there was nothing at all accidental about the matter,and the worst of it was the other knew that he knew it. As for thatother he greatly rejoiced over this discovery, for he owned to himselfthat Melian Seward's personality was almost unique in his experience;and, in short, and done into plain English, he wanted to see her again.As regarded the matter to clear up which he had come there, why it couldgo hang, or if he went on with it at all it would be simply and solelyfor his own satisfaction and in nowise to help Nashby or any of hiskind. As to which he was in nowise bound--for as we have said before,he had come there in the light of an "outside" man, and was responsibleto nobody.
And then, in the light of this newly discovered mutual acquaintance, anew sense of good fellowship, of cordiality seemed to spring up betweenthe two men--likewise the conversation was now transferred to them.Mervyn warmed up with old recollections of places and people; most ofthe former and some of the latter of which were known to his guest, andMelian perforce had to do listener, which she did not in the least mind.It was not until the fading of the afternoon light that Varne suddenlyawoke to the fact that in the capacity of unknown stranger he might havebeen there quite long enough.
"Oh no. Make your mind easy of that head," Mervyn answered, as he saidas much. "Look in again if you're prolonging your stay. Have another`peg' before you start. No? A weed then?"
Helston Varne lighted a cigar, and they went with him as far as thesluice. Mervyn, walking behind, did not fail to observe that this timeno notice was taken of that one stone. The other did not even step onit. This, to his mind, suggested two solutions. Either his guest wasoff the scent, or, in the capacity of a new friend he did not intend tofollow up his investigations. Whichever solution it was that held goodit was equally satisfactory to Mervyn.
"Well, what do you think of that for a specimen?" he said, as Melian andhe turned back to the house.
"He's rather a good sort, and miles out of the ordinary," answered thegirl. "He _can_ talk."
"Yes. You've met your match in that accomplishment, certainly."
"Oh, I didn't mean in that way. I mean he can talk sense. Talk aboutthings, and all that, and it's more than can be said for most people oneruns against. I wonder if he'll come over again."
"I don't."
The dry meaning of the tone, the quizzical look, earned for the speakera playful pinch on the arm.
"Don't be prophetic, Uncle Seward, especially with regard to a perfectstranger."
"Perfect--eh? H'm--ha! Still I think we haven't seen the last of--Perfection. Good name that. Meanwhile, I shall have to find outsomething about him over and above his relationship with my old palVarne Coates, before asking his intentions."
This earned for the speaker another pinch--a harder one this time, andthe chaff and raillery flowed on. And John Seward Mervyn was consciousof feeling very happy, very contented. This element of youthfulness andbright spirits was just that in which his solitary life had beenlacking. Then it had been supplied; and again and again, every hour oflate he had blessed the chance which had supplied it.
But with this complacent consciousness, there was this evening ever soslight a misgiving, and--while he candidly owned to himself his motivewas a selfish one--he hoped their newly found acquaintance would, forany reason or none, come no more.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
OF SOME TALK ON A ROAD.
The year had dawned more and more into daylight if not correspondinglyinto warmth, and for Melian life had become more of a settled thing atHeath Hover. So far she was content, but a dreadful suspicion wascoming upon her that she might not be always content. She had a sort ofinstinctive longing for work again, and that for its own sake--to bedoing. And in this quiet, rather lonely life, there was no scope forsuch.
She had no friends of her own age or sex. Two or three of both hadcalled, on learning of her presence at Heath Hover, but with the bestintentions there was nothing about them to appeal to the girl from anypoint of view. They were just well-meaning, commonplace people of themost ordinary and commonplace type.
To a certain extent--a large extent--her uncle made up for the want ofsuch companionship. He was a companionable man, given intelligent andsympathetic company, and this he found to the full in her. There washardly a subject under the sun that they did not thresh out together,and grim old haunted Heath Hover seemed to shake its dry bones into newlife with the constant stream of talk and laughter which now echoed fromits walls.
"Why, you've put back the clock a quarter of a century for me, dear," hedeclared. "I feel that much younger. Isn't that something for you tohave done?"
And she had agreed, wholesouledly; and yet, there would obtrude thatthought, of late, that she was doing nothing with her life.
By this time her uncle had come to regard her with a sort of idolatry.His capacity for affection had become utterly atrophied for want of anobject upon which to expend any of it. Such few acquaintances orrelatives as he had he cared nothing about. If he had been well offthey would have discovered fast enough that they cared about him, heused to tell himself cynically; and who shall say untruly. He hadbecome self-centred, even morose at times--just content to groove onthrough life to the end; thankful--if he ever thought of being thankfulfor anything at all--that there was nobody to worry him. He had allowedhimself to be worried at times in his life, and looked back to suchtimes with a mental shudder, which was when the spirit of thankfulnesswas evolved.
But now here was such an object, and it had promptly captured the wholeof his capacity for affection and was expanding it every day. There waseverything in it that appealed--the sweet, refined beauty of the child,the sunny lightheadedness, the naive untrammelled appreciation of allthat appealed to him--the sheer youthful enjoyment of life--well, he hadnot lived in vain. And he made an idol of her more and more every day.
So they rambled together, drove long drives together, talked together;indeed, not a wish of hers was left ungratified where it lay within hispower to gratify it, and she, knowing the extent of such power, neverdreamed of looking beyond it. And the curious part it of was that he,watching her with furtive and solicitous jealousy, found that she was byno means tiring of this mode of life.
Once or twice he had suggested she should ask some girl friend to comeand pay her a visit, as a relief from one incessant old fogey, but shehad not been in the least responsive. There was no such "relief"required, she had answered spontaneously. She was quite happy as theywere. She would like to get Violet Clinock, when the latter could come,but that would not be yet. Meanwhile she was quite jolly as they were.
To Mervyn this reply came with an undashed feeling of relief. Stay--notaltogether undashed perhaps, for he was old enough to know that a yearor two at the outside in the ordinary course of things would be all thatshould remain to him of this idyllic time. Why, only to look at thechild! Were all the best years of her life to be wasted, mewed up in alonely old country corner! And with this idea came one that had justhooked itself, not altogether pleasantly, on to his mind--and it speltHelston Varne.
For the latter had availed himself of his invitation to "come again."He had "come again," only to the extent of three times, but Mervyn hadnot been slow to mark a certain very complete sympathy, as of ideas incommon, that had sprung up between him and Melian, and that from thevery first. They talked animatedly on every subject, several outsidehis own sphere of knowledge, and in short, seemed thoroughly to havetaken to each other. And Helston Varne was a remarkably fine lookingman.
Mervyn had set afoot enquiries with regard to Helston Varne, and in theresult had elicited that whatever line the latter was pursuing at thepresent moment--and he very much more than supposed the nature of thatline--at any rate he was not dependent upon its results in any way. Hewas, in fact, well off--almost wealthy. The inducement to take it up atall was probably the sheer sporting instinct. So far, this conclusionwas, from a certain point of view, satisfactory. And Helston Varne wasa near relation of his old and intimate fr
iend, Varne Coates ofBaghnagar.
Personally, he liked the man. John Seward Mervyn was a shrewd, keenjudge of character, and studying this one closely, his verdict was"quite all right." He noted too with a modicum of dry amusement thatthe "investigation" element was entirely absent during his subsequentvisits. Incidentally, what Inspector Nashby thought of it was quiteanother matter, as to which Mervyn did not give two thoughts. And afterthose three visits, Helston Varne had left the neighbourhood, now somethree weeks ago.
This afternoon, Melian was walking up the hilly road in the direction ofthat which, crossing it at right angles, led to the hamlet of LowerGidding. There was a sharp north easterly wind blowing, which broughtthe colour to her cheeks, tingeing them with the glow of health, andlending an unusually clear brightness to the blue eyes. She revelled inthe
The Heath Hover Mystery Page 24