CHAPTER XIX
THE STEAM YACHT
Copplestone had seen and learned enough of Audrey Greyle during his briefstay at Scarhaven to make him assured that she would not have sent forhim save for very good and grave reasons. It had been with manifestreluctance that she had given him her promise to do so: her entirebehaviour during the conference with Mr. Dennie and Gilling had convincedhim that she had an inherent distaste for publicity and an instinctiverepugnance to calling in the aid of strangers. He had never expected thatshe would send for him--he himself knew that he should go back to her,but the return would be on his own initiative. There, however, was hersummons, definite as it was brief. He was wanted--and by her. And withoutopening one of his letters, he snatched up the whole pile, thrust it intohis pocket, hurriedly made some preparation for his journey and raced offto King's Cross.
He fumed and fretted with impatience during the six hours' journey downto Norcaster. It was ten o'clock when he arrived there, and as he knewthat the last train to Scarhaven left at half-past-nine he hurried to geta fast motor-car that would take him over the last twenty miles of hisjourney. He had wired to Audrey from Peterborough, telling her that hewas on his way and should motor out from Norcaster, and when he hadfound a car to his liking he ordered its driver to go straight to Mrs.Greyle's cottage, close by Scarhaven church. And just then he heard avoice calling his name, and turning saw, running out of the station, ayoung, athletic-looking man, much wrapped and cloaked, who waved a handat him and whose face he had some dim notion of having seen before.
"Mr. Copplestone?" panted the new arrival, coming up hurriedly. "I almostmissed you--I got on the wrong platform to meet your train. You don'tknow me, though you may have seen me at the inquest on Mr. Bassett Oliverthe other day--my name's Vickers--Guy Vickers."
"Yes?" said Copplestone. "And--"
"I'm a solicitor, here in Norcaster," answered Vickers. "I--at least, myfirm, you know--we sometimes act for Mrs. Greyle at Scarhaven. I got awire from Miss Greyle late this evening, asking me to meet you here whenthe London train got in and to go on to Scarhaven with you at once. Sheadded the words _urgent business_ so--"
"Then in heaven's name, let's be off!" exclaimed Copplestone. "It'll takeus a good hour and a quarter as it is. Of course," he went on, as theymoved away through the Norcaster streets, "of course, you haven't anynotion of what this urgent business is?"
"None whatever!" replied Vickers. "But I'm quite sure that it is urgent,or Miss Greyle wouldn't have said so. No--I don't know what her exactmeaning was, but of course, I know there's something wrong about thewhole thing at Scarhaven--seriously wrong!"
"You do, eh?" exclaimed Copplestone. "What now?"
"Ah, that I don't know!" replied Vickers, with a dry laugh. "I wish Idid. But--you know how people talk in these provincial places--ever sincethat inquest there have been all sorts of rumours. Every club and publicplace in Norcaster has been full of talk--gossip, surmise, speculation.Naturally!"
"But--about what?" asked Copplestone.
"Squire Greyle, of course," said the young solicitor; "that inquest wasenough to set the whole country talking. Everybody thinks--they couldn'tthink otherwise--that something is being hushed up. Everybody's agog toknow if Sir Cresswell Oliver and Mr. Petherton are applying for are-opening of the inquest. You've just come from town, I believe! Did youhear anything?"
Copplestone was wondering whether he ought to tell his companion of hisown recent discoveries. Like all laymen, he had an idea that you can tellanything to a lawyer, and he was half-minded to pour out the whole storyto Vickers, especially as he was Mrs. Greyle's solicitor. But on secondthoughts he decided to wait until he had ascertained the state of affairsat Scarhaven.
"I didn't hear anything about that," he replied. "Of course, that inquestwas a mere travesty of what such an inquiry should have been."
"Oh, an utter farce!" agreed Vickers. "However, it produced just theopposite effect to that which the wire-pullers wanted. Of course,Chatfield had squared that jury! But he forgot the press--and the localreporters were so glad to get hold of what was really spicy news that allthe Norcaster and Northborough papers have been full of it. Everybody'stalking of it, as I said--people are asking what this evidence fromAmerica is; why was there such mystery about the whole thing, and so on.And, since then, everybody knows that Squire Greyle has left Scarhaven."
"Have you seen Mrs. or Miss Greyle since the inquest?" asked Copplestone,who was anxious to keep off subjects on which he might be supposed topossess information. "Have you been over there?"
"No--not since that day," replied Vickers. "And I don't care how soon wedo see them, for I'm a bit anxious about this telegram. Something musthave happened."
Copplestone looked out of the window on his side of the car. Already theywere clear of the Norcaster streets and on the road which led toScarhaven. That road ran all along the coast, often at the very edge ofthe high, precipitous cliffs, with no more between it and the rocks farbeneath than a low wall. It was a road of dangerous curves and cornerswhich needed careful negotiation even in broad daylight, and this was ablack, moonless and starless night. But Copplestone had impressed uponhis driver that he must get to Scarhaven as quickly as possible, and heand his companion were both so full of their purpose that they paid noheed to the perpetual danger which they ran as the car tore roundpropections and down deep cuts at a speed which at other times they wouldhave considered suicidal. And at just under the hour they ran on thelevel stretch by the "Admiral's Arms" and looking down at the harbour sawthe lighted port-holes of some ship which lay against the south quay, andon the quay itself men moving about in the glare of lamps.
"What's going on there?" said Vickers. "Late for a vessel to be loadingat a place like this where time's of no great importance."
Copplestone offered no suggestion. He was hotly impatient to reach thecottage, and as soon as the car drew up at its gate he burst out, badethe driver wait, and ran eagerly up to the path to Audrey, who opened thedoor as he advanced. In another second he had both her hands in hisown--and kept them there.
"You're all right?" he demanded in tones which made clear to the girl howanxious he had been. "There's nothing wrong--with you or yourmother--personally, I mean? You see, I didn't get your wire until thisafternoon, and then I raced off as quick--"
"I know," she said, responding a little to the pressure of his hands. "Iunderstand. You may be sure I shouldn't have wired if I hadn't felt itabsolutely necessary. Somebody was wanted--and you'd made me promise, andso--Yes," she continued, drawing back as Vickers came up, "we are allright, personally, but--there's something very wrong indeed somewhere.Will you both come in and see mother?"
Mrs. Greyle, looking worn and ill, appeared just then in the hall, andcalled to them to come in. She preceded them into the parlour and turnedto the young men as soon as Audrey closed the door.
"I'm more thankful to see you gentlemen than I've ever been in mylife--for anything!" she said. "Something is happening here which needsthe attention of men--we women can't do anything. Let me tell you what itis. Yesterday morning, very early the Squire's steam-yacht, the _Pike_,was brought into the inner harbour and moored against the quay justopposite the park gates. We, of course, could see it, and as we knew hehad gone away we wondered why it was brought in there. After it had beenmoored, we saw that preparations of some sort were being made. Thenmen--estate labourers--began coming down from the house, carryingpacking-cases, which were taken on board. And while this was going on,Mrs. Peller, the housekeeper, came hurrying here, in a state of greatconsternation. She said that a number of men, sailors and estate men,were packing up and removing all the most valuable things in thehouse--the finest pictures, the old silver, the famous collection ofchina which Stephen John Greyle made--and spent thousands upon thousandsof pounds in making!--the rarest and most valuable books out of thelibrary--all sorts of things of real and great value. Everything wasbeing taken down to the _Pike_--and the estate carpenter, who was incharge of a
ll this, said it was by the Squire's orders, and produced toMrs. Peller his written authority. Of course, Mrs. Peller could donothing against that, but she came hurrying to tell us, because she, likeeverybody else, is much exercised by these recent events. And so Audreyand I pocketed our pride, and went to see Peter Chatfield. But PeterChatfield, like his master, had gone! He had left home the previousevening, and his house was locked up."
Copplestone and Vickers exchanged glances, and the young solicitor signedMrs. Greyle to proceed.
"Then," she added, "to add to that, as we came away from Chatfield'shouse, we met Mr. Elkin, the bank-manager from Norcaster. He had comeover in a motor-car, to see me--privately. He wanted to tell me--inrelation to all these things--that within the last few days, the Squireand Peter Chatfield had withdrawn from the bank the very large balancesof two separate accounts. One was the Squire's own account, in hisname--the other was an estate account, on which Chatfield could draw. Inboth cases the balances withdrawn were of very large amount. Of course,as Mr. Elkin pointed out, it was all in order, and no objection could beraised. But it was unusual, for a large balance had always existed onboth these accounts. And, Mr. Elkin added, so many strange rumours aregoing about Norcaster and the district, that he felt seriously uneasy,and thought it his duty to see me at once. And now--what is to be done?The house is being stripped of the best part of its valuables, and in myopinion when that yacht sails it will be for some foreign port. Whatother object can there be in taking these things away? Of course, asnothing is entailed, and there are no heirlooms, everything is absolutelythe Squire's property, so--"
Copplestone, who had been realizing the serious significance of thesestatements, saw that it was time to speak, if energetic methods were tobe taken at once.
"I'd better tell you the truth," he said interrupting Mrs. Greyle. "Imight have told you, Vickers, as we came along, but I decided to wait,until we got here and found out how things were. Mrs. Greyle, the man youspeak of as the Squire, is no more the owner of Scarhaven than I am! Heis not Marston Greyle at all. The real Marston Greyle who came over fromAmerica, died the day after he landed, in lodgings at Bristol to whichPeter Chatfield and his daughter had taken him, and he is buried in aBristol cemetery under the name of Mark Grey; Gilling and I found thatout during these last few days. It's an absolute fact. So the man who hasbeen posing here as the rightful owner is--an impostor!"
A dead silence followed this declaration. The mother and daughter afterone long look at Copplestone turned and looked at each other. ButVickers, quick to realize the situation, started from his seat, withevident intention of doing something.
"That's--the truth?" he exclaimed, turning to Copplestone. "No possibleflaw in it?"
"None," replied Copplestone. "It's sheer fact."
"Then in that case," said Vickers, "Miss Greyle is the owner ofScarhaven, of everything in the house, of every stick, stone and pebble,about the place! And we must act at once. Miss Greyle, you will have toassert yourself. You must do what I tell you to do. You must get ready atonce--this minute!--and come down with me and Mrs. Greyle to that yachtand stop all these proceedings. In our presence you must lay claim toeverything that's been taken from the house--yes, and to the yachtitself. Come, let's hurry!"
Audrey hesitated and looked at Mrs. Greyle.
"Very well," she said quietly. "But--not my mother."
"No need!" said Vickers. "You will have us with you."
Audrey hurried from the room, and Mrs. Greyle turned anxiously toVickers.
"What shall you do?" she asked.
"Warn all concerned," answered Vickers, with a snap of the jaw whichshowed Copplestone that he was a man of determination. "Warn them, ifnecessary, that the man they have known as Marston Greyle is an impostor,and that everything they are handling belongs to Miss Greyle. TheScarhaven people know me, of course--there ought not to be any greatdifficulty with them--and as regards the yacht people--"
"You know," interrupted Mrs. Greyle, "that this man--the impostor--hasmade himself very popular with the people here? You saw how they cheeredhim after the inquest? You don't think there is danger in Audrey goingdown there?"
"Wouldn't it be enough if you and I went?" suggested Copplestone. "It'svery late to drag Miss Greyle out."
"I'm sorry, but it's absolutely necessary," said Vickers. "If yourstory is true--I mean, of course, since it is true--Miss Greyle isowner and mistress, and she must be on the spot. It's all we can do,anyway," he continued, as Audrey, wrapped in a big ulster, came back tothe parlour. "Even now we may be too late. And if that yacht once sailsaway from here--"
There were signs that the yacht's departure was imminent when they wentdown to the south quay and came abreast of her. The lights on the shorewere being extinguished; the estate labourers were gone; only two orthree sailors were busy with ropes and gear. And Vickers hurried hislittle party up a gangway and on to the deck. A hard-faced, keen-eyed,man, evidently in authority, came forward.
"Are you the captain of this vessel?" demanded Vickers in tones ofauthority. "You are? I am Mr. Vickers, solicitor, of Norcaster. I giveyou formal warning that the man you have known as Marston Greyle isnot Marston Greyle at all, but an impostor. All the property which youhave removed from the house, and now have on this vessel, belongs tothis lady, Miss Audrey Greyle, Lady of the Manor of Scarhaven. It isat your peril that you move it, or that you cause this vessel toleave this harbour. I claim the vessel and all that is on it on behalfof Miss Greyle."
The man addressed listened in silent attention, and showed no sign of anysurprise. As soon as Vickers had finished he turned, hurried down astairway, remained below for a few minutes, and came up again.
"Will you kindly step this way, Miss Greyle and gentlemen?" he saidpolitely. "You must remember that I am only a servant. If you will comedown--"
He led them down the stairs, along a thickly-carpeted passage, and openedthe door of a lighted saloon. All unthinking, the three stepped in--tohear the door closed and locked behind them.
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