by Fergus Hume
CHAPTER XIII
A CONSULTATION
A week later Bernard was seated in the sitting room on the first floorof the castle looking out at the landscape. It was picturesque butdepressing. The sun had just set behind dark clouds, and the red glarebehind them looked like a fire in a grate. The marshes were covered withwhite mist, and the arm of the sea that reached up to the castle wallsresembled a stream of blood. And over all the veil of night was fallingdarker and darker. Even to a mind at ease the prospect would have beencheerless, but to Bernard in his present low spirits it was positivelysuicidal. He felt more miserable than he had ever done in his life.
While watching and waiting, he knew not for what, the sound of voiceswas heard. As he started to his feet with that nervousness which hadincreased of late, the door opened slowly and Mark Durham enteredsmiling. Bernard with an ejaculation of surprise hastened towards himwith outstretched hands.
"My dear Mark, how unexpected and how jolly. I was just dying to seesomeone. When did you arrive?"
"This very minute, and Mrs. Moon"--he turned to the door through whichcould be seen the gigantic form of the ogress--"showed me up at once. Ihave come for the night"--he raised his voice for the benefit of thehousekeeper--"on business connected with Lord Conniston's estate."
"Sir," said Mrs. Moon, peering in, "don't tell me as his lordship isgoing to fight."
"No! no! Make yourself easy. He has left the army. Should he go to thefront it will be in a way more befitting his rank."
"And a relief it is to hear that," said Mrs. Moon, placing a large handon her ample bosom. "When Jerry, who is my grandson, wrote me hislordship was a common soldier, I could have fainted, but what I thoughtVictoria would bring me to with hot water like the spiteful imp ofdarkness she is."
"Did Jerry write?" asked Durham, making a sign to Gore to be silent.
"Of course he did, and said as he had been turned out of his employmentfor a--recognizing of his lordship--a thing I should never have thoughthis lordship would have done, seeing he got my own flesh and blood,which Jerry is, the situation."
"It was not for that reason, Mrs. Moon. Jerry told a lie if he wrotethat to you."
"Printed or speaking lies, he tells plenty," moaned the giantess. "Ohdear me, so like his poor dear father, though I thumped him rarely whenI had the strength. But what's my Jerry, bad as he is and liar though hebe, a-doing of now? He may be starving in that nasty London, and a rarechild he was for tit-bits."
"I can tell you where he is, Mrs. Moon," broke in Bernard. "I have justheard." He glanced towards the table wherein lay a letter. "He is a pagein the house of Miss Plantagenet at Hurseton."
"Deary me," said Mrs. Moon in mild surprise. "I do hope as he'll givesatisfaction, and pleased I am. I must tell Victoria, she being taken upgreatly with my Jerry, though both of them be but young."
Durham detained her. "No! Don't say a word to Victoria."
"And why not, sir?"
"If you do Jerry will lose his post," explained Durham. "MissPlantagenet has heard of Victoria, and she doesn't seem to be a goodcompanion for Jerry. Only on condition that Victoria has nothing to dowith Jerry will the boy be kept on. It is for this reason he has notbeen over to see you."
"And him being so near and denying his own flesh and blood," wailed Mrs.Moon, raising her large hands; "but Jerry was always bad. Well, I don'twant him to lose his place, so I'll hold my tongue, and right MissPlantagenet is, Victoria being a bad and wicked critter as I'd take myBible oath. If only another girl would stop here I'd give Victoria thewalking-ticket. But, bless you, the castle's that dismal and the----"
Here Durham interrupted impatiently. "Go and send up some tea, Mrs.Moon, and hold your tongue about Jerry's whereabouts. If Victorialearns, she may go over, and then Jerry would be dismissed."
"To the gallows," said the housekeeper, closing the door, "to which hewill assuredly go," she added, opening it again, "he taking after hisforebears, who were hanged for many evils. Tea did you say. Ah, well,there's some comfort in tea," and muttering to herself the weak oldcreature left the two gentlemen to themselves.
By this time Bernard had returned to the fire and was pushing forward achair for Durham. "I am glad to see you, Mark," said he, cordially. "Butwhy did you stop me speaking?"
"I didn't stop you, worse luck," said Durham, running his hand throughhis curly hair. "I didn't want Mrs. Moon to know where Jerry was. I onlyhope she will hold her tongue; but if she does tell Victoria, and she isweak enough to babble a lot, Jerry will learn in a way I need notdescribe that you are here."
Bernard saw that he had been foolish and bit his lip. "I should havebeen silent," he said. "But the fact is, Mark, I didn't think of Jerrybeing dangerous. Alice simply wrote saying that he had been engaged byMiss Berengaria as a page, and that she would give me the details whenshe came to-morrow."
"So like a woman," grumbled Durham, sitting down. "It would have beenbetter had she told you that Beryl had induced Miss Plantagenet to takethe boy as a page."
Bernard stared. "But she is on my side," he faltered.
"Of course she is, and for that reason she has taken the boy. I told herto be civil to Beryl, so that I might learn what his game was. It isbetter that we should keep all these people in sight. I have my eye onBeryl, who haunts my office. Jane Riordan is in my employment. MissRandolph keeps watch on Mrs. Gilroy, and Miss Plantagenet will see thatJerry--or Judas as Conniston calls him--does no mischief. If I can getall the threads into my hands, Bernard, I'll soon be able to find a cluelikely to lead me to the central mystery of this labyrinth. And there'sno denying," added Durham, wrinkling his brows, "that the case is aperplexing one."
"I understand about you and Miss Berengaria," said Bernard, nursing hischin, "you are my friends; but Lucy. I have always had my doubts aboutLucy, and offended Conniston by saying so. He admires Lucy."
"Miss Randolph is entirely to be trusted," said the lawyer, decisively;"she is your friend, and has broken off her engagement with Beryl. Ithink he showed too plainly that he wanted to ruin you and----"
"Does he know that I am alive?" interrupted Gore, much perturbed.
"No! But I think he is suspicious. He has some rascally scheme inhis head or he would not have placed Judas in Miss Berengaria'sestablishment; luckily, the old lady will watch the boy. However, as Iwas saying, the engagement between Miss Randolph and Beryl is ended. Shetold me that she had given him back the ring. She is quite on our side."
"Conniston will be glad," said Gore, smiling in a haggard sort of way;"he admires Lucy."
"So do I. She's a charming girl, especially now that she has beenallowed to exert her individuality, which was crushed by Sir Simon. Ioften wondered you did not fall in love with her, Bernard."
"Oh, we are like brother and sister," said Bernard, quietly, then hesighed and started to his feet. "See here, Mark, I can't stand this sortof thing any longer."
"What sort of thing?"
"This inaction. Here I am mouldering in this old castle, a prey toapprehension, and letting other people do my work. Why shouldn't I cometo life and give myself up?"
"You can do that later, when we know more about the case than we do atpresent. Don't be rash, Bernard."
Gore walked up and down the room. "The life will drive me mad," he saidimpatiently. "Thank Heaven Alice comes to see me to-morrow."
"Why didn't she come before?"
"She would have done so had she thought it safe. Alice is as true assteel. But with Beryl about the place--and he has called several timeson Miss Berengaria--she thought it best to postpone her visit. ButConniston asked them both over to-morrow, and they are coming openly."
"So they told me," rejoined Durham, coolly, "and I particularlyimpressed on them that they were not to bring that imp over. If helearns you are here--" The lawyer paused.
"What will he do?"
"Sell you to the highest bidder. I think we can get the better of Berylthere, though. We
have the money and Beryl hasn't. Judas is in theemployment of Beryl so long as it pays him. But if I promise him a goodsum he'll hold his tongue whatever he learns. It's just as well, seeinghow rash you were telling his grandmother where he is to be found."
"I was foolish," admitted Gore, gloomily, "but I am so worried that I dofoolish things. Do you think there is any chance of getting at thetruth, Mark?"
"Here's the tea," said Durham, rising at the sound of a shuffle at thedoor. "Let me have a cup, and then I'll tell you what I havediscovered."
"Anything important?" asked Gore, as the door opened.
"Very important. I have a clue."
It was Victoria, sharp and dark and vixenish as ever, who brought in thetray. But Durham had spoken in low tones, so he did not think she hadheard. Besides, he was not so alarmed about her and Judas as he hadbeen. Both were venal, and at any cost their silence would have to bepurchased. It would be better for Bernard to lose half his estate thanremain a fugitive from justice. Victoria darted a suspicious glance atBernard, as from the air of mystery surrounding his stay at the castleshe thought he was, as she put it, "wanted for something." But she wastoo clever, and, truth to say, too impotent to move without theco-operation of Jerry Moon. Besides, beyond a mere suspicion, she hadnothing to go upon. Queerly enough, she had heard nothing of the murder,but then Mrs. Moon kept her so close that Victoria rarely had anopportunity of indulging her gossipping instincts, of which she had herfull share.
When she withdrew, Durham poured out two cups of tea and ate some toast.Gore waited patiently enough, but there was a restless air about himwhich showed that his patience was tried severely. At length Durhamsatisfied his appetite, took the edge off it as it were, and thenreturned to his seat.
"Bernard," he asked, poking the fire, "you never told me that Sir Simongave you a check for one thousand pounds?"
Gore started up with an exclamation. "What do you mean? I never receivedsuch a large check as that in all my life."
"But your grandfather gave you one in September, payable to bearer."
"No. He certainly did not. You forget that we had quarrelled. From themoment I left the Hall some months ago I never received a penny fromhim. I lived, as you know, on what little money I inherited from myfather. You gave fifty pounds to me yourself."
"I went to the bank," said Durham, with an air of satisfaction, "andasked if such a check had been presented, and by whom?"
"But how did you learn about this check?"
"Oh! I found it amongst Sir Simon's private papers when he died. It hadbeen honored and returned cancelled with the bank-book. I need not haveasked if it had been presented, as it had, and had also been paid. But Iwanted to examine the whole thing from the beginning. The teller--whoknows you--informed me that you presented the check about the beginningof October, and that he paid you the money."
"It is utterly false!" cried Gore, violently.
"Keep your temper, old boy," said Durham, soothingly. "I know that aswell as you do. The man who presented the check was dressed as anImperial Yeoman. He told the teller he had enlisted, and the teller,thinking he was you, wished him good luck."
"But, Mark," said Bernard, much perplexed, "this double of mine must beextraordinarily like me, for the teller knows me well."
"There is a reason for the likeness!" The young man hesitated, wonderingif it would be right to tell his friend that Mrs. Gilroy claimed to bethe first wife of Walter Gore. On rapid reflection, he decided to saynothing about the matter at present, knowing Bernard's violent temper.He therefore confined himself to bare detail. "Mrs. Gilroy called at myoffice," he said slowly, "to complain that the one hundred a year leftto her by Sir Simon was not enough."
"Oh, confound Mrs. Gilroy," said Gore, impatiently. "I want to knowabout this check. This double who presented it must be the fellow whomasqueraded in the kitchen."
"And perhaps--who knows?--may have murdered Sir Simon."
"It's not unlikely. Mrs. Gilroy said she admitted someone like me--or,as she thought, me--about ten, and----"
"We'll come to that presently. I examined Jane Riordan, who was courtedby this fellow apparently to get into the house. She described youexactly, but when I showed her your likeness she noticed that the moleon your chin was absent from the man who met her."
Bernard involuntarily put up his hand to touch the mole, which wasrather conspicuous. "The man had not this mark?" he asked.
"No. So the mole you used to curse at school, Bernard, may be the meansof saving your life. Also I got a letter from the girl in which thisfellow makes an appointment. Here it is."
Gore examined the letter thrown to him by Durham. "It's like my writing,but it isn't," he said, staring. "In Heaven's name, Mark, what does itall mean?"
"Conspiracy on the part of----"
"Julius Beryl," said Gore, breathlessly.
"I am not prepared to say that; but certainly on the part of Mrs.Gilroy. While I was wondering who this double who copied even yourhandwriting and called himself by your name could be, Mrs. Gilroy calledon the errand I told you of."
"Well? Well?"
"Don't be impatient, old chap. Well, she demanded more money, and shegave it as her reason for claiming it that your father--" Durhamhesitated, wondering how to explain.
"Go on, please," said Gore. "I am on thorns."
"Do you want the truth?"
"Yes, I do. The whole truth."
"Will you promise to keep your temper?"
"Yes. I know I have a bad one, but----"
"Very good. Don't excuse yourself, Bernard. Well, Mrs. Gilroy claimed tobe the wife of your father, and----"
Gore started to his feet in a paroxysm of rage. "The wife of my father,"he repeated. "Why, my mother is dead."
"She said your mother was not the wife of----"
"Oh!" Bernard sprang to his feet with blazing eyes. "Mark!"
The lawyer rose. "Keep your temper. I didn't intend to tell you, knowinghow you would receive the news."
"Does this woman dare to say that I am a--a----"
"Bernard, sit down," said Durham, and literally forced the impetuous boyback into his chair. "Behave like a civilized being. Mrs. Gilroy claimsto be your father's first wife."
"But if she lives, and if what she says is true, my mother--I--oh--Icould kill this woman."
"Gore," said the lawyer, seriously, "don't talk like this; remember whattrouble you are now in owing to your former rash words."
"Yes! Yes!" Bernard struck his forehead hard. "I know--I am a fool. Ididn't mean--Mark!"--he started up despite the other's efforts to keephim down--"do you believe this?"
"No," said Durham, promptly, "I don't. If Mrs. Gilroy was the real wife,she would not have kept silent so long. But I think she was deceived bya pretended marriage, and that Sir Simon, knowing this, helped her. Ialways wondered what was the bond between them. Now I know. Your fatherdeceived the woman."
"But why do you think she had anything to do with my father at all,Mark? The whole story may be trumped up."
"I am quite sure that her tale is true, save as to the marriage," wasDurham's reply. "I don't say that she might not have been deceived witha pretended marriage, and that she thought all was right. But she is notthe real wife. Your mother, born Tolomeo is, and you are legitimatelySir Bernard Gore."
"But your reason for thinking she speaks truly?"
"I will give one; a sufficient one. Mrs. Gilroy declared that her son,Michael Gore--so she termed him--was the heir. She explained that therecould be no deception, as he is the image of his father."
"Oh!" Bernard started to his feet, seeing light. "And I am the image ofmy father, as was always said. This man must be----"
"He is. I am sure of that. Michael, your half-brother, is the manresembling you who masqueraded--probably at the instance of his mother.I daresay he saw Sir Simon on that night, and was admitted by hismother. Probably he insisted that he was the heir, and Sir Simon losthis temper. Then he killed the old man, and----"
"A
nd Mrs. Gilroy put the crime on to my shoulders. I see it all."
"I don't," said Durham, dryly. "I wish I did. For instance, I don't seewhy you were brought to Crimea Square in the nick of time for Mrs.Gilroy to accuse you. I don't understand about the Red Window either!"
Gore walked up and down the room much agitated. "Mark," he cried atlast, "I must come out and face this. I can't sit still here, knowingthat all this villainy is about."
"You must," insisted Mark, firmly. "Remember I am your lawyer and I willlook after your interests, to say nothing of Conniston, who has remainedin England for your sake. Wait, Bernard. In good time I will bring youforward."
"But what will you do?"
"I shall see Mrs. Gilroy and question her again. She declared that herson was in America when I accused him to her of having killed Sir Simon.Now Michael undoubtedly presented this check at the beginning ofOctober. The murder took place at the end of the month, so Michael wasin England. When I place this fact before Mrs. Gilroy, she may give inand confess."
"Confess what?"
"That you are innocent. Whether she will acknowledge that Michael, herson, committed the crime I can't say. I'll see her to-morrow, and I leftword with Miss Randolph to-day that I would. The solution of the mysterylies with Mrs. Gilroy."
"Where can her son be found?"
"That we must learn. I may be able to force her to speak. When we findMichael you can reappear, and then the matter will be threshed out. Janewill soon be able to distinguish between these Corsican Brothers.Meantime, remain quietly here."
"I must! I must! And yet----"
"And yet you won't think I am doing my best for you."
"I do--you know I do, Mark. But, after all, my position is terrible."
"Don't make it worse by acting impulsively. I shall keep you advised ofall that goes on. When does Conniston return?"
"To-morrow, with Alice and Miss Berengaria. He went over to-day."
"I saw him there. I expect he will stop the night. Well, while he ishere with Miss Malleson and her aunt, I shall see Mrs. Gilroy."
"But if she refuses to speak," murmured Gore, anxiously.
"I have means to make her speak," said Durham, significantly.
