Part 18 (1/2)
WHICH CONCERNS A GUEST AT THE HALL.
The old fellow's recognition of the name made it clear that the mysterious Mademoiselle, on her escape from Chelsea, had taken refuge in that house, together with certain other persons who were either accomplices, or who had formed some conspiracy in which she was implicated.
To the doctor, of course, this declaration of the man Hayes conveyed but little, but to me it threw an entirely fresh light upon the extraordinary affair. To Pink I gave a false explanation of the reason of my question. Some cunning plot seemed to be in progress, until the attack upon the young Frenchwoman and its subsequent exposure had, it appeared, put them all to flight.
Richard Keene had apparently gone straight from the _Stanchester Arms_ and taken up his abode in that lonely house, ingratiating himself with the old people, in order, it seemed, to obtain a safe retreat for Mademoiselle, the man Logan and his two companions.
For what reason? Was this man Logan the same person who had walked with Lolita when I had discovered her after the tragedy?
I endeavoured to obtain a minute description of him from both the doctor and the farmer, but somehow his appearance, as described by my friend, was not as I had met him in those exciting moments on the Chelsea Embankment. Yet, perhaps, on that night, when he was secretly returning to Britten Street, his countenance might have been disguised. If he suspected that the police were watching, he would, no doubt, try and alter his personal appearance.
We both questioned old Mrs Hayes, a white-faced old woman in a silk cap with faded ribbon, but we could get nothing very intelligible from her, for she seemed upset and nervous regarding the hurried departure of the mysterious foreigners.
”I'm very sorry, sir, we 'ad anything to do with 'em,” she declared, shaking her head. ”Only the first gentleman 'as come was so nice, an'
made us laugh so much with 'is funny stories that we thought any friends of 'is'n must be just so nice. He'd been at sea, and told us a lot about places abroad.”
”Oh! he'd been at sea, had he?” I remarked, as that statement confirmed the suspicion that the man called d.i.c.k was actually Richard Keene--the person whose return had struck terror in the heart of both Lolita and the Countess.
”He said so,” was her answer. ”'E also said that he knew something of these parts, and made a lot of inquiries about the death of old Lord Stanchester, the present Earl's marriage and all that. In fact it somehow struck me that he had known the family long ago, and was anxious to hear about the recent happenings over at the Hall.”
”He made no remark about the man found dead in the park?” asked the doctor.
”No. Not to my recollection. But Mr Logan did. He seemed very concerned about it, and I believe he went over to Sibberton one evening to see the spot. Only he didn't tell us. We knew from the ostler at the _Fox and Hounds_ in Brigstock, where he hired a trap.”
This negatived the theory that Logan was the man I had met in Chelsea, for if he were, he would surely not have wished to visit a place he had already seen. Indeed, he would, no doubt, have kept away from it as far as possible.
Compelled as I was to veil from my companion the reason of my inquiries, he regarded them, of course, as unnecessary, and did not fail to tell me so in his plain blunt fas.h.i.+on.
”There's one thing quite certain,” he remarked as we cantered home together in the crimson sundown, ”there's a lot of mystery connected with those people. I wonder if there really has been a tragedy, and if the man Logan actually made an attempt upon the young fellow, as the girl had declared. It's a great pity,” he added, ”that we don't know their surnames.”
”Yes,” I agreed. ”If we did, we might perhaps establish their connexion with the affair in Sibberton Park.”
”Is it wise to tell Redway what we've heard?” he suggested.
In an instant I saw that to do such a thing would be to break my promise to Mademoiselle, therefore I expressed myself entirely against such a course, saying--
”My own idea is that if we conduct our inquiries carefully and in secret, we'll be able to learn much more than the police. Personally, I've no faith in Redway at all.”
”I haven't much, I confess,” he laughed. ”Very well. We'll keep our own counsel, and find out all we can further.”
To me the enigma had a.s.sumed utterly bewildering proportions. The mystery of it all, combined with the distinct suspicion resting upon the woman I loved so fondly, was driving me to madness. Sleeping or waking, my one thought--the one object of my life--was the solution of this problem that now const.i.tuted my very existence.
I would have followed Mademoiselle at once, and questioned her further, had I known her whereabouts. But, unfortunately, she had again escaped me, and I still remained powerless and in ignorance of the truth, which proved afterwards to be so utterly astounding.
We pa.s.sed through Brigstock, and cantering on set out along the long white highway. Both of us were silent, deep in thought. From the west poured an infinite volume of yellow-gold light. A wonderful transfiguring softness covered the earth. Far above the transfiguring gold in the west was a calm clear-s.h.i.+ning blue, and into the blue softly blended colour into colour so artistically that any painter's brush would be defied.
Suddenly, the rays of the sun stretched up from behind the dark hill-tops and the whole became an illimitable blaze of gold and crimson.
The sun seemed standing on the edge of the world, and its mystery was mirrored upon my heart.
The life of the day was nearing its end, and in the hush of silence we went onward, onward--towards home. And as we rode on I reflected that life was like an April day of alternate showers and suns.h.i.+ne, laughter and tears, flashes of woe and spasms of pain. One sun alone can brighten our gloom, and that sun is love. Without it, we have only the darkness of desolation.