Witness to the Deed Part 24

"He has not come back yet from the trial," Brettison said.

"Indeed! I looked round the court, but could not see him there. You have heard, of course?"

"The verdict? Yes, I was there."

The two men looked inquiringly into each others' eyes, and just then a step was heard upon the stairs.

"Here he is," whispered Guest, and the next minute, looking very calm and self-possessed, Stratton joined them, and asked them in; but Brettison declined, and went back to his own chambers, while Guest followed his friend into his room, thinking, as he entered the quiet, retired place, of how his coming had changed the current of Stratton's career.

"Sit down, old fellow," said Stratton cheerfully, and he opened the closet by the fireplace to reach down a box of cigars, which he handed to Guest, and then took one himself.

"Now for it," thought Guest as Stratton sat back, looking pale still and thin from his illness; but he only went on smoking, apparently waiting for his friend to speak.

"And I don't know what to say," thought Guest.

He was relieved from his embarra.s.sment at last by Stratton beginning to talk about one of the current topics of the day, and he left the chambers at last without there having been the slightest reference to the trial.

Guest found his way to Bourne Square the next afternoon, and was startled to find all the shutters closed and the blinds drawn in the upper rooms.

"Out of town" seemed written plainly all over the house, for that nothing serious was the matter was evident from a friendly chat going on at the area gate between two maids, who had dispensed with the hated headgear of slavery--caps--and were laughing with a rustic looking young milkman.

Guest took a cab and drove to Miss Jerrold's, in Bayswater, to find that lady at home and ready to welcome him.

"Gone, my dear boy," she said. "Gone to Rome first, and the best thing too. Ugh! I never liked that man, Percy Guest. He looked like silver, but I could feel that he was only electro-plate. Well, poor Myra had a terrible escape. It was, of course, her money, and he looked for some of mine."

"But when are they coming back, Miss Jerrold?"

"Oh, not for a long time, I hope. It will be the best thing in the world for poor Myra, and I have been thinking that I shall go and join them soon. Not till they have all had time to calm down. There is nothing to mind till then."

She said these last words so meaningly that Guest gave her an inquiring look, and the old lady smiled.

"You want to know why I said that," she said, "Well, I'll tell you, Percy Guest. Old women can speak pretty plainly, and I can trust you to be discreet. The fact is, my brother is one of the best men that ever breathed, and at sea he had few officers who were his equal, but on sh.o.r.e he is one of those men whom any clever, designing scoundrel could impose upon, and if I don't go to them and play the dragon of watchfulness we shall be having a foreign count without a penny, or some other dreadful swindler, hoodwinking him till there is another engagement, and poor Myra driven half-mad."

"What, after such a lesson as this has been, Miss Jerrold?"

"Of course. Poor Mark will think the best thing for Myra to do will be to marry, so as to get rid of the ambiguous position in which she is placed. Wife to a convict serving his time. Poor child, it gives me a shudder every time I think of it. There, I will not think of it any more. I've made my mind up, and I shall go."

"I would," said Guest eagerly.

"Eh? And pray why, sir?" cried the old lady sharply.

"I thought it would be better," said Guest confusedly.

"For someone we know, eh? No, no, sir. That's all over now. Some people had better treat their lives as schoolboys do their slates: sponge them neatly, make them clean, and begin all over again."

CHAPTER SIXTEEN.

"I SHALL HAVE TO GO."

A year pa.s.sed rapidly away, during which time Guest's visits were pretty constant to Benchers' Inn, or to that inst.i.tution where the new curator seemed to have thrown himself with so much spirit into his work that Guest often came to the conclusion that he must have treated his past after the fashion suggested by the admiral's sister. For there were no friendly confidences, and it was only a supposition that Stratton might be well informed as to the doings of the family abroad.

At last one morning, after being expectant and on thorns for weeks, Guest made his way to Bayswater, sending the cabman by a circuitous route, so as to pa.s.s through Bourne Square.

The family had not returned, but there were painters at work; and excited by this, he rang at Miss Jerrold's, was shown up, and as soon as he had shaken hands the old lady tightened her lips and shook her head at him.

"All my good advice thrown away, boy," she said. "Now no deceit; you've heard news?"

"Indeed, no," he cried. "I only came through the square."

"On purpose?"

"Well, yes, and saw that there were men at work painting."

"Pooh!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Miss Jerrold. "That may mean my brother is going to let the house."

"But Sir Mark is not going to let the house, Miss Jerrold?"

"Of course not. Yes; you are right: they will be back in about a week."

"In a week?" cried Guest joyously.

"Yes. I wanted to see you, though. How about your friend, Mr Stratton: he has forgotten all that mad nonsense, I suppose?"

Guest was silent for a few moments while the old lady looked at him inquiringly.

"You do not know Malcolm Stratton as I do," he said sadly. "He has never mentioned Miss Myra Jerrold's name--"

"Mrs Dale's or Barron's," said the lady sternly, but Guest shook his head.

"Since the wedding day, but if I know anything of my friend she has never since been out of his thoughts."

The tears started to Miss Jerrold's eyes.

"Poor boy," she said sadly. "But he must not think of her. My brother had certain thoughts about getting the marriage cancelled, but Myra will not hear of it."

"Surely she does not care for this man?"

"I don't know, my dear boy. She is a mystery to me. I tried to talk to her several times when I was near, but she closed my lips at once. I am n.o.body now. I can pretty well manage her father, but--who in the world can this be?" she cried hastily. "I'm not at home."

She rose to ring the bell, but there were steps already on the stairs, and the servant, looking a little startled, opened the door.

"Mr Stratton, ma'am. He says--"

Stratton was already at the door, looking pale, but with a red spot burning in each cheek.

"You here, Guest!" he said excitedly. "Miss Jerrold, pray ask your niece to see me, if only for a minute."