Vaguely Andrew wondered what the man could mean, but concluded that by some slip he must be addressing his master. As the door shut behind him he saw a figure emerge from the shadows at the end of the room, in which he recognized that of Clara, clad all in black which, as was usual with her garments, became her extremely well.
"Oh! Andrew," she exclaimed with some show of genuine emotion, "you come to a sad house, Andrew."
"I know, dear," he answered, "but it wasn't my fault."
"Of course not, Andrew, but there is more than that. Our uncle"
"Well, what of him, Clara?"
"Dead! he was buried yesterday."
"Good God!" said Andrew. "That is why the butler called me Lord Atterton?"
She nodded. "You are that now, you see. Algernon's death killed him," and she pointed to a chair, adding, "there is so much to tell you."
He sank into it and she began:
"After that terrible cable of yours he never was the same. A kind of fit of rage seized him, rage against Providence which had robbed him of his only child, and I am sorry to say rage against you who were with Algernon at the end, though for this he could give no definite reason."
"My uncle always disliked me and he was always unjust."
Clara nodded, and went on:
"Then arrived your letter written immediately after Algernon's death, which must just have caught a mail and come through very quickly. When he had read it his anger against you redoubled, because he said that on your own showing it was owing to your neglect of duty in leaving Algernon alone with that girl that he got chilled through which brought on the hæmorrhage that killed him. Indeed, I wish, Andrew, that you had not explained all that business so fully."
"I had to tell the exact truth," he replied coldly. "I explained that Algernon gave me the slip, as it is easy to do in such a place. If my uncle had any sense of justice, he must have understood this."
"Yes, dear, but you see he would not understand because he had become almost insane. Also the fact that you did not bring home the body inflamed him still more, because he said it was disobedience to his orders."
"It was impossible, Clara. There were reasons which prevented him from being embalmed. Further, it would not have been allowed by the authorities."
"I know and told uncle as much. But it was of no use. He raved away against you and even, I am sorry to add, made vile suggestions which I will not repeat. Perhaps you can guess them."
"Perfectly, Clara. That I had allowed Algernon to die, or perhaps had murdered him to forward my own interests?"
"That kind of thing," she replied evasively. "And now comes the worst."
"The worst! What worse can there be than accusations of murder?"
"This. Suddenly an idea struck him and he said that at any rate you should not benefit. Then he ordered the carriage and drove off to his lawyers where he spent a couple of hours. When on his return I asked him what he had been doing, he said that I should find out one day, and went on abusing you. Next morning he had an apoplectic stroke and in twentyfour hours was dead. He never spoke after the stroke. Yesterday afternoon when the funeral was over the lawyer stopped behind in this house and read me a copy of the will."
"Does it suggest that I am a murderer?" asked Andrew.
"No, it says nothing whatsoever about you. I expect the lawyer prevented that. But the sum and substance of it isoh! I am almost ashamed to tell youthat he has left me everything he could, an enormous sum together with the distilleries, etc. I believe that the value of it all is between £20,000 and £30,000 a year, and that it will be more."
For the first time Andrew laughed as he answered:
"Has he? Well, that's lucky, for he might have done something ridiculous with the money. I congratulate you on being so rich and I only wish you could take the title into the bargain, though doubtless you will be able to get one for yourself."
"Thank you, Andrew," she answered with decision, "but I have not the slightest intention of marrying, at any rate at present. It is only right that I should tell you, however, that the lawyer said that in his opinion you would have very good grounds to contest this will."
"I!" exclaimed Andrew with indignation. "I contest that man's will in order to try to take what he did not wish me to have! What can you think of me, Clara: Do you suppose that I care anything at all about his dirty money, or that I want wealth?"
"Really you are a very strange man, Andrew," said Clara, opening her eyes wide. "Well, I am afraid that you do not altogether escape the contamination of property, since you must succeed to the entailed estates in Scotland which are worth several thousands a year, though I believe they are expensive to keep up; and to this house which is also entailed. And now, dear Andrew, I want to say something. I think that our uncle has treated you wickedly, chiefly because you never would humour him, as I confess that I always did, and made jokes about the peerage, which of course was distilled out of whisky, as was his fortune. Honestly I have felt for you very much, being fond of you in my own way, Andrew, and had great difficulty in keeping quiet while he reviled you as he did."
"Thank you, old girl," said Andrew. "It's very kind of you to talk like that I can tell you it's appreciated," and throwing his arm about her, he drew her to him and gave her a brotherly kiss upon the forehead.
She coloured a little and remarked as she disentangled herself:
"You are just a great baby, Andrew, and therefore must be treated as a baby. If you had wished to fight me for this fortune, as you have a perfect right to do, I should have fought you. But as you have taken the line you have, I feel that you must be protected against yourself, and therefore I propose to share it with you. I can get on quite nicely on £12,000 or £15,000 a year."
Andrew laughed again.
"No, you don't, old girl," he said. "Keep your money and don't smell whisky as you spend it. If I'm hard up, as I dare say I shall be, I'll borrow a tenner of you some time. For the rest I have every prospect of being able to earn my own living, even if those blessed estates cost as much as they bring in. As for this mausoleum of a house, it shall be sold if that can be done. And look here, don't think that I am not grateful to you for your kind offer, for I am, especially as it shows," he added more to himself than to her, "how wrong was old Algy's estimate of you. You know, Clara, when something happens that causes you to respect a person whom you have been persuaded not to respectwell, it is worth more than all the West distilleries."
"So Algy thought badly of me, did he?" she exclaimed, looking at him sharply. "If so, I am sorry, for he was shrewd."
"Oh! no, I didn't mean that. He thought that you looked after yourself, that's all."
"So I do," replied Clara, "and mean to go on doing; it is necessary in this world which we have to get through as comfortably as we can."
"Quite right too, old girl. That's my motto exactly, as you'd agree if only you knew what a schemer I am. Well, all this awful business is done with. Poor Algy is deadby the way, I will send in a statement of accounts to the lawyers; and our uncle is dead and I hope has gone somewhere where his temper will improve and his sense of justice grow. So really I am beginning to feel quite lighthearted again. Or at least I should if it wasn't for this accursed title, which will stand in my way a lot. Do you think that I must really call myself Lord Atterton?"
"You may call yourself anything, Merryandrew, if you like, but other people will call you Lord Atterton," remarked Clara severely.
"You may call yourself anything, Merryandrew, if you like, but other people will call you Lord Atterton," remarked Clara severely.
"Oh! Well, at any rate it needn't begin at once. Mrs. Josky won't know, for instance."
"Mrs. Josky! Do you mean to say that you are going back to live in that place?"
"Of course. You seem to forget that I have my living to earn. That reminds me, there's an appointment I must keep, so I'll be going. I'll come to see you in a day or two, and perhaps shall bring you some news. Also I want my breakfast. Goodbye, dear. You can find me if you want me," and he turned to go.
"Stop," said Clara. "The resources of this establishment run to bacon and eggs."
"Oh! no, notnot as I like them cooked. Also I couldn't think of troubling these gorgeous menials of yours and the place smells of funerals. Goodbye," and he fled.
Now what is one to make of a man like that? reflected Clara as she heard the front door, opened by himself, slam behind him. On the whole I think him rather delightful and, yes, I like him better than I ever did anyone else. He is the only male creature who does not actively repel me, and very nicelooking too, in his way. Just fancy his refusing £10,000 a year which ought to be his own. Well, I suppose that I shall have to pay it secretly into his account, through the estate, or somehow; he'd never know the difference, or if he did, he would never find out where it came from, if the lawyers and agents were properly cautioned.
She paused for a while, then went on, still thinking to herself:
So Algy had a bad opinion of me; Andrew let that out in his silly way. Well, Algy was right as, when sober, he always was in such matters, for I have a bad opinion of myself. I did scheme for that inheritance. By hints I put the idea into uncle's mind, always meaning to share it with Andrew. And now that he won't take my bounty, I am ashamed of myself, because I know very well that had it been the other way about, I should have taken his.
Again she paused, and again went on:
Andrew is mixed up with some woman. I'm sure of it, for that's what he meant by his ridiculous talk about an appointment which he could have had no time to make. Who can it be? Not that frigid Miss Black whom I saw at the station, for she isn't a lady and looks like an animated statue and Andrew never liked marble, although I am sure she likes him, for I saw her looking at him. If it is only an intrigue with a married woman or someone, it doesn't matter. He'll wear that out. But if it is some girl whom he means to marry, I shall hate her, that's all, and him too. What's more, she added to herself with conviction, Andrew is the sort of man who would make a housemaid into Lady Atterton if he took a fancy to her, and apologize to her for the title. Oh! he's an idiot, that's what he is, and he wants looking after if he is not to be wasted to the world. I shouldn't wonder if he doesn't come near me again for weeks, unless I fetch him. Now I must go on with the inventory. I wonder whether anyone in the world ever bought as much bad silver as my uncle. Well, Andrew will get it, not I, or rather, it will go into the Bank and remain there, for he can't use it at Mrs. Josky's, which is his idea of a fitting abode for a member of the peerage.
Chapter X
A Meeting
When Andrew said that he wanted breakfast he told rather an awkward fib since some had been served on the train, enough for him at any rate, who was at no time a great eater. What he really wanted was to get away from Cavendish Square and the discussion of subjects that he found unpleasant.
Once outside the house he reflected as to what he should do next. Of course, his desire and impulse were to fly on the wings of the wind, or rather of a cab, to Red Hall, Whitechapel. Only he remembered that Rose was nearly always out in the morning, shopping he supposed, as was her father. Also it would be seemly to prepare her for his arrival, lest it should give her a shock and cause her to say something before others which afterwards she might regret.
There was a further reason. It was his dutyas may have been gathered, Andrew had a great idea of dutyto report himself at once to Somerville Black, which was easy, as he lived so near. First, however, he went to a telegraph office and despatched two wires, one addressed Watson, so that anyone could open it, and the other Josky. Their contents, with the alteration of a single word, were identical. The first ran: "Back from Egypt. Coming to tea." The second: "Back from Egypt. Coming to dinner." Both of them were signed "Andrew West" although he remembered with irritation that no longer was this his designation. Also each was exactly twelve words long, and therefore, as he reflected with satisfaction, would go for sixpence. For Andrew had already made up his mind that he would get nothing out of his inheritance and therefore must practise economy for Rose's sake. Then he walked on to Harley Street where, as it was now past eleven, he expected to find Black ready to receive his fashionable patients, who generally began to arrive to consult him at that hour.
As it happened, the butler, Tomkins, being absent for some reason, the door was opened by a maid who knew Andrew, although of her he had very vague recollections.
"Doctor in?" he asked.
"No, Sir," was the answer. "Having only returned last night he has no appointments till after lunch. He has gone out to see some special case, but I expect he will be back soon."
"All right," said Andrew, "I will wait for him," and walked straight into the consultingroom, closing the door behind him.
Here, for lack of anything better to do, he sat down at Black's desk and began to examine the casebook which lay upon the table, trying to pick up details concerning various patients with whom he had been connected before he left for Egypt. Soon he became absorbed in this research, tracing them forward from page to page, and sighing when he found entered on a certain date against the name of a young lady who had interested him"Died. Heart failure."
So absorbed was he that he never heard the door open, or a woman enter softly. Now this room faced east and the May sun being very strong early that morning, the blinds had been drawn and not yet pulled up again, although by now the sun was off the windows. Therefore to anyone coming in from the bright light without, the place was for a little while almost dark. Thus it happened that Rose, for it was she, seeing a man seated in Dr. Black's chair engaged in the study of Dr. Black's manuscript book, concluded not unnaturally that it was Dr. Black.
"Oh! my dear," she exclaimed, "are you back already. How delightful!"
Andrew, hearing the voice which had been echoing through his dreams for months and ravished by this affectionate greeting, forgetting also that it was odd it should have been offered to him in this house and room, sprang from the chair. In the enthusiasm and rapture of the moment he did more, for seeing before him a particularly lovely and fragrant Rose, arrayed in charming summer apparel, without a word he swept her into his arms and kissed her passionately.
At what exact period in these proceedings Rose became aware of her mistake he never learned. At any rate, probably through surprise, she allowed them to go on without interruption, till he released her indeed in order to use his lips for their more common purpose of speech. Then she said, with a kind of gasp and trembling all over:
"Oh! you mustn't. Andrew, you must never do that again."
"Whywhy not?" he asked blankly.
"Oh!didn't you know? I wrote a letter to Justice Street to tell youbecausebecause I am married."