don't say that," I cried, not knowing what to think. "Has somemisfortune befallen you? Tell me what it is. You surely know that youcan trust me."
"Trust _you_!"
There was bitterness, nay mockery, in her voice.
"Good heavens, yes! Why not?" I cried.
"There is no one in whom I can trust. I can trust you, Mr. Ashton,least of all--now."
Evidently she was labouring under some terrible delusion. Had some oneslandered me--poisoned her mind against me?
"How long have you been here?" I asked suddenly, thinking it best tochange the subject for the moment.
"Since early this morning," she answered at once.
"Did you come here alone?"
"Alone? No, he brought me."
"`He?' Who is `he'?"
"Dago Paulton."
"Dago Paulton?" I echoed. "Is he the man Smithson?" I asked shrewdly.
"Of course. Who else did you suppose?" Then, suddenly, her expressionchanged to one of surprise.
"But you don't know him, surely," she exclaimed. "You have never evenmet him. He told me so himself."
"No, but I know about him," I said, with recollection crowding upon me.
"You don't! You cannot! Who told you about him? And what did theytell you? Oh, this is awful, it is worse than I feared," she exclaimed,in great distress. "And now it is all too late."
"Too late for what? To do what?"
"To help me. To save me from him."
"Does this man want to marry you?"
"He is going to. He _must_ marry me. Ah! You don't know--you--"
My love shuddered, without completing her sentence.
"Why? Is it to save your father?" I hazarded again.
"To save my father--and my mother," she exclaimed. And then, to mysurprise, she sank upon a chair, flung her arms out upon the table infront of her, hid her face up on them, and began to sob hysterically.
"Vera, my dearest, don't--oh! don't," I said beseechingly, as I bentdown, put an arm tenderly about her, and kissed her upon the cheek."Don't cry like that, darling. It's never too late, until a misfortunehas really happened. You are not married to him. There may be a way ofescape. Trust me. Treat me as a friend--we have been friends so long--tell me everything, and I will try to help you out of all your trouble."
She started up.
"Trust you!" she burst forth, her face flushed. "Can I trust any one?"
"I've done nothing; I don't know what you mean, or to what you refer!"I exclaimed blankly.
"Can you look at me like that," she said slowly, after a pause, "andtell me, upon your oath, that you did not reveal my father's secret;that you have never revealed it to anybody--never in your life?"
"I give you my solemn oath, Vera, that I have never in my life revealedit to anybody, or hinted at it, or said anything, either consciously orunconsciously, that might have led any one to suspect," I answeredfervently, with my eyes fixed on hers.
Truth to tell, I had not the remotest idea what the secret was, nor,until this instant, had it ever occurred to me to think that Sir Charlespossessed a secret. I felt, however, that I had a part to play, and Iwas determined to play it to the best of my ability. Vera seemed totake it quite for granted that I knew her father's secret, and I feltinstinctively that, were I to endeavour to assure her that I was incomplete ignorance of everything, she would not, under thecircumstances, believe a single word I said.
"Do you believe me now?" I asked, as she did not speak.
"Yes--I do believe you," was her slow response. And then she let metake her in my ready arms again.
She seemed to have been suddenly relieved of a great weight, and now shespoke in quite her ordinary way.
"Where is Paulton now?" was my next question. At last there seemed tobe some remote possibility of the tangle of past events becominggradually unravelled. I knew, however, that I was treading thin ice. Asingle careless word might lead her to suspect my duplicity. In asense, I was still groping in the dark, pretending that I knew a greatdeal, whereas I knew nothing.
"He is coming to-night to fetch me."
"At what time?"
"At ten o'clock."
"And you are to wait here until then?"
"Yes."
"What have you had to eat?"
"Some tea, and bread and butter," and she glanced towards a table, onwhich stood a teapot and an empty plate.
"You can't subsist on that," I said quickly.
"More food is to be brought to me by old Taylor at five o'clock."
I glanced at my watch. It was a quarter-past four.
"Why don't you go out and go away?" I suggested. "There is surelynothing to prevent you. Why do you remain here in helpless inactivity?"
"Where should I go? I haven't any money. I haven't a sou. Besides--besides--I dare not disobey. If I did, he--he'd--he'd bring disaster--terrible disaster, upon me!"
"I can lend you some money," I said. Then a thought struck me.
"Why not come away with me?" I exclaimed. "I will get you a room at anhotel, see to you, provide you with money, and take care that nobodyobjectionable--neither this fellow Paulton, nor anybody else--molestsyou."
"Ah, Dick, if only I dared!" she exclaimed fervently, with shining eyes.
"You love me, Vera--do you not?"
"You know that I do, Dick."
"Then leave here. Who is to prevent you? Where are your father andmother?"
She turned sharply.
"How can you ask that?" she cried, with a quick glance. I pulled myselftogether on the instant. I was forgetting to be cautious.
"Wouldn't it be safe for you to appeal to them for help?" I askedvaguely.
She paused, evidently reflecting, and I breathed more freely.
"Under the circumstances--no," she said at last, with decision. "Theymust await developments. I must remain here. Listen! What was that?"And she started in fear.
The door stood ajar. The door of the room I had been in, which openedon to the passage, was also open. Both of us listened intently. Thesound of men's voices, somewhere in the house, became audible.
I crept out into the passage on tiptoe, walked a little distance alongit, stopped, and listened again. Yes, there were voices in the hall.Two men were talking. At once I recognised that Sir Charles Thorold,and the man known as Davies, were engaged in earnest conversation in lowtones. In the otherwise silent and deserted house, their words weredistinctly audible.
"We must get a doctor--we must," I heard the big fellow say deeply. "Ithought at first the fellow was asleep, then that he was drunk. Thepulse is hardly perceptible."
"But how can we?" Thorold answered. "It isn't safe. There would beinquiries, and if he should die there would surely be an inquest, andthen--"
He dropped his voice, and I could not catch the last words. Then Daviesagain spoke.
"I found this umbrella, and these gloves, on the table in his room," Iheard him say, "and there are two tea-cups on the table. Both have beenused, used within the last half-hour, I should say. The tea in them isstill warm, and the teapot is quite hot." My heart stopped its beating.I put out an arm to support myself. A slight feeling of giddiness cameover me. I broke out into a cold perspiration, for I had left my glovesand umbrella in the old man's room!
My mouth turned suddenly dry, as I thought of the tea I had doctoredwith the drops from the flask, of which only a little was needed to send"a strong man to sleep--for ever."
But Davies and Sir Charles were talking again, so I pulled myselftogether.
"How do you account for this umbrella and the gloves?" I heard Daviesask, and Thorold answered: "Let me have a look at them."
They were silent for some moments.
"He has had some one there, that's evident," Sir Charles said. "Who onearth can it have been? This is an expensive umbrella, silk, andgold-mounted, and these gloves, too, are good ones. It's extraordinarytheir owner should have forgotten to take them with him
."
"He may be in the house still," answered Davies. "I hope, for his ownsake, he isn't," Sir Charles said, in a hard voice. "Let us come andhave a look at poor old Taylor. We shall find the keys in his pocket,anyway, and when we have attended to the other matter, we'll go up andsee Vera, and try to bring her to her senses with regard to Paulton.She must do it--hang it--she _must_! I hate the thought of it, but it'smy only chance of escape from this accursed parasite!"
Voices and footsteps died
The Mysterious Three Page 10