by Louis Tracy
CHAPTER XXIX
HOW LADY DYKE DISAPPEARED
(_Being the Manuscript left by Sir Charles Dyke, Bart., and addressed to Claude Bruce, Esq., Barrister-at-law_)
It is customary, I believe, for poor wretches who are sentenced toundergo the last punishment of the law to be allowed a three weeks'respite between the date of their sentence and that on which they areexecuted. I am in the position of such a one. The difference between meand the convicted felon lies merely in environment; in most respects Iam worse situated than he. My period of agony is longer drawn out, I amcondemned to die by my own hand, I am mocked by the surroundings ofluxury, taunted by the knowledge that though life and even a sort ofhappiness are within my reach I must not avail myself of them.
There may come a time in the affairs of any man when he is compelled tochoose between a dishonored existence and voluntary death. Theseunpleasant alternatives are now before me. You, who know me, would neverdoubt which of them I should adopt, nor will you upbraid me because ourjudgments coincide. There is nothing for it, Bruce, but quietdeath--death in the least obtrusive form, and so disposed that it may bepossible for you, chief among my friends and the only person I can trustto fulfil my wishes, to arrange that my memory may be speedilyforgotten. My virtues, I fear, will not secure me immortality; myfaults, I hope, will not be spread broadcast to cram the maws of thegaping crowd.
I do not shirk this final issue, nor do I crave pity. In setting forthplainly the history of my wife's death and its results, I am actuatedsolely by a desire to protect others from needless suspicion. Havingresolved to pay forfeit for my own errors, I claim to have expiatedthem. This document is an explanation, not a confession.
I have not much time left wherein fittingly to shape my story so as tobe just to all, myself included. If I am not mistaken, the officers ofthe law are in hot chase of me, but my statement shall not be made to anearthly judge. The words of a man about to die may not be well chosen;they should at least be true. I will tell of events as nearly aspossible in their sequence of time. If I leave gaps through haste orforgetfulness you will, from your own knowledge of the facts, readilyfill them up once you are in possession of the salient features.
Mensmore and his sister were the friends of my early years. We playedtogether as children. Gwendoline Mensmore was two years younger than I,and I well remember making love to her at the age of eleven. Her motherdied when she was quite a baby, and her father married again, so herstep-brother Albert is her junior by four years. I taught him how toride and swim and play cricket. My father's place in Surrey--wedid not acquire the Yorkshire property until the death of mygrandfather--adjoined the estate General Mensmore occupied after hisretirement from the army.
We children always called Gwendoline "Dick," to avoid the difficulty ofher long-sounding name, I suppose, and I honestly believe that ourrespective parents entertained the idea that a marriage between us wasquite a natural thing. I went to school at Brighton, and Mensmore,being a somewhat precocious lad, joined the same school before I left.The headmaster, the Rev. Septimus Childe, was an old friend of myfather's, and when he wished to purchase a house at Putney--the terriblehouse which has figured in my dreams for the past three months as aPlace of Skulls--my parents put pressure on my mother's trustees to makethe transaction an easy one. Of course, I knew it well. We regarded itin those early days as a town house, and always lived there during theseason.
My father's succession to the title and estates changed all that. Wequitted Surrey for Yorkshire, and Wensley House, Portman Square, was astep upwards from the barrack-like building which so admirably suitedMr. Childe's requirements.
When I was at Sandhurst General Mensmore got into difficulties. Hequitted Surrey, and we gradually lost sight of him and his children.Afterwards I knew that he struggled on for a few years, placed his sonin the army, and then came a complete collapse, ending in his death andthe boy's resignation of his commission. Of Gwendoline Mensmore'swhereabouts I knew nothing. Her memory never quitted me, but the newinterests in my life dulled it. I imagined that I could laugh at achildish infatuation.
Then I married. I did so in obedience to my father's wishes, and Alicewas, I suppose, an ideal wife--far too ideal for a youngster of my lowerintellectual plane. I know now that I never had any real affection forher. I was always somewhat awed by her loftier aspirations. My interestslay in racing, hunting, sports generally, and having what I defined as"a good time." She, though an excellent horsewoman, and in every sensean admirable hostess, thought Newmarket vulgar, treated Ascot as asocial necessity, and turned up her eyebrows at me when I failed to seeany utility in schemes for the reclamation of the submerged tenth.
Thus, though we never quarrelled, we gradually drifted apart. She knewshe bored me if she asked me to inspect a model dwelling; I knew shehated the people who were the companions of a coaching tour or a week atGoodwood. Unfortunately, we were not blessed with offspring. Had it beenotherwise, we might have found a common object of interest in ourchildren.
Insensibly, we agreed to a separate existence. We lived together asfriends rather than as husband and wife. We parted without regret andmet without cordiality. Do not think we were unhappy. If our marriagewas not bliss, it was at least comfortable. I think my wife was proud ofmy successes on the turf in a quiet kind of way, and I certainly wasproud of her and of the high reputation she enjoyed among all classes ofsociety. I even reverenced her for it, and I well knew that theenthusiastic receptions given us by our Yorkshire tenantry were not dueto my efforts in their behalf, but to hers.
So we lived for nearly six years, and so we might have continued forsixty had I not met Gwendoline Mensmore again, under vastly changedcircumstances. She was a chorus-girl in a variety theatre, earning apoor living under wretched conditions. I discovered the fact by merechance.
I met her, and she told me her story--how she had married a man namedHillmer, whom her father had trusted, and whom she believed to be ableto save them from ruin. Then the crash came. Her father died; herhusband also broke down financially, took to drink and ill-treated her;her brother was swallowed up somewhere in the Far West. She had noalternative but to live apart from her husband and try to supportherself by the first career that suggests itself to a young, talented,and beautiful woman. But she was already weary of the stage and itsdistasteful surroundings. Her nature was too delicate for the rudefriendships of the dressing-room. She shuddered at the thought of a mildcarousal in a bar when the labors of the night were ended.
In a word, were I differently constituted, were she cast in more commonmould, there was apparently ready to hand all the material for a vulgar_liaison_.
My respect for my wife, however, no less than Mrs. Hillmer's finedisposition, saved both of us from folly. Yet I could not leave herexposed to the exigencies of a life in which she was rapidly becomingdisillusioned. Away in the depths of my heart I knew that this sweetwoman was my true mate, separated from me by adverse chance. There wasnothing unfair to Alice in the thought. Were she questioned at any time,I suppose, she must have admitted that we were, in some respects, asill-matched a couple as we were well-matched in others. You will saythat I understood but little of feminine nature--nothing at all of mywife's.
How best to help Mrs. Hillmer--that was the question. It was at thisstage I made the initial mistake to which I can, too late, trace a hostof succeeding misfortunes. I did not consult my wife. Trying now toanalyze my reasons for this lamentable error of judgment I imagined thatit arose from some absurd disinclination on my part to admit that I wentto the stage-door of a theatre to inquire about the identity of a youngwoman whom I had recognized from the front of the house.
Don't you see, my dear Bruce, it is almost as bad to fear your wife asto suspect her.
As, at that time, my own life was free from the slightest cloud ofsorrow, I took keen interest in the troubles of Mrs. Hillmer, and Iamused myself by playing, in her behalf, the part of a modern magician.I felt intuitively that she would resent any direct at
tempt on my partto place funds at her disposal, and I found a great deal of harmless funin helping her with her consent, but without her actual knowledge.
I am, as you know, a rich man. At this hour I cannot sum up my availableassets to within L100,000. Altogether I must be worth nearly a millionsterling--yet my money cannot purchase me another day's existence suchas I would tolerate. Strange, is it not?
Well, the close of the year before last was a period of unexampledactivity on the Stock Exchange, and, by way of a joke, I made somepurchases on Mrs. Hillmer's account, with the intention of pretending topay myself out of the profits, while handing her such balances as mightaccrue. She is a shrewd woman, and quick at figures, so I might haveexperienced some difficulty in deceiving her. But the mad record of thepast twelve months was in no wise belied by its inception. My purchaseswere those of a man inspired by the Goddess of Fortune. Stocks which Ibought commenced suddenly to inflate. I astounded my brokers by themanner in which I ferreted out neglected bonds, mines which struck themother lode next week, railway companies whose directors were even thensecretly conspiring to water the stock.
Mrs. Hillmer became infected with the craze like myself. Twice weplunged heavily in American Rails and came out triumphantly. To end thispart of my story, after five months of excitement I had contrived notonly to swell my own deposits to a large extent, but I had secured onMrs. Hillmer's account a sufficient quantity of reliable stock to bringher in an average income of L1,500 per annum.
My greatest difficulty was to persuade Mrs. Hillmer to break off thehabit of speculation once she had contracted it. I found that sheperused the late editions of the evening papers with the same eagernessthat a bookmaker looks for the starting prices of the day's races. Bythe exercise of firmness and tact I was able to stop her from furtherdealings.
At the close of this period I need hardly say that two things hadhappened. Mrs. Hillmer and I were fast friends, with common objects andinterests in life; and, concurrently, the ties between Alice and myselfhad loosened still more.
I also carelessly made another blunder. Under the pretence that secrecywas requisite for Stock Exchange transactions, I persuaded Mrs. Hillmerto allow me to pass under the name of Colonel Montgomery.
Mrs. Hillmer, of course, was now able to live in comparative luxury. Icame to regard her house as an abode of rest. I was more at home in herdrawing-room than in my own house. She often spoke to me of my wife, andobviously wished to see her, but here I did a cowardly thing. Irepresented my married existence as far less comfortable than it reallywas, and gradually Mrs. Hillmer ceased all allusion to Alice. Shemisunderstood our relations. I knew it, and did not explain. Not a veryworthy proceeding for a man whose sense of honor is so keen that heprefers death to disgrace. But one can deceive no other so easily asoneself.
Occasionally, when opportunities offered, we went out together. It wasfoolish, you will say, and I agree with you. If folly were not pleasantit would not be so fashionable. But, to this hour, the relations betweenus are those only of close friendship. Never in my life have I addressedher by other than her married name, never have I touched her arm save byway of casual politeness.
I really think I flattered myself upon my superior virtues. I could seeall the excellence but none of the stupidity of my behavior.
About this time, Mrs. Hillmer's husband died. Thenceforth she becameslightly reserved in manner. When life was a defiance she foughtconvention, but with safety came prudence. In fact, she told me that myfrequent visits to her house would certainly be ill-construed if theybecame known. I was seeking for a pretext to introduce her to her ownset in society, when a double catastrophe occurred.
My wife discovered, as she imagined, that I was clandestinely occupiedwith another woman, and Mrs. Hillmer's brother returned from America.
It will best serve my hurried narrative if I relate events exactly asthey happened, and not as they look in the light of subsequentknowledge.
Mensmore was naturally astounded to find his sister so well providedfor, and gratefully accepted the help she gave him towards resuscitatinghis own fortunes. But it did not occur to either of us that he wouldtake the ordinary view of the bond existing between us, and I shallnever forget his rage when he found out that I was not known to hissister's servants by my right name. It was an awkward position for allthree. He was loth to allege that which we did not feel called upon todeny. But between him and me there was a marked coolness, arising fromsuspicion on his part and resentment on mine, coupled, I must add, withan unquiet consciousness that his attitude was not wholly unreasonable.
Mrs. Hillmer and he discussed the matter several times. He urged thatthis compromising friendship should be discontinued. She--a determinedwoman when her mind was made up--fought the suggestion on the ground ofunfairness, though, like myself, she would have been glad of anyaccident which would alter the position of affairs.
He interpreted her opposition to different motives. Finally, as hisfinancial position was a dangerous one, as we afterwards learned, and hedespaired of setting things straight in Raleigh Mansions--judging themfrom his own point of view--he resolved to leave England again.
And now I come to the night of November 6.
It was, as you will remember, a foggy and unpleasant day. I had somebusiness in the city which detained me until darkness set in. I had notseen Mrs. Hillmer for two days, so I resolved to drive to SloaneSquare--travelling by the Underground was intolerable in suchweather--and have tea with her.
I did not know then that she had gone with her maid toBrighton--intending to return that evening. It was a sudden whim, shetold me subsequently, and she had not even informed the other servantsof her intention.
The pavements in the City were slimy with the dampness of the fog, andas an empty four-wheeler passed through Cornhill I hailed it, a mostunusual choice on my part. The cabman, I noticed, was fairly elevated,but as these fellows often drive better when drunk than sober, I simplytold him to be careful, and jumped in. I reached Sloane Square allright, and detained the cab for my intended journey home in time fordinner.
At the door of Mrs. Hillmer's flat I met the cook and housemaid, bothgoing out to do some shopping, probably, in the spare hour before it wastime to prepare dinner.
They knew me well, of course, and admitted me to the drawing-room,telling me that Mrs. Hillmer was out, but would surely return very soon.
I had not been in the room a minute before the sharp double knock of atelegraph messenger brought the coachman, whom the girls left in chargeof the house, to the door, and I startled the man by appearing in thehall, as he did not know of my presence.
"What is it, Simmonds?" I said, as I correctly guessed the message to befrom Mrs. Hillmer.
"The missus is in Brighton, sir," he answered. "She wants the carriageto meet her at Victoria at seven o'clock. It's six now, and I ought togo around to the stables at once, but both these blessed girls have goneout. I'm in a fair fix."
"No fix at all," I said. "I want to see Mrs. Hillmer, so I will waithere until she arrives--or, at all events, till the servants come back."
The man scratched his head, but he could think of no better plan, so he,too, went off, and I was left alone, for the first time in my life, inMrs. Hillmer's abode. It is the small events that govern our lives,Claude, not those that stand out prominently. The shopping expedition ofa couple of servant girls, intent on securing a new cap or a few yardsof calico, brought about my wife's death, caused misery to many people,and ends, I sincerely hope, in my own speedy leap into oblivion.
I picked up a novel, "Tess of the D'Urbervilles," hit upon the terribleepisode that culminates on Salisbury Plain, and was soon deeplyinterested, when another knock--this time an imperative summons longdrawn out--caused me to hasten to the door.
I opened it, and in the dim light of the staircase landing, for a seconddid not recognize the lady who stood outside. Heaven help me, I was soonenlightened. My wife's voice was bitterly contemptuous as she said:
"You don't
keep a footman, it appears, in your new establishment,Charles."
Had I been suddenly struck blind, or paralyzed, I could not have beenmore dumfounded than by Alice's unexpected appearance. A thoroughscoundrel might, perhaps, have thought of the best thing to say. Iblurted out the worst.
"What are you doing _here_?" I stammered when my tongue recovered itsuse.
"No doubt you resent my appearance," she cried, in a high, shrill tone Ihad never before heard from her, "but I shall not trouble you further. Imerely came to confirm with my own eyes what my ears refused toentertain. Now, I am satisfied."
She half turned with the intention of reaching the street, but, rendereddesperate by the absurdity of my position, I gripped her arm and pulledher forcibly into the entrance-hall, closing and bolting the door behindus.
"You have seen too much not to see more," I cried. "I will not allow youto ruin both our lives by a mere suspicion."
She was in a furious temper, but her sense of propriety--for she did notknow that the servants' quarters were empty--restrained her until we hadboth entered the drawing-room.
Then she burst upon me with a torrent of words.
