CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.
"What are you going to do, James, dear?" said Mrs Wilton.
"Eh?"
"What are you going to do, dear? Oh, you don't know what a relief it isto me. I was going to beg you to have the pike pond dragged."
James Wilton's strong desire was to do nothing, and give his son plentyof time; but there was a Mrs Grundy even at Northwood, and she had tobe studied.
"Do? Errum!" He cleared his throat with a long imposing, rollingsound. "Well, search must be made for them directly, and they must bebrought back. It is disgraceful I did mean to sit down and do nothing,but it will not do. I am very angry and indignant with them both, forKate is as bad as Claud. It must not be said that we connived at the--the--the--what's the word?--escapade."
"Of course not, my dear; and it is such a pity. Such a nice wedding asshe might have had, and made it a regular `at home,' to pay off all thepeople round I'd quite made up my mind about my dress."
"Oh, I'm glad of that," said Wilton, with a grim smile. "Nothing likebeing well prepared for the future. Have you quite made up your mindabout your dress when I pop off? Crape, of course?"
"James, my darling, you shouldn't. How can you say such dreadfulthings?"
"You make me--being such a fool."
"James!"
"Hold your tongue, do. Yes, I must have inquiries made."
"But do you feel quite sure that they have eloped like that?"
"Oh, yes," he said, thoughtfully; "there's no doubt about it."
"I don't know, my dear," said Mrs Wilton, plaintively. "It seems sostrange, when she was so ill and in such trouble."
"Bah! Sham! Like all women, kicking up a row about the first kiss, andwanting it all the time."
"James, my dear, you shouldn't say such things. It was no sham. Shewas in dreadful trouble, I'm sure, and I cannot help thinking about thepike pond. It haunts me--it does indeed. Don't you think that in heragony she may have gone and drowned herself?"
"Yes, that's it," said Wilton, with a scowl at his wife.
"Oh! Horrible! I was having dreadful dreams all last night. You dothink so, then?"
"Yes, you've hit it now, old lady. She must have jumped down from herwindow on to the soft flower-bed, and then gone and fetched the ladder,and put it up there, and afterwards gone and called Claud to come downand go hand in hand with her, so as to have company."
"Jumped down--the ladder--what did she want a ladder for, James, dear?"
"What do people want ladders for? Why, to come down by."
"But she was down, dear. I--I really don't know what you mean. Youconfuse me so. But, oh, James, dear, you don't mean that about Claud?"
"Why not? Depend upon it, they're at the bottom of that hole where thepig was drowned, and the pike are eating bits out of them."
"James!--Oh, what a shame! You're laughing at me."
"Laughing at you? You'd make a horse laugh at you. Such idiocy. Bequiet if you can. Don't you see how worried and busy I am? And lookhere--if anyone calls out of curiosity, you don't know anything. Refer'em to me."
"Yes, my dear. But really it is very shocking of the young people.It's almost immoral. But you think they will get married directly?"
"Trust Claud for that. Fancy the jade going off in that way. Ah,they're all alike."
"No, James; I would sooner have died than consented to such aproceeding."
"Not you. Now be quiet."
"Going out, dear?"
"Only round the house for a few minutes. By the way, have you examinedEliza--asked her what Kate has taken with her?"
"Yes, dear. Nothing at all but her hat, scarf, and cloak. Such ashabby way of getting married."
"Never mind that," said Wilton; and he went into the hall, through theporch and on to the place where the ladder had been found.
There was little to find there but the deep impressions made by theheels, except that a man's footprints were plainly to be seen; andWilton returned to his wife, rang the bell, and assuming his mostjudicial air waited.
"Send Miss Kate's maid here," he said, sternly.
"Yes, sir."
"Stop. Look here, Samuel, you are my servant, and I call upon you tospeak the whole truth to me about this matter, one which, on furtherthought, I feel it to be my duty to investigate. Now, tell me, did youknow anything about this proceeding on Mr Claud's part?"
"No, sir; 'strue as goodness, I didn't."
"Mr Claud did not speak to you about it?"
"No, sir."
"Didn't you see him last night?"
"No, sir; I went up to his room to fetch his boots to bring down anddry, but the door was locked, but when I knocked and asked for them hedid say something then."
"Yes, what did he say?"
Samuel glanced at his mistress and hesitated.
"Don't look at me, Samuel," said Mrs Wilton; "speak the whole truth."
"Yes; what did he say?" cried Wilton, sternly.
"Well, sir, he told me to go to the devil."
Wilton coughed.
"That will do. Go and fetch Miss Wilton's maid."
Eliza came, looking red-eyed and pale, but she could give noinformation, only assure them that she did not understand it, but wascertain something must be wrong, for Miss Kate would never have takensuch a step without consulting her.
And so on, and so on. A regular examination of the servants remainingfollowed in quite a judicial manner, and once more Kate's aunt and unclewere alone.
"There," he said; "I think I have done my duty, my dear. Perhaps,though, I ought to drive over to the station and make inquiries there;but I don't see what good it would do. I could only at the most findout that they had gone to London."
"Don't you think, dear, that you ought to communicate with the police?"
"No; what for?"
"To trace them, dear. The police are so clever; they would be sure tofind them out."
Wilton coughed.
"Perhaps we had better wait, my dear. I fully anticipate that they willcome back to-night--or to-morrow morning, full of repentance to ask ourforgiveness; and er--I suppose we shall have to look over it."
"Well, yes, my dear," said Mrs Wilton. "What's done can't be undone;but I'm sure I don't know what people will say."
"I shall be very stern with Claud, though, for it is a most disgracefulact. I wonder at Kate."
"Well, I did, my dear, till I began to think, and then I did not; forClaud has such a masterful way with him. He was always too much forme."
"Yes," said Wilton dryly; "always. Well, we had better wait and see ifthey come back."
"I am terribly disappointed, though, my dear, for we could have had sucha grand wedding. To go off like that and get married, just like afootman and housemaid. Don't you remember James and Sarah?"
"Bah! No, I don't remember James and Sarah," said Wilton irascibly.
"Yes, you do, my dear. It's just ten years ago, and you must rememberabout them both wanting a holiday on the same day, and coming back atnight, and Sarah saying so demurely: `Please, ma'am, we've beenmarried.'"
Wilton twisted his chair round and kicked a piece of coal on the top ofthe fire which required breaking.
"James, my dear, you shouldn't do that," said his wife, reprovingly."You're as bad as Claud, only he always does it with his heel. There isa poker, my dear."
"I thought you always wanted it kept bright."
"Well, it does look better so, dear. But I do hope going off in thenight like that won't give Kate a cold."
Wilton ground his teeth and was about to burst into a furious fit ofanger against his wife's tongue, but matters seemed to have taken sosatisfactory a turn since the previous day that the bite was wanting,and he planted his heels on the great hob, warmed himself, and startedinvoluntarily as he saw in the future mortgages, first, second andthird, paid off, and himself free from the meshes which he gave Garstangthe credit of having spun round him. As for Claud, he could, he fel
t,mould him like wax. So long as he had some ready money to spend hewould be quiet enough, and, of course, it was all for his benefit, forhe would succeed to the unencumbered estates.
Altogether the future looked so rosy that Wilton chuckled at the glowingfire and rubbed his hands, without noticing that the fire dogs weregrinning at him like a pair of malignant brazen imps; and just then MrsWilton let her work fall into her lap and gave vent to a merry laugh.
"What now?" said Wilton, facing round sharply. "Don't do that. Supposeone of the servants came in and saw you grinning. Just recollect thatwe are in great trouble and anxiety about this--this--what you may callit--escapade."
"Yes, dear; I forgot. But it does seem so funny."
"Didn't seem very funny last night."
"No, dear, of course not; and I never could have thought our troubleswould come right so soon. But only think of it; those two coming backtogether, and Kate not having changed her name. There won't be a thingin her linen that will want marking again."
"Bah!" growled Wilton. "Yes, what is it?" he cried, as the footmanappeared.
"Beg pardon, sir, but Tom Jonson had to go to the village shop for someharness paste, and it's all over the place."
"Oh, is it?" growled Wilton. "Of course, if Mr Tom Jonson goes out onpurpose to spread it."
"I don't think he said a word, sir, but they were talking about it atthe shop, and young Barker saw 'em last."
"Barker--Barker? Not--"
"Yes, sir, him as you give a month to for stealing pheasants' eggs.That loafing chap."
"He saw them last night? Here, go and tell Smith to fetch him herebefore me."
Samuel smiled.
"Do you hear, sir? Don't stand grinning there."
"No, sir; certainly not, sir," said the man, "but Tom Jonson thoughtyou'd like to see him, sir, and he collared him at once and brought himon."
"Quite right. Bring him in at once. Stop a moment. Put two or three`Statutes at Large' and `Burns' Justice of the Peace' on the table."
The man hurriedly gave the side-table a magisterial look with four orfire pie-crust coloured quartos and a couple of bulky manuals, whileWilton turned to his wife.
"Here, Maria," he growled, in a low tone; "you'd better be off."
"Oh, don't send me away, please, dear," she whispered; "it isn't one ofthose horrid cases you have sometimes, and I do so want to hear."
"Very well; only don't speak."
"No, my dear, not a word," whispered Mrs Wilton, and she half closedher eyes and pinched her lips together, but her ears twitched as she satwaiting anxiously for the return of the footman, followed by the groom,who seemed to have had no little trouble in pushing and dragging arough-looking lout of about eighteen into the room, where he stood withhis smock frock raised on each side so as to allow his hands to bethrust deeply into his trousers pockets.
"Take your hat off," said Samuel, in a sharp whisper.
"Sheeawn't!" said the fellow, defiantly. "I arn't done nothin'."
Samuel promptly knocked the hat off on to the floor, which necessitateda hand being taken slowly from a pocket to pick it up.
"Here, don't you do that ag'in," cried the lad.
"Silence, sir. Stand up," cried Wilton.
"Mayn't I pick up my hat? I arn't done nothin'."
"Say `sir'," whispered the footman.
"Sheeawn't. I arn't done nothin', I tell yer. No business to bring mehere."
"Silence, sir," cried Wilton, taking up a pen and shaking it at the lad,which acted upon him as if it were some terrible judicial wand whichmight write a document consigning him to hard labour, skilly, and breadand water in the county jail. The consequence being that he stood withhis head bent forward, brow one mass of wrinkles, and mouth partly open,staring at the fierce-looking justice of the peace.
"Listen to me: you are not brought here for punishment."
"Well, I arn't done nothin'," said the lad.
"I am glad to hear it, and I hope you will improve, Barker. Now, whatyou have to do is to answer a few questions, and if you do so truthfullyand well, you will be rewarded."
"Beer?" said the lout, with a grin.
"My servant will give you some beer as you go out, but first of all Ishall give you a shilling."
The fellow grinned.
"Shall I get the book and swear him, sir?" said Samuel, who was used tothe library being turned into a court for petty cases.
"There is no need," said Wilton austerely. "Now, my lad, answer me."
"Yes, I sin 'em both last night."
"Saw whom?"
"Young Squire and his gal."
"Young Squire" made Mrs Wilton smile; "his gal" seemed to set her teethon edge.
"Humph! Are you sure?" said Wilton.
"Sewer? Ay, I know young Squire well enough. Hit me many a time.Haw-haw! Know young Squire--I should think I do!"
"Say `sir,'" whispered Samuel again.
"Sheeawn't," cried the fellow. "You mind your own business."
"Attend to me, sir," cried Wilton, in his sternest bench manner.
"Well, I am a-try'n' to, master, on'y he keeps on kedgin' me."
"Where did you see my son and--er--the lady?"
"Where did I sin 'em? Up road."
"Where were you?"
"Ahint the hedge."
"And what were you doing behind the hedge--wiring?"
"Naw. On'y got me bat-fowling nets."
"But you were hiding, sir?"
"Well, what o' that? 'Bliged to hide. Can't go out anywhere o' nightsnow wi'out summun watching yer. Can't go for a few sparrers but some on'em says its pardridges."
"What time was it?"
"Hey?"
"What time was it?"
"I d'know; nine or ten, or 'leven. Twelve, may-be."
"Well?"
"Hey?"
"What then?"
"What then? Nothin' as I knows on. Yes, there weer; he puts his armround her waist, and she give him a dowse in the faace."
"Humph! Which way did they go then?"
"Up road."
"Did you follow them?"
"What'd I got to follow 'em for? Shouldn't want nobody to follow mewhen I went out wi' a gal."
Wilton frowned.
"Did you see any carriage about, waiting?"
"Naw."
"What did you do then?"
"Waited till they was out o' sight."
"Yes, and what then?"
"Ketched sparrers, and they arn't game."
The lout looked round, grinning at all present, as if he had posed themagistrate in whose presence he was standing, till his eyes lit on MrsWilton, who was listening to him intently, and to her he raised hishand, passing the open palm upward past his face till it was as high ashe could reach, and then descending the arc of a circle, a movementsupposed in rustic schools to represent a most respectful bow.
"Ah, Barker, Barker!" said the recipient, shaking her head at him; "younever come to the Sunday school now."
"Grow'd too big, missus," said the lad, grinning, and then noisily usinghis cuff for the pocket-handkerchief he lacked.
"We are never too big to learn to be good, Barker," continued MrsWilton, "and I'm afraid you are growing a bad boy now."
"Oh, I don't know, missus; I shouldn't be a bad 'un if there was nogame."
"That will do, that will do," said the Squire, impatiently. "That's allyou know, then, sir?"
"Oh, no; I knows a lot more than that," said the lad, grinning.
"Then why the deuce don't you speak?"
"What say?"
"Tell me what more you know about Mr Claud and the lady, and I'll giveyou another shilling."
"Will yer?" cried the lad, eagerly. "Well, I've seed'd 'em five or sixtimes afore going along by the copse and down the narrow lane, and I sinhim put his arm round her oncet, and I was close by, lying clost to arabbud hole; and she says, `How dare you, sir! how dare you!' just likethat I dunno any more, and that makes two shilli
n'."
"There; be off. Take him away, Samuel, and give him a horn of beer."
"Yes sir--Now, then, come on."
But the lad stood and grinned, first at the Squire and then at MrsWilton, rubbing his hands down his sides the while.
"D'yer hear?" whispered the footman, as the groom opened the door."Come on."
"Sheeawn't."
"Come on. Beer."
"But he arn't give me the two shillings yet."
"Eh? Oh, forgot," said the Squire.
"Gahn. None o' your games. Couldn't ha' forgetted it so soon."
"There--Take him away."
Wilton held out a couple of shillings, and the fellow snatched them, bitboth between his big white teeth, stuffed one in each pocket, made MrsWilton another bow, and turned to go; but his wardrobe had been sadlyneglected, and at the first step one of the shillings trickled down theleg of his trousers, escaped the opening into his ill-laced boot,rattled on the polished oaken floor, and then ran along, after thefashion of coins, to hide itself in the darkest corner of the room. ButBarker was too sharp for it, and forgetting entirely the lessons he hadlearned at school about ordering "himself lowly and reverently to allhis betters," he shouted: "Loo, loo, loo!" pounced upon it like a catdoes upon a mouse, picked it up, and thrust it where it could join itsfellow, and turned to Mrs Wilton.
"Hole in the pocket," he said, confidentially, and went off to get thebeer.
"Bah! Savage!" growled Wilton, as the door closed. "There, Maria, nodoubt about it now."
"No, my dear, and we can sleep in peace."
But Mrs Wilton was wrong save and except the little nap she had afterdinner while her husband was smoking his pipe; for that night, justbefore the last light was out--that last light being in the Squire'sroom where certain arrangements connected with hair and pieces of paperhad detained Mrs Wilton nearly half an hour after her husband hadannounced in regular cadence that he was fast asleep--there came a longringing at the hall door bell.
It was so utterly unexpected in the silence and solitude of the countryplace that Mrs Wilton sprang from her seat in front of thedressing-glass, jarring the table so that a scent-bottle fell with acrash, and injuring her knees.
"James--James!" she cried.
"Eh, what's the matter?" came from the bed, as the Squire sat upsuddenly.
"Fire! Fire! Another stack burning, I'm sure."
Wilton sprang out of bed, ran to the window, tore aside the blind, flungopen the casement, and looked down.
"Where is it?" he shouted, for he had more than once been summoned fromhis bed to rick fires.
"Where's what?" came in a familiar voice.
Wilton darted back, letting fall the blind.
"Slip on your dressing gown," he said, hastily, "and pull out thoseconfounded things from your hair. They've come back."
"Oh, my dear, and me this figure!" cried the lady, and for the next tenminutes there was a hurried sound of dressing going on.
"Look sharp," said Wilton. "I'll go down and let them in. You'd betterrouse up Cook and Samuel; they'll want something to eat."
"I won't be two minutes, my dear. Take them in the library; the woodashes will soon glow up again. My own darlings! I am glad."
Mrs Wilton was less, for by the time the heavy bolts, lock, and bar hadbeen undone, she was out of her room, and hurried to the balustrade tolook down into the hall, paying no heed to the cool puff of wind thatrushed upward and nearly extinguished the candle her husband had setdown upon the marble table.
"My own boy!" she sighed, as she saw Claud enter, and heard his words.
"Thankye," he said. "Gone to bed soon."
"The usual time, my boy," said Wilton, in very different tones to thosehe had used at their last meeting. "But haven't you brought her?"
"Brought her?"
"Yes; where's Kate?"
"Fast asleep in bed by now, I suppose," said the young man sulkily.
"Oh, but you should have brought her. Where have you come from?"
"Fast train down. London. Didn't suppose I was going to stop here, didyou, to be kicked?"
"Don't say any more about that, my boy. It's all over now; but whydidn't you bring her down?"
"Oh, Claud, my boy, you shouldn't have left her like that."
"Brought her down--Kate--shouldn't have left," said the young man,excitedly. "Here, what do you both mean?"
"There, nonsense; what is the use of dissimulation now, my boy," saidWilton. "Of course we know, and--there--it's of no use to cry overspilt milk. We did not like it, and you shouldn't have both tried tothrow dust in our eyes."
"Look here, guv'nor, have you been to a dinner anywhere to-night?"
"Absurd, sir. Stop this fooling. Where did you leave Kate?"
"In bed and asleep, I suppose."
"But--but where have you been, then?"
"London, I tell you. Shouldn't have been back now, only I couldn't findHarry Dasent. He's off somewhere, so I thought I'd better come back. Isay, is she all right again?"
"I knew it! I knew it!" shrieked Mrs Wilton. "I said it from thefirst. Oh, James, James!--The pond--the pond! She's gone--she's gone!"
"Who's gone?" stammered Claud, looking from father to mother, and backagain.
"Kate, dear; drowned--drowned," wailed Mrs Wilton.
"What!" shouted Claud.
"Look here, sir," said his father, catching him by the arm in atremendous grip, as he raised the candle to gaze searchingly in hisson's face; "let's have the truth at once. You're playing some game ofyour own to hide this--this escapade."
"Guv'nor!" cried the young man, catching his father by the arm in turn;"put down that cursed candle; you'll burn my face. You don't mean tosay the little thing has cut?"
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