As We Forgive Them

by William Le Queux

attention.

  Presently, on the old stone bridge across the river which formed theoutlet of the lake, they halted, when, concealing myself behind a tree,I was enabled, by the light of the moon which had fortunately now grownbrighter, to clearly see the features of Mabel's mysterious companion.I judged him to be about twenty-eight, an ill-bred, snub-nosed,yellow-haired common-looking fellow, whose hulking form as he leanedagainst the low parapet was undoubtedly that of an agriculturist. Hisface was hard-featured and prematurely weather-beaten, while the cut ofhis clothes was distinctly that of the "ready-made" emporium of theprovincial town. His hard felt hat was cocked a little askew, as isusual with the yokel as well as with the costermonger when he takes hisSunday walk.

  As far as I could observe he seemed to be treating her withextraordinary disdain and familiarity, addressing her as "Mab" andlighting a cheap cigarette in her presence, while on her part she seemedrather ill at ease, as though she were there under compulsion ratherthan by choice.

  She had dressed herself warmly in a thick frieze driving cape and aclose-fitting peaked cap which, drawn over her eyes, half-concealed herfeatures.

  "I really can't see your object, Herbert," I heard her distinctly argue."What could such an action possibly benefit you?"

  "A lot," the fellow answered, adding in a rough, uncouth voice whichbore the unmistakable brogue of the countryman, "What I say I mean. Youknow that, don't yer?"

  "Of course," she answered. "But why do you treat me in this manner?Think of the risks I run in meeting you here to-night. What wouldpeople think if it were known?"

  "What do I care what people think!" he exclaimed carelessly. "Of courseyou've got to keep up appearances--fortunately, I ain't."

  "But you surely won't do what you threaten?" she exclaimed in a voice ofblank dismay. "Remember that our secrets have been mutual. I havenever betrayed you--never in any single thing."

  "No, because you knew what would be the result if you did," he laughedwith a sneer. "I never trust a woman's word--I don't. You're rich nowthe old man's dead, and I want money," he said decisively.

  "But I haven't any yet," she replied. "When will you have some?"

  "I don't know. There are all sorts of law formalities to go throughbefore, so Mr. Greenwood says."

  "Oh! a curse on Greenwood!" the fellow burst forth. "He's always withyou up in London, they say. Ask him to get you some money from thelawyers. Tell him you're hard up--got to pay bills, or something. Anylie will do for him."

  "Impossible, Herbert," she answered, trying to remain calm. "You mustreally be patient."

  "Oh, yes, I know!" he cried. "Call me good dog and all that. But thatkind of game don't suit me--you hear? I've got no money, and I musthave some at once--tonight."

  "I haven't any," she declared.

  "But you've got lots of jewellery and plate and stuff. Give me some ofthat, and I can sell it easily in Hereford to-morrow. Where's thatdiamond bracelet the old man gave you for a present last birthday--theone you showed me?"

  "Here," she replied, and raised her wrist, showing him the beautifuldiamond and sapphire ornament her father had given her, the worth ofwhich was two hundred pounds at the very least.

  "Give me that," he said. "It'll last me a day or two until you get mesome cash."

  She hesitated, evidently indisposed to accede to such a request and moreespecially as the bracelet was the last present her father had made her.Yet, when he repeated his demands in a more threatening tone, it becameplain that the fellow's influence was supreme, and that she was ashelpless as a child in his unscrupulous hands.

  The situation came upon me as an absolute revelation. I could onlysurmise that a harmless flirtation in the years before her affluence haddeveloped into this common fellow presuming upon her good nature, and,finding her generous and sympathetic, he had now assumed an attitude ofmastery over her actions. The working of the rustic mind is mostdifficult to follow. To-day in rural England there is so very littlereal gratitude shown by the poor towards the rich that in the countrydistricts, charity is almost entirely unappreciated, while the wealthyare becoming weary of attempting to please or improve the people. Yourrustic of to-day, while perfectly honest in his dealings with his ownclass, cannot resist dishonesty when selling his produce or his labourto the rich man. It seems part of his religion to get, by fair means orby foul, as much as he can out of the gentleman, and then abuse him inthe village ale-house and dub him a fool for allowing himself to be thuscheated. Much as I regret to allege it, nevertheless it is a plain andbitter truth that swindling and immorality are the two most notablefeatures of English village life at the present moment.

  I stood listening to that strange conversation between the millionaire'sdaughter and her secret lover, immovable and astounded.

  The arrogance of the fellow caused my blood to boil. A dozen times ashe sneered at her insultingly, now cajoling, now threatening, and nowmaking a disgusting pretence of affection, I felt impelled to rush outand give him a good sound hiding. It was, indeed, only because Irecognised that in this affair, so serious was it, I could only assistMabel by remaining concealed and using my knowledge of it to heradvantage that I held my tongue and stayed my hand.

  Without doubt she had, in her girlish inexperience, once believedherself in love with the fellow, but now the hideousness of the presentsituation was presented to her in all its vivid reality and she sawherself hopelessly involved. Probably it was with a vain hope ofextricating herself that she had kept the appointment; but, in any case,the man whom she called Herbert was quick to detect that he held all thehonours in the game.

  "Now come," he said at last, in his broad brogue, "if you really ain'tgot no money on you, hand over that bracelet and ha' done with it. Wedon't want to wait 'ere all night, for I've got to be in Hereford firstthing in the morning. So the least said the better."

  I saw that, white to the lips, she was trembling in fear of him, for sheshrank from his touch, crying--

  "Ah, Herbert, it is too cruel of you--too cruel--after all I've done tohelp you. Have you no pity, no compassion?"

  "None," he growled. "I want money and must have it. In a week you mustpay me a thousand quid--you hear that, don't you?"

  "But how can I? Wait and I'll give it to you later--indeed, I promise."

  "I tell you I ain't going to be fooled," he cried angrily. "I mean tohave the money, or else I'll blow the whole thing. Then where will yoube--eh?" And he laughed a hard triumphant laugh, while she shrank backpale, breathless and dismayed.

  I clenched my fists, and to this moment I do not know how I restrainedmyself from springing from my hiding-place and knocking the fellow down.At that moment I could have killed him where he stood.

  "Ah!" she cried, her hands clasped to him in a gesture of supplication,"you surely don't mean what you say, you can't mean that, you reallycan't! You'll spare me, won't you? Promise me!"

  "No, I won't spare you," was his brutal reply, "unless you pay me well."

  "I will, I will," she assured him in a low, hoarse voice, which waseminently that of a desperate woman, terrified lest some terrible secretof hers should be exposed.

  "Ah!" he sneered with curling lip, "you treated me with contempt once,because you were a fine lady, but I am yet to have my revenge, as youwill see. You are now mistress of a great fortune, and I tell you quiteplainly that I intend you to share it with me. Act just as you thinkbest, but recollect what refusal will mean to you--exposure!"

  "Ah!" she cried desperately, "to-night you have revealed yourself inyour true light! You brute, you would, without the slightestcompunction, ruin me!"

  "Because, my dear girl, you are not playing straight," was his cool,arrogant reply. "You thought that you had most ingeniously got rid ofme for ever, until to-night here I am, you see, back again, ready to--well, to be pensioned off, shall we call it? Don't think I intend toallow you to fool me this time, so just give me the bracelet as a firstinstalment, and say no more." And he snatched
at her arm while she, bya quick movement, avoided him.

  "I refuse," she cried with a fierce and sudden determination. "I knowyou now! You are brutal and inhuman, without a speck of either love oresteem--a man who would drive a woman to suicide in order to get money.Now you have been released from prison you intend to live upon me--yourletter with that proposal is sufficient proof. But I tell you hereto-night that you will obtain not a penny more from me beyond the moneythat is now paid you every month."

  "To keep my mouth closed," he interrupted. And I saw an evil, murderousglitter in his black eyes.

  "You need not keep it closed any longer," she said in open defiance."Indeed, I shall tell the truth myself, and thus put an end to thisbrilliant blackmailing scheme of yours. So now you understand," sheadded firmly, with a courage that was admirable.

  A silence fell between them for a moment, broken only by the weird cryof an owl.

  "Then that is absolutely your decision, eh?" he inquired in a hardvoice, while I noticed that his face was white with anger and chagrin ashe recognised that, if she told the truth and faced the consequence ofher own exposure, whatever it might be, his power over her would bedispelled.

  "My mind is made up. I have no fear of any exposure you may makeconcerning me."

  "At any rate give me that bracelet," he demanded savagely, with setteeth, grasping her arm and trying by force to undo the clasp.

  "Let me go!" she cried. "You brute! Let me go! Would you rob me, aswell as insult me?"

  "Rob you!" he muttered, his coarse white face wearing a dangerousexpression of unbridled hatred, "rob you!" he hissed with a ford oath,"I'll do more. I'll put you where your cursed tongue won't wag again,and where you won't be able to tell the truth!"

  And, unfortunately, before I was aware of his intentions he had seizedher by the wrists and, with a quick movement, forced her backwards soviolently against the low parapet of the bridge that for a moment theystood locked in a deadly embrace.

  Mabel screamed on realising his intentions, but next second with a vileimprecation he had forced her backwards over the low wall, and with aloud splash she fell helplessly into the deep, dark waters.

  In an instant, while the fellow took to his heels, I dashed forward toher rescue, but, alas! too late, for, as I peered eagerly down into thedarkness, I saw to my dismay that the swirling icy flood had closed overher, that she had disappeared.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

  THE CROSSWAYS AT OWSTON.

  The sound of the assassin's fast-receding footsteps, as he escaped awaydown the dark avenue towards the road, awakened me to a keen sense of myresponsibility, and in an instant I had divested myself of my overcoatand coat, and stood peering anxiously into the darkness beneath thebridge.

  Those seconds seemed hours, until of a sudden I caught sight of a flashof white in mid stream, and without a moment's hesitation I dived inafter it.

  The shock of the icy water was a severe one but, fortunately, I am astrong swimmer, and neither the intense coldness nor the strength of thecurrent interfered much with my progress as I struck out towards theunconscious girl. Having seized her, however, I had to battle severelyto prevent being swept out around the bend where I, knew that the river,joined by another stream, broadened out, and where any chances ofeffecting a rescue would be very small.

  For some minutes I struggled with all my might to hold the unconsciousgirl's head above the surface, yet so strong was the swirling flood,with its lumps of floating ice, that all resistance seemed impossible,and we were both swept down for some distance until at last, summoningmy last effort I managed to strike out with my senseless burden andreach a shallow, where I managed by dint of fierce struggling, to landand to drag the unfortunate girl up the frozen bank.

  I had once, long ago, attended an ambulance class, and now, acting uponthe instructions I had there received, I set at once to work to produceartificial respiration. It was heavy work alone, with my wet clothesfreezing stiff upon me, but still I persevered, determined, if possible,to restore her to consciousness, and this I was fortunately able to dowithin half an hour.

  At first she could utter no word, and I did not question her.Sufficient was it for me to know that she was still alive, for whenfirst I had brought her to land I believed that she was beyond humanaid, and that the dastardly attempt of her low-born lover had beensuccessful. She shivered from head to foot, for the night wind cut likea knife, and presently, at my suggestion, she rose and, leaning heavilyupon my arm, tried to walk. The attempt was at first only a feeble one,but presently she quickened her pace slightly and, without either of usmentioning what had occurred, I conducted her up the long avenue back tothe house. Once within she declared that it was unnecessary to callMrs. Gibbons. In low whispers she implored me to remain silent uponwhat had occurred. She took my hand in hers and held it.

  "I want you, if you will, to forget all that has transpired," she said,deeply in earnest. "If you followed me and overheard what passedbetween us, I want you to consider that those words have never beenuttered. I--I want you to--" she faltered and then paused withoutconcluding her sentence.

  "What do you wish me to do?" I inquired, after a brief and painfulsilence.

  "I want you to still regard me with some esteem, as you always havedone," she said, bursting into tears, "I don't like to think that I'vefallen in your estimation. Remember, I am a woman--and may be forgivena woman's impulses and follies."

  "You have not fallen in my estimation at all, Mabel," I assured her."My only regret is that the scoundrel made such an outrageous attemptupon you. But it was fortunate that I followed you, although I supposeI ought to apologise to you for acting the eavesdropper."

  "You saved my life," was her whispered answer, as she pressed my hand inthanks. Then she crept swiftly and silently up the big staircase andwas lost to view.

  Next morning she appeared at the breakfast-table, looking apparentlylittle the worse for her narrow escape, save perhaps that around hereyes were dark rings that told of sleeplessness and terrible anxiety.But she nevertheless chatted merrily, as though no care weighed upon hermind. While Gibbons was in the room serving us she could not speakconfidentially, but as she looked across at me, her glance was full ofmeaning.

  At last, when we had finished and had walked together across the greathall back to the library, I said to her--

  "Shall you allow the regrettable incident of last night to passunnoticed? If you do, I fear that man may make another attempt uponyou. Therefore it will surely be better if he understands once and forall that I was a witness of his dastardly cowardice."

  "No," she replied in a low, pained voice. "Please don't let us discussit. It must pass."

  "Why?"

  "Because if I were to seek to punish him he might bring forwardsomething--something that I wish kept secret."

  I knew that, I recollected every word of that heated conversation. Theblackmailer held some secret of hers which, being detrimental, shedreaded might be revealed.

  Surely it was all a strange and most remarkable enigma from beginning toend! From that winter night on the highway near Helpstone, when I hadfound her fallen at the wayside, until that very moment, mystery hadpiled upon mystery and secret upon secret until, with Burton Blair'sdecease and with the pack of tiny cards he had so curiously bequeathedto me, the problem had assumed gigantic proportions.

  "That man would have murdered you, Mabel," I said. "You are is fear ofhim?"

  "I am," she answered simply, her gaze fixed across the lawn and parkbeyond, and she sighed.

  "But ought you not to assume the defensive now that the fellow hasdeliberately endeavoured to take your life?" I argued. "His villainousaction last night was purely criminal!"

  "It was," she said in a blank, hollow voice, turning her eyes upon me."I had no idea of his intention. I confess that I came down herebecause he compelled me to meet him. He has heard of my father's deathand now realises that he can obtain money from me; that I shall beforced to yield
to his demands."

  "You may surely tell me his name," I said.

  "Herbert Hales," she replied, not, however, without some hesitation.Then she added, "But I do wish Mr. Greenwood, you would do me a favourand not mention the painful affair again. You do not know how it upsetsme, or how much depends upon that man's silence."

  I promised, although before doing so I tried my level best to induce herto give me some clue to the nature of the secret held by the uncouthyokel. But she was still obdurate and refused to tell me anything.

  That the secret was something which affected herself or her own honourseemed quite plain, for, at every suggestion of mine to bring the fellowface to face with her, she shrank in fear of the startling revelation hecould make.

  I wondered whether that document, for her eyes only, which had beenwritten by the man now dead, and which she had destroyed on the previousnight, had any connexion with the secret known by Herbert Hales.Indeed, whatever the nature of that fellow's knowledge, it was potentenough to compel her to travel down from London in order, if possible, Isupposed, to arrange terms with him.

  Fortunately, however, the household at Mayvill was unaware of the eventsof the previous night, and when at midday we left