by Guy Boothby
CHAPTER X
A more miserable home-coming than Godfrey's, after the events describedin the previous chapter, could scarcely be imagined. They had taken acab from the lawyer's office to Euston Station, and during the drive,neither of them referred in any way to the interview they had just hadwith Codey. It was not until they were seated in the railway carriage,and the train had started upon its journey, that they broke theirsilence.
"Sir Vivian," said Godfrey, "I can not express to you my thanks for thekindness which you showed me in standing by me to-day. Believe me, I amvery sensible of it."
"You must not speak of it;" said the worthy old gentleman; "and as forthe affair itself, it is a piece of ill-luck that might have happened tothe best of us. At the same time, I should very much like to have anopportunity of telling that wretched Fensden what I think of him."
"Do not let us talk of him," said Godfrey. "His own feelings must besufficient punishment for him. There is one thing, however, that I mustsay to you before we go any further."
"And what is that?"
"It concerns my wedding," Godfrey replied. "I am afraid it will be aterrible blow to poor Molly; but until this charge, which I have nodoubt will be brought against me, is disproved, she must not think anymore of me."
Sir Vivian stared at him in astonishment.
"Nonsense, my dear lad," said he. "I know that you love my girl, andthat she loves you. It is her duty, therefore, to stand by you and tocomfort you when you are in trouble. Believe me, she will have no doubtas to your innocence."
"I know that," said Godfrey; "but I do not think it would be fair for meto allow her name to be linked with mine under such painfulcircumstances."
"It will be linked with it whether you like it or not," was the reply."If I am prepared to stake my honour on your innocence, you may be verysure that she will stake hers. Molly isn't a fair-weather friend."
"She is the truest and best girl in the world," said Godfrey. "No oneknows that better than I."
"Then wait until you have seen her and talked it over with her alone.Put the question to her, and see what she will say. I know her wellenough to guess what her answer will be."
"God bless you for your trust in me!" said Godfrey, in a shaky voice. "Ifear I have done very little to deserve it."
"It is sufficient that I know you for what you are," the other answered."I knew your uncle and grandfather before him, and I am as certain thatyou would not do anything dishonourable as I am of my own name. What wehave to do is to put our wits to work and to endeavour to find out, asCodey says, the sender of the box. Then I believe we shall be on thetrack of the real criminal. It was a very good suggestion on Mr.Bensleigh's part that we should employ that man; we could not have had abetter. I never saw such eyes in my life. He seems to look one throughand through. I pity Mr. Fensden when he comes to be cross-examined byhim."
The old gentleman chuckled over the thought and then lapsed intosilence.
When they reached Detwich, they became aware that Griffin had travelledfrom London by the same train. Godfrey beckoned to him.
"Of course you heard the evidence to-day, Griffin," Godfrey began whenthe other approached.
"Yes, sir, I did," said the police official, gravely.
"And you must have drawn your own conclusions from it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Well, Griffin, what I wanted to say to you is that, if I am wanted foranything, I shall not leave the Hall until Wednesday morning; then Ishall go up to the inquiry again."
"I will bear the fact in mind, sir," said the man. "But there's onething I should like to say, if you don't mind."
"What is it? Say it by all means."
"It's this, sir. Whether it's going against my duty or not--and there'snobody here to hear it if it is--whatever verdict they may bring in, Idon't believe for a moment that you had any more to do with that poorgirl's death than I had. You will excuse my saying so, I hope, sir?"
"On the contrary, I am very much obliged to you for your good opinion,"Godfrey replied, holding out his hand which the other took. "I am afraidthat it's going to be a very unpleasant business for me. That can't behelped, however. Good-night."
"Good-night, sir," the man answered.
Then Godfrey joined Sir Vivian and, as had been arranged, they drove offto the Hall together. The moon was rising above the hill as they wentthrough the park, and as Godfrey looked on the peaceful scene around himand thought of the terrible suspicion that was growing in people's mindsconcerning himself his heart sank within him. If only little Teresinacould speak, how easily she could clear up all the dark charges againsthim! She was dead, however, brutally murdered, and he, the only man whohad ever befriended her, was suspected of having caused her death.
"Keep up a stout heart, my lad," said Sir Vivian, as they alighted fromthe carriage and ascended the steps. "Think of the ladies, and don'tmake them any more unhappy than you can help."
The door was opened by the ancient butler who had served his unclebefore him, and Godfrey entered his home, but how different a man fromthe young fellow who had left it that morning!
"The ladies are in the drawing-room, sir," said the servant, when he hadrelieved them of their hats and coats.
They accordingly proceeded thither, one of them at least with a sinkingheart.
"We have just been wondering when we should see you," said Kitty.
There was a look of anxiety on Molly's face as she came forward to meether lover. She placed her hand in his, and they sat down together.
"Well, my dear boy," said Mrs. Henderson, "what have you to tell us?What was the result?"
There was no need for her to say to what she referred. Their minds hadbeen too much occupied with it that day to leave room for anyuncertainty upon the point.
"Nothing is decided yet," said Sir Vivian, who took upon himself thepart of spokesman. "The inquiry is adjourned until Wednesday."
"That means that you will have to go up again," said Molly. "Whycouldn't they settle it at once?"
Godfrey knew, but he dared not tell her the reason.
"They are searching for more evidence, I fancy," said Sir Vivian. "Youmust remember that the matter is, at present, shrouded in the greatestmystery. Until that can be cleared up, nothing can be done."
"And Mr. Fensden, where did you leave him?" asked Mrs. Henderson.
"We parted outside the Court," said Godfrey. "I have no idea where he isstaying to-night."
Though he tried to speak unconcernedly, Molly felt certain in her ownmind that there had been trouble between the two men. She said nothingto him about it, however. She knew that he would tell her in good time.
That night, when Sir Vivian's carriage was announced, Godfreyaccompanied him to the front door. Before leaving, the old gentlemantook him on one side out of earshot of the servants.
"Keep up your spirits, my dear lad," he said, as he had done so manytimes before. "Remember that you have many friends and that I am not theleast of them. Should anything occur, send for me at once, and I will bewith you as fast as horses can bring me. In the meantime do not alarmthe ladies more than you can help."
"You may rely upon my not doing so," said Godfrey, and then Sir Vivianentered his carriage and drove away.
Later, when Godfrey bade Molly good-night, she looked up at him withsorrowful eyes.
"I feel sure," she said, "that there is something you are keeping backfrom me. I beg of you not to do so. You know how I love you, and howearnest is my desire to share both your joys and your sorrows with you.Will you not confide in me and tell me everything?"
"When there is anything worth the hearing, you may be sure I will tellyou, dear," he answered, not daring to let her know the truth thatnight. "In the morning we will talk the whole matter over and you shallgive me your advice. And now you must go to bed and try to obtain a goodnight's rest, for I am sure you did not sleep well last night."
"I did not," she answered. "I was thinking of you all night, for I knewhow you were dreading
going up to-day."
He did not tell her that he dreaded going up on Wednesday a great dealmore. He preferred to take her in his arms and kiss her, calling her hisgood angel, swearing that he would love her all his life long, and thateven death itself should not separate them. Then he went to his room,prepared to spend what he knew would be a sleepless night, and he wasnot destined to be wrong. Hour after hour he tumbled and tossed upon hisbed, going over the day's proceedings again and again, and speculatingwith never-ceasing anxiety as to what was to happen in the future. Atlast, unable to bear it any longer, he rose from his bed and wentdownstairs to his studio, where he lighted his fire and smoked and readuntil daylight. Then a cold bath somewhat refreshed him, and, as soon ashe had dressed, he set off across the park to the home farm. He wasalways an early riser, and his presence there at that hour excited nocomment. He watched the sleek, soft-eyed cows being milked, saw thehandsome cart-horses, of which he had once been so proud, set off upontheir day's work, had a quarter of an hour's conversation with hishead-keeper at his cottage gate, and then returned home through theplantations to breakfast. It was his mother's habit to read prayers tothe household immediately before the meal, and, as he knelt by Molly'sside, and listened to the old familiar words, his heart ached when hethought of the misery that any moment might bring upon them.
As the first train from London did not arrive until somewhat late, themorning papers were delivered with the letters, which usually reachedthe Hall about half-past nine. When they arrived Godfrey selected one,and took it with him to his studio. With a feeling that he had neverbefore experienced when opening a paper, he turned the crisp pages insearch of the column which he knew he would find. Then he saw in largetype:
THE BURFORD STREET MURDER
* * * * *
EXTRAORDINARY EVIDENCE
* * * * *
There was no need for him to wonder what that evidence was: he knewbefore he began to read. The prominence given by the paper to the casewas a proof of the excitement the inquiry had aroused in the publicmind. At last he forced himself to read. Every word rose before his eyesas vividly as though it had been traced in letters of fire. Set down incold print, the affair presented a very sinister aspect, so far as hewas concerned. Every portion of the evidence seemed to point to himselfas being the man who had committed the dastardly deed. He could wellimagine what the feeling of independent persons would be who read it,and how readily they would arrive at a conclusion unfavourable tohimself. He had just perused it for the second time, when he wasstartled by a faint tap upon the door.
"Come in," he cried, and in response Molly entered the room.
"I have been looking for you," she said, with the parody of a smile uponher face.
"I should have come in search of you in a few moments," he replied. "Thefact is, I have had certain things to do which could not very well beleft undone. Will you forgive me, dear?"
"Of course I will," she answered. "It is impossible for you to be alwayswith me, and yet I am selfish enough to grudge you the time you spendupon anything else."
He was quick-witted enough to see that what she said was only an attemptto gain time. She, on her side, knew that he stood in need of comfort,and she had come to give it to him.
"Molly," he said, rising from the chair in which he had been sitting andgoing toward her, "I feel that I must tell you everything. God knows,this is the crisis of my life, and to whom should I turn in my sorrow,if not to the woman I love, and whom I know loves me? Have you read theaccount of the inquest in the papers?"
"No," she answered, "I would not read it, lest I should derive a falseimpression from it. I am quite willing to hear what you have to sayabout it, and to accept your version as the truth."
"God bless you, dear, for your trust in me!" he replied; "but it isnecessary that you should hear what other people have to say upon thematter. Read it carefully, and, when you have finished, tell me what youthink about it."
He gave her the paper, and for a moment she stood as if undecided.
"Do you really wish it?" she asked.
"It is better that you should do so, believe me," he said. "In thatcase, no one can say that I kept anything back from you."
"I will read it," she said, and went toward the window-seat to do so.
While she was reading, he stood before the fire and watched her. Henoticed the poise of the beautiful head, the sweet hands holding thepaper, on one finger of which sparkled the engagement ring he had givenher, and the tiny foot just peeping from beneath the dark green skirt.She was a woman worth fighting all the world for, and, as he reflectedhow easy it would be for false evidence to separate them, he experienceda fear such as he had never known in his life before.
When she had finished, she crossed the room with the paper in her hand.Deliberately folding it up and laying it upon the table, she went tohim, and placed her hands in his. Looking up into his face with trustfuleyes, she said:
"I told you yesterday, Godfrey, that I believed in you. I tell youagain, that, whatever the world may say with regard to this dreadfulaffair, it will make no difference in my love. I feel as convinced as Iam of anything that, by whatever means, or at whose hand, that poor girlmet her death, you were in no sort of way responsible for, or connectedwith it. You believe me, don't you?"
"I do," he answered, with tears in his eyes. "And I thank God for yourtrust. Do you know, yesterday I suggested to your father that, situatedas we are, it would be better if I were to give you back your freedomuntil my innocence is proved?"
"I would not take it," she answered, firmly. "When I gave myself to you,it was not to be your bride in fair weather alone; it was to be yourpartner in the rough seas of life as well as in the smooth. No, comewhat may, Godfrey, I will not let you give me up. Promise me that youwill never mention such a thing again? It hurts me even to think of it."
"Your mind is made up?"
"Quite made up," she answered. "I should not change, even if you werewhat--(here she shuddered)--what that paper would seem to suggest. No,darling, I am your wife, if not in the law, at least in God's sight."
"I thank you," he answered, earnestly. "The knowledge that you stilltrust me will be my most precious consolation."
"And now tell me of this Mr. Codey, the lawyer you have employed. Is hea clever man?"
"One of the cleverest in the land, I should say," Godfrey replied. "Hehas had great experience in these sort of cases, and, if any man canrender me assistance, I should say he is that one."
"Oh, how thankful I shall be," she said, "when everything is settled!How little we dreamt, when we were so happy together last week, thatwithin a few days we should be made so miserable! Perhaps, after all, itis only our love being tried in the crucible of trouble. And when it isover, and we have come out of it, we shall know each other's real worth.That is the best way to look at it, I think."
"Quite the best," he answered, and kissed her on the forehead.
Then, adopting a brighter tone, he suggested that they should go for awalk together, in order, if possible, to dispel, for the time being atleast, the dark clouds that had settled upon them. It was a clear,bright morning, and as they crossed the park, and mounted the hillsidetoward the plantation, where the rabbits were playing, and thepheasants, who of late had not received the attention their meritsdeserved, were strutting about on the open grass land, Godfrey found itdifficult to believe that the situation was really as desperate as heimagined. Their walk lasted for upward of two hours; indeed, it wasnearly lunch-time before they reached the house once more. When theydid, Molly went upstairs to her room to prepare herself for luncheon,while Godfrey made his way to his mother's sitting room, where he foundthe old lady quietly knitting by the fire.
"Thank goodness you have come in at last, dear!" said Mrs. Henderson. "Ihave been wanting so much to have a talk with you! Godfrey, I have readthe evidence given at the inquest, and it frightens me."
"I am sorry for that
, mother," he said, seating himself by her side."What do you think of it?"
She placed her hand upon his arm, and looked at him with her lovingeyes.
"I think my boy is too noble to have done anything of which his motherwould have had reason to be ashamed."
Godfrey rose from his chair and walked to the window. These constantproofs of the love in which he was held was unmanning him. He could nottrust himself to speak. When his own little world believed in him soimplicitly, how could the greater world be so censorious?
When they went into luncheon, Godfrey soon saw that the ancient butlerand his subordinate had become aware of the state of affairs. Attentiveto his wants as they always were, on this particular occasion, theywere even more so than usual. It was as if they were endeavouring intheir own kindly way to show that they too believed in him, and weredesirous of proving their sympathy with him. Never before had his ownhome struck him in the same light. His heart was too full for speech,and, in spite of his sister's well-meant attempt to promoteconversation, the meal passed almost in silence.
After luncheon the bailiff sent in word that he should like to speak tohim. The man was accordingly admitted to the smoking-room, where hediscussed various matters connected with the estate with his master forupward of an hour. Labouring as he was, under the weight of greateremotions, Godfrey found it difficult to pin his attention to the mattersat issue, and when the other went his way, after respectfully touchinghis forelock, for the first time since he had known the old fellow, heheaved a sigh of relief. At half-past four he joined the ladies in thedrawing-room for afternoon tea. To add to his pain, another consignmentof wedding presents had arrived, and in order that he should not bethought to be unduly nervous about the future, he was compelled toappear delighted with the attentions he had received from his friends.
"That makes the fifth pair of asparagus tongs we have received," saidMolly, as she closed the case and placed it with its fellows upon thetable. "And what is this? Well, I declare, it's another set of sweetdishes. That brings the number up to twenty-seven!"
At that moment the sound of carriage wheels outside reached them,followed, a few seconds later, by the ringing of the front door-bell.
"Visitors, I suppose," said Kitty. "It may be rude, but I must say thatI trust it is not the vicar."
They waited in suspense until Williamson, the butler, entered the roomand informed Godfrey that a gentleman had called to see him, and waswaiting in the library.
"Who is it?" Godfrey asked. "Did he not give his name?"
"His name is Tompkins, sir," the butler replied. "He said he should beglad if you could spare the time to see him for a few moments."
"I will do so at once," said Godfrey, and, asking the ladies to excusehim, left the room.
On entering the library, he found himself face to face with amiddle-aged individual, who at first glance resembled a sporting parson.He was dressed in black, and carried a black silk hat in his hand.
"What can I do for you?" Godfrey inquired. "I am not aware that I haveever seen you before."
"Very likely not, sir," the man replied. "My name is Tompkins, and I ama Scotland Yard detective. I hold a warrant for your arrest on a chargeof wilfully murdering Teresina Cardi in Burford Street on the night ofThursday last. I had better tell you that anything you may say will beused against you."
The blow had fallen at last!