Chapter 19

A BOLD OFFER.

Lady Corsoon duly arrived and duly complained of the length of the journey. The strain to which her nerves were subjected on account of the suspense she suffered regarding The Spider's blackmailing, rendered her somewhat irritable, and those around felt the effects of her temper. But Lucy, having a singularly placid nature, invariably contrived to soothe down her mother's ruffled plumes, while the two men, knowing what Lady Corsoon felt, paid her every attention. The next morning, therefore, she felt somewhat better and acknowledged that The Grange was endurable. But she resolutely refused to call straightway at Gerby Hall.

"I shall go to-morrow," she said when Towton urged the visit. "My nerves must have time to recover from the journey into these wilds. Besides, Ida should call and see me, since I am the elder."

"But I wish you to persuade Ida to take up her quarters here while you remain," pleaded the Colonel. "She is infatuated with Miss Hest and will, I am certain, not come here of her own accord."

"I'm sure I never could understand what Ida saw in that woman," said Lady Corsoon fretfully. "Miss Hest is nice enough and quite agreeable, but nothing out of the ordinary. When my poor, dear brother died Ida should have accepted my guardianship. I offered twice to look after her, but she refused--because of this Hest woman, I presume."

"You must remember, Lady Corsoon, that Ida is a spoilt child----"

"Spoilt!" interrupted the lady; "I should think so. Many a time have I implored Martin not to ruin her; but I might as well have spoken to a block of stone. You will have no easy task to manage her when you make her your wife, Colonel."

"I am quite certain that when Ida is removed from the companionship of Miss Hest I shall be able to manage her with the greatest ease," said Towton emphatically; "but the question is how to get her away. I look to you to use your influence, dear lady."

"Mine? Why, I never had the least influence with that headstrong girl, my dear Colonel. I'll go to-morrow and give her a talking to, and perhaps I may be able to induce her to return with me to London. But while she is the mistress of ten thousand a year she can defy me. Now, if The Spider can give me that fortune, as he declares, I shall soon bring Ida to see that she must behave like a sensible human being. I suppose Mr. Vernon told you of the letter I received? He hinted as much to me, though I think he should have held his tongue."

"He did hold his tongue about your business, more or less, Lady Corsoon. It was Mr. Maunders who let slip the secret."

"And what business is it of Mr. Maunders', I should like to know?" asked Lady Corsoon, putting up her lorgnette and looking haughtily at Towton.

"This much--that he wrote the letter."

"What!" Lady Corsoon bounded from her seat. "Then he is The Spider?"

"No," said the Colonel prudently, who did not intend to tell his companion more than he could help, as he placed no reliance on her tongue; "but, knowing from yourself about the first letter you received from The Spider, and anxious to marry your daughter, he made use of the blackmailer's scheme to secure his own ends."

"What audacity! Can he--Mr. Maunders, I mean--really place me in possession of Martin's money?"

"I can't answer that for the moment," replied the Colonel carefully, "but at any rate by promising to do so he hoped to marry Miss Lucy."

"He shall never do that," cried Lady Corsoon energetically; "unless, of course, he keeps his promise. Lucy must save me from----" She hesitated.

"Mr. Maunders told me about your losses at bridge, and----"

"And that I pawned certain family jewels," finished the lady. "Well, I never! To think he should discuss my affairs in this way. I have been a fool: I don't deny that I have been a fool, but there was no need for Mr. Maunders to let the whole world know."

"The world is only represented by myself and Vernon," said the Colonel drily, "and your secret is safe with us."

"But Mr. Maunders----"

"He has his hands full. You won't see him again."

"But in that case his promise----"

"My dear Lady Corsoon, I do not think he will be able to keep his promise, for certain reasons which I need not tell you now. Better give your consent to the marriage of Vernon and Miss Lucy. They love one another and he will soon have a title and an income."

"Did you invite me down with Lucy to forward that marriage?" asked Lady Corsoon with sudden suspicion.

"Partly," answered Towton coolly, "and partly because I wished to enlist you on my side as regards Ida."

"Oh, I am willing to help you, but as to Mr. Vernon--he is with Lucy now?"

"Yes. They have gone for a walk."

Lady Corsoon frowned. "Lucy could make a much better match," she said hesitating.

"With Constantine Maunders, for instance."

"At all events, he promises me ten thousand a year."

"On what grounds?"

"I don't know."

"Then, believe me, he is only bluffing."

"But he knows about my pawning of the jewels, and even if this horrid Spider creature holds his tongue Mr. Maunders may tell Sir Julius. Then heaven only knows what would happen; Julius is so impossible."

"I shall engage that Maunders remains silent if you will give your consent to the marriage. After all, Miss Lucy would be Lady Vernon."

"She could be a countess if she played her cards well. I really don't know what to say; I am in the dark, so to speak. Wait until I see Ida and then I may form an opinion."

"How can Ida help you to do so?"

"She may be able to tell me if there was a will in my favour. I really believe from that letter of The Spider's--well, of Mr. Maunders', since you say he wrote it--that Martin left the money to me and that Ida destroyed the will. I'm sure she's capable of it."

"Permit me to remind you, Lady Corsoon," said the Colonel sternly, "that Miss Dimsdale is to be my wife and that I shall not permit anyone to cast a slur on her character. If the money is left to you she will hand it over."

"What, ten thousand a year?" said Lady Corsoon beaming. "Oh, she would be a good girl if she did that. Well, I shall wait and see. In the meantime I do not mind Mr. Vernon being with Lucy."

Colonel Towton shrugged his square shoulders. He thought that the lady was making a virtue of necessity, as the young couple had taken French leave after breakfast and had vanished. And had Lady Corsoon been gifted with supernatural sight she would scarcely have been pleased had she seen the two sitting by Bolly Dam with their arms round one another. Also Lucy, the meek, the amiable, the well-conducted, was kissing Vernon in the boldest manner and swearing that she would marry him and him only.

"Mother wants me to marry Mr. Maunders," said Lucy, snuggling up close to her lover, "and papa desires me to become the wife of Lord Stratham. But I shall only marry you, darling, you. Arthur," she pressed her cheek against his breast and looked up into his eyes, "run away with me."

"Would you elope if I asked you?"

"I have just offered to elope without your asking me," she replied nodding. "I can't speak plainer, can I? Oh, dear me," she sighed, resting her head on her lover's shoulder, "how weary I am of everything. Papa is always busy in the City and has hardly a word to say to me; mamma has some secret worry about which she will not speak, and I am left to find my own amusements. Do take me away, Arthur. Isn't Gretna Green somewhere about these parts? Let us go there and get married."

"No, dear. I don't think there will be any need for a runaway match, unless it is the romance of the thing that you desire. Colonel Towton has promised to speak to your mother, and I have an idea that he will gain her consent to our marriage."

"She consented before," pouted Miss Corsoon, "and then changed her mind. Why, I'm sure I don't know. It's much better to get married quietly and then she would have to forgive us."

"My dear," said Vernon firmly, "I prefer to act honourably and openly. From a letter I received this morning it seems that my poor uncle cannot live much longer. In a month at the latest I shall be in possession of the property and the title; then I shall see your father and demand your hand. He likes me, and when he learns of my new circumstances I am sure he will consent. With him on our side your mother will be quite willing to accept me as her son-in-law."

"I'll do whatever you say, dearest," whispered Lucy fondly, "only I'll never marry anyone but you. So there!" and she gave him a kiss which her lover promptly returned. Then they sat hand in hand, looking at the view, and too happy to speak further. Love's silence is more eloquent than Love's speech.

Before them the reservoir rippled under the breath of a gentle wind, and spread like a vast blue lake toward the purple of the moorlands. Immediately in front of the lovers the massive wall of the dam stretched from side to side of the valley, which here was extremely narrow. Looking at that vast body of water, Vernon could not help doubting the strength of the protecting wall as the wavelets almost lipped its top. There was a channel on the hither side with flood-gates, but it seemed too small to carry off much superfluous water. In summer time the dam was no doubt all that could be desired in the way of strength, but when the winter snows melted on the moorlands it appeared probable--at least, Vernon, knowing nothing of engineering, thought so--that the water would overflow the dam. In that case it might break down the wall, and then the young man shuddered to think of what would happen. The whole contents of the lake, narrowed by the gorge, would shoot down the three odd miles of the valley with the force and condensation of a hose, and assuredly would sweep it clean from end to end.

"To make things safe," said Vernon aloud and giving speech to his thoughts, "there should be two channels for waste water, each broader than the single one over there. I'm sure there will be a catastrophe some winter or spring."

"Oh!" Lucy pouted again. "I speak of love and you bother yourself over this silly old puddle."

"It would prove to be anything but a puddle if the dam broke," said Vernon doubtfully. "I hope Towton will take steps to make things safer. Bowderstyke Village and Gerby Hall would be smashed to pieces if this vast body of water discharged itself without leave."

And he stared anxiously at the placid lake.

Miss Corsoon, rather annoyed by this unlover-like conduct, rose quickly and consulted a tiny jewelled watch pinned to her blouse. "It's nearly luncheon-time," she said with an affectation of indifference, "and I am so hungry."

"Hungry?" Vernon caught her hands, "when we are together."

"I can't live on love, and you keep talking of this stupid waterworks. We really must go home, Arthur, as mamma will be wondering what has become of us. You don't wish to get me scolded?"

"I'll bear half of the scolding. Hullo! Who is this?"

He shaded his eyes with his hand and looked across the reservoir to where a tall figure appeared on the broad parapet of the dam. The figure--it was that of a man--came swiftly across, but midway caught sight of the lovers. For one minute the stranger stared as if thunderstruck, and then retreated as quickly as he had appeared. Lucy caught hold of her lover's coat to prevent his following.

"Where are you going, Arthur? Who is it?"

"Hokar," said Vernon, greatly excited but pausing for a moment. "It's the Hindoo who tried to strangle me and the Colonel."

"What?" Lucy's voice sounded so terrified that he turned at once to apologise and excuse himself. "Nothing, dear; nothing. But this Hokar is a dangerous native of India whom I wish to get hold of. He went down into the valley on the other side, so I must----"

"Don't leave me! don't leave me!" wailed Lucy, desperately detaining him. "I wish you wouldn't frighten me, Arthur. Come home at once."

"But I want to follow Hokar. It is necessary----"

"It is necessary to see me home," insisted Miss Corsoon firmly. "I won't be left alone with wild Indians and strangling people."

Vernon was torn between his desire to stay with Lucy and a feeling that it was his duty to follow Hokar. He wished to meet the Hindoo face to face and force him to speak. As he was the servant of Maunders--masquerading as Diabella--he probably knew something, if not indeed a great deal, about Hest, and a few questions might intimate the villain's whereabouts. But the man had already vanished and it would be difficult to trace him, although Vernon had a shrewd suspicion that he was to be found at Gerby Hall. For a moment the young man hesitated between duty and pleasure, then, under the reproachful gleam of Lucy's eyes, pleasure gained the victory. Vernon escorted Miss Corsoon back to The Grange, comforting himself with the reflection that it was necessary to consult Colonel Towton before taking any steps to bring Hokar to book. All the way home Lucy chatted in a lively manner, but, preoccupied with his own thoughts, Vernon was somewhat absentminded, a cause of offence to the girl. But how could any man give way to the ruling passion of love when one of the villains concerned in a dangerous conspiracy against society was in the neighbourhood? Vernon wondered how Hokar had come to these solitudes and how Hest had succeeded in lulling his sister's suspicions, so that she might receive the man. For, on the face of it, Hokar must be staying at Gerby Hall.

After a merry luncheon, during which Lady Corsoon, bearing in mind her late conversation with her host, was very gracious to Vernon, the ladies departed to their boudoir, the mother to rest and the daughter to write letters. Lucy, indeed, wished to call and see Ida, but Lady Corsoon refused to let her go alone, and again expressed her determination not to pay a visit until the next day. Lucy, always anxious to keep her parent in a good temper, was obliged to fall in with this arrangement, and followed Lady Corsoon out of the room.

It could be easily seen that the wily wife of the millionaire was unwilling to leave her daughter in the too fascinating society of Vernon, and evidently had made up her mind not to consent to the match until she was certain that her late brother's fortune would _not_ come into her hands.

Left alone with the Colonel, the young man related how unexpectedly Hokar had appeared and disappeared on the dam. Towton listened frowningly and considered awhile before expressing his opinion.

"There's something suspicious about all this," he said at length. "Here is Miss Jewin, the very woman who tricked you into becoming a prisoner at that West Kensington house, and here also is Hokar, the Hindoo, so closely connected with Maunders, and, for all we know, with Hest."

"What do you make of it all?"

"It's a gang of thieves," said Towton unhesitatingly. "Hokar, Bahadur, Miss Jewin, Maunders, and Hest are all banded together under the leadership of the last as The Spider. He has vanished, and so has Maunders, so I expect he sent down the Hindoos here in order that they might be out of the way."

"And Miss Jewin?"

"She has always been the housekeeper at Gerby Hall, Vernon. But I daresay Hest got her to come to London to be used as a tool, knowing that he could trust her. She is a very old and faithful woman, and I believe was the nurse of both Hest and his sister. The people hereabouts call her an old witch, and she is credited with all manner of occult powers."

"I can understand Miss Hest not being suspicious of Miss Jewin," said Vernon thoughtfully, "as she may have gone to London ostensibly for a trip and then would have returned in the ordinary course of things. But Miss Hest must surely wonder at the presence of Hokar. I am bound to say that I did not see Bahadur."

"He may be here, or he may not," rejoined the Colonel; "We'll soon find out. To-morrow I go with Lady Corsoon to see Ida, and then I can warn Miss Hest of the character of the man. If, indeed, she doesn't know it."

"Towton, you surely don't suspect Miss Hest of knowing anything about her brother's wickedness?"

"No, I don't say that. And yet it is strange the Hindoo should be there. And why should he be lurking about the Bolly Dam? I shall go myself to-morrow, after I have seen Miss Hest, to make an examination."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean that a crafty devil like Hokar doesn't take walks for the benefit of his health, and that he may be tampering with the dam--perhaps by order of Francis Hest."

"In that case, why not have the dam examined to-day?"

"There is no immediate hurry. Hokar will find it no easy task to break down that gigantic wall, if that is his aim. Besides, the Vicar is calling this afternoon to pay his respects to Lady Corsoon. I wish to have a chat with him on the subject of Hest, and to learn what he thinks of him."

"What can he think, but that Hest is a genuine philanthropist?"

"I daresay Hest is one person here and another in London. However, it will do no harm to collect what information we can concerning him. To-morrow you can come with Lady Corsoon and her daughter to see Ida, and I shall go also. Afterwards you can inspect the dam."

"Won't you come, too?" asked Vernon.

"No. The fact is, I intend to ride to Gatehead to-morrow afternoon. I shall leave you and the ladies at Gerby Hall. My steward wants to see me about some property which requires looking after in one of the near villages. It will be easy for me to ride there and look into the matter myself. I can trust you to amuse my guests."

Thus it was arranged, and Vernon put all questions concerning Hokar and Bolly Dam out of his head. Lucy managed to evade the watchfulness of her mother when that good lady fell asleep, and the lovers had a stolen half hour all to themselves until the arrival of the vicar. After that came tea and gossip, and a very pleasant afternoon ended gleefully. But the most important event of the next twelve hours happened after dinner, when the Colonel was called out of the drawing-room to see a visitor. He left Vernon to amuse Lady Corsoon and her daughter and took his way to the library, where the visitor--who had not sent in any name--was waiting for him. To Towton's surprise, the stranger proved to be Frances Hest.

"My dear lady, why did you not join us in the drawing-room?" he asked hospitably. "I'm sure the surprise would be a pleasant one."

"Not to Lady Corsoon," said Frances quietly. "She is not over fond of me. Besides, I have come to see you privately and on a most important matter."

"Ida," cried the Colonel anxiously. "Is she ill?"

"No, no! Set your mind at rest about Ida. She has not changed since you saw her yesterday. She doesn't know that I am here, nor does an one else; not even your servant, as I gave no name when I was admitted. Is the door closed?" and she cast a searching, nervous look around.

"This room is perfectly private," said Towton, noting that she looked anxious and haggard. "Nothing mentioned here can be heard. I hope nothing is wrong."

Frances sat down and sighed heavily. "This much is wrong," she said with a gloomy look, "that I have learned the truth about my brother."

"The truth----"

"What you told me yesterday is the truth," said Miss Hest bitterly. "He is a scoundrel and--as it seems probable--a murderer. Yet I had no suspicions of him, not even when he sent that Indian down here."

"Hokar?" said Towton, secretly pleased that his doubts on this point were about to be resolved.

"Yes. Some time ago he came here with a letter from Francis, saying that he was to remain here for a time. I gave him house-room and did not pay much attention to the man, as I thought it was only another of my brother's philanthropic schemes. But, from what you said yesterday, this Hokar is connected with Mr. Maunders and my brother in their wickedness. Oh," Frances struck the table with her clenched hands, "to think that our name should be so disgraced by my brother!"

"What have you discovered?"

"That he is The Spider. Yes; there can be no doubt of that. See!"

She took a long blue envelope from her pocket and opened it to display a paper. "This is a mortgage on Gerby Hall and on all the property," she explained. "The Deed of Gift to me is worth nothing. Interest is due on the mortgage, and unless it is paid, the man to whom the money is owing will foreclose. No wonder Francis presented me with the estates. They are worth nothing and less than nothing. I am actually a pauper."

"Oh, I am extremely sorry to hear that, Miss Hest. But how does this paper prove that your brother is The Spider?"

"It proves that I am a pauper and nothing more. But I discovered amongst my brother's papers the will of poor Mr. Dimsdale."

Towton started to his feet. "What! is there a will?"

"Yes. It is signed by Martin Dimsdale and witnessed by George Venery, of Singapore, and Walter Smith, of Hong-Kong. After what you said yesterday, I made up my mind that I would no longer be in the dark regarding my brother's doings. I therefore broke open his desk, which he always kept safely locked, and found a written statement regarding Ida not being Mr. Dimsdale's daughter, but the child of a certain Mr. Menteith."

"Your brother must have learned that story from Miss Jewin," said the Colonel. "For Maunders declared that she knew the history."

"I quite believe it," replied Miss Hest. "For the statement was signed by Sarah Jewin. I have not spoken to her yet, but I shall do so to-morrow. She was in India with my father and mother and afterwards in Burmah. I expect she heard the story there, and related it to Francis. He added to it."

"Oh!" Towton remembered about the embroidery to the tale. "Then Mr. Dimsdale did not purposely delay the relief expedition which was to rescue Menteith?"

"No. He pressed on with all speed. But Francis invented that wicked lie so as to get money from Mr. Dimsdale. How Francis got the will I can't say. He certainly called at 'Rangoon' once or twice when he was in London, but I scarcely think Mr. Dimsdale would have given him the will."

"Probably he stole it. I am sorry to hurt your feelings, Miss Hest," added the Colonel hastily on seeing her wince. "But your brother is extremely clever in a criminal way, and nothing he does surprises me. I quite believe he was clever enough to get this will. Where is it?"

"I have left it at home, and if you will call to-morrow I shall give it to you. But I must make conditions."

"Conditions?" The Colonel looked puzzled.

"Ah, don't think badly of me," said Frances in an imploring manner. "But consider my position. I am without a penny, for the property must certainly be handed over to the man to whom it is mortgaged. Listen, Colonel. This will states that Ida is not the testator's daughter, and leaves everything to Ida Menteith, so there can be no doubt that she inherits. Now, Ida loves you, and although I wished her to marry my brother or Mr. Maunders, she always desired to be your wife. I am glad now that she did not yield to my persuasions, since both Francis and Constantine are criminals and exiles. So I want you to take her away to-morrow and marry her and enter into possession of the Dimsdale property."

"You are very good, Miss Hest," said Towton, who could not but acknowledge that she was acting most generously. "But your condition?"

"It is scarcely that, Colonel; merely a suggestion. I shall give you the will if you can arrange with Ida to give me eight or nine or ten thousand pounds, so that I can have something to live on."

Towton hesitated at this bold offer. "I can't say anything about that; it is for Miss Dimsdale to decide."

"Colonel, if I chose, Ida would remain with me altogether, as she loves me."

"Say rather," said Towton, somewhat unjustly, "that you have a great influence over her, Miss Hest."

"And if I have," cried Frances, rising to the height of her tall figure, "has that influence been used for otherwise but good? Instead of misusing it, as I could, to keep Ida beside me and retain command of her money, I wish her to marry you and take her fortune entirely to yourself. All I ask is for a sum to save me from begging my bread in the street. Think of my position and do not be too hard on me, Colonel."

"I admit that you have some claim," said the Colonel politely; "and doubtless Miss Dimsdale will consent to your demand. But I can say nothing. It will be better to wait."

"Until when?"

"Until to-morrow. Then, with Ida, we can talk over the matter." Miss Hest's lip curled. "You are a strange man, Colonel. I offer you a pretty wife and a handsome fortune, yet you hesitate to do me justice."

"I see no justice in giving you ten thousand pounds," retorted Towton sharply.

"Well," said Frances, suppressing her rising anger, for she felt that she was acting generously and the Colonel churlishly, "perhaps justice is not quite the word which should be used. But you spoke now of my influence over Ida as being great, and you spoke truly. She is very fond of me, and I am perfectly well able to induce her to give up all idea of becoming your wife, and to get her to remain with me. Then I should handle the sum I ask for every year instead of only once, for Ida knows nothing of business."

"See here, Miss Hest," said Towton roundly, "I love Ida and I wish her to be my wife. But she shall accept me of her own free will and without being pressed in any way. Your influence can scarcely be so great as you think, since Ida declined both to marry Maunders or your brother, although--as you admit--you urged her to do so. I am coming to-morrow with Lady Corsoon and her daughter to see Ida, and I hope Miss Dimsdale will return with her aunt to this house----"

"Not if I can prevent it," said Frances, her colour rising as she hastily wrapped her cloak round her and moved towards the door. "Ida remains with me as a hostage until I get this money, to which I am entitled."

"I fail to see that."

"Because you have an ungenerous nature," she retorted. "Were I in possession of an unencumbered estate I should ask nothing. But, as it is, I must have money, and if you are wise you will buy this will and your wife with a sincere promise--I do not even ask for it to be in writing, so confident am I in your honour--to give me ten thousand pounds on the wedding-day."

But Towton was singularly obstinate. "Wait until to-morrow," he said dourly. "What Ida says I hold by."

"In that case I have the money," retorted Frances, and left the room promptly with a dry smile and a light step, fully satisfied that she had won.