King of the Castle

“Then, it must be all on her side,” thought Wimble, beginning to strop his razor again fiercely, and he operated directly after with so much savage energy, that the gardener’s hands clutched the sides of the chair, and he held on, with the perspiration oozing out upon his forehead, and causing a tickling sensation around the roots of his hair.

“Find it hot, Mr Brime, sir?” said the barber, as he gave a few finishing touches to his patient’s chin.

“Very,” said the gardener, with a sigh of relief, as the razor was wiped and thrown down, and a cool, wet sponge removed the last traces of the soap; “you went over me so quick, I was afraid of an accident.”

“No fear, sir. When a man’s shaved a hundred thousand people, he isn’t likely to make a mistake. Thank you, sir; and I hope you will get everything settled all right up yonder. When’s the funeral?”

“Don’t know yet, sir. When the doctors and coroners have done, I suppose.”

“Hum!” said Wimble to himself, as he ran over the gardener’s words. “Then, perhaps I have been wrong about him, but I can’t be about her. She wouldn’t have held me off all this time if she hadn’t had thoughts elsewhere.”

He was standing at the door as he spoke, probably meaning to receive more customers after all, for he did not slip the bolt.

“Up there in the garden, last night, to see the young lady, and the next morning Mr Gartram found dead. Well, it’s a terrible affair.”

Michael Wimble had obtained more information than he had anticipated, and of a very different class.

End of Volume Two

Volume Three – Chapter One.

An Angry Encounter

Night, and the tramping of many feet on the granite-paved path and terrace.

The wind from off the sea rushing and sighing round the house, making, as the great hall door was opened, the lightly-hung pictures on the walls swing gently to and fro, as if ghostly hands touched them from time to time.

Claude and Mary were waiting, dressed, in the drawing-room, ready to go to the inquest, and the latter held her cousin’s hand tightly as they listened, and in imagination painted, by the help of the sounds, all that was going on.

There were whispers in men’s voices, muffled footsteps on the thick rugs in the paved hall, with the sharp sound from time to time as a foot fell on the bare granite.

Then came the opening of the study door, and a piteous sigh escaped from Claude’s breast as in imagination she saw the darkened room into which the jurymen passed one by one, to stay a few moments, and then pass out.

Then more whispers, more trampling, muffled and loud; the closing of the study door; and then the sighing and moaning of the wind ceased suddenly, as the great hall door was shut; voices came more loudly as steps passed along the terrace, and grew fainter and fainter as they filed out, and once more the house was still.

Down by the inn, affected most by the fishermen from its proximity to the harbour, the principal part of the inhabitants of the place were gathered, waiting in knots and discussing Gartram’s death, till such time as the jury returned. Then a lane was opened for them to pass through into the great room of the inn, the fishermen crowding in afterwards, while two men drawn, one by summons, the other for reasons of his own, to the inquest, found themselves, by the irony of fate, side by side, and compelled to walk in this way down the long passage packed in by the crowd, and upstairs to the room where the inquest was to be held.

Parry Glyddyr had grown more calm and firm as the day had worn on, while Chris had, on the other hand, become more excited; and, finding himself thus thrown close beside his rival, he could not help turning a sharp inquiring look upon him, as if asking what he had to say.

But no word was spoken, and, forced on by the crowd behind, they at last found themselves close up to the head of the table, listening to the coroners words as the various witnesses were examined, a low murmur arising when Claude’s name was called, and a way clear made for her to pass through, and give the little evidence she could as to her father’s habits, and then she was led, silently weeping, away.

Sarah Woodham – cold, dark and stern now – was called to speak of her duty in taking to her master his tonic draught, and she could tell of his habit in using a narcotic to produce sleep.

Other witnesses were examined, including both the doctors. As her gravely and deprecatingly stating how he had prescribed for his patient. The new doctor gave his opinion upon what he had seen; the coroner summed up; and the jury, sworn to do their duty in the inquiry, had no difficulty in unanimously agreeing that it was a case of accidental death, and gradually melting away with the crowd. Glyddyr, one of the last to leave the room, breathing more freely since he had given his evidence relative to seeing Gartram lying asleep, but feeling that he was ghastly pale, and afraid to meet Chris Lisle’s eye, as he passed out of the inquiry room, and out on to the cliff to let the soft, cool night air fan his cheeks.

His knees seemed to give way beneath him, and he was glad to move a little to one side, and rest against the iron rail that guarded the edge of the cliff, for he was giddy with emotion as he felt how narrow an escape he had had from destruction.

“But they could not tell,” he said to himself. “It was his heart; and no doctor could have analysed the case sufficiently to have said who gave him a larger quantity than he usually took.

“Yes, safe,” he muttered, with a feeling of relief and elation. But the giddy sensation returned, and he could gladly have gone into the inn and call for brandy, had he dared, the thought that such an action on his part might cause suspicion keeping him back.

He could hear the people, grouped about, discussing the event, and though it horrified him, and moment by moment as he stood leaning over the rail and gazing out to sea, he anticipated hearing something said which would fix suspicion upon him, he could not tear himself away.

His men were waiting for him at the harbour steps, but he shrank from moving, though he suffered agony in staying there, for out before him, on the dark sea with the stars reflected, and looking up at him like eyes, he felt that there was danger, and that he would not dare to go out to his yacht.

And yet he kept asking himself what there was to fear.

“Dead men tell no tales,” he kept saying to himself; but nothing seemed to check his nervous dread.

“Suppose all should be discovered?”

At last he tore himself away, determined to get on board the yacht, have a good stiff glass of brandy and water, and go to bed early; but, instead of turning off to the left and down to the end of the pier, he found himself led as it were up the cliff-path towards the Fort; and with the full intention of going right to the door to inquire how the ladies were, so as to force down and master the cowardly dread, he passed on, and when close to the drawbridge, stopped short.

A firm, elastic step was coming in the other direction, and a new dread assailed him.

Thought flies quickly, and in a few moments he had analysed his position.

He had, in his endeavour to obtain money, destroyed Gartram’s life. He had tried to make himself believe that he was only going to borrow part of what would be his anon; but, in his hurry and fear, he had failed to obtain the money, and he had removed Gartram.

What would be the result? Claude would doubtless have become his wife when urged by her father, but that father was dead, and he was face to face with the fact that he had destroyed his chances. For Claude had evidently a strong leaning towards Chris Lisle; and while he had been shiveringly and nervously leaning against the cliff rail, Chris had quickly made his way to the ladies’ side, had walked home with them, and now was returning master of the situation, and in another few moments would be standing face to face with him.

A fierce feeling of resentment sprang up in his breast, and, as his hands clenched, he could feel the veins in his forehead tingle and start.

Chris was coming slowly down the path, with his head bent, thinking deeply of Claude’s sorrow, and in spite of the angry words which had passed during their last interview, full of sorrow for the hard, passionate man cut off so suddenly; but as he suddenly found himself confronted by Glyddyr, he felt the blood flush up into his temples, and his hands shook,

It was momentary. His hands dropped easily to his sides, and he told himself that he need not fear Glyddyr now. He had only to wait patiently till the time of mourning and sorrow had passed away, and then Claude would naturally turn to him; and for the first time he felt glad that he had made that coup.

“I am not going to make an enemy of this man,” he said to himself. “I can afford to be generous;” and, breaking the silence, he said quietly, “Going up to the house, Mr Glyddyr?”

“Sir?”

“I said, are you going up to the house?”

“The man’s angry and disappointed,” thought Chris, and he spoke in the same quiet, inquiring tone.

“And, pray, by what right do you question me?” said Glyddyr angrily, and glad of something which roused him from the trembling, morbid state in which he was grovelling.

“I can hardly call it a right,” replied Chris, “and only speak as a very old friend of the family.”

“Friend? Why, confound you, sir; Mr Gartram ordered you never to enter his house again.”

“Let Mr Gartram rest,” replied Chris, gravely, and his tones were so impressive and seemed so full of suggestion that Glyddyr shrank again, and was silent. “I only wished to say that Miss Gartram is ill – utterly prostrate – and that an intrusion – ”

“Intrusion!” cried Glyddyr, recovering himself, and beginning to quiver with jealous rage.

“Yes, sir; intrusion upon Miss Gartram at such a time would be as cruel as uncalled for.”

“Intrusion! Such insolence! Are you aware, sir – ”