CHAPTER XIX
A TRUCE AND A PROMISE
"Then you know my father?" asked Laurence, after the pause that followedthe doctor's laconic remark.
"That I cannot say," responded Meadows, "but it seems like it, does itnot?"
"You astonish me by confessing to a former acquaintance with SquireCarrington. Were you not on the point of taking your oath that you knewnothing about my father?"
"No, I was not going so far as that, I am only prepared to swear that Ihave had no hand in these attempts on your father's life, for I willtell frankly that I was almost confident I had met your father longbefore you told me that I was right in my description of his appearance.Life is indeed strange. A moment ago you were doubting my word--you mayfeel inclined to do so now, little thinking that probably I alone couldthrow any light on the mystery. You know this, for I think you havealready told me as much, that Ma--Squire Carrington is keeping some deepsecret from the world--even from you, his son. What if I, and I alone,am able to reveal that secret?"
"You speak in riddles," replied Laurence. "You appear to know my father,yet last time we referred to the subject you told me deliberately thatyou had not 'the pleasure of his acquaintance.' What am I to believe?Now you deny all connection with these murderous attacks on his life,and yet you profess to be in a position to reveal the cause of them, andto throw light upon the Squire's well-guarded secret."
"As I have said," explained Doctor Meadows, "fate plays strange trickswith us mortals. I am speaking the truth when I say that I think I knowmore about your father's secret than any living creature, except theSquire himself, and his assailant. Tell me, though, what do you know ofMr. Carrington's past?"
"Very little," replied Laurence; "if I knew more I might be able myselfto shed some light on the darkness. This alone I have been told by myfather, who is one of those men who keep their private affairs a sealedbook to the rest of the world--that my mother, who was of high birth,died when I was born, twenty-two years ago; that my father neverfollowed any profession or trade, and that I am an only child."
"Ah," murmured Meadows, "that is all you know, is it?" He sat gazingsteadily at the fireplace, his brow knit up as though he was wrapped inthought. For a short space of time there was silence in the Orientalroom.
"Well, do you agree," the doctor said at last, "to my proposal that Ishould play the detective and solve the mystery encircling your father'slife?"
"I have already obtained the assistance of an investigator," repliedLaurence, somewhat coldly.
"Ah, and is he quite satisfactory?"
Lena smiled at the question.
"No," she responded, "he is hardly all that one can desire. He comesfrom Burton's Private Assistance Bureau." She turned to Laurence. "Youmust not be ungracious," she said gently. "Doctor Meadows--I call him bythat name for want of a better, though I am certain it is a disguisedone--Doctor Meadows is most kind in making this suggestion. We havereally no call upon his generosity at all. If he thinks he is in aposition to assist us in our investigation, why not permit him to do so?Since he gives us his word as a gentleman that neither he nor hisservant has any connection with the plot to murder the Squire, why, heis at liberty to have as many secrets of his own as he likes withoutbeing annoyed by suspicious young people like us. Under thecircumstances I am sure Doctor Meadows will not expect you to ask him tothe house to pursue his inquiry, but please do let him help us as besthe can from here. I am sure his forehead shows him to be an adept atdetective work. It's quite as good a one as Sherlock Holmes had!"
Laurence meditated. He naturally could not refuse Lena such a smallthing, and because she asked it he changed his behaviour towards thedoctor, and became more polite to the old gentleman, who received thealteration with undisguised pleasure.
"If I could only tell you why this house is the house of strange secretsthat you believe it to be, I would do so with all my heart. Alas! thatis impossible. As you have discovered, I have a secret--one which I mustkeep at all costs. I beg you not to refer to it again. As you havecleverly discovered, madam, my name, too--the one you know--is apseudonym. One day, perhaps, you will know why I have had to take suchprecautions. Then you will find that it is by no fault of mine that I amcompelled to play the part I do. I thank you, both of you, for yourkindness. I am in your hands. If you do not believe my word of honour,you can point out this house to the police and have it searched. By sodoing you will ruin me. You will cause such a sensation in theworld--yes, I am not exaggerating--as has not been for years. And itwill not do you the slightest good. Believe me, were you to do as youonce suggested, Mr. Carrington, you would, rather than win any praise orhonour, as you might if you exposed a gang of coiners or a murder-house,place yourself in a most unenviable position. But not for this reason doI ask you to refrain from taking active measures against me, but on theground of humanity, and because I alone can explain the terrible secretthat has blasted your poor father's life."
"Doctor Meadows, the more I get to know you, the greater enigma youbecome to me," said Laurence. "You must yourself agree with me when Isay that such words as you have spoken are most remarkable. I cannotwonder at this, for you are the most remarkable man I have ever had thepleasure of meeting. As you say, perhaps one day I shall know yourhistory and the cause of all that has raised my suspicions. Then, nodoubt, I shall see you in your true light, but, until then, understandthis: I shall take no steps whatever to unravel the mystery thatsurrounds you, and shall respect all that you have told me, neveralluding to what is evidently a painful subject for discussion to you,without your permission. And here is my hand on it. When I speak as Ido, I think I speak both for myself and for this lady, who has done methe honour of promising to become my wife."
"Oh, you story-teller!" broke in Lena, in tones of mock displeasure; "Ihave not yet given my answer. If you aren't careful it shall be 'no.' Atpresent I am the person to answer for myself, and I second all that Mr.Carrington has said," she added, turning to Meadows.
"Thank you," replied the old gentleman, "thank you, both of you. Youwill not regret the course you have adopted. But this detective whom youhave engaged--can you prevent him from making things unpleasant for me?"
"I will do my best," replied Laurence briskly. "But," he proceeded, "youshould really be more careful in your selection of a servant, doctor.One of my causes of suspicion was his very peculiar conduct in refusingto show me out of the front door, after our last interview, without mybribing him. That is hardly what one expects from a gentleman's servant,is it?"
"No, indeed," answered Meadows, with a sickly smile. "I must apologisefor his misconduct. He is not the most desirable servant one could have,but he is very necessary to me. This time I will show you out myself,and I shall not trouble you for a 'pour-boire.'"
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