thick black coat, close cap and veil.
"I hope we sha'n't get a break-down," Tibbie said, with a laugh. "Ireally ought to take Webber with me," she added, referring to her smartchauffeur. "But how can I?"
"No," I said. "Drive yourself and risk it. I know you can change atyre or mend a puncture as well as any man." Whereat she laughed.
"Very well," she said, "let us go," and we crossed the Long Gallery anddescended the wide oak stairs, Mason carrying the candle, which sheafterwards blew out.
Upon my suggestion, we made our exit by that same window through whichEric and I had passed earlier in the night. Mistress and maid scrambledthrough, and I assisted them down upon the grass.
Then we slipped across to where the car was, opened the door, and afterSybil had mounted into her place Mason and I pushed the fine "Mercedes"slowly out, while she steered it down the incline to the avenue.
She let it run twenty yards or so, and afterwards put on the brake toallow her maid to mount beside her. Then after I had tucked the ruground her legs, she gripped my hand tightly and meaningly, saying in alow voice,--
"Thanks so much, Mr Hughes. Good-bye."
"Good-bye," I whispered. "_Bon voyage_."
And slowly the long powerful car glided off almost noiselessly down theincline, and was a moment later lost in the darkness of the greatavenue.
I stood peering into the blackness, but in a few moments could hear nofurther sound. She had escaped, leaving me utterly mystified andwondering.
When, ten minutes later, I returned to Eric and described her silentdeparture, he said,--
"So you're going to meet her in town--eh?"
"Yes, in secret, on Thursday night. She has made an appointment. Shewill leave Mason in Bournemouth, and then simply disappear. By the timeMason returns here the dead man will be in his coffin, therefore shewon't have any opportunity of identifying him."
"But there'll be a hue and cry after her. The police will think thatsomething has happened to her."
"Let them think. We shall pretend to make inquiries and assist them.In the meantime, with all these letters and things in our hands, we holdthe trump cards."
"If Tibbie knew that we had her letters, I wonder what she would say--how she would act?"
"She no doubt fears that they may fall into the hands of the police.That is why she is disappearing."
"Of course. And for the present she must be allowed to remain in thatbelief," Eric replied. "I wonder who the man Parham is? We mustinquire. On Sydenham Hill are some rather nice houses. I once knew arather pretty girl who lived in that neighbourhood, and used to take herfor evening walks up the hill to the Crystal Palace."
"Yes," I said. "We must discover all we can about the dead man'sfriends. We must also call and see the pawnbroker in the Fulham Road.He may be able to tell us who pledged the watch and ring. Indeed, wemight get them out of pawn and see whether there are any remarks orinscription that will tell us anything."
With my suggestion he entirely agreed, and for a second time we re-readthose curious letters of the woman who was now flying into hiding, andwhom I had promised to meet and assist.
I had placed myself in a very difficult and dangerous position. Of thatI was well aware. I hoped, however, to save her. Too well I knew thatshe was in desperation, that she had seriously contemplated suicideuntil she had resolved to make her appeal for my sympathy and help.
Yet she was under the impression that I was as yet in ignorance of thistragedy, although in her white, terrified countenance I saw guiltdistinctly written.
I took counsel with Eric. He was entirely against the very dangerouspart that I had now promised to play, saying,--"I can't for the life ofme see what motive she can have. To hide is all very well--to buryherself in a working-class suburb and pretend to be poor is certainly amuch safer plan than endeavouring to slip across to the Continent. Butwhy does she want you to act as her husband? Not for appearances' sake,surely! And yet if she hadn't a very strong motive she would not thusrun the very great risk of compromising herself. She respects you, too,therefore all the stronger reason why she would never ask you to placeyourself in that awkward position. No, old fellow," he declared,seating himself upon the edge of my bed, "I can't make it out at all."
"Of course, it has to do with the affair of yesterday," I remarked.
"Undoubtedly. It has some connection with it, but what it is we can'tyet discern."
"I can only act as she suggests," I remarked.
"I fear you can't do anything else," he said, after a pause. "Onlyyou'll have to be most careful and circumspect, for I can foresee dangerahead. Tibbie's clever enough, but she is erratic sometimes, and oneuntimely word of hers may upset everything. I hardly like the idea ofyou posing as her husband, Wilfrid. I tell you plainly that I have somedistinct premonition of evil--forgive me for saying so."
"I hope not. I'm only consenting to it for her sake."
"Because you are still just a little bit fond of her, old fellow. Now,confess it."
"I'm not, Eric. I swear to you I'm not. We could never marry. We areno longer lovers."
"I hope not," he said in an altered tone. "But pretended love-making isalways dangerous, you know."
"Well," I said, pacing up the old tapestried room and down again, "let'sleave love out of the question. What I intend to do is to save Tibbie,and at the same time find out the truth. You, Eric, will help me, won'tyou?"
"With all my heart, my dear chap," he said. "But--well, somehow I havehad lately a very faint suspicion of one thing; and that is, I believeEllice Winsloe is deeply in love with her. I've seen it in his face.If so, you and I have to reckon with him."
"How?"
"Because as soon as she disappears he'll commence making eager inquiriesand trying to trace her. His inquiries may lead him in our direction,don't you see. Besides, it would be awkward if he found you down atCamberwell."
I was silent. There was a good deal of truth in what he said. EricDomville always had a knack of looking far ahead. He was what isvulgarly known as "a far-seeing man."
"But don't you think that when I'm a compositor in a well-worn tweedsuit and a threadbare overcoat with wages of two pounds a week I'll bebeyond the pale and safe from recognition?"
"That's all very well, but the working-class are intelligent. They'lleasily see through a gentleman's disguise."
"I quite agree," I said. "There is no more intelligent class than theworking-class in London, or indeed in any of the big cities of theNorth. It is the working-man who is the back-bone of England, afterall. The capitalist may direct and public companies may manoeuvre, butit is the skilled labourer who has made England what she is. Yes, I'mquite with you there. I shall have to exert all my tact if I'm to passas a printer among working-men. Yet Tibbie's idea that I should be on amorning paper and be out at work at night is an ingenious one, isn'tit?"
"Ingenious? Why, isn't she one of the very cleverest women in England?"he asked. "I say that she is as unequalled for her ingenuity as for herbeauty. Therefore, Wilfrid, have a care. I'll help you--unknown toTibbie, of course--but I beg of you to be careful. And now let's turnin for an hour or so. We must be astir and alert to-morrow, for ourwork of fathoming the mystery must commence at once. We must be allears and eyes. We already hold the honours in our hand, it is true; butmuch very difficult and dangerous work lies before us."
"Never mind," I said. "We must save her, Eric. We must save her at allhazards!"
CHAPTER EIGHT.
MAINLY ABOUT THE STRANGER.
When next morning the tragedy in the wood became known the wholehousehold was agog.
It was discussed at the breakfast-table, and Scarcliff, Wydcombe, ElliceWinsloe and myself agreed to walk down to the village and ascertain thefacts. Eric remained behind to drive Lady Wydcombe into Chichester ashe had arranged on the previous evening.
About half-past ten we four men walked down the avenue into the village,where we found the
constable with two other officers in plain clothes.Great consternation had, of course, been created by the startling news,and the whole village seemed to be gossiping at the doors, and formingwild theories concerning the death of the unfortunate unknown.
After making inquiries of the constables, and hearing details of whichI, of course, was already aware, Scarcliff asked leave to view the body.
"Certainly, m'lord," was Booth's prompt reply, and we moved offtogether.
My great fear was that the village constable should remark upon myprevious visit to him,
Whatsoever a Man Soweth Page 10
