Johnny Ludlow Third Series Part 89

"Yes, it was rather curious, the way it came to me: and perhaps on my part not altogether honourable. Early this morning, Johnny, before ten o'clock had struck, mamma made me go in and ask how Lady Jenkins was, and whether she would be able to come to-night. I ran in the nearest way, by the gla.s.s-doors, boisterously of course--mamma is always going on at me for that--and the breeze the doors made as I threw them open blew a piece of paper off the table. I stooped to pick it up, and saw it was a letter just begun in madame's handwriting."

"Well?"

"Well, my eyes fell on the few words written; but I declare that I read them heedlessly, not with any dishonourable intention; such a thought never entered my mind. 'Dear Sissy,' the letter began, 'You must not come yet, for Johnny Ludlow is here, of all people in the world; it would not do for you and him to meet.' That was all."

"I suppose madame had been called away," continued Charlotte, after a pause. "I put the paper on the table, and was going on into the pa.s.sage, when I found the room-door locked: so I just came out again, ran round to the front-door and went in that way. Now if you are not a bear, Johnny, why should you frighten people?"

I did not answer. She had set me thinking.

"Madame St. Vincent had invited a sister from France to come and stay with her: she does just as she likes here, you know. It must be she who is not allowed to meet you. What is the mystery?"

"Who is talking about mystery?" exclaimed Caroline Parker; who, standing near, must have caught the word. "What _is_ the mystery, Lotty?"

And Lotty, giving her some evasive reply, put down her fork and turned away.

LADY JENKINS.

MADAME.

I.

"If Aunt Jenkins were the shrewd woman she used to be, I'd lay the whole case before her, and have it out; but she is not," contended Dan Jenkins, tilting the tongs in his hand, as we sat round the dying embers of the surgery fire.

His brother Sam and I had walked home together from Mrs. Knox's soiree, and we overtook Dan in the town. Another soiree had been held in Lefford that night, which Dan had promised himself to before knowing Mrs. Knox would have one. We all three turned into the surgery. Dr. Knox was out with a patient, and Sam had to wait up for him. Sam had been telling his brother what we witnessed up at Rose Villa--the promenade round the laurels that Captain Collinson and Mina had stolen in the moonlight. As for me, though I heard what Sam said, and put in a confirming word here and there, I was thinking my own thoughts. In a small way, nothing had ever puzzled me much more than the letter Charlotte Knox had seen. Who was Madame St. Vincent? and who was her sister, that I, Johnny Ludlow, might not meet her?

"You see," continued Dan, "one reason why I can't help suspecting the fellow, is this--he does not address Mina openly. If he were honest and above board, he would go in for her before all the world. He wouldn't do it in secret."

"What do you suspect him of?" cried Sam.

"I don't know. I do suspect him--that he is somehow not on the square.

It's not altogether about Mina; but I have no confidence in the man."

Sam laughed. "Of course you have not, Dan. You want to keep Mina for yourself."

Dan pitched his soft hat at Sam's head, and let fall the tongs with a clatter.

"Collinson seems to be all right," I put in. "He is going up to London to a levee, and he is going to buy an estate. At least, he told me so to-night in the supper-room."

"Oh, in one sense of the word the fellow is all right," acknowledged Dan. "He is what he pretends to be; he is in the army list; and, for all I know to the contrary, he may have enough gold to float an argosy of ships. What I ask is, why he should go sneaking after Mina _when he does not care for her_."

"That may be just a fallacy of ours, Dan," said his brother.

"No, it's not. Collinson is in love with Madame St. Vincent; not with Mina."

"Then why does he spoon after Mina?"

"That's just it--why?"

"Any way, I don't think madame is in love with him, Dan. It was proposed that he should take aunt home to-night, and madame was as tart as you please over it, letting all the room know that she did not want him."

"Put it down so," agreed Dan, stooping to pick up the tongs. "Say that he is not fond of madame, but of Mina, and would like to make her his wife: why does he not go about it in a proper manner; court her openly, speak to her mother; instead of pursuing her covertly like a sneak?"

"It may be his way of courting."

"May it! It is anything but a right way. He is for ever seeking to meet her on the sly. I know it. He got her out in the garden to-night to a meeting, you say: you and Johnny Ludlow saw it."

"d.i.c.ky saw it too, and Charlotte got the truth out of him. There may be something in what you say, Dan."

"There's a great deal in what I say," contended Dan, his honest face full of earnestness. "Look here. Here's an officer and a gentleman; a rich man, as we are given to believe, and we've no reason to doubt it.

He seems to spend enough--Carter saw him lose five pounds last night, betting at billiards. If he is in love with a young lady, there's nothing to hinder a man like that from going in for her openly----"

"Except her age," struck in Sam. "He may think they'll refuse Mina to him on that score."

"Stuff! I wish you wouldn't interrupt me, Sam. Every day will help to remedy that--and he might undertake to wait a year or two. But I feel sure and certain he does not really care for Mina; I feel sure that, if he is seeking in this underhand way to get her to promise to marry him, he has some ulterior motive in view. My own belief is he would like to kidnap her."

Sam laughed. "You mean, kidnap her money?"

"Well, I don't see what else it can be. The fellow may have outrun the constable, and need some ready money to put him straight. Rely upon this much, Sam--that his habits are as fast as they can well be. I have been learning a little about him lately."

Sam made no answer. He began to look grave.

"Not at all the sort of man who ought to marry Mina, or any other tender young girl. He'd break her heart in a twelvemonth."

Sam spoke up. "I said to Johnny Ludlow, just now, that it might be better to tell Dr. Knox. Perhaps----"

"What about?" interrupted the doctor himself, pouncing in upon us, and catching the words as he opened the door. "What have you to tell Dr.

Knox about, Sam? And why are all you young men sitting up here? You'd be better in bed."

The last straw, you know, breaks the camel's back. Whether Sam would really have disclosed the matter to Dr. Knox, I can't say; the doctor's presence and the doctor's question decided it.

Sam spoke in a low tone, standing behind the drug-counter with the doctor, who had gone round to look at some entry in what they called the day-book, and had lighted a gas-burner to do it by. Dr. Knox made no remark of any kind while he listened, his eyes fixed on the book: one might have thought he did not hear, but his lips were compressed.

"If she were not so young, sir--a child, as may be said--I should not have presumed to speak," concluded Sam. "I don't know whether I have done wrong or right."

"Right," emphatically p.r.o.nounced the doctor.

But the word had hardly left his lips when there occurred a startling interruption. The outer door of the surgery, the one he had come in by, was violently drummed at, and then thrown open. Charlotte Knox, Miss Mack the governess, and Sally the maid--the same Sally who had been at Rose Villa when the trouble occurred about Janet Carey, and the same Miss Mack who had replaced Janet--came flocking in.

"d.i.c.ky's lost, Arnold," exclaimed Charlotte.

"d.i.c.ky lost!" repeated Dr. Knox. "How can he be lost at this time of night?"

"He _is_ lost. And we had nearly gone to bed without finding it out. The people had all left, and the doors were locked, when some one--Gerty, I think--began to complain of d.i.c.ky----"