The Hampstead Mystery
Page 27
CHAPTER XXVII
She left her husband's chambers with her brain in a whirl, hardly knowingwhere she was going until she found herself held up with a stream ofpedestrians at the island intersection of Waterloo Bridge and the Strand.She thought the policeman who was regulating the traffic eyed hercuriously, and, more with the object of evading his eye than with any setplan in her mind, she stepped into an empty taxi-cab which was waiting tocross the street.
"Where to, ma'am?" asked the driver.
"Where to?" she repeated vacantly. With an effort of will sheconcentrated her thoughts on the task in front of her, and hastily added,"To Victoria, as quick as you can. No--wait--driver, first take me to thenearest bookstall."
The taxi-cab took her to a bookstall in the Strand, where she got out andpurchased a railway guide. As the taxi-cab proceeded towards Victoria shehastily turned the pages to the trains for Dellmere. She had never beento Dellmere, but she had heard from Miss Fewbanks that her father's placewas reached from a station called Horleydene, on the main line toWennesden, and that though there were many through trains, comparativelyfew stopped at Horleydene. But she was unused to time-tables, and foundit difficult to grasp the information she required. There was such abewildering diversity of letters at the head of the lists of trains forthat line, and so many reference notes on different pages to be looked upbefore it was possible to ascertain with any degree of certainty whattrains stopped at Horleydene on week-days, that, in her shaken frame ofmind, with the necessity for hurry haunting her, she became confused,and failed to comprehend the perplexing figures. She signalled to thedriver to stop, and handed him the book.
"I cannot understand this time-table," she said, in an agitated way."Would you find out for me, please, when the next train leaves Victoriafor Horleydene?"
The driver consulted the time-table with a businesslike air.
"The next train leaves at 12.40," he informed her. "After that thereisn't another one stopping there till 4.5."
Mrs. Holymead consulted her watch anxiously.
"It's almost half-past twelve now. Can you catch the 12.40?" she asked.
The driver looked dubious.
"I'll try, ma'am, but it'll take some doing. It depends whether I get aclear run at Trafalgar Square."
"Try, try!" she cried. "Catch it, and I will double your fare."
She caught the train with a few seconds to spare. She had a first-classcompartment to herself, and as the train rushed out of London, and thegrimy environs of the metropolis gradually gave place to green fields,she endeavoured to compose her mind and collect her thoughts for hercoming interview with the daughter of the murdered man. But her mind wasin such a distraught condition that she could think of no plan but tosacrifice herself in order to save her husband. With cold hands pressedagainst her hot forehead, she muttered again and again, as if offering upan invocation that gained force by repetition:
"I must save him. I will tell her everything."
The train ran into Horleydene shortly after two, and Mrs. Holymead wasthe only passenger who alighted at the lonely little wayside stationwhich stood in a small wood in a solitude as profound as though it hadbeen in the American prairie, instead of the heart of an Englishcounty. The only sign of life was a dilapidated vehicle with anelderly man in charge, which stood outside the station yard all daywaiting for chance visitors.
"Cab, ma'am?" exclaimed the driver of this vehicle in an ingratiatingvoice, touching his hat.
"No, thank you," replied Mrs. Holymead. "I'll walk."
Miss Fewbanks was astonished when the parlourmaid announced the arrivalof Mrs. Holymead. She hurried to the drawing-room to meet her visitor,but the warm greeting she offered her was checked by her astonishment atthe ill and worn appearance of her beautiful friend.
"Please, don't," said the visitor, as she held up a warning hand to keepaway a sisterly kiss. She looked at Miss Fewbanks with the air of a womannerving herself for a desperate task, and said quickly: "I have dreadfulthings to tell you. You can never think of me again except withloathing--with horror."
The impression Miss Fewbanks received was that her visitor had takenleave of her senses. This impression was deepened by Mrs. Holymead'snext remark.
"I want you to save my husband."
There was an awkward pause while Mrs. Holymead waited for a reply andMiss Fewbanks wondered what was the best thing to do.
"Say you will save him!" exclaimed Mrs. Holymead. "Do what you like withme, but save him."
"Don't you think, dear, you would be better if you had a rest and alittle sleep?" said Miss Fewbanks. "I am sure you could sleep if youtried. Come upstairs and I'll make you so comfortable."
"You think I am mad," said the elder woman. "Would to God that I was."
"Come, dear," said Miss Fewbanks coaxingly. She turned to the door andprepared to lead the way upstairs.
"Sleep!" exclaimed Mrs. Holymead bitterly. "I have not had a peacefulsleep since your father was killed. I have been haunted day and night. Icannot sleep."
"I know it was a dreadful shock to you, but you must not take it so muchto heart. You must see your doctor and do what he tells you. Mr. Holymeadshould send you away."
At the mention of her husband's name Mrs. Holymead came back to thethought that had been foremost in her mind.
"Will you save him?" she exclaimed.
"You know I will do anything I can for him," answered the girl gently.Her intention was to humour her visitor, for she was quite sure that Mr.Holymead was in no danger.
"Will you stop Mr. Crewe?"
"Stop Mr. Crewe?" Miss Fewbanks repeated the words in a tone that showedher interest had been awakened. "Stop him from what?"
"Stop him from arresting my husband."
"Do you mean to say that Mr. Crewe thinks Mr. Holymead had anything to dowith the murder of my father?"
"If I tell you everything will you stop him? Oh, Mabel, darling, for thesake of the past--before I came on the scene to mar the lives of both ofthem--will you save him? It is I--not he--who should pay the penalty ofthis awful tragedy. Will you save him?"
"Tell me everything," said the girl firmly.
To the stricken wife there was a promise in the demand for light, and inbroken phrases she poured out her story of shame and sorrow. With afeeling that everything was falling away from her the girl learnt fromher visitor's disconnected story that there had been a liaison betweenher murdered father and her friend. Mr. Holymead had discovered it afterSir Horace had gone to Scotland and husband and wife were away in thecountry. He was at first distracted at finding that his lifelong friendhad seduced his wife, then he made her promise not to see or communicatewith Sir Horace until he made up his mind what course of action to take.Three days later he caught an evening train to London and told her hewas not returning, but would write to her.
It crossed her mind that he had gone up to London to meet Sir Horace, andin her distress at the thought of what might happen when they met sheconsulted her cousin Gabrielle, who had always been in her confidence.Gabrielle had offered to go to Riversbrook to see if Sir Horace hadreturned from Scotland, or was expected back. Her train was delayed by anaccident, and when she arrived at Riversbrook it was after half-past ten.She arrived a few minutes too late to prevent the tragedy. She found thefront door open and the electric light burning in the hall. She went upthe staircase and in the library she found Sir Horace, who was lying onthe floor at the point of death. She tried to lift him to a sittingposition, but with a convulsive gasp he died in her arms.
She laid him down and then looked hurriedly around the room with theobject of removing any evidence of how or why the crime had beencommitted, her main thought being to save her friend from the shame of apublic scandal. She picked up a revolver which was lying on the floornear Sir Horace, turned out the lights in the library and in the hall sothat the house was in darkness, and then closed the hall door after heras she went out. But Mr. Crewe had discovered in some way that Mr.Holymead had visited Sir Horace th
at night. Only a week ago Gabrielle hadgone to him and tried to put him off the track, but it was no use.
The wretched woman made a pathetic appeal for her husband's life. Shedeplored the sinfulness which had resulted in the tragedy. She took onherself the blame for it all. She had sent one man to his death, and herhusband stood in peril of a shameful death on the gallows. But it was inthe power of Mabel to save him. On her knees she pleaded for his life;she pleaded to be saved from the horror of sending her husband to thegallows. If Mabel's father could make his wishes known he too wouldplead for the life of the friend he had betrayed.
The door opened and the parlourmaid entered. Miss Fewbanks steppedquickly across the room so that she should not witness the distress ofMrs. Holymead. The servant handed her a card and waited for instructions.Miss Fewbanks looked at the card in an agony of indecision. Then she madeup her mind firmly.
"Show him into my study," she whispered to the girl.
She returned to her visitor, who was sitting with her face buried inher hands.
"Mr. Crewe has just motored down," she said. "I will save your husbandif I can."