So I had always dismissed the stories I had heard in various quarters concerning Tibbie as unjust and untrue. One rumour, however, a strange, faint echo, had reached me in a curious roundabout way while staying at a country house up in Yorkshire, and of late it had caused me to pause and wonder as I still paused and wondered that night. Could it be true? Could it really be true?
I stood looking in the long old-fashioned mirror, gazing unconsciously at my own reflection.
No. What was said was a foul lie. I was quite sure of it. Country yokels are always inventing some story or other concerning the gentlefolk. It was a fable, and I refused to believe it. Tibbie was my friend, and if she was in distress I would help her.
And with that resolve I went down to dinner. I found her in the great oak-panelled hall, where hung the faded and tattered banners of the Scarcliffs, a brilliant figure in pale rose, laughing gaily with her brother-in-law, Lord Wydcombe, her sweet face betraying no sign of either terror or of tears.
She glanced at me, waving her hand merrily as I lounged across the big vaulted apartment to join the tall, distinguished-looking man of thirty-eight, whom she had told me in secret she intended was to be her husband, Ellice Winsloe.
Why didnt you come with us this afternoon, old chap? he asked. We had excellent sport across at Whitewater.
I had letters to write, I pleaded. Ill go with you to-morrow.
Tibbie promised to come out to lunch, but didnt turn up, he remarked, folding his arms, a habit of his when conversing.
No. She went out to make a call, I think. She said she had some old people to visit down in the village. She came in half-an-hour before you did, and then at that moment Adams, the white-headed old butler, announced that dinner was served.
It was a gay party who assembled in the fine old dining-room panelled from floor to ceiling, with the great hearth, the high old Tudor mantelpiece and the white ornamented ceiling with the gilded armorial bearings of the Scarcliffs in the centre. In all we were eleven, including old Lady Scarcliff herself, who, seated at the head of her sons table, had Eric and Ellice on either hand. My seat was between Lady Wydcombe and a fair-haired, rather pretty young girl named Hilda Tracey, and although the meal was a pleasant one, I noticed that never once did Tibbie address the man who had proposed to her. Indeed, she rather avoided us both. Once or twice I addressed a question directly to her, but she replied briefly, and I saw that she regretted that involuntary outburst of a couple of hours before.
The conversation of the men, keen sportsmen all, was mostly regarding the bag of the day, while the women discussed the forthcoming fancy ball over at Arundel, and made plans for it. Cynthia was a tall, striking brunette, a go-ahead woman who entertained lavishly, and whose husband, a thin, fair-haired, fair-moustached man, disapproved of his wifes gaiety, but said nothing. He was a keen sportsman, who had shot big game in the Andes and in Somaliland, and who each year gave a good time to his friends up at his fine grouse-moor in the Highlands. Jack, otherwise the tenth Viscount Scarcliff, was a slim, dark-haired young fellow of twenty-five, with a small black moustache, of a rather indolent, easy-going type, who hated town, and whose chief hobbies were speculating on the Stock Exchange and driving his motor.
Three years ago he had been in London, reading for the Bar, or rather making a pretence of reading, when suddenly he found himself possessor of the title and estates with a substantial rent-roll and the wherewithal to lead an easy existence. Therefore he at once cast aside all ideas of the Law and settled down to a country life, which he now thoroughly enjoyed.
Eric Domville was, however, my intimate friend. Although young for he was not more than thirty-five Whos Who recorded to him a long record of distinguished services as traveller, explorer, Government agent and soldier, a man who during the past ten years or so had lived a charmed life in the African forests and in the great burning Sahara. A big, broad-shouldered fellow of that manly, muscular type of Englishman with a hand-grip like iron, a dark, clean-shaven face, bronzed by the Southern suns, and a long swinging stride, he was essentially a leader of men, and yet at the same time a most charming companion. We had been Etonians together, and afterwards at Oxford, but even when he had gone to Africa we had never lost sight of each other, and often on his brief sojourn at home he had been my guest at Bolton Street. To his intrepid courage the Government were indebted for much geographical knowledge, and considerable prestige in those dark, unknown forest lands beyond the Aruwimi, and to his tact with the native tribes the Colonial Office owed certain important treaties, much to the chagrin of the Belgians. He had fought and conquered savages, he had been bitten by venomous snakes, and had been shot in the back by a treacherous slave-trader, yet he still survived, ever and anon turning up in England recounting his thrilling adventures and difficulties, and laughing over them.
And with all he was one of the most modest of men, and never talked of himself before strangers.
The evening passed as the evenings at Ryhall usually passed, with music in the red drawing-room, afterwards a hand at bridge, and billiards and cigars when the ladies had retired. Yet, watching Tibbie as I did all the evening, I did not fail to notice that her spirits were not nearly so high as usual. Though she very cleverly sought to conceal it, I saw that she was nervous and anxious, and that each time Ellice addressed her she shrank from him as though she held him in abhorrence, instead of having decided to accept him as her husband.
She possessed some secret, the knowledge of which held her in fear. Of that I became convinced.
We usually retired rather late at Ryhall. With the other men I had been smoking and gossiping in one of the smaller rooms leading from the billiard-room, a panelled apartment known as Dame Graces Room, and at two oclock in the morning, Jack and his guests having taken their candles, I found myself alone with Eric.
I had just stretched myself yawning in my chair, and remarked that it was quite time we turned in, when my friend rose, closed the door, and returned to me, saying in a very low, mysterious voice, Wilfrid, Ive been waiting all the evening to speak to you, only I couldnt get you alone. Theyve all gone at last, so we can talk.
Well, I said, throwing away my cigar, and bending towards him eagerly. What is it, old fellow? Something serious, I know, from your manner. For I saw that his good-humoured face was now pale and troubled.
Yes. It is serious very serious, he said in a hard, low voice. It concerns Sybil your friend.
What about her? I exclaimed, in quick surprise.
Ive learnt something to-day something that utterly amazes me. I feel that it cant be true. Therefore, Im bound to confide in you, as you are her friend as well as mine. We must act together.
Tell me, I said anxiously, what have you heard? Some foolish story concerning her, of course.
Well. I know that I may rely on your secrecy, so Ill relate the whole facts. About three oclock this afternoon I left the others to try the turnips around Charlton Wood, and while walking on the edge of the thickets that fringe the forest I thought I heard voices. I have a quick ear for sound, you know. Well, wondering who might be there, I resorted to an old trick taught me by the African natives, and leaving my gun, crept in through the undergrowth without stirring a leaf until I was close to the strangers. Then parting the branches I saw to my utter amazement, Tibbie standing there with a man a tallish fellow in a dark suit.
Yes. It is serious very serious, he said in a hard, low voice. It concerns Sybil your friend.
What about her? I exclaimed, in quick surprise.
Ive learnt something to-day something that utterly amazes me. I feel that it cant be true. Therefore, Im bound to confide in you, as you are her friend as well as mine. We must act together.
Tell me, I said anxiously, what have you heard? Some foolish story concerning her, of course.
Well. I know that I may rely on your secrecy, so Ill relate the whole facts. About three oclock this afternoon I left the others to try the turnips around Charlton Wood, and while walking on the edge of the thickets that fringe the forest I thought I heard voices. I have a quick ear for sound, you know. Well, wondering who might be there, I resorted to an old trick taught me by the African natives, and leaving my gun, crept in through the undergrowth without stirring a leaf until I was close to the strangers. Then parting the branches I saw to my utter amazement, Tibbie standing there with a man a tallish fellow in a dark suit.
Tibbie! I gasped. With a man in the wood?
Yes, said my friend. And mere. I overheard some of their conversation. The fellow looked to me like some farmers lout, yet he spoke with an air of refinement he spoke to her, Wilfrid as her lover!
Her lover! I echoed, bewildered. Then the strange rumour I had heard had actually some foundation! The Honourable Sybil Burnet, one of the smartest women in London, was in the habit of meeting a lover in secret. I held my breath, utterly confounded.
Well, I asked, stunned by the revelation, and what else what else did you see?
Imagine my utter surprise, my dear old chap, to witness Tibbie our own Tibbie allowing the fellow to kiss her! And yet she did, without repelling him. She stood and heard him to the end. He told her that he loved her and that he intended to marry her, whatever the world might say. You are mine, Miss Sybil mine mine! he kept on repeating, while she stood, allowing him to take her in his arms, and kiss her passionately. Who the fellow is I dont know. Im only certain that for some reason shes in deadly fear of him.
Why? I asked, eagerly.
Because a lady would surely never allow herself to be caressed by such a rank outsider. Why, my dear old chap, he seemed to be a mere shabby wayfarer with down-at-heel boots, and an old dusty suit. At last, after a quarter of an hour, during which time I learned that he had loved her in secret for two years, she suddenly pushed him from her, and spoke quite seriously, saying, All this is entirely useless, my dear Charles. I may as well tell you the truth at once, and end this folly for ever. I am engaged to Mr Winsloe! In an instant the fellows affection turned to an ungovernable fury. He raved and threatened, declaring that she was his, and no one elses, and that she should never marry Winsloe. At all this, however, Tibbie only laughed defiantly, apparently treating his words as mere empty threats, until of a sudden he took her roughly by the shoulders, and glaring into her face said, Sybil! You will marry me, or I will tell the world the truth! You know what I mean. Im not to be trifled with. Decide. Then occurred a terrible scene between them. She openly accused him of attempting to blackmail her, while he, on his part, reiterated his love, declaring that while he lived she should never marry another. I would have gone forward to protect her, but how could I? By so doing I should only have acknowledged myself as a mean eavesdropper. Therefore, overhearing that which I had no desire to hear, I turned and crept back into the field as noiselessly as I came. Then, and he lowered his voice, and speaking slowly, then five minutes later, as I was making my way back to the party I heard a shot from the wood a revolver shot I knew by the sound. But I went on in wonder and fear. I looked at my watch, and saw that it was just four oclock.
And at a little after half-past she was with me in the Long Gallery. Perhaps the fellow fired at her? I suggested, staring at him.
Or she at him? Eric said in a low, very hard tone. Recollect this ruffian is a lover, and moreover is in possession of some secret which she fears may be revealed. I saw a revolver in her hand, Wilfrid, he added hoarsely. She threatened him with it. And she shot him! What can we do to save her?
Scarcely had he whispered this serious question when Rainer, the under-butler, entered to inquire if we desired anything further, and on my replying in the negative, the man said,
Theres been a terrible affair up in Charlton Wood, sir, John Harris, the keeper, on going his round to-night found a man shot dead. They sent down to the house to telephone to the doctor half-an-hour ago.
Whos the man? I gasped, springing up at the servants startling declaration, while Eric stood rigid.
Nobody knows. They havent brought him down to the village yet.
Eric and I exchanged glances. But we were silent and our silence was surely more expressive than words.
Chapter Three.
Describes a Man and a Mystery
Its probably some poor beggar whos committed suicide, I remarked, in order to allay Rainers suspicions, if he had noticed the change in our countenances when he made his startling announcement.
Hes badly-dressed, Harris says. Perhaps hes a tramp, remarked the servant.
Perhaps so. We want nothing more, Rainer, to-night, I added.
Very good, sir, and the man bowed and withdrew, closing the door after him.
What shall we do? whispered Eric, quickly, his face pale beneath the sun-tan.
I stood staring at my friend, unable to utter a word.
Was that Sybils secret the secret that she had been so very near revealing to me? I recollected those strange words of hers, You would hate me! Yes, her secret was a guilty one.
Do? I echoed at last in a low whisper, fearing Rainer might be listening. Why, we must make our own inquiries before those local busybodies of police step in and bungle the affair. She must be saved dont you agree?
Yes. At all costs we must save her, he cried quickly. Lets go out and see who the fellow is.
Not yet. Wait for half an hour or so, until theyre all gone to bed. The servants hall is all in a flutter, it seems, and the maids will be about frightened and whispering. If we are to get away unseen we must slip out of yonder window. All the doors are closed now, and the dogs are loose in the courtyard.
Youre right, old fellow. We must wait a bit, he agreed. But whats your private opinion of the affair?
I have none, was my blank reply. Until I have some proof, I suspect nobody.
Quite so. Lets leave Tibbie entirely out of the question. Remember, not a word to anyone of what Ive told you, for Im the principal witness against her. Think, if they called me. My evidence would condemn her!
I regard all that youve told me, Eric, as unsaid, I responded. Tibbie is my friend.
But you dont think Ive lied, do you? he asked quickly, not grasping my meaning.
Of course not. Why should you? We know each other too well to make false charges against our friends, I answered. It is a mystery a complete mystery.
Absolutely. I was struck dumb when I discovered her in the arms of the fellow. I couldnt really believe my own eyes. Then, after a pause, he asked in a lower tone, What secret of hers did he hold, I wonder?