by Guy Boothby
CHAPTER XI
Between the time of Murbridge's funeral and his own arrival atChilderbridge, Jim had plenty of leisure to consider his position, andto make up his mind as to how much he should let Alice know of theother's story.
After mature consideration, he decided that he had better tell hereverything. Yet it had been such a painful shock to himself that hecould well understand how it would affect her.
It was mid-morning when he arrived at Childerbridge, and Alice hadwalked down to the gates to meet him. He alighted from the carriage onseeing her, and they strolled across the park together.
"I have been so anxious to hear from you," she said, linking her armthrough her brother's. "What have you to tell me? Did you find thatwretched man?"
"Yes, I found him," he answered, "and he was dying."
She paused for a moment before she put the next question.
"And did he confess?"
"No," said Jim. "I firmly believe I wronged him in suspecting him of--ofwhat happened. But I made another discovery, and one, I fear, that willcause you some astonishment and not a little pain. I learnt from himthat his name was not Murbridge, but McCalmont."
"McCalmont?" she echoed, as if she did not understand. "But that was ourmother's maiden name."
"Exactly," said Jim, "and he was her brother!"
Alice looked at him in horrified surprise.
"Oh, Jim," she answered, "surely such a thing cannot be possible?"
"I am afraid it is only too true," Jim replied. "His story was mostcircumstantial. He was our mother's youngest brother, and was, I am verymuch afraid, a disgrace to the family."
"But if he had been our mother's brother, why did he entertain such adeadly hatred for our father?" she asked.
"For the simple reason that father had been successful, while he hadbeen the reverse," Jim replied. "I rather fancy the poor old governorhad helped him out of one or two of his worst scrapes, and such beingthe perverse nature of mankind, he hated him for the very benefits hehad received from him."
They walked some distance in silence.
"Poor, wretched man," said Alice at last. "Oh, Jim, you don't know howthankful I am that he was not the author of that terrible crime. Andnow, before we say anything further, there's one thing I must talk toyou about."
"What is that?" he enquired.
"It is about Helen," she answered. "I met her in the village thismorning. I don't want to frighten you, but she is looking very ill. Sheseems to have come to look years older within the last few days. Thereis a frightened expression on her face that haunts me even now."
Jim was troubled. This was bad news indeed.
"Did she give you any reason for it?" he enquired.
"She tried to account for it by saying that her grandfather had not beenat all well lately, and that she had had rather a trying time with him."
"Alice," said Jim, after the short pause that ensued, "I have come tothe conclusion that old Bursfield is insane. Helen did not tell you, Isuppose, that he uttered all sorts of threats against me the other day.For some reason or another he has taken an intense dislike to me."
"She said nothing about it," Alice answered. "I am sorry for her. Whatis best to be done, do you think?"
"It is difficult to say," Jim answered. "One thing is quite certain. Shecannot go on living with him if he is to continue in this strain. Undersuch circumstances there is a limit even to a woman's fidelity. I mustendeavour to see her as soon as possible."
"Would it do for me to go and see her, do you think?" asked Alice. "Ishould then be able to tell you something definite about Mr. Bursfield'scondition."
Jim shook his head.
"No," he said, "such a thing would not be wise. I must think the matterover and see what is best to be done."
By the time he reached the house he had arrived at a conclusion.
"Do you remember, Alice," he said, "that clever young doctor that we metat the Caltrops on the evening that we dined with them, soon after ourarrival in England? His name was Weston. Mrs. Caltrop declared that,before many years were past, he would be a recognised authority onmental diseases."
"I remember him quite well," Alice answered. "He took me in to dinner,and was so interested in Australia. He had a brother in Sydney, I think.What about him."
"Well, I have made up my mind to telegraph to Mrs. Caltrop for hisaddress, and having got it, to wire and ask him to come down and see Mr.Bursfield. He would be able to tell me then whether or not it is safefor Helen to go on living with him. If he says not, then she must leavehim at once."
"I should think it would be a very good plan, provided always that youcan get Mr. Bursfield to see him. You will find that the difficulty."
"Not at all," Jim answered. "I have a scheme that I think will answer.At any rate we will try it."
A telegram was accordingly despatched to Mrs. Caltrop, asking her toforward the address of the doctor in question. This done, Jim sent forTerence.
"Well, Terence," he said, when the latter made his appearance, "any signof the Black Dwarf during my absence?"
"Never a one, sir," Terence replied. "I kept my eyes and ears open allnight, and waited about after dark, but there's not been so much as amouse stirring."
"I am glad to hear it," Jim remarked, and then gave Terence a briefdescription of his visit to London, and of what he had discovered there.
"Then if it wasn't he as did it," said Terence, "who could it havebeen?"
Before he answered, Jim looked at the door, as if to make sure that itwas closed.
"Terence," he said, "I am gradually coming to the conclusion that theBlack Dwarf, whoever he may be, was responsible for it."
"I've thought of that myself, sir," Terence replied.
"In the first place, he was seen by one of the maid-servants in thegallery on the night that my father was murdered."
"Don't they say, sir, as how another gentleman was murdered in the sameway in this house?"
"I believe there is some legend to that effect," said Jim, "but how trueit is, I cannot say. I don't think, however, we need take thatcircumstance into consideration."
"Then what are we to do, sir?"
"Watch and wait until we catch him," Jim replied. "When we've done thatwe shall be satisfied whether he is flesh or blood or not, and if he is,by what right he dares to enter my house."
There was a lengthy pause, then with a diffidence that was somewhatunusual with him, Terence said:
"You'll excuse me, sir, I hope, for saying such a thing, but between youand me, sir, I cannot help thinking that we was happier at Mudrapilla."
Jim heaved a heavy sigh. A longing to be back in the old home, and to beengaged in the pursuits he had been brought up to from a boy, had beenwith him a great deal of late.
"Yes," he said. "I think we were happier at Gundawurra. I must go backthere soon, Terence, if only for a whiff of Bush air. I am very muchafraid that playing the fine gentleman in England does not suit me."
When the other had left the room, Jim lay back in his chair and fellinto a reverie. He closed his eyes, and was transported back to the oldhome where he had been born, and where he had spent his happiest days.How sweet it would be to settle down there some day, with Helen as hiswife. He tried hard to realise the day's work upon the run; thehome-coming at night, to find Helen at the gate waiting for him; theevenings spent in the cool verandah, with the moon rising above theriver timber. Then he came back to the very real anxieties of thepresent. An hour later a message came from Mrs. Caltrop. It was asfollows:
"Doctor Weston, Harley Street."
Whereupon he took another telegraph form and wired to the doctor to theeffect that he would be grateful if he could make it convenient totravel down to Childerbridge that afternoon. In order that the lattermight understand from whom the message emanated, he added the words,"Met you at dinner at Mrs. Caltrop's." Luncheon was scarcely finishedbefore a message arrived from the doctor saying that he would endeavourto be at Childerbridge at four o'c
lock. Accordingly at half-past threeJim drove to the railway station to await his coming. Punctual to themoment the train steamed into the station, and he looked about among thepassengers for the man he wanted.
Presently he descried him coming along the platform--a tall,good-looking man, resembling a soldier more than a Harley Streetphysician.
"Mr. Standerton, I believe," he said as he approached Jim.
"And you are Doctor Weston, of course," the latter answered with asmile.
"Now," said the doctor, "I will commence, Mr. Standerton, by saying thatit is absolutely necessary that I should catch the six o'clock trainback to London."
"I will arrange that you do so," Jim replied, and then the doctorsurrendered his ticket and they strolled out of the station. "Now,perhaps, I had better tell you my reasons for asking you to come downto-day. Shall we walk a little way along the road. I have no desire tobe overheard. I will now make you acquainted with the facts of the case,in order that you may go direct to the house of the gentleman I want youto see."
"He is not a member of your own family, then?" the doctor enquired.
"No, he is no sort of relation. In fact, I had not seen him until a fewmonths ago."
They paused beside a gate and faced each other.
"I gather that it is rather an unusual case?" the doctor remarked.
"A very unusual one," Jim replied. "The matter stands in this way. I amengaged to a young lady who is the adopted granddaughter of thegentleman in question."
The doctor nodded, but said nothing. He listened attentively, while Jimtold his tale, explained his fears for Helen's safety, and described thethreats the old gentleman had made use of concerning himself.
When he had finished Dr. Weston drew some lines on the ground with thepoint of his umbrella, as if he were working out a difficultcalculation.
"This is certainly a singular case, Mr. Standerton," he said at last."You are not connected with this gentleman in any way, and he, notapproving of your marriage with his granddaughter, has forbidden you hishouse. The young lady's only reason for believing him to be a littleweak in his intellect is his treatment of you. I really do not knowwhether, under the circumstances, I should be justified in seeing him."
Jim's heart sank. He had not looked at the matter from this point ofview. Observing his disappointment, the doctor smiled.
"Nevertheless," he continued, "I will see him, provided you will give meyour promise that my report shall be considered a purely confidentialone."
"Am I to understand that I am not to acquaint Miss Decie or my sisterwith your decision?"
"Of course, I will allow you to tell them, and equally, of course,provided it goes no further."
"In that case I will give you my promise most willingly," said Jim.
"And now the question comes as to how I can obtain my interview withhim."
"I have thought out a plan that should enable you to do that," Jimreplied. "I happen to know that for a long time past he has been engagedin writing a history of the neighbourhood, and my house in particularwhich at one time was the property of his family."
"Quite so; and the ruins a mile or two back, what are they called?"
"Clevedon Castle," Jim answered. "I believe it was destroyed byCromwell."
"That should answer my purpose. And now with your permission I willdrive to his house--not in your carriage, but in a cab. I shall see youafterwards, I presume?"
"I will wait for you here, or at my own house, whichever you please,"said Jim.
"Your house, I think, would be better," the doctor answered. "I willdrive there directly I leave Mr.----. By-the-way, you have not told mehis name or given me his address."
Jim furnished him with both, and then the doctor hailed a fly and droveaway.
It was nearly half-past five before Jim was informed by Wilkins that Dr.Weston had called, and that he had been shown to the study.
He immediately proceeded thither, to find the doctor sitting before thefire.
"Well, Mr. Standerton," he began, "I have seen Mr. Bursfield, and havehad rather a curious interview with him."
"And what decision have you come to?"
"Well, I think your supposition is correct. Not to be technical, I mightsay that he is not really responsible for his actions. While wediscussed archaeology, and the history of the neighbourhood, he wasrational enough, but when I chanced to touch upon this house, and yourconnection with it, his whole demeanour changed. If I were in your placeI should avoid him as much as possible, for there can be no doubt thathe would do you a mischief if he could. As for Miss Decie, I would notadvise you to persuade her to leave him, at least not at present. Itwould in all probability immediately produce unfavourable results, andin so doing might snap the frail link that still connects him withSanity. The influence she exerts over him, where you are not concerned,is undoubtedly a beneficial one."
"Am I to consider that she is safe with him?"
"I should say so," the doctor replied. "Of course, if he has many moreof these paroxysms of rage it might be necessary for her to leave him.But she must be the best judge of that. Doubtless you can arrange thatwith her. And now I must be getting back to the railway station; if Iwish to catch my train I have not much time to lose."
"I am exceedingly obliged to you, Doctor Weston," said Jim gratefully."I cannot say that you have made my mind easier, but you have at leastlet me know exactly how matters stand with Mr. Bursfield."
"I am glad to have been of service," said the doctor.
James handed him an envelope containing his fee, and escorted him to thedoor. When he had seen him depart he returned to the drawing-room andcommunicated his intelligence to his sister.
"Poor Helen," said Alice, "it is no wonder that she looks anxious. Whatwill you do now, Jim?"
"I must take the night to think the matter over," he answered. "Sincethe old man is undoubtedly mad, and not only mad, but dangerously so, Icannot bear to contemplate her remaining with him, and yet I have nodesire to hasten the crisis."
All the evening Jim brooded over the matter, imagining all sorts ofdangers for the woman he loved. At last the time came for them to retireto rest. He was in the act of lighting Alice's candle in the hall, whenthe sound of steps on the gravel path outside attracted his attention.
"Good gracious!" cried Jim, "who on earth can it be at this time of thenight?"
So saying, he hastened to the door. The lights from the hall shone onthe steps, and showed him Helen Decie, standing, bareheaded, before him.For a moment the shock at seeing her there at such an hour, and in sucha plight, deprived him of speech. Alice was the first to break thesilence.
"Helen, my dear girl," she cried, "what does this mean?"
Then Helen stepped into the hall, and James closed the door behind her.He had scarcely done so, before she gave a little cry and fell to thefloor in a dead faint. Picking her up, Jim carried her to the big setteein the centre.
"My poor girl," he cried, "what has he done to you?" Then, turning toAlice, he added, "What can have happened?"
She did not answer him, but sped upstairs to her bedroom, to presentlyreturn with a bottle of smelling salts. Under their restorativeinfluence, consciousness very soon returned, and Helen looked about herin a dazed fashion, as if she could not realise where she was.
"Do you feel well enough to tell what has taken place, dear?" Jim asked,when she had so far recovered as to be able to sit up. "What has broughtyou here bareheaded at this time of night?"
"My grandfather has turned me out of his house," she answeredfalteringly.
"Turned you out of the house?" repeated both Jim and Alice together.Then Alice added: "Surely not? He ought to be turned out himself."
"You must not be angry with him," said Helen. "I really don't think heknows what he is doing."
"But this is an unheard-of thing," Jim said angrily. "He must have takenleave of his senses."
"He accused me of being in league with you to poison him, and bade mecome to an instant decision as
to whether I would give you up or leavethe house."
"And my noble girl refused to give me up?" said James, kissing her hand.
"Helen acted nobly," said Alice. "Never mind, dear, you know where yourreal friends are, don't you?"
"But whatever shall I do?" the girl put in. "He bade me leave the houseand never come back again."
"We will arrange all that to-morrow," Jim replied. "For to-night, Alicewill take care of you. Do not worry, dear heart, all will come right inthe end."
Then he proceeded to inform her of Dr. Weston's visit that afternoon,and of the report that gentleman had given of the old gentleman's mentalcondition.
"I cannot tell why," she said, "but I had some sort of suspicion that hecame for that purpose. Poor grandfather, how sad it is to think of hisbeing like this. Since he does not know what he is doing, we should notbe angry with him for acting as he did."
At this juncture Alice departed to make arrangements for her friend'scomfort for the night.
"Oh, Jim dear, what do you think will become of me?" Helen asked. "Thinkfor me, for I cannot think for myself."
"I think I can hazard a very good guess what your fate will be," saidJim. "To-morrow morning I shall go up to London to obtain a speciallicense, and the day after you shall become my wife."
