Los Angeles herald. [microfilm reel], May 13, 1906, Image 45

About Los Angeles herald. [microfilm reel] (Los Angeles [Calif.]) 1900-1911

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CHAPTER XII
THE NEW PAGE.
VpTpIINGS went very smoothly »t Gore
1 | Hall' nfter Durham had established
n&g&a Lucy as its mistress during the ab-
PBKjl senco of Bernard. The girl herself
firmly believed that her cousin was
(lead and assumed deep mourning. She had been
fond of Bernard in a sisterly way, and felt his
lorn deeply. It was her outspoken affection that
provoked a quarrel between her and Julius, and
which led to the. breaking of their engagement.
.Mrs. Gilroy came back from her visit to the
lawyer in rather a dejected frame of mind. She
J' that. she had gone too far and had given
rham an inkling as to the possibility of
:hael having masqueraded as Bernard. The
isekceper had thought her position unassail
c, knowing that she had married . Walter
'.Gore; and although there was a flaw in the cir
cumstances upon which she built her claim, yet
(he trusted to her own cleverness to conceal this
from ' the too-clever lawyer. But, apart from
this, the fact that he suspected someone of pass
ing himself off as Bernard startled her, and
■ opened an abyss at her feet. On leaving the of
i fice i she judged it best to lower her crest for
V the moment and to wait patiently to see what
would' transpire. Mrs. Gilroy was a well-edu
" . cated woman and very astute, therefore she
hoped to gain her ends by craft if not by force.
So far she had failed, but sh«' did not intend to
abandon her claim for one failure.
. As it was, she came back to the Hall and be
haved herself much better than she had ever
done before.
Lucy suffered severely from the shock of Sir
Simon's tragic death, and from the supposed
death of Sir Bernard. In fact, the matter. so
preyed on her. nerves that she became prostrate,
. and Dr. Payne had to be called in. He was a
handsome and popular young doctor who had
practiced in : Hurseton. .
, "A complete rest is what you need," he said
to Miss Randolph. "I think you should keep
to your bed as much as possible, and I will give
you a tonic. Naturally you suffer from the ter
. rible circumstances of Sir Simon's death." He
thought a moment and then continued: "Cheerful
companions would do you good. Shall I ask
Miss Malleson to come over?" A.Vi'il
,*\ "Is she cheerful?" asked Lucy languidly. "I
$ fear not; doctor. She was engaged to my cousin,
and his death has made her sad." " ; '" ... -
. '■' "Probably, but "she bears up wonderfully. But
. that she is in mourning one would hardly guess
she had sustained such a loss." , . '
'•"."I shall write a note to her to-day," said Lucy.
''I'am very fond of her, arid we get on very well
'together. Poor Alicel I wish Bernard had lived,
so. that he could have married her."
;' y'"Froni what I read in the papers it is just as
well Air.. Gore did not live," said Payne, rising
'. 'to take' his. leave. "If he was guilty—" „ ;
"Ah!" said Lucy, raising , herself with anima
tion: from the sofa upon which she was lying.
. "If he was guilty. There it is, doctor. I do not
believe be was. Bernard had a high temper, but
he could not always control it, and was a kind
hearted'boy.' He is innocent I am sure."
"How are you sure, my dear Lucy?" asked
, a third voice, and .she looked up to see Julius
standing' in the doorway. ' He . came . forward.
"Forgive me if I heard a few words of your con
versation.'' But I have just come in. Dr. .Payne,
I hope I see you well."- * w"'i' :
"Quite well," said the doctor, who did not like
:' Beryl, . thinking him, in schoolboy phrase, !"a
sneak." -."I am just- going,. ' Mr. Beryl." ;
"Are you. ill,' Lucy?" asked Beryl, with affec
tion. <._,.■,.- : ■ '■■-■I*;
• . "I have' an attack of nerves," she replied pet
* 'tishly.'^-'Toor Bernard's death has shaken me."
'"It is just as well he. did die, though.",
' "I have been saying that,". said Payne; "but
I must take my leave. I will come and see you
again, Miss , Randolph, and remember what I
'. told, you. ■" Rest , and cheerful company— Miss
(Malleson's for choice." ' ■ , »
He departed smiling, and- tney heard him gal
lop off. When the sound of . the horse's hoofs
died away, Julius, who was looking out of the
' window, ' turned abruptly to Lucy. "Why do
you think Bernard is innocent?" he asked
'•..'•'. "Because,' if he is guilty, his action gives tho
lieto . his, -whole life, Julius,", she replied, rais
< ing herself on her elbow. ' "I can't believe he
killed my uncle.", ■.".. •
"Are you sure he is dead?" asked Beryl, warm
: ing his ' hands. ; ' ' ;'
| " Lucy sat up on the sofa and pushed the loose
hair back from her forehead. "Why do you say
. ; ' : that ?" ' she asked sharply.
• Julius stared at the fire. "I can't understand
Durham's attitude," he said evasively. "He
roust know that Bernard is dead, seeing that the
1 coat and hat were found on the banks of the
river. No man could have lived in the cold and
the fog. Yet if Durham was sure he would not
hold the estate" against Bernard's coming. 1 "
"Mr. Durham requires proof of the death,"
rejoined i Lucy, sharply; "and until then, he is
; • bound to" administer the estate according to the
;• , Mill. •■ As i Bernard's body has not been found,
** there is always a chanco that he. may have es
; caped." ,/ •
'; ' ■ -'.'I sincerely trust not-" , *
• " ■ "Ah ! You ' always ■ hated Bernard."
"On the contrary, I speak for hu good. What's
the ufce'of his coining to life when lie must tuf
'.. f er for ; his crime ?'.'
>'.'.' l don't believe ho committed it,". said Lucy,
doggedly.
; "You have no , grounds for saying that," said
•Julius, pale, with rage. 7>< , ■'■.'■■
' VI don't need grounds," retorted the genuine
V woman. "Bernard always was as kind-hearted
; .'a»'you were— and are, the reverse." ■
.!" /."I am.not. not hard-hearted," snapped Beryl. "I
• always ■ do , goo—"
"When it is to your own benefit." ,
■' "Not' always. For inwtance, 1 am down her«
to get a small boy a pout with Mies Plantagenet
as a iiage." ? • ■
•"That is very good of you,' said Lucy, scorn
" fully.- ' •"■ '.' - - ' ' ' ' '.". • ' ■' :
' "Ah, y>u see I can. do a kind action. This
. boy is a grandson of Lord Conniston'i housekeep
er. Mr». Moon."
THE RED WINDOW
At Core CaMle," said Lucy, with tome color
In her face. "I know."
'Do you know Lord Conniston?" asked Julius
suspiciously.
"I have met him once. He seems to be *> most
delightful fellow."
"What a delightful speech for ft lady," said
Beryl. "Conniston ig a scamp. I heard h« en
list ed in the Lancers."
"It shows how brave he 1«. Every man worth
calling a man should go to the front." '
"Perhapt you would like me to go," sneered
Julius.
"You would never have the pluck," said Lucy,
quickly. "All your ends In life are gained by
cunning, not by bravery."
"Lucy, if you talk to me like that—" began
Beryl, and then restrained himself with an ef
fort. "It is no use our quarreling. Let me show
you that I am not so careless of others or so
hnrd-heartcd as I seem to be. Miss Plantagenet
wants a page. I found this lad in London sell
ing matches. He was a messenger boy at a to
bacconist called Taberley, and Lord Conniston
got him turned out of the situation." . \
"I don't believe that."
"It is true. The boy told mo himself. He
will tell you if you like to sec him."
"I don't Want to see him. Lord Connieton is
too kind a man to behave in that way. He was
fond of ''Bernard."
"And that make* him perfect in your eyes,"
said Beryl, looking savage. "See here, Lucy,
Conniston has left the army— so you sea he is
not so brave as you think."
"He left so an to seek after. Bernard," said
Lucy, quickly. "Mr. Durham told me so."
"To seek after Bernard," said Julius, slowly,
"and I believe Bernard may be alive after all,"
"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 Dur
ham that Bernard is nlive, 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.". L '.l'.O
"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 .wan Baid. Mr. Durham
and Lord Conniston both told Alice that Ber
nard 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, clench
ing' her fists and all her languor gone. "Ber
nard 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."* V...'■■'•'
"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. v 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, cow
ardly serpent, and if Bernard is alive I shall do
my best to defend him from your snares." ■•;
"But Lucy — " . v '
"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 mis
tress here." . ... ..''.,
Julius picked . up the ring and slipped it into
his wuistcoat ■ pocket calmly. "We don't know
that Bernard is alive. . But the , fact of Connis
ton leaving the army, and from Durham's atti
tude I shrewdly suspect he is, and in hiding. I
shall find out where he is, then it depends upon
him vhether he is hanged or prefers to live
abrond on a portion of his moaey." , . ,
"He is innocent." / \ .' ..';.:
Julius shrugged His "shoulders and walked t*
the door. There he paused to utter a final in
sulting speech, "t don't know whether you in
tend to marry Bernard or. Lord Conniston," he
said, "but I wish, which ever it is, joy of a spit
fire." "•''■■ ■
"And an honest woman," said Miss Randolph,
wrathfully, for the reference to Conniston touch
ed her nearly; "but you go too fast. You can't
yet prove that Bernard, lives." '- ■ • ■ \
"I go to do so," sneered Julius, and bowed him
self ironically out of the room, leaving Lucy fu
rious both with him and with -herself.
Julius, walking towards the Bower, was angry
with himself. As Lucy thought, he had shown
his hand too clearly. "It would have been bet
ter," 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 interfer
ing Conniston and put them on .their guard.
Well"— he laughed and looked at the. small boy
trotting beside ■ him— "l am equal 1 to both."
The boy was a handsome, innocemVlooking lit
tle fellow, . rather . undersized. ■■ 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. '.' ' ■
"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 i 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 an though he had rec jived a,
compliment. "I like doing things," he explained
frankly; "it's fun. When I was with old grand*
mother at the castle I hated doing nothing. If
it hadn't been for Victoria— the girl I told you
about— l should have left long before. I'm going
to marry her."- ' •
"You know nothing about such things," cor
rected 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. 6he 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 tee Vic
toria when I like."
"And keep an eye on Lord Conniston as I told
you.'V, • ■ . ■'■-•.. , '
- "I'm fly," said Master Moon, and began whist
' Julius looked it him with . *ati«faetion. . Ha
intended that the boy should remain in the neigh
borhood so as to keep watch on .Conniston— whom
since he left the army so unexpectedly , he , sus
pectea—on Duham, and on Alic« Walloon. For
LOS ANGELES HERALD SUNDAY SUPPLEMENT
this last reason he wan introducing him into the
house. If Bernard were alive—as Julius began
to suspect— he would come to one of Uicm three
people, and then Jerry would at once become
aware of the fact.
Miss Bercngaria wim, an usual, in the garden
looking after tho well-being of some white chrys
anthemums. She raised her head when sho saw
her visitors, and % jok of annoyance crossed her
face when she saw Mr. Iteryl. Notwithstanding
Durham's advice, she found U difficult to keep
her natural dislike of the young man in abey
ance, and but for the snke of Alice the would
have refused to let him rnter the Bower. As it
was, and wit:i great diplomacy— so great that It
deceived even tho astuto Beryl— sh« asked him
to come into tho house. Luckily Alice was out
of the way, having gone to pay a visit. But she
was expected back momentarily, and Miss Beren
garia wished to get rid of Julius before the girl
returned. She might be able to conceal her real
feelingx, 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 Plan
tagenet, putting on her spectacles mid surveying
Jerry with admiration, 1 ., "What a pretty lad!"
"He is_ a lad I wish: you, to help," «aid Beryl,
blandly. "* "Last timo we met, \ Miss Plantagenet,
you mentioned that you wanted a page." j
"Not exactly a page," said the old dame, rub
bing 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 look
ing 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 alway»," piped Jerry, shifting
from one !rg to the other in feigned embarrass
ment,'and playing hie ■ part perfectly. "I. lived
with grandmother at Cove Cantle."
"That's Lord ConnUtori's place," said Miss
Berengaria, more perplexed j than ever. "What
were you doing there!"
■ '.'1 lived with grandmother. My name is Jerry
Moon." „. „,.'-
."Oh! And , how : did you come to be selling
matches?" . . .
"Hii lordship got me a situation at a tobacco
nist'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 estentatioußly. _ ,
"I saw his lordship dressed as a soldier," he
snuffled, "and I' told Mr. Beryl, Him lordship
waa so angry that he got me turned oil', saying I
was ungrateful," :
"You should always hold • your , tongue," said
Miss BeWngaria, angrily. "You had no right to
tell what Lord Conniston" wished kept secret. It
was only a freaft on. hit part. He left the army
at my request." ■_ • •
"At your request?" said Julius, looking at her
directly. ■
I'lirrnviiiPil as the was, Misn Herengana. with
the consciouaneei !of Bernard's secret, iWhed
through her withered nkin. However, she did
not lower her eyes but turned the converastion
FERGUS HUME
dffUntly. "L*t us k«ep to the matter in hand.
Do you, want to enter my service?"
"Yes, tweet ' lady,"
"Don't talk like «h»t, child. Call me ma'am.'
"Yes, ma'am," said Jerry, submissively. "Mr.
Beryl said you would help me."
"I will io long as you are honest."
Jerry thrust his tongue in hi* cheek, but Ju- (
lius 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,"
■aid Miss neicngarla, looking at Beryl. "Well,
you can stay here, boy. Go to the kitchen and
tell the servants to give you something to cat."
Jerry grinned, and ducked towards the door.
"Good bye, Jerry," said Beryl, kindly. "Don't
forget me."- j j
,:"If Ido may I be— oh, no, kind lady— l mean,
nia'am— l won't swear. I never did, haying been
to Sunday school. Yes, ma'am, I'm gping," and
Jerry in answer to an imperative wave of his new
Distress's hnnd disappeared. Miss Berengaria
turned to Heryl.
"He certainly has a long tongue," she said se
verely. "I must sec 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. .;• "■'•."■•V '■'^\';'''^"-J\
"What is this for?" she asked herself, and went
iniide to write a report to Durham.
CHAPTER X 111
A CONSULTATION. '
A" "| WEEK later Bernard was seated in the
Bitting room on. the first floor, of _ the
■lii i ■< i cattle looking out at the landscape, ilt
§irj^|W was ■ picturesque but depressing. 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 jol
ly, I was just dying to we someone. .' Whcu did
you arrive?" ■
"This very minute, and Mrs. Moon"— ho turned
to the door through which could b» seen the gi
gantic form of the ogress — "showed me up ' at
once. I . have come for the night"— he raised bit
voice for the benefit of the housekeeper—'"on,bus
iness connected with Lord Conniston's estate."
■ "Sir," said. Mrs. Moon, , peering in, "don't tell
me as his lordthip is going to tight." •
"No! nol Make yourself easy. He haa left
the army. ' Should he go to the front it will be in
a way more befitting his rank."
'.'And o relief it is to hear that," , said Mrs.
Moon, placing a larga band on her ample batom.
"When Jerry, who in uijr grandson, wrote me his
lorrlohtp was a common soMier, I could haw
fainted, but what I thought Victor!* would bring
me to with hot water like th« spiteful imp o!
darkness she is."
"Did Jerry write?" asked Durham, making »
sign to Gore to b« silent.
"Of course he did, and said as he h»d been
turned out of his employment for a — recognising
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, th«
situation."
"It was not for that reason, Mrs. Moon. Jerry
told a lie If he wrote that to you."
'Printed or speaking ties, he tells plenty."
moaned the giantess. "Oh dear me,' so like his
poor dear' father, though I thumped him rarely
when I hud the strength. But what's my Jerry,
bad as he f* and liar though he be, a-dolng of
now? He may be starving in that nasty London,
and a rare child he was for tit-bits."
"1 can tell you where he ii, Mrs. Moon," broke
In B-rnard. "I have just heard." .He glanced
towards thn table whereon lay a letter. "He- is
a page in the house of Miss Plantagenet at Hurse
ton."
"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 hue his post," explained
Durham. "Miss Plantagenet has heard of Victoria
and sho doesn't seem to be a good companion for
Jerry. Only on condition that Victoria has noth
ing to do with Jerry will the boy be kept on. :. Uo
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 crea
ture Jcft 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 io see you, : Mark,'' said he, cordially.
"But why, did you stop jhe speaking?" , :
■ "I didn't stop you, worse luck," said Durham,
runninghis hand through his curly hair. _,"I, "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 bab
ble a }jt;' Jerry will learn in a way I need not
describe that you are here." </
"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 discov
"Anything important?" asked Gore, as the door
opened.
"Very important. I have a clue." ..■■..
\lt was Victoria,' sharp and dark and vivacious
(iB 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 jus
tice. Victoria darted a suspicious glance at Ber
nard, 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. Que.erly enough, she had heard nothing of
the murder. . ■ ■ ; .
B When she withdrew, Durham poured out two
cups of tea and ate some toast. Gore waited pa
tiently enough, but there was a restless air about
him which showed that his patience was tried se
verely At length Durham satisfied his appetite,
took /he edge off it bb 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?" ■' .. tn L, ,
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 Sep
tember, payable to bearer." .
"No He certainly did not. You forget that
we had quarreled. From the moment! left the
Hall some months ago I never received a penny
from him. I lived, as you know on what httle
money I inherited from my father. You gave
fifty pounds to me yourself. _ _ . _
"T 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 canceled with the bank-book. , I need
not .aye asEed if it had been presented, as it had,
and had also been paia. But I wanted to exam
ine the whole thing from the beginning. The
teller-who knows you-informed me that you
presented the check about the beginning of Oc
tober and that he -paid you the money. .
"U' is utterly false!" cried Gore, violently
"Keep your temper, old boy.' . said " Durham,
soothingly. "I know that as well as you do. The
™ who Presented the check was dressed as an
Will Yeoman. Hetolc l the teller he had en
listed, and the teller, thinking he was you, wish
ed him good luck.' . ■ ' , i
"But Mark," said Bernard, much perplexed,
"this double of mine must be extraordinarily like
me, for the teller knows me well g.
"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
tab. the first wife of Walter Gore. On rapid re
flection he decided to say nothing about the
matter at present, knowing Bernard's violent tern
ner He therefore confined himself to bare de
tail' "Mrs. Gilroy called at r my, office,'! he laid
slowiv "to complain that the one hundred a year
left to her by Sir Simon was not enough."
"Oh confound Mrs. oilroy," y said Gore/impa
tiently «I want to know about " this check.
Thin double who presented it .must be the fellow
who masqueraded in the kitchen. . ; . =
"And perhaps-y-ho knows— may have mvi-
St'i^fSSlSriy. ' Mr.: GHroy said she admit
ted someone like me-or, as «he thought, me
about ten. and— — v- *» ■ T . ■
"We'll come to that presently. I examined
Jane Riordan, who was courted by this fellow
apparently to get into the house. She described
you exactly, but when 1 showed her your hk«- ;
nesx she noticed that the mole on your chin wat
abtcnt from the man who met her.'
Bernard involuntarily put up his hand to touch
the mole, which was rather conspicuous "The
nwn had not this mark?','.ihe asked.
"No. " So the mole you used to cursa at school,
Bernard, may be the means of. saving your life.
Also I got a letter from the girl in which thi»i
follow makes an appointment. Her* it it."
_Gor© examined the letter thrown to him by
Durham. "It's like ray writing, but it isn't,"- h«.
said, staring. "In Heaven's name, Mark, what
doesj^ it all mean?"
"Conspiracy on the part of— ——"
"Julius Beryl," said , Gore, breathlessly.
I am not prepared to say that; but certainly
on the part of Mrs. Gilroy. While I was won
denng who this double who copied even your j
handwriting and called himself by your ' name
could be, Mrs. Gilroy called on the errand I told
you of."
TWell? Well?".
/'Don't be impatient. Well, she demanded •
more money, "and she gave it 'as her reason t for >
claiming it that your. father- Durham hesitat
ed, wondering how to explain. "Well, Mrs. Gil
roy claimed to be the '-■ wife of your • father.
and " ■ 1 fiISHsMHB
Gore started to his feet in a paroxysm of rage.'.
"The wife of. my father," he repeated. '."Why,
my -mother ig dead."
"She i said your ' mother was not the ; wifa ; of,'
"Oh I" Bernard sprang to his feet with ! bla*-';
ing eyes. "Mark!" • -■.';■
"Bernard, sit down," said Durham, 1 and literally /
forced • the impetuous boy : back : into ■ his ; chair."
"Behave like a civflzed being. Mrs.' Gilroy claims
to be your father's first. wife." v - V V ' ,:
"But if she lives, and if what she says is true,'!
my mother— l-oh— I could kill this woman." l ; %J
t "Gore," said the lawyer, T seriously,* "don't talkie
like this; remember what trouble : you are ! now V
in owing to your former rash words." •• i ':,.
"Yes! VesT" ' Bernard i struck >■ his ; forehead :
hard. "I know— l am a fool. I .didn't : mean— '?
Mark I"— he started up despite '„ the i other's i ef.f
Jprts to keep him ■ down— "do you believe. this?'!.'
"No," said Durham, ; promptly, '.'I '. don't, 'i •If |
Mrs. Gilroy was the real wife, she would not have I
kept silent so long. But I think she was deceived I
by a pretended marriage,' and : that , Sir "■> Simon,'?:
knowing this, helped , her. , I J always wondered *
what was the. bond between them, j Now I know/ii
Your father deceived the woman." •- ' V: ; {■
I "But why do you think she had anything to do i
with my father at .all, Mark? The whole story ,j
may be trumped up." V' "":' '•■■=," '• . \.':\V';'','\?'
, "I am quite sure that her tale is true,' save an'
to the marriage," was Durham's reply.!; "I don't*
say that she might not have been deceived with '
• pretended marriage, ' and that sh« thought all
was right. „ But she is not the real ,wife.'iiYour|
mother, born Tolomeo is, and you are legitimate
ly Sir Bernard Gore." ' .. „ .■.;'..■;';
■ "But your reason for '■' thinking • she (■. : speaks '
truly?". ■■;:;■ :-.. : -,y. /-^ ,vj;
"I will give one; a sufficient one. Mrs. . Gilroy 'k
declared that her son, Michael Gore-t-so sheterin- '
ed him— was the heir." : She explained. that; there':
could be no deception, ns he is the image of his
father."-' ■':..-:;■ -•;., \y '■:.'/■: ":,-. „-".'. '.
"Oh!" '•' Bernard : started ;• to his ! feet, seeing
light. . "And lam the image of my father, as wa«
always said. ; This man must be " V ; : .'_''■ J' ■.';* 's(
"He is. lam sure of that. 'i Michael, your half-J'
brother, is the man resembling you who masquer
aded—probably at the 'instance of his mother. V.I
daresay he saw Sir Simon on that night,' and was'
admitted! by his mother."; Probably he ; insisted '
that he was the heir, % and Sir,' Simon lost • his 5 ,
temper. Then he killed the old man, and ' "
'•■' "And Mrs. Gilroy put the crime on to my shoul-i
ders. <I see it all." ,
■ "I don't," said Durham, dryly. '.'I "wish; I i did ft
For instance, I don't see why you were. brought?
to Crimea Square in the nick of time for J Mrs. |
Gilroy to accuse you. I don't understand about]
the Red Window either! " :'^JflßjffiffiQjftfig{|MMflMl
Gore walked up and down the room much agi
tated. "Mark," he cried at last,' "l must come,
out and face this; I can't sit still here, knowing;
that all this villainy is about." .
"You must," insisted Mark,": firmly. "; "Remem-j,
ber I am your lawyer"and I will look after your j
interests, to say nothing of Conninton, who has I
remained in England for your sake. 'Wait,' Ber- ';•
nard. . In good time I will bring you forward." '
'But what will you do?" ttlfl^BWIKjTJ 3j!
"I shall see Mrs. Gilroy and question ber again.',
She declared that her son was in America when
I accused him to her of having killed Sir Simon.,
Now . Michael undoubtedly, presented , this '< cheek \
at the begining of October. , The .'murder tooks
place at the end of the month, so Michael was in ■
England. When '■ I place , this fact , before Mrs."
Gilroy, she may give in and confess."."
"Confess what?'', : l -. .
"That you are innocent. Whether she will ae-,
knowledge that Michael, her son, committed the
crime I can't say.". . ■ ' '■ ' ,/
"But if she refuse* to speak," murmured Gore,,
anxiously.--
■ .;' "I have means to make her speak," said Dur- ;
ham, significantly. .
CHAPTER XIV
LOVE IN. EXILE. ~
N*"™~~|EXT day at . twelve o'clock' " Durham
went back' to Hurseton to see, Mrs.
t ■ „—! Gilroy. She ' alone : ; could relate f th« \
g^^^ true ftory of the night. But before
'"x^rW ho. left Bernard he related an incident
about which he had forgotten to tell him on the
previous night. ., • ■ ' '
■'"Did you ever, see your Uncle Guiseppa Tolo
roeo?" he asked.' '
'. "Several times," . replied . Bernard. ; with { nol
very pleased expression. ."I f.»»isted : him with "
money." >" v.- v ';,.'... : . 1/: ■■ '■■'■.: l ?V .'~'l''HV
, "He is the kind of person who win always have
to be awisted," was ■ the ■ lawyer's reply. '"I
fear he is a'scamp, old fellow."'T'_ .-. . .' /^
: "So my ' grandfather said. - ' I ;' don't think ' he ■;
is a good man myself. All the same he was my
mother's brother," and I must < assist .him."" r j\
"He'll ' give you ' every opportunitycto . do' so," [
said Durham, dryly. "I had a visit A from / hint '
the other day."
V "What did he want?" . . '
"His errand was ■ similar to that ; of . Mrs. : Gil
toy's. He wished to know if Sir Simon had m«d«'
any I provision , for ■. him in ■ the will; ■> I [ told him'
he would get nothing, and then with true Italian?
excitability , he ' began . to > lament '.that * you hud '
not lived, saying ( you '. would have helped : him." :
"I shall certainly 'do that. He ia i my ; unc)«i
-when all ii said ami done. What in h« doing?"
"Playing th« violin in . some t orchestra;' Tht (
fellow, il a gentleman, Bernard, 1 but a thorough
scamp.' 'Since h« can , earn his own .bread A]
don't think it iswixe.for you to let hint livo on.
your money." ;
"There's no chance at • praient of my lettinr
him believe I will < allow that," iwid Gore, rather ;
dolefully. , "What ; else did'h* say?" ' ,
"Hnther a stranc thing. '■ He na id that he told'
Sir Simon" that the Red Lamp. would not brine
you." -...-• -y : r . •■■■ ;■.■;.;;;
~~- if» ll* ComtloovaiHext Suudar