The Hunt Ball Mystery Part 20

Kelson drew in a breath. "Yes, indeed. Poor Muriel has suffered from the suspicion as well as from the horrible shock of the discovery. Still, this new development, though it acquits her, does nothing towards solving the mystery. I wonder whether Edith Morriston has any idea as to how her dress got marked."

"I wonder," Gifford responded abstractedly.

"Well," said Kelson, "I'm off to carry the good news to Muriel. Don't wait dinner for me if I'm not back by seven-thirty."

It was rather a relief to Gifford to be left alone that he might review the situation without interruption. His first thought had been, could this last discovery be accountable for what he had seen that afternoon?

Doubtless, after the information reached the police it would not be long in being conveyed to Henshaw. And he was now making use of it to put the screw on, using the hold he had gained over Edith Morriston to bend her to his will. What was that? Marriage? To Gifford the thought was monstrous; yet if it should be that Henshaw had information which put the girl in his power, what could she do? That she had consented to meet him secretly and listen to him went to show that she felt her position to be weak. If so she might need help, an adviser, a man to stand between her and her persecutor.

Thinking out the situation strenuously Gifford determined to seek a private interview with Edith Morriston and offer himself as her protector. At the worst she could but snub him, and the chances were, he thought, greatly in favour of her accepting his offer of help. For from her character he judged she was not a girl to make a stronger appeal to him than the casual invoking of his a.s.sistance which had already taken place. He had a very cogent reason for believing that he could be of a.s.sistance, although there were certain elements in the mystery which might, in his ignorance of them, upset his calculations.

Anyhow in consideration of the trust Edith Morriston had shown in him he would seek an interview with her and chance what it might bring forth.

CHAPTER XVI

AN EXPLANATION

In pursuance of this plan Gifford proposed to his friend that they should call at Wynford Place on the next day. Kelson had returned from the Tredworths in high spirits, the news he carried there having lifted a weight off his fiancee's mind and indeed restored the happiness of the whole family. There was no cloud over the engagement now, and they could all look forward to the marriage without a qualm.

If Kelson might, in ordinary circ.u.mstances, have wondered at the motive for his friend's proposal, which was but thinly disguised, he was in too happy a state of preoccupation to trouble his head about it.

"I'm your man," he responded promptly. "It so happens that Muriel is lunching at Wynford to-morrow, so it will suit me well enough. I shouldn't be surprised if we get a note in the morning asking us to lunch there too."

The morning, however, brought no note of invitation; a failure which rather surprised Kelson, although Gifford thought he could account for it.

Nevertheless he determined to go and do his best to get a private talk with Edith Morriston, however disinclined she might be to grant it. The two men went up to Wynford early in the afternoon, but it was a long time before Gifford got the opportunity he sought. Edith Morriston seemed as friendly and gracious as ever, but whether by accident or design she gave no chance for Gifford to get in a private word. With the knowledge of what he had seen on the previous afternoon and of the change in her att.i.tude he was too shrewd to show any anxiety for a confidential talk.

He watched her closely when he could do so un.o.bserved, but her face gave no sign of trouble or embarra.s.sment. He wondered if there could after all be anything in his idea of persecution, and the more curious he became the more determined he grew to find out. But somehow Miss Morriston contrived that they should never be alone together; when Kelson and Muriel Tredworth strolled off lover-like, Miss Morriston kept her brother with her to make a third.

The three went round to the stables and inspected the hunters, then through the shrubbery to admire a wonderful bed of snowdrops. As they stood there looking over the undulating park, and Gifford, curbing his impatience, was talking of certain changes which had taken place since his early days there, the butler was seen hurrying towards them.

"Callers, I suppose," Morriston observed with a half-yawn. "What is it, Stent?"

"Could I speak to you, sir?" the man said, stopping short a little distance away.

Morriston went forward to him, and after they had spoken together he turned round, and with an "Excuse me for a few minutes," went off towards the house with the butler.

So at last the opportunity had come. Gifford glanced at his companion and noticed that her face had gone a shade paler than before the interruption.

"I wonder what can be the matter," she observed, a little anxiously Gifford thought. Then she laughed. "I dare say it is nothing; Stent is becoming absurdly fussy; and all the alarms and discoveries we have had lately have not diminished the tendency."

"The latest discovery must have come rather as a relief," Gifford ventured tentatively.

"The marks on my dress you mean?" She laughed. "So far that I now share with Muriel Tredworth the suspicion of knowing all about the tragedy."

"Hardly that," Gifford replied with a smile. "There can be no cause for that fear. By the way," he added more seriously, "I owe you an account of my failure to gain any information for you with regard to Mr. Gervase Henshaw's plans."

"He is not communicative?" Miss Morriston suggested casually.

Gifford shook his head. "No, I am never able to get hold of him. In fact, it seems as though he rather makes a point of avoiding us. And if we do meet, he is vagueness and reticence personified."

They were walking slowly back along the shrubbery path. The girl turned to him for an instant, her expression softened in a look of grat.i.tude.

"It is very kind of you, Mr. Gifford, to take all this trouble for us.

And I am sure it is not your fault that the result is not what you might wish. It was rather absurd of me to set you the task. But I am none the less grateful. Please think that, and do not bother about it any more."

"But if the man is likely to annoy you," he urged. "Have you longer any reason to fear him?"

She turned swiftly. "Fear him? What do you mean?"

"We thought he might be unscrupulous and might make himself objectionable."

She shrugged. "I dare say it is possible."

"I must confess," he pursued, "I can't quite make the fellow out. Nor his motive for remaining in the place. Your brother told me he came across him hanging about in one of your plantations."

He thought the blood left her face for an instant, but otherwise she showed no sign of discomposure.

"How did he account for his being there?" she asked calmly.

"Unsatisfactorily enough. I forget his actual excuse."

"Was that all?" she demanded coldly.

"I believe so. But it is hardly desirable, as your brother said, to have the man prowling about the property."

For a moment she was silent. "No," she said as though by an afterthought.

Her manner troubled him. "I hope he is not attempting to annoy you," he said searchingly.

She looked surprised and, he thought, a little resentful at his question.

"Me?" she returned coldly. "By hanging about in the plantation?"

"If he goes no farther than that--"

"Why should he?" she demanded in the same rather chilling tone.

"I don't know," Gifford replied, set back by her manner. "Except that I have no high opinion of the fellow. It occurred to me he might possibly attempt to persecute you."

She glanced round at him curiously with a little disdainful smile. "What makes you think he would do that?" she returned.

Her att.i.tude was to him not convincing. He felt there was a certain reservation beneath the rather cutting tone. "I am glad to know there is no question of that," he replied with quiet earnestness. "I hope if anything of the kind should occur and you should need a friend you will not overlook me."

"You are very kind," she responded, but without turning towards him. He thought, however, that her low tone had softened, and it gave him hope.

"I should scarcely take upon myself to suggest this," he said, "but I am emboldened by two facts. One that you have already asked me to be your ally, your friend, in this business, the other that there is something about Henshaw and his actions which I do not understand. I hope you will forgive my boldness."