The Third Volume

by Fergus Hume

  CHAPTER VII.

  "LET SLEEPING DOGS LIE."

  ON the journey of life we sometimes come to a dead stop. Obstacles arisewhich bar our further progress, and circumstances, impossible to do awaywith, confront us on all sides. We cannot go back, for in life there isno retrogression; we cannot proceed, owing to blocked paths, and sostand hopeless and powerless, waiting for the word or action of Fate.She, unseen but almighty deity, alone can remove the hindrance whichprevents our progress, and until she speaks or acts, we can do nothingbut wait. It is on such occasions that we feel how truly we are thepuppets of some unknown power.

  Francis Hilliston had arrived at some such stoppage. Hitherto his keenbrain, his strong will, his capability for decisive action, had carriedhim onward from past to present, through present to future. Whenobstacles had arisen they had been easily swept away, and with his ownlife in his hands, he was perfectly satisfied of his power to mold it tohis liking. Possibly Fate, who is a somewhat jealous deity, felt angeredat the egotistic self-reliance of the man; for without warning shebrought him to a dead stop, then grimly waited to see how his boastedcunning would outwit her. As she probably foresaw, the man did nothingbut await her decision. It was the only thing he could do.

  For five-and-twenty years the Horriston tragedy had been unmentioned,unthought of; Hilliston deemed that it was relegated to the category ofunknown crimes, and having in mind his friendship for the parents, andhis love for the son, was not unwilling that it should be so. He did notwish Claude to know of the matter, he was not desirous that he shouldcome in contact with Mrs. Bezel; and hitherto had managed so well thatneither contingency had eventuated. Congratulating himself on hisdexterity, he remained lulled in fancied security, when Fate, observantof his complacency, sent a bolt from the blue, and brought him up short.Now, Hilliston, forced by circumstances to tell the truth to Larcher,did not know what to do. He could only wait for the fiat of the higherpower.

  Grimly satisfied that she had brought home his fault, and had shown himhis moral weakness, Fate made the next move, and sent Larcher and hisfriend to Lincoln's Inn Fields to again set Hilliston on his formerjourney. The paralysis of will which had seized the elder man did notextend to the younger; for Claude arrived full of anxiety to begin thesearch for the undiscovered criminal. The first result of his compactwith Tait was this visit to the lawyer.

  "Claude Larcher; Spenser Tait," muttered Hilliston, glancing at thecards brought in by his clerk. "I thought as much; the matter is out ofmy hands now. Show the gentlemen in," he added sharply.

  The clerk departed, and Hilliston walked quickly to the window, where hestood biting his nails. All geniality had vanished from his face; helooked older than his years, and an unaccustomed frown wrinkled hisexpansive forehead. A crisis had come which he knew not how to meet; so,after the fashion of men when they feel thus helpless, he left thedecision in the hands of Fate. Which was precisely what Fate wanted.

  "Good-morning, Claude! Good-morning, Mr. Tait!" said Hilliston,welcoming the young men with artificial enthusiasm. "I expected to seeyou today."

  "Surely you did not expect to see me?" said Tait, in a silky tone, as heplaced his hat on the table.

  "Indeed, I did! Where Damon is Phintias is sure to be. That Claude'sperusal of those papers would result in your accompanying him to thisoffice, I felt sure. I was right. Here you are!"

  Mr. Hilliston affected a cheerfulness he was far from feeling. Withincreasing age a distaste had come for violent excitements, and with oneof Claude's temperament he knew that the chances were that the ensuingquarter of an hour would be somewhat stirring. Contrary to hisexpectations, however, Larcher was eager, but calm, and Hilliston,assuring himself that the calmness was genuine, began to hope that theinterview would pass off better than he expected. Still, none of us liketo reopen a disagreeable chapter of the book of life, and this Mr.Hilliston, against his will and inclination, was about to do.

  "Well, sir," said Claude, when they were all seated, and the hush ofexpectancy was in the air, "I have read those papers."

  "Yes," said Mr. Hilliston interrogatively; "and what do you think of thematter?"

  "I think it is a very black case."

  "You are quite right, Claude. It is a very black case indeed. I did allin my power to bring the criminal to justice, but without success."

  "Who is the criminal?" asked Larcher, with a keen glance at hisguardian.

  Hilliston shuffled his feet uneasily, by no means relishing thedirectness of the question.

  "That is a difficult question to answer," he said slowly; "in fact animpossible one. My suspicions point to Jeringham."

  From this point Tait made a third in the conversation.

  "That is because Jeringham disappeared on the night of the murder," hesaid leisurely.

  "Yes. I think that circumstance alone is very suspicious."

  "He was never found again?"

  "Never. We advertised in all the papers; we employed detectives,inquired privately, but all to no result. The last person who sawJeringham was Mrs. Larcher. He parted from her at the door of TheLaurels, and vanished into the night. It still hides him."

  "What do you conclude from that, sir?" asked Claude, after a pause.

  "I can only conclude one thing," replied Hilliston, with greatdeliberation, "that your father, suspicious of Jeringham, returned onthat night from London, and saw the parting. The result is not difficultto foresee. It is my own opinion that there were words between the men,possibly a struggle, and that the matter ended in the murder of yourfather by Jeringham. Hence the discovery of the body thrown into theriver, hence the flight of the murderer."

  "Was this the generally received opinion at the time?"

  "Yes. I can safely say that it was believed Jeringham was guilty, andhad fled to escape the consequences of his crime."

  "In that case, how was it that Mrs. Larcher was arrested?" asked Taitskeptically.

  "You cannot have read the case carefully, to ask me that," repliedHilliston sharply. "She was arrested on the evidence of the dagger.Without doubt the crime was committed with the dagger, and as she hadworn it, the inference was drawn that she was the guilty person. But shewas acquitted, and left the court--as the saying is--without a stain onher character."

  "Nevertheless she died, Mr. Hilliston."

  "Shame killed her," said the lawyer sadly. "She was a foolish woman inmany ways,--your pardon, Claude, for so speaking,--but she was not thewoman to commit so foul a crime. Indeed, I believe she was fondlyattached to her husband till Jeringham came between them."

  "Ah!" interposed Tait composedly, "that is John Parver's view."

  "John Parver?" repeated Hilliston, with well-bred surprise. "I do notknow that name in connection with the case."

  "Nor do we know the name of Mrs. Bezel," said Claude quickly.

  Hilliston started, and looked at Claude as though he would read his verysoul. The inscrutability of the young man's countenance baffled him, andhe turned off the remark with a dry laugh.

  "With Mrs. Bezel we will deal hereafter," he said shortly; "but who isthis John Parver!"

  "He is the author of a book called 'A Whim of Fate.'"

  "A novel?"

  "Yes. A novel which embodies the whole of this case."

  "That is strange," said Hilliston quietly, "but no doubt the author hascome across the details in some old provincial journal, and made use ofthem. The Larcher affair caused a great deal of talk at the time, but itis certainly remarkable that a novelist should have made use of it forfictional purposes after the lapse of so many years. I must read thebook. Just note the name of it here, Mr. Tait, if you please."

  Tait did so, and Hilliston continued:

  "Is my character in the book?"

  "I think so. Under the name of Michael Dene!"

  "I trust the author has been flattering to me. By the way, who does hesay committed the crime?"

  "Michael Dene."

  Hilli
ston went gray on the instant, as though a sudden blow had beenstruck at his heart. Two pairs of keen eyes were fixed on his face withsome surprise, and uneasy at the scrutiny, he strove to recover hiscomposure.

  "Upon my word," he said, with quivering lips, "I am infinitely obligedto John Parver for describing me as a murderer. And what motive does heascribe to me, or rather to Michael Dene, for the committal of thecrime?"

  "Love for the wife," said Tait, smiling.

  "Eh! That is rather the role of Jeringham, I should say," repliedHilliston, the color coming back to lips and cheek. "I must read thisnovel, and if possible discover the identity of the author."

  "Oh, we will do that!"

  "Claude!" cried the lawyer, in astonishment.

  "I and Tait. We intend to follow out this case to the end."

  "It is useless! Five-and-twenty years have elapsed."

  "Nevertheless, I am determined to hunt down the murderer of my father,"said Claude decisively. "Besides, we have two eye-witnesses to thetragedy. Yourself and Mrs. Bezel."

  "Ah! Mrs. Bezel! I forgot her. Certainly, I will do all in my power tohelp you, Claude. Your father was my dearest friend, and I shall only betoo glad to avenge his fate. But if I could not do it at the moment, howcan I hope to do so now--after so long a period has elapsed?"

  "Leave that to us, sir. Tait and I will attend to the active part of thebusiness. All we ask you to do is to give us such information as lies inyour power."

  "I will do that with pleasure," said Hilliston, who by this time wasthoroughly master of himself. "What is it you wish to know."

  "We wish to know all about Mrs. Bezel. Who is she? What has she to dowith the case? Why is not her name mentioned in these pages?"

  "For answers to these questions you had better apply to the ladyherself. You have her address. Why not call on her?"

  "I intend to do so to-morrow."

  The old man rose from his seat, and took a turn up and down the room.Then he paused beside Claude, and laid a trembling hand on the youngman's shoulder.

  "I have been a good friend to you, Claude."

  "You have been my second father--my real father," said Larcher gently."I shall never forget your kindness. I would return it if I could."

  "Then do so, by letting sleeping dogs lie."

  "What do you mean by that, Mr. Hilliston?" asked the other, with asubtle change in his tone.

  "Abandon this case. Do not call on Mrs. Bezel. You can do no good byreopening the affair. It was a mystery years ago, it is a mystery still;it will remain a mystery till the end of time."

  "Not if I can help it. I am sorry to disoblige you, sir, but my mind ismade up. I am determined to find out the truth."

  Hilliston sighed, passed his hand across his forehead, and returned tohis seat, hopeless and baffled. He was sufficiently acquainted withClaude's character to know that he was not easily turned from hispurpose, and that his resolution to solve the mystery would beresolutely carried out. Yet he made one more attempt to bend the youngman to his will.

  "If you are wise you will not call on Mrs. Bezel."

  "Why not, sir?"

  "It will give you great pain."

  "All my pain is past," replied Claude quickly. "I can suffer no morethan I did when reading these papers. I must call on Mrs. Bezel; I mustknow the truth, and," added he significantly, "I have your promise toassist me."

  "I will do all in my power," answered Hilliston wearily, "but you do notknow what are you doing. I am older and more experienced than you, and Igive you my best advice. Do not see Mrs. Bezel, and leave the Larcheraffair alone."

  The result of this well-meant advice was that Claude called the nextmorning on Mrs. Bezel.