"We have come to consult you upon a matter of much importance, my dear madam," he said; "and we hope you will give us what assistance you can."
"Anything that is in my power, sir," replied the landlady, flattered by the courtesy of so well-looking a young man as Felix; "I am sure I shall be most happy."
"We do not wish it talked about," continued Felix; "so suppose we agree that it shall be a secret between us, taking your husband into our confidence, of course."
The landlady expressed her acquiescence, her curiosity growing.
"It will take the form of questions, I am afraid," observed Felix.
"You've only to ask, sir," said the amiable woman; "and I'll answer, if I can."
"There was a cab waiting at your door at about half-past nine o'clock to-night, was there not?"
"There have been three or four waiting, on and off."
"But there was one in particular, from the livery-stables near here, with the driver Thompson, a man with a crooked nose and a hare-lip. He came in here to drink with a mate from the yard."
"Yes, he did," was the ready reply. "There's no mistaking Thompson, once you set eyes upon him."
"Can you tell us who hired that cab?"
"I should say it was the gentleman who was about the house for an hour or more, and who was in this parlour for more than ten minutes talking with-with – " But her eyes lighted upon Old Wheels, who was listening with strained attention to every word that passed, and she hesitated.
"Talking with whom?" inquired Felix quickly. "With a gentleman?"
"No," with another hesitating look towards Old Wheels; "with a lady."
"A young lady?"
"Yes."
"Do not hesitate to answer, there's a good creature. You know who the lady is, evidently."
"Yes; but I would rather not say. If you like to mention who you think it is, I'll tell you, if you're right."
"Was it this gentleman's granddaughter?" asked Felix, hazarding the guess.
Old Wheels held his breath.
"Yes, it was," answered the landlady, reluctantly. "There! you shouldn't have forced it out of me! Look at the old gentleman!"
A deadly pallor had come over his face, and he could scarcely stand.
"You must not give way, sir," said Felix, with grave tenderness; "everything depends upon your keeping your strength. Bear in mind that this is what we have come to hear, and that we are approaching nearer and nearer to the unravelling of the plot. And remember, too, dear sir, that I have almost as great a stake in the discovery as you have yourself. There has been foul play, as you suggested; but something assures me that all will come right, and that our dear girl will be restored to us is a few hours. But not if we're not strong. Remember-we are working together for Lily's safety."
His tone was so tender that tears came into the landlady's eyes.
"I will tell you all I know," she said, addressing herself to Felix. "The young lady came in here, and asked me if she could have the use of the parlour for a few minutes, undisturbed. She wanted to speak to the gentleman who came in the cab. They were in the parlour for ten minutes, then they went away together in the cab."
"Thank you, thank you, a thousand times. See, sir, how near we are coming; Now, this gentleman-who was he?"
"I am sure I don't know, sir; I never set eyes on him before to-night."
Felix thought of Alfred, and described his personal appearance. No, it wasn't him, said the landlady. Then Felix described Mr. Sheldrake, and she answered that it was the very man.
Felix drew a long breath; he was almost at the end of the inquiry. One other question remained to be asked. Did she know what direction the cab had taken? No, she didn't know; but she would call the potman in; he was outside all the time. The potman was called in, and being refreshed with a drink and a shilling, remembered, after much circumlocution, that he heard the gentleman tell Thompson to drive towards Epsom.
"Nearer and nearer," said Felix, grasping the old man's hand. "Now, potman, is there anything else you know. Another shilling, if you can remember anything else."
The potman scratched his head.
"There's the shilling," said Felix, in a hearty tone, giving the man the coin, "whether you can remember or not."
"You're a gentleman, sir," said the potman; "I don't remember anything else; but there's Dick Maclean, perhaps he can tell something."
The public-house was empty at this time, and the bar was cleared.
"Run out, Tom," said the landlady, excitedly, "and if you see him bring him in." The potman ran out at the back door. The landlady explained. "Dick has been drinking here all night, sir. You bring to my mind that I saw the gentleman who was here with the young lady give him some money."
They had not to wait a very long time for Dick Maclean. He was the man who had begged for more beer, and the potman found him outside entreating through the keyhole for "just another pint." He was fairly drunk, but upon the landlady promising him that other pint, and telling him that the gentleman wanted him to earn half-a-crown simply by answering a question or two, he pulled himself together, and endeavoured to earn it. The skilful manner in which Felix put these questions caused the landlady to ask admiringly if he was a lawyer. Felix stopped his questioning to answer, "No;" and the landlady said, To be sure! How could he be? He wasn't dried-up enough. When the cross-examination was over, they had learnt all. Of Mr. Sheldrake giving Dick Maclean a letter to take to Lily, and of the instruction that he was to give it to the young lady in secret, and to tell her, if he found any difficulty in delivering it, that it was a matter of life or death to some one whom she loved; of the young lady accompanying him to the True Blue to see Mr. Sheldrake; of their going into the public-house together; of their coming out together; of the young lady giving him a letter to deliver to Mr. Wheels, and giving him a sixpence to deliver it; of her getting into the cab, and of his going into the True Blue for just another pint before he went with the letter; of Mr. Sheldrake coming after him, and telling him that the young lady had altered her mind, and didn't want the letter delivered; of his getting a shilling for that; and that was all.
It was enough. It was as clear as day to Felix. The potman and Dick being sent out of the room, Felix said that what they wanted now was a light trap and a smart horse. Now thoroughly enthusiastic in the cause, the landlady said they had in their stables the lightest trap and the smartest trotting mare out of London.
"You're a kind creature," said Felix, shaking hands with her. "Will you trust us with it?"
That she would, and with a dozen of them, if she had them. The landlord assented.
"Now what shall I leave with you as security?" asked Felix. "Here are four five-pound notes, here is my watch and chain – "
The landlady rejected them enthusiastically. She only wanted two things as security-his name and his word. He gave them, and thanked her heartily again and again. While the smartest trotting mare out of London was being harnessed, Old Wheels looked at Felix, wistfully, earnestly, humbly. Felix understood him. He put his arm round the old man's shoulder, and said, in a tone of infinite tenderness,
"Dear sir, I never loved Lily as I love her now. I never trusted her as I trust her now. Dear girl! Pure heart! When I lose my faith in her, may I lose my hope of a better life than this!"
His face lighted up as he uttered these words. The old man pressed him in his arms, and sobbed upon his shoulder. The landlady turned aside to have a quiet cry in the corner.
"You're a good young fellow," she said, in the midst of her indulgence, "and I'm glad you came to me."
Before five minutes had passed, they were in the lightest trap and behind the smartest trotting mare out of London, ready to start.
"Here!" cried the landlady. And running to the wheels, she handed up a great parcel of sandwiches and a bottle of brandy. "It's the right stuff," she said, between laughing and crying. "Our own particular!"
The next minute they were on the road to Epsom.
CHAPTER XLV
HOW MR. SHELDRAKE PLAYS HIS GAME
Mr. David Sheldrake was a cool calculating rogue, and was by no means of a sufficiently romantic or daring turn to plan and to carry out an abduction. If Lily had decided not to accompany him, he would, with an ill grace, have abided by her decision. The qualities of his mind were pretty evenly balanced, and he had no intention of placing himself in danger. What Lily did she did deliberately, and with her own free-will, and every move in the little game that he had played was testimony in his favour. Lily had come to him, had made it appear, by asking the landlady of the True Blue for the use of her parlour, that it was she who desired to confer privately with him, had smiled when she left the public house, and had voluntarily entered the cab which was conveying them along the Epsom road. He could prove that he had been a friend to her brother, and, according to the logic of figures, a heavy loser by him; he could prove that he had been on intimate terms with Lily, and that she had accepted favours from him. So far all was well. But, going a point farther, Mr. Sheldrake, carefully considering the position as the cab drove along, was puzzled. He had not definitely settled upon the next step. He had, in a vague manner, decided that to bring the brother and sister together-to make Lily clearly understand the desperate position in which Alfred was placed-and then to say to her, "And I am the only man that can save your brother" – would be a fine thing for him. Setting aside the dramatic effect of the situation (Mr. Sheldrake, having an eye for dramatic effect, had thought of that), it would undoubtedly place him in a good light. But then, on what terms would he consent to save her brother? It was at this point he paused, and said to himself that he must consider seriously what was the best thing he could do; and while he was considering he heard Lily's voice calling to him. He bade the driver stop, and he alighted and went to the cab-door.
"Have we much farther to go, Mr. Sheldrake?" she asked, in a weak imploring tone.
"No, not a great way."
"I thought we should have been in London before now; but the road is strange to me; I do not recognise it."
"It is the road to Epsom," he explained. "I told you, if you remember, that your brother could not come home."
"Yes; but I thought you meant he could not come from London; he went straight to his office from us this morning."
"No, he did not, Lily; he went to the Epsom races."
She uttered a sharp cry of pain.
"O, why could he not have confided in me? Why did he deceive us?"
"I supposed you knew," said Mr. Sheldrake gently; "I had no reason for supposing otherwise."
"I don't blame you, Mr. Sheldrake – "
"Thank you, Lily," he said. Kind words from her were really pleasant to him.
"But I am frightened of being on this road alone."
"Not alone; I am here to protect you."
Her tears fell fast.
"If I had known-if I had known!" she murmured, in great distress of mind. She had been thinking of Felix and her grandfather, and of their unhappiness at her absence. But there was some small comfort for her in the thought that she had written to them, and had explained as far as she dared.
"If you had known!" repeated Mr. Sheldrake gravely. "Do you mean that if you had known, you would not have come? Surely you cannot mean that, Lily! When I parted from your brother this afternoon, he was flying to hide himself from the danger which threatens him, and from which only we can save him. And of course I thought you knew where he was. If there has been deceit, it has not been on my part. And even at this stage, I cannot submit to be placed in a false light, or to be misjudged. I have endeavoured to make you acquainted with the unhappy position of affairs; in the state of mind in which I left your brother, I would not answer for it that he would not commit any rash act. But if you cannot trust me, you have but to say the word, and we will go back, and I will leave you within a dozen yards of your grandfather's door."
"No, no!" she cried. She was, indeed, almost helpless in this man's hands. "We will go on; I must see him and save him, if I can."
"You trust me, then," he said eagerly.
She was constrained to reply "Yes;" but when he took her hand, which was resting on the sash, and kissed it, she shivered as though she had been drawn into an act of disloyalty to Felix. Mr. Sheldrake had made up his mind by the time he had resumed his seat on the box: he would marry Lily-there was nothing else for it. "I'll sow my wild oats and settle down," he thought, as he lit a cigar; "a man must marry at some time or other, and it's almost time for me to be thinking of it. I couldn't do better; she's innocent and pretty, and-everything that's good; and she's not a girl that will impose on a man, like some of those who know too much." Then he fell a-thinking of the wives of his friends, and how superior Lily was in every way to any of them. "She'll do me credit," he thought. He was dimly conscious that Lily entertained a tender feeling for Felix; but that this would fade utterly away in the light of his own magnanimous offer he did not entertain a doubt. He mused upon the future in quite a different mood from that he was accustomed to; for the purifying influence of Lily's nature made itself felt even in his heart, deadened as it had been all his life to the higher virtues. And now they were nearing the end of their journey. In the distance could be seen the fires of the gipsy camps; the cold wind came sweeping over the downs. The best thing he could do, he thought, would be to stop at an inn; he knew of a quiet one, out of the town, where it was likely they would not be noticed; and he would leave Lily alone for a few minutes, and, on the pretence of going out to seek for Alfred, he would go to the Myrtle-the inn at which he had desired Mr. Musgrave to put up-and see if the old man was there. Then he would come back to Lily, and tell her they would not be able to see Alfred until the morning. There would be a little scene, perhaps, but he would be able to smooth matters over.
By the time he had matured this plan, the cab drove up to the door of the inn. It was not yet midnight, and Mr. Sheldrake had no difficulty in obtaining admission. As they entered, and walked upstairs into a private room which Mr. Sheldrake ordered, Lily looked about, expecting to see Alfred. Mr. Sheldrake, attentively observing her, knew the meaning of those searching glances, and, against his reason, was mortified by the reflection that he occupied no place in her thoughts.
"You had best take off your things, Lily," he said awkwardly, and, seeming not to notice the look of sudden distrust and surprise which came into her face at his words, proceeded, "It is chilly, but we will soon have a fire, and be comfortable."
Either his words, or the tone of familiarity in which they were spoken, came like a cold wind upon Lily's fevered senses. Felix seemed to stand before her, and to warn her against this man. But although, in the light of these new impressions, a veil seemed to be falling from before her sight, and although love for Felix, and the responsibilities it conveyed to her heart, gave her strength, the shock was too great and unexpected for her to find words to answer Mr. Sheldrake immediately.
"I will order some supper, Lily. Is there anything particular that you would like?"
She steadied herself, resting her hand upon the table.
"Where is Alfred?" she asked, in a voice that was firm, despite its tremulousness. "Where is Alfred?"
Mr. Sheldrake was discomposed by her unusual manner.
"Alfred is not here, Lily."
"Not here!" she echoed. "For what reason, then, have we stopped here?"
Mr. Sheldrake felt the difficulty of the situation, and, with an embarrassment which he strove in vain not to express, proceeded to explain. But disconcerted by the steady gaze with which she regarded him, he stumbled over his words, and for once in his life his assurance failed him. Had he been at his ease, and had he spoken with his usual plausibility, he might still have been successful in deceiving her; but he had betrayed himself, and it came upon her like a flash of light that he had set a trap for her. She waited until he had finished speaking, and then said, with an utter disregard of his explanation,
"You asked me to come with you to see my brother. Bring him to me."
"That is what I intend, Lily," he said, biting his lips; "I will go and search for him. But you want rest and refreshment first."
She stopped his farther speech.
"I want neither. I am here to see my brother. Bring him to me."
Amazed and confounded by the resolution of her manner, he hesitated. He could not leave her in the strange mood that had come upon her; he must strive to leave more favourable impression behind him. But the words he wished to utter for the purpose of quieting and assuring her would not come to his lips. As he hesitated, Lily stepped quickly to the window, and throwing it open, looked out.
"What are you looking for?" he asked, stepping towards her.
A sudden cry, almost hysterical, escaped from her, and she turned swiftly and confronted him.
"I am looking for the cab," she said, her cheeks flushing, showing such distrust of him by the action of her hands that he shrugged his shoulders, and sat down at a little distance from her. He had quietly ordered the driver to take the cab to the Myrtle Inn, and put up there; but he knew that, even if the cab were still at the door, she could not see it, for the window of the room looked out upon the back of the inn. As Lily leaned out of the window, Mr. Sheldrake fancied he heard a voice without, but he set it down to the account of some toper going from the inn; in another moment, however, he did hear Lily's voice, but could not distinguish what she said. He started up with a jealous exclamation, and as he did so, Lily closed the window, and sank into a chair in a fit of hysterical weeping.
"Why can you not trust me?" he asked, bending over her tenderly. "You are over-wrought and over-excited. To whom were you speaking?"
She calmed herself by a great effort:
"The man said he could not see anything of the cab," she answered; "nor could I. It is gone."
"The driver has put up his horse, I suppose. It is a long drive, remember, and the horse must be tired."
A knock came at the door, and the landlady entered.
"Do you stop here to-night, sir?" she inquired.
"Yes," he said.
"No," said Lily firmly. "This gentleman does not stop here to-night."
A threatening look came into his eyes.
"Wait outside a minute," he said to the landlady. The landlady obeyed, and Mr. Sheldrake closed the door. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded of Lily, in a husky voice, almost throwing off his disguise.
"Can you ask me? You have brought me here to see my brother on a matter of life or death. I cannot rest until I see him. Have you no pity for my anxiety? Do you know where Alfred is?"
"Yes," he was compelled to reply. "I will go and bring him to you. Will that satisfy you?"
"You know it will. But promise me one thing."
"You can't ask me anything, Lily, that I will not promise," he said, hailing this small token of confidence with gladness.
"Give me your sacred word of honour that you will not return here to-night unless my brother is with you."
He felt that he had no alternative; but the fear that she wished to escape from him was upon him. In the light of this fear she became more than ever precious in his eyes. Urged to the desperate declaration, he said,
"Lily, listen to me. You know that I love you-that I love you honourably."
"If you do," she interrupted bravely, but with her hand on her heart, "you cannot hesitate to give me the promise I ask."
"But you! What will you do?"
"I shall stop here in the hope of seeing my brother."
"I can depend on that? You will stop here to-night?"
"I will-by all that I hold dear!"
"And if I am unsuccessful in finding Alfred to-night, you will see me in the morning?"
"Yes."
"Well, then, I promise you," he said gaily: "I will show you that you can trust me thoroughly. Good-night, Lily."
He held her hand tenderly in his for a moment, and deemed it prudent to say no more.
"Little witch!" he murmured, as he walked away from the inn. "I was afraid she was going to turn upon me. But I have her safely now, I think!"