Cursed by a Fortune Part 49

"Look here, James Wilton," said Garstang, looking at him curiously; "have you come here to insult me with your suspicions? If this young lady has left your roof, do you suppose I have had anything to do with it?"

"Yes, I do, and a great deal," cried Wilton, angrily. "You can't hoodwink me, even if you can net me and fleece me. Do you think I am blind?"

"In some things, very," said Garstang, contemptuously--

"Then I'm not in this. I see through your plans clearly enough, but you are checked. Where is that boy of yours?"

"I have no boy," said Garstang, contemptuously.

"Well, then, where is your stepson?"

"I do not know, James Wilton. Harry Dasent has long enough ago taken, as your son here would say, the bit in his teeth. I have not seen him since he came down to your place. But surely," he cried, springing up excitedly, "you do not think--"

"Yes, I do think, sir," cried Wilton, rising too; "I am sure that young scoundrel has carried her off. He has been hanging about my place all he could since she has been there, and paying all the court he could to her, and you know it as well as I do, the scoundrel has persuaded her that she was ill-used, and lured her away."

"By Jove!" said Garstang, softly, as he stood looking thoughtfully at the carpet, and apparently hardly hearing a word in his stupefaction at this announcement,

"Do you hear what I say, sir?" cried Wilton, fiercely, for he was now thoroughly angry; "do you hear me?"

"Yes, yes, of course," cried Garstang, making an effort as if to rouse himself. "Well, and if it is as you suspect, what then? Reckless as he is, Harry Dasent would make her as good a husband as Claud Wilton, and a better, for he is not related to her by blood."

"You dare to tell me that!" thundered Wilton.

"Yes, of course," said Garstang, coolly. "Why not?"

"Then you do know of it; you are at the bottom of it all; you have helped him to carry her off."

"I swear I have not," said Garstang, quietly. "I would not have done such a thing, for the poor girl's sake. It may be possible, just as likely as for your boy here, to try and win the girl and her fortune, but I swear solemnly that I have not helped him in any way."

"Then you tell me as a man--as a gentleman, that you did not know he had got her away?"

"I tell you as a man, as a gentleman, that I did not know he had got her away. What is more, I tell you I do not believe it. Tell me more. How and when did she leave? When did you miss her?"

"Night before last--no, no, I mean the next morning after you had left.

She had gone in the night."

Garstang's hand shot out, and he caught Wilton by the shoulder with a fierce grip, while his lip quivered and his face twitched, as he gazed at him with a face full of horror.

"James Wilton," he said, in a husky voice, "you jump at this conclusion, but did anyone see them go?"

"No: no one."

"You don't think--"

"Think what, man? What has come to you?"

"She was in terrible trouble, suffering and hysterical, when she went up to her room," continued Garstang, with his voice sinking almost to a whisper, and with as fine a piece of acting as could have been seen off the stage. "Is it possible that, in her trouble and despair, she left the house, and--"

He ceased speaking, and stood with his lips apart, staring at his visitor, who changed colour and rapidly calmed down.

"No, no," he said, and stopped to dear his voice. "Impossible! Absurd!

I know what you mean; but no, no. A young girl wouldn't go and do that just because her cousin kissed her."

"But she has been ill, and she was very weak and sensitive."

"Oh, yes, and the doctor put her right. No, no. She wouldn't do that,"

said Wilton, hastily. "It's as I say. Come, Claud, my lad, we can do no good here, it seems. Let's be moving. Morning, John Garstang; I am going to get help. I mean to run her down."

"You should know her best, James Wilton, and perhaps my judgment has been too hasty. Yes, I think I agree with you: so sweet, pure-minded, and well-balanced a girl would never seek refuge in so horrible a way.

We may learn that she is with some distant relative after all."

"Perhaps so," said Wilton hastily. "Come, Claud, my lad," and he walked straight out, without glancing to right or left, and remained silent till they were crossing Russell Square.

"I say, guv'nor," said Claud, who pa.s.sed his tongue over his lips before speaking, as if they were dry, "you don't think that, do you? It's what the mater said."

"No, no, impossible. Of course not. She couldn't. I think, though, we may as well get back," and for the moment he forgot all about the ladder planted against the sill.

And as they walked on they were profoundly unconscious of the fact that Garstang's grave elderly clerk was following them at a little distance, and looking in every other direction, his employer having hurried him out with the words:

"See where they go."

John Garstang then seated himself before the good fire in his private room, and began to think of the interview he had just had, while as he thought he smiled.

CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT.

Kate gave way most unwillingly, but felt obliged to yield to what she felt was a common-sense view of the question.

"If you write now we shall be having endless trouble," said Garstang.

"Your uncle will come here, and I shall be compelled to give you up."

"But I would refuse to go," said Kate, with spirit.

Garstang smiled, and shrugged his shoulders.

"Will you give me credit, as an old lawyer, my dear child, for knowing a little of the law?"

"Of course," she cried.

"Well, let me tell you that if James Wilton finds out where you are, I foresee endless troubles. You know his projects?"

Kate nodded quickly.

"To compa.s.s those plans, he will stop at nothing, even force. But supposing I defeat him in that, for I tell you frankly I should make every effort, he would set the law to work. If I get the best counsel I can, we shall have a long, wearisome lawsuit, and probably your late father's estate will be thrown into Chancery. You will become a ward of the Lord Chancellor, and the inroads made upon your fortune will be frightful."

"I don't think I should care," said Kate, looking at him wistfully, "so long as I could be at peace."

"Have you thought out any relative or friend whom you feel that you can trust, and to whom you would like to go?"