While he was speaking, Ernshaw noticed that Dora turned deadly pale.
When dinner was over Sir Arthur announced that he was going round for an hour to see Sir G.o.dfrey Raleigh on a little Indian business. Dora felt now that her opportunity had come. It was a terrible thing to do, and yet, all things considered, present, and to come, she felt that it was her plain duty to do it, and not to permit this ghastly deception to go on any longer. Her soul revolted at the thought of Sir Arthur and Vane, Carol"s half-brother, going to the Abbey and being received as friends by Sir Reginald Garthorne. Knowing what she did, it seemed to her too hideous to be thought of, and so when Vane asked jestingly what they were going to do to amuse themselves, she got up, looking very white, and said, in a voice that had a note almost of terror in it:
"Mr. Maxwell, there is something I want to say to you; something that I must say to you. I cannot say it to you and Mr. Ernshaw together; it is bad enough to say it even to you, but when I have said it, you will be able to talk it over and try what is best to be done. I want to tell it to you first, because it concerns you most."
"By all means," said Vane, looking at her with wonder in his eyes, "come into the library. Ernshaw, I know, will excuse us; put on a pipe, and get yourself some whiskey and soda. Now, Miss Russell," he said, as he opened the door for her, "I"m at your service."
They left the room, and Ernshaw lit his pipe and sat down to speculate as to the cause of Dora"s somewhat singular request, but fifteen minutes had not pa.s.sed before the door was thrown open, and she came in white to the lips and shaking from head to foot, and said:
"Mr. Ernshaw, come, please, quick. Mr. Maxwell is ill, in a fit, I think. I have had to tell him something very dreadful, and it has been too much for him."
Ernshaw jumped up without a word and ran into the library. Vane was lying in a low armchair and half on the floor, his body rigid, his hands clenched, his eyes wide open and sightless, and a slight creamy froth was streaked round his lips.
"A fit!" said Ernshaw. "You must have given him some terrible shock. Run and fetch Koda Bux and we will get him to bed; then tell a servant to go for Doctor Allison; we will have him round all right before Sir Arthur comes back."
In a couple of minutes Vane was on his bed, and Koda Bux had opened his teeth and was dropping drop by drop, a green, syrupy fluid into his mouth, while Ernshaw was getting his boots off ready for the hot-water bottle that the housekeeper was preparing. By the time the Doctor had arrived, Koda Bux"s elixir had already done its work. His eyes had closed and opened again with a look of recognition in them, his jaws had relaxed and his limbs were loosening. The Doctor listened to what Ernshaw had said while he was feeling his almost imperceptible pulse and Koda was wrapping his feet up in a blanket with a hot-water bottle.
"Yes, I see," said the Doctor, "intensely nervous, high-strung temperament, just what we should expect Mr. Vane Maxwell to be now.
"A very great mental shock and a fit. No, not epileptic, epileptoid, perhaps. Did you say that this man gave him something which brought him round? One of those Indian remedies, I suppose--very wonderful. I wish we knew how to make them. I suppose you won"t tell us what it is, my man?"
Koda Bux"s stiff moustache moved as though there were a smile under it, and he bowed his head and said:
"Sahib, it is not permitted; but by to-morrow the son of my master shall be well, for he is my father and my mother, and my life is his."
"I thought so," laughed the Doctor, who was an old friend of Sir Arthur"s. "I know you, Koda Bux, and I think I can trust you. I"ll look in again in a couple of hours, Mr. Ernshaw, just to see that everything is right, but I don"t think that I shall be wanted."
When the Doctor left Koda Bux took charge of the patient as a right, and when they got back into the dining-room, Dora said after a short and somewhat awkward silence:
"Mr. Ernshaw, after what has happened, I suppose it is only fair that I should tell you what I told Mr. Maxwell, because when he gets better, of course, he will talk it over with you, which is very dreadful, almost incredible. I promised Carol that I should not say anything about it until she was out of England. Of course, she told Mr. Rayburn; she wouldn"t marry him until he knew the whole story, and so I"m not breaking any confidence in telling you."
"Yes," he said, "I can fully understand that. And now, what is it? It is just as well that we should all know before Sir Arthur comes back, if I am to have any share in it."
"Of course, you must have," she said, almost pa.s.sionately. "You could not remain Mr. Maxwell"s friend and help him in the work you are going to do if you did not know, and I had better tell you before Sir Arthur comes back, so that you can think what is best to be done."
"Very well; tell me, please."
And she told him the whole miserable, pitiful, terrible story as she had heard it from Carol from beginning to end. When she reached the part about the flat in Densmore Gardens, his face whitened and his jaws came together, and he muttered through his teeth:
"Very awful; but, of course, they didn"t know. The sins of the fathers!
I am afraid Sir Reginald will have a very terrible confession to make.
It is difficult to believe that a human being could be guilty of such infamy."
"Still I"m afraid there is no doubt about it," said Dora. "But what"s to be done? Mr. Maxwell will never let his father go to the Abbey now without telling him what I have told you, and when he knows--no, I daren"t think about it. And poor Mrs. Garthorne, too; she married Mr.
Garthorne in all innocence, although I still believe she would rather have married Mr. Maxwell. What would happen to her if she knew?"
"She would go mad, I believe," said Ernshaw. "It would be the most terrible thing that a woman in her position could learn. We can only hope that she shall never learn. If she ever does, G.o.d help her!"
"Yes," said Dora. "And yet, what is to happen? How can she help knowing in the end? It must come out some time, you know."
"Yes, I am afraid it must," said Ernshaw, "but still, sufficient unto the day; we shall do no good by antic.i.p.ating that. We may as well leave it, as the old Greeks used to say, on the knees of the G.o.ds."
And meanwhile the G.o.ds were working it out in their own way, using Koda Bux as their instrument. Vane had gone to sleep after a second dose of the drug which had brought him out of his fit, and, as the keen Oriental intellect of Koda Bux had more than half expected, perhaps intended, he soon began to talk quite reasonably and connectedly in his sleep, and so it came to pa.s.s that a mystery which had puzzled Koda Bux for many a long year was revealed to him.
When the Doctor came Vane was sleeping quietly, and, while he was examining him, Sir Arthur arrived, and was told that he had been taken ill shortly after dinner, and this the Doctor explained was probably due to the very severe mental strain to which he had subjected himself during the last week or so. He went up to his room and found Koda Bux on guard. Koda salaamed and said:
"Protector of the poor, it is well! To-morrow Vane Sahib shall be well, but now he must sleep."
"Very well, Koda Bux," replied Sir Arthur. "I know he can have no better nurse than you, and you will watch."
"Yes, sahib, I will watch as long as it is necessary."
Then Sir Arthur went downstairs to hear from Ernshaw and Dora the now inevitable story of the sin of the man who had been his friend for more than a lifetime. He heard it as a man who knew much of men and women could and should hear such a story--in silence; and then, saying a quiet good-night to them, he went up to his room to have it out with himself just as he had done on that other terrible night when he had found Vane drunk on the hearth-rug in the Den, and had recognised that he had inherited from his mother the fatal taint of alcoholic insanity.
When he awoke the next morning, after a few hours" sleep, Koda Bux was not there to prepare his bath and lay out his clean linen. It was the first time that it had happened for nearly twenty years, and it was not until Sir Arthur came downstairs that he heard the reason. Koda Bux had vanished. No one knew when or how he had gone, but he had gone, leaving no sign or trace behind him.
"Vane," said Sir Arthur, as soon as the truth dawned upon him, "we must go down to Worcester at once. I know where Koda Bux has gone, and what he has gone to do. Garthorne"s crime was vile enough, G.o.d knows, but we mustn"t let murder be done if we can possibly help it. Ah, there"s an ABC, Vane, just see which train he can have got to Kidderminster. I know the next one is 9.50, which we can just catch when we have had a mouthful of breakfast; that"s a fast one, too; at least, fairly fast; gets there about half past one."
"5.40, arriving 12.15, 6.30 arriving 12.20," said Vane, reading from the time-table.
"In any case, I am afraid he has more than an hour"s start of us at Kidderminster. We can reduce that by taking a carriage to the Abbey because he would walk, and, of course, he may not, probably will not, be able to see Garthorne immediately, so we may be in time after all. Vane, do you feel strong enough to come?"
"Of course I do, dad," he replied. "As long as I could stand I would come."
"And may I come, too, Sir Arthur?" said Dora.
"You, Miss Russell!" he exclaimed, "but why? Surely there is no need for us to ask you to witness such a painful scene as this, of course, must be."
"I am Carol"s friend, Sir Arthur," said Dora, "and I think it only right to do all that I can do to prove that her story is true. I have got the photographs, and I know the marks by which Sir Reginald can be identified. If we are not too late, such a man will, of course, answer you with a flat denial, but if I am there I don"t think he can."
"Very well," said Sir Arthur. "It is very kind of you, and, of course, you can help us a great deal if you will."
"And, of course, I will," she said.
CHAPTER XXV.
Koda Bux, dressed in half-European costume, had taken the 5.40 newspaper train from Paddington to Kidderminster. He had been several times at Garthorne Abbey in attendance on Sir Arthur, and so he decided to carry out his purpose in the boldest, and therefore, possibly, the easiest and the safest way. He was, of course, well known to the servants as the devoted and confidential henchman of his master, and so he would not have the slightest difficulty in obtaining access to Sir Reginald. He walked boldly up the drive, intending to say that he had a letter of great importance which his master had ordered him to place in Sir Reginald"s hand. Sir Reginald would see him alone in one of the rooms, and then a cast of the roomal over his head, a pull and a wrench--and justice would be done.
Koda Bux knew quite enough of English law to be well aware that it had no adequate punishment for the terrible crime that Sir Reginald had committed--a crime made a thousand times worse by deception of half a lifetime.
According to his simple Pathan code of religion and morals there was only one proper penalty for the betrayal of a friend"s honour and his, Koda Bux"s, was even more jealous of his master"s honour than he was of his own, for he had eaten his salt and had sheltered under his roof for many a long year, and if the law would not punish his enemy, he would.
For his own life he cared nothing in comparison with the honour of his master"s house, and so how could he serve him better than by giving it for that of his master"s enemy?
It was after lunch-time when he reached the Abbey. Sir Reginald had, in fact, just finished lunch and had gone into the library to write some letters for the afternoon post, when the footman came to tell him that Sir Arthur Maxwell"s servant had just come from London with an urgent message from his master.