Chapter 27

ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL.

The title of Shakespeare's comedy quite suited the present state of affairs at the Grange, seeing that the worst was over. Within a week everything was put straight. The inquests on Madame Marie, on Dolly Rover, and on Felix Jadby lead to a disclosure of the whole strange story in the newspapers. Luckily, owing to strong influence being brought to bear, the painful love story of Shepworth and Mrs. Rover was suppressed, and it was supposed that merely the desire to save Miss Chent had led Dolly to that lonely hut, where he met with his death. Indeed, the little man became somewhat of a hero, and—as the saying goes—"nothing in life became him better than his manner of leaving it." The public followed his body to the grave with eulogistic comments, and Dolly's spirit must have smiled at the irony of the semi-public funeral. Jadby and the miserable woman, who had loved him so dearly, were buried quietly in the Folkstone cemetery. As to Brisson, he disappeared into the unknown, and nothing was ever heard of him again. Which was just as well, as Prelice had punished him in a measure by shooting him in the shoulder.

But the whole affair was a nine days' wonder, and those connected with it were glad when the excitement began to simmer down. It was annoying to have photographs of the Grange appearing in numberless illustrated papers; and still more annoying when the said pictures sent trippers across the Downs to the lonely hollow. They came in shoals, in char-a-bancs, in motor cars, in traps and carts, and riding on bicycles. But Martaban, who was taking charge of everything until his dear client became Lady Prelice, instructed the police to keep the sight-seers out of the grounds. Therefore these could only stare from the smooth heights of the Downs into the woody hollow.

And that was unpleasant enough to a couple of ardent lovers, who found their wanderings in the enchanted gardens overlooked by kodak fiends, though Heaven knows what kind of a picture these creatures hoped to obtain at such a distance. However, unless Mona and Prelice took refuge in the woods or in the house, they had nowhere to go, for the lawns, girdled by trees, were quite open to the gazers from above.

"I feel like a Christian martyr in the Colosseum," said Prelice, when the sight of three bicycles, with three dismounting riders, sent them hastily into the drawing-room. "What an infernal nuisance it is to be kodaked to make a British holiday."

"Never mind, darling," said Mona, taking his arm to lead him to a most comfortable window-seat; "let us sit here and talk. I have something to show you. Mrs. Rover sent it down. Look!"

Prelice glanced at the near table, and saw a shallow bronze cup of a somewhat graceful shape. "Is that THE cup?" he asked, examining it.

"Yes. Mrs. Rover found it in the cupboard. I expect Captain Jadby left it there along with the dress. It is rudely made, but pretty."

It was indeed quaint, being of rough bronze, carved with hideous heads twined round with wreaths of some strange plant. Prelice examined it closely. "By Jove, Mona," he said, "I believe these faces are wreathed with imitations of the Sacred Herb. See, the same spear-shaped leaves with the serrated edges. I wish we had some of the herb to compare."

"I have," said Mona, going to a cabinet and pulling out a drawer; "I have just one leaf left!" And she brought forward the purple withered leaf which, as Prelice had pointed out, exactly resembled the chasings of the cup. "It must have come from Easter Island," said Mona, while the two bent their heads over it.

"I never wish to hear of Easter Island again," said Prelice, putting down the cup; "it has brought such misery."

"Do you call me misery?" said Mona reproachfully. "Hasn't it brought me to you?"

"Yes, in a way; but Lady Sophia is really responsible. Jerusalem! Just fancy, Mona, dearest, she sent me to the New Bailey to find an interest in life, and——"

"And you have," said Mona, blushing and smiling.

Prelice said nothing, but kissed her twice, with a look which spoke volumes. "But I wish Aunt Sophia would be agreeable to the match," sighed the young man. "I am fond of Aunt Sophia, although she is such a worry. Besides, I want her to present you at Court after our marriage."

"Do you indeed," said a complacent voice at the door, and the two looked up in great amazement to behold Lady Sophia standing there in the best of spirits, and the most perfect of summer dresses. "I have stolen a march on you," said the lady, coming forward, "and waited for a dramatic moment upon which to enter. Your speech, my dear Prelice, was a happy one; but I am not a worry."

"Aunt Sophia, how did you come here?"

"In a motor car along with Dr. Horace, who will soon be in. We left the car at the lodge-keeper's, because the creature would insist that we were trippers wanting to see the house. Do I look like a tripper?" And Lady Sophia spun round for inspection.

"You are a——" Prelice stopped, and glared. "I sha'n't say what you are until you tell me if you come in peace or war."

For answer Lady Sophia turned to Mona, and took her to her breast. "My dearest girl," she said, smiling, "when you marry George Prelice you must really try and put some sense into his head."

"Do you wish me to marry him?" asked Mona rather scared.

"Of course I do," cried Lady Sophia with asperity. "What else am I here for, you dear, silly, pretty, sweet, angelic darling?"

"Hurrah, Aunt Sophia! I endorse all the unnecessary adjectives save the second!"

"You can take that to yourself, Prelice. Now what am I?"

"A weathercock," said her graceless nephew promptly, although she quite expected him to say something else. "You bully-ragged me about my marriage, and now you—— Oh, I say," ended Prelice in dismay, for Lady Sophia had burst into tears, "whatever is the matter?"

"I'm so wicked," sobbed the old lady, clinging to Mona. "Simon has told me all, and how very nearly he was being accused of murder. It was so lucky that his connection with this horrid herb thing was kept out of the papers, or else I never, never, never should have held up my head again. Oh, that I might have lived to see my husband in a nasty dock."

"Don't trouble," whispered Mona, leading the old lady to the sofa; "it is all right. Mr. Haken is in no danger."

"And that being so," cried Prelice indignantly, "he might have held his confounded tongue, and not worried you."

"My dear George," said Lady Sophia, wiping her eyes, "he did it for your sake. I was raging against the marriage, and he told me how nearly he had been an Old Bailey thing, or a New Bailey creature. I forget which. I saw then how very easily one can be accused of things they hadn't the slightest intention of doing. And so—I am here. Kiss me, my love," cried Lady Sophia, again embracing Mona. "You are much, oh, ever so much, too good for Prelice."

"And I was too good for her some time ago," laughed Prelice. "Aunt Sophia, you are a weathercock; but," he added, shaking hands, "I am glad that a kind wind has blown you round to being pleased. You are an angel."

"I've been very horrid," said Lady Sophia penitently, "but I have made it up with everyone—even with Constance, poor thing, although she did behave badly with that silly poodle creature."

"He is dead, so let him rest, Aunt Sophia; and Constance has been punished, so don't blame her any more."

"I am not blaming her. How silly you are, Prelice. Don't I tell you that I've called to see her? She looks so well in her mourning, and so very happy. Mr. Shepworth is keeping away from her for a time; but they quite understand each other, and marry in a year. It will be a good match for Mr. Shepworth, for Constance will have all that poor thing's money. She won't have any bridesmaids, though, being a widow."

Lady Sophia's discontented chatter was ended by the entrance of Dr. Horace, still gruff and untidy and aggressive. "Oh, here you are," said Lady Sophia, "looking more like a man out of the Stone Age than ever. I take him about as an illustration of the time when people lived in sweet little caves, and wore sables all the year round."

"'Day, Prelice," said Horace, taking no notice of Lady Sophia's babble. "How are you, Miss Chent? I have come to say good-bye. I can't stand this London rot, so I'm off again to the other side of the world."

"Go to Polynesia, and ask Brisson how his arm is," said Prelice. "But, I say, you treated me rather badly over this case."

"Bosh! Pickles and fal-de-lal," snorted the traveller. "Why, I gave you back the will, and did my best for Haken's sake to keep you from going into the case."

"Yes, yes!" said Mona, jumping up to take Horace's hand. "I won't have him scolded."

Horace grunted, and disengaged his arm, in no wise impressed by the beauty of Mona. "Such a dear, delightful cave bear," sighed Lady Sophia on seeing this.

But Dr. Horace's eyes were fixed greedily upon the bronze cup. "I see that you have the Sacred Herb Burner of Easter Island," said he, fingering the bronze lovingly.

"How do you know?"

"I saw it there. I expect Jadby stole it. This cup," said Horace, raising it aloft, "is thousands and thousands of years old. It is a remnant of Lemurian civilisation. See how like these heads are to the heads of the Easter Island statues. And the leaves of the herb are indicated. Give me this, Prelice, and I'll take it back to those poor priests on the island. They will be delighted to see it again. It is used in their sacred ceremonies."

Prelice glanced at Mona. "What do you say?" he asked. "Mrs. Rover sent it to you, my darling."

"Take it away, take it away," cried the girl, shuddering, and spreading out her hands. "I never wish to see or hear anything of the Sacred Herb again. It has been a terrible time all through, but," she added, looking tenderly at Prelice, "it has led to happiness."

"I should like to see the herb," said Lady Sophia, coming forward, with her lorgnette raised. "Dr. Horace, can you show it to me?"

"No; I can't," growled the doctor. "I gave all I had to your husband."

"There is one leaf left," said Mona, picking up the same. "Give me the cup. Dorry, have you a match?"

"Don't send us into trances," said Prelice jokingly.

"I should love it above all things," said Lady Sophia.

Mona laid the leaf on the bronze cup, and lighted it. A thin stream of white smoke curled into the air, and, while the two women and the two men stood back to avoid the fumes, a sickly scent of tuberoses spread through the room. The leaf frizzled into nothing, and Dr. Horace slipped the still warm cup into his capacious pocket. "That's the last of the Sacred Herb in England," said he; and without saying farewell, trotted towards the door. There he stopped to wave a friendly hand, and departed, en route to Polynesia and to Easter Island.

Lady Sophia fell back on to the sofa. "I declare this smell makes me quite giddy," she said, sniffing; "it's like funerals and coffins. I don't wonder people go into trances with it and see things." She bent forward, with her lorgnette to her eyes, and laughed. "I am in a trance now," she said gaily. "I see—I see—the prettiest bride in the Three Kingdoms."

"And the happiest bridegroom," said Prelice, slipping his arm round Mona's waist.

"And I see—I see——"

"You see this," said Mona; and laying her arms about her lover's neck, she kissed him fairly on the mouth.

"I think trances are quite improper," said Lady Sophia, rising. "My dear, if you will ask me to remain to dinner, I'll stop and talk over your wedding-dress."

THE END.