Part 35 (2/2)
”I knew quite well what I meant. I had gathered a few facts together from those papers, and I meant to put the screw on when I saw the victim. Was not I working for home, and love, and wife? Was I likely to hesitate? Was I not working for a good man's honour? What else is a soldier worth if he can't make the best of such a job as I had set myself?
”Well, the long and short of it was this, Heather. That woman got as meek as a mouse. I put the screw on her right away, and she was so frightened she hardly knew what to do; so terrified was she that in less than ten minutes I could do anything with her, and in a quarter of an hour she and I were going in her motor-car to the home where the Honourable Gideon was lying at the point of death, owing to a fresh attack of his old enemy, D.T. We both saw him together, and the moment I looked at his face I said to myself: 'You're the boy; you have got the ugly sort of face that would be capable of doing that sort of low-down, mean thing.'
”Afterwards I saw him alone; I put the screw on at once, but quite quietly. The doctor had said that he couldn't possibly recover, and I said that it would be much better for him to ease his conscience. So he did ease it, with a vengeance. He was in such a mortal funk at the thought of dying that he told me the whole thing. It was he who forged the cheque and took the money, and he and Lady Helen between them got your father to bear the brunt of the blame--in short, to act as the scapegoat. You see, your father was half mad about Lady Helen then, and she could do anything with him: he was badly in debt, too, and half off his head with trouble. Your father spent ten years in penal servitude, and all for the sake of a woman who was not worth her salt. It was arranged between them that he was to save her brother, and that she would marry him and take his part, and give him of her enormous wealth when he came out of prison. It was a nicely-arranged plan, and why he ever yielded to it is more than I can make out; but guilty--he was never guilty.
”When that precious Gideon had told his story, I got in proper witnesses and had it all written down, and he put his signature to it, and I had that signature witnessed. After that I did not bother much about him; he died in the night.
”I went to Lady Helen next day, and told her what was to be expected. I said: 'Your husband's honour has to be cleared.' She was in an awful funk, but I did not care. I never saw anyone in such a state; I don't know what she did not promise me. She said I might marry you, and welcome, and that she'd settle ten, or even twenty thousand pounds on you. As if either of us would touch a farthing of her money! But in the end your father himself came to the rescue, and said that if you knew he was innocent, and I knew he was innocent, he was accustomed to the opinion of the world, and he would be true to Lady Helen as long as he lived. It was quixotic of him--much too quixotic; but there, that's how things stand. Oh, of course, I forgot--your Aunt Penelope is to know, and we may be married as soon as ever we like--to-morrow by special licence, if we can't wait any longer, but anyhow as soon as possible.
There, little Heather. Now, haven't I a right to kiss you? And what nonsense you did talk in your sweet little letter, your precious letter, which I will keep, all the same, until my dying day!”
Vernon put his arm round me, and I laid my head on his shoulder. My first sensation was one of absolute peace. Oh! my light and happy heart!
Oh! my father--my hero once again!
CHAPTER XX
Certainly Vernon's story was the most amazing that any girl had ever listened to. Notwithstanding my great joy I could not take it all in at once. The first time of telling seemed to have little or no effect on me, except that it lightened my heart in a most curious manner of a load which was almost insupportable. I sprang suddenly to my feet.
”Will you come out with me?” I said. ”Shall we go up on the Downs, and will you tell me there the whole story from beginning to end over again?”
He smiled and said, in his bright way:
”All right, little Heather.”
I flew upstairs. Aunt Penelope was moving about in her room, but I would not go to her. I felt somehow that I could not meet her just yet, and she, dear old thing, must have guessed my feelings, for she did not attempt to trouble me. I put on my hat and jacket, s.n.a.t.c.hed up my gloves, and ran downstairs. Vernon was waiting for me. How tall he was, and broad, and how splendidly he carried himself!
”Oh, Vernon,” I said, looking into his face, ”I am so proud that you are a soldier!”
He laughed.
”Thank you very much indeed, little Heather,” he said.
When we got out he drew my hand through his arm, and we went up to the beautiful Downs. We sat on the heather and he told me the story over again; I took it in much better this time. When it was quite finished I said:
[Ill.u.s.tration: ”We sat on the heather and he told me the story over again.”]
”And father--what is to become of father?”
”I'm afraid he'll have to go on living with Lady Helen,” was Vernon's answer. But I shook my head.
”No,” I said; ”not at all. I have a better scheme than that. Lady Helen is very much frightened, isn't she, Vernon?”
”A 'blue funk' doesn't even describe her,” replied Vernon.
”Well, then,” I said, ”I have a plan in my head. You and I will go up to London to-morrow.” ”I am quite agreeable, Heather--that is, if it causes you to hurry on our wedding day.”
”Oh, there's time enough for our wedding day,” I said. ”We mustn't be selfish, you know, Vernon.”
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