CHAPTER V
HONEYSUCKLE'S FOAL
It was New Year's Eve, and Eli Todd was passing through a series of varying emotions. A stranger watching him might, with considerable excuse, have put him down as a lunatic. No sooner was he comfortably seated in his armchair by the cosy fire than he jumped up again suddenly, seized his hat, and dashed out into the wintry night.
After a quarter of an hour's absence he returned, settled down again, commenced to doze and, waking with a start, rushed out of the house in the same erratic manner as before.
The cause of these proceedings on the part of Eli was the mare, Honeysuckle. Never was a man placed in such a predicament, all on account of a mare, as Eli Todd on this occasion. It wanted four hours to midnight, and every moment the studmaster expected Honeysuckle's foal would come forth into the cold and heartless world an hour or two before the New Year. It was enough to drive him to despair. This would in all probability be Honeysuckle's last foal, but the Squire had already made up his mind that "what's last is best."
Blissfully ignorant was the Squire of the throes of anxiety his trusty servant was enduring. It was his firm belief that Honeysuckle would not foal until the middle of January at the earliest, and Eli had not undeceived him.
"I do wish you would keep still and not worry yourself," said Mrs. Marley. "It can do no good, the mare will get on quite as well without you; leave it to nature."
"Much you know about it," grumbled Eli. "Leaving it to nature is all very well, but you ought to know that nature requires a little assistance at times."
"You never take advice," she replied.
"I do when it is good," was the effectual reply.
Again Eli Todd opened the door, and a cold blast struck him in the face. A light was burning in Honeysuckle's box across the yard, and he plodded through the snow to it.
His head man was inside sitting in a chair, looking drowsy, and nodding.
Eli thought he had better go to bed, and said he would take his place.
"I'll call you if I want you," he said, and the man thanked him as he went out.
Eli sat in the chair watching the old mare and frequently looking at his watch. He had never wished time to fly so rapidly before.
Honeysuckle was restless, and from time to time looked at him with her big, soft eyes in a most pathetic way.
"I can't do anything for you, old girl," he said. "But you can oblige me very much by staving off the great event until the clock has struck twelve. After that the sooner you are over your trouble the better."
Another half hour passed, and still found Eli wakeful and on guard.
A slight noise outside aroused him, and he listened attentively. "It sounded like a man walking, perhaps Joe has come back. I know he is as anxious as I am about her," muttered Eli.
A knock on the door made him start, and he said —
"Who's there?"
No answer. It was mysterious at this hour of the night.
He asked the question again, and the reply was another rap.
Picking up his stick, he cautiously opened the door and peered out. He saw a man, muffled up; standing a yard or two away. Something about the figure seemed familiar to him, and a peculiar sensation passed through his body, making his pulses tingle with anticipation.
"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" he asked.
"Have you forgotten me, Eli?"
The studmaster started back, exclaiming —
"My God, it's Mr. Ulick!"
"Yes, it's me, none other; may I come in?"
For answer Eli dropped his stick, took him by both hands, and dragged him into the box.
Ulick Maynard unbuttoned his coat and unwound the scarf around his neck. He was a tall, handsome man, with a clear, open countenance. It was the face of a man to be trusted, if ever there was one.
"I am glad to see you, but it's a strange time to come," said Eli. "Are you going up to the house?"
"No," was the emphatic reply. "I shall never go back to Hazelwell until my father asks my pardon for the insult he put upon me."
"You don't know how he has suffered since you left," said Eli. "He sat up all night on Tuesday. You know what date it was?"
"Yes; I left home on that night two years ago."
"And Mrs. Courtly came over from the Manor and stayed with him," said Eli.
"Irene," he said softly.
"Yes, and she told me the Squire would be a young man again if you came back."
"Do they still believe I wronged your daughter?"
Eli made no reply, he thought it better to keep silent, for he would not tell a lie or deceive him.
"I see," said Ulick, bitterly. "I am still the black sheep, a disgrace to the name. And you, what do you think?"
"No need to ask me, Mr. Ulick. You know what I think. I never believed you guilty, and I never will, no, not even if Janet accused you, because she would be forced to it by the man who led her astray," said Eli.
Ulick took his hand and shook it heartily.
"Thank you, Eli," he said. "I give you my solemn word I did not wrong Janet. We may have flirted a trifle, as a man will do with a pretty girl, but I never injured her by word or deed. Is she at home still?"
Eli looked at him curiously. He evidently had no idea Janet left her home the same night he went away from Hazelwell.
"My girl has been away from me for two years."
It was Ulick's turn to look surprised.
"You thought it better to send her away, no doubt?"
"I did not send her away."
"She left her home, ran away from you?"
"That's what happened."
"When did she go?"
"The same night you did."
"Good heavens! No wonder my father still believes me guilty. No doubt he thinks I went with her," said Ulick.
"He came to my house in a towering passion the morning after she left, and when he found out she had gone he was very bitter against you both. He said words he ought not to have said, but I am sure he repented them afterwards."
"Have you heard anything of her?"
"No," replied Eli. "Not a line from her."
"I wonder who took her away? I'd give a good deal to find out," said Ulick.
"And so would I. She must be in London, I think; it is a good place to hide in," said Eli.
"So I find. A man can bury himself in London without much fear of recognition."
"Have you been in London since you left Hazelwell?" asked Eli.
"Most of the time. I very seldom came across anyone I know. You see, I have money of my own, independent of my father, so it enables me to live comfortably."
"And what has brought you down here?" asked Eli.
"Curiosity, a desire to see the old place, call it what you will. I wanted to have a chat with you, and hear how my father was going on," said Ulick.
"You had better go and see him. I am sure he has suffered enough by your absence."
"And do you not think I have suffered? And it makes it none the easier to bear because it is unjust. Have you ever suspected any one?"
"You mean about Janet?"
"Yes."
"I would rather not say. I have no proof, and if I am right it would cause even more trouble than the suspicion about you did."
"Then you have some idea who the man is?"
"I have, but we will not talk of that. If everything comes to light, well and good, but I am not going to be the one to cause more unhappiness."
"You ought to tell me. I have a right to know."
"Granted, but you must forgive me if I decline to say anything. This much I may tell you, that if what I suspect is true it will bring shame and disgrace upon someone who is very dear to you," said Eli.
Ulick was astonished, and wondered if Eli really had any grounds for suspicion. He would think the matter over on his return to London; it might possibly afford him some clue. If he found out the real culprit he would be able to judge what was best to be done. It was no use questioning Eli further.
"Old Honeysuckle looks in rather a bad way," he said, changing the subject, for which Eli was very thankful.
Eli explained the situation to him, and Ulick, looking at his watch, said —
"It only wants half an hour to midnight; we have been talking a long time. I'll stay with you and see it through. There is no danger of the Squire suddenly coming down?"
"Not at this hour, I am glad to say. He thinks there is no cause for anxiety. But will you not come into the house? Mrs. Marley has gone to bed, and we shall not be disturbed," said Eli.
"Let us remain here until it is all over," replied Ulick, and he sat down on the straw.
"Take this chair," said Eli.
"I prefer to be here, it is more comfortable."
It was a quiet night, and the light wind was blowing from the village of Helton.
Honeysuckle was in considerable pain, and they both watched her with anxious eyes, knowing what a vast difference a few minutes would make.
"There's the church clock at Helton striking," said Eli, as he opened the door of the box. He gave a sigh of relief when the last stroke of twelve came. The bells pealed forth a welcome to the New Year, and the old year, with all its joys and sorrows, was gone for ever. What would the New Year bring forth?
"This was a curious way of seeing the Old Year out and the New Year in," said Ulick, smiling.
A quarter of an hour after midnight Honeysuckle's troubles were over, and a fine colt foal had come into the world almost at the sound of the church bells.
"We must make a note of this," said Eli, putting down the date and hour of foaling.
"I shall not forget it," said Ulick. "If there happened to be any dispute my father would be rather surprised if I was called as a witness."
"Go across to my cottage," said Eli. "I'll ring Joe up, there is no occasion for you to see him."
"I will wait outside the gate for you," said Ulick, as he went across the yard.
Leaving Joe in charge, with strict injunctions to call him at once if wanted, Eli hurried after Ulick, and, opening the door, led him into the room where he had an interview with Janet the night they both left home.
Ulick sank into a chair tired out, and soon fell asleep.
Eli stood looking on him with a sorrowful expression on his face.
"I wish he'd go and see the Squire," he said to himself. "There would be a reconciliation between them, I am sure; but Mr. Ulick is as proud and stubborn as his father when he knows he is in the right. He looks a trifle older, but not much. It's a blessing he does not lack for money. I wonder what he has been doing with his time, racing probably – it runs in the blood. He never was a great gambler; I hope he has not taken to it to kill time and drown his feelings."
Eli was accustomed to night watches, and did not go to sleep. He locked the door so that no one could intrude, and about four o'clock he roused Ulick and asked him to have something to eat.
"The cold and long walk made me drowsy," he said, with a yawn. "I acknowledge to feeling hungry, likewise thirsty. If you have any cold meat; that will do, and some of your noted beer."
"I suppose you wish to keep this visit a secret?" asked Eli.
"Yes; it has done me good to run down to the old place. I shall try and find out Janet when I get back to town. You have no objection, I suppose?"
"On the contrary, I hope you will find her. If you do, try and induce her to come home."
"I'll bring her myself if I can," said Ulick. "They think we went away together, so we may as well return together; but she will have to give me the name of the man who has caused all the trouble."
He ate ravenously, and Eli was pleased to see him make such a hearty meal.
"I must be going now," said Ulick. "You will not tell anyone I have been here."
"No. Which way are you going?"
"I shall walk to Haydon Station and catch the early train to London. I got out there; there is a new station-master, he does not know me."
"That's more than ten miles," said Eli.
"It will do me good. I have not done much country walking lately."
"Will you leave me your address in town, I will take care no one sees it?" asked Eli.
Ulick wrote on a sheet in his pocket-book, and handed it to Eli, saying, "That address will always find me, no matter whether I am in London or otherwise. I always have my letters sent on, even if I am only away for a few days at a race meeting."
"Then you go in for racing?" said Eli, smiling.
"Yes, I have attended many meetings since I left Hazelwell."
"Do you bet?"
Ulick laughed, as he replied, "Sometimes, but I know too much about it to risk large sums. Between you and me, Eli, I own a couple of horses, one I daresay you have heard of, his name is the Saint."
"You own the Saint!" exclaimed Eli; "why, he was about the best of the two-year-olds last season."
"He was, and he will not be far off being the best of the three-year-olds this season. I bought him for a reasonable figure. Of course, you know his breeding: by Father Confessor out of Hilda. I hope to win some good races with him. He runs in the assumed name of Mr. Lanark. I hope when brighter days have dawned he will come to Hazelwell. It would rather surprise the Squire if he knew he belonged to me."
Ulick went into the hall and put on his coat.
"We might ride part of the way," said Eli.
"It's better for me to walk," replied Ulick, and added, "I will let you know if I hear anything of Janet, and will try and persuade her to come home."
"Thank you, Mr. Ulick, and if you do come across her, tell her home is the best place for her, and that I shall never remind her of what has happened."
"And you still have faith in me?" asked Ulick, smiling, as he shook hands.
"Yes, and always shall have, as I told you before," said Eli, who watched him until he disappeared in the darkness, and wondered at the strange chance that brought him to Hazelwell the night Honeysuckle's foal was born.
CHAPTER VI
A WILY YOUNG MAN
In a small, but comfortably-furnished house at Feltham, lived Mrs. Hoffman and her son, Felix. She was not a widow, but her husband had left her some years before. At that time her son was seventeen, now he was five-and-twenty, and a sore trial and trouble to her. Felix Hoffman was one of many men who prefer idleness to work, and he took good care not to find any suitable employment. It troubled his mother that he was seldom short of money. How did he obtain it? Not by work of any kind, of that she was certain. Once or twice she questioned him as to how he made sufficient to supply his wants, which were by no means few or inexpensive, but he always flew into a passion on such occasions, and his attitude became so threatening that she forebore to make further inquiries.
Felix Hoffman was not bad looking. He had a Jewish cast of features, black curly hair, and a fierce moustache of the same colour. His eyes were dark brown, shifty and uncertain, and when he conversed he seldom looked his companion in the face.
He did not resemble his mother in the least; she was English, and married Milas Hoffman when quite a girl. Had she been more experienced in the ways of the world he would have had but little chance of winning her. A few months after their marriage she found out her mistake. Milas Hoffman called himself a travelling jeweller. He certainly went about the country with a case packed with glittering ornaments, which he disposed of on most advantageous terms to servant girls, young grooms, and others of the same class in different countries. His profits were large, and he made a very fair income out of the gullibility of his customers. He became more daring in his transactions, and at last came within the grasp of the law. Not wishing to face the charges of swindling brought against him, he left England, and his wife had never heard of him since. She did not mourn over his desertion. She had sufficient money by her to carry on for a time, and she fixed her hopes upon her son Felix. They were doomed to be rudely shattered when he coolly told her there were plenty of ways of making money without working for it. What those ways were he failed to tell her, but it saddened her to see that he was right, and he drew supplies from sources she felt sure she could not approve of.
Felix Hoffman met many men in London in very different positions in life to himself. He was a frequenter of racecourses, one of the undesirables whose presence gives the sport a bad name, and its enemies a handle wherewith to pump obloquy upon all connected with it, the just and the unjust. At first he was a bookmaker's tout, and rushed about the ring watching the fluctuation of the odds, scenting out stable commissions and repeating the same to his employer with lightning speed. It was seldom the bookmaker was let in for a big bet "over the odds" when Felix Hoffman was hovering about with hawk-like keenness. The said bookmaker, whose sham diamonds were the envy of the uninitiated, became so impressed with the fertile resources of Felix Hoffman that he actually ventured to take him into partnership "in the book." This was a grave mistake, for in a very short time the versatile Felix had transformed the firm, and his name alone figured on the bag and tickets. The members of Tattersall's smiled; many of them had seen these mysterious changes before and knew what it meant. Felix Hoffman, in his turn, made a mistake. He handed over the "bag" to two men he fancied he could trust, and proceeded to back horses on his own account. He saw no reason why, with his skill in scenting out commissions and spotting genuinely-backed horses, he should not be able to lay the losers and back the winners. Better men than Felix had endeavoured to accomplish this feat before, and come lamentably to grief, and he followed them into the same quandary. It puzzled Felix not a little to find out the cause of his failure. He had not yet learned that to be successful on the turf a man must be either a backer or a layer, but not both, and in the one capacity a good share of luck must be his to succeed.
Warren Courtly was fond of racing, especially "chasing," and during the off-season he was frequently seen at meetings round London. Even the attractions of the hunting field could not, on many occasions, lure him from the racecourse. Irene knew he frequented such places, but she had no idea of the extent of his gambling transactions, or they would have appalled her. She thought his statement that the Anselm Manor estates required a good deal of looking after was an excuse for his visits to London, but, as a matter of fact, he was correct in his assertion. Everything he could mortgage he did, and even the Manor itself had sundry charges upon it, which he found it difficult to meet. The racecourse is a rare levelling ground, and men of very different types fraternise together with a freedom never seen elsewhere. Warren Courtly had noticed Felix Hoffman's energy in ferreting out information, and on more than one occasion had taken the trouble to find out whether he was right or wrong. In this way he gathered that his advice was generally good. He approached him one day at Hurst Park, and asked his advice about Milander in a hurdle race.
Felix Hoffman was not at all surprised at a stranger speaking to him about such matters. He eyed Warren Courtly over, and came to the conclusion it would pay him to tell him all he knew. As luck would have it, he did know Milander was a very fair thing for the hurdle race.
"I'll make it worth your while if it wins," said Warren.
"What will you put me on?"
"I will lay you the odds to a fiver."
"Milander has a very good chance. Dyer rides him, and he told me, bar accident, he would win. I think you can back him for a good stake."
"Meet me here after the race," said Warren, and walked out of the paddock into the ring.
"He's a real swell," thought Felix. "He may come in useful."
Milander won comfortably, and started at the remunerative odds of five to one. Warren Courtly won a good stake, and handed Felix "a pony," the winnings on the five pounds he put on for him.
"I'd give Dyer something, sir, if I were you," said Felix. "He's not a bad sort, and generally tells me when he has a chance."
"Give him this," said Warren, handing Felix a ten-pound note.
"Shall I see you again, sir?"
"I am often at these meetings. If you know anything, come and tell me, and I will see you are a gainer thereby."
It was in this way Warren Courtly became acquainted with Felix Hoffman, who later on helped him in another way, which did not redound to his credit, and which eventually gave that wily young man a hold over the master of Anselm Court.
Mrs. Hoffman was surprised one day when her son brought Warren Courtly down to Feltham. She wondered how Felix became acquainted with him, and still more why his friend condescended to associate with him. She knew her son was not at all a desirable companion for a man of Warren Courtly's stamp.
Felix introduced him as Mr. Warren. "A gentleman I have frequently met on the racecourse, mother; he wishes to consult you on a private matter, and I hope you will agree to his request."
Mrs. Hoffman was surprised, but expressed her readiness to hear what he had to tell her.
"It is rather a delicate matter," commenced Warren, when Felix left the room; "the fact of the matter is, I am anxious to find a comfortable home for my wife until my father can be informed of our marriage. He is very much set against it because the lady is hardly in the same set as ourselves. I have married for love, but that is no reason why I should forfeit the many advantages I now have, and which I should certainly lose if my father found out I was married. My wife is young and pretty, and would, I am sure, cause very little trouble in a house. I asked your son if he knew of any place where I could leave her, in or near London, and he said he had no doubt his mother would be pleased to have her, and he was quite certain would make her comfortable. If you have no objection, Mrs. Hoffman, I should like my wife to have rooms here, and I am sure I could rely upon you to treat her kindly, and be a companion to her."
Mrs. Hoffman was not at all displeased at this proposal, but she foresaw one danger, and that was Felix. She knew him to be utterly unscrupulous, and feared his influence over a young married woman living apart from her husband, for that was what it meant. However, she would take very good care he had no opportunities of making himself objectionable to her.
Warren Courtly noticed the hesitation, and said, "I do not think there will be any trouble over the terms. I know very little about these matters, but if you will make a suggestion I will consider it."
Mrs. Hoffman had no intention of asking too little. Her experience of life had taught her much, and she had her doubts as to the truth of the story she had heard. Still, that was none of her business, and she meant to do her duty by the girl when she came to her house.
"Would three guineas a week be too much, sir? There may be a few extras, which I suppose you would not mind paying for?"
"That is reasonable," said Warren, who had expected a higher figure, "and I hope you will do all in your power to make Mrs. Warren comfortable."
"I can safely promise you that, and that I shall be very pleased to have someone in the house, for my son is generally away from home. When may we expect you, sir?"
Warren named the date, and she replied —
"That is quite close to Christmas. Shall you stay here during that week, if so I will prepare for you?"
"I am sorry to say I shall be away; my father will expect me to be at home with the rest of the family," said Warren.
In due course, Warren arrived at Mrs. Hoffman's house at Feltham with Janet Todd, and she had been there two years living under the name of Mrs. Warren.
Seven or eight months after he had found Janet a home with Mrs. Hoffman, Warren married Irene Carstone, and considered he had done his duty by Janet, and that this discreditable action in his life was closed.
It troubled him when he heard Ulick Maynard was looked upon as the wrongdoer, but he had not the manliness or the courage to confess, and thus place the blame upon his own shoulders.
It was a strange coincidence, he thought, that the Squire should have made this accusation against Ulick on the same night he had planned to take Janet away. He had not much difficulty in persuading her to go, and he knew she was fully convinced he would marry her. This did not trouble him much, his anxiety was to get her away from Hazelwell, because he had at that time made up his mind to marry Irene, if she would have him.
Fate played into his hands, and worked everything smoothly for him. When he heard from Janet that Ulick had been at her father's, and told her the Squire had accused him of being the cause of her misfortune, Warren was astounded. He saw at once how Janet's flight would confirm the Squire's charge, and that everyone would believe she had left her home with Ulick.
"What did he say to you?" asked Warren.
Janet hung her head, and her cheeks became crimson.
"Tell me what he said," Warren asked, sharply.
"He was very angry, and said I deserved to be thrashed for bringing disgrace upon my father; as for myself, it was no more than I deserved. He asked me who had got me into trouble."
"You did not tell him?" said Warren, anxiously.
"How can you ask such a question? Of course I did not tell him."
"That's a good girl, Janet; you must always keep our secret."
"That depends upon how you treat me," she replied, and at this answer Warren Courtly commenced to see it might not be all plain sailing with her.
"Did Mr. Maynard tell you he was suspected of being the cause of your trouble?"
"Yes, and I offered to write to his father and tell him it was untrue, but he was very angry and forbade me doing so, saying his father ought to have known him better, and that he must find out the truth for himself," said Janet.
Warren was relieved at this. He knew Ulick Maynard had a proud, stubborn disposition, and that his father's suspicions would sting him to the quick. It was not at all likely he would ask Janet to prove his innocence, and when she was at Feltham he would have but little chance of finding her, even if he changed his mind.
They arrived in London, and went from Waterloo to Feltham.
"Remember, you are Mrs. Warren," he said, "and do not let anyone find out where you come from. Mrs. Hoffman you will like, but her son is a scamp, and you will do well to avoid him."
Mrs. Hoffman soon grew very fond of Janet, and the girl reciprocated the motherly feelings thus shown. She was not unhappy, but she would have been more contented had Warren allowed her to write to her father and tell him all was well with her. This, however, he strictly forbade; he did not wish her to have any communication with Hazelwell.
The first serious quarrel took place when Warren told her he was to marry Irene Carstone.
Janet wept, and then flew into a rage, vowing she would write to her father, the Squire, and Irene, and confess all. He dare not leave her for a week, and during that time he used all his persuasive powers to calm her, and at times resorted to threats, which she only laughed at.
Eventually he took Mrs. Hoffman into his confidence, and discovered that she had suspected the truth all along.
"I wish you would use your influence with her," he said; "I am quite willing to make her a good allowance, and also settle a sum of money upon her, provided she holds her tongue."
Mrs. Hoffman promised she would do all that lay in her power to bring Janet to a proper frame of mind. She really liked her, and thought she was far happier as she was than if she had married Warren.
She succeeded in her endeavour, but Janet was mercenary when it came to terms with Mr. Courtly. She was determined to have adequate remuneration for all she had lost, and the deception he had practised on her. He grumbled at her demands, but she was firm, and as there was no other way out of the difficulty, except exposure, he gave in.
Janet knew her power over him, and his marriage with Irene materially increased it.
"I wonder what she would do if she knew all?" thought Janet.