Chapter 10

"WOMAN DISPOSES."

For a young gentleman to face with equanimity four ladies, each one more or less gifted in her particular way, especially when the said young gentleman has just proposed to one of them and been accepted, requires a considerable amount of moral courage. Aldean confessed he felt the want of it when Tui kissed him, and the three onlookers smiled sympathetically. It was only when they quitted romance for reality, and became interested in Olive's troubles in place of his engagement, that Jim recovered his equanimity. Mrs. Purcell adjusted the situation to the lower and less romantic topic with her usual majesty.

"Be seated, Lord Aldean," she said, enthroning herself on the nearest and most comfortable chair; "let me hear your opinion on this unexpected and suspicious departure of Major Semberry."

"My opinion is the same as Mallow's," replied Jim, bluntly. "Semberry has gone off to get his share of this money. It is my business to stop him getting it."

"That will be difficult," said Olive, despondently.

"It would be, Mrs. Carson, if the Major were irresponsible as well as a scamp, and if he did not happen to be in the Service. As it is, I have the pull over him, and so has Mallow. We are in a position to prove Carson's imposture through a third party, and--as Semberry must have been accessory to the swindle--I can get him cashiered if he doesn't leave the money alone and make a clean breast of his conspiracy."

"How can you prove that Olive's husband is an impostor?" asked Tui.

"By bringing forward a man called Jeremiah Trall as a witness."

"Clara's uncle!" said Olive, nodding. "I know. Mr. Mallow told me all about him. Oh! and I am married to this man."

"No, you are not, Mrs. Carson--or, rather, I should say, Miss Bellairs."

"Lord Aldean!" cried Mrs. Purcell, while Olive remained silent, too amazed for words, "I trust that you are not about to inform me that this profligate has contracted a previous matrimonial alliance."

"No, but he is not Angus Carson, and he therefore married Miss Bellairs under a false name. To do this wittingly nullifies a marriage."

"Are you certain of that?" asked Olive, pale and anxious.

"Certain. Mallow saw Dimbal about it, and, to make doubly sure, they took counsel's opinion on the subject. You are not married."

Tui threw her arms round her friend's neck.

"Oh, Olive," she said aloud, and then whispered slily, "I know why Mr. Mallow consulted the lawyer."

"The iniquity of the fellow is preposterous," said Mrs. Purcell, in her most stately tone; "nevertheless, if our dear Olive can be freed from her matrimonial bonds, I shall rejoice sincerely and without reserve."

"I should like to punish the wretch," cried Tui, vehemently.

"I'll punish him for you," murmured Jim in her ear. "Shall I kick him, or wring his neck, or throw him into the Arno?"

"Well, I think the last would be best; it might wash the sin out of him."

"Water was used for lustration by the Chaldeans," said Miss Slarge, her ruling passion strong within her. Then the genuine woman asserted herself. "Olive, my poor love, I trust indeed that this may be so, and that you will escape from the power of this bad man."

"I was never in his power," cried Olive, proudly; "he was never my husband. I hated him. I will throw the ring--no"--she stopped suddenly, and replaced the wedding-ring on her finger--"I must not cease to wear this until I am certain of my freedom. Lord Aldean," she asked suddenly, "you go over to Italy to-morrow?"

"Yes, by the nine o'clock express from Victoria."

"And you will see this--this man who calls himself Carson?"

"It is probable. I must put a stop to his game and Semberry's. I promised Mallow to do so."

"Then I will go to Florence with you."

Mrs. Purcell stared. Her face assumed an expression of horror.

"My dear," she said, aghast, "are you in your right mind?"

"Of course I am. I must and will know the truth about this man, and, what is more, I intend to hear it from his own lips."

"But--but that woman!" gasped Miss Slarge.

"If I am not married to the man, she is nothing to me. Lord Aldean, will you take me to Florence?"

"Certainly," said Jim, promptly; "and I think that you are brave and right to face your troubles so boldly."

"She is a heroine," cried Tui; then whispered softly, "and you are a dear."

"Pray consider the feelings of society," boomed Mrs. Purcell.

"I prefer to consider my own, thank you. It is no use talking, my mind is made up, and Lord Aldean has consented to take me. I must know how I stand towards this man. I must hear from himself that he is not Carson, and I must recover the money stolen from me."

"Oh dear me!" wailed Miss Slarge. "Can't you wait until Mr. Brock calls? He is in town. He writes to say that he will visit us to-morrow afternoon."

"Can't wait," struck in Aldean, judiciously; "promised Mallow to follow Semberry next train. Must be off nine sharp."

"I shall be at the station at half-past eight," cried Olive. "You get the tickets and engage a carriage, Lord Aldean."

"Consider the feelings of Mr. Mallow.'

"Oh, he will be glad I am going. Mr. Mallow is not a prude. I'll write him a note to-night. Perhaps he will be at the station in the morning."

"No need to write," said Aldean, rising; "I am going round to his rooms now. I'll tell him, if I see him, though it's just possible I may not see him. He's so mixed up with these Anarchists that he never keeps regular hours now."

"I cannot but condemn this insane determination."

"Oh, but, Mrs. Purcell, you can trust Olive with Lord Aldean," coaxed Tui. "I am sure you ought to, when I trust him with her."

"I have a great mind to undertake the journey myself," cried Mrs. Purcell, with energy, "but I fear that the excessive travelling would prove highly injurious to me."

"Two days and two nights," hinted Aldean; "it's a corker of a trail."

"You must not think of going, Mrs. Purcell," said Olive, resolutely. "I will go alone with Lord Aldean, so that is all about it. Good-night, Lord Aldean; there is none too much time. I must go and pack."

When Olive had left the room, both Aldean and Tui brought their persuasive powers to bear upon Mrs. Purcell. After no small amount of trouble, they succeeded in reducing her to a more pliable state of mind. She confessed that Olive's position was so extraordinary, that perhaps extraordinary measures were justifiable for the adjustment of it. In the end, she went further, and expressed her opinion that it was right the girl should go.

"But for her own sake," said Mrs. Purcell, severely, "the more so, seeing that she has been so wantonly deceived by that unprincipled profligate, you must take the greatest care of her, Lord Aldean."

"I will treat her as I would a sister of my own," said Jim.

This seemed to suffice Mrs. Purcell. She fussed out of the room to help Olive with her packing, followed in a few minutes by Miss Slarge, tearful and doubtful: The room was empty, and the two young people grasped their opportunity for saying good-bye, after their own fashion, and in their own time. Jim--in this instance, at least--was nothing if not thorough, and fully twenty minutes elapsed before he descended the staircase. As he lay in bed that night, he confessed to himself that the love-scenes of fiction were not so highly coloured after all. The course of his true love had at last begun to run very smooth indeed.

But before going home to dream of his good fortune, Lord Aldean had not forgotten to call at Mallow's rooms, only to learn from the night porter that their occupant was still absent. Little thinking how Laurence's impulsive Irish spirit had led him into difficulties, Jim scribbled a few lines on his card, to say that Major Semberry had left that evening for Florence, and that, with Mrs. Carson, he intended to follow by the nine o'clock morning mail from Victoria. This card he gave to the porter, with strict injunctions that it was to be handed to Mr. Mallow immediately on his return. That done, Aldean abandoned himself with a clear conscience to the full enjoyment of his dreams.

Shortly before eight o'clock next morning he drove to the station, arriving there on the stroke of the half-hour. He quite expected to find Mallow waiting for him; but there was no sign of him. Jim could only conclude he had not received the card.

"Been out all night, I suppose," grumbled Aldean, in no very good temper. "In the thick of it with the brutes in Soho, I expect. I only hope he won't get into trouble with them. Must have spotted and followed Hain; he's probably hanging on to him till the police run him in."

It was a cold, raw morning, and Jim, in a fur-lined coat, rolled about the platform like a giant bear. He took two through tickets to Florence, bought a couple of morning papers and some illustrated weeklies, and, with the assistance of the guard, engaged a carriage supplied with foot-warmers. Hardly had he completed his preparations when Olive made her appearance, accompanied, to his great delight, by Miss Ostergaard. Both ladies were in the best of spirits.

"But I don't see Mr. Mallow," said Olive, her face falling somewhat. "Does he not know that I am going?"

"Told him so last night--that is, I left an explanatory card for him; but he can't have got it."

"Oh, Lord Aldean, I trust nothing is wrong with him."

"No fear of that," replied Jim, confidently. "You can trust Mallow to look after himself; besides, he told me he might very likely be away for some time over this Hain business."

"Is that the man connected with the murder?"

"Yes; Vraik reported that he had seen him talking to Semberry in Poplar Street, so Mallow determined to catch him himself."

"Talking to Major Semberry?" said Tui, thoughtfully. "That looks as though the Major had something to do with poor Mr. Carson's death."

"I have not the slightest doubt about it. Semberry knows a good deal more than he is inclined to tell. But you needn't worry about Mallow, Mrs. Carson--or, shall I say, Miss Bellairs?"

"No, no," said Olive, hurriedly. "Don't please do that for the present. Have you the tickets?"

"Yes; tickets, and carriages, and papers. Everything is square."

"Are you well wrapped up?" asked Tui, with an air of proprietorship.

"Warm as toast," said Jim, laughing, and they walked down the platform.

"You have left nothing behind, Jim?"

"Nothing, except my heart."

"And that is in good keeping," said Olive, smiling. "Lord Aldean, wait in the carriage with Tui while I buy a paper."

"Plenty of papers here," said the stupid Aldean, not seeing her kindly intention.

Tui, more quick-witted, turned over the journals.

"Telegraph, Morning Post, Daily Mail, Sketch, and Graphic," she counted, "and not a single fashion-paper amongst them; so like a man."

Jim looked depressed, and Olive went off, laughing, in search of publications of a more particularly feminine nature. Tui and her lover were left alone in the carriage.

"Oh, what a donkey!" she said, shaking her head.

For the moment Aldean failed utterly to understand. Then a comprehension of her meaning dawned upon him, and doubtless he did his best to make amends.

Tui's farewell left him in a state of ecstasy, which endured long after the train rolled out of the station. He stared solemnly out of the window, and Olive, who knew well where his thoughts were, had not the heart to break so sacred a silence. She let him dream on, and secluded herself behind her morning paper. He had been indulging himself for the best part of half an hour, when a startled exclamation from Olive aroused him.

"Oh, how dreadful!" she said.

"'What's the matter?" said Jim, shortly. "Anything wrong?"

"I should think so. Poor Mr. Brock has been run over."

"By Jove! you don't say so? When? Where?"

"Yesterday evening, in Marquis Street," said Olive, referring to the paper. "He was crossing the road, when a hansom, coming too quickly round the corner, knocked him down. His leg was broken, and they took him to Charing Cross Hospital."

"Poor old chap!" said Aldean, sympathetically. "Deuced hard lines on a man of his age. Marquis Street, did you say? Why, that's where Semberry lives."

"He intended calling on Major Semberry, I know," said Olive. "In his letter to Miss Slarge he said so. Dear me, I am sorry for him."

"So am I. He's a good old chap, is Brock. May I see the account?"

Olive passed him the paper. He read the account, but beyond being sincerely sorry for his friend the vicar, he attached no especial importance to it. Little did he think how significant it really was. This particular ill wind, in common with others of its kind, blew great good to somebody. That somebody was Major Semberry. How good a wind it was for him they neither of them knew till it was too late.