by Fergus Hume
CHAPTER XX
MOTHER JAEL
Doctor Graham was not the man to fail in carrying through successfullyany scheme he undertook, and what he had promised the bishop he dulyfulfilled. After a rather lengthy interview with Mrs Pendle and herdaughter, he succeeded in arousing their interest in Nauheim and itsbaths: so much so, that before he left the palace they were as eager togo as formerly they had been to stay. This seeming miracle wasaccomplished mainly by a skilful appeal to Mrs Pendle's love forexperimenting with new medical discoveries in connection with herhealth. She had never tried the Schott treatment for heart dilation, andindeed had heard very little about it; but when fully informed on thesubject, her interest in it was soon awakened. She soon came to look onthe carbolic spring of Nauheim as the true fountain of youth, and wassanguine that by bathing for a few weeks in its life-giving waters shewould return to Beorminster hale and hearty, and full of vitality. Ifever Hope told a flattering tale, she did to Mrs Pendle through the lipsof cunning Dr Graham.
'I thought you knew nothing about new medicines or treatments,' sheobserved graciously; 'or, if you did, that you were too conservative toprescribe them. I see I was wrong.'
'You were decidedly wrong, Mrs Pendle. It is only a fool who ceases toacquire knowledge and benefit by it. I am not a cabbage although I dolive in a vegetable garden.'
Lucy's consent was gained through the glowing description of the benefither mother would receive from the Nauheim waters, and the opportunearrival of Sir Harry Brace contributed to the wished-for result. Theardent lover immediately declared his willingness to escort Lucy to theworld's end. Wherever Lucy was, the Garden of Eden blossomed; and whileMrs Pendle was being pickled and massaged and put to bed forrecuperative slumbers, he hoped to have his future wife all to himself.In her sweet company even the dull little German watering-place wouldprove a Paradise. Cupid is the sole miracle-worker in these days ofscepticism.
'It is all right, bishop!' said the victorious doctor. 'The ladies willbe off, with Brace in attendance, as soon as they can pack up a waggonload of feminine frippery.'
'I am sincerely glad to hear it,' said Dr Pendle, and heaved a sigh ofrelief which made Graham wag his head and put in a word of advice.
'You must take a trip yourself, my lord,' he said decisively; 'nothinglike change for mental worry. Go to Bath, or Putney, or Jericho, bishop;travel is your anodyne.'
'I cannot leave Beorminster just now, Graham. When I can I shall takeyour advice.'
The doctor shrugged his shoulders and walked towards the door. There hepaused and looked back at the unhappy face of the bishop. A thoughtstruck him and he returned.
'Pendle,' he said gently, 'I am your oldest friend and one who honoursand respects you above all men. Why not tell me your trouble and let mehelp you? I shall keep your secret, whatever it may be.'
'I have no fears on that score, Graham. If I could trust anyone I shouldtrust you; but I cannot tell you what is in my mind. No useful resultwould come of such candour, for only the One above can help me out of mydifficulties.'
'Is it money worries, bishop?'
'No, my worldly affairs are most prosperous.'
'It is not this murder that is troubling you, I suppose?'
The bishop became as pale as the paper on the desk before him, andconvulsively clutched the arms of his chair. 'The--the murder!' hestammered, 'the murder, Graham. Why should that trouble me?'
'Cargrim told me that you were greatly upset that such a thing shouldhave occurred in your diocese.'
'I am annoyed about it,' replied Pendle, in a low voice, 'but it is notthe untimely death of that unhappy man which worries me.'
'Then I give it up,' said the doctor, with another shrug.
'Graham!'
'Yes, what is it?'
'Do you think that there is any chance of the murderer of this man beingdiscovered?'
'If the case had been handled by a London detective while the clues werefresh I daresay there might have been a chance,' replied the doctor.'But that mutton-headed Tinkler has made such a muddle of the affairthat I am certain the murderer will never be captured.'
'Has anything new been discovered since the inquest?'
'Nothing. So far as I know, Tinkler is satisfied and the matter is at anend. Whosoever killed Jentham has only his own conscience to fear.'
'And God!' said the bishop, softly.
'I always understood that what you Churchmen call conscience was thestill small voice of the Deity,' replied Graham, drily; 'there is no usein being tautological, bishop. Well, good-day, my lord.'
'Good-day, doctor, and many, many thanks for your kindly help.'
'Not at all. I only wish that you would let me help you to some purposeby treating me as your friend and unburdening your mind. There is onegreat truth that you should become a convert to, bishop.'
'Ay, ay, what is that?' said Pendle, listlessly.
'That medical men are the father-confessors of Protestantism. Good-day!'
Outside the library Cargrim was idling about, in the hope of picking upsome crumbs of information, when Graham took his departure. But thelittle doctor, who was not in the best of tempers for anotherconversation, shot past the chaplain like a bolt from the bow; and bythe time Cargrim recovered from such brusque treatment was half-way downthe avenue, fuming and fretting at his inability to understand theattitude of Bishop Pendle. Dr Graham loved a secret as a magpie does apiece of stolen money, and he was simply frantic to find out what vexedhis friend; the more so as he believed that he could help him to bearhis trouble by sympathy, and perhaps by advice do away with italtogether. He could not even make a guess at the bishop's hiddentrouble, and ran over all known crimes in his mind, from murder toarson, without coming to any conclusion. Yet something extraordinarymust be the matter to move so easy-going, healthy a man as Dr Pendle.
'I know more of his life than most people,' thought Graham, as hetrotted briskly along, 'and there is nothing in it that I can see toupset him so. He hasn't forged, or coined, or murdered, or sold himselfto Pluto-Pan Satan so far as I know; and he is too clear-headed and saneto have a monomania about a non-existent trouble. Dear, dear,' thedoctor shook his head sadly, 'I shall never understand human nature;there is always an abyss below an abyss, and the firmest seeming groundis usually quagmire when you come to step on it. George Pendle is ariddle which would puzzle the Sphinx. Hum! hum! another fabulous beast.Well, well, I can only wait and watch until I discover the truth, andthen--well, what then?--why, nothing!' And Graham, having talked himselfinto a _cul-de-sac_ of thought, shook his head furiously and strove todismiss the matter from his too inquisitive mind. But not all hisphilosophy and will could accomplish the impossible. 'We are a finitelot of fools,' said he, 'and when we think we know most we know least.How that nameless Unseen Power must smile at our attempts to scale thestars,' by which remark it will be seen that Dr Graham was not theatheist Beorminster believed him to be. And here may end hisspeculations for the present.
Shortly, Mrs Pendle and Lucy began to pack a vast number of boxes withgarments needful and ornamental, and sufficient in quantity to last themfor at least twelve months. It is true that they intended to remain awayonly eight weeks, but the preparations for departure were worthy of thestarting out of a crusade. They must take this; they could certainly notleave that; warm dresses were needed for possible cold weather; coolfrocks were requisite for probable hot days; they must have smartdresses as they would no doubt go out a great deal; and three or fourtea-gowns each, as they might stay indoors altogether. In short, theirstock of millinery would have clothed at least half-a-dozen women,although both ladies protested plaintively that they had absolutelynothing to wear, and that it would be necessary to go shopping in Londonfor a few days, if only to make themselves look presentable. HarryBrace, the thoughtless bachelor, was struck dumb when he saw the immensequantity of luggage which went off in and on a bus to the railwaystation in the charge of a nurse and a lady's-maid.
'Oh, Lord!' said he, agh
ast, 'are we starting out on an Africanexpedition, Lucy?'
'Well, I'm sure, Harry, mamma and I are only taking what is absolutelynecessary. Other women would take twice as much.'
'Wait until you and Lucy leave for your honeymoon, Brace,' said thebishop, with a smile at his prospective son-in-law's long face. 'Shewill be one of the other women then.'
'In that case,' said Harry, a trifle grimly, 'Lucy will have to decideif I am to go as a bridegroom or a luggage agent.'
Of course all Beorminster knew that Mrs Pendle was going to Nauheim forthe treatment; and of course all Beorminster--that is, the feminineportion of it--came to take tender farewells of the travellers. Everyday up to the moment of departure Mrs Pendle's drawing-room was crowdedwith ladies all relating their experiences of English and Continentaltravelling. Lucy took leave of at least a dozen dear friends; and fromthe way in which Mrs Pendle was lamented over, and blessed, and warned,and advised by the wives of the inferior clergy, one would have thoughtthat her destination was the moon, and that she would never get backagain. Altogether the palace was no home for a quiet prelate in thosedays.
At the last moment Mrs Pendle found that she would be wretched if herbishop did not accompany her some way on the journey; so Dr Pendle wentwith the travellers to London, and spent a pleasant day or so, beinghurried about from shop to shop. If he had not been the most angelicbishop in England he would have revolted; but as he was anxious that hiswife should have no cause of complaint, he exhausted himself with theutmost amiability. But the longest lane has a turning, and the day camewhen Mrs Pendle and Lucy, attended by the dazed Harry, left for Nauheim_via_ Queenborough, Flushing and Cologne. Mrs Pendle declared, as thetrain moved away, that she was thoroughly exhausted, which statement thebishop quite believed. His wonder was that she and Lucy were not deadand buried.
On returning to the empty palace, Bishop Pendle settled himself down fora long rest. Remembering Graham's hint, he saw as little of Cargrim aswas compatible with the relationship of business. The chaplain notedthat he was being avoided, and guessing that someone had placed DrPendle on his guard against him, became more secretive and watchful thanever. But in spite of all his spying he met with little success, foralthough the bishop still continued weary-eyed and worried-looking, hewent about his work with more zest than usual. Indeed, he attended soclosely to the duties of his position that Cargrim fancied he was tryingto forget his wickedness by distracting his mind. But, as usual, thechaplain had no tangible reason for this belief.
And about this time, when most industrious, the bishop began to behaunted, not by a ghost, which would have been bearable as ghosts appearusually only in the nighttime, but by a queer little old woman in a redcloak, who supported herself with a crutch and looked like a wickedfairy. This, as the bishop ascertained by a casual question, was MotherJael, the gipsy friend of Jentham, and the knowledge of her identity didnot make him the easier in his mind. He could not conceive what shemeant by her constant attendance on him; and but that he believed in thewisdom of letting sleeping dogs lie, he would have resented herpertinacity. The sight of her became almost insupportable.
Whether Mother Jael intended to terrify the bishop or not it is hard tosay, but the way in which she followed him tormented him beyond measure.When he left the palace she was there on the road; when he preached inthe cathedral she lurked among the congregation; when he strolled aboutBeorminster she watched him round corners, but she never approached him,she never spoke to him, and frequently vanished as mysteriously andunexpectedly as she appeared. Wherever he went, wherever he looked, thatcrimson cloak was sure to meet his eye. Mother Jael was old and bent andwitch-like, with elf locks of white hair and a yellow, wrinkled face;but her eyes burned like two fiery stars under her frosted brows, andwith these she stared hard at Bishop Pendle, until he felt almostmesmerised by the intensity of her gaze. She became a perfect nightmareto the man, much the same as the little old woman of the coffer was toAbudah, the merchant in the fantastic eastern tale; but, unlike thatpertinacious beldam, she apparently had no message to deliver. She onlystared and stared with her glittering, evil eyes, until the bishop--hisnerves not being under control with this constant persecution--almostfancied that the powers of darkness had leagued themselves against him,and had sent this hell-hag to haunt and torment him.
Several times he strove to speak to her, for he thought that even theproverb of sleeping dogs might be acted upon too literally; but MotherJael always managed to shuffle out of the way. She appeared to have thepower of disintegrating her body, for where she disappeared to on theseoccasions the bishop never could find out. One minute he would see herin her red cloak, leaning on her crutch and staring at him steadily, butlet him take one step in her direction and she would vanish like aghost. No wonder the bishop's nerves began to give way; the constantsight of that silent figure with its menacing gaze would have drivenmany a man out of his mind, but Dr Pendle resisted the panic whichseized him at times, and strove to face the apparition--for MotherJael's flittings deserved such a name--with control and calmness. Butthe effort was beyond his strength at times.
As the weeks went by, Cargrim also began to notice the persecution ofMother Jael, and connecting her with Jentham and Jentham with thebishop, he began to wonder if she knew the truth about the murder. Itwas not improbable, he thought, that she might be possessed of moreimportant knowledge than she had imparted to the police, and a singleword from her might bring home the crime to the bishop. If he wasinnocent, why did she haunt him? But again, if he was guilty, why didshe avoid him? To gain an answer to this riddle, Cargrim attempted whenpossible to seize the elusive phantom of Mother Jael, but three or fourtimes she managed to vanish in her witch-like way. At length one daywhen she was watching the bishop talking to the dean at the northerndoor of the cathedral, Cargrim came softly behind her and seized herarm. Mother Jael turned with a squeak like a trapped rabbit.
'Why do you watch the bishop?' asked Cargrim, sharply.
'Bless ye, lovey, I don't watch 'im,' whined Mother Jael, cringing.
'Nonsense, I've seen you look at him several times.'
'There ain't no harm in that, my lamb. They do say as a cat kin look ata queen; and why not a pore gipsy at a noble bishop? I say, dearie,' sheadded, in a hoarse whisper, 'what's his first name?'
'The bishop's first name? George. Why do you want to know?'
'George!' pondered Mother Jael, taking no notice of the question, 'Iallays though' the sojir was George!'
'He is George too, called after his father. Answer me! Why do you wantto know the bishop's name? and why do you watch him?'
'Ah, my noble Gorgio, that's tellings!'
'No doubt, so just tell it to me.'
'Lord, lovey! the likes of you don't want to know what the likes of methinks.'
Cargrim lost his temper at these evasions. 'You are a bad character,Mother Jael. I shall warn the police about you.'
'Oh, tiny Jesius, hear him! I ain't done nothing wrong. I'm a pore oldgipsy; strike me dead if I ain't.'
'If you tell me something,' said Cargrim, changing his tactics, 'youshall have this,' and he produced a coin.
Mother Jael eyed the bright half-sovereign he held between finger andthumb, and her old eyes glistened. 'Yes, dearie, yes! What is it?'
'Tell me the truth about the murder,' whispered Cargrim, with a glancein the direction of the bishop.
Mother Jael gave a shrill screech, grabbed the half-sovereign, andshuffled away so rapidly that she was round the corner before Cargrimcould recover from his surprise. At once he followed, but in spite ofall his search he could not find the old hag. Yet she had her eye onhim.
'George! and George!' said Mother Jael, who was watching him from an oddangle of the wall into which she had squeezed herself, 'I wonder whichof 'em did it?'
