by Fergus Hume
CHAPTER XXXII
THE INITIALS
As has before been stated, Dr Graham had another conversation with hispersecuted friend, in which he advised him to tolerate the presence ofCargrim until Baltic captured the actual criminal. It was also at thissecond interview that the bishop asked Graham if he should tell Georgethe truth. This question the little doctor answered promptly in thenegative.
'For what is the use of telling him?' said he, argumentatively; 'doingso will make you uncomfortable and George very unhappy.'
'But George must learn the truth sooner or later.'
'I don't see that it is necessary to inform him of it at all,' retortedGraham, obstinately, 'and at all events you need not explain untilforced to do so. One thing at a time, bishop. At present your task is tobaffle Cargrim and kick the scoundrel out of the house when the murdereris found. Then we can discuss the matter of the marriage with MrsPendle.'
'Graham!'--the bishop's utterance of the name was like a cry of pain--'Icannot--I dare not tell Amy!'
'You must, Pendle, since she is the principal person concerned in thematter. You know how Gabriel learned the truth from her casualdescription of her first husband. Well, when Mrs Pendle returns toBeorminster, she may--I don't say that she will, mind you--but she mayspeak of Krant again, since, so far as she is concerned, there is noneed for her to keep the fact of her first marriage secret.'
'Except that she may not wish to recall unhappy days,' put in thebishop, softly. 'Indeed, I wonder that Amy could bring herself to speakof Krant to her son and mine.'
'Women, my friend, do and say things at which they wonder themselves,'said the misogynist, cynically; 'probably Mrs Pendle acted on theimpulse of the moment and regretted it immediately the words were out ofher mouth. Still, she may describe Krant again when she comes back, andher listener may be as clever as Gabriel was in putting two and twotogether, and connecting your wife's first husband with Krant. Shouldsuch a thing occur--and it might occur--your secret would become thecommon property of this scandalmongering place, and your last conditionwould be worse than your first. Also,' continued Graham, with the air ofa person clinching an argument, 'if you and Mrs Pendle are to part, mypoor friend, she must be told the reason for such separation.'
'Part!' echoed the bishop, indignantly. 'My dear Amy and I shall neverpart, doctor. I wonder that you can suggest such a thing. Now that Krantis dead beyond all doubt, I shall marry his widow at once.'
'Quite so, and quite right,' assented Graham, emphatically; 'but in thatcase, as you can see for yourself, you must tell her that the firstmarriage is null and void, so as to account for the necessity of thesecond ceremony.' The doctor paused and reflected. 'Old scatterbrainthat I am,' said he, with a shrug, 'I quite forgot that way out of thedifficulty. A second marriage! Of course! and there is your riddlesolved.'
'No doubt, so far as Amy and I are concerned,' said Pendle, gloomily,'but so late a ceremony will not make my children legitimate. InEngland, marriage is not a retrospective act.'
'They manage these things better in France,' opined Graham, in themanner of Sterne; 'there a man can legitimise his children born out ofwedlock if he so chooses. There was a talk of modifying the English Actin the same way; but, of course, the very nice people with nasty ideasshrieked out in their usual pig-headed style about legalised immorality.However,' pursued the doctor, in a more cheerful tone, 'I do not seethat you need worry yourself on that point, bishop. You can depend uponGabriel and me holding our tongues; you need not tell Lucy or George,and when you marry your wife for the second time, all things can go onas before. "What the eye does not see, the heart does not grieve at,"you know.'
'But my eye sees, and my heart grieves,' groaned the bishop.
'Pish! don't make an inquisition of your conscience, Pendle. You havedone no wrong; like greatness, evil has been thrust upon you.'
'I am certainly an innocent sinner, Graham.'
'Of course you are; but now that we have found the remedy, that is allover and done with. Wait till Jentham's murderer is found, then turnCargrim out of doors, marry Mrs Krant in some out-of-the-way parish, andmake a fresh will in favour of your children. There you are, bishop!Don't worry any more about the matter.'
'You don't think that I should tell Brace that--?'
'I certainly don't think that you should disgrace your daughter in theeyes of her future husband,' retorted the doctor, hotly; 'marry yourwife and hold your tongue. Even the Recording Angel can take no note ofso obviously just a course.'
'I think you are right, Graham,' said the bishop, shaking his friend'shand with an expression of relief. 'In justice to my children, I must besilent. I shall act as you suggest.'
'Then that being so, you are a man again,' said Graham, jocularly, 'andnow you can send for George to pay you a visit.'
'Do you think there is any necessity, Graham? The sight of him--'
'Will do you good, Pendle. Don't martyrise yourself and look on yourchildren as so many visible evidences of sin. Bosh! I tell you, bosh!'cried the doctor, vigorously if ungallantly. 'Send for George, send forMrs Pendle and Lucy, and throw all these morbid ideas to the wind. Ifyou do not,' added Graham, raising a threatening finger, 'I shall writeout a certificate for the transfer of the cleverest bishop in England toa lunatic asylum.'
'Well, well, I won't risk that,' said the bishop, smiling. 'George shallcome back at once.'
'And all will be gas and gaiters, to quote the immortal Boz. Good-day,bishop! I have prescribed your medicine; see that you take it.'
'You are a tonic in yourself, Graham.'
'All men of sense are, Pendle. They are the salt of the earth, theoxygen in the moral atmosphere. If it wasn't for my common sense,bishop,' said the doctor, with a twinkle, 'I believe I should be weakenough to come and hear you preach.'
Dr Pendle laughed. 'I am afraid the age of miracles is past, my friend.As a bishop, I should reprove you, but--'
'But, as a good, sensible fellow, you'll take my advice. Well, well,bishop, I have had more obstinate patients than my college chum.Good-day, good-day,' and the little doctor skipped out of the librarywith a gay look and a merry nod, leaving the bishop relieved andsmiling, and devoutly thankful for the solution of his life's riddle. Atthat moment the noble verse of the Psalmist was in his mind and upon hislips--'God is our refuge and our strength: a very present help introuble.' Bishop Pendle was proving the truth of that text.
So the exiled lover was permitted to return to Beorminster, and verypleased he was to find himself once more in the vicinity of his beloved.After congratulating the bishop on his recovered cheerfulness andplacidity, George brought forward the name of Mab, and was pleased tofind that his father was by no means so opposed to the match asformerly. Dr Pendle admitted again that Mab was a singularly charmingyoung lady, and that his son might do worse than marry her. Late eventshad humbled the bishop's pride considerably; and the knowledge thatGeorge was nameless, induced him to consider Miss Arden more favourablyas a wife for the young man. She was at least a lady, and not a barmaidlike Bell Mosk; so the painful fact of Gabriel setting his heart so lowmade George's superior choice quite a brilliant match in comparison. Onthese grounds, the bishop intimated to Captain Pendle that, onconsideration, he was disposed to overlook the rumours about MissArden's disreputable father and accept her as a daughter-in-law. It waswith this joyful news that George, glowing and eager, as a lover shouldbe, made his appearance the next morning at the Jenny Wren house.
'Thank God the bishop is reasonable,' cried Miss Whichello, when Georgeexplained the new position. 'I knew that Mab would gain his heart in theend.'
'She gained mine in the beginning,' said Captain George, fondly, 'andthat, after all, is the principal thing.'
'What! your own heart, egotist! Does mine then count for nothing?'
'Oh!' said George, slipping his arm round her waist, 'if we begin onthat subject, my litany will be as long as the Athanasian Creed, andquite as devout.'
'Captain Pendle!' excla
imed Miss Whichello, scandalised both by embraceand speech--both rather trying to a religious spinster.
'Miss Whichello,' mimicked the gay lover, 'am I not to be received intothe family under the name of George?'
'That depends on your behaviour, Captain Pendle. But I am both pleasedand relieved that the bishop consents to the marriage.'
'Aunty!' cried Mab, reddening a trifle,'don't talk as though it were afavour. I do not look upon myself as worthless, by any means.'
'Worthless!' echoed George, gaily; 'then is gold mere dross, anddiamonds but pebbles. You are the beauty of the universe, my darling,and I your lowest slave.' He threw himself at her feet. 'Set your prettyfoot on my neck, my queen!'
'Captain Pendle,' said Miss Whichello, striving to stifle a laugh, 'ifyou don't get up and behave properly I shall leave the room.'
'If you do, aunty, he will get worse,' smiled Mab, ruffling what thebarber had left of her lover's hair. 'Get up at once, you--you madRomeo.'
George rose obediently, and dusted his knees. 'Juliet, I obey,' said he,tragically; 'but no, you are not Juliet of the garden; you areCleopatra! Semiramis! the most imperious and queenly of women. Where didyou get your rich eastern beauty from, Mab? What are you, an Arabianprincess, doing in our cold grey West? You are like some dark-browedqueen! A daughter of Bohemia! A Romany sorceress!'
Mab laughed, but Miss Whichello heaved a quick, impatient sigh, asthough these eastern comparisons annoyed her. George was unconsciouslymaking remarks which cut her to the heart; and almost unable to controlher feelings, she muttered some excuse and glided hastily from the room.With the inherent selfishness of love, neither George nor Mab paid anyattention to her emotion or departure, but whispered and smiled andcaressed one another, well pleased at their sweet solitude. George spentone golden hour in paradise, then unwillingly tore himself away. OnlyShakespeare could have done justice to the passion of their parting.Kisses and sighs, last looks, final handclasps, and then George in thesunshine of the square, with Mab waving her handkerchief from the opencasement. But, alas! workaday prose always succeeds Arcadian rhyme, andwith the sinking sun dies the glory of the day.
With his mind hanging betwixt a mental heaven and earth, after thesimilitude of Mahomet's coffin, George walked slowly down the street,until he was brought like a shot eagle to the ground by a touch on theshoulder. Now, as there is nothing more annoying than such a bailiff'ssalute, George wheeled round with some vigorous language on the tip ofhis tongue, but did not use it when he found himself facing Sir HarryBrace.
'Oh, it's you!' said Captain Pendle, lamely. 'Well, with yourexperience, you should know better than to pull up a fellow unawares.'
'You talk in riddles, my good George,' said Harry, staring, as well hemight, at this not very coherent speech.
'I have just left Miss Arden,' explained George, quite unabashed, for hedid not care if the whole world knew of his love.
'Oh, I beg your pardon, I understand,' replied Brace, with a broadsmile; 'but you must excuse me, old chap. I am--I am out of practicelately, you see. "My love she is in Germanee," as the old song says. Iwish to speak with you.'
'All right. Where shall we go?'
'To the club. I must see you privately.'
The Beorminster Club was just a short distance down the street, soGeorge followed Harry into its hospitable portals and finally accepted acomfortable chair in the smoking-room, which, luckily for the purpose ofBrace, was empty at that hour. The two young men each ordered a coolhock-and-soda and lighted two very excellent cigarettes which came outof the pocket of extravagant George. Then they began to talk, and Harryopened the conversation with a question.
'George,' he said, with a serious look on his usually merry face, 'wereyou on Southberry Heath on the night that poor devil was murdered?'
'Oh, yes,' replied Captain Pendle, with some wonder at the question. 'Irode over to the gipsy camp to buy a particular ring from Mother Jael.'
'For Miss Arden, I suppose?'
'Yes; I wished for a necromantic symbol of our engagement.'
'Did you hear or see anything of the murder?'
'Good Lord, no!' cried the startled George, sitting up straight. 'Ishould have been at the inquest had I seen the act, or even heard theshot.'
'Did you carry a pistol with you on that night?'
'As I wasn't riding through Central Africa, I did not. What is themeaning of these mysterious questions?'
Brace answered this query by slipping his hand into his breast-pocketand producing therefrom a neat little pistol, toy-like, but deadlyenough in the hand of a good marksman. 'Is this yours?' he asked,holding it out for Captain Pendle's inspection.
'Certainly it is,' said George, handling the weapon; 'here are myinitials on the butt. Where did you get this?'
'It was found by Mother Jael near the spot where Jentham was murdered.'
Captain Pendle clapped down the pistol on the table with an ejaculationof amazement. 'Was he shot with this, Harry?'
'Without doubt!' replied Brace, gravely. 'Therefore, as it is yourproperty, I wish to know how it came to be used for that purpose.'
'Great Scott, Brace! you don't think that I killed the blackguard?'
'I think nothing so ridiculous,' protested Sir Harry, testily.
'You talk as if you did, though,' retorted George, smartly.
'I thrashed that Jentham beast for insulting Mab, but I didn't shoothim.'
'But the pistol is yours.'
'I admit that, but--Good Lord!' cried Captain Pendle, starting to hisfeet.
'What now?' asked Brace, turning pale and cold on the instant.
'Gabriel! Gabriel! I--I gave this pistol to him.'
'You gave this pistol to Gabriel? When? Where?'
'In London,' explained George, rapidly. 'When he was in Whitechapel Iknew that he went among a lot of roughs and thieves, so I insisted thathe should carry this pistol for his protection. He was unwilling to doso at first, but in the end I persuaded him to slip it into his pocket.I have not seen it from that day to this.'
'And it was found near Jentham's corpse,' said Brace, with a groan.
The two young men looked at one another in horrified silence, the samethoughts in the mind of each. The pistol had been in the possession ofGabriel; and Gabriel on the night of the murder had been in the vicinityof the crime.
'It--it is impossible,' whispered George, almost inaudibly, 'Gabriel canexplain.'
'Gabriel _must_ explain,' said Brace, firmly; 'it is a matter of lifeand death!'
