"Oh, confound you!" burst out Billy at last; "_I picked up the pieces!_"
A very nervous white-faced young man sat in the green leather armchair in Dr. Brand"s consulting-room. He had shown the telegram, and jerked out a few incoherent sentences; after which Sir Deryck, by means of carefully chosen questions, had arrived at the main facts. He now sat at his table considering them.
Then, turning in his revolving-chair, he looked steadily at Billy.
"Cathcart," he said, quietly, "what reason have you for being so certain of Lord Ingleby"s death, and that this telegram is therefore a forgery?"
Billy moistened his lips. "Oh, confound it!" he said. "I picked up the pieces!"
"I see," said Sir Deryck; and looked away.
"I have never told a soul," said Billy. "It is not a pretty story. But I can give you details, if you like."
"I think you had better give me details," said Sir Deryck, gravely.
So, with white lips, Billy gave them.
The doctor rose, b.u.t.toning his coat. Then he poured out a gla.s.s of water and handed it to Billy.
"Come," he said. "Fortunately I know a very cute detective from our own London force who happens just now to be in Cairo. We must go to Scotland Yard for his address, and a code. In fact we had better work it through them. You have done the right thing, Billy; and done it promptly; but we have no time to lose."
Twenty-four hours later, the doctor called at Shenstone Park. He had telegraphed his train requesting to be met by the motor; and he now asked the chauffeur to wait at the door, in order to take him back to the station.
"I could only come between trains," he explained to Lady Ingleby, "so you must forgive the short notice, and the peremptory tone of my telegram. I could not risk missing you. I have something of great importance to communicate."
The doctor waited a moment, hardly knowing how to proceed. He had seen Myra Ingleby under many varying conditions. He knew her well; and she was a woman so invariably true to herself, that he expected to be able to foresee exactly how she would act under any given combination of circ.u.mstances.
In this undreamed of development of Lord Ingleby"s return, he antic.i.p.ated finding her gently acquiescent; eagerly ready to resume again the duties of wifehood; with no thought of herself, but filled with anxious desire in all things to please the man who, with his whims and fancies, his foibles and ideas, had for nine months pa.s.sed completely out of her life.
Deryck Brand had expected to find Lady Ingleby in the mood of a typical April day, sunshine and showers rapidly alternating; whimsical smiles, succeeded by ready tears; then, with lashes still wet, gay laughter at some mistake of her own, or at incongruous behaviour on the part of her devoted but erratic household; speedily followed by pathetic anxiety over her own supposed short-comings in view of Lord Ingleby"s requirements on his return.
Instead of this charming personification of unselfish, inconsequent, tender femininity, the doctor found himself confronted by a calm cold woman, with hard unseeing eyes; a woman in whom something had died; and dying, had slain all the best and truest in her womanhood.
"Another man," was the prompt conclusion at which the doctor arrived; and this conclusion, coupled with the exigency of his own pressing engagements, brought him without preamble, very promptly to the point.
"Lady Ingleby," he said, "a cruel and heartless wrong has been done you by a despicable scoundrel, for whom no retribution would be too severe."
"I am perfectly aware of that," replied Lady Ingleby, calmly; "but I fail to understand, Sir Deryck, why you should consider it necessary to come down here in order to discuss it."
This most unexpected reply for a moment completely nonplussed the doctor.
But rapid mental adjustment formed an important part of his professional equipment.
"I fear we are speaking at cross-purposes," he said, gently. "Forgive me, if I appear to have trespa.s.sed upon a subject of which I have no knowledge whatever. I am referring to the telegram received by you yesterday, which led you to suppose the report of Lord Ingleby"s death was a mistake, and that he might shortly be returning home."
"My husband is alive," said Lady Ingleby. "He has telegraphed to me from Cairo, and I expect him back very soon."
For answer, Deryck Brand drew from his pocket-book two telegrams.
"I am bound to tell you at once, dear Lady Ingleby," he said, "that you have been cruelly deceived. The message from Cairo was a heartless fraud, designed in order to obtain money. Billy Cathcart had reason to suspect its genuineness, and brought it to me. I cabled at once to Cairo, with this result."
He laid two telegrams on the table before her.
"The first is a copy of one we sent yesterday to a detective out there.
The second I received three hours ago. No one--not even Billy--has heard of its arrival. I have brought it immediately to you."
Lady Ingleby slowly lifted the paper containing the first message. She read it in silence.
Watch Cook"s bank and arrest man personating Lord Ingleby who will call for draft of money. Cable particulars promptly.
The doctor observed her closely as she laid down the first message without comment, and took up the second.
Former valet of Lord Ingleby"s arrested. Confesses to despatch of fraudulent telegram. Cable instructions.
Lady Ingleby folded both papers and laid them on the table beside her.
The calm impa.s.sivity of the white face had undergone no change.
"It must have been Walker," she said. "Michael always considered him a scamp and shifty; but I delighted in him, because he played the banjo quite excellently, and was so useful at parish entertainments. Michael took him abroad; but had to dismiss him on landing. He wrote and told me the fact, but gave no reasons. Poor Walker! I do not wish him punished, because I know Michael would think it was largely my own fault for putting banjo-playing before character. If Walker had written me a begging letter, I should most likely have sent him the money. I have a fatal habit of believing in people, and of wanting everybody to be happy."
Then, as if these last words recalled a momentarily forgotten wound, the stony apathy returned to voice and face.
"If Michael is not coming back," said Lady Ingleby, "I am indeed alone."
The doctor rose, and stood looking down upon her, perplexed and sorrowful.
"Is there not some one who should be told immediately of this change of affairs, Lady Ingleby?" he asked, gravely.
"No one," she replied, emphatically. "There is n.o.body whom it concerns intimately, excepting myself. And not many know of the arrival of yesterday"s news. I wrote to Jane, and I suppose the boys told it at Overdene. If by any chance it gets into the papers, we must send a contradiction; but no explanation, please. I dislike the publication of wrong doing. It only leads to imitation and repet.i.tion. Beside, even a poor worm of a valet should be shielded if possible from public execration. We could not explain the extenuating circ.u.mstances."
"I do not suppose the news has become widely known," said the doctor.
"Your household heard it, of course?"
"Yes," replied Lady Ingleby. "Ah, that reminds me, I must stop operations in the shrubbery and plantation. There is no object in little Peter having a grave, when his master has none."
This was absolutely unintelligible to the doctor; but at such times he never asked unnecessary questions, for his own enlightenment.
"So after all, Sir Deryck," added Lady Ingleby, "Peter was right."
"Yes," said the doctor, "little Peter was not mistaken."
"Had I remembered him, I might have doubted the telegram," remarked Lady Ingleby. "What can have aroused Billy"s suspicions?"
"Like Peter," said the doctor, "Billy had, from the first, felt very sure. Do not mention to him that I told you the doubts originated with him. He is a sensitive lad, and the whole thing has greatly distressed him."
"Dear Billy," said Lady Ingleby.