Part 20 (2/2)
”You've forgotten what you took from Lady Scarlett. And six weeks'
advance of rent paid you by Captain Burns: twelve hundred pounds. He'll forget, too, if you offer the right inducement. You could have had more from him, if you hadn't insisted on the clause leaving you free to turn your tenant out at a fortnight's notice after the first month. I understand _now_ why you wanted it. If the girl had signed her name to a doc.u.ment you'd prepared, leaving her money to you--shares in some Australian mine, perhaps--it would have been convenient to you for her to die. And then----”
”Why waste time in accusations?” quailed Scarlett. ”_We_ won't waste it defending ourselves! If you're so anxious to get hold of the girl, come home with us and we'll turn over all responsibility to you.”
”Very well,” I said, and pulled the bell.
The woman started. ”What are you doing that for?” she jerked.
”I wish to order the taxi to take us to Dun Moat,” I explained. ”I confess I'm not so fond of your society that I'd care to walk a mile with you at night along a lonely road. I'm not a coward, I hope. But you'd be two against one. And you might hold me up----”
”As you've held us up!” the man snapped.
”Exactly,” I agreed.
Wolves in sheep's clothing have to behave like sheep when they're in danger of having their nice white wool stripped off. No doubt this is the reason that, when we arrived at the outside entrance of the bachelor's wing, my companions were meek as Mary's lamb.
Inside the suite of the garden court we found Terry Burns and his man raging, and Kramm sulking, in a room with a broken window. Terry had smashed the gla.s.s in order to get in, but his search had been vain. To do the old servant justice, she had the instinct of loyalty. I believe that no bribe would have induced her to betray her mistress. It remained for the Scarletts to give themselves away, which they did--with the secret of the room under the twisted chimney.
The room was built into the huge thickness of the wall which formed a junction between the old house and the more modern wing. The wonderful chimney was not a true chimney at all, but gave ventilation and light, also a means of escape by way of a rope ladder over the roof. But the rope had fallen to pieces long ago, and the prisoner of these days might never have found means of escape, had it not been for that trump-card named Bertie. The room under the twisted chimney would have been a convenient home subst.i.tute for the family vault.
Fate was for us, however--and for her. Even the Lady with the Shears might have felt compunction in cutting short the thread of so fair, so sweet a life as Cecil Scarlett's. Anyhow, that was what Terry said in favour of Destiny, when some days had pa.s.sed, and it was clear that with good care the girl would live.
We didn't take her to the inn, as I had planned when keeping the taxi, for Terry--caring less than nothing now for the night's rest of Princess Avalesco--ruthlessly routed the ladies from their beauty sleep. What they thought about us, and about the half-conscious invalid, I don't know; for true to my bargain with the Scarletts, no explanations detrimental to them were made. I think it pa.s.sed with the ladies that the girl had arrived ill, in a late train; and that Terry, emboldened by love of her, begged his tenant's hospitality. So, you see, they were partly right. Besides, the Princess Avalesco had lived in Roumania, where _anything_ can happen.
When Jim brought back Bertie, he brought also a doctor--by request. The doctor was his friend; and Jim's friends are generally ready to--well, to overlook unconventionalities.
I told you Princess Avalesco loved herself so much that she didn't miss Terry's love. She missed it so little that after a few weeks' romance she proposed a bedside wedding at Dun Moat, with herself as hostess; for, of course, nothing would induce her to shorten her tenancy!
Cecil had confessed to falling in love with Terry through the window, at first sight.
Therefore the wedding did take place, with Jim Courtenaye as best man, and myself as ”Matron of Honour,” as Americans say. Cecil looked so divine as a bride that no woman who saw her could have helped wis.h.i.+ng to be married against a background of pillows! I almost envied her. But Jim said that he didn't envy Terry. His ideal of a bride was entirely different, and he was prepared to describe her to me some day when I was in a good humour!
BOOK III
THE DARK VEIL
CHAPTER I
THE GIRL WITH THE LETTER
Brightening continued to be fun. As time went on I brightened charming people, queer people, people with their hearts in the right place and their ”H's” in the wrong one. I was an expensive luxury, but it paid to have me, as it pays to get a good doctor or the best quality in boots.
After several successful operations and some lurid adventures, I was doing so well on the whole that I felt the need of a secretary. How to hit on the right person was the problem, for I wanted her young, but not too young; pretty, but not too pretty; lively, not giddy; sensible, yet never a bore; a lady, but not a howling swell; accomplished, but not overwhelming; in fact, perfection.
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