"In which case you would give him up to the police."
"No," said Julius with an emotion which did him credit, "I should never betray him. Lucy, if you can find out from Lord Conniston or Durham that Bernard is alive, let me know and I'll see what I can do to help him."
"How can you help him when you believe him guilty?"
"I might help him to escape. I don't want to see him hanged."
"He won't be hanged if Lord Conniston and Mr. Durham can save him."
"Ah!" Julius started to his feet. "Then he is alive."
"I can't say. I have no reason to think he is. But I am hoping against hope," said Lucy, rising. "I merely state what was said. Mr. Durham and Lord Conniston both told Alice that Bernard was innocent."
"They will find it difficult to prove that," sneered Beryl, with a white face. "I believe the fellow is alive after all. If he is I'll make it my business to find out where he is."
"And then?" asked Lucy, starting up and facing Beryl.
"Then it depends upon Bernard himself."
"Ah! You would make him pay money to save himself."
"I have a right to a portion of the estate."
"You have not," said Miss Randolph, clenching her fists and all her languor gone. "Bernard is the owner of Gore Hall and of all the property, and of the title also. If he is alive, as I sincerely hope, his name will be cleared."
"And then you will throw me over and try to become Lady Gore."
"I throw you over now," said Lucy, losing her temper and coloring hotly. "How dare you speak to me like this, Julius! I will no longer be bound to you. I never loved you, but I have always tried to see the best side of you. But you have no good side. You are a mean, cowardly serpent, and if Bernard is alive I shall do my best to defend him from your snares."
"But Lucy – "
"Don't speak to me, and don't dare to call me again by that name. I give you back your ring – here it is!" She wrenched it from her finger. "Now leave the house, Mr. Beryl. I am mistress here."
Julius looked at the ring which she had thrown at his feet, and laughed. "You take a high tone," he said sneeringly. "But remember that if Bernard is dead the money goes to charities – "
"So much the better. You do not get it."
"Nor you either. You will have to turn out of this luxurious home and live on the pittance Sir Simon left you."
"Would I be better off if I married you?"
"I think you would. I have not much money now, but I will have some – a great deal some day."
"By blackmailing Bernard," said Lucy, indignantly.
Julius picked up the ring and slipped it into his waistcoat pocket calmly. "We don't know that Bernard is alive. But the fact of Conniston leaving the army and from Durham's attitude I shrewdly suspect he is, and in hiding. I shall find out where he is, and then it depends upon him whether he is hanged or prefers to live abroad on a portion of his money."
"The lesser portion. I know the price of your silence," said Lucy, vehemently. "You will want the Hall and a large income."
"All I can get," rejoined Beryl, quietly. "And you have refused to share my fortune with me."
"Yes. I will have nothing to do with you. And remember that if I catch you plotting I will tell Mr. Durham."
"You can tell him the whole of this conversation," snarled Beryl. "I am not afraid of Durham. If Bernard is alive, he'll have to pay up or be hanged."
"He is innocent."
Julius shrugged his shoulders and walked to the door. There he paused to utter a final insulting speech. "I don't know whether you intend to marry Bernard or Lord Conniston," he said, "but I wish, which ever it is, joy of a spitfire."
"And an honest woman," said Miss Randolph, wrathfully, for the reference to Conniston touched her nearly; "but you go too fast. You can't yet prove that Bernard lives."
"I go to do so," sneered Julius, and bowed himself ironically out of the room, leaving Lucy furious both with him and with herself.
She was angry with herself because she felt that in speaking of Conniston she had colored. And as a matter of fact she greatly admired the young lord, even though they had only met once, for Conniston was one of those irresistible men who appeal to women. Lucy thought – but it matters little what she thought. All she knew was that her engagement to Julius, which had always weighed on her conscience, was at an end. "I am free now – free," she said, stretching her hands. "Oh, what an escape I have had from that wicked man. He has shown his hand too plainly. I will put Mr. Durham on his guard, and" – here she blushed – "and Lord Conniston."
Julius, walking towards the Bower, was also angry with himself. As Lucy thought, he had shown his hand too clearly. "It would have been better," he considered, "to have held my tongue. I should have done so had she not goaded me into speech. She will tell Durham and that interfering Conniston and put them on their guard. Well" – he laughed and looked at the small boy trotting beside him – "I am equal to both."
The boy was a handsome, innocent-looking little fellow, rather undersized. With his clear skin, his fair hair and wide blue eyes he looked like the conventional picture of a cherub. No one would have suspected that such a childish creature was a born criminal. But his mind had not yet had time to work on his face, and the mask of his childhood – for he was only thirteen – concealed his evil nature successfully. In a few years, when his passions worked their way through the mask, his face, now so smooth and innocent, would be wrinkled and sinful. His mind would have marked plainly its signet on the smooth surface. But at present he looked charmingly innocent, although he already knew much more about life than was good for him. Julius, in order that the lad might make an impression on Miss Plantagenet, had dressed him in a new suit, and pleased with himself – for much of the boy remained in this precocious criminal – young Jerry trotted along smiling.
"Jerry," said Beryl, looking down, "mind you are nice to the old lady."
Jerry tossed his fair curls and looked roguish. "Oh, that's all right, Mr. Beryl. All old ladies take to me. They think I'm a kind of Holy Bill, and I let them think so. It pays."
"Jerry, you are a young scamp of the worst."
The boy chuckled as though he had received a compliment. "I like doing things," he explained frankly; "it's fun. When I was with old grandmother at the castle I hated doing nothing. If it hadn't been for Victoria – the girl I told you about – I should have left long before. I'm going to marry her."
"You know nothing about such things," corrected the respectable Mr. Beryl, severely.
"I know a jolly sight more than you think," said the urchin under his breath and producing a cigarette.
Julius took it from him. "Miss Plantagenet must not think you smoke, Jerry. She is most respectable."
"And dull," said Jerry, putting his hands in his pockets. "Lord! what a bore stopping with her will be. But I can nip over and see Victoria when I like."
"And keep an eye on Lord Conniston as I told you."
"I'm fly," said Master Moon, and began whistling.
Julius looked at him with satisfaction. He intended that the boy should remain in the neighborhood so as to keep watch on Conniston – whom since he left the army so unexpectedly he suspected – on Durham, and on Alice Malleson. For this last reason he was introducing him into the house. If Bernard were alive – as Julius began to suspect – he would come to one of these three people, and then Jerry would at once become aware of the fact. Then it would remain with Bernard whether to be hanged or to surrender a large portion of the property which Beryl thought rightfully belonged to him. How he came to this conclusion it is difficult to say.
Miss Berengaria was as usual in the garden looking after the well-being of some white chrysanthemums. She raised her head when she saw her visitors, and a look of annoyance crossed her face when she saw Mr. Beryl. Notwithstanding Durham's advice, she found it difficult to keep her natural dislike of the young man in abeyance, and but for the sake of Alice she would have refused to let him enter the Bower. As it was, and with great diplomacy – so great that it deceived even the astute Beryl – she asked him to come into the house. Luckily Alice was out of the way, having gone to pay a visit. But she was expected back momentarily, and Miss Berengaria wished to get rid of Julius before the girl returned. She might be able to conceal her real feelings, but Alice being so young and impulsive might show her dislike too plainly and put Beryl on his guard.
"Who is this you have here?" asked Miss Plantagenet, putting on her spectacles and surveying Jerry with admiration. "What a pretty lad!"
"He is a lad I wish you to help," said Beryl, blandly. "Last time we met, Miss Plantagenet, you mentioned that you wanted a page."
"Not exactly a page," said the old dame, rubbing her nose, a sure sign she was perplexed. "Merely a boy to see after the fowls, and to wait about the house when necessary."
"I love fowls," said Jerry sweetly, and looking as innocent as a babe, "and dogs and things like that."
"You seem a nice lad. Who is he, Mr. Beryl?"
"A poor boy who sold matches in London."
"But I didn't always," piped Jerry, shifting from one leg to the other in feigned embarrassment, and playing his part perfectly. "I lived with grandmother at Cove Castle."
"That's Lord Conniston's place," said Miss Berengaria, more perplexed than ever. "What were you doing there?"
"I lived with grandmother. My name is Jerry Moon."
"Oh! And how did you come to be selling matches?"
"His lordship got me a situation at a tobacconist's," said the child-like Moon, "and then he got me turned off."
"Why? That is not like Lord Conniston."
"You had better not ask the reason," interposed Julius; "it is not to Lord Conniston's credit."
"But I must know the reason," said the old dame, sharply, "if you want me to take the lad into my service."
Jerry in answer to a look of Beryl's began to weep ostentatiously.
"I saw his lordship dressed as a soldier," he snuffled, "and I told Mr. Beryl. His lordship was so angry that he got me turned off, saying I was ungrateful."
"You should always hold your tongue," said Miss Berengaria, angrily. "You had no right to tell what Lord Conniston wished kept secret. It was only a freak on his part. He left the army at my request."
"At your request?" said Julius, looking at her directly.
Forearmed as she was, Miss Berengaria, with the consciousness of Bernard's secret, flushed through her withered skin. However, she did not lower her eyes but turned the conversation defiantly. "Let us keep to the matter in hand. Do you want to enter my service?"
"Yes, sweet lady."
"Don't talk like that, child. Call me ma'am."
"Yes, ma'am," said Jerry, submissively. "Mr. Beryl – such a kind gentleman, ma'am – said you would help me."
"I will so long as you are honest."
Jerry thrust his tongue in his cheek, but Julius answered, "I can vouch for his honesty," he said. "But he talks too much."
"He must hold his tongue here," said the old dame, severely, and shaking her trowel at the boy. "Where are his clothes?"
"I have none but what's on," cried Jerry. "The kind gentleman got them for me, ma'am."
"You are a better Christian than I thought," said Miss Berengaria, looking at Beryl. "Well, you can stay here, boy. Go to the kitchen and tell the servants to give you something to eat."
Jerry grinned, and ducked towards the door. "Good-bye, Jerry," said Beryl, kindly. "Don't forget me."
"If I do may I be – oh no, kind lady – I mean, ma'am – I won't swear. I never did, having been to Sunday school. Yes, ma'am, I'm going," and Jerry in answer to an imperative wave of his new mistress's hand disappeared. Miss Berengaria turned to Beryl.
"He certainly has a long tongue," she said severely. "I must see that he doesn't swear or smoke or indulge in any of those wicked things. I hope he will do your recommendation credit, Mr. Beryl."
"I hope he will," said Julius, and felt a strong inclination to thrust his tongue in his cheek also. Then he took his leave and the old lady watched him go.
"What is this for?" she asked herself, and went inside to write a report to Durham.
CHAPTER XIII
A CONSULTATION
A week later Bernard was seated in the sitting room on the first floor of the castle looking out at the landscape. It was picturesque but depressing. The sun had just set behind dark clouds, and the red glare behind them looked like a fire in a grate. The marshes were covered with white mist, and the arm of the sea that reached up to the castle walls resembled a stream of blood. And over all the veil of night was falling darker and darker. Even to a mind at ease the prospect would have been cheerless, but to Bernard in his present low spirits it was positively suicidal. He felt more miserable than he had ever done in his life.
While watching and waiting, he knew not for what, the sound of voices was heard. As he started to his feet with that nervousness which had increased of late, the door opened slowly and Mark Durham entered smiling. Bernard with an ejaculation of surprise hastened towards him with outstretched hands.
"My dear Mark, how unexpected and how jolly. I was just dying to see someone. When did you arrive?"
"This very minute, and Mrs. Moon" – he turned to the door through which could be seen the gigantic form of the ogress – "showed me up at once. I have come for the night" – he raised his voice for the benefit of the housekeeper – "on business connected with Lord Conniston's estate."
"Sir," said Mrs. Moon, peering in, "don't tell me as his lordship is going to fight."
"No! no! Make yourself easy. He has left the army. Should he go to the front it will be in a way more befitting his rank."
"And a relief it is to hear that," said Mrs. Moon, placing a large hand on her ample bosom. "When Jerry, who is my grandson, wrote me his lordship was a common soldier, I could have fainted, but what I thought Victoria would bring me to with hot water like the spiteful imp of darkness she is."
"Did Jerry write?" asked Durham, making a sign to Gore to be silent.
"Of course he did, and said as he had been turned out of his employment for a – recognizing of his lordship – a thing I should never have thought his lordship would have done, seeing he got my own flesh and blood, which Jerry is, the situation."
"It was not for that reason, Mrs. Moon. Jerry told a lie if he wrote that to you."
"Printed or speaking lies, he tells plenty," moaned the giantess. "Oh dear me, so like his poor dear father, though I thumped him rarely when I had the strength. But what's my Jerry, bad as he is and liar though he be, a-doing of now? He may be starving in that nasty London, and a rare child he was for tit-bits."
"I can tell you where he is, Mrs. Moon," broke in Bernard. "I have just heard." He glanced towards the table wherein lay a letter. "He is a page in the house of Miss Plantagenet at Hurseton."
"Deary me," said Mrs. Moon in mild surprise. "I do hope as he'll give satisfaction, and pleased I am. I must tell Victoria, she being taken up greatly with my Jerry, though both of them be but young."
Durham detained her. "No! Don't say a word to Victoria."
"And why not, sir?"
"If you do Jerry will lose his post," explained Durham. "Miss Plantagenet has heard of Victoria, and she doesn't seem to be a good companion for Jerry. Only on condition that Victoria has nothing to do with Jerry will the boy be kept on. It is for this reason he has not been over to see you."
"And him being so near and denying his own flesh and blood," wailed Mrs. Moon, raising her large hands; "but Jerry was always bad. Well, I don't want him to lose his place, so I'll hold my tongue, and right Miss Plantagenet is, Victoria being a bad and wicked critter as I'd take my Bible oath. If only another girl would stop here I'd give Victoria the walking-ticket. But, bless you, the castle's that dismal and the – "
Here Durham interrupted impatiently. "Go and send up some tea, Mrs. Moon, and hold your tongue about Jerry's whereabouts. If Victoria learns, she may go over, and then Jerry would be dismissed."
"To the gallows," said the housekeeper, closing the door, "to which he will assuredly go," she added, opening it again, "he taking after his forebears, who were hanged for many evils. Tea did you say. Ah, well, there's some comfort in tea," and muttering to herself the weak old creature left the two gentlemen to themselves.
By this time Bernard had returned to the fire and was pushing forward a chair for Durham. "I am glad to see you, Mark," said he, cordially. "But why did you stop me speaking?"
"I didn't stop you, worse luck," said Durham, running his hand through his curly hair. "I didn't want Mrs. Moon to know where Jerry was. I only hope she will hold her tongue; but if she does tell Victoria, and she is weak enough to babble a lot, Jerry will learn in a way I need not describe that you are here."
Bernard saw that he had been foolish and bit his lip. "I should have been silent," he said. "But the fact is, Mark, I didn't think of Jerry being dangerous. Alice simply wrote saying that he had been engaged by Miss Berengaria as a page, and that she would give me the details when she came to-morrow."
"So like a woman," grumbled Durham, sitting down. "It would have been better had she told you that Beryl had induced Miss Plantagenet to take the boy as a page."
Bernard stared. "But she is on my side," he faltered.
"Of course she is, and for that reason she has taken the boy. I told her to be civil to Beryl, so that I might learn what his game was. It is better that we should keep all these people in sight. I have my eye on Beryl, who haunts my office. Jane Riordan is in my employment. Miss Randolph keeps watch on Mrs. Gilroy, and Miss Plantagenet will see that Jerry – or Judas as Conniston calls him – does no mischief. If I can get all the threads into my hands, Bernard, I'll soon be able to find a clue likely to lead me to the central mystery of this labyrinth. And there's no denying," added Durham, wrinkling his brows, "that the case is a perplexing one."
"I understand about you and Miss Berengaria," said Bernard, nursing his chin, "you are my friends; but Lucy. I have always had my doubts about Lucy, and offended Conniston by saying so. He admires Lucy."
"Miss Randolph is entirely to be trusted," said the lawyer, decisively; "she is your friend, and has broken off her engagement with Beryl. I think he showed too plainly that he wanted to ruin you and – "
"Does he know that I am alive?" interrupted Gore, much perturbed.
"No! But I think he is suspicious. He has some rascally scheme in his head or he would not have placed Judas in Miss Berengaria's establishment; luckily, the old lady will watch the boy. However, as I was saying, the engagement between Miss Randolph and Beryl is ended. She told me that she had given him back the ring. She is quite on our side."
"Conniston will be glad," said Gore, smiling in a haggard sort of way; "he admires Lucy."
"So do I. She's a charming girl, especially now that she has been allowed to exert her individuality, which was crushed by Sir Simon. I often wondered you did not fall in love with her, Bernard."
"Oh, we are like brother and sister," said Bernard, quietly, then he sighed and started to his feet. "See here, Mark, I can't stand this sort of thing any longer."
"What sort of thing?"
"This inaction. Here I am mouldering in this old castle, a prey to apprehension, and letting other people do my work. Why shouldn't I come to life and give myself up?"
"You can do that later, when we know more about the case than we do at present. Don't be rash, Bernard."
Gore walked up and down the room. "The life will drive me mad," he said impatiently. "Thank Heaven Alice comes to see me to-morrow."
"Why didn't she come before?"
"She would have done so had she thought it safe. Alice is as true as steel. But with Beryl about the place – and he has called several times on Miss Berengaria – she thought it best to postpone her visit. But Conniston asked them both over to-morrow, and they are coming openly."
"So they told me," rejoined Durham, coolly, "and I particularly impressed on them that they were not to bring that imp over. If he learns you are here – " The lawyer paused.
"What will he do?"
"Sell you to the highest bidder. I think we can get the better of Beryl there, though. We have the money and Beryl hasn't. Judas is in the employment of Beryl so long as it pays him. But if I promise him a good sum he'll hold his tongue whatever he learns. It's just as well, seeing how rash you were telling his grandmother where he is to be found."
"I was foolish," admitted Gore, gloomily, "but I am so worried that I do foolish things. Do you think there is any chance of getting at the truth, Mark?"
"Here's the tea," said Durham, rising at the sound of a shuffle at the door. "Let me have a cup, and then I'll tell you what I have discovered."
"Anything important?" asked Gore, as the door opened.
"Very important. I have a clue."
It was Victoria, sharp and dark and vixenish as ever, who brought in the tray. But Durham had spoken in low tones, so he did not think she had heard. Besides, he was not so alarmed about her and Judas as he had been. Both were venal, and at any cost their silence would have to be purchased. It would be better for Bernard to lose half his estate than remain a fugitive from justice. Victoria darted a suspicious glance at Bernard, as from the air of mystery surrounding his stay at the castle she thought he was, as she put it, "wanted for something." But she was too clever, and, truth to say, too impotent to move without the co-operation of Jerry Moon. Besides, beyond a mere suspicion, she had nothing to go upon. Queerly enough, she had heard nothing of the murder, but then Mrs. Moon kept her so close that Victoria rarely had an opportunity of indulging her gossipping instincts, of which she had her full share.
When she withdrew, Durham poured out two cups of tea and ate some toast. Gore waited patiently enough, but there was a restless air about him which showed that his patience was tried severely. At length Durham satisfied his appetite, took the edge off it as it were, and then returned to his seat.
"Bernard," he asked, poking the fire, "you never told me that Sir Simon gave you a check for one thousand pounds?"
Gore started up with an exclamation. "What do you mean? I never received such a large check as that in all my life."
"But your grandfather gave you one in September, payable to bearer."
"No. He certainly did not. You forget that we had quarrelled. From the moment I left the Hall some months ago I never received a penny from him. I lived, as you know, on what little money I inherited from my father. You gave fifty pounds to me yourself."
"I went to the bank," said Durham, with an air of satisfaction, "and asked if such a check had been presented, and by whom?"
"But how did you learn about this check?"
"Oh! I found it amongst Sir Simon's private papers when he died. It had been honored and returned cancelled with the bank-book. I need not have asked if it had been presented, as it had, and had also been paid. But I wanted to examine the whole thing from the beginning. The teller – who knows you – informed me that you presented the check about the beginning of October, and that he paid you the money."
"It is utterly false!" cried Gore, violently.
"Keep your temper, old boy," said Durham, soothingly. "I know that as well as you do. The man who presented the check was dressed as an Imperial Yeoman. He told the teller he had enlisted, and the teller, thinking he was you, wished him good luck."
"But, Mark," said Bernard, much perplexed, "this double of mine must be extraordinarily like me, for the teller knows me well."
"There is a reason for the likeness!" The young man hesitated, wondering if it would be right to tell his friend that Mrs. Gilroy claimed to be the first wife of Walter Gore. On rapid reflection, he decided to say nothing about the matter at present, knowing Bernard's violent temper. He therefore confined himself to bare detail. "Mrs. Gilroy called at my office," he said slowly, "to complain that the one hundred a year left to her by Sir Simon was not enough."
