CHAPTER VIII
SANDRINGHAM
When I got back to the comfort of the Magnifique, though my "cure" wasbut half completed, yet I determined to bring my visit to Bath to aclose; it had been too exciting. I would come back and finish thecourse of water drinking and baths some other time.
At any rate the little twinge of rheumatism in my shoulder which hadbrought me there was all gone. I think possibly the shocks ofelectricity combined with my agitation of mind had cured it.
St. Nivel and Lady Ethel, being tired of the "rough" shooting for thetime being, and perhaps having a sneaking liking for their cousin,decided to come in to Bath and take up their quarters with me at thebig hotel in the town. However, at the end of three days, beingthoroughly rested, and nothing whatever having been heard of Saumarez,I decided, finally, on account of the sensation I was creating in thehotel, which was becoming an annoyance, to accept St. Nivel'sinvitation to put in a fortnight's shooting with him at his place inNorfolk. I had the very pleasantest recollections of it, though I hadnot been there for two shooting seasons.
"If you behave yourself and are very good," explained Ethel, "perhapswe may take you to one of the big shoots at Sandringham. Jack is goingto one, and they are always glad to have an extra gun if he happens tobe such a good shot as you are."
I bowed my acknowledgments to my pretty cousin with much mock humility,but in my heart I felt very proud of the prospective honour. I hadnever yet occupied one of those much-coveted places in a royal shootingparty. Besides, I knew that the Sandringham preserves were simply_chock-full_ of pheasants and were, in fact, simply a sportsman'selysium.
"You'll be able to put in five days' shooting a week with us, Bill, ifyou like," St. Nivel said, "before we go over to Sandringham. Myinvitation is for next Thursday week, so you'll be able to get yourhand in."
This gave a much-needed change to my ideas, but before I packed up toleave Bath I went down and had another look at 190 Monmouth Street.
I rang the bell and a woman opened the door with a baby in her arms.
"I'm the sergeant's wife, please sir," she said in reply to my inquiry."We was put in here by Inspector Bull."
"Then nothing has been heard of the old lady?" I asked.
"No, sir," she replied, "nothing. The neighbours hardly knew she washere, she showed herself so seldom; but the woman that used to come inand do odd jobs for her says she's been living here ten year."
"Ten years!" I repeated in astonishment. "How on earth did she passher time?"
"The woman says, sir, she was always writing, writing all day."
"How was she fed?" I asked anxiously. "I suppose no tradesmen called?"
"No, sir," the sergeant's wife replied, "the woman I am speaking of,who lives in the country, used to come three times a week and clean upfor her, and each time she would bring her a supply of simple food,eggs and milk and such-like, to last her till she came again."
I put my hand in my pocket and gave her half a crown.
"I suppose you don't mind my looking round the house," I suggested. "Ishould like to see it once more before I leave Bath."
"Well," she said hesitatingly, "I'm afraid it's against orders, but----"
The woman who hesitates is lost; she let me in.
I went with her straight down to the sitting-room. It was locked, butshe had the key for cleaning purposes, and let me in.
"It looks very dreary now, don't it, sir," she queried, "in spite ofall the china and finery and that?"
Yes, she was right, the room by daylight looked very dismal; the brokenlooking-glass over the mantelpiece did not improve its appearance.
I would have given a good deal to have been able to open the safe againif I had had the key with me and to see if it contained any furthersecrets, but this, for the present, was out of the question.
I had, however, the satisfaction of knowing that the place was wellguarded, and was not likely to be interfered with perhaps for years. Iwent into the other rooms--the sergeant and his wife were occupying thekitchens--and found nothing there but dust. One or two were locked up,but it was perfectly impossible to see what was in them. An inspectionof the keyholes revealed only darkness. I came down from the topstorey with a sigh at its desolation.
I left the old place and walked rather sadly down the long street backto my hotel.
I wondered as I went what had become of the poor wounded old lady;whether she had died and her body was thrust away somewhere in hidingwithout Christian burial, or did she by some miracle still live? Butthis latter suggestion seemed an utter impossibility from the state inwhich I had left her. So I packed up, and on the next morning, with mytwo cousins, left the tower of Bath Abbey behind and started _en route_for Bannington Hall, the Mid Norfolk mansion of Lord St. Nivel.
The Vanboroughs were relatives of my mother's; she was one of thatnoble family, and the present peer's aunt. Dear soul, she had longsince gone to her rest, following my father, the Chancery Judge, inabout a year after his own demise.
The Vanboroughs were celebrated for their beauty, and my mother hadbeen no exception to the rule. My rather stern, sad features had, Isuppose, come from my father, but still I think I had my mother's eyes,and a look of her about the mouth when I smiled.
At least my cousin, Ethel Vanborough, said I had.
There was always something like home about dear old Bannington to me,with a sniff of the sea when you first stepped out of the carriage atthe door.
The big comfortable old landau with its pair of strong horses had now,however, given place to a smart motor car, upholstered like a littledrawing-room.
My cousin, Lord St. Nivel, was certainly fully up to date, and hissister, Lady Ethel, was, if possible, a little more so. They weretwins. Left orphans as children, the two had grown up greatly attachedto one another naturally, and being the sole survivors of a very richfamily and inheriting all its savings and residues, they had anextremely good time of it together without any great desire to exchangetheir happy brother and sisterhood for the bonds of matrimony. Stillthey were very young, being only four-and-twenty.
I spent a very happy ten days with them in the glorious old mansionfull of recollections and relics of bygone ages. Its very red brickpeacefulness had a soothing effect upon me, and I will defy any one toexperience greater comfort than we did coming in tired out after aday's tramp after the partridges--for St. Nivel was an advocate of"rough" shooting--and sitting round the great blazing fire of logs inthe hall while Ethel poured out our tea.
I will admit that Ethel and I indulged in a mild flirtation; we alwaysdid when we met, especially when we had not seen one another for sometime, which was the case in the present instance.
Still it was only a _cousinly_ flirtation and never went beyond apressure of the hand, or on very rare occasions a kiss, when we met bychance perhaps, in the gloaming of the evening, in one of the long, oldworld corridors, when no one was about.
Shooting almost every day, I soon got back into my old form again.
"Yes, you'll do," remarked my cousin, when I brought down my seventh"rocketter," in succession the day before the royal shoot. "If youshoot like that to-morrow, Bill, you'll be asked to Sandringham again!"
A few words from my cousin to the courteous old secretary had gained methe invitation I so desired; I was determined to do my very best tokeep up my reputation as a good sporting shot. We motored over thenext morning; Ethel with us. It was always understood that St. Nivel'sinvitations included her, in fact, she was a decided favourite in theroyal circle, and being an expert photographer, handy with hersnapshotter, always had something interesting to talk about when shecame across the Greatest Lady.
We found the members of the shooting party lounging about the terrace,for the most part smoking and waiting for their host. Several motorcars were in readiness to carry them off to the various plantations.
Presently our host arrived, and we were complete; I heard him remark toone of the guests as he got into hi
s car--
"There are three more of those lazy fellows to arrive," he said,laughing, "but they must come on by themselves in another car."
Our first shot was on the Wolverton Road about half-way down towardsthe station, and here the birds were as plentiful as blackberries. Inever before had seen such a head of game. The beaters entered theplantations in a row, standing close together, and moved _one step_ ata time, each step sending out perhaps a dozen pheasants, who were, as arule, quickly disposed of by the guns around.
Of course there were exceptions: there were those who missed theirbirds both barrels time after time, or still worse sent them awaysorely wounded with their poor shattered legs hanging helplessly down.
These were the sort of shots who were not required at Sandringham, and,as a rule, were not asked again. I, however, was fortunate; being ingood practice and cool, I brought down my birds one after the other, asSt. Nivel remarked afterwards, "like a bit of clockwork," and I hadthe satisfaction of hearing our host inquire who I was. We hadfinished one plantation very satisfactorily, as the heaps of deadpheasants testified, and were moving off to the next when I got a shock.
A motor car came rushing on to the road, and stopped quite near towhere I was strolling along in conversation with one of the equerries.
"Ah! you lazy fellows!" exclaimed our host, "you are losing all thebest of the sport."
A well-known foreign nobleman, a tall, dark, handsome fellow, got outfirst and advanced full of apologies, hat in hand.
My glance was fixed upon his very prepossessing face and I did not atthe moment notice the gentleman who followed him. When I did I startedviolently and the equerry walking with me asked what was the matter.
"Nothing is the matter particularly," I answered, passing my handbefore my eyes, "but can you tell me the name of that gentleman who hasjust got out of the car?"
"You mean the red-faced man with the black imperial?" he suggested.
"Yes," I answered.
"Oh! That is some Bavarian duke," he answered, "not royal, but aSerene Somebody. I forget his name myself, but I will ask some one,and tell you."
A friend in the Household was passing at the time and he caught his armand whispered him a question.
"Yes, of course," he said, turning again to me; "he is the DukeRittersheim, one of those small German principalities swept away longago, and of which only the title and the family estates remain."
I turned and took another look at His Serene Highness. Yes, Duke ofRittersheim or not, the red-faced, dark-haired foreigner, who wasadvancing half cringingly, hat in hand and full of apologies, was noneother than Saumarez, the man who had tried to torture me in the towerof Cruft's Folly!
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