Chapter 21
"Hedges!"
Hedges was struck with consternation at the call, for it was that of his new master. He had not bargained for this; supposing that he had gone to his room for the night. However he might have been foolishly won over to accede to the man's strange request, it was not to be supposed it would be approved of by Lord Hartledon. The butler hesitated. He did not care to betray Pike, neither did he care to leave Pike alone.
"Hedges!" came the call again, louder and quicker.
"Yes, sir--my lord?" and Hedges squeezed out at the door without opening it much--which was rather a difficulty, for he was a portly man, with a red, honest sort of face--leaving Pike and the light inside. Lord Hartledon--as we must unfortunately call him now--was standing in the hall.
"Has Dr. Ashton gone?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Did he leave that address?"
Hedges knew to what his master alluded: an address that was wanted in connection with certain official proceedings that must now take place.
Hedges replied that Dr. Ashton had not left it with him.
"Then he must have forgotten it. He said he would write it down in pencil. Send over to the Rectory the first thing in the morning. And, Hedges--"
At this moment a slight noise was heard within the room like the sound of an extinguisher falling; as, in fact, it was. Lord Hartledon turned towards it.
"Who is there, Hedges?"
"I--it's no one in particular, sir--my lord."
What with the butler's bewilderment on the sudden change of masters, and what with his consciousness of the presence of his visitor, he was unusually confused. Lord Hartledon noticed it. It instantly occurred to him that one of the ladies, or perhaps one of the women-servants, had been admitted to the room; and he did not consider it a proper sight for any of them.
"Who is it?" he demanded, somewhat peremptorily.
So Hedges had to confess what had taken place, and that he had allowed the man to enter.
"Pike! Why, what can he want?" exclaimed Lord Hartledon in surprise. And he turned to the room.
The moment the butler left him alone Mr. Pike's first proceeding had been to cover his head again with his wide-awake, which he had evidently removed with reluctance, and might have refused to remove at all had it been consistent with policy; his second was to s.n.a.t.c.h up the candle, bend over the dead face, and examine it minutely both with eye and hand.
"There _is_ a wound, then, and it's true what they are saying. I thought it might have been gossip," he muttered, as he pushed the soft dark hair from the temple. "Any more suspicious marks?" he resumed, taking a rapid view of the hands and head. "No; nothing but what he'd be likely to get in the water: but--I'll swear _that_ might have been the blow of a human hand. 'Twould stun, if it wouldn't kill; and then, held under the water--"
At this moment Mr. Pike and his comments were interrupted, and he drew back from the table on which the body was lying; but not before Lord Hartledon had seen him touching
"What are you doing?" came the stern demand.
"I wasn't harming him," was the answer; and Mr. Pike seemed to have suddenly returned to his roughness. "It's a nasty accident to have happened; and I don't like _this_."
He pointed to the temple as he spoke. Lord Hartledon's usually good-natured brow--at present a brow of deep sorrow--contracted with displeasure.
"It is an awful accident," he replied. "But I asked what you were doing here?"
"I thought I'd like to look upon him, sir; and the butler let me in. I wish I'd been a bit nearer the place at the time: I'd have saved him, or got drowned myself. Not much fear of that, though. I'm a rat for the water. Was that done fairly?" pointing again to the temple.
"What do you mean?" exclaimed Val.
"Well--it might be, or it might not. One who has led the roving life I have, and been in all sorts of scenes, bred in the slums of London too, looks on the suspicious side of these things. And there mostly is one in all of 'em."
Val was moved to anger. "How dare you hint at so infamous a suspicion, Pike? If--"
"No offence, my lord," interrupted Pike--"and it's my lord that you are now. Thoughts may be free in this room; but I am not going to spread suspicion outside. I say, though that _might_ have been an accident, it might have been done by an enemy."
"Did you do it?" retorted Lord Hartledon in his displeasure.
Pike gave a short laugh.
"I did not. I had no cause to harm him. What I'm thinking was, whether anybody else had. He was mistaken for another yesterday," continued Pike, dropping his voice. "Some men in his lords.h.i.+p's place might have showed fight then: even blows."
Percival made no immediate rejoinder. He was gazing at Pike just as fixedly as the latter gazed at him. Did the man wish to insinuate that the unwelcome visitor had again mistaken the one brother for the other, and the result had been a struggle between them, ending in this? The idea rushed into his mind, and a dark flush overspread his face.
"You have no grounds for thinking that man--you know who I mean--attacked my brother a second time?"
"No, I have no grounds for it," shortly answered Pike.
"He was near to the spot at the time; I saw him there," continued Lord Hartledon, speaking apparently to himself; whilst the flush, painfully red and dark, was increasing rather than diminis.h.i.+ng.
"I know you did," returned Pike.
The tone grated on Lord Hartledon's ear. It implied that the man might become familiar, if not checked; and, with all his good-natured affability, he was not one to permit it; besides, his position was changed, and he could not help feeling that it was. "Necessity makes us acquainted with strange bedfellows," says the very true proverb; and what might have been borne yesterday would not be borne to-day.
"Let me understand you," he said, and there was a stern decision in his tone and manner that surprised Pike. "Have you any reason whatever to suspect that man of having injured, or attempted to injure my brother?"
"_I_'ve not," answered Pike. "I never saw him nearer to the mill yesterday than he was when he looked at us. I don't think he went nearer.
My lord, if I knew anything against the man, I'd tell it out, and be glad. I hate the whole tribe. _He_ wouldn't make the mistake again,"
added Pike, half-contemptuously. "He knew which was his lords.h.i.+p fast enough to-day, and which wasn't."
"Then what did you mean by insinuating that the blow on the temple was the result of violence?"
"I didn't say it was: I said it might have been. I don't know a thing, as connected with this business, against a mortal soul. It's true, my lord."
"Perhaps, then, you will leave this room," said Lord Hartledon.
"I'm going. And many thanks to your lords.h.i.+p for not having turned me from it before, and for letting me have my say. Thanks to _you_, sir," he added, as he went out of the room and pa.s.sed Hedges, who was waiting in the hall.
Hedges closed the door after him, and turned to receive a reprimand from his new master.
"Before you admit such men as that into the most sacred chamber the house at present contains, you will ask my permission, Hedges."
Hedges attempted to excuse himself. "He was so very earnest, my lord; he declared to me he had a good motive in wanting to come in. At these times, when one's heart is almost broken with a sudden blow, one is apt to be soft and yielding. What with that feeling upon me, and what with the fright he gave me--"
"What fright did he give you?" interrupted Val.
"Well, my lord, he--he asked me whether his lords.h.i.+p had come fairly by his death."
"How dare you repeat the insinuation?" broke forth Lord Hartledon, with more temper than Hedges had ever seen him display. "The very idea is absurd; it is wicked; it is unpardonable. My brother had not an enemy in the world. Take care not to repeat it again. Do you hear?"