The Third. Volume
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The vicar reflected for a few moments, and shook his head. "No, I never heard the name. She must have been here before my time. Have you any reason for wanting to see her?"
"Naturally, or I should not have asked," said Tait, with faint sarcasm. "However, I must make a confidant of you, as I wish for your advice and assistance."
"I shall be delighted to give both," said his friend briskly. "But here we are at my house, and there is my wife in the porch. My dear, this is an old college friend of mine, Spenser Tait. We must make him welcome, for the days that have been."
Mrs. Brandon, a comfortable, rosy-cheeked matron, with two tiny Brandons clinging to her skirts, heartily welcomed Tait, and led the way to the dining room. Here an extra knife and fork were hastily produced for the guest, and they all sat down to luncheon in the best of spirits. For the moment Tait banished all thought of the case from his mind, and laid himself out to be agreeable to the vicar's wife. In this he succeeded, as she subsequently pronounced him to be a singularly charming man; while he pronounced her to be one of the most intelligent women it had been his fortune to meet.
After luncheon Brandon conducted Tait to his study, and there, over an excellent cigar, the little man related the story of the Larcher affair from the time that Claude became possessed of the papers. Needless to say the clergyman was much astonished by the recital, and agreed with Tait that it was difficult to know which way to turn in the present dilemma. He thought that Denis was guilty and Jeringham an accomplice by force of circumstances; but doubted whether the existence of Louisa Sinclair might not altogether alter the complexion of the case.
"Of course, the difficulty will be to find Louisa Sinclair," he said thoughtfully; "five-and-twenty years is a long time to go back to. She may be dead."
"So she may," rejoined Tait a trifle tartly; "on the other hand she may be alive. I found that waiter and that gardener who were at Horriston then. Both remember the case, so it is probable that I shall find this woman, or at least gain sufficient information to trace her whereabouts."
"I cannot recall her name, Tait. She has not been here in my time. Fortunately I can help you in this much; that an old parishioner of mine is calling to-day, and, as she has lived here for the last forty years and more, it is likely she will remember if such a person dwelt here."
"Who is this old lady?"
"My dear fellow, you must not call her an old lady. It is true she is over forty, but – well she is always young and charming in her own eyes. Miss Belinda Pike is her name, and I shouldn't like to come under the lash of her tongue."
"Is she such a Tartar?"
"She is – My dear fellow, you must not ask me to talk scandal about my parishioners; moreover, I see the lady in question is coming up the garden path. Once set her tongue going, and you will learn all the history of Horriston for the last hundred years."
"I only want to go back twenty-five," rejoined Tait, smiling; and at that moment Miss Belinda Pike was announced.
She was a tall, bony female with a hook nose, a false front, and an artificial smile. Dressed in voluminous raiment, she bore down on Brandon like a frigate in full sail; and proceeded to talk. All the time she remained in the study she talked, of herself, of parish work, of Dorcas meetings, of scandals new and old; and so astonished Tait by the extent of her petty information and the volubility of her tongue that he could only stare and wonder. Introduced to him she was graciously pleased to observe that she had heard of him and his inquiries.
"The waiter, you know, Mr. Tait," she said, smiling at his astonishment. "Sugden is his name; he told me all about you. Now, why do you wish to learn all about that Larcher crime?"
"For amusement merely," replied Tait, rather scandalizing the vicar by this answer. "The waiter began to speak of it, and I encouraged him; later on I heard the story from a gardener."
"From Dicky Pental," interrupted Miss Pike vivaciously. "Oh, he can tell you nothing – he is mad!"
"Mad or not, he told me a great deal."
"All false, no doubt. My dear Mr. Tait," continued the lady impressively, "only one person can tell you the truth of that case. Myself!"
"Or Louisa Sinclair."
"Louisa Sinclair! What do you know about her?"
"Nothing, save her name," replied Tait; "but I want to know more. Can you give me the required information?"
"Yes. Come and have afternoon tea with me to-day, and I'll tell you all. Oh, yes," said Miss Pike, with a self-satisfied nod, "I know who killed Captain Larcher."
"Jeringham – Denis, the valet – Hilliston?"
"No. Those three people are innocent. I can swear to it. I know it."
"Then who is guilty?"
"Why," said Miss Pike quietly, "Mrs. Larcher's maid – Mona Bantry."
CHAPTER XXXIV
A LETTER FROM HORRISTON
"My Dear Claude:
"In my last letter I informed you of my various discoveries with regard to the case. I deem myself singularly fortunate in finding those who could afford me the necessary information. Five-and-twenty years is a wide gap of time, and, to tell the honest truth, I scarcely expected to be successful in my mission. Death, absence, old age, might have put an end to all who knew about the case, but, as you are already advised, I unexpectedly met with three people who gave me three different versions of the murder from their various points of view. First, the waiter Sugden, who merely reflected the opinion of Dick Pental; second, the gardener himself, with his first-hand story; and third, Miss Belinda Pike, whose ideas are quite at variance with the other two.
"I mentioned to you that I had met Miss Pike at my friend Brandon's, and that she had invited me to visit her the next day to hear her story of the case. Of course, I went, and found the lady an excellent character for my purpose. She has a truly wonderful memory for the small beer of life. She is a born gossip, and is one of the most spiteful women it has ever been my fortune to meet. Her invitation was more to satisfy her own vanity and curiosity than because she wished to do me a service; but if she is gratified in the one she is balked in the other. With some difficulty – for she is a most persistent creature – I managed to evade her inquiries as to my reason for wishing to know about 'The Larcher Affair'; and extracted from her all information likely to be of service to us in discovering the truth. What she told me leaves me more in the dark than ever; and I shall doubtless return to Thorston no whit nearer the truth than I was when I set out.
"But before narrating her story, as imparted to me in strict secrecy, you must not be offended if certain reflections are cast by this busybody on your mother. To get at the truth of this complication you must view it from a disinterested standpoint and throw aside all prejudice. I do not for a moment believe that Mrs. Larcher intended to willfully deceive her husband, as is implied by Miss Pike, but I must confess I think her conduct was highly reprehensible. Still I pass no judgment, as it is not my place to do so; and you must clearly understand that the remarks herein contained about her are those of Miss Pike. You can guess from their tenor what a very spiteful old lady she is. I promised to report my doings and hearings faithfully to you, and I hereby keep my promise, and at the cost of your losing your temper.
"The cause of Miss Pike's malignity is jealousy – a passion which is as active now with her as it was twenty-five years ago. Then the fair Belinda, according to her own account, was the belle of Horriston, and shared that enviable position with two rivals – the one being your mother, the other Miss Louisa Sinclair. I fancy I hear you exclaim at the mention of this name. But Mrs. Bezel is right; such a person does exist. She was a passably pretty girl, – according to Miss Pike, – and rather popular, – again Miss Pike, – but cared for no one so much as Mr. Francis Hilliston, then a handsome young lawyer of great promise and good family. This is evidently the romance of Hilliston's life, and accounts for his silence about Louisa Sinclair. He did not wish to speak of one who had disappeared under somewhat discreditable circumstances; yet who truly loved him. Whether he returned her love I cannot say. Suspend your judgment till you hear the story of this maiden lady. Of course, it is quite different to that of Dick Pental, and, I think, less easy to believe. The gardener spoke of what he saw; Miss Pike speaks of what she thinks. Judge for yourself which is right.
"As I have said, Miss Pike was a belle in her younger days. She was also well off, and could have made a good match. Unfortunately, she was in love with Hilliston; I say unfortunately, because he happened to be in love with Mrs. Larcher. I again apologize for putting the matter so plainly, but Miss Pike insisted that it was so. In those days Hilliston must have been a handsome and fascinating man, for Louisa Sinclair also loved him – with a like result. He had no eyes for these two damsels, but quietly devoted himself to Mrs. Larcher. I do not mean to say that he roused the suspicions of your father, for his devotion was perfectly respectful. The desire of the moth for the star, I may say – for Hilliston knew well enough that he had no chances in that quarter for two reasons. First, Mrs. Larcher was a married woman; second, she was in love with Jeringham.
"At the time of that notable dress ball matters stood thus:
"Miss Belinda Pike in love with Hilliston.
"Miss Louisa Sinclair in love with Hilliston.
"Hilliston in love with Mrs. Larcher.
"Mrs. Larcher in love with Jeringham.
"Can you imagine anything more complicated; and to make confusion still worse, Miss Pike solemnly asserted that Jeringham was not in love with Mrs. Larcher, but with her maid, Mona Bantry. Therefore, all round, each of these five people was in love with the wrong person. It was a modern 'Comedy of Errors,' with a tragic ending.
"Miss Pike went to the ball in the character of a flower girl, and there was astonished to find two Mary, Queen of Scots, and two Darnleys. During the night she learned that out of jealousy Louisa Sinclair had adopted the same fancy dress as your mother. She was the second Queen of Scots, and was attired precisely the same in all respects, save that Mrs. Larcher wore a small dagger, and Miss Sinclair did not. On making this discovery Miss Pike naturally thought – as a jealous woman would – that the second Darnley was Hilliston. She knew that the first was Jeringham, and did not trouble herself about him, but maneuvered to get speech with the second. To her astonishment she found out – how I cannot say – that it was Captain Larcher, who was supposed to be in London. He confessed that he was jealous of his wife, and had returned in disguise to learn the truth. Miss Pike was not clear whether he was suspicious of Jeringham or of Hilliston, and she had no opportunity of learning the truth as Larcher, seeing his wife leave the ballroom, followed her at once. The next day Miss Pike was informed of the disappearance of Jeringham, and later on she learned of the death of Captain Larcher.
"Now, you will ask whom she suspected. A woman with so unhappy a temper would not be long in forming an opinion about a matter connected with a lady of whom she was jealous. I allude to your mother. Miss Pike had a theory, and ever since, declining to accept the evidence given at the trial, has held firmly to it. She suspected Mona Bantry to be guilty. I give her reason in her own words.
"'Of course it is only theory,' she said, when I asked her pointblank who she thought was guilty, 'but my suspicions point to Mrs. Larcher's maid.'
"'To Mona Bantry?' I asked, rather astonished.
"'Yes! She was in love with Mr. Jeringham, and he was at the ball dressed as Darnley; Captain Larcher wore the same dress. As I told you he left the ballroom when he saw his wife go out with Mr. Jeringham. I fancy he followed them home, and caught them as they parted in the garden of The Laurels. Very likely he ordered Mr. Jeringham off the premises, and insisted on his wife going into the house. Mona, who was sitting up for her mistress, would open the door, and seeing by the dress, as she thought, Mr. Jeringham with Mrs. Larcher, I believe she lost her head and killed him.'
"'Killed him; but how?'
"'With the dagger worn by Mrs. Larcher,' responded Miss Pike triumphantly. 'She snatched it from the sheath as it hung at the girdle of Mrs. Larcher, and killed the poor man – thinking he was her lover. Then, finding out her mistake, she fled.
"'But so did Jeringham,' I said.
"'Yes. He also saw the murder, and naturally enough thought he might be suspected. I think he took Mona away with him on the very night, and they fled together. As to the body, Denis, the brother, to save his sister and possibly his mistress from being suspected, threw it into the river. That is my theory, Mr. Tait, and I believe it to be the true one.'
"I need not repeat more of our conversation, as it was merely argument on both sides, but you now know sufficient to see in what direction Miss Pike's suspicions are directed. Her story is quite at variance with that of your mother, who plainly stated that she found Mona in the sitting room with your father. It is not strange that the two narrations should be contradictory, for we must remember that Mrs. Larcher spoke from facts while Miss Pike only speaks from hearsay.
"Again, from the statement of Dick Pental, it would appear that the murder took place in the garden; your mother says it was committed in the sitting room, so here is another contradiction. But you must not forget that only one person has sworn to the identity of those he saw with the body. Miss Pike can prove nothing from facts, and only evolves accusations out of her own malignant nature. Your mother accuses no one, alleging that she fainted in the sitting room. Therefore, taking all facts into consideration, I believe the gardener's story to be true, and that Denis Bantry killed your father; Jeringham, through force of circumstances, being an accessory to the deed. This view accounts for the identity of Paynton with Jeringham, of Kerry with Denis – and fully accounts for their living in seclusion at Thorston. This is my opinion. Do you think you can give a better?
"Regarding your mother's hint about Louisa Sinclair, I confess I cannot understand it. Miss Pike was perfectly frank about that person; and stated that shortly after the murder she went to America and had not been heard of for years. Hilliston may know of her whereabouts, but under the circumstances I do not think he is likely to speak. At all events we are certain of two things: that Louisa Sinclair did not marry Hilliston; that she had nothing to do with the tragedy at The Laurels. Miss Pike intends to show me a portrait of the lady on the occasion of my next visit. A knowledge of her looks may lead to something; but honestly speaking I do not see how she can possibly be implicated in the matter.
"But I must bring this long letter to a close. I have found out sufficient at Horriston to justify our suspicions of the ménage at Rose Cottage, and when I return we must set our wits to work to see Paynton and Kerry. They must be forced into plain speaking, then we may solve the mystery of your father's death – not before. Expect me in two days, and think over what I have written so that we may discuss the matter thoroughly when we come together. And so no more at present from your friend,
"Spenser Tait."CHAPTER XXXV
THE ORIGINAL OF THE PORTRAIT
Claude Larcher was blessed with the best of tempers, and strongly gifted with self-control. He found these virtues very necessary in his profession, especially when in command of a body of men in the wilds. There no trouble ruffled him, no disappointment depressed his spirits; he was always serene and amiable, so that among his comrades his good temper had become proverbial. Had they seen him at this moment they would have found reason to alter their opinion.
The case wore out his patience; he saw no end to the complications arising therefrom. No sooner was one obstacle surmounted than another blocked up the path. But for Tait he would have taken Hilliston's advice long ago, and let the matter lie; but the little man was bent on solving this particularly tantalizing mystery, and so urged his friend to persevere in what seemed to be futile attempts. So far Claude had held to his resolve, but this last letter of Tait's with its budget of new complications threw him into a rage. He vowed that he would throw up the matter as soon as Tait returned. His father was dead, and there was an end of it; after five-and-twenty years nothing whatever could be discovered; and above all there was Jenny.
Claude was too clear-sighted to disguise from himself the fact that he was in love; and now enlightened by Mrs. Hilliston regarding the feelings of the young lady, he was doubly anxious to make her his wife. Before he could do so he had to remove an obstacle in the shape of her father, and that was no easy matter. Who Mr. Paynton was he did not know; whether he was implicated in the Larcher affair he could not guess; but of one thing he was certain: that Mr. Paynton resented his prosecution of the case. While he continued to investigate the mystery the recluse would continue inimical, and would therefore refuse to permit him to pay attentions to his daughter.
Regarding Linton and his love, Claude had no fears. He had been assured by Mrs. Hilliston that Jenny liked him best, and taking advantage of the hint he had thrown himself as frequently as possible into the society of his beloved. Did Jenny go to the vicarage, Claude was there under the pretense of questioning the clergyman concerning the architecture of the church; did she practice on the organ, Claude was always waiting at the door to carry her music-book to Rose Cottage. A walk in the morning, he was in the vicinity; a stroll in the evening, and he appeared unexpectedly round the nearest corner. In driving, riding, walking, visiting, this persistent young man was constantly to be found near Miss Jenny Paynton. All this meant infatuation.
Availing himself of the opportunities thus afforded, he learned her secret, and betrayed his own. Without a word being said on either side – with the shadow of the case between them – these two young people fell in love with one another. When Tait returned two days after his last letter, he was confronted by Claude with the intimation that he wished to stop further investigations. Tait, who was devoured by an unappeasable curiosity to find out the truth, resented this backsliding, and told Claude his opinion very plainly. But for their long friendship they would have quarreled over the matter; as it was Tait argued out the question, and induced Claude to come round to his way of thinking. But it was a hard task.
"You are not going to turn back after putting your hand to the plow?" he said, when Claude first broached the subject of abandoning the case.
"Why not, if the plow won't move?" returned the young man flippantly.
"The plow will move," returned Tait vehemently. "You got my last letter?"
"I did. But I don't see that it contains anything likely to elucidate the mystery. Your Dick Pental is a madman; your Miss Pike an untrustworthy gossip."
"That is your opinion, not mine. I have made a discovery since writing my last letter, of which I have not yet had time to inform you."
"What is it?"
"I'll tell you later on. Meanwhile is it on account of this girl that you have decided to abandon the case?"
"Partly, and partly because I think we are wasting time. Our investigation can lead to no result."
"We may find out who killed your father."
"I doubt that," replied Larcher coolly. "You suspect Hilliston; you suspect Jeringham; you suspect Mona Bantry. Why, in your last letter you hinted at the guilt of Denis, simply because a drunken lunatic told you a wild story; yet, so far as I can see, you have not a morsel of evidence against any one of the four."
"You are wrong," said Tait, in an argumentative manner. "The misfortune is that there is too much evidence against them all. I could furnish you with a case against each which – so far as circumstantial evidence is concerned – would convince you of their individual guilt."
"Theory, Tait, theory!"
"We'll prove that soon, my boy," said Tait, with exasperating coolness, "if you back out of the case, I at least am determined to see it through. I suppose you are bent on marrying the young lady."
"If she'll have me – yes."
"Humph! There's another obstacle which you have overlooked. The consent of her father – our mysterious friend, Paynton."
"I have not overlooked the obstacle. I will obtain his consent from his own lips."
"And how do you intend to see him?"
"Through the agency of Mr. Hilliston," replied Larcher calmly. "He has agreed to introduce me to Paynton to-morrow. Here is his letter."
The little man fairly bounded from his chair, and he took the letter from his friend's hand with an air of bewilderment. After mastering the contents he returned it with a satisfied nod.
"I congratulate you, Claude," he said, with a good-humored air. "Though you failed with the man, you may succeed with the matter. But how in the name of Olympian Jove did you induce Hilliston to do this?"
"Why, he saw that I was in love with Jenny, and for some inexplicable reason has agreed to forward my suit, by introducing me to plead my cause with the father."
"Not so inexplicable as you think," said Tait sagaciously. "I see his idea. He thinks you will be so occupied with love-making as to abandon the case."
"I don't know that he isn't right."
"Oh, I see you are bent on getting quit of the matter, Claude. But," and Tait shook a reproving forefinger, "you will change your mind after this interview with our hermit friend."
"Why so?"
"You will learn something which will astonish you. I only wish I could be present with you to see what occurs."
"But if I make no reference to the case," said Larcher seriously.
Tait waxed indignant on the instant, and spoke his mind freely. "Claude, my friend, I went into this matter solely on your account, and you owe it to me to see it through. If you find further investigation a bar to your marriage I will agree to let the matter drop. But first," added Tait, with emphasis, "you must make an effort to get the truth out of this man. Swear to him that you are resolved to push the matter to the end. Tell him that I have learned something new at Horriston. Mention the name of Louisa Sinclair. Then see the result. After hearing the story of Dicky Pental I am convinced that this man is Jeringham."
"I will do all you say," replied Claude, after some hesitation, "but I am afraid that my pertinacity in this matter will prejudice my wooing."
"If, at the end of the interview, you see that, withdraw your intention to go on with the case. Then out of gratitude he may give you his daughter. Bluff him first – yield afterward. In that way we may discover who Paynton is – what he has to do with the case, and why he is connected with Hilliston. Do you agree? Good! Give me your hand on that."
The two men shook hands, though it was not without a secret qualm that Claude thus sealed the compact. After a pause he said:
"And who is this Louisa Sinclair you make such a point of my mentioning to Paynton?"
"Ah! That is my discovery," said Tait, rubbing his hands. "When I interviewed Mrs. Bezel I showed her a portrait of Mrs. Hilliston, whom curiously enough she had never seen – no doubt Hilliston has his reasons therefor. She seemed startled, but said nothing. Then she wrote to you about Louisa Sinclair."
"But what has Louisa Sinclair to do with Mrs. Hilliston?"
"Can't you guess? Miss Pike showed me a portrait of Louisa Sinclair taken twenty-five years ago. I did not then wonder at Mrs. Bezel's start, or that Hilliston had refrained from letting her see the picture of his wife. In a word, Louisa Sinclair and Mrs. Hilliston are one and the same woman."
"Ah!" cried Claude, with a sudden recollection, "it was for that she was so afraid of your going to Horriston."
"Yes. She thought I might learn too much. This is the beginning of the end, Claude."