Johnny Ludlow Third Series Part 32

"Certainly I am. Every one ought to be, I think."

The surgeon took his cigar from his mouth. "I'll tell you my opinion, if you care to know it," he said. "The note was burnt."

"Burnt!"

"Well, it is the most likely solution of the matter that I can come to.

Either burnt, or else was blown away."

"But why do you say this?" questioned Dr. Knox.

"It was a particularly windy day. The gla.s.s-doors of the room were left open while the house ran about in a fright, attending to the child, young d.i.c.k. A flimsy bit of bank-paper, lying on the table, would get blown about like a feather in a gale. Whether it got into the fire, caught by the current of the chimney, or whether it sailed out-of-doors and disappeared in the air, is a question I can't undertake to solve.

Rely upon it, Knox, it was one of the two: and I should bet upon the fire."

It was just the clue Dr. Knox had been wis.h.i.+ng for. But he did not think the whole fault lay with the wind: he had another idea.

Lefford had a shock in the morning. Bertie Tamlyn was dead. The news came to Dr. Knox in a note from Mr. Tamlyn, which was delivered whilst he was dressing. "You will stay for the funeral, Arnold," were the concluding words. And as Dr. Knox wanted to be at home a little longer on his own account, he wrote to London to say that business was temporarily detaining him. He then went to see what he could do for Mr.

Tamlyn, and got back to Rose Villa for dinner.

Watching for an opportunity--which did not occur until late in the afternoon--Dr. Knox startled the servants by walking into the kitchen, and sitting down. Mrs. Knox had gone off in the pony-chaise; the children were out with the new governess. The kitchen and the servants were alike smartened-up for the rest of the day. Eliza, the cook, was making a new pudding-cloth; Sally was ironing.

"I wish to ask you both a few questions," said Dr. Knox, taking out his note-book and pencil. "It is not possible that Miss Carey can be allowed to lie under the disgraceful accusation that was brought against her, and I am about to try and discover what became of the bank-note. Mrs.

Knox was not in the house at the time, and therefore cannot give me the details."

Eliza, who had risen and stood, work in hand, simply stared at the doctor in surprise. Sally dropped her iron on the blanket.

"_We_ didn't take the note, sir," said Eliza, after a pause. "We'd not do such a thing."

"I'm sure I didn't; I'd burn my hands off first," broke in Sally, with a burst of tears.

"Of course you would not," returned Dr. Knox in a pleasant tone. "The children would not. Mrs. Knox would not. But as the note undoubtedly disappeared, and without hands, we must try and discover where the mystery lies and how it went. I dare say you would like Miss Carey to be cleared."

"Miss Carey was a downright nice young lady," p.r.o.nounced the cook.

"Quite another sort from this one we've got now."

"Well, give me all the particulars as correctly as you can remember,"

said the doctor. "We may get some notion or other out of them."

Eliza plunged into the narration. She was fond of talking. Sally stood over her ironing, sniffing and sighing. Dr. Knox listened.

"Mrs. Knox left the note on the table--which was much strewed with papers--when she went out with Lady Jenkins, and Miss Carey took her place at the accounts," repeated Dr. Knox, summing up the profuse history in a few concise words. "While----"

"And Miss Carey declared, sir, that she never saw the note; never noticed it lying there at all," came Eliza's interruption.

"Yes, just so. While Miss Carey was at the table, the alarm came that Master d.i.c.k had fallen out of the tree, and she ran to him----"

"And a fine fright that fall put us into, sir! We thought he was dead.

Jim went galloping off for the doctor, and me and Sally and Miss Carey stayed bathing his head on that there very ironing-board, a-trying to find out what the damage was."

"And the children: where were they?"

"All round us here in the kitchen, sir, sobbing and staring."

"Meanwhile the garden-room was deserted. No one went into it, as far as you know."

"n.o.body at all, sir. When Sally ran in to look at the fire, she found it had gone clean out. The doctor had been there then, and Master Richard was in bed. A fine pickle Sally found the room in, with the sc.r.a.ps of paper, and that, blown about the floor. The gla.s.s-doors was standing stark staring open to the wind."

"And, I presume, you gathered up some of these sc.r.a.ps of paper, and lighted the fire with them, Sally?"

Dr. Knox did not appear to look at Sally as he spoke, but he saw and noted every movement. He saw that her hand shook so that she could scarcely hold the iron.

"Has it never struck you, Sally, that you might have put the bank-note into the grate with these sc.r.a.ps of paper, and burnt it?" he continued.

"Innocently, of course. That is how I think the note must have disappeared. Had the wind taken it into the garden, it would most probably have been found."

Sally flung her ap.r.o.n over her face and herself on to a chair, and burst into a howl. Eliza looked at her.

"If you think there is a probability that this was the case, Sally, you must say so," continued Dr. Knox. "You will never be blamed, except for not having spoken."

"'Twas only yesterday I asked Sally whether she didn't think this was the way it might have been," said the cook in a low tone to Dr. Knox.

"She have seemed so put out, sir, for a week past."

"I vow to goodness that I never knew I did it," sobbed Sally. "All the while the bother was about, and Miss Carey, poor young lady, was off her head, it never once struck me. What Eliza and me thought was, that some tramps must have come round the side of the house and got in at the open gla.s.s-doors, and stole it. The night after Miss Carey left with her aunt, I was thinking about her as I lay in bed, and wondering whether the mistress would send the police after her or not, when all of a sudden the thought flashed across me that it might have gone into the fire with the other pieces of paper. Oh mercy, I wish I was somewhere!"

"What became of the ashes out of the grate?--the cinders?" asked Dr.

Knox.

"They're all in the ash-place, sir, waiting till the garden's ready for them," sobbed Sally.

With as little delay as possible, Dr. Knox had the cinders carefully sifted and examined, when the traces of what had once undoubtedly been a bank-note were discovered. The greater portion of the note had been reduced to tinder, but a small part of it remained, enough to show what it had been, and--by singular good fortune--its number. It must have fallen out of the grate partly consumed, while the fire was lighting up, and been swept underneath by Sally with other remnants, where it had lain quietly until morning and been taken away with the ashes.

The traces gathered carefully into a small box and sealed up, Dr. Knox went into the presence of his step-mother.

"I think," he said, just showing the box as it lay in his hand, "that this proof will be accepted by the Bank of England; in that case they will make good the money to me. One question, mother, I wish to ask you: how could you possibly suspect Miss Carey?"

"There was no one else for me to suspect," replied Mrs. Knox in fretful tones; for she did not at all like this turn in the affair.

"Did you _really_ suspect her?"

"Why, of course I did. How can you ask such foolish questions?"

"It was a great mistake in any case to take it up as you did. I am not alluding to the suspicion now; but to your harsh and cruel treatment."

"Just mind your own business, Arnold. It's nothing to you."

"For my own part, I regard it as a matter that we must ever look back upon with shame."