Only One Love, or Who Was the Heir Part 29

Leonard Dagle was Jack's old chum; friends he had in plenty--dangerous friends many of them--but Leonard was his brother and companion in arms.

They had shared the same rooms, the same tankard of bitter, sometimes the same crust, for years.

There was not a secret between them. Either would have given the other his last penny and felt grateful for the acceptance of it. It was a singular friendship, for no two men could be more unlike than Leonard Dagle, the hard-working barrister, and Jack Newcombe, the spendthrift, the ne'er-do-well, and--the Savage.

"Is that you, Jack?" exclaimed Leonard, straightening his back. "Home already?"

"Yes, I'm back."

"What's the matter--tired?"

"Tired--bored--humbled--thoroughly used up! I've got news for you, Len."

"Bad or good?"

"Bad as they can be. First the squire's dead!"

"Dead?"

"Yes, dead and buried. Poor old fellow!"

"I am very sorry. Then you--then you--am I addressing the Squire of Hurst Leigh?"

"You are addressing the pauper of Spider Court."

"Jack, what do you mean?"

"I mean that the poor old fellow has died and left me nothing--not even a mourning-ring."

"I'm very sorry. Left you nothing, my dear old man!"

"Don't pity me. I can't stand that. Say serves you right, say anything.

After all, what did I deserve?"

"But you expected something," said Leonard.

"Yes, and no. I expected nothing till I got there, and then did. I saw him for a few minutes before he died, and he said--certainly said--that I--well, that there would be something for me."

"And there is nothing."

"Not a stiver. Mind I don't complain, Len. I didn't deserve it."

"Where has it all gone? He was a rich man, was he not?" asked Leonard.

"Rich as a Croesus," replied Jack, "and it has all gone to Stephen Davenant."

"That is the man that goes in for philanthropy and all that sort of thing."

"That's the man," replied Jack.

"Tell me all about it," said Leonard, after a long pause.

And, with many pauses, Jack told his story.

Leonard Dagle listened intently.

"It's a strange story, Jack," he said. "I--I--it rather puzzles me.

There could be--of course, there could be nothing wrong."

"Wrong, how do you mean?" exclaimed Jack.

"Well, Stephen Davenant's conduct is rather peculiar--isn't it?"

"Oh, he's half out of his mind," said Jack, carelessly. "He has been playing a close game for the money, and hanging about the old man till he has got as hysterical as a girl. What do you think could be wrong?

Everything was as correct as it could be--family lawyer, who made out the will, and all the rest of it."

"Then you think the squire was wandering in his mind at last?"

"That's it," said Jack. "He wanted to provide for me--to leave me something, and he fancied he'd done it. It's often the case, isn't it?"

"I've met with such cases," said Leonard.

"Just so," said Jack. "Is there anything to drink?" he asked, abruptly, as if he wanted to change the subject.

"There's some whiskey----"

Jack mixed himself a tumbler and sat on the edge of the table, and Leonard Dagle leaned back and watched him.

"There's something else, Jack," he said. "Out with it; what is it?"

"What a fellow you are, Len. You are like one of those mesmeric men; there's no keeping anything from you. Well, I've had an adventure."

"An adventure?"

"Yes, I'm half under the impression that it's nothing but a dream. Len, I've seen the most beautiful--the most--Len, do you believe in witches?

Not the old sort, but the young ones--sirens, didn't they call them; who used to haunt the woods and forests and tempt travelers into quagmires and ditches. The innocent-looking kind of sirens, you know. Well, I've seen one!"

"Jack, you've been drinking; put that gla.s.s down."

"Have I? Then I haven't. Look here," and he told the story of his wanderings in Warden, and all it had led up to.

"How's that for an adventure?" he said, when he had finished.

"It would do for a mediaeval romance. And she has gone, you say?"

"Clean gone," said Jack, with a sigh and a long pull at the tumbler.

"Gone like a--a dream, you know. How is that for an adventure? You don't believe in them, though."

Leonard Dagle looked up, and there was a strange, half-shy expression in his face.