by Fergus Hume
CHAPTER XXIII
A YEAR LATER
It was midsummer, and Miss Berengaria's garden was a sight. Suchsplendid colors, such magnificent blossoms, such triumphs of thefloricultural art, had never been seen outside the walls of a flowershow. The weather was exceedingly warm, and on this particular day therewas not a cloud in the sky. Miss Plantagenet pottered about her garden,clipping and arranging as usual, and seemed to be in the very best ofspirits. And well she might be, for this was a red-letter day with her.
Under the shade of a large elm-tree sat Durham, in the mostunprofessional tweed suit, and beside him, Alice, radiant in a whitedress. She looked particularly pretty, and her face was a most becomingcolor. Every now and then she would glance at the watch on her wrist,and Durham laughed as he saw how frequently she referred to it.
"The train won't be here for another hour," he said, smiling. "You willsee Bernard soon enough, Miss Malleson."
"Oh, dear me," sighed Alice, "can I ever see him soon enough? It seemslike eleven years instead of eleven months since he went away. I wish hehadn't gone."
"Well," said Durham, following with his eyes the spare little figure ofMiss Berengaria flitting about amongst the flowers, "I didn't approve ofit at the time, and I told Conniston so. But now I think it was just aswell Bernard did keep to his original intention and go to the Front. Itis advisable there should be an interval between the new life and theold."
"The new life?" asked Alice, flushing.
"He is coming home to be married to you," said Durham.
"And with a bullet in his arm," sighed Alice. "I shall have to nurse himback to health before we can marry."
"Miss Randolph will be occupied in the same pleasing task withConniston," replied Durham, lazily, "and I envy both my friends."
"You needn't," laughed Miss Malleson, opening her sunshade which cast adelicate pink hue on her cheeks. "Poor Bernard has been wounded and LordConniston has been down with enteric fever."
"I am glad they have got off so easily. Bernard might have been shot,you know."
Alice shuddered and grew pale. "Don't, Mr. Durham!"
"That was why I feared about his going out," said he. "I thought itwould be a pity, after all he passed through, that he should be killedby a Boer bullet. But he has only temporarily lost the use of his arm;he has been mentioned for gallantry in the despatches; and he is cominghome to marry the most charming girl in the world--I quote from his ownletter," finished Durham, smiling.
"And Lord Conniston?"
"He is coming also to marry Miss Randolph. Both weddings will take placeon the same day, and Conniston has escaped the dangers of the war with aslight touch of fever. But why tell you all this--you know it as well asI do."
"What's that?" asked Miss Berengaria, coming up to the pair.
"I was only discussing Miss Malleson's future life," said Durham.
"Ah," sighed the old lady, sitting down. "What I shall do without her Idon't know."
"Dear aunt," said Alice, kissing the faded cheek, "I shall not be faraway. The Hall is within visiting distance."
"That's all very well," said Miss Berengaria. "But Bernard will want youall to himself, and small blame to him. What is the time?"
Alice glanced at her watch. "It's nearly three, and the train arrives athalf-past," she said. "Oh, I wish we could meet them."
"Not at all," rejoined Miss Berengaria, brusquely, "better wait herewith Lucy. She will be over soon. I don't want a scene of kissing andweeping on the platform. But, I must say, I am glad both those boys areback."
"You will have them as near neighbors, Miss Berengaria," said thelawyer. "Bernard at Gore Hall and Conniston at the castle."
"I hope he and Lucy won't live there," said the old lady, rubbing hernose. "A dreadfully damp place. I went over there the other day to tellMrs. Moon about Jerry."
"Have you had good reports of him?"
"So, so. The reformatory he was put into seems to be a good one, and theboys are well looked after. But Jerry is a tree which will grow crooked.He seems to have been giving a lot of trouble."
"Yet he was lucky to get off as he did," said Durham. "The judge mighthave sent him to jail instead of into a reformatory."
"And he'll land in jail some day," said Alice, shaking her head. "Atleast, Bernard seems to think so."
"I fancy Bernard is about right," replied Durham. "The lad is a borncriminal. I wonder how he inherited such a tainted nature."
Miss Berengaria sat up briskly. "I can tell you," she said. "Mrs. Mooninformed me that her son--Jerry's father--was a desperate scamp, andalso that several of her husband's people had come to bad ends."
"To rope ends, I suppose, as Jerry will come," said Durham. "However, heis safe for the next three years in his reformatory. When he comes out,we will see what will happen. What about your other _protege_, MissBerengaria."
"Michael Gilroy?"
"Yes. Has he taken that name for good?"
"He has. It's the only name he is entitled to. How glad I am that thepoor creature was acquitted after that dreadful trial. I am sure thereis good in him."
"So Bernard thought, and that was why he assisted him," said Alice.
"I think you put in a good word for him, Miss Malleson."
Alice assented. "I was sorry for the poor fellow. While I nursed him Isaw much good in him. And, remember, that he had intended to tell me whohe was when he arrived, only he was so ill."
"And when he saw that you fancied he was Bernard, he accepted thesituation," said Durham, ironically. "I wonder he could have thought youso easily taken in, knowing that you knew Bernard so intimately."
"Well, I don't think he was quite himself during that illness," saidAlice, pensively. "Had he been better, he would certainly have doubtedthe fact of aunty's and my beliefs. A few questions from me, and hewould have been exposed, even had I truly believed he was Bernard."
"And he must have wondered how you never put the questions."
"Perhaps. But he thought I was considering his health. However, he spokeup well at the trial, and quite explained Bernard's innocence."
Durham shrugged his shoulders. "The serpent in the bamboo. He was forcedto be honest at the trial for his own sake."
"Don't be hard on him," said Miss Berengaria, suddenly. "I received aletter from him yesterday. He is doing very well in America, and withthe money Bernard gave him he has bought a farm. Also, he hopes tomarry."
"I wonder will he tell his future wife anything of his past life."
"Not if he is wise," said Durham, looking at Alice, who had spoken. "Bythe way, Miss Berengaria, does he mention his mother?"
"No," replied the old lady, promptly. "Drat you, Durham! why should theboy mention his mother at this point? She has been dead all thesemonths. Poor soul! her end was a sad one. I never heard, though, of whatpoison she died."
"A Romany poison they call drows," explained Durham, quickly. "Thegipsies use it to poison pigs."
"Why do they wish to poison pigs?"
"Because, if they kill a pig in that way, the farmer to whom it belongs,thinking the animal has died a natural death, gives it to the gipsiesand they eat it."
"Ugh!" Miss Berengaria shuddered. "I'll look well after my own pigs. Sothe poor creature killed herself with that drug?"
"I don't know that it is a drug," said Durham. "I can't explain what itis. She hinted that I would know what drows meant before the end of theday, and I did. While I was telling Inspector Groom about herconfession, she poisoned herself in my office. I thought she was asleep,but she evidently was watching for her opportunity to make away withherself."
"Ugh!" said Miss Berengaria, again. "I wonder you can bear to sit inthat office after such an occurrence."
"How lucky it was that she signed that confession before she died," wasthe remark made by Alice.
"My dear young lady, she came especially to confess, so as to save herson. She would not have died until she did conf
ess."
"And if she had not suffered from that incurable disease, I doubt if shewould have committed suicide," said Miss Plantagenet.
"Oh, I think so," said Durham, reflectively. "After all, her confessionmeant hanging to her. She wished to escape the gallows."
"I am glad Bernard did," said Miss Berengaria, emphatically; "even atthe risk of all that scandal."
"It couldn't be kept out of the papers," said Durham, with a shrug."After all, Bernard's character had to be fully cleansed. It wastherefore necessary to tell the whole of Beryl's plot, to produceMichael as an example of what Nature can do in the way of resemblances,and to supplement the whole with Mrs. Gilroy's confession."
"And a nice trouble there was over it," said the old lady, annoyed. "Ibelieve Bernard had a man calling on him who wished to write a playabout the affair--a new kind of 'Corsican Brothers.'"
"Or a new 'Comedy of Errors,'" said Alice, smiling. "Well, the publiclearned everything and were sorry for Bernard. They cheered him when heleft the court."
"And would have been quite as ready to hiss him had things turned outotherwise," snapped Miss Berengaria. "The man who should have sufferedwas that wretch Beryl."
"We couldn't catch him," said Durham. "Victoria reached him on that verynight, and he cleared without loss of time. Of course, he was afraid ofbeing accused of the crime, although he knew he was innocent, but,besides that, there was the conspiracy to get the estate by means of thefalse will. By the way, did Mrs. Moon say what had become of Victoria?"
Miss Berengaria nodded. "Victoria is down in Devonshire with an aunt,and is being kept hard at work to take the bad out of her. I understandshe still believes in Jerry and will marry him when he comes out of thereformatory. He will then be of a marriageable age, the brat! But,regarding Beryl, what became of him?"
"I never could find out," confessed Durham.
"Then I can tell you, Durham. Michael saw him in New York."
"Where?"
"In some low slum, very ragged and poor. He didn't see Michael, or hemight have troubled him. He has taken to drink, I believe--Beryl Imean--so some day he will die, and a nice fate awaits him where he willgo," said Miss Berengaria, grimly.
Durham rose and removed his straw hat. "Well," said he, looking down onthe two ladies, "the whole case is over and ended. I don't see why weshould revive such very unpleasant memories. The past is past, so let itrest. Bernard has the title and the money and----"
"Here's Lucy," said Alice, rising. "Dear girl, how sweet she looks!"
It was indeed Lucy tripping across the lawn in the lightest of summerfrocks. She looked charming, and greeted Alice with a kiss. "I am soanxious," she whispered. "The train will be in soon."
"You are anxious to see Conniston?" said Miss Berengaria.
"Yes. And I am also anxious to hand the Hall over to Bernard. I have hada lot of trouble looking after it. Haven't I, Mr. Durham?"
Durham bowed. "You have been an admirable Lady of the Manor," he said."But soon you will be Lady Conniston."
"And Alice will be Lady of the Manor," laughed Lucy. "Oh, by the way,Mr. Durham, I forgot to tell you that Signor Tolomeo called at the Hallyesterday. He thought Bernard was back, and came to thank him for hisallowing him an income."
"I thought he had gone back to Italy," said Durham.
"He is going next week, and talks of marriage."
"I don't envy his wife," said Miss Berengaria, rising. "Girls, come intothe house to see that everything is prepared for our heroes."
The girls laughed and tripped away. Durham left the garden and drove tothe station to fetch back Conniston and Bernard. They did not come bythat train, however, much to the disappointment of those at the Bower.It was seven before they arrived, and then the three ladies came out tomeet them on the lawn.
"Dear Alice," said Bernard, who had his arm in a sling, but otherwiselooked what Conniston called "fit!", "how glad I am to see you!"
"And you, Lucy," said Conniston, taking his sweetheart in his arms.
"Really," cried Miss Berengaria, while Durham stood by laughing, "it ismost perplexing to assist at the meeting of a quartette of lovers. Gore,how are you? Conniston, your fever has pulled you down. I hope you haveboth sown your wild oats and have come back to settle for good."
"With the most charming of wives," said Dick, bowing. "We have."
Miss Berengaria took Durham's arm. "I must look out a wife for you,sir," she said, leading him to the house. "Come away and let theturtle-doves coo alone. I expect dinner will be late."
And dinner was late. Conniston, with Lucy on his arm, strolled away inthe twilight, but Bernard and Alice remained under the elm. When it grewquite dusk a red light was seen shining from the window of thedrawing-room. Gore pointed it out.
"That is the signal Lucy used to set in the window at the Hall to showthat all was well," he said, putting his unwounded arm round the girl,"and now it gleams as a sign that there is a happy future for you and I,dearest."
"A red light is a danger signal," said Alice, laughing.
"This is the exception that proves the rule," said Gore. "It once led meinto trouble, but now it shines upon me with my arms around you. ThankHeaven that, after all our trouble, we are at last in smooth waters.There's the gong for dinner."
Alice laughed. "A prosaic ending to a pretty speech," she said.
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