Elster's Folly Part 23

It did appear to be all, just as it did in the matter of the other man.

The coroner inquired whether he had seen any one else on the banks or near them, and Pike replied that he had not set eyes on another soul, which Percival knew to be false, for he had seen _him_. He was told to put his signature to his evidence, which the clerk had taken down, and affixed a cross.

"Can't you write?" asked the coroner.

Pike shook his head negatively. "Never learnt," he curtly said. And Percival believed that to be an untruth equally with the other. He could not help thinking that the avowal of their immediate return might also be false: it was just as possible that one or other, or both, had followed the course of the boat.

Mr. Carteret was examined. He could tell no more than he had already told. They started together, but he had soon got beyond his lords.h.i.+p, and had never seen him again alive. There was nothing more to be gleaned or gathered. Not the smallest suspicion of foul play, or of its being anything but a most unfortunate accident, was entertained for a moment by any one who heard the evidence, and the verdict of the jury was to that effect: Accidental Death.

As the crowd pressed out of the inquest-room, jostling one another in the gloom of the evening, and went their several ways, Lord Hartledon found himself close to Gorton, his coat flapping as he walked. The man was looking round for Pike: but Mr. Pike, the instant his forced evidence was given, had slunk away from the gaze of his fellow-men to ensconce himself in his solitary shed. To all appearance Lord Hartledon had overtaken Gorton by accident: the man turned aside in obedience to a signal, and halted. They could not see much of each other's faces in the twilight.

"I wish to ask you a question," said Percival in low, impressive, and not unkindly tones. "Did you speak with my brother, Lord Hartledon, at all on Tuesday?"

"No, my lord, I did not," was the ready answer. "I was trying to get to see his lords.h.i.+p, but did not."

"What did you want with him? What brought you back to Calne?"

"I wanted to get from him a guarantee for--for what your lords.h.i.+p knows of; which he had omitted to give, and I had not thought to ask for,"

civilly replied the man. "I was looking about for his lords.h.i.+p on the Tuesday morning, but did not get to see him. In the afternoon, when the boat-race was over, I made bold to call at Hartledon, but the servants said his lords.h.i.+p wasn't in. As I came away, I saw him, as I thought, pa.s.s the lodge and go up the road, and I cut after him, but couldn't overtake him, and at last lost sight of him. I struck into a tangled sort of pathway through the gorse, or whatever it's called down here, and it brought me out near the river. His lords.h.i.+p was just sculling down, and then I knew it was some one else had gone by the lodge, and not him.

Perhaps it was your lords.h.i.+p?"

"You knew it was Lord Hartledon in the boat? I mean, you recognized him?

You did not mistake him for me?"

"I knew him, my lord. If I'd been a bit nearer the lodge, I shouldn't have been likely to mistake even your lords.h.i.+p for him."

Lord Hartledon was gazing into the man's face still; never once had his eyes been removed from it.

"You did not see Lord Hartledon later?"

"I never saw him all day but that once when he pa.s.sed in the skiff."

"You did not follow him, then?"

"Of what use?" debated the man. "I couldn't call out my business from the banks, and didn't know his lords.h.i.+p was going to land lower down. I went straight back to Calne, my lord, walking with that man Pike--who is a rum fellow, and has a history behind him, unless I'm mistaken; but it's no business of mine. I made my mind up to another night of it in Calne, thinking I'd get to Hartledon early next morning before his lords.h.i.+p had time to go out; and I was sitting comfortably with a pipe and a gla.s.s of beer, when news came of the accident."

Lord Hartledon believed the man to be telling the truth; and a weight--the source of which he did not stay to a.n.a.lyse--was lifted from his mind. But he asked another question.

"Why are you still in Calne?"

"I waited for orders. After his lords.h.i.+p died I couldn't go away without them--carrying with me nothing but the word of a dead man. The orders came this morning, safe enough; but I had the summons served on me then to attend the inquest, and had to stay for it. I'm going away now, my lord, by the first train."

Lord Hartledon was satisfied, and nodded his head. As he turned back he met Dr. Ashton.

"I was looking for you, Lord Hartledon. If you require any a.s.sistance or information in the various arrangements that now devolve upon you, I shall be happy to render both. There will be a good deal to do one way or another; more, I dare say, than your inexperience has the least idea of.

You will have your solicitor at hand, of course; but if you want me, you know where to find me."

The Rector's words were courteous, but the tone was not warm, and the t.i.tle "Lord Hartledon" grated on Val's ear. In his impulse he grasped the speaker's hand, pouring forth a heartfelt prayer.

"Oh, Dr. Ashton, will you not forgive me? The horrible trouble I brought upon myself is over now. I don't rejoice in it under the circ.u.mstances, Heaven knows; I only speak of the fact. Let me come to your house again!

Forgive me for the past."

"In one sense the trouble is over, because the debts that were a formidable embarra.s.sment to Mr. Elster are as nothing to Lord Hartledon,"

was the reply. "But let me a.s.sure you of one thing: that your being Lord Hartledon will not make the slightest difference to my decision not to give you my daughter, unless your line of conduct shall change."

"It is changed. Dr. Ashton, on my word of honour, I will never be guilty of carelessness again. One thing will be my safeguard, though all else should fail--the fact that I pa.s.sed my word for this to my dear brother not many hours before his death. For my sake, for Anne's sake, you will forgive me!"

Was it possible to resist the persuasive tones, the earnestness of the honest, dark-blue eyes? If ever Percival Elster was to make an effort for good, and succeed, it must be now. The doctor knew it; and he knew that Anne's happiness was at stake. But he did not thaw immediately.

"You know, Lord Hartledon--"

"Call me Val, as you used to do," came the pleading interruption; and Dr.

Ashton smiled in spite of himself.

"Percival, you know it is against my nature to be harsh or unforgiving; just as I believe it contrary to your nature to be guilty of deliberate wrong. If you will only be true to yourself, I would rather have you for my son-in-law than any other man in England; as I would have had when you were Val Elster. Do you note my words? _true to yourself_."

"As I will be from henceforth," whispered Val, earnest tears rising to his eyes.

And as he would have been but for his besetting sin.

CHAPTER XII.

LATER IN THE DAY.

It happened that Clerk Gum had business on hand the day of the inquest, which obliged him to go to Garchester. He reached home after dark; and the first thing he saw was his wife, in what he was pleased to call a state of semi-idiocy. The tea-things were laid on the table, and substantial refreshment in the shape of cold meat, and a plate of m.u.f.fins ready for toasting, all for the clerk's regalement. But Mrs. Gum herself sat on a low chair by the fire, her eyes swollen with crying.

"What's the matter now?" was the clerk's first question.

"Oh, Gum, I told you you ought not to have gone off to-day. You might have stayed for the inquest."

"Much good I should do the inquest, or the inquest do me," retorted the clerk. "Has Becky gone?"

"Long ago. Gum, that dream's coming round. I said it would. I _told_ you there was ill in store for Lord Hartledon; and that Pike was mixed up in it, and Mr. Elster also in some way. If you'd only listen to me--"

The clerk, who had been brus.h.i.+ng his hat and shaking the dust from his outer coat--for he was a careful man with his clothes, and always well-dressed--brought down his hand upon the table with some temper.

"Just stop that. I've heard enough of that dream, and of all your dreams.

Confounded folly! Haven't I trouble and worry enough upon my mind, without your worrying me every time I come in about your idiotic dreams?"

"Well," returned Mrs. Gum, "if the dream's nothing, I'd like to ask why they had Pike up to-day before them all?"

"Who had him up?" asked the clerk, after a pause. "Had him up where?"

"Before the people sitting on the body of Lord Hartledon. Lydia Jones brought me the news just now. 'They had Pike the poacher up,' says she.

'He was up before the jury, and had to confess to it.' 'Confess to what,'

said I. 'Why, that he was about in the woods when my lord met his end,'