Adrien Leroy Part 41

"Sir," he said gently, "I really do not see why this scene should continue. If any explanations are necessary, Mr. Vermont shall give them to me."

Vermont turned away with a scornful laugh, but Shelton grasped his arm.

"One minute," he said, "before you sneak away."

"Keep your hands off me, you moneyed fool," cried Vermont, wrenching himself free from the other's grasp. "I know nothing about this City business, you must apply to Harker himself. It is your name that is forged, not mine--though I suppose you want to screen the real criminal and fix on me as a scapegoat."

Shelton was about to retort, but Adrien intervened.

"Tell me one thing," he said quietly. "What has been your motive for all this? I cannot believe that gain was your sole object. What harm have I ever wrought you, Jasper? Something else must have inspired your conduct. I ask you to give me the reason."

There was a dead silence as the gentle words were spoken. Jasper raised his eyes to the pale face of the man he had so basely betrayed, and bit his bloodless lips in dogged silence.

At this moment a commotion was heard at the lower end of the terrace.

Some of the servants were trying to prevent the approach of a man, who was striving to get nearer to the little group. But he was too strong for them; with a bound he had freed himself from their restraining arms, and sprang forward, as if about to strike at Adrien. But Shelton thrust himself forward and bore him back.

"Who is this? Are we to have all the sc.u.m of the earth in here? Do you know this man, Leroy?" he asked hotly.

"Yes, I do," answered his friend in the low, restraining tones so habitual to him.

"Yes, I should just think you do!" exclaimed the man, struggling to push past Mortimer's outstretched arm. It isn't likely as you'll forget Johann Wilfer, Adrien Leroy, nor me you either."

"This is too much!" cried Shelton, now thoroughly enraged at this fresh interruption, and again he made as if to thrust the man away.

"Stop," said Adrien, glancing almost sadly at Constance, who smiled lovingly back. "Let him speak, since he is here. Come, sir, why have you forced your way in like this? What do you want of me?"

"What I asked a month ago," replied Wilfer. "I want my niece, Jessica. I want her, an' I'm agoin' to have her, so you'd better own up where she is."

Adrien turned to the others, who were standing silent in their astonishment.

"This man," said Leroy, "has a fancied grievance against me; I know nothing of where this girl is, or what has become of her."

"That's false!" retorted Wilfer. "He does know where the girl is; he took her from her home, and she hasn't been seen since."

Lord Barminster glanced at him coldly.

"My good man," he said, "you heard what my son said just. You had better make inquiries of the police. Mr. Leroy has not seen your niece."

"That is not quite true," put in Adrien gently, "I have seen her."

Lady Constance raised her pale face, and looked at him with startled but trusting eyes.

"P'raps you'll say you didn't take her to your rooms next," said Wilfer.

"I don't deny it," replied Adrien calmly. "I found her on a doorstep, starving with hunger, fleeing from a drunken uncle, as she said. There was nowhere else to take her, being late at night; so I took her to my chambers and fed her, then gave her into the charge of Norgate and the housekeeper until morning, when I learned that she had disappeared. That is all I can tell you about her; for I have not seen her since."

"But I have," came a voice--a woman's voice--behind them, "and I have brought her here."

The little company turned round, and Adrien started as his eyes fell upon the three new-comers.

"Ada," he cried. "What is the meaning of this intrusion?"

"No intrusion this time, Mr. Leroy," she said firmly. "I am here by your father's own invitation."

Jasper, who during Wilfer's outburst had made no effort to go away, now, at the sight of Miss Lester--who looked around her triumphantly, for this was just the kind of scene she enjoyed--made an effort to slip past; but he was held prisoner by Shelton.

"Quite right, Miss Lester," said Lord Barminster, courteously. "Perhaps you will tell us what you know of the young lady." He glanced kindly at the shrinking figure of Jessica, who stood with adoring eyes fixed on Adrien.

"Well, I ought to know something of her," was that lady's retort. "I'm her aunt. I paid that man"--pointing at Wilfer--"to look after her, and a nice way he's done it, turning her out to starve, while he got drunk on my money. You get off," she turned on the astounded Johann, "and don't you let me hear any of your complaints, or I'll have something to tell the police."

At the sound of the hated word "police," Wilfer turned, and mumbling some incoherent words, slunk away. His game was up, and seeing him vanquished, Miss Lester now took the centre of the stage, as it were, and turned her attention on the scowling Jasper.

"You waste your breath with that skunk," she exclaimed, pointing a bejewelled finger at him. "He's too tough a fox for you gentlemen. I'm one of his own sort, and I'll show you what he's made of. Jasper, my fine friend, you sold me as well as Mr. Leroy there, and I'm going to cut up a bit rougher than what he has." She turned to Adrien, who had been standing bewildered by this fresh interruption. "You want to know what his little game is? Well, I'll tell you. He wanted your money first; then, having ruined you and put you out of the running, he meant to have a try for your sweetheart."

Adrien turned on her almost fiercely, and glanced at Constance, who motioned him to be silent.

"That surprises you, does it?" continued Ada. "Some of you ladies and gentlemen are as blind as bats. I could see his little game months ago.

That was his object; and he didn't care what he did to gain it. But he went a bit too far when he tried to do me!"

She turned to Jessica, and, laying her hand on the girl's shoulder, drew her forward.

"You want to know who this is? Well, it's just as I said before. She's my niece. I don't think anybody, looking at the two of us, will deny the relationship, either. She takes after her mother. And now you want to know who her father is?"

Again she paused to heighten the effect of her words; but before an answer could be given, a girl's cry of horror rang out, and Jessica suddenly flung herself in front of Adrien. Jasper Vermont, for the first time catching sight of Harker, and realising at last that the game was up, indeed, had made a sudden movement, once more wrenching himself free from Shelton. Something glittered in his hand; then came a flash, a report, and with that one scream of agony, the lifeless form of Jessica fell into Adrien's arms.

In an instant, all was in confusion. Jasper Vermont, with a mocking laugh, had sprung over the stone bal.u.s.trade, and was running across the turf in the direction of the stream which, lower down, spanned the race-course, and, even at this time of the year, was almost a foaming torrent. Attracted by the sound of the shot, the servants had approached, and now set off in hot pursuit.

But Jasper Vermont was fleet of foot, and when he had gained the top of the rising ground he turned for one second to laugh again. But the laugh died on his lips, as a voice--audible even above all the hubbub and confusion--the shrill voice of Ada Lester, screamed:

"You villain. You have murdered your own child!"

Those who were in pursuit saw him suddenly stagger, as he realised that the girl, whose ident.i.ty he had that day learnt for the first time, had received the bullet he had intended for Adrien Leroy.

With a short, sharp cry, like that of a wounded animal, he missed his footing, fell backwards into the stream, which at this point was both wide and deep, and was carried away; drowning before the very eyes of the man who had so loved and trusted him, and whom he had so bitterly wronged.

CHAPTER XXVI

The suddenness of the tragedy which had taken place postponed all further discussion.

The sunlight, streaming through the latticed windows of one of the rooms in the Castle, shed its rays on the still form of the young girl, who had given her life for the man she loved so well.

Beside the bed knelt Adrien Leroy, his face buried in one hand, the other resting upon the still one that lay, white as marble, on the silken coverlet. He had come, overwhelmed with pain, from the scene on the terrace, to pour forth a pa.s.sionate grief and remorse over this young life that had been so generously given up to save his.

It mattered nothing to him that the dead girl was the daughter of the man whom he had befriended, and who had used his generosity only as a means by which to betray him; it mattered nothing that his grief might even now be misconstrued by the tongues of the uncharitable. He knelt in the deepest humility by the dead girl's side, deeming his life all unworthy to have been saved at such a cost; and while he implored the pardon of the great Creator for the follies of his past life he called on the Almighty to hear the vows which he now made--that for the future his steps would be in wiser paths.