Love and hatred Part 28

The stable clock struck ten. And Laura suddenly heard the sound of firm steps hurrying down the pa.s.sage. She got off the sofa, expecting to see the now disagreeably familiar blue uniform and flat blue cap of the Pewsbury Police Inspector. He came up to see her almost every day, but he had never come quite so early as this morning.

She gathered herself together to answer with calm civility his tiresome, futile questions. There was nothing--_nothing_--she could say that she had not said already as to G.o.dfrey's usual habits, and as to his probable business interests outside Pewsbury. The Inspector had been surprised, though he had tried to hide the fact, to find that Mrs.

Pavely knew so very little of her husband's business interests and concerns. The last two times he had been there Katty had been present, and she had been very useful--useful and tactful. Laura, feeling rather ashamed of her late uncharitable thoughts concerning Katty, wished that Katty could be present at the coming interview, but unfortunately Katty was still in bed.

The door opened, and she stood up expectantly.

It was only Preston, the butler. There was a large envelope on the salver he held in his hand.

"It's from the Bank, ma'am. Marked 'Urgent,'" he said.

"Is there an answer?" she asked.

And he hesitated. "We have kept the messenger, ma'am."

Laura knew Mr. Privet's small, neat handwriting--if he marked an envelope "Urgent," then it was urgent.

There were two enclosures--a note and a letter.

She first read the note:--

"DEAR MRS. PAVELY,

"I found the enclosed on my arrival at the Bank this morning. It may be important, so I send it on at once.

"And let me take this opportunity, dear Madam, of a.s.suring you of my very sincere sympathy. I, too, have known during the last few days what it was to feel that hope deferred maketh the heart sick.

"Yours respectfully, "DAVID PRIVET."

She turned, with only languid interest, to the envelope. The address was typewritten:--

MRS. G. PAVELY, c/o MESSRS. PAVELY & CO., BANKERS, PEWSBURY.

It was marked "Private," "Immediate," but that, as Laura well knew, meant very little. A certain number of times, perhaps half a dozen times in all, during her married life, some unfortunate, humble client of her husband's had written to her a personal appeal. Each of these letters had been of a painful and disagreeable nature, often couched in pitiful, eloquent terms, and G.o.dfrey had not allowed her to answer any one of them save in the most formal, cold way.

This typewritten envelope looked as if it might have come from some distressed tradesman. So she opened the envelope reluctantly, not taking heed, as a different type of woman would have done, to the postmark on it. Indeed, without thinking of what she was doing, she threw the envelope mechanically into the burning fire, and then opened out the large sheet of thin paper.

But, as she looked down at the lines of typewriting, she stiffened into instant, palpitating, horrified attention, for this is what she saw there:

"MADAME,--It is with the deepest regret that I acquaint you with the fact that your esteemed husband, Mr. G.o.dfrey Pavely, of Messrs. Pavely & Co., Bankers, of Pewsbury, Wiltshire, is dead.

"If you will instruct the police to go to Duke House, Piccadilly, and proceed to Room 18 on the top floor--the only office which is at present let--they will find there Mr. Pavely's body.

"I am connected with important business interests in Portugal, and for some time I have been in business relations with Mr. Pavely. This fact you will easily confirm by searching among his papers. I am also, of course, well known at Duke House, for I have had an office there for a considerable number of weeks.

"The tragedy--for a tragedy it is from my point of view as well as from that of Mr. Pavely's unfortunate family--fell out in this wise.

"Mr. Pavely came to see me (by appointment) on the Thursday before last. There was a pistol lying on my desk. I foolishly took it up and began playing with it. I was standing just behind Mr. Pavely when suddenly the trigger went off, and to my intense horror the unfortunate man received the charge. I thought--I hoped--that he was only wounded, but all too soon I saw that he was undoubtedly dead--dead by my hand.

"I at first intended, and perhaps I should have been wise in carrying out my first intention, to call in the police--but very urgent business was requiring my presence in Lisbon.

Also I remembered that I had no one who could, in England, vouch for my respectability, though you will be further able to judge of the truth of my story by going to the Mayfair Hotel, where I have sometimes stayed, and by making inquiries of the agent from whom I took the office in Duke House.

"My relations with Mr. Pavely were slight, but entirely friendly, even cordial, and what has happened is a very terrible misfortune for me.

"I came to England in order to raise a loan for a big and important business enterprise. Some French banking friends introduced me to Mr. Pavely, and I soon entered on good relations with him. Our business was on the point of completion, and in a sense mutually agreeable to us, when what I may style our fatal interview took place.

"Yours with respectful sympathy, "FERNANDO APRA."

Laura sat down on the sofa. For the first time in her life she felt faint and giddy, and during the few moments that followed the reading of the extraordinary letter she still held in her hand, it was, oddly enough, her peculiar physical state which most absorbed her astonished and anguished mind.

Then her brain gradually cleared. G.o.dfrey--dead? The thought was horrible--horrible! It made her feel like a murderess. She remembered, with a sensation of terrible self-rebuke and shame, the feeling of almost hatred she had so often allowed herself to feel for her husband.

And then, before she had had time to gather her mind together sufficiently to face the immediate problem as to how she was to deal with this sinister letter, the door again opened, and Katty Winslow came into the room.

Katty looked ill as well as worried. There were dark circles round her eyes.

"Laura! Whatever is the matter? Have you heard anything? Have you news of G.o.dfrey?"

"I have just had this. Oh, Katty, prepare for bad news!"

But Katty hardly heard the words. She s.n.a.t.c.hed the tough, thin sheet of paper out of Laura's hand, and going across to the window she began reading, her back turned to Laura and the room.

For what seemed a long time she said nothing. Then, at last, she moved slowly round. "Well," she said stonily, "what are you going to do about it? If I were you, Laura, I shouldn't let that stupid Pewsbury inspector see this letter. I should go straight up to London with it." She glanced at the clock. "We've time to take the 11.20 train--if you hurry!"

She felt as if she would like to shake Laura--Laura, standing helplessly there, looking at her, mute anguish--yes, real anguish, in her deep, luminous blue eyes.

"If I were you," repeated Katty in a hoa.r.s.e, urgent tone, "I should go straight with this letter to Scotland Yard. It's much too serious to fiddle about with here! We want to know at once whether what this man says is true or false--and that's the only way you can find out."

"Then you wouldn't tell anybody here?" asked Laura uncertainly.

"No. If I were you I shouldn't tell any one but the London police. It may be a stupid, cruel hoax."

Deep in her heart Katty had at once believed the awful, incredible story contained in the letter she still held in her hand, for she, of course, was familiar with the name of Fernando Apra, and knew that the man's account of himself was substantially true.

But even so, she hoped against hope that it was, as she had just said, a stupid, cruel hoax--the work perchance of some spiteful clerk of this Portuguese company promoter, with whose schemes both she and G.o.dfrey had been so taken--so, so fascinated.

"Of course I'll go to town with you," she said rapidly. "Let's go up _now_, and dress at once. I'll order the car."

There was a kind of driving power in Katty. Her face was now very pale, as if all the pretty colour was drained out of it. But she was quite calm, quite collected. She seemed to feel none of the bewildered oppression which Laura felt, but that, so the other reminded herself, was natural. Katty, after all, was not G.o.dfrey's wife, or--or was it widow?

The two went upstairs, and Katty came in and helped Laura to dress. "It will only make a fuss and delay if you ring for your maid." She even found, and insisted on Laura putting on, a big warm fur coat which she had not yet had out this winter.

"You'd better just tell the servants here that you think there may be a clue. It's no good making too great a mystery. They can send on some message of the sort to the Bank; also, if you like, to Mrs. Tropenell."

A few moments later Laura found herself in the car, and the two were being driven quickly to Pewsbury station.

"Shall I wire to Oliver Tropenell that we are coming?" asked Katty suddenly.