The Mynns' Mystery Part 28

"No, sir, it would not. You understand; I want that money within a week, and the day I am married, fifteen days from this, I shall require another thousand."

"Certainly, Mr Harrington," said the old lawyer. "You have nothing more to say to me to-night?"

"No, sir, nothing. That's an end to business. Now we can be sociable and friendly. Will you have a little whiskey and a cigar?"

"No, sir, thanks. I had a busy day in town and shall be glad to get to bed. Good-night."

"Good-night, Mr Hampton, and I suppose you will not be sorry when our relations are always of a business character."

"For some reasons, no, Mr George Harrington--for some reasons, yes,"

said the old lawyer. "Good-night."

He left the study and began to ascend the stairs, but for some reason went down again and entered the dining-room, and in the dim light given by the turned-down lamp, the portrait of his own client seemed to be gazing down at him searchingly.

With a half shiver he went back, and again began to ascend, to feel the cool night air blowing in upon him from the open staircase window.

This he closed, but did not fasten, the clasp being too high, and the window far above the ground.

"I shall be glad when I am back home," he muttered. "What can he do with all this money? I should like to know. Who's that?"

He started and exclaimed aloud, for he had heard a rustling sound.

"Only me, sir. I was coming down to close that window."

"You startled me, Denton, going about like a ghost. Good-night."

"Good-night, sir."

Then first one door closed, then another, and one door opened, that of the study, from which the occupant's face appeared for a few moments with an intent listening air upon the stern features.

Then the door was closed again, the cabinet opened, and the cash-box taken from one of the drawers, over which the young man sat for quite half an hour, counting notes and calculating, before replacing the contents.

"I don't like to leave it here," he said thoughtfully. "It has been safe so far, but thieves might break through and steal, and that would be awkward. Let's think it out over a cigar."

He took the spirit-stand from the closet again, poured out a goodly portion of whiskey into a Venice gla.s.s, and after mildly lowering its strength with water, took a deep draught before lighting a choice cigar, whose pleasant perfume soon pervaded the room.

"Notes, notes. Gold so much better, but awkward to carry," he muttered, and then burst into an unpleasant laugh.

"Shall I--shan't I? Ten thousand safe, better than a hundred thousand doubtful, and who knows what Master Saul might do."

A strange silence fell upon the place--a silence which seemed painful, for as a rule the low hollow rumble of market-wagons echoed from the high brick wall of The Mynns the night through.

That silence was broken by the smoker's voice, as he said in a low, angry whisper:

"Saul Harrington is a coward and a cur. He dares nothing--nothing. A snarling dog who fears to bite. Why, if I had been in his place--

"Well, never mind," he said after a pause. "But about this money--a bird in the hand is worth too in the bush, even if one is Gertrude--a pretty little innocent. Yes, that will be the best plan after all."

He rose hastily, took a Bradshaw from the shelf, and rapidly turned over the leaves; but as he did so the lamp went out.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

THE MASTER IS LATE.

"Hadn't we better begin breakfast. Mr Hampton?" said Gertrude.

"Oh, don't hurry, my dear. Mr Hampton is not going to town by the early train. What a lovely morning! Perhaps he has gone for a walk."

The ladies walked to the window and Mr Hampton turned his newspaper and coughed loudly, as he glanced at the breakfast-table, afterwards making a wry face as he felt sundry twinges suggestive of Nature's demands for food.

A quarter of an hour slipped by, and then the old housekeeper, who kept to the same simple old fashion adopted by her late master, whose household had consisted of Denton, a housemaid, cook, and gardener, entered the dining-room.

"Shall I bring up the ham, Miss Gertrude?"

"Perhaps you had better go and knock at Mr Harrington's door. He may have dropped asleep again."

The old woman went out, and at the end of five minutes she came back, looking pale and scared.

"I--I can't make him hear, miss," she said. "Do you think he is ill?"

"Gone for a walk," said the old lawyer sharply.

"I--I don't think he has gone out, sir," faltered the old lady.

"Perhaps you wouldn't mind going up to his room."

"And be told to mind my own business--eh? Thanks; no."

He gave the newspaper a vicious shake, and a blow in the middle to double it up for a fresh reading.

"Shall I go up, Gertrude, my dear?" said Mrs Hampton.

"If you would not mind. He may, perhaps, be a little unwell."

"To be sure, my dear. I'll go."

The lawyer's wife left the room, and without a moment's hesitation walked along the pa.s.sage to the study, entered and looked round.

"Yes," she said to herself, as she took up the whiskey decanter, and held it at arm's length. "How temperate and self-denying we are.

Essence of sick headache, and he has drunk every drop."

To give colour to Mrs Hampton's theory, besides the empty condition of the decanter, a peculiar odour of spirits filled the room, causing the old lady's nostrils to dilate, and the corners of her lips to go down as she hurried out.

"And they hardly ever will open a window," she muttered, as she stood in the hall, hesitating. "But I said I would go up," she continued, and ascending quickly she paused before the door of the bedroom she sought.

"Mr Harrington!" she cried, as she gave a few sharp raps with her bony knuckles.

No answer.