Galleon House

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Galleon House Page 7

by Margaret Malcolm


  “I think you’ll remember,” Leo commented, flicking her chin lightly with his forefinger.

  He sauntered out of the room, softly singing a snatch of the song Simon had sung:

  And though I may never woo her,

  I love her till I die!

  Andrea’s eyes closed and she swayed a little. He was mocking her, she knew. Taunting her because, despite her protest, he still believed that she had come to love Simon.

  If only she could blot out the last hour from her memory—that hideous fear when she had thought that Simon was dead. And Leo ... Leo, who had suddenly become a stranger to her. And herself—because of that change in Leo, she had, in some indefinable way, changed as well. Never again could the relationship between them be on the old, accepted footing.

  With a strangled sob she rushed from Leo’s study down to her own room, closing and locking the door.

  Simon’s recovery was steady and sustained. To any queries about the identity of his assailant he professed complete ignorance.

  “The knife was thrown, and you can see for yourself that he must have been behind me from the position of the wound,” he pointed out indifferently. “And I fell forward. So I didn’t get so much as a glimpse of my would-be murderer.”

  “You think it was a deliberate attack?” Leo asked with interest, the glint in his eyes making it clear to Andrea at least that he found the conversation amusing.

  “Oh yes. There can hardly be any other explanation,” Simon said matter-of-factly. “Knives hardly fly out of people’s hands by accident, do they? But I may not of necessity have been the target he had hoped for.”

  “I don’t understand that,” Leo said sharply, every trace of amusement vanishing.

  Simon shrugged his shoulders and instantly grimaced at the pain the movement had caused him.

  “I must remember not to do that,” he remarked feelingly. “Yes ... well, what I mean is that, in the dark, all cats are gray. You and I, for instance, are the same height, though not the same build. We were both in our shirt sleeves—and must both have been fairly near to one another since you came along so quickly after it had happened. Yes, I think I may easily have been mistaken for you.”

  Andrea, who had sat rigid and still, her eyes watching the face of first one man and then the other, suddenly jumped to her feet.

  “How dare you!” she said shrilly, feeling as if the words were being forced out of her. “How dare, you! Everybody in St. Finbar loves Leo. They would never think of injuring him!”

  Simon nodded placidly.

  “Then we can dismiss the whole idea as foolishness on my part,” he said, but though his answer was in response to Andrea’s outburst, his dark eyes were fixed on Leo’s face with alert watchfulness.

  There was a silence so pregnant with unspoken menace that it seemed impossible that peace could be maintained.

  Then Leo laughed his big, bluff laugh.

  “How melodramatic we’re getting,” he said lightly. “No, my feeling about it is still the same. Some young fool found my knife—and as I’ve told you, it was my knife—and when he saw someone moving among the trees, he couldn’t resist throwing it. Probably thought it was a strayed animal of some sort. When he realized it was a man, he got scared and made off.”

  “You may be right,” Simon agreed equably. “What then?” Leo shrugged his shoulders.

  “That’s for you to say. Either you can leave it to me to discover the culprit—and know that he’ll get the thrashing of his life—or we can call in the police.”

  Andrea caught her breath. Leo’s lips were smiling, but his eyes were wary.

  Simon did not answer immediately, and once again tension grew.

  “No,” he said deliberately at last. “No, I don’t think we’ll trouble the police. In a place like this where relationships are so involved, it might cause bad feeling—the last thing I want to do.”

  Leo nodded.

  “Frankly, I’m relieved you take that standpoint,” he declared. “Then we’ll leave things as they are?”

  “That’s what I should prefer,” Simon told him quietly. Shortly afterward, he strolled out into the garden to join Madam, and Andrea turned to Leo.

  “What did he mean?” she asked sharply.

  Leo laughed and twisted one of her curls round his fingers. “A lot more than he said! Surely you understood what lay behind all that?”

  Andrea shook her head, her face puzzled.

  “No? You’re singularly dull today, my dear!” Leo said softly. “I’ll explain. Like you, everyone believes that I knifed Simon and they take it for granted that I had a sound reason for doing it. No doubt they even approve!”

  “Leo!” Andrea breathed. “Did you ... did you?”

  “I thought I told you not to be inquisitive!” Leo reminded her. “But, no—I—did—not!” With each word he gave a painfully sharp tug to the curl he held. Then his hand dropped to his side. “But I know who did—just as I know that he hoped to kill, knowing full well that suspicion would fall on me—as, you see, it has done.”

  “But why should it?” Andrea argued, and then, seeing his quizzical smile, she added defensively: “Yes, but though we know that it was your knife, no one else does. So why...?”

  Leo regarded her thoughtfully.

  “No,” he said at length. “If you can’t see for yourself, it’s better for you to remain in this blissful state of ignorance.”

  And nothing she could say would make him add another word to that.

  But if Andrea did not know what Leo meant, Madam knew without being told.

  “So it is generally believed that you tried to kill Simon because you do not like the attention he has paid Andrea?” she asked calmly.

  “Just that,” Leo said pleasantly.

  Madam frowned and her fingers played restlessly on the arm of her chair.

  “Does Simon believe that?” she asked.

  Leo looked genuinely surprised.

  “But of course! After all, his conscience must be somewhat uneasy ... since he is in love with Andrea.”

  “So you have realized that!” Madam commented. “And the girl?”

  Leo shrugged his shoulders.

  “Does that matter? She is marrying me.”

  Madam nodded slowly. She had expected that.

  “That being so, Simon cannot stay!” she told him firmly.

  “No, more’s the pity,” Leo said with genuine regret. “I have a lot in common with Simon. We should have teamed well. But, as you say, it’s out of the question now.” He frowned impatiently. What a confounded nuisance women are!”

  “Before now, women have made the same remark about your sex!” Madam said dryly. She paused, deep in thought. “What do you intend doing about it? Will you ask him to go?”

  “No, I will not!” Leo declared emphatically. “He is my guest and a blood relation. I won’t kick him out for the sake of a—” He halted abruptly. “In any case,” he went on in a milder tone. “I don’t think it will be necessary for me to do anything. Simon will stay sufficiently long to make it clear that he is not running away because he is in danger ... and then he will go of his own free will.”

  Madam deliberated.

  “Yes, you are probably right,” she admitted. “Odd to say such a thing of a Trevaine, but he is a gentleman!”

  Leo laughed with genuine amusement.

  “Dearest Madam, how right you are! It’s Simon’s one weakness. Unfortunately, we two appear to be the only ones who appreciate the fact!”

  “Unfortunately?”

  “But of course! I realized that Simon was not the sort to rob another man of his bride, and consequently I had no need to attempt to murder him as I’m generally supposed to have done.” Madam nodded.

  “Yes, that is true,” she said with a sigh. Then: “Leo, do you know who it was?”

  “I have a pretty shrewd idea,” he said carelessly. “Only one man feels he owes me a sufficient grudge to want to fix a murder on me. And only one ma
n had a chance of stealing my knife. And it’s the same man.”

  “Luke?” she breathed fearfully.

  Leo smiled. “Of course!”

  Madam laid her thin, tense hand on his arm.

  “You must be careful, Leo,” she begged. “He hates you. He always has.”

  “He has cause to,” Leo admitted. “My half-brother—older than I, but with no right to the Trevaine name, or the estate. Yes, in his shoes, I would hate.”

  Madam’s old face quivered.

  “Then you will do nothing to deepen his hatred?”

  Leo patted her hand affectionately.

  “On the contrary, I shall give him the thrashing he richly deserves,” he insisted. “Oh, but I must, Madam. There can only be one master here and if I let him get off scot free, there will be no end to the trouble he will cause. And he’ll get more daring as time goes on.”

  “Yes,” she sighed heavily. “Yes, that is true. But be careful, Leo! He knows ... too much. Supposing he—” She bit her lip, but Leo had no difficulty in finishing the sentence for her.

  “Supposing he turns State’s evidence?” He shook his head. “No, I think not. For one thing, he’s too deeply implicated himself, and for another—still more important—what he wants to do is step into my shoes. With all that means!” he added significantly. “Including Andrea!”

  “Leo, Leo, send him away!” Madam begged feverishly. “You must! It is the only thing to do. Tell him that unless he leaves St. Finbar you will ... you will...” Her voice trailed to silence and her head dropped on her chest.

  “You see, dear Madam?” Leo said gently. “If I send him away, if he knows that there is nothing more in St. Finbar for him then, without any doubt, he will thirst for revenge. And that revenge will fall not only on me but on our people as well. And that I must avoid. No, it’s better for me to risk only my own skin than have that happen.”

  “Yes,” Madam said heavily. Then, with an effort, she sat very erect, her eagle face stern and strong. “Yes, you are right! But... oh Leo, Leo, if anything should happen to you...”

  “I’ll do my best to see that it does not,” he promised grimly. “Remember, I have every reason to wish to live. I have a lot to lose including a beautiful bride!”

  “Leo...” She spoke with an impulsiveness rare in her. “There are times when I wish we had never accepted—”

  His upraised hand silenced her.

  “That is something about which we decided never to speak,” he reminded her gravely. “And though you may be right, it’s too late now.”

  “Yes,” she agreed with a sigh. “Much, much too late!” Simon lived up to Leo’s expectations to an almost uncanny degree. Two days after his talk with Madam, Leo heard just what he had anticipated. Simon sought him out in his study and announced that he would have to terminate his visit very soon.

  “The business I came over about has been settled sooner than I had thought possible,” he explained gravely. “What I would like to do, if it suits you, is run up to London and book my Bight, tidy up any odds and ends of business and then return here until I am due to leave.”

  “Of course,” Leo said warmly. “We shall only be sorry that you are ultimately leaving us. It’s been a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Simon.”

  “I’ve fulfilled a lifetime ambition by coming here,” Simon replied promptly. “I shall never forget the welcome you gave me.”

  “My dear chap!” Leo made a slight gesture of protest. “Even in these degenerate days, blood counts for something! I only hope we shall see more of you, one of these days.”

  But Simon shook his head.

  “I doubt it,” he said gravely. “New Zealand is a very long way away ... and my father is getting older. At present, he is still fit enough to carry on while I am away, but the day will come when I have to take over more and more responsibility. In fact, it was because I realized that my future freedom would be curtailed that I decided to make this trip.”

  “Well, I’m very glad you did,” Leo said heartily.

  But he noticed that Simon did not say that so was he, any more than he had said that it was a pleasure to have made the acquaintance of his relatives.

  Leo did not know what Madam had said about Simon using words to hide his real thoughts, but if he had, he would have concurred heartily.

  Unknown to Leo, Simon had written to his agent in London requesting him to find out where and when the diamond necklace and bracelet that Leo had made Andrea wear were to be sold. It had occurred to him that if the price was within his reach it would be a charming gesture to buy the two pieces and present them to Andrea as a wedding gift. It would also give him a great deal of satisfaction to know that the lovely things would sometimes sparkle around her delicate throat and wrist. But once they were presented, he knew that he must go. It was the only thing to do since, in any case, he was subtly aware that he had already outstayed his welcome.

  Away from Galleon House, he indulged himself in thoughts only of Andrea, a thing he dared not do when he was there lest a look or gesture should betray him. It was a joy to conjure up her image—her lovely, sensitive little face, the proudly set head with its crown of red curls, her vivid personality...

  These things he would never forget—would never wish to forget. It would be a bittersweet memory, but he knew he would never regret having met Andrea. Yet his face grew troubled, not on his own account but on hers. If only she were happy in the anticipation of her approaching marriage to Leo! But she wasn’t. He knew that beyond doubt, since love makes one sensitive to every mood of the beloved. And he would have given all he had to achieve happiness for her.

  But don’t start imagining that even if she were free, you could make her happy! he apostrophized himself. Not only do you not interest her in the slightest, hut just imagine her living in the conditions of life at home! Why, it would be impossible. Galleon House is the only place for her. Anywhere else, she would be out of time and place—and miserable. You’d better remember that, my boy! He sighed deeply. But it won’t be easy!

  The day after his arrival in London, he attended the sale rooms. He arrived early and was able to have a closer look at the necklace and bracelet than he had done when Andrea was wearing them. They were excellent stones, he decided. Better than he had thought. They would not go cheaply. All the better—up to a point. He wanted to give Andrea a worthwhile present—but he was only too well aware that there was a limit to what he could afford. He hoped that the sale had not attracted too much attention, but as the room filled, he saw that his hopes were not to be realized.

  Only jewelry was up for sale this morning and it was soon clear that bidding would run high. Most of those present were middle-aged or elderly men whom he suspected, from the fine diamond rings they themselves wore, were in the jewel trade. There were one or two elegantly dressed women, usually with a man who did the bidding. And there was one man in particular who caught his attention. An American with what Simon described to himself as a poker face. Not the sort one would expect to see in such a place, and yet why not? His steely eyes and thin, tightly compressed lips suggested the hardheaded, ruthless businessman. Even so, there might be some hidden streak of sentiment in his makeup. Or, perhaps more likely; it pleased his vanity that he could buy his wife more extravagant jewelry than most other women had. It was the evidence of his own success.

  A good many other items were auctioned before the Trevaine jewels were offered. The bidding was brisk and the prices high. The American, however, showed no interest.

  There was a little silence as the auctioneer now leaned forward impressively.

  “As many of you know, from time to time we are privileged to deal with treasures from the collection of Mr. Leo Trevaine. Today is one of those occasions. And I may say I do not believe our client has ever sent us such exquisite pieces as those I am about to offer. Not only are the stones particularly fine and the design extremely pleasing, but there is a very great historical interest.”

  The
bidding started high as Simon had anticipated it would, and for a time it was brisk. Then, one by one, would-be purchasers dropped out as the figure rose beyond their reach. But the atmosphere became more and more tense as the few remaining bidders—Simon, the American and three others—added to their previous offers.

  At last, only Simon and the American were left. And Simon knew that he was near his limit. But whatever offer he made was instantly topped. Recklessly, Simon went beyond what he had intended ... but it made no difference. The American was determined to have the two pieces no matter what the price, and at length Simon was forced to give up.

  He was desperately disappointed—but he was also curious. Valuable though the necklace and bracelet were, he was pretty sure that they were not worth the price they had fetched. He knew what his own reason had been for wanting them, even at so high a price, but he would have given a lot to know what had driven so tough a customer as the American to such lengths!

  Well, he was unlikely to find out, but at least he could tell himself that he had been instrumental in forcing the price up to something that would surely put off the day when other Trevaine treasures would have to be sold! So, indirectly, he had done something for Andrea.

 

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