As We Forgive Them

by William Le Queux

snappy oldtabbies in whose hands some girls are. There's Lady Anetta Gordon, forinstance, and Vi Drummond, both pretty girls out last season, but whoselives are rendered perfect tortures by those two ugly old hags who cartthem about. Why, they've both told me they dare not raise their eyes toa man without a snappy lecture next day on polite manners and maidenmodesty."

  "Well," I said frankly, standing on the hearthrug, and looking down ather handsome figure: "I really don't think you have had much to complainabout up to the present. Your poor father was most indulgent, and I'msure Mrs. Percival, although she may seem rather harsh at times, is onlyspeaking for your own benefit."

  "Oh, I know I'm a very wilful girl in your eyes," she exclaimed, with asmile. "You always used to say so when I was at school."

  "Well, to tell the truth, you were," I answered quite openly.

  "Of course. You men never make allowance for a girl. You assume yourfreedom with your first long trousers, while we unfortunate girls arenot allowed a single moment alone, either inside the house or out of it.No matter whether we be as ugly as Mother Shipton or as beautiful asVenus, we must all of us be tied up to some elder woman, who very oftenis just as fond of a mild flirtation as the simpering young miss in hercharge. Forgive me for speaking so candidly, won't you, Mr. Greenwood,but my opinion is that the modern methods of society are all sham andhumbug."

  "You're not in a very polite mood to-day, it seems," I remarked, beingunable to restrain a smile.

  "No, I'm not," she admitted. "Mrs. Percival is so very aggravating. Iwant to go down to Mayvill this afternoon, and she won't let me goalone."

  "Why do you so particularly wish to go there alone?"

  She flushed slightly, and appeared for a moment to be confused.

  "Oh, well, I don't want to go alone very particularly, you know," shetried to assure me. "It is the foolishness of not allowing me to traveldown there like any other girl that I object to. If a maid can take arailway journey alone, why can't I?"

  "Because you have the _convenances_ of society to respect--the domesticservant need not."

  "Then I prefer the lot of the domestic," she declared in a manner whichtold me that something had annoyed her. For my own part I should haveregretted very much if Mrs. Percival had consented to her going down toHerefordshire alone, while it also seemed apparent that she had somesecret reason of her own for not taking her elder companion with her.

  What, I wondered, could it be?

  I inquired the reason why she wished to go to Mayvill without even amaid, but she made an excuse that she wanted to see the other fourhunters were being properly treated by the studs-man, and also to make asearch through her father's study to ascertain whether any important orconfidential papers remained there. She had the keys, and intended todo this before that odious person, Dawson, assumed his office.

  This suggestion, evidently made as an excuse, struck me as one thatreally should be acted upon without delay, yet it was so very plain thatshe desired to go alone that at first I hesitated to offer to accompanyher. Our friendship was of such a close and intimate character that Icould of course offer to do so without overstepping the bounds ofpropriety, nevertheless I resolved to first endeavour to learn thereason of her strong desire to travel alone.

  She was a clever woman, however, and had no intention of telling me.She had a strong and secret desire to go down alone to that fine oldcountry house that was now her own, and did not desire that Mrs.Percival should accompany her.

  "If you are really going to search the library, Mabel, had I not betteraccompany and help you?" I suggested presently. "That is, of course,if you will permit me," I added apologetically.

  For a moment she was silent, as though devising some means out of adilemma, then she answered--

  "If you'll come, I'll of course be only too delighted. Indeed, youreally ought to assist me, for we might discover some key to the cipheron the cards. My father was down there for three days about a fortnightbefore his death."

  "When shall we start?"

  "At three-thirty from Paddington. Will that suit you? You shall comeand be my guest." And she laughed mischievously at such utter break-upof the _convenances_ and the probable chagrin of the long-suffering Mrs.Percival.

  "Very well," I agreed; and ten minutes later I went down with her andput her, smiling sweetly, into her smart victoria, the servants of whichwere now in mourning.

  You perceive that I was playing a very dangerous game? And so I was; asyou will afterwards see.

  At the hour appointed I met her at Paddington, and putting aside her sadthoughtfulness at her bereavement we travelled together down to DunmoreStation, beyond Hereford. Here we entered the brougham awaiting us, andafter a drive of nearly three miles, descended before the splendid oldmansion which Burton Blair had bought two years before for the sake ofthe shooting and fishing surrounding it.

  Standing in its fine park half-way between King's Pyon and Dilwyn,Mayvill Court was, and is still, one of the show places of the county.It was an ideal ancestral hall. The grand old gabled house with itslofty square towers, its Jacobean entrance, gateway and dovecote, andthe fantastically clipped box-trees and sun-dial of its quaintold-fashioned garden, possessed a delightful charm which few otherancient mansions could boast, and a still further interesting featurelay in its perfectly unaltered state throughout, even to the minutestdetail. For close on three hundred years it had been held by itsoriginal owners, the Baddesleys, until Blair had purchased it--furniture, pictures, armour, everything just as it stood.

  It was nearly nine o'clock when Mrs. Gibbons, the elderly housekeeper,welcomed us, in tears at the death of her master, and we passed into thegreat oak-panelled hall in which hung the sword and portrait of thegallant cavalier. Captain Harry Baddesley, of whom there still was tolda romantic story. Narrowly escaping from the battle-field, the captainspurred homewards, with some of Cromwell's soldiers close at his heels;and his wife, a lady of great courage, had scarcely concealed him in thesecret chamber when the enemy arrived to search the house. Littledaunted, the lady assisted them and personally conducted them over themansion. As in so many instances, the secret room was entered from theprincipal bedroom, and in inspecting the latter the Roundheads had theirsuspicions aroused. So they decided to stay the night.

  The hunted man's wife sent them an ample supper and some wine which hadbeen carefully drugged, with the result that the unwelcome visitors werevery soon soundly asleep, and the gallant captain, before the effects ofthe wine had worn off, were far beyond their reach.

  Since that day the old place had remained absolutely unchanged, with itsrows of dark, time-mellowed family portraits in the big hall, itsJacobean furniture and its old helmets and pikes that had borne thebrunt of Naseby. The night was bitterly cold. In the great open hearthhuge logs were blazing, and as we stood there to warm ourselves afterour journey, Mrs. Gibbons, who had been apprised of our advent bytelegraph, announced that she had prepared supper for us as she knew wecould not arrive in time for dinner.

  Both she and her husband expressed the deepest sympathy with Mabel inher bereavement, and then having removed our coats we went on into thesmall dining-room, where supper was served by Gibbons and the footmanwith that old-fashioned stateliness characteristic of all in that fineold-world mansion.

  Gibbons and his wife, old retainers of the former owners, were, I think,somewhat surprised that I had accompanied their young mistress alone,nevertheless Mabel had explained to them how she wished to make a searchof her father's effects in the library, and that for that reason she hadinvited me to accompany her. Yet I must confess that I, on my part, hadnot yet formed any conclusion as to the real reason of her visit. Thatthere was some ulterior motive in it I felt certain, but what it was Icould not even guess.

  After supper Mrs. Gibbons took my pretty companion to her room, whileGibbons showed me the one prepared for me, a long big chamber on thefirst floor, from the windows of which I had a wide view over theundulating lawns to Wormsley
Hill and Sarnesfield. I had occupied theroom on several occasions, and knew it well, with its great old carvedfour-poster bed, antique hangings, Jacobean chests and polished oakenceiling.

  After a wash I rejoined my dainty little hostess in the library--a big,long, old room, where a fire burned brightly and the lamps were softlyshaded with yellow silk. Over the fireplace were craved in stone thethree water-bougets of the Baddesleys, with the date 1601, while thewhole room from end to end was lined with brown-backed books that hadprobably not been disturbed for half-a-century.

  After Mabel had allowed me a cigarette and told Gibbons that she did notwish to be disturbed for an hour or so, she rose and turned the keybehind the servants, so that we might carry out the work ofinvestigation without interruption.

  "Now," she