Chapter 83
"Mean? who should I mean," he cried tragically, "but that wretch in yonder room?"
"A murderer!"
"Yes, of the man who drove him from his home. I denounce him as the murderer of poor old Gartram, and--"
There was a wild shriek, and as Chris Lisle rushed into the room to see what was wrong, Wimble remembered his promise to the lawyer; but too late: the box was wide open now.
"Mrs Sarson--Wimble! what is the matter?"
"Oh, Mr Lisle," cried the widow, sobbing wildly. "Oh, my poor darling, he says you murdered Mr Gartram. Tell him he is mad."
Sarah Woodham was seated an hour later that night sewing, when she was startled by the sudden entrance of Reuben, the gardener, looking wild-eyed and strange, and she involuntarily rose from her chair, and stood upon the defensive, the other servants being down the town, and her heart telling her that "this foolish man," as she termed him, was about to renew advances which he had been making before.
"Don't be frightened," he said, quickly grasping the meaning of her action; "I wasn't going to say anything about that now. Have you heard?"
"Heard what?"
"I've just come from the harbour, and they're all talking about it."
"Yes? What--some wreck?"
"No; about Mr Chris Lisle."
"What about him--dead?" said Sarah Woodham, in a hoa.r.s.e whisper, as she laid her hand upon her side and thought of Claude.
"Better if he was, my dear," said the gardener hoa.r.s.ely, and in her excitement the woman did not think to resent his familiarity. "They are saying that he murdered master with poison."
Sarah reeled, and would have fallen, so great was the shock the words gave her, but Brime caught her in his arms.
She recovered herself, and thrust him away.
"Mr Chris Lisle? Impossible."
"So I thought, but he was skulking about our grounds that night, for I caught him hiding."
"Oh, it can't be true. You people are always inventing foolish scandals. What nonsense! Let him rest in his grave in peace."
She looked so ghastly that even the un.o.bservant gardener noticed it, and made a remark.
"Look white? of course," she said, with a curious
"You needn't be cross with me, Sarah Woodham," said Brime, paying no heed to her last words, and only too glad of an excuse to hold her in conversation. "I knew how you liked Miss Claude, and the news was about her young man, and I thought it better to tell you than go and tell her."
"What! you would not dare to tell her such a thing."
"Well, somebody will if I don't. She's sure to know."
"Hush, man! Don't dare to speak of it again. It is a miserable scandal of some of the tattling gossips, and it will be forgotten, perhaps, to-morrow. There, not another word."
"But, Sarah, let me talk of something else."
She went to the door and opened it, pointing out.
"Go," she said.
Brime sighed deeply, and went away slowly without another word.
"Poor fellow," said the woman softly, "better for him to jump into the sea than to go on thinking about that."
She stood for a few moments with her hands to her forehead, as if to dull the excitement from which she was suffering, uttering a low moan from time to time.
"How horrible!" she gasped. "It seems more than I can bear. Poor child, if she was to hear!"
She stood staring before her at last, with her lips moving, and her eyes fixed upon the darkness in the farther corner of the room, as if she saw something there.
"I cannot bear it," she muttered at last; and hurriedly pa.s.sing out, she hurried up to her room, and threw herself upon her knees by the bedside.
How long she remained there she did not know. Suddenly she started up, believing that she heard voices below.
"They will have heard it, perhaps," she said excitedly; and, hurrying out, she found that the two servants who had been out had returned, and were talking quickly.
Sarah Woodham turned cold with apprehension, under the impression that the women were retailing the scandal they had heard to their mistress, and she uttered a sigh of relief as she heard Mary Dillon say quickly--
"And they are talking about it everywhere you say?"
"Yes, miss; and we thought you ought to hear."
"Hus.h.!.+--Oh, Woodham, these two have come back with a silly tale that--"
Sarah Woodham laid a thin hand upon her arm.
"That--have you heard? Oh, how horrible! But what absurd nonsense.
There, go away, all of you. It is too dreadful to talk about, and you must let it die a natural death."
"But they say, miss, that the police will take Mr Christopher Lisle, and that he will be hung for murder," whispered the cook in awe-stricken tones; "and if Miss Claude should hear that--Oh!"
Claude had quietly opened the drawing-room door and stepped out into the hall, coming in search of her cousin, the low whispering without having attracted her attention.
"You heard what I said," cried Mary, quickly. "Why don't you go?"
"Stop!" said Claude, in a strangely altered voice.
"No, no, Claude, dear," said Mary, crossing to her. "It is nothing you need listen to. Only a wretched tattling from down on the beach."
"I know what they said," replied Claude, hoa.r.s.ely. "Sarah Woodham, have you heard this--this dreadful charge?"