious matters to-morrow."
"One serious matter has been put right, thanks to you," said Hench, looking fondly at Gwen. "It was just as well to take the bull by the horns," said Mrs. Perage candidly. "And I am glad that Zara proved to be so sensible a creature. And when you tell Gwen what--what----" she hesitated, not knowing if it was wise to speak.
"What peril I am in," finished Hench. "Oh, I've done that this afternoon."
"The deuce you have!" cried Vane, turning from his friend to Gwen. "And what do you think of the matter, Miss Evans?"
"I don't know what to think," said Gwen promptly. "Save that I believe Owain to be innocent, and I will stand by him to the end, whatever it may be."
"Good. And the accusation of Madame----"
"Jim," commanded his aunt sharply, "do hold your tongue. This is not the time to begin a discussion. To-morrow, when our wits are clearer, we can talk. Owain, go home to bed. Jim and I will turn our backs while you take leave of Gwen."
This was not necessary, as Gwen accompanied her lover to the door and kisses were exchanged in the twilight of the summer night. But the two were so long in parting that Mrs. Perage had to come on the scene and fairly shut the door in the face of this lingering lover. Hench went away, feeling that the sun had vanished from the sky, which was exactly what the sun should do considering the time. He sauntered home leisurely, thinking of Gwen and picturing his future life with her. By the time he reached Mrs. Bell's cottage it was striking ten from the church tower, and he entered the house yawning with the intention of going at once to bed. There he could dream of Gwen.
But Owain did not get to his repose so speedily as he expected, for he found a visitor sitting in his parlour--and not a visitor he was exactly pleased to see. From an armchair rose the smartly dressed figure of Mr. Cuthbert Spruce, who smiled amiably when he saw the astonished look on the face of his host. Hench frowned, very ill-pleased.
"What the deuce are you doing here, Spruce?" he demanded sharply.
"I have come to have a serious talk with you," said the Nut coolly, and resumed his seat with the air of a man determined to stay where he was.
"Then you can clear out and come to-morrow, my friend. I am much too tired to talk just now." Hench glanced at his watch. "There is a train at a quarter to eleven which you can catch."
"I am not going back to town this evening, Hench."
"Well, that's your business, not mine. Anyhow, I want you to go now."
"I am staying at the Bull Inn," went on Spruce significantly. "It is necessary that we should speak now. Better be sensible, Hench, and listen."
Owain looked at this meddlesome marplot searchingly. He was staying at the Bull Inn, and that was a place which Hench had carefully avoided lest he should come into contact with the girl who had seen him as a tramp. It occurred to him from the significance of Spruce's tone that the Nut had been making inquiries, and had come to make himself unpleasant. However, Hench was not the man to be frightened into doing what he did not wish to do, and he threw off his coat and hat, still frowning.
"I don't know why you have come here," he said coldly, "or how you found out where I was living. But----"
"Madame Alpenny told me," said Spruce quickly, and brought out a cigarette.
"Hang her impudence! Don't smoke. I don't want you to stay."
"Very good." The Nut rose and carefully lighted the little roll of tobacco. "As you please. But don't say that I did not give you your chance."
"What the devil do you mean?"
"If you send me away how can I explain?" asked Spruce, with a supercilious smile. "I have been waiting for quite an hour, and it was only after a great deal of persuasion that your landlady allowed me to enter. I believe"--added the Nut, stretching his arms and yawning-- "that she is waiting up, so as to be sure that I have not come after the spoons."
Hench looked at him hard, then abruptly left the room to assure Mrs. Bell that everything was all right. After he had sent her to bed, at rest in her mind about the stranger, he returned to the parlour and closed the door in an ostentatious manner.
Spruce laughed.
"You are going to let me stay, then," he remarked coolly and sitting down again.
Hench sat opposite to him with a resolute air. "You don't leave this room until you fully explain what the devil you mean by dogging my footsteps in this way," he said sternly.
"Dogged is a good word, or was it dogging? Both are good words. You will have to be dogged so far as your courage is concerned. And as to dogging, it is better that I should do that than the police."
"Oh, hang your fantastical chatter!" snapped Hench with a lowering brow. "Come to the point."
"Can't you see my point now that I have mentioned the police?"
"No," said Hench briefly and obstinately.
"Curious! You are not usually so dense." Spruce puffed lightly at his cigarette and smiled blandly. "The fact is I am here on behalf of Madame Alpenny."
"What has Madame Alpenny to do with me, may I ask?"
"Oh, you may ask, and I shall reply with great pleasure. Madame Alpenny has done me the honour to make me her confidential friend, and I am now in possession of all facts connected with your gaining of a large fortune. Most people would be glad to get so much money, but few people would be ready to gain it at so heavy a price."
Hench winced inwardly but not outwardly, as he did not intend to show fear in the presence of this little reptile. He saw from the very audacity with which the Nut spoke that he knew all about the matter connected with the death of Madoc Evans, and knew also that the creature had come at this untimely hour to profit by his knowledge. "You speak in riddles," he said coldly.
"Oh, I think you can guess them," retorted the other man.
"Perhaps I can and perhaps I cannot. But as you hint at mysteries it is for you to explain them. Be as brief as you can. I can't wait up all night listening to your twaddle."
"Very bravely carried off, Hench," taunted Spruce, his eyes looking angry. "But such bluff doesn't deceive me. I know too much for you to pretend ignorance."
"What you know I am waiting to learn," said Hench, setting his teeth.
"Why give me the trouble to explain?"
"Stop your fencing and come to the point. You want money?"
"A great deal of money. The price of my story is costly."
"Really!" said Hench sarcastically. "Well, you were writing a story at Bethnal Green. At least that was the lie you told me to account for your presence in the boarding-house."
Spruce laughed, in no wise offended, as his moral perceptions were very much blunted. "I am writing a much better story than I anticipated. I told you that I came to Bethnal Green to find material. Well, I have found material of the best. I shall sell this story for a good price," he concluded, looking meaningly at his listener.
"And the price?"
"Well, I think about two thousand a year."
"Moderate," said Owain shortly and not quailing.
"I think so myself, seeing that I shall have to pay Madame Alpenny at least two hundred a year out of it."
"And keep one thousand eight hundred a year to yourself?"
"That is my intention," rejoined the Nut coolly. "Spruce, you are--what you are, as it is impossible to find a name low enough to suit you. And how am I to pay this two thousand a year?"
"Out of the ten thousand per annum your uncle left you."
"Humph! You seem to be well informed."
"Madame Alpenny informed me, so naturally I am in possession of many facts which you would prefer to keep secret. Come, Hench, it is no use our beating about the bush, as we understand one another, so----"
"Pardon me, we don't understand one another. What am I to get for this two thousand a year blackmail?"
"Don't use nasty words. It won't help you to be nasty. I'm top-dog, Hench, so you had better give in."
"Two words go to a bargain," said Hench calmly. "What am I to gain in return for this two thousand a year?"
"My silence."
"About what?" Spruce started up, looking peevishly angry. "Don't try me too far, Hench. You know quite well what I mean. A word from me to the police and you will be arrested straight away for the murder of your uncle."
"Oh, indeed. You seem to be very certain of my guilt."
"Whether I am certain or not doesn't matter," retorted the other. "I hold you in the hollow of my hand."
"Explain how you do that."
"Oh, very well," said Spruce, sitting down again. "If you will have chapter and verse I am willing to oblige you, although I think you are wasting my time."
The Nut drew a long breath and then proceeded to inform his host of his discoveries. These had to do with the insertion of the advertisement, with the visit of Hench on the fatal night to Cookley, and with the inheritance which the untoward death of Madoc Evans had brought the young man. "So you see," concluded the Nut, "that I have only to go to the police with this tale to ensure your arrest."
"I quite admit that, Spruce. In fact, I admit the truth of all your story. I should like to know how you found out all about the business. You could scarcely go to Madame Alpenny and force it out of her without some previous knowledge."
"Well, it was my clever brain that gave me the tip," said Spruce coolly. "That conversation in which the word 'Rhaiadr' was used gave me the idea that the old woman knew something about you. I watched her and followed her when she went away. She came down here and saw Evans at the Grange. I waited until she got home later, and then told her that I had followed her. She was so alarmed lest you should know of the visit--as your doing so would have upset the apple-cart--that she told me about the advertisement. When it appeared I saw it and made sure that you would obey it. I followed you to that hotel near the British Museum, but you left there and I lost sight of you. Therefore I lay low until I got evidence of your visit to Cookley on the night of the first of July. I saw all about the murder in the newspapers and believed that you were guilty. But I was not sure until I went to-day to the Bull Inn and questioned that girl about the supposed tramp. From what she said, vague as her description was, I knew that you were the tramp in question, so came on here to let you know. I believe that you asked the way to the Gipsy Stile and went straight there to murder your uncle."
"Oh!" said Owain, unmoved. "Am I the sort of person to murder an old man?"
"I don't say that you killed him in cold blood," replied Spruce hastily. "You doubtless had a quarrel and stabbed him before you knew what you were about."
"One moment, Spruce. I am not in the habit of carrying about carving-knives to kill people. And I had no reason to kill my uncle, as at the time I did not know that he was any relation."
"Oh, he told you that at the time you met him."
"I never met him. I found him dead." Spruce started up in a fury and snatched at his hat. "What's the use of your dodging in this way. I say that you murdered him, and if you don't promise to pay me two thousand a year and secure the same to me by deed, I shall go to the police and procure your arrest. You know I can do it."
"You can. I fully admit that just now you are top-dog," said Hench in quite a bland way. "And you are willing to condone my felony for the money?"
"Yes! You can kill the whole population of Cookley for all I care."
"Oh, I quite understand that. Well, to-night I shall say nothing. You must give me one week to consider matters."
"I don't mind,"--Spruce made for the door with a shrug,--"but don't you try and bolt or I shall put the police on to you."
"Naturally! You have made everything perfectly clear to me. Good-night."
Spruce walked into the passage and opened the outside door. "Remember," he said.
"Good-night," repeated Hench, and shut the door in the face of the blackmailer.
CHAPTER XVIII
HENCH'S DIPLOMACY
Contrary to his expectations, Owain passed a very good night. By this time he was so accustomed to trouble that it did not seem sensible to worry over anything until he could meet the same fairly and squarely. Dangerous as Madame Alpenny and Spruce were, he had no reason to fear them for a week, since they gave him that period in which to assent to their terms. The woman wished him to marry her daughter; the man desired to obtain an income of two thousand a year, secured by deed; and if he satisfied both, they would hold their peace and trouble him no longer. But Hench by no means intended to purchase immunity at this price, as to do so would imply that he was guilty. As he was perfectly innocent such a course was not to be thought of, and it was necessary to think of some other means of settling the difficulty. And since Owain could not decide his course of action on the spur of the moment, he put the matter out of his head for the time being and retired to bed immediately. After a good night's rest, he rose greatly refreshed, and sent Giles to bring Vane to breakfast.
Guessing from the unexpectedness of the invitation that something was in the wind, Vane speedily arrived, and was waiting in the little parlour when his friend made his appearance. Hench refused to give any information until the meal was ended, saying that to mix up business with pleasure was to spoil both, so the barrister had to possess his soul in patience until they were enjoying their morning smoke. Then, as Hench still held his peace, Vane asked him a down-right question with considerable impatience.
"Why did you ask me to come to breakfast, Owain?"
"To talk over a further complication of this trouble."
"The murder of your uncle?"
"Yes! When I came here last night, Spruce was waiting for me."
"Spruce!" echoed the other curiously. "That crawling little cheat. How did he find you out, Owain?"
"Madame Alpenny told him where I was, and Bottles told her, and Peter told his brother. That is how the screed runs."
"Why the deuce couldn't Peter keep his knowledge of your whereabouts to himself," growled the barrister. "We don't want Spruce here."
"Oh, Peter didn't think he was doing wrong in telling Bottles, as he knew how his brother was devoted to me. It is Bottles I blame in giving me away. I don't think he is so devoted to me as I thought. And I certainly don't want Spruce here, especially as he has come to blackmail me."
"What's that?" Vane sat up very straight.
"Listen!" and Hench related what had taken place in that very room on the previous night, so that the barrister was soon placed in possession of all facts connected with the accusation. Vane sat silent when his friend ended, digesting the uncomfortable knowledge.
"Little beast!" he said at length. "I knew that he was after no good in going to Bethnal Green."
"Oh, that was mere chance, Jim. But his cleverness led him to suspect what Madame Alpenny knew, and he watched her day and night until he wormed her secret out of her. Well, you have heard; what is your advice?"
"I should give Spruce rope enough to hang himself," said Vane quickly.
"In what way?"
"By promising him the money. If he accepts he will be condoning a felony and in that way will get himself into trouble."
"I will get into trouble also."
"I'm not so sure of that," said Vane, looking out of the window in a musing manner. "Spruce says that you are guilty, to suit his own ends. But I should not be surprised if he knew the name of the true assassin."
"Madame Alpenny?"
"I think so. No one but you and that woman knew of the appointment at the Gipsy Stile. You are innocent, so she must be guilty. And we have agreed that she had a strong motive to place you in possession of the property straight away. Yes, I truly think that she struck the blow, thus giving you the money at once and getting you under her thumb. She killed two birds with one stone."
"Don't be in such a hurry," said Owain dryly. "The appointment was advertised in the newspaper shown to me by Madame Alpenny. Other people may have gone there on the chance of getting something."
"Other people had nothing to gain by keeping the appointment, Owain, much less by murdering the old man. No. Some one who knew what his death meant to you is the assassin, and Madame Alpenny alone possessed that information."
"True enough. Well, and what do you propose?"
"Send that man you sent to me for Spruce, and ask him to come here at once."
"For what purpose?"
"We can make a bargain with him. Instead of giving him the money to hold his tongue, offer it to him on condition that he reveals the truth."
"He won't. He's a born liar."
"Oh yes, he will. The chance of getting two thousand a year will unlock his tongue. He'd sell Madame Alpenny or a dozen like her to line his own nest."
"It's not a bad idea," said Owain, as he left the room to speak to Giles. While he was absent Vane began to think of Peter, the page, who was the brother of Simon, surnamed Bottles. It seemed to him that these two boys knew of something in connection with the matter, as they appeared to take a great interest in the doings of Hench. The barrister resolved to speak to Owain on his return, and did so immediately he came back with the information that Giles was now on his way to the Bull Inn. "You say that Bottles was devoted to you, Owain," said Vane reflectively.
"I thought so, but since he has given me away to Madame Alpenny I have my doubts of his honesty."
"Hm! I don't know. A hero-worshipper doesn't throw off his allegiance so lightly. Bottles promised to hold his tongue?"
"Yes! Really, though, Jim, there was nothing for him to tell."
"Not when you left Bethnal Green, I admit. But there has been something to tell since, and he has told it, to wit your whereabouts, which you did not wish to be known to that old hag. Bottles must have some reason for acting as he has done. If I were you I would go up to town and see him."
Hench nodded. "I intend to, and to see Madame Alpenny at the same time. Our conversation ended rather abruptly in the churchyard, and I want to make it quite clear to her that I suspect her of being the guilty person."
"Quite so. And if we succeed in frightening or bribing that little animal Spruce, you will have more grounds to present to her as to the truth of your accusation. We're travelling along a dark path, Owain, and the deuce knows what we will find at the end of it."
"A gaol for Madame Alpenny and a church for me and Gwen to be married in, Jim," said Hench promptly. "But it is a dark path as you say, and I have got on to it in the most unexpected manner. I wish I had called to see you before coming down here on that night. Had you been with me all this trouble would have been avoided."
Vane quite agreed. "In dealing with people like Madame Alpenny and Spruce it is always best to have a witness. That is why I think that the wisdom of seeing Spruce in company is apparent. Hullo! here he is. Doesn't he look like Solomon in all his glory, the slimy little reptile?"
It was indeed Spruce who had just clicked the gate and was sauntering up the short garden path. As the day was very warm, he was appropriately clothed in a suit of cream-coloured serge, with brown shoes and a straw hat. His whole appearance was spic and span, and he looked more like a cherub than ever with his pink and white face. No one would have thought that this innocent blue-eyed youth was such a despicable little scoundrel. His purple necktie, his purple scarf, his purple socks, and the purple band round his hat, were all in keeping with his quality of a Nut. He even wiped his heated face with a purple bordered pocket-handkerchief, and when he came into the room the same wafted a delicate perfume abroad which made Vane growl with disgust.
"What the dickens do you use scent for?" he asked irritably.
"Vane!" said the Nut, not very well pleased to come across one who knew all about his card-table delinquencies. "You here?"
"A pleasant surprise, isn't it, Spruce?" sneered the barrister, who ardently desired to kick the creature into a dusty heap on the road.
"Oh, I don't mind meeting old friends," said Spruce, recovering his impudence. "I'm not your friend, neither is Hench."
"Well,"---Spruce shrugged his elegant shoulders, "let us say old schoolfellows."
"You are a disgrace to Winchester!" raged Vane, scowling. "A cheat and a sneak, a liar and a thief. That's what you are."
"Thanks. Any more names?"
"I may as well add blackmailer," observed Hench coldly.
"In that case I can call you a murderer, which is a worse name!" snarled the Nut, looking very ugly.
"I am not. You are lying as usual."
"Don't insult me too much, Hench. You seem to forget that I am top-dog."
"So far you certainly are. Top-puppy, I should say. Sit down and let us get to business."
Spruce still stood by the door in what he considered was a haughty attitude, and frowned impressively. "I don't see what Vane has to do with any business between you and myself," he said sharply.
"Vane is my friend, and I have asked him here to deal with the matter about which you spoke last night."
"You seem ready to take the whole world into your confidence," said Spruce insolently, dusting a chair with his handkerchief before taking a seat. "If you act in that way I can't protect you."
"Wait till you're asked," said Vane tartly. "Good Lord, the idea of your protecting any one; unless," he added significantly, "it is Madame Alpenny."
"What do you mean by that?" asked the Nut, visibly discomposed.
"Oh, I think you know quite well what I mean, Spruce. You accuse Hench here of murdering his uncle?"
"Yes, I do. And I'll tell the police as much if he doesn't pay my price. The police would give a good deal to find the tramp who asked the way to the Gipsy Stile on the night of the first of July."
"How can you prove that Hench is the tramp?"
"By his own admission."
"And if he does not make that admission in open court?"
"Then I'll leave it to the barmaid at the Bull Inn. She cannot describe our friend's appearance very well, as she is stupid and the tap-room was badly lighted when she saw him. But she declares that she would know his voice. Mr. Owain Hench would then have to prove what he was doing on the night in question, and I don't think that would be easy."
"It certainly would not be easy," said Hench coolly. "I have admitted that you can make out a very good case for the prosecution. All the same you are perfectly aware that I am innocent."
"What makes you say that?" asked Spruce quickly and--as Vane thought--in a somewhat anxious manner.
"Because I think you know who is the guilty person."
"Do I? That remains to be seen."
"Spruce," said Vane in a menacing manner, "you are playing a very dangerous game, and let alone the fact that you are trying to blackmail Hench, you run the risk of condoning a felony."
"Ah!" said the Nut quickly. "Then you suggest that our friend is guilty?"
"Nothing of the sort. I suggest that you pretend to believe him guilty to get this money. But you know perfectly well that he is not."
"Do you mean to insinuate that I know who murdered the Squire?" asked Spruce, with a fine show of indignation.
"Certainly I do," retorted Vane smartly. "Don't put on frills. In my opinion Madame Alpenny, who knew all about the advertisement and the property, is the guilty person. But, as she isn't worth powder and shot, you are trying to fasten the crime on to Hench's shoulders."
"And I can, Mr. James Vane, as you and he shall find."
"Oh!" said Hench cynically. "And you really expect me to pay you two thousand a year to refrain from doing so? I won't."
"You won't?" Spruce was plainly taken aback.
"No. Rather than do so I shall go to the police and tell my story. Better be in the hands of the authorities than in yours."
"You won't dare to do what you say."
"Oh yes, I dare. My conscience is clear, so I am willing to stand the brunt."
Spruce was plainly embarrassed by this defiance and did not very well know what to say or do. If Hench acted as he threatened to do, there would be no money for the Nut, and perhaps an action against him as a blackmailer. He was shrewd enough to see this, and therefore shuffled his cards so that he might not drive his proposed victim to extremities. "What do you wish me to do, then?" he asked sullenly.
Before Hench could reply Vane, who was looking out of the window, turned round sharply. "There is Peter," he said, glancing at his friend. "What the deuce is he hanging round your cottage for?"
The answer came from an unexpected quarter. "Peter is waiting to see me," said Spruce with dignity. "He was at the Bull Inn when your messenger came and I told him to wait until I returned. I expect he has followed me here and expects me to come out soon."
"What are you seeing Peter about?" questioned Hench sharply.
"That is my business," snapped the Nut sulkily.
"Mine also. Peter is the brother of Bottles, who is employed by Mrs. Tesk, and both the boys are meddling in matters which do not concern them. What does it all mean?"
"You had better ask the boy in and question him," sneered Spruce coolly.
"I shall do so after we have dispatched this affair," said Hench sharply. "You ask me what I wish you to do. I reply, clear my character."
"How can I do that?"
"In a way best known to yourself. But you are well aware that Madame Alpenny is the guilty person."
"I am not."
"Don't tell lies. It is better worth my while to pay you two thousand a year to prove her guilty and me innocent, than for me to give the income to you merely for the sake of your holding your tongue. That's a thing you never did and never will do."
Spruce considered. "If I prove Madame Alpenny to be guilty," he said, with a greedy gleam in his eyes, "will you pay me the two thousand a year?"
"I'll think about it."
"Then I do nothing. To be quite plain, I can clear your character in the way you say----"
"Ah, I knew you were lying."
"----But I shan't do so unless you agree, in the presence of Vane, to give me my price."
"It is too large a price," grumbled the barrister. "Large or small, it is what I want."
"I'll give you one thousand a year if you----"
"Two thousand."
Hench looked at Vane and Vane at Hench, as both were uncertain how to act. A very difficult question had to be threshed out. Owain was unwilling to pay blackmail, yet if he did not there was bound to be trouble. If he did he was quite certain that Spruce could clear his character. For an honourable man the position was very trying, but there seemed to be only one way out of it.
"Very good," said Hench with an effort. "You must have your price, Shylock, as my life and liberty are more to me than money, and there is no denying but what you have me in a cleft stick. I promise to give you two thousand a year if you remove all danger from me of being accused."
"I can do that."
"Then you know who murdered my uncle?"
"I do. Madame Alpenny is guilty, as you thought. But I alone can prove her guilt. I have your promise in Vane's presence to give me the income?"
"Yes," said Hench with another effort, for he hated giving way thus ignobly to this scoundrel. "You have my promise."
"You hear, Vane? I shall call you as a witness in case of non-payment."
"I hear," said the barrister, smoking phlegmatically. "I am surety for Hench's good faith. You shall be paid, you rat. Now prove to us that you can have the woman arrested."
Spruce drew a long breath of relief, as things were now going exactly as he wished. Like the traitor he was, he gaily went to work and sold Madame Alpenny's secret to gain the money. "She came down to see Evans after she knew that Hench was his nephew."
"I know that," said Owain quickly. "Tell us something new."
"All in good time," said Spruce smoothly. "I made her confess how she arranged with Evans about the advertisement and how to draw your attention to it."
"Why was the appointment made in Parley Wood instead of in the house?" asked Vane, whom the problem had frequently perplexed.
"I can't tell you. Madame Alpenny never explained that to me. All I know is that she laid the trap for Hench to fall into, and he did."
"Only to find that my uncle was dead."
"Of course," said Spruce, turning towards Hench with raised eyebrows; "that was the trap. She intended to accuse you, and thus force you to marry Zara so that she could handle the money."
"That I also know, and she did accuse me. Well?"
"Well, she came down here by the same train as you did, and while you were at the Bull Inn she went on to Parley Wood and murdered the Squire."
"How can you prove that?"
"Very easily." Spruce rose from his chair, and going to the window beckoned in the page. "Come here, I want you!" he cried.
Peter started and seemed very much inclined to run away. But after a pause he braced up his courage and entered the house. Shortly he was standing before the three men, twisting his cap and looking very nervous. His likeness to his town brother was more apparent than ever, and Hench winced to think how Bottles had betrayed him. He had always believed that he could trust the boy to the uttermost.
"Peter," said Spruce, sitting down again and enjoying his position of dictator, "you must tell this gentleman what you told me."
"If Simon wishes me to," blurted out Peter.
"He does wish you. I brought you that letter from Simon telling you to do whatever I asked you. Isn't that so?"
"Yes, sir." Peter flushed and quivered, and wriggled in a most uneasy way. "Well, then, tell them what you told me about Madame Alpenny coming to Cookley on the night when Squire Evans was murdered."
"Simon sent me a telegram telling me to watch for her," said Peter, speaking to the three generally. "And as I knew how she was dressed I easily did so, even though she wore a veil."
"How did you know her dress?" asked Hench sharply.
"Well, sir, when Simon came down here for his holiday he told me as he'd follered Madame Alpenny, who was up to some game. I met him then at the station, when he told me, and he follered her to the Grange. I follered him and hid in Parley Wood outside because Simon told me to. He watched at the gate. She saw the Squire and then came out, and after passing Simon she went into the wood follering the path to the Gipsy Stile."
"What did she go there for?" questioned Vane.
"To see the Squire."
"But she had seen him in the house."
"So she had, but he came to her at the Gipsy Stile afterwards. Both Simon and I follered and hid to listen. The Squire said as he would put in an advertisement asking 'Rhaiadr' to meet him at the Gipsy Stile, and said as he brought her there to see the meeting-place. When Madame Alpenny examined it and the Squire showed her how to get to it from the church she went away, and the Squire he returned to his house. Simon and me saw Madame Alpenny go to the station and catch the train to town. That was all that happened at that time. So you see, sir, how I knew how she was dressed."
"I understand, though it is difficult to know why your brother suspected her."
"Oh, Simon is sharp, sir, and he saw she was up to some games. He'll tell you all about it."
"I'll see to that," said Hench grimly. "I'll have no more of this underhanded work. Well, go on. What about the second occasion when you saw her?"
"Simon sent me a telegram saying as she was coming by a perticler train and to watch her at the station. I went there and saw her in the same dress, so I knew her in spite of the veil. Simon was there too, but he couldn't wait to speak to me, but just follered her, waving me back. I follered them as far as the church and waited there. Madame Alpenny, with Simon after her, went into the wood, and after staying there for a long time she came out and ran for the station."
"Was Simon following her then?" asked Vane, alertly.
"No, sir. He was still hiding in the wood, I think. I hid in the churchyard behind a tomb, and Madame she ran past me. I waited in the churchyard for Simon, and later I saw you, sir."
"Me!" said Hench, starting up. "Yes, sir. You went through the churchyard and along the path. When you got into the wood Simon came running out as white as death, and told me as Madame Alpenny had murdered the Squire. He made me swear to hold my tongue, lest I and him should get into trouble. Then he went off to catch the train to London and I went home."
"Why didn't you tell the police all this?" asked Hench, frowning.
"Oh, I couldn't, sir," replied Peter in a most ingenuous way. "Simon made me promise not to in case we'd both get into trouble. But as he wrote saying I could tell Mr. Spruce I have done so, and as Mr. Spruce says I can tell you I have----"
"There! There!" Spruce waved the boy into silence. "That is enough. You can go, and hold your tongue. Simon's orders, remember. Well,"--he turned to the two men,--"do you see how I can prove your innocence and Madame Alpenny's guilt?"
"Yes," said Hench thoughtfully. "As Peter here saw me when I entered the wood, and Simon told him that the Squire was already dead, I see how my character can be cleared. Well, Spruce, I shall go to town and see the woman and the boy. When I settle with them I shall see you about your reward."
"Don't you try and sell me," threatened Spruce, putting on his hat. "If you do it will be the worse for you."
"Pah! Get out, you little swine," said Vane contemptuously, and the Nut departed considerably pleased with himself in spite of the scornful epithet.
Peter lingered behind. "See Simon, sir. He'll explain," he said in a whisper.
"Oh, I'll see him. But he's a little Judas," said Hench angrily.
"No, sir. He ain't a Judas," said Peter, speaking grandiloquently. "Simon's as true to you as a needle is to the North Pole." And then he ran away hastily, evidently afraid of being questioned further. Hench let him go.
CHAPTER XIX
A DENIAL
On the day after the interview with Spruce it was necessary for Owain to travel to London for the purpose of having an interview with Madame Alpenny. Vane at first wished to go with him, but on second thoughts decided that it would be best for him to remain in Cookley and keep a close watch on the Nut. That traitor, having behaved treacherously, was as pleased with himself as if he had acted in a most honourable manner. He was now certain of an excellent income, and determined to go abroad for a year or so to enjoy himself until such time as his West End friends forgot his little mistake at cards. Meanwhile he remained at the Bull Inn waiting for the arrest of the Hungarian lady, when everything would be put ship-shape. Spruce was very pleased with every one and everything since matters had turned out so well. That they had turned out badly for Madame Alpenny did not worry him in the least. He was much too busy building castles in the air to trouble about her.
Owain had given Mrs. Perage and Gwen a full account of the discovery of the old woman's guilt. They were naturally shocked, but scarcely surprised, as for a long time circumstances had tended to make them think that Madame Alpenny had murdered the Squire. At the same time Gwen pleaded with her lover to deal gently with the wretched creature as she was Zara's mother, and they both owed a great deal to Zara. Hench admitted as much and promised to be as lenient as he could. Nevertheless, he pointed out that to save himself he would have to inform the police about the woman's guilt. Unwilling as he was to act so drastically, there was no other course to be taken. All the way to London the young man argued out the matter in his own vexed mind, but was unable to see how he could shield Madame Alpenny. It was a pity that Zara, who was innocent, should suffer for the wickedness of her mother. All the same, it was impossible to spare her the shock. Owain hated the idea of saving himself at the expense of a woman, but in strict justice to himself, and considering that his liberty and life were at stake, he could not see what else he could do. When he was on his way to Bethnal Green he fully made up his mind to act as justice dictated.
The Home of the Muses was much in the same state as Hench had left it, although there were several new boarders. Mrs. Tesk received him joyfully, and conducted him to her sanctum saying that she wished for a private conversation with him. Madame Alpenny, it appeared, was in the drawing-room along with Bracken and Zara.
"For a surprising thing has occurred," said Mrs. Tesk, who looked more like a retired school-mistress than ever. "They are now man and wife."
"Oh!" Hench expected something of this sort, but was astonished to learn that the young couple had got married so promptly. "Man and wife, are they?"
"Yes! They have entered into the bonds of matrimony, and are now breaking the news to Madame Alpenny."
"She won't be pleased," observed Hench, with a shrug. "Oh, I am sure she will be very annoyed indeed!" cried Mrs. Tesk, clasping her hands with a look of distress. "She intended you to be her son-in-law. She told me so several times."
"Ah! There is such a thing as counting your chickens before they are hatched, Mrs. Tesk," was the young man's dry reply.
"But you loved Mademoiselle Zara--or rather I should now say Mrs. Bracken."
"I admired her," corrected Owain. "I never loved her. She quite understood my feeling. I wish her and Bracken all manner of luck."