Chapter 50
"Your face at this moment says so."
"Pooh! Don't you go along trusting this here time-piece for the time o'
day. It ain't been brought up in habits o' truthfulness same as yours."
Hugh Ritson laughed.
"You and I are meant to be friends, Mr. Drayton," he said. "But let us first understand each other. Your idea that you could find your parents in c.u.mberland was a pure fallacy."
"Eh! Why?"
"Because your mother is dead."
Drayton shook off the stupor of liquor, and betrayed a keen if momentary interest.
"The book of the asylum in which she was confined, after the attempted suicide, contains the record--"
"But she escaped," interrupted Drayton.
"Contains the record of her escape and subsequent recovery--dead. The body was picked out of the river, recognized by the authorities as that of the unknown woman, and buried in the name she gave."
"What name?" said Drayton.
Hugh Ritson's face underwent a momentary change.
"That is indifferent," he said; "I forget."
"Sure you forget?" said Drayton. "Couldn't be Ritson, eh?"
Hugh struck the table.
"a.s.suredly not--the name was not Ritson."
The tone irritated Mr. Drayton. He glanced down with a look that seemed to say that Hugh Ritson had his Maker to thank for giving him the benefit of an infirm foot.
Hugh Ritson mollified him by explaining that if he had any curiosity as to the name, he could discover it for himself. "Besides," said Hugh, "what matter about the name if your mother is dead?"
"That's true," said Drayton, who, being now appeased, began to see that his anger had been puerile.
"Depend upon it, your father, wherever he is, is a cipher," said Hugh Ritson.
Drayton got on to his feet and trudged the floor uneasily. An idea had occurred to him. "The person picked out of the river may have been another woman. I've heard of such."
"Possibly; but the chance of error is worth little to you." Hugh looked uncomfortable as he said this, but Drayton saw nothing.
"Bah! What matter?" said Drayton, and, determined to cudgel his brains no longer, he reached for the brandy and drank another half gla.s.s. There was then an interchange of deep amity.
"Tell me," said Hugh, "what pa.s.sed at the Ghyll on Monday night?"
"The Ghyll? Monday? That was the night of the snow. What pa.s.sed?
Nothing."
"Why did you go?"
"Wanted to see your mother. Saw your brother one night late at the door of the parson's house. Saw you at the fire. At the
Stood a matter of a dozen yards away when that young buck of a stableman drove up with the trap. What excuse for going? Blest if I remember--summat or other; knocked, and no one came. I don't know how long and all I stood cooling my heels at the door. Then I saw a light coming from a room on the first floor, and up I went and knocked. 'Come in,' says somebody. I went in. Withered old party got up. Black c.r.a.pe and beads, you know. But, afore I could speak, she reeled like a top and fell all of a heap. Blest if the old girl didn't take me for a ghost!"
Mr. Drayton elevated his eyebrows, and added with emphasis, "I got out."
"And on the way back you frightened a young lady in the lane, who, like my mother, mistook you for the ghost of my brother Paul. Well, that young lady was married to my brother this morning. They are now on their way to London. They intend to leave England on Wednesday next, and they mean to pa.s.s to-night in your house."
Mr. Drayton's eyebrows went up again.
"It is certainly hard to understand--but look," and Hugh Ritson handed to Drayton the telegram he had received from Bonnithorne. That worthy examined it minutely, back and front, with bleared and bewildered eyes, and then looked to his visitor for explanation.
"The lady must not leave England," said Hugh.
Drayton steadied himself, and tried hard to look appalled.
"Upon my soul, you make my flesh creep!" he said. "What do you want for your twenty pounds? Speak out plain. I'm not flowery, I'm not. I'm a licensed victualer and a gentleman--"
"What do I want? Only that you should send the lady home again by the first train."
Drayton began to laugh.
"You see, there was no cause for alarm," said Hugh, with an innocent smile.
Drayton's laughter became boisterous.
"I am to decoy the young thing away by making her believe as I'm her husband, eh?"
"Mr. Drayton, you are a shrewd fellow."
"And what about the husband--ain't he another shrewd fellow?"
"Leave him to me. When the time comes, make no delay. Don't expose yourself unnecessarily. Wear that ulster you have on at present. Say as little as possible--nothing if practicable. Get the lady into the fly that shall be waiting at the door; drive to the station; book her to Keswick; put her into the carriage at the last moment; then clear away with all expedition. The midnight train never stops this side of Bedford."
Drayton was shuffling across the room, chuckling audibly. "He, he, he!
haw! haw!--so I'm to leave her at the station, eh? Poor young thing; I hain't got the heart--I hain't got it in me to be so cruel. No, no, I couldn't be such a vagabond of a husband--he, he! haw, haw!--and on the poor thing's wedding day, too."
Hugh Ritson rose to his feet.
"If you go an inch further than the station, you'll repent it to your dying day!" he said, once more bringing down his fist heavily on the table.
At this Drayton chuckled and crowed yet louder, and declared that it would be necessary to have another half gla.s.s in order to take the taste of the observation out of his mouth.
Then his laughter ceased.
"Look here: you want me to do a job as can only be done by one man alive. And what do you offer me--twenty pounds? Keep it," he said; "it won't pa.s.s, sir!"
The fire had burned very low, the cheerless room was dense with smoke and noisome with the smell of dead tobacco. Drayton b.u.t.toned up to the throat the long coat he wore.