by Fergus Hume
CHAPTER XXII
MR MOSK IS INDISCREET
While the bishop was conversing with Miss Whichello about the engagementof George and Mab, the young people themselves were discussing theself-same subject with much ardour. Captain Pendle had placed two chairsnear a quick-set hedge, beyond the hearing of other guests, and on thesehe and Mab were seated as closely as was possible without attracting theeyes of onlookers. Their attitude and actions were guarded andindifferent for the misleading of the company, but their conversation,not being likely to be overheard, was confidential and lover-likeenough. No spectator from casual observation could have guessed theirsecret.
'You must tell your father about our engagement at once,' said Mab, withdecision. 'He should have known of it before I consented to wear thisring.'
'I'll tell him to-morrow, dearest, although I am sorry that Lucy and themater are not here to support me.'
'But you don't think that he will object to me, George?'
'I--should--think--not!' replied Captain Pendle, smiling at the veryidea; 'object to have the prettiest daughter-in-law in the county. Youdon't know what an eye for beauty the bishop has.'
'If you are so sure of his consent I wonder you did not tell himbefore,' pouted Mab. 'Aunty has been very angry at my keeping ourengagement secret.'
'Darling, you know it isn't a secret. We told Cargrim, and when he isaware of it the whole town is. I didn't want to tell my father until Iwas sure you would marry me.'
'You have been sure of that for a long time.'
'In a sort of way,' asserted Captain Pendle; 'but I was not absolutelycertain until I placed a ring on that pretty hand. Now I'll tell myfather, get his episcopalian benediction, and wire the news to Lucy andthe mater. We shall be married in spring. Miss Whichello will be thebridesmaid, and all will be hay and sunshine.'
'What nonsense you talk, George!'
'I'd do more than talk nonsense if the eyes of Europe were not on us.Mother Jael is telling fortunes in that tent, my fairy queen, so let usgo in and question her about the future. Besides,' added George, with aninsinuating smile, 'I don't suppose she would mind if I gave you onekiss.'
Mab laughed and shook her head. 'You will have to dispense with bothkiss and fortune for the present,' said she, 'for your father has thismoment gone into the tent.'
'What! is Saul also among the prophets?' cried George, with upliftedeyebrows. 'Won't there be a shine in the tents of Shem when it ispublished abroad that Bishop Pendle has patronised the Witch of Endor. Iwonder what he wants to know. Surely the scroll of his fortune is madeup.'
'George,' said Mab, gravely, 'your father has been much worried lately.'
'About what? By whom?'
'I don't know, but he looks worried.'
'Oh, he is fidgeting because my mother is away; he always fusses abouther health like a hen with one chick.'
'Be more respectful, my dear,' corrected Mab, demurely.
'I'll be anything you like, sweet prude, if you'll only fly with me farfrom this madding crowd. Hang it! here is someone coming to disturb us.'
'It is your brother.'
'So it is. Hullo, Gabriel, why that solemn brow?'
'I have just heard bad news,' said Gabriel, pausing before them. 'Old MrLeigh is dying.'
'What! the rector of Heathcroft? I don't call that bad news, old boy,seeing that his death gives you your step.'
'George!' cried Mab and Gabriel in a breath, 'how can you?'
'Well, Leigh is old and ripe enough to die, isn't he?' said theincorrigible George. 'Remember what the old Scotch sexton said to theweeping mourners, "What are ye greeting aboot? If ye dinna bring themat eighty, when wull ye bring them?" My Scotch accent is bad,' addedCaptain Pendle, 'but the story itself is a thing of beauty.'
'I want to tell my father the news,' said Gabriel, indignantly turningaway from George's wink. 'Where is he?'
'With Moth--Oh, there he is,' cried Mab, as the bishop issued from thesibyl's tent. 'Oh, George, how ill he looks!'
'By Jove, yes! He is as pale as a ghost. Come and see what is wrong,Gabriel. Excuse me a moment, Mab.'
The two brothers walked forward, but before they could reach theirfather he was already taking his leave and shaking hands with MrsPansey. His face was white, his eyes were anxious, and it was only bysheer force of will that he could excuse himself to his hostess in hisordinary voice.
'I am afraid the sun has been too much for me, Mrs Pansey,' he said inhis usual sauve tones, 'and the close atmosphere of that tent is rathertrying. I regret being obliged to leave so charming a scene, but I feelsure you will excuse me.'
'Certainly, bishop,' said Mrs Pansey, graciously enough, 'but won't youhave a glass of sherry or--'
'Nothing, thank you; nothing. Good-bye, Mrs Pansey; your _fete_ has beenmost successful. Ah, Gabriel,' catching sight of his youngest son, 'willyou be so good as to come with me?'
'Are you ill, sir?' asked George, with solicitude.
'No, no! a little out of sorts, perhaps. The sun, merely the sun;' andwaving his hand in a hurried manner, Dr Pendle withdrew as quickly ashis dignity permitted, leaning on Gabriel's arm. The curate's face wasas colourless as that of his father, and he seemed equally as nervous inmanner. Captain Pendle returned to Mab in a state of bewilderment, forwhich there was surely sufficient cause.
'I never saw the bishop so put out before,' said he with a puzzled look.'Old Mother Jael must have prophesied blue ruin and murder.'
Murder! The ominous word struck on the ears of Cargrim, who was passingat the moment, and he smiled cruelly as he heard the half-joking tone inwhich it was spoken. Captain George Pendle little thought that thechaplain took his jesting speech in earnest, and was more convincedthan ever that the bishop had killed Jentham, and had just been warnedby Mother Jael that she knew the truth. This then, as Cargrimconsidered, was her reason for haunting the bishop in his incomings andoutgoings.
Of course it was impossible that the bishop's agitation could haveescaped the attention of the assembled guests, and many remarks weremade as to its probable cause. His sudden illness at his own receptionwas recalled, and, taken in conjunction with this seizure, it wasobserved that Dr Pendle was working too hard, that his constitution wasbreaking up and that he sadly needed a rest. The opinion on this lastpoint was unanimous.
'For I will say,' remarked Mrs Pansey, who was an adept at damning withfaint praise, 'that the bishop works as hard as his capacity of brainwill let him.'
'And that is a great deal,' said Dr Graham, tartly. 'Bishop Pendle isone of the cleverest men in England.'
'That is right, doctor,' replied the undaunted Mrs Pansey. 'Always speakwell of your patients.'
Altogether, so high stood the bishop's reputation as a transparentlyhonest man that no one suspected anything was wrong save Graham and MrCargrim. The former remembered Dr Pendle's unacknowledged secret, andwondered if the gipsy was in possession of it, while the latter wassatisfied that the bishop had been driven away by the fears roused byMother Jael's communication, whatever that might be. But the generalopinion was that too much work and too much sun had occasioned thebishop's illness, and it was spoken of very lightly as a mere temporaryailment soon to be set right by complete change and complete rest. ThusDr Pendle's reputation of the past stood him in good stead, and savedhis character thoroughly in the present.
'Now,' said Cargrim to himself, 'I know for certain that Mother Jael isaware of the truth, also that the truth implicates the bishop inJentham's death. I shall just go in and question her at once. She can'tescape from that tent so easily as she vanished the other day.'
But Cargrim quite underrated Mother Jael's power of making herselfscarce, for when he entered the tent he found it tenanted only by DaisyNorsham, who was looking in some bewilderment at an empty chair. Thecunning old gipsy had once more melted into thin air.
'Where is she?' demanded Cargrim, regretting that his clerical garbprevented him from using appropriate language.
'Oh, really, dear Mr Ca
rgrim, I don't know. After the dear bishop cameout so upset with the heat, we all ran to look after him, so I supposeMother Jael felt the heat also, and left while our backs were turned. Itis really very vexing,' sighed Daisy, 'for lots of girls are simplydying to have their fortunes told. And, oh!' making a sudden discovery,'how very, very dreadful!'
'What is it?' asked the chaplain, staring at her tragic face.
'That wicked old woman has taken all the money. Oh, poor Mrs Pansey'shome!'
'She has no doubt run off with the money,' said Cargrim, in what was forhim a savage tone. 'I must question the servants about her departure.Miss Norsham, I am afraid that your beautiful nature has been imposedupon by this deceitful vagrant.'
Whether this was so or not, one thing was clear that Mother Jael hadgone off with a considerable amount of loose silver in her pocket. Theservants knew nothing of her departure, so there was no doubt that theold crone, used to dodging and hiding, had slipped out of the garden bysome back way, while the guests had been commiserating the bishop'sslight illness. As Cargrim wanted to see the gipsy at once, and hoped toforce her into confessing the truth by threatening to have her arrestedwith the stolen money in her pocket, he followed on her trail while itwas yet fresh. Certainly Mother Jael had left no particular track bywhich she could be traced, but Cargrim, knowing something of her habits,judged that she would either strike across Southberry Heath to the tentsof her tribe or take refuge for the time being at The Derby Winner. Itwas more probable that she would go to the hotel than run the risk ofbeing arrested in the gipsy camp, so Cargrim, adopting this argument,took his way down to Eastgate. He hoped to run Mother Jael to earth inthe tap-room of the hotel.
On arriving at The Derby Winner, he walked straight into the bar, andfound it presided over by a grinning pot-boy. A noise of singing andshouting came from the little parlour at the back, and when the chaplainasked for Mr Mosk, he was informed by the smiling Ganymede that 'th'guv'nor was injiyin' of hisself, and goin' on like one o'clock.'
'Dear! dear!' said the scandalised chaplain, 'am I to understand thatyour master has taken more than is good for him?'
'Yuss; he's jist drunk up to jollyness, sir.'
'And Miss Mosk?'
'She's a-tryin' to git 'im t' bed, is young missus, an' old missus iscryin' upstairs.'
'I shall certainly speak about this to the authorities,' said Cargrim,in an angry tone. 'You are sober enough to answer my questions, I hope?'
'Yuss, sir; I'm strite,' growled the pot-boy, pulling his forelock.
'Then tell me if that gipsy woman, Mother Jael, is here?'
'No, sir, sh' ain't. I ain't set eyes on 'er for I do'no how long.'
The man spoke earnestly enough, and was evidently telling the truth.Much disappointed to find that the old crone was not in theneighbourhood, the chaplain was about to depart when he heard Mosk beginto sing in a husky voice, and also became aware that Bell, as he judgedfrom the raised tones of her voice, was scolding her father thoroughly.His sense of duty got the better of his anxiety to find Mother Jael, andfeeling that his presence was required, he passed swiftly to the back ofthe house, and threw open the door of the parlour with fine clericalindignation.
'What is all this noise, Mosk?' he cried sharply. 'Do you wish to loseyour license?'
Mosk, who was seated in an arm-chair, smiling and singing, with a veryred face, was struck dumb by the chaplain's sudden entrance and sharprebuke. Bell, flushed and angered, was also astonished to see MrCargrim, but hailed his arrival with joy as likely to have some moralinfluence on her riotous father. Personally she detested Cargrim, butshe respected his cloth, and was glad to see him wield the thunders ofhis clerical position.
'That is right, Mr Cargrim!' she cried with flashing eyes. 'Tell him heought to be ashamed of drinking and singing with mother so illupstairs.'
'I don't mean t'do any 'arm,' said Mosk, rising sheepishly, for theshock of Cargrim's appearance sobered him a good deal. 'I wos jus'havin' a glass to celebrate a joyful day.'
'Cannot you take your glass without becoming intoxicated?' said Cargrim,in disgust. 'I tell you what, Mosk, if you go on in this way, I shallmake it my business to warn Sir Harry Brace against you.'
'I told you how t'would be, father,' put in Bell, reproachfully.
'You onnatural child, goin' agin your parent,' growled Mr Mosk. 'Wasn'tI drinking to your health, 'cause the old 'un at Heathcroft wos passin'to his long 'ome? Tell me that!'
'What do you mean, Mosk?' asked the chaplain, starting.
'Nothing, sir,' interposed Bell, hurriedly. 'Father don't know what heis sayin'.'
'Yes, I do,' contradicted her father, sulkily. 'Old Mr Leigh, th' pass'nof Heathcroft, is dying, and when he dies you'll live at Heathcroftwith--'
'Father! father! hold your tongue!'
'With my son-in-law Gabriel!'
'Your--son-in-law,' gasped Cargrim, recoiling. 'Is--is your daughter thewife of young Mr Pendle?'
'No, I am not, Mr Cargrim,' cried Bell, nervously. 'It's father'snonsense.'
'It's Bible truth, savin' your presence,' said Mosk, striking the table.'Young Mr Pendle is engaged to marry you, ain't he? and he's goin' tohev the livin' of Heathcroft, ain't he? and old Leigh's a-dyin' fast,ain't he?'
'Go on, father, you've done it now,' said Bell, resignedly, and satdown.
Cargrim was almost too surprised to speak. The rector ofHeathcroft--dying; Gabriel engaged to marry this common woman. He lookedfrom one to the other in amazement; at the triumphant Mosk, and theblushing girl.
'Is this true, Miss Mosk?' he asked doubtfully.
'Yes! I am engaged to marry Gabriel Pendle,' cried Bell, with a toss ofher head. 'You can tell the whole town so if you like. Neither he nor Iwill contradict you.'
'It's as true as true!' growled Mosk. 'My daughter's going to be alady.'
'I congratulate you both,' said Cargrim, gravely. 'This will be asurprise to the bishop,' and feeling himself unequal to the situation,he made his escape.
'Well, father,' said Bell, 'this is a pretty kettle of fish, this is!'
