CHAPTER XXVII
HARRIET CAW ON CLERICAL CELIBACY
(_Narrative continued by Joe Yarrow, Junior_)
I have put my father's writing, just as it came from his hand, intothis place. It will give a better idea of the uncertain condition ofthose two, sequestrated underground, than any mere description. I willnow go on to tell how things were going at Breckonside.
Our house in the village had a name. It was called "The Mount," butfor the most part of people it was "Yarrow's." Just "Yarrow's." Thehouse had, of course, a different entrance from the shop, and theretail shop again was quite distinct from the wholesale business. Formost of the small dealers in the villages between Breckonside andLongtown, besides many even toward the bigger towns of East Dene andThorsby, were dependent on my father for their supplies. You see, hehad his finger upon the state of everybody's purse, and could givelonger credit, and in a more human way, than the great firms whodepended upon their yearly turnover, and must have their money everythree months.
Still, on the whole, I know no man who was more generally respectedthan my father. He was essentially a business man, but he mixed muchkindness therewith. To find him had been my continual desire. Alongwith Peter Kemp and Davie Elshiner, both apt at the search of thewoods, I had explored every ruin within a distance of five miles ofBreckonside. We discovered nothing. No second jackdaw, trailing anextra tail feather, came within reach of Peter's gun. Indeed, myfather was otherwise employed than in bird catching. Events werehastening fast along in that underground tunnel which had beendiscovered and utilized by Mad Jeremy Orrin and his master, HobbyStennis.
About this time Mr. Ablethorpe came pretty often to see us. He liked,I think, to explain his views to Constantia Caw, who languished up athim with eyes each the size of a pigeon's egg. He even fetched Mr. Dela Poer to help in the task of proving to the two girls that there wasonly one apostolic succession, and that they--Mr. Ralph Ablethorpe andCecil De la Poer--had it.
Mr. De la Poer was a tall, slim, lantern-jawed young man, with a densemass of straight black hair, which gave him the look of a popular actorof the new Shakespearean Society, university extension sort. But forall that he had strong views, Mr. Cecil De la Poer, in mattersconnected with his profession. Not an ounce of hypocrisy about him anymore than the Hayfork. For instance, he confided to Miss Harriet Caw,who up to that moment had listened to him with considerable sympathy,real or assumed, that he was firmly resolved never to marry.
Whereupon the young woman got up in the most sprightly, stagemilkmaidish manner, caught her gown on both sides, swept him theapproved courtesy and sang--
"'Nobody axed you, sir,' she said, 'sir,' she said, 'sir,' she said; 'Nobody axed you, sir,' she said."
Then she went to her sister, and pretending to weep, took Constantia bythe hand, saying, "Come away, Stancy--it is all over. They won't marryus--they have taken a vow not to!"
"I wish," said Constantia, looking severely at her sister, "that youwould not be so ridiculous. I was quite interested in what Mr.Ablethorpe was telling me about--about the council of--councilof--whatever--it--was!"
Harriet had got hold of a handkerchief by this time, and was sobbingmost desolately into it. She had deftly taken it out of Mr. De laPeer's tail pocket, where a bit of it generally showed.
"He says it is against the true faith," she said, pointing out theculprit, who stood in an entirely correct attitude, though entirelyconscious that he was looking a fool. His hair fell about his brow indense masses, and he looked tragic.
"And I never asked him," continued Harriet; "I would scorn such anaction. I dare you to say that I did!"
The unhappy Mr. De la Poer was mute, as indeed he might well be, beforesuch treatment of his person and theories.
"And, O Constantia, it's all because we are two simple little Londongirls," she said, "that they have been playing with our youngaffections!"
Harriet heaved a sigh, and then swiftly turned on the culprit.
"And how about Peter's wife's mother, lying sick of a fever?" she criedtriumphantly. "I suppose that you don't set up to be any better thanhim? And if he had a wife's mother, surely he had a wife, too? Comeon, Stancy, you see he has not a word to say. I have a mother, too,and if she were here, she would not permit her daughter to be thusinsulted. She would have his eyes out with her knitting needles--thecrochet ones with the hooks on the top!"
"I shall not do any such thing, Harriet," said her sister calmly. "Ithink you are very absurd. Please don't mind her, Mr. De la Poer. Sitdown, and help Mr. Ablethorpe to explain about the Council of Trent,while Harriet gets Grace Rigley waked up to the idea that she is tobring in tea for four."
But Mr. De la Poer had had enough. He had never been so treated in hislife before, and somehow, even Mr. Ablethorpe's exposition of theCouncil of Trent was not quite the same thing with Mr. De la Poersitting sulking there with his palms pressed between his knees and hiseyes noting the pattern on the carpet.
So the two young men went out, and it was not till he was on hisbicycle, and mounting the hill toward Over Breckonton, that Mr. De laPoer began to find excuses for that inexcusable girl. After all,brought up as she had been in a Presbyterian household, without anytraining, even in the catechism, what could one expect, he thought.
Well, as he entered his lonely lodgings, to find the fire out and thesmell of the hastily trimmed paraffin lamp turned low on the table, Isuppose he thought that it might have done no harm if, after all, hehad waited for tea in the comfortable house at "Yarrow's." And as hewas pouring the water into a cup of cocoa--which, when tasted, turnedout to be lukewarm and tasting of coal oil--maybe Mr. De la Poer beganto think that a bright young person in a house to see to things ingeneral would be a decided acquisition--as a sister.
Since, however, owing to the prejudices of society, it would bedifficult to propose this arrangement to Miss Harriet Caw and herparents, Mr. De la Poer finished his butterless bread (he was severewith himself in matters of fasting), and arranged a paper shade cutfrom a church newspaper, so that it fell at the right angle. He thenset himself dolefully enough to compose a Sunday's sermon, which, asmay be supposed, did not enliven the scanty company of OverBreckontoners who listened to it on Sunday.
After he was gone, Mr. Ablethorpe came round to the office to see me.Our office was at the right of the shop, as it were, connecting thewholesale and the retail departments, having a window looking intoeach. My father was great on keeping his whole establishment under hisown eye.
Now, I had charge of the shop books during the temporary absence of Mr.Brown, who did not, indeed, concern himself much with anything so pettyas the retail department. But I felt very grand indeed. You see, Ihad never given up hope of seeing my father walk in with his sharp,decided tread, and ask to see the ledger. Then he would findeverything posted, and that would be my triumph.
"I have come to see you, Joseph," said Mr. Ablethorpe; "I havesomething to say to you which I have been pondering over for a longtime."
I began to wonder if he had changed his mind about marrying, and wasactually going to ask me for Constantia's hand. This made me feel more"Head of the House" than ever.
But it was something quite different, and Mr. Ablethorpe brought medown to earth again with a whop, as if I had fallen from the storerafters.
"I have been able to arrange about the three poor creatures, Honorine,Camilla, and Sidonia Orrin. They will be in safety with the GoodSisters of the Weak-minded at Thorsby. There is, therefore, no longerany object in withholding from you my confidence. I am morally certainthat carrier Harry Foster has been foully murdered, and his bodyconcealed. Further, my dear, dear boy, I fear that I cannot now giveyou much hope of a different fate for your father----"
"There I differ from you," said I stoutly.
"I am glad to hear it," he said quietly; "but I should like to know thereason of your confidence."
"Because of the message; because my father is so strong and brave; andbecau
se--because I am certain he is not dead! And then Elsie!"
He lifted his hand as if to pray me not to go into that question. Atthis I fired up.
"I have heard many things," he began; "a man in my position does!"
"Never anything against Elsie!" I was heated, and shouted.
"Certainly not! Though of another communion she has always----"
"Well, then, say no more"--I stamped my foot--"she has suffered thesame fate as my father. That accursed house has something to do withit. As yet I do not know what. But something! She has not gone awayfrom Breckonside without letting her friends know. I will not listento that from you or any other man, Mr. Ablethorpe!"
"You will not have to listen to it," said he gently, clapping memeanwhile on the far shoulder. "You are a good fellow, Joe, and I amproud to count myself among your friends. You have a sort of sneakingliking for the Old Hayfork, haven't you, Joe?"
That was the way he spoke. A fellow one couldn't be waxy with long. Itold him Yes. And I think he knew how much I liked him by what it costme to get it out.
"Yes, Joe, we do very well," he went on, "and I dare say you have notforgotten the time I sent you up the drain pipe, and the little ringsyou found?"
The matter had never wholly slipped my memory, though, of course, thelosing of my father and Elsie one after the other--mystery piled onmystery, as it were--had made me think less often about it.
I told him so.
"Well," said he, "I know more about it now, though--as you say--not yetall. It is necessary to wait a little before I have all the strings inmy hands. This, however, I will tell you. The little rings you foundwere those of the mail bags which were stolen out of Harry Foster'scart! They had been half fused in a furnace and afterwards hidden inthe place where you found them."
"But--but----" I faltered. "Do you think that--that Harry Foster wasthere too--up there where I went--in the tunnel which led from theBackwater?"
He shook his head.
"No," he said, "the rings had passed through some sort of a furnace.So almost certainly would poor Harry."
He paused for a moment, but I knew full well what he was thinking--itwas about my father.
"But why not hand the whole over to the police, if you know all thatabout the people at Deep Moat Grange?"
He laid his hand on mine and patted it.
"I learned long ago not to confound the innocent with the guilty," hesaid. "Besides, it is only now that even I begin to see little moreclearly. And the police did little enough when they were here. Isuppose you would have me deliver the rings to old Codling, and see himcrawl up the tunnel as you did?"
I saw that it was no use to contradict Mr. Ablethorpe for the present.He had still the detective fever upon him, and his manoeuvring had beenfor the purpose of getting the poor "naturals" out of harm's way, whenhe should be ready to denounce the guilty.
"By the way," he said, "do you know that for the moment I am at astandstill? Old Hobby Stennis has gone off on one of his journeys.And till he comes back I can do nothing. Your friend of the snakycurls is in sole possession of the Grange. Miss Orrin has disappeared.It must be a sweet spot! Hello, what's that?"
And through the window of the retail shop, now bright with the extralighting of Saturday night, we saw Mad Jeremy. He was bending overseveral melodeons which Tom Hunt, our first shopman, had handed down tohim, picking up one with a knowing air, trying the keys and stops, hisringlets falling about his ears, a cunning smile on his lips, and hislittle, quick, suspicious eyes darting this way and that to see whetheror not he was observed.
At last his choice fell on a most gorgeous instrument, one that hadjust come in. He asked the price, chaffed a a while for the form, andthen, drawing out a fat, well-filled pocket-book, slapped down inpayment a Clydesdale bank-note for a hundred pounds!
Deep Moat Grange Page 27
