CHAPTER XIII
THE SQUIRE AND THE SAINT
Redmond Maynard opened the door, and, followed by his son, went in search of the culprits. He knew his way about Stanton House, having often stayed there when Fred May trained his horses.
"I know where we shall find them," he said, "in May's room." They entered without ceremony and surprised the worthy pair enjoying a glass of champagne. They looked ludicrously guilty, and the Squire burst out laughing.
"You think you are very clever, no doubt," he said. "As it happens, everything has turned out for the best, but you might have got into trouble had it been otherwise."
"We had not much doubt about succeeding, or we should not have risked it," said Eli. "I am sure you are not sorry we did so."
"No, we are perfectly satisfied," replied the Squire, "and you both deserve credit for all you have done."
The trainer sent for another bottle of champagne, and the Squire and Ulick joined them.
"There is no chance of buying the Saint, Mr. Lanark says," remarked the Squire, smiling; "but as the horse is in the family I do not see that it matters much. One thing you must promise me, when he has finished racing you will send him to the Hazelwell stud."
"With pleasure," replied his son. "But he will stand a lot of training."
"I shall be surprised if he is not running as an aged horse," said the trainer, "for I never saw one with better legs or a sounder constitution; he is built for work, and cannot have too much of it. I only wish he was in the Derby, he is the very horse for that race."
"Let us go and see him," said the Squire. And they went towards the stables.
"I wonder what my father will think of his colour?" said Ulick to the trainer.
"It will surprise him, and he will be disappointed as you were, until he looks him over," was the reply.
"Eli, I shall not forget what you have done for us," said the Squire, as they walked across the yard. "I know it was your plan that brought us together. What made you think of it?"
"I saw you were feeling the separation more every week, and I determined to put a stop to it if I could, so I took Fred May into my confidence, and he eagerly agreed to my scheme."
"I wonder why Ulick will not return to Hazelwell with me?" mused the Squire.
"Is he not going home with you?" asked Eli, surprised.
"No, he says he has good reasons for not doing so. He knows who ran away with Janet, but he cannot tell me. Do you know?" asked the Squire, quickly.
"No," stammered Eli, thinking to himself perhaps Ulick's suspicions rested upon the same man as his own.
The Squire looked at him keenly, and said, "I believe you do. Confound it, I cannot make it out at all; why am I kept in the dark?"
Eli was glad when the trainer called out, "You are going too far; this is the Saint's box."
The Squire's mind was diverted, and he turned sharply round and walked back.
The trainer threw open the door of the box, and the Saint was stripped for their inspection.
The Squire looked at him in astonishment, and said, "Is this a joke, that cannot be the Saint? What a horrible colour! I never saw such a dirty grey before."
They laughed, and Eli was as much taken aback as his master.
"That is the Saint," said Ulick, "and I am not surprised you do not like his colour. I thought as you think when I first looked at him, and so did his owner, who parted with him solely because of his colour, and has regretted it ever since. I refused to purchase him for no other reason."
"Then who bought him?" asked the Squire.
"Fred May, and resold him to me at the price he gave for him. If it had not been for him I should not have had the colt at all."
"Upon my word I cannot help being disappointed," said the Squire. "He is not fit to look at."
The trainer laughed heartily, as he replied, "Come, Mr. Maynard, that is too bad, after all he has done. He has never been beaten yet, and do not forget he 'downed' the present Derby favourite as a two-year-old. Forget his colour, and examine him for his good qualities. I do not think you will find a fault with him."
The Squire went up to the Saint and carefully handled him. He was a considerable time making his inspection, and said at the conclusion —
"You are right; I cannot find fault with him, he is perfect, except for his colour. What a pity it is; it will never do to breed from him."
"I should chance it," said Ulick. "He may get them a much better colour than himself, and as far as make and shape and performances are concerned, he cannot very well be beaten."
"When does he run again?" asked the Squire.
"In the Coronation Cup in Derby week. It is run over the Derby course, and we want to show them what he can do. He'll meet last year's Derby winner, the Cesarewitch winner, and the Gold Cup winner of last season; if that is not a test of his quality, I do not know where it is to be found," said May.
"That will be a race," replied the Squire, "and I must be there to see it. I have a very good colt foal out of old Honeysuckle I am going to keep, and I shall send him to you at the back-end."
"I shall be very pleased to have him," replied May. "What a wonder Honeysuckle was on the turf, and at the stud she has been even a greater success."
"And that does not always follow," said the Squire.
"By no means," replied the trainer. "The contrary is often the case."
The other horses at Stanton House were looked over, and after luncheon the Squire and his son returned to London, Eli going back to Hazelwell by a different route.
On their way up to town Ulick gave his father a full account of his doings since he left home; and the Squire, in return, informed him of the course of events at Hazelwell.
"If it had not been for Irene I should have been still more lonely," he said. "She was with me last winter for some time, and cheered me up, although I am rather afraid she was not particularly happy herself. I wish you had fallen in love with her instead of Warren, it would have been a good thing for all of us."
"If he only knew how I loved her," thought Ulick. Aloud he said, "She ought to be happy. Anselm Manor is a fine place, and her husband has plenty of money."
"He had," remarked the Squire, "but I do not know whether it is the case now. He gambles and is seldom at home. He had to sell Holme Farm to pay his debts, it was the best part of the estate. He had not the sense to offer it to me; I would have given him half as much again as he sold it for."
Ulick was surprised to hear this; he knew Warren Courtly was very well off, and his gambling transactions must have been very heavy to force him to sell Holme Farm.
"Does Irene know of this?" he asked.
"Yes, she cannot be kept in the dark. They have not been married long, as you are aware, and yet I am very much afraid she has found out her mistake, and, what is worse, I encouraged her to accept him. It has all been a deplorable bungle, but I hope Warren will pull up in time."
They drove from Liverpool Street to the Walton Hotel, and Ulick sent round to his rooms for his clothes.
As he dressed for dinner he little thought that Warren Courtly and Irene were to be of the party; he was unaware of their presence in the hotel, his father purposely not having mentioned it in case it might drive him away.
It wanted half an hour to dinner-time, and he opened the window and looked out across the gardens, the Embankment, and the river. The scene attracted him, although he had seen it many times before; but the dull, dark beauty of the Thames, as it flows through the great city to the sea, possesses an irresistible fascination which seldom palls. London and the Thames are bound together by historical ties which can never be undone. The great watery highway glides heavily along under many vast bridges, past huge warehouses, docks, and shipping from all parts of the world, until it gradually empties itself into the Channel, and is lost in the vast sea. Ulick knew Paris well, and wondered why there were no steamers plying along the Thames as they did on the Seine. He thought it a shame this great river should be thus neglected, for no more imposing view of London can be obtained than from a boat.
He carelessly watched the traffic on the Embankment, and the people lounging on the seats in the gardens below. London is always busy, and yet it contains myriads of human beings whose sole occupation is to kill time.
At the dinner-hour he went downstairs. His father informed him he had engaged a table, and the waiter pointed it out to him. He crossed over and sat down. In a few minutes he saw his father enter the room, and almost fell off his chair in astonishment and dismay as he saw Warren Courtly and Irene with him.
"It is a little surprise I have not exactly prepared for you, but am giving you," said the Squire, smiling. "I have explained to them that we are quite reconciled, and that there are no differences between us."
Ulick shook hands mechanically with Warren Courtly, who felt very uneasy, and Irene, who did not conceal the pleasure it gave her to see him again.
"It is the best news I have heard since you left Hazelwell," she said. "I thought it too good to be true when your father told me of your meeting and reconciliation at Newmarket."
"And I am more than pleased to see you again," he said, earnestly. "You have not quite forgotten your old playmate and companion?"
"Oh, no; I never can forget those days; they were the happiest of my life."
She did not think what she was saying until Warren said abruptly —
"That is not very complimentary to me."
Irene coloured slightly as she replied —
"You understand what I mean."
"And heard what you said," he replied.
"I am very glad Irene was so happy at Hazelwell," said the Squire. "We always tried to make her so."
The conversation during dinner-time seemed to drag; there was a feeling of restraint between the three younger members of the party which the Squire, who was overflowing with good-humoured happiness, failed to notice. He talked freely and well, and Ulick was glad of it. From time to time he glanced at Warren and thought —
"If he knew I had met Janet, and seen him in Mrs. Hoffman's house at Feltham, I wonder what he would do? He knows he has done me an irreparable injury, and yet it does not seem to trouble him much."
After dinner Warren Courtly said he had letters to write, and asked to be excused for half an hour.
The Squire went into the reading-room, "Just for a quiet doze," he said, smiling, and Irene and Ulick were left alone. They went on to the balcony and sat down. It was a beautiful May evening, much warmer than usual, and the air was refreshing after the heat of the room.
"You cannot know how the Squire has suffered during your absence," she said, after a few remarks on various topics. "Do you not think he is older, I mean has aged very much?"
"Yes," replied Ulick, "and I am very sorry if I have been the cause. Still, I could not have acted otherwise. I would do it again if necessary."
She wished to ask him if his father believed in him, knew he had accused him unjustly, but it was a delicate matter. Still, they were old friends, and there could be no harm in it.
"Is the Squire satisfied he made a mistake, and he was in the wrong?" she asked.
"Yes, I have that satisfaction, although I cannot return to Hazelwell at present."
"Not return!" she exclaimed, in surprise. "What reason can there possibly be for that?"
"A grave reason which I cannot explain to you, but which my father accepts, although he fails to understand; may I ask you to do the same?"
"Indeed, yes; but I am very, very sorry you are not coming home," she said.
"I am glad to hear you say that," he replied, earnestly, "because I value your good opinion very much, almost as much, if not quite, as my father's."
"You have always had my good opinion," she said, softly.
"Then you never believed me guilty?" he asked, eagerly.
She hesitated; she had at one time thought he might have become entangled with Janet. She would not deny it now.
"You must forgive me, Ulick," she said. "Remember, I heard the story from the Squire, and I had no opportunity of hearing your side. What else could I do? I confess I thought as he thought, but I no longer do so now you are reconciled."
"You thought me capable of stealing Janet Todd from her father, from Eli, who would have willingly done anything for me?" he said, reproachfully.
"Not that; no, not that," she replied. "I never gave that a thought."
"You did not believe Janet went away with me?"
"No, I was sure she did not."
He looked surprised, she spoke so certainly.
"Why were you sure?"
"Because Eli told me you left the house alone, when Janet was in her room."
"How did he know, he left us alone together when he went out?"
"He was sure of it, and I believed what he told me," she said.
Ulick thought Eli must know more about Janet's disappearance than he cared to tell. He did not know where she was, but it was quite possible he knew with whom she ran away.
"He spoke the truth," said Ulick. "I did not injure Janet in any way, nor did she leave home with me."
"I wonder who she went with?" said Irene. "Have you any idea?"
"How can I possibly know?" he said, evasively.
"No, of course not," she replied. "But I cannot understand why you will not come back to Hazelwell."
Warren Courtly joined them. He heard his wife's last remark, and remarked —
"You can have no reason for remaining away now you and the Squire are reconciled."
"I have an excellent reason," said Ulick, looking him straight in the face in a manner that made him feel very uncomfortable.
CHAPTER XIV
A DISCOVERY IMMINENT
Warren Courtly remained in London, and his wife returned home with the Squire. Irene was accustomed to his frequent absences from the Manor, and became somewhat reconciled to being alone. The Squire, however, was exceedingly angry with him, and ventured to remonstrate, but received no satisfaction from the interview; on the contrary, it tended to widen the breach between them.
Ulick promised his father he would return to Hazelwell as soon as circumstances permitted, and the Squire stated his intention of coming at the end of the month to see the Saint run in the Coronation Cup at Epsom.
Warren Courtly had a serious quarrel with Felix Hoffman over the letter he wrote to Irene. Felix, however, was master of the situation, and told him so.
"I know who you are, and that you have a wife at Anselm Manor; I wonder how she would take it if I introduced her to Mrs. Warren?"
"You dare not, you scoundrel," said Warren. "I have never lived with Mrs. Warren, you know it."
"I know she is no more Mrs. Warren than I am, unless you have committed bigamy, which is not at all likely," he replied.
"If you say one word to my wife about Mrs. Warren and myself, you will repent it," said Warren Courtly.
"Shall I? Then you will have to make it worth my while to hold my tongue," replied Felix.
"Turning blackmailer, are you?" said Warren. "What is your price?"
"Fifty pounds will carry me over this month, and I promise not to trouble you if I have good luck with it."
"And supposing you have bad luck?"
"Then I am afraid I must trespass upon your generosity again," replied Felix.
"And how long will this sort of thing go on?"
"It all depends upon circumstances. I may not require your assistance for some time."
"And if I refuse your request?"
"Then I shall feel it my duty to enlighten Mrs. Courtly."
There was no way out of the fix, so he paid Felix Hoffman fifty pounds, thankful to be able to keep him quiet for a time, until he could think over what was best to be done.
Why did he not make a clean breast of it to Irene? His folly was committed before he married her, and she could not blame him for attending to Janet's wants. It was shameful to leave Ulick under suspicion. Then he thought, "But he is not under suspicion now. I wonder why he does not go home. It is very curious. He cannot have discovered anything about me, that is almost impossible."
Ulick was half inclined to tax Warren with being the cause of all the trouble, and would have done so in all probability had a favourable opportunity occurred. Fortunately it did not, or angry words might have passed between them, which would have led to a serious quarrel.
Felix Hoffman had bad luck, and a few days after he received the fifty pounds he lost it all, and more with it. He had no hesitation in asking for assistance, which Warren point-blank refused.
"I see what you intend doing," he said, "and I do not mean to be bled. I will face the consequences, and you can do your worst."
Felix Hoffman was taken by surprise at the unexpectedly bold front shown, and said, angrily —
"Very well, you know what will happen."
"But you do not," replied Warren.
"I have a very good idea."
"I have told my wife everything, what do you think of that?"
"I don't believe it," said Felix, quaking lest it should be true.
"You may please yourself about that," Warren answered. "I have no desire to speak to you again."
"Then out of my house Mrs. Warren, or whoever she is, goes neck and crop."
Warren laughed provokingly, as he replied —
"It is not your house, and if anyone goes it will be yourself. I shall have great pleasure in assisting your mother to get rid of you, and I am sure it would be a relief to her."
Felix Hoffman went home in a towering rage. He owed a lot of money, and knew if he did not pay up that the bookmakers would show him scant courtesy. Some of them he had not treated well in his more prosperous days, and they would only be too glad to retaliate.
Mrs. Hoffman knew her son's temper was none of the best, and she saw he was in a bad humour. He did not, however, mean to let her into his secret as to the identity of Mr. Warren, nor had he any desire that Janet should leave the house; on the contrary, now he had calmed down, he was sorry he hinted at such a thing to Mr. Courtly.
He cudgelled his brains as to which was the best way to obtain money. He repaid the loan of five pounds to Mrs. Courtly in order to inspire her with confidence in him; he would write again and ask for a loan of five-and-twenty pounds; it was not much but it would be useful as a stop-gap.
He was careful over the composition of the letter, and anxiously awaited a reply. It came, and there was no money enclosed.
Mrs. Courtly wrote to the effect that her husband had warned her against him as an unprincipled cheat. She explained that she had shown his former letters to him, and that was his comment upon them. She had no desire to hold further communication with him.
This roused Felix Hoffman, and his anger for a time mastered him. He would make Warren Courtly pay dearly for this, and give his wife a shock she would not get over for a long time.
Janet little thought, as she sat reading a novel, what was going on in the next room.
Felix seized pen and paper, and commenced writing furiously. He read the letter when finished, and found it ridiculous. He must write in a calmer, more methodical and convincing strain, or she would take no notice of it.
At the end of an hour he had composed something that suited him. He could give her some information about her husband, and his goings on when in London, that would open her eyes, but he must be well paid for it, and have a hundred pounds down. He hinted that there was a lady in the case who went under the name of Mrs. Warren. "She resides with my mother, whose address I will send you if you forward me the amount I have named. I assure you what I write is true, and you can prove it for your own satisfaction. I have seen Mr. Courtly there many times with the lady named." There was more to the same purpose. "If that does not fetch her, I'll never write another letter," he said, with satisfaction at the thought that he was firing a mine that would explode in a manner Warren Courtly little dreamed of.
When Irene received the letter she was at first inclined to tear it up, but curiosity prevailed, and she read it. Her cheeks burned with anger. How dare this scoundrel make such a charge against Warren. Whatever he might do in the way of gambling and spending money foolishly, she was sure he would not deceive her as this man suggested.
She read the letter again, and became more uneasy. It was within her power to find out whether he had told her a lie or otherwise. Was it a ruse to get a hundred pounds out of her? That could hardly be the case, because the writer gave his address and was known to Warren, who could bring him to book for slandering him. She thought over his constant absence from home, his frequent visits to London, even when no racing was going on, his increased expenditure. Might not a portion of the money go in the manner suggested? Irene had very little knowledge of such matters, yet she had sense enough to perceive that if Warren was entangled much money would be required. She became restless and excited. Something must be done, she could not exist in this state of suspense. If Warren had deceived her, she would never live with him again.
Eventually she wrote, enclosing the amount required, and requesting Mrs. Hoffman's address.
Felix was delighted at the success of his scheme, and sent the same address he had given before.
"My mother lives with me," he wrote, "and Mrs. Warren is in the house. She is nearly always at home; but if you call and she happens to be out, my mother will attend to you. Ask to see Mrs. Warren."
"Living in the same house," thought Irene, "then it must be true. Oh, how miserable I am."
She made arrangements to go to London, taking her maid with her, and requesting Mrs. Dixon to inform Mr. Maynard of her departure. "Tell him I shall stay at the Walton with Warren, and that we shall probably remain until after Epsom week."
She had no idea whether Warren was at the Walton, or otherwise, because he always wrote from his club. She thought of the scented paper on which he had once written, and her heart sank.
Mary Marley, her maid, was surprised, but delighted at the prospect of a visit to London, for it was some time since she had been there.
Irene was silent during the journey, and went to bed early after dinner. Her maid was surprised her master was not there, but she made no remark. She knew her place. Next day Irene went out alone. She drove to Waterloo and booked to Feltham. Arriving at the station, she asked for Mrs. Hoffman at the address given. The porter directed her, and looked at her admiringly as she left the station, as it was seldom he saw such a stylishly dressed lady, and wondered who she could be.
Irene's heart beat painfully fast as she walked slowly along the road. The house was not far from the station the porter told her, and she dreaded reaching it. She felt half inclined to turn back. Perhaps it was some cunning trap laid for her by this man. She had read of the mysterious disappearances of women, and the prospect was not pleasant. She did not lack courage, and as she had come so far she would not turn back.
She reached the house, opened the gate, and rang the bell. Mrs. Hoffman opened the door.
"Does Mrs. Warren live here?" asked Irene, dreading her answer.
"Yes. She is out doing a little shopping at present. Will you come in, my lady?" said Mrs. Hoffman, overwhelmed at the sight of such expensive raiment and at Irene's aristocratic features.
"Thank you, I am anxious to see her," she said, as she entered the house, feeling that her life was about to be shattered, and all her fears realised, before she left it again.
Mrs. Hoffman opened the door of the front room, and said —
"This is Mrs. Warren's sitting-room; I am sure she will not be long."
Irene thanked her and sat down. As she did not seem inclined to talk, Mrs. Hoffman discreetly withdrew, although she would dearly have loved to linger and gossip.
Irene looked round the room curiously. It was neatly furnished, but there was nothing to give her a clue as to the identity of its occupier, nor did she see anything indicative of Warren's frequent presence in the house. She was relieved at this; after all, there might be some mistake, and she could apologise and leave. She would willingly have given another hundred pounds to find out she had been deceived by Felix Hoffman, and allowed him to go scot free into the bargain.
Irene moved about the room looking at sundry books and papers lying about on the table. She saw no signs of work-basket, or anything to indicate that Mrs. Warren was industrious, and again her hopes sank.
Time passed slowly, and she commenced to feel uneasy. She was inclined to leave the house. She rang the bell and Mrs. Hoffman appeared.
"Do you think Mrs. Warren will be much longer?" she asked. "Perhaps I had better call again, but as I came from London I am anxious to see her."
"I expected her in before this," said Mrs. Hoffman. "Perhaps you had better wait as you have come so far."
"Will Mr. Warren be with her?"
"Oh, dear no; he seldom comes now," said Mrs. Hoffman.
Irene was thankful for this; it was a grain of comfort, and she anxiously caught at any straw.
"They do not live together," said the gossiping woman, "but the separation is by mutual consent. They quarrel occasionally when he is here, and he always seems glad to get away. Mrs. Warren is a nice lady, I like her very much, but of course you know her?"
"Of course," echoed Irene.
"And her husband?"
"Yes."
"I wonder who she is?" thought Mrs. Hoffman. "She's not in the same circle as Mrs. Warren, that's certain. How did she find out the address?"
"Mrs. Warren sent you her address I suppose?" asked Mrs. Hoffman.
"I knew it," was Irene's answer, "or I should not have been here."
Mrs. Hoffman felt it would be indiscreet to put further questions on this matter. She heard the gate click and said —
"I expect this is Mrs. Warren. I will mention you are here. What name, please, my lady?"
"Do not tell her anyone has called to see her," replied Irene, hastily, "it will be a pleasant surprise for her, as she does not expect me."