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A Double Knot

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Год написания книги: 2017
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“John,” she whispered, as her fingers strayed over the keys, and her voice was rather sad.

“My darling,” he said softly.

“Do you know what it is to feel so happy that it seems as if it could not last?”

“Yes,” he said, bending lower over her; “I have felt so ever since the day when you consented to be my little wife, and still it lasts.”

The piano was again going softly, and for the third time Gertrude sang, in a voice that lulled the old gentleman off to sleep, “Love’s young dream.”

“Let it be always ‘Love’s young dream,’” whispered Huish, as he sank down on one knee beside the music-stool. “Gertrude, darling, I am so happy that it is like being in a dream, one from which we will never let the world wake us with its troubles.”

She let her head rest upon his shoulder, and her arm was thrown tightly round his neck.

“Yes,” she whispered; “let us dream.”

“Yes,” he replied, “we two always. I can feel that here within these arms I hold all the world – that heaven has been so bounteous to me that I can never be sufficiently grateful, and – ”

He rose quickly, for there was a step outside, and a servant entered.

“If you please, sir, there are two gentlemen want to see you downstairs.”

Huish turned pale, for a strange sense of coming trouble flashed upon him.

“Did they send up their names?” he said, recovering himself.

“No, sir, only said would you be kind enough to step down, sir, without disturbing my mistress. It was something particular.”

“Is anything wrong, John?” said Gertrude earnestly.

“Wrong? No, my dear, I hope not. Some bit of business: people for a subscription or something. I shall be back directly. Go on playing, or we shall wake your father.”

She nodded and smiled as she resumed her seat at the piano; and as Huish went quietly out of the room, the sad strain of olden days his wife was playing seemed to grow more and more mournful when the notes were muffled by the closed door.

“Where are the gentlemen, Jane?” he said quietly.

“In the dining-room, sir,” said the girl, with a strange look; and as he entered she stood waiting on the mat.

One of the gas-burners was alight, and Huish started as, on entering the room, he found himself face to face with a dark, stern-looking man, and a policeman, who immediately placed his back against the door.

“Is anything the matter?” said Huish quickly.

“Well, yes, a little,” said the stern, dark man. “Mr Huish – John Huish?”

“Yes; I am John Huish.”

“Then you are my prisoner, Mr John Huish; here is the warrant. Smith – cuffs!”

“Stop! One minute!” exclaimed Huish excitedly. “What does this mean?”

“Only the end of the little game, sir,” said the dark, stern man. “Long lane that has no turning. Turning’s come at last!”

“I do not understand you. Some mistake.”

“Yes, sir, these matters always are little mistakes. Are you ready?”

“No! Stop!” cried Huish. “Send that man away. You need not secure me. I will go with you.”

The stern man relaxed a little, and smiled.

“Won’t do,” he said. “We’ve had too much trouble to run you down, sir. You well-educated ones are too precious clever. We’ve got a cab waiting.”

“But my wife – my – we have company here.”

“There, come along, sir, and get away quietly without letting them know. It’s no use trying any dodges on, because we’ve got you, and don’t mean to let you slip.”

“Tell me at least what it means!” cried Huish.

“The big burglary last night, if you want to know for which little game it is; but don’t be uneasy.”

“My hat and overcoat,” said Huish quickly. “Get me away quietly, so that they do not see upstairs. I tell you, man, that I will not try to escape you. I have only to go to the station to explain that this is a mistake.”

“Get the gentleman’s hat and coat,” said the plain-clothes officer; and the policeman opened the door so suddenly that the maid was caught listening.

“Jane, here, quick!” cried Huish. “Tell your mistress after we are gone that I am suddenly called away on business.”

“And won’t be back to-night, my dear,” said the officer. “Now, sir, are you ready?”

Huish nodded, feeling confused and prostrated by the suddenness of the seizure. For a moment he half felt disposed to resist, but he refrained, and, stepping into the hall, the girl opened the door just as Dick came up the steps.

“Why, Huish!” he cried in astonishment.

“Hush!” cried the other. “Not a word to Gertrude. There is some mistake. Go up to your father, and bring him round to the station. It will be a question of bail, eh, constable?”

“Yes, sir, I should think it would,” said the officer drily; and, taking his prisoner’s wrist, he hurried him into the cab.

“Then it must be all true about him, and he’s caught at last,” muttered Dick, whose throat felt dry and lips parched. “Poor little Gertrude! What will her ladyship say?”

He stood thinking of what he should do as the cab rolled away, and then entered slowly, feeling that he must leave matters a good deal to chance. But the deepest-laid scheme of breaking the news would have been blown to the winds, for the maid had hurried up open-mouthed to blurt out to Gertrude that master had been took, and that they were going to handcuff him and put him to prison for burglary.

“Is this girl mad, Dick?” said Gertrude, who was trembling violently, while Sir Humphrey stood up hardly yet awake.

“Some cock-and-bull nonsense – a blunder, I suppose,” replied Dick hastily.

“But she says the police – have taken my husband.”

“They – they – they are always making these confounded blunders, my dear,” exclaimed the old man. “There, there, be quiet, my dear. Dick and I will go and see.”

“Yes, father, I was going to propose it. John wishes us to go. There, Gertrude, don’t be stupid. I’ve no doubt it’s all right.”

“Dick,” she cried, catching his arm and gazing in his face; “you don’t think so. There is some great trouble. What is it?”

“I don’t know – I can’t tell; only that you are hindering us when we might be of service to John. Be a woman, Gertrude, and take all that comes as a wife should. There, there, don’t cry. I’ll come back as soon as I can.”

“I must go with you,” she cried. “If my husband is in prison my place is by his side.”

“Yes, yes, my dear,” said the old man querulously; “that’s what they say in books, but the law won’t stand it. Come along, Dick. I say, my boy,” he whispered, as they reached the hall, “it’s precious hard on me that my sons-in-law should get into such scrapes. What has John been doing?”

“Heaven knows, father, but I fear the worst,” whispered Dick; but his words were heard upstairs by Gertrude, who was leaning over the balustrade, and the poor girl staggered back into the little drawing-room to sob as if her heart would break.

“But I must be a woman and act,” she said, drying her eyes hastily; and ringing, she despatched the girl with a short note to her sister, begging her to come back in the cab directly with the messenger. Then she sat down patiently to wait, after declining the cook’s offer of help.

Ten minutes afterwards there was a quick ring at the bell, and the remaining servant answered the door.

Gertrude ran to the landing, and glanced down, to utter a cry of joy, for at that moment a well-known voice exclaimed roughly:

“Where is your mistress?” and she ran down to meet her husband in the hall.

John Huish seemed to Gertrude greatly excited and hurried. There was something strange, too, in his way which she could not understand, but set it down to that which he had gone through.

“Oh, John,” she began, clinging to him; but he checked her, keeping his face half averted, and speaking in a harsh whisper.

“Hush!” he exclaimed. “Not a word. Go down.”

This to the servant, who tossed her head at the imperative order and left the hall.

“Now,” he said, “quick – your hat and jacket! I have a cab waiting.”

“Are we going out, dear?” she said inquiringly. “I have just sent for Renée.”

“How foolish!” he cried. “But waste no time.”

“Where are we going?” she asked, wondering at his strange, impetuous manner.

“Don’t waste time, dear,” he cried, “but get ready. You shall know all as we go.”

Gertrude’s tears began to flow and half blinded her, but she hurried away to prepare herself, while Huish walked quickly from room to room, muttering impatiently. Not that there was much need, for Gertrude reappeared at the end of a minute or two, rapidly tying on her hat, to find the gas turned down.

“I am ready, dear,” she said, laying her hand upon his arm.

“That’s right,” he cried. “Come along!”

“Shall I tell cook how long we shall be?” said Gertrude.

“No, no. Come along,” he cried impatiently, and, hurrying her out of the house, he helped her into a cab. “Cannon Street Station,” he cried to the driver, and jumping in beside her, the cab rattled off.

“Are we going to leave town, dear?”

“You’ll soon see,” he cried. “I can’t talk to you now; the cab-wheels make so much noise. Can’t you trust me?”

“Oh yes,” she cried, laying her hand upon his arm, “but you forget how anxious I am to know more.”

“Well, well, be patient,” he cried. “There, if you must know, I have been short of money.”

“Yes, dear, of course. I knew. You forget,” she said piteously.

“Yes, of course,” he replied. “Well, I was arrested for debt, and I have got away. We must stay in private – there, I’ll speak plainly – in hiding for a time.”

“Oh, John dear, this is very terrible!” she cried. “Why not go to Uncle Robert? He would help us, I am sure.”

“Yes, perhaps so. We will settle that afterwards. The first thing is to get to a place of safety.”

“Safety, John dear?”

“Well, you don’t want me to remain in prison?” he said.

“Oh no, dear,” she cried, clinging to him. “But, Dick – my father!”

“What about them?” he said sharply.

“What did they say to you?”

“When? How?” he asked.

“They came after you, dear,” she said simply.

“Oh yes; they are busy with the police, of course.”

She sat listening to the noise of the cab-wheels as it rattled along in the direction of the City.

Nothing more was said till the vehicle drew up, when Huish leaped out and helped her to alight. He then handed the cabman a liberal fare and exclaimed: “Come along, or we shall miss the train.”

He hurried her into the station, along the platform, and into the waiting-room.

“Sit down a minute,” he exclaimed, and he went to the door to look out, but returned directly, looking so strange that Gertrude shrank from him involuntarily, and had to make an effort to master a curious feeling of repugnance which came over her.

He drew her arm quickly through his, and, bidding her lower her veil, led her hastily out of the station, across the road and into a narrow lane.

“Are we not going by train?” she asked.

“No; it is too late. Just gone. Come along, and don’t talk.”

She hurried along by his side, for he was walking very fast, and only noticed that they went through a perfect maze of narrow turnings, now up, now down, Huish stopping from time to time to look back to see if they were followed.

He kept this up for nearly an hour, and Gertrude was getting hot and exhausted, when he turned sharply into a darker and narrower lane, glancing rapidly up and down the deserted place with its two or three lamps and dimly-lighted public-house. The next moment he had thrust her into a heavy doorway, there was a rattle of a latch-key, and Gertrude felt herself drawn into a dark passage, and the door was closed.

“John!” she whispered, as the tremor which had before attacked her returned.

“Safe at last!” he muttered, drawing his breath with a low hiss, and not heeding her. “Tired?”

“Rather, dear,” she panted. “But, John, what place is this?”

“My sanctuary,” he said, in a peculiar voice. “Give me your hand. Come along. I’ll tell you when the stairs begin.”

He led her along the dark passage, and a strange chill of dread struck upon Gertrude. As they reached the first landing, a light suddenly shone out, and a few steps higher she gazed wonderingly at the weird figure of an old woman, with long, grey, unkempt hair, holding an ill-smelling paraffin lamp high above her head.

There was an intent, curious, inquiring look in the old woman’s eyes, as they seemed to fasten upon the new-comer, gradually growing vindictive, as they passed her without a word.

“Who is that?” whispered Gertrude.

“Servant,” said Huish laconically. “Won’t make you jealous, eh?”

“John,” she whispered back in a pained voice; “why do you speak to me like that?”

“Oh, it’s only my way,” he said flippantly. “Come along.”

They went up farther, and, reaching the second floor, Huish threw open the door of a comfortable, well-lit room, and drew her in, hastily opened the door of communication with the next room, satisfied himself that it was empty, went on and locked the farther door leading out to the landing, and returned.

“There,” he said; “you will be safe here.”

“Oh yes, John dear,” she said, gazing at him wonderingly, “his manner seemed so strange; but I am so anxious to know.”

“Yes, yes; all in good time, dear,” he cried. “There, off with that hat and jacket. Why, my dear,” he cried, “you look lovely!”

There was a hot red spot in his cheeks as he spoke in a curiously excited way, and Gertrude felt a strange sense of shrinking as he hastily snatched away her jacket, threw it on a chair, and clasped her in his arms.

“John,” she cried, struggling to free herself, “look! look!”

He loosed his grasp and turned suddenly upon a figure which stood right in the doorway, that of a tall handsome woman, looking ghastly pale, and her great eyes dilated with rage and surprise. She had evidently risen from a sick couch, and wore a long loose white dressing-gown, which, with her long dark hair flowing over her shoulders, gave her an almost supernatural look, heightened by the silence in which she gazed from one to another.

“What are you doing here?” cried Huish sharply. “I thought you were in bed – ill.”

“I was,” replied the woman slowly, “till I heard you return.”

“Go back to it then,” he said brutally; “why do you come here?”

Gertrude shrank back towards the couch, as the woman slowly entered, with her eyes fixed fiercely upon her, and the door swung to.

“Who is this?” she cried, in a low angry voice.

“Take no notice of her. I will get her away,” whispered Huish, crossing to Gertrude’s side. “She is mad!”

“No, girl, I am not mad,” said the woman sternly; for her hearing seemed to have been sharpened by her illness, and she had heard every word. “John Huish,” she said sternly, “answer me – who is this?”

Gertrude’s eyes dilated with horror. She was confused and startled. She could not comprehend her position or why they were there; and as the recollection of the happy evening she had spent came to mingle with the chaos of fancies and surmises that bewildered her brain, it seemed to her like some strange nightmare, from which she felt that she would soon awake into peace and repose.

To make the scene more impressive, the heavy, deep booming of a clock striking midnight floated into the room with a strange jangle of other bells, some slow, some hurried, all bent on proclaiming the same fact – that another day was dead, another being born.

As the woman repeated her question, Huish’s eyes grew dark with rage, and he pointed to the door.

“Go down,” he said, “at once, or – ”

She shrank from him for a moment as she saw his look; but her jealous rage mastered her fear, and she stepped farther into the room.

Huish seemed undecided what to do; he glanced at Gertrude, then at the woman, and then back to see that the former was looking at him imploringly, as if asking him to end the scene.

“Go back to bed,” he said firmly; “you are ill!” and he laid his hand upon the woman’s arm.

“Worse in mind than in body!” she cried, starting away. “Girl,” she continued passionately, “you look truthful and unspoiled; tell me who you are.”

“Oh yes!” said Gertrude quickly, as she advanced with extended hand, and a look of pity in her face. “I am Mrs Huish.”

The woman’s lower jaw dropped, and a blank, stony look came into her eyes.

“Married!” she said hoarsely. “Are you his wife – to-day?”

“Oh no!” said Gertrude wonderingly; “for some time now. You are ill and delicate. Can I do anything for you?”

“No, no – no, no! Don’t touch me; I could not bear it. Tell me once more.”

“Here, enough of this!” cried Huish angrily. “Go down!”

“Don’t touch her,” said Gertrude excitedly; and she interposed. “She is ill – very ill. I am Mrs John Huish,” she repeated.

“The woman he has wronged?”

“No, no!” said Gertrude, beginning to tremble, as she thought of the scene upon the stairs; “but you are – ”

“That man’s lawful wife, whom he now casts aside for some pretty baby face that takes his fancy.”

“It is not true!” cried Gertrude with spirit; “my husband is a gentleman and the soul of honour.”

“It is true! and that man is a liar – a cheat – a scoun – O God, I cannot bear it! Let me die!”

The woman threw up her hands and reeled. In another instant she would have fallen, but Huish stepped forward, caught her in his arms, and bore her out of the room, carrying her down to the next floor, while Gertrude, as she heard his receding steps, sank into a chair, and gazed blankly before her.

She started up though, as Huish returned with a smile upon his face, and closed and locked the door.

“Poor thing!” he said lightly; “I am sorry she came up. Ill, you know. Her baby. Reason temporarily gone. She accuses everybody like that.”

“John,” cried Gertrude, trembling, “cannot understand you to-night: you are so strange and unlike yourself. Is what that poor creature says true? Oh, I cannot bear to hear such words!”

“True? is it likely?” he said, approaching her. “Why, are you not my little wife?”

“Yes, yes!” cried Gertrude, shrinking from him; “but tell – ”

She stopped short, gazing at him wonderingly. Her hands went to her dilating eyes, and as the light of the lamp fell for the first time full upon him now, she uttered a cry of horror, her face became convulsed, and she ran to the door.

“It is not – ” she paused wildly.

“Are you mad, too?” he cried, pursuing her and catching her wrists.

“Yes – no – I don’t know,” she cried excitedly. “Don’t touch me. I cannot bear it.”

“Silence!” he cried. “Do you want to alarm the house?”

“Oh no, no!” she panted; “but you frighten – you horrify me!”

“Hush! Be silent!”

“No, no!” cried Gertrude, struggling, as he again seized her in his arms. “Oh, help – help – help!”

Volume Three – Chapter Two.

Police Business

Dick Millet became quite the military officer as he reached the police-station with his father, and proved that, if he possessed a very small body, it contained plenty of soul. He was staggered at the charge brought against his brother-in-law, that of being a party to a serious attempt at burglary on the previous night, and soon found that there was nothing to be done till the next day. He listened to Huish’s asseverations of innocence very quietly, but said nothing till he exclaimed:

“Why, Dick, you cannot believe me guilty of this monstrous charge!”

“I can only believe one thing just now, John Huish,” he replied; “and that is that you are my dear sister’s husband, and that for her sake everything possible must be done to help you out of this dreadful scrape.”

“Yes,” cried Sir Humphrey feebly, “of course – of course. And, John, my boy, I always liked you; it’s a cursed impertinent lie, isn’t it?”

“It is indeed,” cried Huish earnestly; “unless – unless – ”

He stopped, gazing from one to the other in a curiously bewildered fashion.

“Unless – unless what, my boy? Why don’t you speak out?”

“Let it rest to-night, sir,” said Huish, in an altered voice. “I am confused – shocked. Get me some good advice to-morrow, Dick, and when the examination comes off, you will, of course, find bail.”

Dick nodded, but did not shake hands.

“I’ll do everything I can,” he said sternly.

“Won’t you shake hands?”

“No,” replied Dick, “not till you are cleared. Huish,” he said in a whisper. “I shall work day and night to clear you, for Gerty’s sake; but I’ve heard some blackguardly things about you lately. This, though, is worse than all.”

Huish turned from him, looking dazed and strange, to shake hands with Sir Humphrey, who began protesting to and scolding the inspector on duty.

“I – I – don’t believe a word of it,” he cried angrily. “You – you – you police fellows are always – yes, damme, always making mistakes of this kind, and – and, confound me, if I don’t have the matter brought before the House of Lords. Good-night, my dear boy; make them give you everything you want, and we’ll be here first thing in the morning. – It’s – it’s – it’s about the most disgraceful thing I ever knew, my dear Dick,” he said as soon as they were in the street; “but if you don’t take me on to the club and give me some supper I shall faint.”

“You must be sharp, then, father. Gertrude will be horribly anxious.”

“Yes, yes, poor girl, she will; but it will be all right to-morrow. I’m not so strong as I was, and this has upset me terribly.”

There was no doubt about it, for the old gentleman looked very haggard. A hearty supper, however, restored him, and he left the club in pretty good spirits to accompany Dick to Westbourne Road, where they were met by the announcement that “master came back a bit ago, and went away with missus.”

“What does this mean?” said Dick sternly.

“Mean, my boy? Why, that he has got bail.”

“I’m afraid not,” said Dick to himself, and, with the full belief that his brother-in-law had contrived to escape, he accompanied his father home, keeping, however, his thoughts to himself.

In the morning, however, there was the news that a message had come for her ladyship to go to Wimpole Street, where Mrs Huish had arrived on the previous night.

“Was John Huish there, too?” asked Dick sharply.

“I did not hear,” said her ladyship haughtily. “I know nothing of such a person, and I will not have my name sullied by mention in connection with his.”

“But you’ll go and see Gertrude?”

“No,” exclaimed her ladyship. “It was Gertrude’s duty to come to me if she were in trouble. If she prefers her uncle’s help, let her enjoy it. I have no more to say, except that I shall not go; and, Humphrey, I forbid you to go there – for the present.”

“And me, too,” said Dick quietly.

“You have long ceased to obey me,” said her ladyship austerely, “and must take your own course. I will not, however, be dragged into this dreadful scandal.”

“Humph!” said Dick. “Then you let it all out, father, after you’d gone to bed?”

“Yes, my son, yes. Your mamma was very anxious, and I told her all.”

“As you like. I’m off now to secure counsel. We’ll have him out before night.”

Lady Millet sighed and wiped her eyes, but no one paid any heed to her, so she consoled her injured feelings with a good breakfast.

Meantime, John Huish sat through the night, thinking, and calling up from the past all the strange things that had been laid to his charge.

“What does it mean?” he said aloud. “Am I a madman or a somnambulist, or do I lead a double life?”

It was terrible, that being shut up in such a place; for when the other prisoners were silent, there was a dreadful clock close by, which seemed in its cold, harsh, brazen way to goad him to distraction. It was a hurried clock, that always seemed manifesting itself and warning people of the flight of time, so that every quarter of an hour it fired off a vicious “ting-tang” in the two discordant notes that made a bad descending third, repeating itself at the half-hours, tripling at the third quarter, and at the hour snapping as it were at the world four times before allowing the hammer on another bell to rapidly go off slam – slam – slam! till its duty was done. “Clocks are bad enough,” he thought, “from the warnings they give of how short our lives are growing; but when a man is in trouble and bells are added, the effect is maddening indeed.”

He sat trying to think till he was bewildered, and at last, in a complete maze, he sat listening to the noisy singing of a woman in the next cell, and the drunken howlings of a man on the other side.

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