Read Ebook: The Yellow Holly by Hume Fergus

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Ebook has 1347 lines and 45252 words, and 27 pages

"Did he recognize her?"

"I think he did, but he assured me that he could not be sure, and that he had not seen the lady again."

"Then he did know the face?"

"Oh, she'll turn up again," said Brendon, irritably. "Don't worry me about Lola. I wish you would marry her and take her back to your native land."

"What land am I native of, Mr. Brendon?" asked Bawdsey, calmly.

"America, I understand. You hinted as much when we met."

Bawdsey shook his head. "I am as English as you are," he declared.

"Well," said Brendon, with a shrug, "I thought as much. Your accent fails at times. You are not a good actor, Bawdsey."

"I may be a better actor than you think, Mr. Brendon."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Never you mind, sir. I can hold my tongue when it suits me, and on this occasion it does suit me. But remember, Mr. Brendon, that whatever happens you have a friend in me."

"What is going to happen?"

Bawdsey shook his head solemnly. "One never knows. We are not out of the wood yet, Mr. Brendon."

"Are you referring to my father's murder?"

"And to Mrs. Jersey's. I have my suspicions, and--well, there's nothing more to be said. When I am certain I shall let you know."

"You have your suspicions, then?"

"Yes. But I shall not impart them to any one--not even to you."

"One moment, Bawdsey," said Brendon, as the man had his hand on the door. "Do you suspect Miss Bull?"

"Why should I suspect her?" asked the detective, in surprise.

It struck George that Bawdsey was a most mysterious person and knew far more about the San Remo murder than Derrington could have told him. Still, it was possible that Derrington had unbosomed himself to Bawdsey, and it was necessary to do so if he wanted the murder of Mrs. Jersey cleared up. And Derrington, from his refusal to admit that he was at the house on the night and about the time the crime was committed, seemed to knew something that might lead to the detection of the assassin.

"Humph," said George to himself when alone, "I have a great mind to go round and see that old man. It seems to me that Bawdsey is trying to serve two masters. It is impossible that my grandfather can know the truth. Yet, going by his height and figure, and that sable claret-colored coat, he was certainly in the house on the night in question. But it's none of my business."

He sat down again to his work and tried to interest himself in the chapter he was writing. But it was all in vain. Bawdsey's speech and Bawdsey's manner, and a conviction that the man was playing his grandfather false, kept recurring to his mind. After an hour's futile work he threw down the pen in despair and went out to call on Derrington.

On arriving at St. Giles Square he saw a carriage at the door of the mansion. On asking for Lord Derrington, George was informed that his lordship was engaged with Mrs. Ward and could see no one. Brendon turned away, wondering that he had not recognized the carriage, and he was still more vexed with himself when Dorothy put her head out of the brougham and called to him.

"My dearest," he said softly, so that the coachman and footman might not hear, "this is an unexpected pleasure. Why are you not inside?"

"My mother wished to see Lord Derrington alone," replied Dorothy. "I am waiting till she comes out. She has been with him for half an hour. I don't know what they are talking about."

It was at this moment that a message was brought out of the house from Mrs. Ward saying that her daughter could drive home as she would not be disengaged for another hour. Dorothy looked puzzled. "I can't understand," she said; "there is something wrong with my mother. Lord Derrington came to see her one day and she has been upset ever since."

George shook his head. He suspected Mrs. Ward of knowing more than she chose to confess, and based his suspicions on the fact of the yellow holly which she had given to Dorothy to present to him. She had made her daughter a cat's-paw, but why she should wish to startle Mrs. Jersey with a reminder of the San Remo murder was a thing George could not understand. Meanwhile, he kept these suspicions to himself and made some excuse. "Oh, Mrs. Ward and my grandfather are probably talking over my iniquities," he said easily. "But I don't see why I should not take advantage of this chance."

"What do you mean, George?" asked Dorothy with a becoming blush.

"Well, here is the brougham, and here you are. Why shouldn't we drive around the Park before you go home?"

"My mother will be angry," said Dorothy, hesitating. Then she blushed again. "But I shall brave her anger. We have much to talk about, as I wish to speak of Lola Velez."

"No, no! But I want to ask you a few questions. I believe she is mad, George. Get in and we will drive round the Park."

The order was given, George seated himself beside his divinity, and they drove away for a pleasant hour. "You see Fate plays into our hands," said George, taking those of Dorothy in his own. And then the conversation became quite private and very, very confidential.

Meantime, Mrs. Ward was seated in a chair facing Lord Derrington. The old gentleman looked savage, but Mrs. Ward was quite at her ease. They had been having a war of words, and Mrs. Ward so far had come off best. The conversation had been in reference to the sentence whispered in the little woman's ear when he had made her promise to hold her tongue about George.

"Of course I do think it is the meanest thing a man can do," said Mrs. Ward, bitterly. "What if I did cheat at cards? Every woman does that, and I was losing no end of money."

"I don't think your friends would take that view," said Derrington, grimly. "I came to hear of the matter quite by chance, and it is plain that you won over a hundred pounds by cheating."

"No. If Mrs. Wayflete knows, she has held her tongue. I learned it from a source of which you are ignorant. But the fact remains, you cheated, and if your friends knew it you would be ostracized by all of them."

"As if they did not do these things themselves," retorted Mrs. Ward; "but since you have been so nasty, I intend to be nasty, too."

"I shouldn't advise you to be nasty to me, Mrs. Ward. I have a large reserve fund of strength."

"You'll need it all to hold your own against me." Lord Derrington nodded. "I quite admit that you are a dangerous woman," he said quietly.

"Well, and in what way have you made up your mind to be nasty?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"I mean this," cried the little woman, growing angry all at once. "I am not going to be threatened about that unfortunate episode connected with the cards--it was that horrid Mrs. Wayflete who told you, so don't deny it--I am not going to be threatened without holding my own. Besides, I want Dorothy to marry your grandson."

"Which one?" asked Derrington, coolly.

"You have only Walter Vane."

"Excuse me, George Brendon, whether there is a marriage or not, is equally my grandson."

"I believe you admire him."

"Very much, and it is in my mind to acknowledge him as my heir."

"I thought as much after your sticking up for him the other day," said Mrs. Ward, furiously. "Now, look here, Lord Derrington. If Dorothy marries that Brendon creature I won't be able to do a thing with her--you know quite well I won't."

"That means you won't be able to handle my money through George after I am dead," said Derrington, grimly.

"You can put it that way if you like. But Walter shall be Dorothy's husband, I have made up my mind."

"Because he's a fool and putty in your hands."

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