The Broken Thread

by William Le Queux

the young fellow, speaking eagerlyinto the mouthpiece.

  "Oh, sir, I--I--I can't tell you over the 'phone," replied the oldservant. "Her ladyship has forbidden us to say anything at all."

  "But, Edgson, surely I may know!" cried the young man, frantically.

  "We thought you were on your way home, sir," the butler replied. "Can'tyou come, Master Raife?"

  "Yes, of course, I'm leaving now--at once. But I'm anxious to know whathas happened."

  "Come home, sir, and her ladyship will tell you."

  "Go at once and say that I am at the 'phone," Raife ordered, angrily.

  "I'm very sorry, sir, but I can't," was the response. "I have verystrict orders from her ladyship, but I'm sorry to have to disobey you,sir."

  "Can't you tell me anything? Can't you give me an inkling of what's thematter?" urged Raife.

  "I'm very sorry, sir, I can't," replied the old man, quietly, but veryfirmly.

  Raife knew Edgson of old. With him the word of either master ormistress was law. Edgson had been in his father's service ever sincehis earliest recollection, and though fond of a glass of good port, ashis ruddy nose betrayed, he was the most trusted servant of all thestaff.

  He would give no explanation of what had occurred, therefore, Raife,furiously angry with the old man, "rang off."

  The train journey from Southport seemed interminable. His mind was in awhirl. The brief words of the telegram, "Come home at once, urgent,"kept ringing in his ears, above the roar of the carriage wheels. He hadthe sensations of a man in a nightmare. What could have happened, andto whom? His mother had sent the "wire," and therefore it most probablyconcerned his father.

  And ever and again, at the back of his mind, racked with this horriblesuspense and uncertainty, was the image of the mysterious girl whoseacquaintance he had made on the Southport front. He could hear the low,sweet tones of her musical voice, he could see the grace of her daintyfigure. Should he ever meet her again? Would she ever be to him morethan a fascinating acquaintance?

  When at length he got into London, he felt he could not bear the slowtorture of another railway journey. He went to a garage close to thestation and hired a motor-car. From there to Tunbridge Wells seemed buta short distance: at any rate, there was action in the movement of thethrobbing car, as opposed to the monotony of the train.

  But even though the speed limit was exceeded many times in the course ofthat journey, it seemed hours to his impatient mood before they reachedthe lodge gates and raced up the stately avenue.

  The avenue was three-quarters of a mile long, but at last, RaifeRemington, at a bend in the drive, came in view of his home--a great,old, ivy-covered Tudor mansion, with quaint gables, high, twistedchimneys, and two pointed towers. At one end was the tall,stained-glass window of the private chapel, while at the other weredomestic offices of later date, and in other forms of architecture.

  Passing the inner gate, and between the lawns, where the flower bedswere gay with geraniums, the car entered the great open gateway, anddrew up in the ancient courtyard, around which the grand old place wasbuilt--that same quiet courtyard where the horse's hoofs of King Henrythe Seventh had so often echoed upon the uneven cobbles, where Sir HenryReymingtoune, Chancellor to Elizabeth, had bowed low and made hisobeisance to his capricious royal mistress, and where Charles theSecond, in later days, had idled, surrounded by his elegant, silk-coatedsycophants.

  The Remingtons had, ever since the fourteenth century, played their partin England's government: once a great and powerful family, and evento-day a notable and honourable house.

  As the car drew up at the door, Raife sprang out, and rushing throughthe great stone hall, the flags of which were worn hollow by the treadof generations, and where stood the stands of armour of deadReymingtounes, he came face to face with old Edgson, grave andwhite-haired.

  "Ah, Master Raife!" cried the old man, "I'm so glad you've come, sir.Her ladyship is in the boudoir awaiting you."

  "What's happened, Edgson?" demanded the young man.

  "Please don't ask me, sir. Her ladyship will tell you," was the oldservant's response, in a half-choked voice, and he turned away.

  A few moments later, Raife entered the small, cosy little room, with thehigh, diamond-pane windows, whereon were stained-glass escutcheons. Twowomen were there, his mother seated with her face buried in her hands,sobbing bitterly, and, beside her, her faithful companion, an elderlyspinster named Miss Holt, who had been in the family for many years andhad, indeed, been at school with Lady Remington.

  Miss Holt, who was on her knees trying to comfort Raife's mother, roseas the son entered.

  "Mother!" he cried, rushing towards her. "What's the matter? Tell me--for heaven's sake! Edgson will tell me nothing."

  But all the response from the agonised woman was a long, low groan.

  "Miss Holt," he said, turning to her companion. "Tell me, what hashappened?"

  The angular woman, whose face was pale and thin, raised a warningfinger, and pointed in silence to the sobbing lady. Then she whispered:

  "Come into the next room, and I will tell you."

  Both passed into the inner room, and when Miss Holt had closed the door,she said:

  "I am sorry to have to break the awful news to you, Mr Raife, but amost remarkable and terrible affair occurred here, early this morning.From what I am able to gather, your father, who--as you know--sleepsover the library, was awakened about three o'clock by an unusual noise,and, listening, came to the conclusion that a slow, sawing process wasin progress in the library--that some one was below."

  "Burglars!" ejaculated Raife.

  "Your father took his revolver and the little electric flash-lamp whichhe always has in his room, and, preferring to investigate before ringingand alarming the household, crept downstairs and noiselessly opened thelibrary door. Inside, he saw a small light moving. In an instant, aman who had already opened the safe, drew a revolver and fired pointblank at your father."

  "Shot my father!" gasped Raife, staring at her. "Yes. Unfortunatelythe bullet struck Sir Henry. He fell, but while on the ground, andbefore the burglar could escape, he fired and shot him dead. We wereall alarmed by the shots--and for the rest, well, you had better askEdgson. He will tell you. I must go back to your poor mother."

  "But my father?"

  "Alas! he is dead," was the thin-faced woman's hushed response.

  "Dead!" gasped Raife, staggered. "Then the fellow murdered him!"

  Miss Holt nodded in the affirmative.

  At that moment old Edgson entered with a message. The doctor hadreturned to see her ladyship.

  Raife barred the old servant's passage, saying:

  "Miss Holt has told me, Edgson. Explain at once what had happened whenyou were all alarmed."

  "Well, Master Raife, I rushed down, sir," replied the old fellow,white-faced and agitated. "Burton, the footman, got down first, andwhen I rushed into the library I found the poor master lying on thecarpet doubled up, with blood all over his pyjama-jacket. He recognisedme, sir, and declared, in a low, weak voice, that the thief had shothim. At first I was so scared that I couldn't act or think. But, onswitching on the lights, I saw the body of a stranger--an elderly man,wearing thin indiarubber gloves--lying near the French window."

  "Then my father was still conscious?"

  "Quite. I sent Burton to the telephone to ring up Doctor Grant, inTunbridge Wells, while I did all I could to restore the poor master. Hewas then quite sensible. With Burton's aid I managed to get him on tothe couch in the bedroom, and then he spoke several disjointed sentenceswhile we waited for the doctor's arrival. He asked for you, sir, andtold me to give you a message."

  "A message, Edgson! What message did he leave for me?" asked the son,eagerly.

  "His words were these, sir: `Tell Master Raife that the blackguarddeliberately shot me! Tell him--to be careful--to be wary of the trap.I--I hesitated to tell the boy the truth, but now, Edgson, alas! it istoo late!'"

&nb
sp; "The truth!" ejaculated young Remington. "What did he mean, Edgson?What did he mean about being careful of the trap?"

  "Ah! I don't know, Master Raife," replied the old servant, shaking hishead gravely. "Some secret of his, no doubt. I pressed the master toreveal it to me; but all he would reply was: `I was a fool, Edgson. Iought to have told my boy from the first. Every man has a skeleton inhis cupboard, Edgson. This is mine!' Then he murmured something about`her' and `that woman'--a woman in the case, it struck me, MasterRaife."

  "A woman!" echoed young Remington.

  "So it seemed. But,