Chapter LVI.

Otago Witness, Issue 1177, 20 June 1874, Page 23

Chapter LVI.

"EITHER I'll- BE THY SLAVE OR THY DESTROYER." Very grave was Mr. Bain's aspect as he rode back to. Monkhampton — the suppressed smile, a smile of lurking triumph, had vanished from his lips, and there wa» a look of settled purpose which augured ill for that person whom the steward deemed ' his enemy. He did ■ not draw rein at his house in the High-street, but rode further into the town, and stopped at another house, but a house with more pretension to grandeur than Mr. Bain » substantial and homely dwelling. This bouse stood a little way back from the street, and had a narrow shrubbery in front of it, guarded by iron railings, and wide gates right and left, and a semicircular gravel sweep for the accommodation of carriages. The dignity of this good old house, as an ancestral mansion, was somewhat compromised by a Bide door, which he had made on the left of the dining-room windows, a door adorned with a very large brass plate, and at night made conspicuous by a red lamp which burned above it. This was the abode of' that well-to-do citizen, Mr. Stimpson, the family practitioner. It was not long after two o'clock, the hour at which Mr. Stimpson regaled himself with a comfortable and substantial luncheon, washed down by a glass or so, perchance half a bottle, of his own particular dry sherry. Mr. Stimpson was a family man as well as a family doctor, but he had married late in life, and his habiti had been formed without reference to Mrs. Stimpson or the little Stimpsona. So while the wife and children had their noisy, boisterous meal in the dining-room, the doctor took his chop and his pint of sherry comfortably in his snuggery, where he could not be pestered by rude boya demanding potatoes, or shrill girls swamping the doubtfully-clean cloth with smau # Mr. Bain was lucky enough to find Mr. Stimpson still lingering over hia oozy little luncheon, trifling with a biscuit, and digging choice morsels out of the cavernous depths of a Stilton cheese, one of those choice Stiltons with which grateful patients oscasionally rewarded Mr. Stimpson I labours. , , "Sit down, Bain," he said, with friendly familiarity, " and help yourself to a glass of that sherry. No sugar there, sir {no brandy ; no suppressed gout or heartburn in that wine. Nothing wrong at home; I hope. You're looking pale. Misflßain keeps up pretty well under her heavy, responsibilities— admirable young lady, a pattern to all Monkhampton." . "Yes, my daughters are very well. They are good girls." # "Excellent girls, sir; first-rate girls j girls such as you don't meet now-a-days, said the doctor, bursting with enthusiainflt and with the air of knowing a good deal more about the Miss Bains than the father himself was aware of. "My family are well enough, I am happy to say," said Mr. Bain, after he had drunk a glass of the doctor's favourite sherry, an acrid fluid which seemed nearly related to some of the doctor's tonics. " I did not come to speak about them." "Not about yourself, I hope," exclaimed the dootor, running his eye over Mr. Bain with professional scrutiny, not uneager to detect the tokens of some chronic disease which would make Shadrach as profitable a patient as his wife had been. " Upon a much moro serious sutyeot than any ailment of mine." " Good heavens, Mr. Bain, you alarm me." " I shall give you better cause for alarm, perhaps, before I have done," said Mr. Bain, gravely. "Yo\i know what my position was with Sir Aubrey Perriam ? ' " One of entire confidence, I am aware."

" Yes, and of more than confidence, of affeotion. I served him, and I honoured him as I have never served or honoured any other man. I was proud to think of him as my master — from my boyhood I had made it the study of my life to watch his interests. After his paralytic seizure, I became, as you know, hia right hand. His helplessness drew us nearer together. I felt as if I were attending the decline of a beloved father." "Highly creditable to your heart and head," said the doctor, warmly, wondering what was the drift of these remarks, which seemed to lead nowhere in particular.

" You may remember that when you advised my taking my poor wife to Cannes, on the second occasion, I somewhat shrank from doing bo, though it is not my habit

to recoil from the performance of a duty, be it ever so onerous. The fact was that I did not like to leave my old friend and employer in his broken down condition. It may have been a foreboding ; perhaps even a warning intended to deter me ; but I certainly felt a profound disinclina-tion-to leave him, even for a few weeks. Judge, then, of my horror -when I returned and heard he was dead."

"A sad blow, doubtless," exclaimed Mr. Stimpson, wondering more and more at the drift of this lamentation.

"1 heard that he was dead— suddenly, unexpectedly snatched away. Before I returned he had been huddled into his grave." "Don't say huddled into his grave," protested Mr.. Stimpson, "the funeral, though strictly private, was performed in exceUent style. I attended it myself, remember. There was absolutely nothing wanting." ' ' Yes, there was one thing — an inquest upon the dead man." "An inquest? — qujfce uncalled r, my dear Bain. Granted Sir Aubrey's death came upon us somewhat unexpectedly at last, still it was not to be ranked among Budden deaths. He was a confirmed invalid, and in a condition in which he might go off at any moment without astonishing any medical man acquainted with his constitution. The heart had been feeble for a long time. I have very little doubt that the heart was the immediate cause of death."

"Don't you think a post mortem examination would have been better than speculation or theory upon such a question as that ? "

" A post mortem examination could not have brought Sir Aubrey back to life, and it would have given extreme pain to Lady Perriam."

' ' I perceive. You considered the living rather than the dead. "

" I could do nothing for the dead, # but I could spare useless and needless pain to the living," answered Mr. Stimpson, with offended dignity. He did not like to have his conduct questioned by Mr. Bair # "And you never tried to understand the cause of Sir Aubrey's death. You took it for granted that he died from heart disease."

"I did not say heart disease," said Mr. Stimpson, looking uncomfortable, "I only said that he had a weak heart. There was no organic disease." " How long had he been dead when you saw him ? "

"Some hours. I was not sent for till morning, and he died shortly after midnight. I found Lady Perriam in a fearful state of distress ; the shock had been almost fatal to her. If I had not thought more of the living than the dead at that time, she would have been in a brain fever, very likely, before the day was out." " You gave your attention, therefore, to the living patient, and did not trouble yourself about the dead ? " " There was nothing for me to do." "You made "no examination of the body ? " "To what end? I would not disturb the repose of the dead. Mrs. Carter had performed the necessary offices. Sir Aubrey's limbs had been composed in their last rest for some hours when I saw him."

"Oh, Mrs. Carter laid him out, did she 1 ? Where was his faithful old valet, Chapelain ? Why did not he assist in that last sad office ?

" He was confined to his bed by an attack of gout — a victim, I very much fear, to intenrparance. He left Perriam Place before the funeral, a thoroughly broken man, to go back to France, most liberally rewarded for his fidelity from her ladyship's own purse." " Sir Aubrey was much changed, I suppose ? You did not look at the face, perhaps ? " ' ' Yes, I looked at the face. The room was somewhat dark, but I did not perceive a change, a more marked change than death usually makes." "Did that give rise to no suspicion in your mind ? " "Good heavens, no. What suspicion could arise from it ? "

"That Sir Aubrey had not come by his death fairly." " Mr. Bain, are you mad '( " " I hope not, but I have brooded upon the subject of my employer's sudden, and, to my mind, mysterious death, until it has assumed an awful shape in my mind. Why were you not sooner summoned to that death-bed, why wero hours auffered to elapse, why was the corpse laid out before they took the trouble to send for you?" "I attribiite anything unusual in the circumstances to Lady Perriam's prostrate state at the time," said the doctor. " Well, perhaps I am wrong. Pray do not for a moment imagine that T suspect Lady Perriam. Not for the world would I harbour such a thought. She is doubtless as innocent as she is beautiful. Never did 1 hear Sir Aubrey utter a complaint against her. Never did I hear her repine t her lot. The person I suspect is Mrs.

Carter— that smooth, silent, time-server." "A singularly reserved person, I admit. But I cannot see what motive she could have for harming Sir Aubrey."

" She may have believed that his will had provided for her. In some moment of childishness he may have made her some promise which kindled avarice, and inspired wonder."

Mr. Stimpson brushed up his few grey hairs with an agitated movement of his hands till they literally stood on end. Very pale, very fearful looked Mr. Stimpson, as he clutched the decanter and poured out another glass of the dry sherry wherewith to fortify himself against the horror of Shadrach Bain's suggestion.

"I don't believe it," he exclaimed. " Why do you come here to alarm me with such a cock-and-bull story, simply because I respected the feelings of a refined and delicate lady, and took some trouble to save her the torture of a coroner's inquest ? What is your motive in coming here with your insinviations, Mr. Bain?"

" Simply to put you on your guard. I thought from the first that there was something wrong about Sir Aubrey's death. Oircumstanoes that have occurred of late have gone very far to confirm this opinion. I thought it my duty to warn you. In the event of any revelation some discredit might fall upon you — you might be accused of want of care. Take my advice, Mr. Stimpson, and not a word of this to any one till you hear more from me, or from some one else. Good day to you. I've some particular business to transact down street, and can't stop any longer."

"Mr. Bain — my dear Bain — for goodness sake be more explicit," cried the doctor piteously ; but Shadrach Bain had left the room before his appeal was finished, leaving the family practitioner in a state of collapse. " I think I've laid the train neatly there," the lawyer said to himself as he walked away from the surgeon's in the direction of the bank. "If Lady Perriam changes her mind, and comes into my way of thiDkiug, it will be easy enough to withdraw all 1 have said. If not, it is the beginning of the machine that shall destroy her." He went to the bank, paid in two or three small cheques which he had carried in hi 3 pocket for a week or two, and then asked if he could see Mr. Standen.

"Mr. Standen is not in Monkhampton. Would Mr. Philpotts do ? " argued the clerk.

"No. I wanted to see Mr. Standen himself, particularly. Will he be back in a day or two do you think ? " "I've no idea, but I'll ask Mr. Philpotts if you like. I dare say he knows," said the clerk civilly, anxious to oblige so good a customer, one who in some measure represented the Perriam estate. "Do, there's a good fellow, and if you can find out where he has gone I shall be doubly obliged." The clerk vanished into an inner room, and speedily reappeared, smiling. " Mr. Philpotts had a letter this morning, sir. Mr. Standen is not expected back just yet. He's at Antwerp." "At Antwerp?" " Yes sir ; on a tour, I suppose. His letter was from Antwerp. He might be leaving directly to go up the Rhine, but he wrote from the Hotel Peter Paul, Antwerp." " Thank you— that'll do. I'll write to him by this afternoon's post. I wanted to consult him about a little bit of land contiguous to the Dean House property. Good morning." Shadrach Bain went back to his own house. He knew all that Monkhampton could help him to discover. "At Antwerp," he thought ; "at Antwerp. The chances are that those two — Lady Perriam and Edmund Standen — are acting in concert, and that she has gone after him. Where else can she have gone ? She boldly avows her affection for him in her letter to me. She has gone to join him at Antwerp, to be married to him most likely, if I don't prevent it. But it'll be strange if I can't put a stop to that marriage. I wonder how often the steamers go to Antwerp? Stay, the quicker way would be to go from Dover to Ostend, and then on by rail. Yes, that Bhall be my route, and I must get to Dover in time for to-night's mail." The agent was a man prompt in action. He went to his office, gave verbal instructions and a page or so of written memoranda to his clerks, told them he had to go to Belgium on business for a few days, gave instructions as to the forwarding of letters and telegrams, packed his portmanteau, announced his departure to his astonished children, eat a mutton chop, though with the smallest inclination for that sustenance ; and was at the station in time for the 3.45 train, which reached London at a quarter to eight, time enough for him to catch the mail for Dover.

At midnight he was standing on the deck of the fast little steamer, speeding over moonlit waves in the balmy August air,

and meditating upon the course that lay before him.

He followed Sylvia Perriam with a settled purpose. If he failed to win her for his wife, he meant to denounce her. That which had been only a dark suspicion in his mind was now almost certainty.

It was his firm belief that Sir Aubrey Perriam had come to an untimely end at his wife's hands.

(To be continued.)