A recoiling vengeance
Frank Barrett


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1U AUG 6.MJG 13











A BECOILING VENGEANCE





A
RECOILING VENGEANCE
BY
FRANK BARRETT
AUTHOR OP "HIS HELPMATE," "THE OREAT HESPER," ETC.
'Revenge at first, though sweet,
Bitter ere long, back on itself recoils."
Milton.
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS
D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
1888


HARVARD
|UNIV£!<SITY1
LIBRARY
OCT 81941
Authorized Edition.


CONTENTS.
CHAPTER L page
BOW IT ALL BEGAN 1
CHAPTER IL
NURSE GEETRUDE 13
CHAPTER III.
MR. LYNN YEAMES MAKES HIS APPEARANCE 26
CHAPTER IV.
AN UNLTJOKY BEGGAB .,.».. 42
CHAPTER V.
DIAMOND CUTS DIAMOND 50
CHAPTER VI.
TWO PHASES OF A GOOD GIRL's CHAP.ACTEB 58


vi CONTENTS.
CHAPTER VII. paoi
LYNN FALLS INTO A TRAP 74
CHAPTER VIII.
I PALL OUT OP A TRAP 89
CHAPTER IX.
A PELLET OF PAPBB 98
CHAPTER X.
A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE 102
CHAPTER XI.
THE MORTIFICATION OF MRS. YEAMES 115
CHAPTER XII.
THE DINGLE COTTAGE 126
CHAPTER XIII.
AWDREY PERSEVERES 140
CHAPTER XIV.
I TELL A BTORT WITH A MORAL 151
CHAPTER XV.
MR. LYNN YEAMES PROVES HIMSELF BUT A SECOND-RATE
DECEIVER 178


CONTENTS. vii
CHAPTER XVI. page
DE. AWDREY PERSEVERES 189
CHAPTER XVII.
A SPOKE IN MR. YEAMES'S WHEEL 204
CHAPTER XVIII.
FIRST CHARGE AQAINST DR. AWDREY 212
CHAPTER XIX.
WHICH 18 THE JUDAS? 222
CHAPTER XX.
GETTING EVJDENCE 235
CHAPTER XXI.
THE INQUIBY 248
CHAPTER XXII.
BROUGHT TO BOOK 256





LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
VAGE
"A NICE FUSS THEY MADE ABOUT IT" 8
"NURSE GERTRUDE CAME DOWN TO DINNER WITHOUT THE
BECOMING LITTLE CAP" 20
"WE LEFT MRS. YEAMES AT HER COTTAGE" 88
"THERE IS A MAN WORTH TALKING ABOUT" . ....... 63
"GRINDING AWAY WITH A PESTLE AND MORTAR AND A BOOK
BEFORE HIM" 70
"SOMEHOW OR OTHER HE PROPOSED TO HER THAT
NIGHT" 76
"THAT WILL SHALL BE CONTESTED" 124
'' MISS DALRYMPLE POINTED OUT WHERE THERE SURELY
WOULD BE PRIMROSES IN THE SPRING" 185
"' I WANT TO SEE MR. FLEXMORE's WILL '" 141


x LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
PAGE
"'i can't wait ant longer'" 154
"A VERY PRETTY GROUP THEY MADE" 157
"LYNN QUITTED THE ROOM TO 'GO AND HAVE IT OUT WITH
AWDREY"' 187
"I CLIMBED OVER THE TENCE THAT SEPARATED THEM
FROM THE DINGLE PADDOCK" 205
"I SAW THEM GOING ALONG THE HIGH STREET TOGETHER" 224
"I CAUGHT HOLD OP HER HAND AND KISSED IT" . . . . 229
'"I HAVE BROUGHT MRS. BATES TO SEE YOU,' SAID SHE" . 243
"' WE'RE A-GOIN' QUEEN'S EVIDENCE'" 276
"IT IS A TREAT TO SEE HIM WITH HIS BOYS" 279


A KECOILING VENGEANCE
CHAPTER I.
HOW IT ALL BEGAN.
My name is Keene,
Anthony Keene. I am
a lawyer; sixty-four is
my age. You may see
- what kind of man I am
by my portrait; not over
pleasant with any one.
George Flexmore and
I were friends. He was
my first client when I set up in Coneyford, a small town
just large enough at that time, as I believed, to keep
a lawyer of its own; there are a couple of us now, and


2 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
we have as much to do as we need. Flexmore had
just then come into a fortune of £30,000, and he did
not know what to do with it. I prevented him from
losing it, as he certainly would have done without
proper direction, for he was an easy-going man, of a
credulous disposition, such as your needy adventurer
and shifty speculator love to take in hand. For every
man that has money there are ninety-nine who are
anxious to spend it for him.
"If any one asks you for money, Flexmore," said
I, "don't refuse him : send him to me." And he did
so, with this result—he never lost a penny by these
good-natured friends.
He had a great respect for me—more than I
deserved doubtless. He seemed to think that what-
ever I did must be right, and I believe it was the
sheer force of example that kept him out of matri-
mony so long. Because I did not care to take a wife,
he thought best to keep single. But the conditions
were different. I am not an easy-going man, and
marriage would have been purgatory for me or my
wife, and the result must have been equally bad
for both of us in either case. Besides, a lawyer has
so much to occupy his thoughts in the interest of his


HOW IT ALL BEGAN.
3
clients that he has not an hour in the day to devote
to anything else. But Flexmore had nothing to do
from morning to night that he might not very well
set aside to attend to the wants of somebody else;
and as to worries—he hadn't enough to keep him
from getting fat.
Now, a man ought to have solicitude for some-
thing beyond himself, if it's only to give reason-
able activity to his faculties; and Flexmore felt
this also. He saw that he ought to have some
other object in life than to eat and sleep and kill
time—that his life was incomplete, in fact. But
he still made pretence of being content with
a bachelor's existence.
One day I caught him singing his old song, When
a mans single he lives at his ease, but in such a
lugubrious strain that it would have made me laugh
if it had not irritated me.
"That's humbug, Flexmore," said I, "and you
know it."
"What," said he, "does not a single man live at
his ease?"
"Not when he has only himself to think of. A
man's happiness consists in making other people


4 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
happy—unless he's a lawyer. You're not a lawyer,
and you ought to be making some one else happy.
You'd be more at your ease if you had some one
else to think about, and somebody else to- think
about you."
"Do you mean that I ought to marry, Tony?"
he asked, blushing like a girl.
"That is exactly what I do mean, George."
"But I'm fifty. I'm too old to think about marriage
now."
"A man's too old to think about marriage when
nobody will marry him, not before. There's little
Miss Vaughan, who has been waiting to be asked
these three years; there are dozens of girls to be
chosen from if"
"Do you think she would have me—that Miss
Vaughan?" he interrupted eagerly.
"Well, the best way of deciding that point is to
go and ask her this afternoon," said I.
The result of this advice was that Flex-
more married Miss Vaughan just six weeks
after.
She was much younger than he, as a wife should
be. A happier couple I never saw. He lived to


HOW IT ALL BEGAN.
5
please her, and she to please him—that was the
chief object of their lives.
A year after their marriage they had a child, and

"A NICE FUSS THEY MADE ABOUT IT."
a nice fuss they made about it. I can't abide babies,
though they never coidd believe this, and were con-
tinually plaguing me "to kiss the little dear." The


6
A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
child did not seem to like it, and I know I hated
it; but a lawyer, to please his clients, has to put up
with a good many disagreeable duties. However,
this mutual repugnance faded away, and we came to
like each other in the course of time.
She grew up a pleasant little child, shy and timid,
with a clinging affe'ction for lovable persons and
things. I never saw anything like the passionate
attachment that existed between her and her sweet-
tempered mother. It inspired me with a melan-
choly foreboding, for this strenuous love, I have
noticed, too often springs from an inner con-
sciousness (presentiment, if you will) of coming
separation.
Poor Mrs. Flexmore had never been a robust person,
and—well, to cut short a story that is too painful
to dwell upon, she died when little Laure was eleven
years old.
Flexmore was then sixty-two, but he was not too
old to suffer. The loss unmanned him completely.
He took on like a woman and he would have
been less a man if he had not, perhaps.
"My poor old friend," said I, "it would have been
better to let you live on a bachelor."


HOW IT ALL BEGAN.
7
"No, no," he replied. "After such happiness an
eternity of suffering would find me still a gainer."
"You have your child—your little Laure," said
I, and then to turn his thoughts from the past, I
talked about the future, and what he should do for
the child's welfare.
Indeed the child's grief gave me almost as much
concern as the father's. It was not a passionate out-
burst, that spends itself like a summer shower and
gives place to peace and smiles, but a continued,
fruitless yearning for that loved one to come back
who was gone for ever.
"You must have a woman here to comfort her,"
I said to Flexmore. "You're no good."
He agreed to this, and sent for his deceased
brother's widow, as being his nearest female relative,
and she came readily enough, a woman of fifty, hard
as nails, and stringy as an old crow.
Of course she never had "approved" (that was
her word) of her brother's marriage, so she had little
sympathy with his loss and no patience with his grief.
She looked upon little Laure's distress as unnatural
in a child (unusual it certainly was), and her morbid
condition as the result of defective education; and
2


8
A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
she set about correcting all this by forcing the little
thing to read some instructive and moral books which
no conceivable creature could find interest or pleasure
in.
Laure had no appetite even when the kind old cook
had a free hand and tempted her with pleasant
dishes. When the cook's hand was no longer free—
about half-an-hour after Mrs. Yeames had taken her
things off—the child ate nothing.
"But you must eat; you cannot gain strength if
you do not," said Mrs. Yeames severely. "It's very
wrong for little girls to reject good food," and when
Laure turned away to cry she was told that she
must not cry, that she couldn't expect to be happy
if she gave way like that, and that all good little
girls did as they were bid, and didn't cry when they
were told to look pleasant and nice.
After she had been there three days Dr. Awdrey
had to be sent for. Laure was feverish and couldn't
"hold herself up properly." Dr. Awdrey ordered her
to be put to bed at once, gave directions respecting
treatment, and sent physic to be administered every
two hours.
Mrs. Yeames had studied medicine from a shilling


HOW IT ALL BEGAN.
9
handbook that she carried with her as if it were
an amulet; she diluted the physic and administered
doses when she thought fit.
Little Laure was very much worse when the doctor
called the next day; and it was not long before he
discovered the reason.
He came down into the library, where I was sitting
with Flexmore.
"Your child is in a very dangerous condition,"
he said firmly.
"Heaven have mercy upon me!" exclaimed-
my old friend, clasping his hands. "What is to be
done?"
"She must have a proper nurse, to begin with,"
said Dr. Awdrey.
"A proper nurse? there is my sister-in-law."
"Dr. Awdrey said 'a proper nurse,'" said I, for
I hated Mrs. Yeames already.
"Do you know of one, doctor?" asked Flexmore.
"Yes; I can get you a professional nurse—one
whom I can rely on implicitly, and who can do more
than all my physic for the poor child. She is in
the Hospital for Little Children at London, and I
believe she would come at once if I asked her."


10 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"Then, for mercy's sake, telegraph to her at once."
When the doctor was gone, Flexmore, in some
embarrassment, turned to me.
"It will not work, Tony," said he despondently.
"The nurse will never be able to put up with that
old—old"
"Cat," said I, supplying the word he had not the
courage' to articulate. "Go on."
"Every one of the servants has given notice already.
They can't stand her."
"Can you stand her?" I asked.
He looked at me as if hesitating before the heresy
of disbelieving in the virtues of a woman whose
every action bespoke conscious rectitude, and then
summoning up his fortitude he said—" I am afraid
I cannot long."
"Of course you can't," said I; "she's turned the
whole place topsy-turvy in putting things in order,
and left not a bit of comfort anywhere."
"Yes, yes; all the things that my darling loved
she has packed away—the little trifles with which
she made these rooms so bright and pleasant. I
can't bear to see the place altered ; and those trifles
Tony, I miss them—I miss them."


HOW IT ALL BEGAN:
11
"We'll have 'em all back again in twenty-four
hours."
"But how are we to get rid of her and all her
boxes and her library and things? I believe she
has ordered a lot of furniture to be sent on."
"Yes; and I warrant she's settled what she'll
wear when she leads you to the altar."
"Never, Tony—I'll never marry again. What I
do you think she meditates such a thing?"
"She isn't a widow if she doesn't."
"Good gracious, what have I done? I asked her
to come and live here How can I get rid of
her?"
"Don't bother yourself about that, George. Tou
leave her to me. Give me full authority to act in
your behalf and stick to my directions."
He gave me his word most impressively that he
would.
"And will you have it out with her before long?"
he asked anxiously.
"Now, directly," said I, rising. "This is just the
sort of job I like."
And I went into the sitting-room and sent at once
for Mrs. Teames. Then we had it out. She was a


12 A EEC01 LING VENGEANCE.
tough one to deal with, but not nearly so tough as I
am. I tried to be polite, but I fear I insulted her.
She certainly said I did, and went into the library
to know if her brother-in-law would tolerate such a
want of respect on the part of a mere attorney;
and the question being put directly to Flexmore,
whether she or I were to leave that house at once and
for ever, he replied that he felt convinced, taking all
things into consideration, that he could better afford
to lose her than me.
After that there was nothing for the indignant
widow to do but to pack up and pack off—which she
did, happily, before her fury gave place to more
prudential considerations.


CHAPTER II.
NURSE GERTRUDE.
I dropped in on old
Flexmore the next day to
see if I might be wanted
(for it appeared to me not
unlikely that Mrs. Teames
might return when she got
better of her vile temper),
found my old friend busy
restoring to their wonted places
the pictures and bric-cL-lrac so dear to him as
evidence of his poor wife's taste and fancy.
"It's all right, then 1" said I.
"Yes; the place begins to look itself again. Every
little thing, you know, Tony, she bought with the


14 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
thought that it might please me and make our home
sweeter." "She" was the good little wife he had
lost.
"Yes; she had good taste and a good heart," said I.
"And the old woman—have you heard anything
of her?"
"She wrote saying that, in the interest of her
dear niece Laure, she would be happy to see me and,
if possible, arrange some modus vivendi. I thought
I would see you before replying."
"Quite right. Give me her letter; I'll answer it
for you. I can say you have put the matter in my
hands—see? I'll undertake to say she won't come
back."
He thanked me with tearful gratitude, and asked
me to stay to lunch.
There was such a savoury smell of cooking in the
house as I had not inhaled since the coming of
Mrs. Yeames, and I accepted without hesitation—the
more readily as I wished to see Nurse Gertrude,
who, Flexmore told me, had arrived that morning
and would in all probability take lunch with us.
I expected to see a comely, motherly, middle-aged
woman, and was taken altogether by surprise when


NURSE GERTRUDE.
15
Nurse Gertrude presented herself in the person of a
slight young woman of twenty-two or thereabouts.
Of course I am no judge of female beauty, but I
don't think Nurse Gertrude at that time could be
considered handsome, or even very pretty. If I have
any predilection, it is for large women with round,
full figures; and I think I rather like a saucy eye
and a nice little turned-up nose.
Now Nurse Gertrude, though by no means short,
was, as I have said, slight and thin. She had a very
delicate fair complexion and pretty dark hair, to be
sure; but her nose was long and her eyes were by
no means saucy, but calm and deep and thoughtful.
Her expression was cheerful, and she had a pretty
trick of blushing, but in repose her face was full of
intelligence and solicitude. Her teeth were not regular,
but there was the sweetest play in her lips, that
harmonized with her voice and gentle laugh. One
could not look at her without being impressed with
the belief that she was essentially a pure and honest
girl, with a very earnest purpose, an amiable
disposition, and a clear-seeing, right-feeling mind.
Her eyes—they were dark gray—were so true and
frank and loyal that one was attracted towards her


16 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
as to a friend whose fidelity and love could never be
doubted.
Let me stop while I can, if I say more I shall
finish by declaring that she was downright beautiful
—an assertion which, though I would not contradict
it now, I was far from venturing then.
One thing however did strike me: and this was
that in some peculiarity—I know not what—she bore
a resemblance to Mrs. Flexmore as I had known her
in her younger days. And this seemed also to have
struck Flexmore, for more than once I saw him,
forgetful of the table, looking at her with the
tenderest interest on his poor old woe-begone face.
"Oh, I see how this will end," said I to myself.
"He'll marry that girl if she'll have him."
And that was the opinion of a good many other
people before long.
Mrs. Yeames, like an old buzzard that has missed
its prey, hovered about the neighbourhood, watching
the quarry with the jealous intention of preventing
any other creature of her own species clawing up
what she had failed to secure. She had heard that
Flexmore was worth thirty thousand pounds!
A nice picking for somebody, and poor old-


NURSE GERTRUDE.
17
Flexmore was no longer a hale and hearty
man.
She took a cottage at the other end of the town,
and joined a clique of charitable ladies, who could
make a shirt for the heathen or pick to pieces
the reputation of a fellow-Christian with equal
ability.
It is pretty certain they did not leave the charac-
ter of Nurse Gertrude alone.
Meanwhile Nurse Gertrude fulfilled her duties
with the calm self-possession of one conscientiously
doing what she feels to be right; and I believe that,
if the question ever entered her consideration, she
did not care two straws what I or any one else
thought about her. What she had come there to
do, she did—and as if by magic. With Dr. Awdrey's
help she got the fever under in a week, and after
that she brought a smile back to the poor child's
wasted face, which was of still greater importance;
for when one can smile, one can eat and enjoy
food. She gave little Laure something to love, and
nourished her heart with kindness. That was what
she needed: that was what she got. She had been
craving for love since her mother was taken away


18
A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
and must have died without it, as surely as a plant
must die without sunlight.
But how was she to be weaned of this love-food,
in order that Nurse Gertrude might in time return to
her hospital? Every day her appetite grew by what it
fed on. All the clinging affection she bad borne
to her mother she now exhibited towards Nurse
Gertrude. The child had recognized the likeness
that had struck me: mother and nurse, unlike in
some respects, were still of the same type of woman—
and an excellent type too. After a time it be-
came obvious that Laure was not to be weaned,
and that to take away Nurse Gertrude would inflict
the same terrible suffering the child had endured
in losing her mother. Thereupon there were con-
sultations between Flexmore, Dr. Awdrey, and me.
"It is obvious that Nurse Gertrude is very
strongly attached to your child," said Dr. Awdrey.
"She is not unhappy here; she looks better than
when she came," said Flexmore.
"Oh, undoubtedly she is better," Dr. Awdrey
agreed; "the confinement of the hospital and the
air of London were telling upon her—in fact, I must
admit that in recommending her I was influenced


NURSE GERTRUDE.
19
by the consideration that the change would be to
her advantage as well as your daughter's."
"If she would only consent to stay here as a com-
panion to dear Laure—in any capacity,on any terms!"
said Flexmore. "Do you think she would?"
"Go and ask her," said I.
She was asked; but Dr. Awdrey was the nego-
tiator, for Flexmore had not the courage of a mouse.
And Nurse Gertrude acquiesced, setting aside all
other considerations for the sake of the child whose
love had won her heart. So Dr. Awdrey put it;
for my own part, I could not see what sacrifice she
had made in exchanging a close hospital ward for
a pleasant and airy house, and an ill-paid slavery
for a very remunerative position where she was free
to do just as she liked. (Dr. Awdrey, in whose hands
the whole affair was placed, had stuck Flexmore
for a thumping big salary.) No; I looked upon it
that this young lady, together with other very good
qualities, had a very clear perception of her duty
to herself, and that she foresaw as plainly as I did that
sooner or later she would become Mrs. Flexmore.
However to stick to the facts of the case: that
day Nurse Gertrude came down to dinner without


20 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
the becoming little cap which had previously dis-
tinguished her as an official nurse; and if we had

"KURSK OKRTRVDE CAME DOWN TO DINNER WITHOUT THE
BECOMING LITTLE CAP."
come to think her pretty in her cap, we were bound
to admit that she looked still nicer without it—her


NURSE GERTRUDE.
21
pretty hair drawn neatly up and coiled plainly on
her head.
Gracious powers! how the women folk in our
little town cackled when the news spread that this
person was henceforth to be a sort of housekeeper
and companion in Mr. Flexmore's house, and that the
servants were no longer to call her Nurse Gertrude,
but Miss Dalrymple, if ycu please. Though why they
should be astonished was a mystery, considering
that according to their own statement they had fore-
seen this, and "said so all along." Who was this
Miss Dalrymple? Nobody knew. Why had she
gone into a hospital as nurse? Ah! a good many
young women go into hospitals as a sort of refuge,
they generally have a history—something to conceal,
and, too often, something to expiate by what they
consider work of charity, though, as for that, they
are paid quite as well as ordinary servants, so there's
not much sacrifice on their part. It is well known
that many go in with the hope of entrapping some
young doctor or medical student, while others, like
this Miss Dalrymple, contrive to work their way into
well-to-do families and play on the sense of gratitude
or fancy of some old inbecile, such as poor dear Mr


22
A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
Flexmove. These were the views of those miserable
women who refer to the members of their little
coterie as "very superiah ladies—very superiah!"
They questioned Dr. Awdrey about Miss Dal-
rymple—about her history, her antecedents, her
family, &c.
"All I know about Miss Dalrymple," he said, in
reply, "is that she has the finest and sweetest char-
acter I have ever studied."
Poor Doctor Awdrey! we thought, she has thrown
her spell over him at some time; he might have
married her if he had only had the sense to let her
stop in the hospital; but there was little chance for
him now, with old Mr. Flexmore absolutely in her
power. With a weak man of that kind, she could
easily obtain an offer of marriage, and at any time
she could reckon upon Laure's tears supporting her
claim for a more definite and satisfactory position.
She was incontrovertibly spoiling that child, Mrs.
Yeames declared, quite spoiling her with indulgence;
dressing her like a little popinjay, though she was
still in mourning; whoever heard of a child of that
age being allowed to run wild and do whatever she
would, spoiling her thiDgs and behaving like a tomboy


NURSE GERTRUDE.
23
more than anything else. A nice self-willed, perverse,
detestable girl she would grow up under such treat-
ment; but there, of course Nurse Gertrude (they
wouldn't call her Miss Dalrymple) had only one
object, and that was to make herself indispensable,
in the opinion of poor dear, dear George! Ah, dear
George was much to be pitied.
The worst of it was that "dear George" bore his
affliction very patiently, and seemed to like it.
Miss Dalrymple's position was not altogether an
enviable one. She must have known of the ill-feeling
against her, must have divined the cruel things that
were said about her, though she showed no sign
of being hurt under the snubs administered freely
to her by visitors, who called ostensibly to see how
dear little Laure was progressing. With her calm,
deliberative disposition she may have foreseen all
the consequences of taking the position in Flex-
more's house which she now held. She did nothing
to controvert the opinion people chose to entertain
regarding her; nothing to make them know that she
was better than they <chose to think. It was only
by accident that the truth came out.
We have a flower show in our town once a year.
3


24
A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
The first day is the best of course, and, the prices
excluding the poorer kind of people, only the upper
sort are there. There was a rumour that titled visi-
tors were staying with the Caselys, and that probably
they would visit the show in the afternoon; where-
fore you may be sure that Mrs. Yeames and her
"superiah" set were all there in full feather.
About three o'clock I saw Miss Dalrymple come in
with Laure ; she never missed any occasion of giving
pleasure to the child, or of taking it herself, for that
matter. She was plainly dressed ; but, to my mind,
there was no more elegant young lady there. Mrs.
Yeames with three of her finest friends stopped them,
and with the most distant patronizing inclination
of their heads to Miss Dalrymple bent down to kiss
Laure and ask after her poor dear papa. Then Mrs.
Yeames, taking the child's hand, led her to a bank
of cut flowers, asking her whether she could spell
the labels attached, and whether she knew what was
a papaver somniferum.
Jn the midst of this instructive display of her own
acquirements, there was a flutter amongst the visitors,
and word was whispered that Mrs. Casely had arrived
and had brought Lord Dunover with her. And there,


NURSE GERTRUDE.
25
sure enough, was Mrs. Casely with a tall, white-
haired, aristocratic old gentleman, coming right down
upon the little party. There was not time to get
away from little Laure and that horrid Nurse
Gertrude, when Mrs. Casely met them and intro-
duced his lordship. Dunover bowed stiffly, but
suddenly catching sight of Miss Dalrymple his face
became illumined with a smile of heartfelt pleasure,
and exclaiming, " What, Gertie, my dear, you here!"
he took her by both hands and kissed her pretty
hps. Then turning to Mrs. Casely he said—
"Mrs. Casely, let me introduce you to my niece—
a little democrat who almost shakes my class preju-
dice, for she prefers independence as a hospital nurse
to sharing the fallen fortunes of her family."
Then it was known that Miss Dalrymple was
actually the niece of an earl. And she and Laure
spent a week at Casely Manor, where Mrs. Yeames
and her "superiah " set had never been allowed to
stay longer than half an hour.


CHAPTER III.
MR. LYNN YEAMES MAKES HIS APPEARANCE.
FTER this I said to
Flexmore—
"Why on earth don't
you marry Miss Dal-
rymple?"
"Do you think she
would have me?" he
asked, with a composure
that showed that the idea
was not unconsidered.'
"You can but ask her,"
I replied. "There's no-
thing: like asking when one is in doubt."
"I believe you think that any woman is to be had


MR. LYNN YEAMES.
27
for the asking. But if I were sure of being accepted,
I would not make the offer."
"Why?"
"Because she is worthy of a better man than I
am for one thing."
"That she can best decide. What'syour nextreason?"
"That I have no wish to marry."
"That isn't much of a reason. You have to think of
what is best for your daughter and Miss Dalrymple-
Your little one ought to have a mother—some one
from whom she will be inseparable when you are
gone; and there's not a soul in the world better
fitted to take the place of a mother than that girl."
"I know it—I know it," said Flexmore; "I have
thought of that."
"And then Miss Dalrymple ought to have the
opportunity offered her of making her position here
less anomalous thau it is."
"I have a better plan for her welfare than that,
Tony," he said quietly.
"Then let me know it, George; for we must do
something to stop the mouths of these cackling
scandal-mongers and tittle-tattling widows and
spinsters," said I.


28
A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"She must marry Awdrey: that is the husband
for that sweet girl," said he.
"Dr. Awdrey!" I exclaimed in astonishment, for
I had never thought of him as a marrying man.
"Yes. He loves her—I know he does. Who could
see her and know her, and not love her? And he
is an excellent fellow. I wish he were a little lighter
and better-looking; but I couldn't wish him to have
a better heart, or a more lovable disposition. He's a
fine man, Tony."
"Yes, he is a fine man," I assented readily,
"morally."
"He's not ill-looking; a little serious perhaps."
"That's not astonishing. No one has so much
reason to be serious as a fool."
"You do not mean to tell me that Dr. Awdrey is
a fool," said my old friend indignantly.
"A fool in a worldly sense he is. In his profession, I
grant, he may be as wise as you like. He can see into
men's stomachs, but he can't see into their minds.
If you can't see through the mask with which most
men conceal their true nature, you are bound to be
duped. Awdrey is so honest that he cannot believe in
knavery; and a man with his confiding disposition


MR. LYNN YEAMES. 29
is the born prey for tricksters. He was cheated into
buying a practice that was worth nothing, and he
goes a round of thirty miles a day to doctor patients
who never pay their fees. Hang me, I'd physic
'em if they tried to serve me in that fashion. How-
ever a woman loves her husband none the less for
his being serious; and as for looks, in my opinion
there's not a man in Coneyford to compare with
him; he's six foot in his stockings, and every inch
of him a man. That's good enough."
"Then you agree with me that he would be a
suitable husband for Miss Dalrymple?"
"Yes, but he won't marry her, for all that. It's
as much as ever he can keep his head above water
now, and fool as he is—in worldly matters—he
wouldn't tie a millstone round his neck."
"Miss Dalrymple is not a millstone," said poor old
Flexmore warmly.
"I know that. She's a good woman, and would
work herself ill to help her husband, or worry herself
ill if she couldn't. That is what Awdrey would not
have his wife do, and the only way to prevent it
is to keep single. And single he'll keep."
•' No, Keene, no; he must marry Gertrude. I have


30 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
thought it all out. My little Laure must have a
father as well as a mother when I am gone—and I
don't think that is long hence, Tony. I shall not see
sixty-four."
I tried to combat this notion, though I myself
was far from regarding it as improbable; and then to
turn the conversation, I said—
"Well, to go back to what you have been thinking
out—what's your idea?"
"I wish to put Awdrey in a position to marry
Miss Dairymple. I know he is poor, but I am
rich."
"You'll never get Awdrey to take an independence
from you."
"Not while I live—but in time to come when I
am gone? This is my idea, Tony. I would leave
him every penny I have on the condition that he
adopts Laure as his daughter."
"I see your notion. There will then be a second
inducement for him to make Miss Dalrymple his
wife in the fact that the child is inseparable from
her."
"That's it. Tony. Now tell me. What is your
opinion on the subject?"


MR. LYNN YEAMES.
31
"Well, I think the idea is a capital good one, so
good that I wish I had thought of it myself. I might
if there had not been a little too much romance in
it for my mind to take readily to. Still, it is a good
idea."
"Very well, then; draw up a will in accordance with
it. Settle everything upon Awdrey, subject to deduc-
tion for a few smaller legacies that I will write in."
"I'll sleep on it. We won't hurry. You're good for
some time to come."
"Let me have the draft of it in a week at the out-
side, Tony," he said eagerly.
I promised to do this, and went home, turning
the matter over in my mind. I considered from time
to time" during the week, and finding no material
objection to the scheme I put Flexmore's notion into
legal form with certain modifications, and then took
a rough draft for his inspection.
"Is your master at home?" I asked the girl who
opened the door.
"Yes, sir; he's in the library with Mrs. Yeames
and Mr. Yeames."
"Mr. Yeames? what Mr. Yeames?" I asked the
little maid sharply.


32 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"Mr. Lynn Yeames is his name, I think, sir; a
young gentleman."
"Mrs. Yeames's son. I know him," said I; and
then I stood, ruhbing my feet on the mat and
wondering what on earth he had come upon the scene
for. No good, I felt sure.
Mr. Lynn Yeames was the son of Mrs. Yeames
by her second marriage. That was not much in his
favour, but the rest was still less to his advantage. I
had been twice employed by Flexmore on his account:
once, to settle some college debts which Mrs. Yeames
declared she could not meet, though she could scrape
enough together to send him to a university for the
gratification of her wretched vanity, when he ought
to have been earning his bread, like other lads of
his condition; and a second time to stay an action
for breach of promise, threatened by a townsman's
daughter with whom he had got entangled. Fellows
brought up by foolish women on bad principles are
always either getting out of scrapes or getting into
them, and I asked myself which purpose had procured
his uncle the doubtful pleasure of this visit.
I shook myself together, and went into the library
with my wits on the alert,


MR. LYNN YE AMES.
83
Lynn Yeames at this time was about four-and-
twenty, and his looks would have deceived any one
but a lawyer. A sturdy young fellow of average
height, but very thick-set, he was dressed in a gray
Norfolk jacket and knickerbockers, with a pair of
legs that would have done credit to a drayman, and
seemed to be the object of his mother's constant
admiration. His skin was very fair, his eyes very
blue, his lips very red ; his hair was combed down on
one side of his forehead, and he had a small carroty
moustache. His manner was effusive, and he affected
a rollicking dare-devil air, which went well enough
with bis full-blooded complexion, and other signs
of animal strength, but were not altogether in keep-
ing with a certain slyness in the turn of his eyes
and the lowering of their lids. But then this slyness
was in harmony with his profession of being up to
all the ways of the world and knowing his way about.
Most people, I believe, would have been favourably
impressed with him, and have liked him the better
for failings which might be attributed to youth and
exuberant vigour; but I did not like him.
He had come down, it seemed, to spend a few days
with the "mater" (I hate young people who can't


34 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
call their dearest friend by the sweetest word in the
language, " mother"), and he had only been here
a day and was awfully bored already—not a decent
billiard board in the place, hags at the bars, and not
a light to be seen after ten-thirty. He wanted to know
if there was any fishing or shooting, or any mortal
thing a man might do to earn a night's repose.
"There's the piano, Lynn, dear," suggested Mrs.
Yeames, anxious to show off her son's accomplish-
ments. "You know that you play very well." She
said this in French—and bad French too.
To this he replied in a mixture of the two
tongues, not loth to show off, that one did not
come into the country to play Schubert, and that
sort of thing."
"For goodness' sake, sir, let us confine our talk to
English or French," said I. "Have you heard any-
thing lately from Miss Kite?" This was the name of
the injured young lady at Oxford.
"If you please, do not mention the name of that
horrid, designing, worthless person," said MrsYeames.
"She's worth four hundred pounds more than she
was, madam," said I; "for that's what I had to pay
to make her withdraw her action."


MR. LYAW YEAMES.
35
Mrs. Yeames flicked the dust off her silk gown
and looked extremely uncomfortable.
"No new scrape, I hope, Mr. Lynn?" I continued.
"Not exactly. What the deuce should make you
suppose there was?" he asked sheepishly, for it takes
very little to upset the equanimity of these boisterous
young gentlemen.
"What made me suppose it?" I echoed. "Why,
seeing you here!"
"I want to find some shooting. That's all I came for."
"I can let you have it, if you are prepared to pay.
I have a client who will let you the shooting over
two thousand acres."
"That's my sort. Of course I'll pay. When can
I begin to blaze away?"
"As soon as you have settled with me. Come to
my office and we will arrange it at once."
I wanted to get him away from there, for already
I scented the purpose with which he had been
brought; and I was anxious to let him the shooting,
which was twenty miles off.
"Oh! you cannot go yet, dear," interposed Mrs.
Yeames; "you have not seen Laure. How is that
little darling, George, dear?"


36
A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"Very well, thank you. She has gone for a walk
with Miss Dalrymple."
"Miss Dalrymple? Who is she? a governess?"
asked Lynn.
"Something more than that," replied Mrs. Yeames,
"quite a friend of the family—a most estimable young
lady. She was a professional nurse, but—what do
you think ?—it turns out she is the niece of the
Earl of Dunover!"
This change in Mrs. Yeames's regard towards Ger-
trude was not surprising, considering what a sycophant
the widow was; but nothing could make me believe
that in the past twenty-four hours she had said not
a word about her to Lynn.
"Gad! I should like to see the young lady—if she
is young," said Lynn.
"Oh, she is I assure you, and excessively charming
and pretty," said Mrs. Yeames; "quite superiah! You
really must see her."
While this chatter was going on, I drew the draft
of Flexmore's will from my pocket, and, as if endors-
ing it, I wrote in pencil—
"They want yon to invite them to lunch. Don't."
This I handed to Flexmore.


MR. LYNN YE AMES. 37
"Here is a draft of the agreement you asked me
for," said I.
He looked at the words I had written, and thanked
me. Then he said he hoped his nephew would call
in and say good-bye before he left.
After that the visitors were bound to rise and say
"Good-bye for the present."
"We'll go to the office and settle about that shoot-
ing," said I, rising at the same time.
We left Mrs. Yeames at her cottage, and went on
to my place of business. Nothing was said about my
old friend Flex more until we had settled about the
shooting, when Lynn said, as he took up his stick
and deerstalker—
"Poor old nuncky looks precious shaky."
"He's much better than he was a month ago," I
replied.
"Shouldn't think he'd last long, though; should
you? He's sixty-two, you know."
"His life's worth ten years' purchase," said I
emphatically.
"Is it, though?" Then, after a pause—" I suppose
he's pretty warm?"


38 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"I -would give fifty thousand pounds for his estate
at this moment."
"Fifty thousand, eh?"
Another pause. Then in a careless tone—

"Who's this Miss Thingumbob the mater was
talking about?"
"Miss Dalrymple. She is a particularly sensible
young lady," I replied.


MR. LYNN YE AMES.
39
•'That means that she knows how to look after
Number One, I suppose?"
"If she did not know how to take care of herself,
I shouldn't call her sensible."
"Wouldn't mind marrying the old man if she had
the chance, eh?"
"I hope she would not, sincerely."
"Oh, you approve of his marrying Miss Dalrymple,
do you?"
"Undoubtedly—for his own sake and the sake of
his child. It's the very thing I have been persuading
him to do."
That sly look came into the corner of his blue eye
and I could fancy him saying to himself—
"Here's an old fool to let me into his client's secrets.
He was not sharp enough to see that my object was
to put him on the wrong scent, and avert his suspicion
from our actual wish and purpose.
"Well, if it is really to nuncky's interest to marry
the girl, I hope he may get her," said he, giving me
his hand; and we looked straight into each other's
face before saying good-bye. I read in his eyes,
"But he sha'n't marry her if I can help it." What
he read in mine I cannot say.
4


40
A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
Business took me to London, and kept me there
hard at it for a fortnight. I had scarcely time to
think of old Flexmore, but I went straight to him the
moment I returned. I found a perceptible difference
in his appearance: he looked a couple of years older.
"I am glad to see you, Tony," he said, holding my
hand in his and giving it a trembling shake from
time to time. "I am getting anxious about the will.
I can't last long, I know; and I am very unsettled
in my mind about many things."
"You shall sign the draft, and that will hold good
in case of accident, while the copy is being drawn up
in form. We'll settle that after dinner—for I mean
to dine with you, George. There's game cooking
I can smell it."
"Yes; we have had a good deal of game lately.
Lynn brings something nearly every day."
"What! he came to stay a week, and is not gone
yet?" I cried.
Flexmore shook his head.
"I don't think he means to go away either," he
said.
I beat a tattoo on the table while I arranged my
ideas on this subject.


MR. LYNN THAMES.
41
"What does he come here for? Do you know,
George?" I asked.
"To see Miss Dalrymple, I believe. He is paying
her marked attention."
"I knew it!" I cried, slapping my leg. "I saw
what he was after."
"Do you think he means to marry her? Is that
what you saw?"
"No; but I saw he had made up his mind to
prevent you marrying her!"


CHAPTER IV.
AN UNLUCKY BEGGAR.
What I had not
foreseen was the
means by which
Lynn Yeames pre-
cluded an offer of
marriage being made
to Miss Dalrymple
by his uncle. I had
not thought of his
making love to her him-
self; rather I anticipated
his taking some under-
hand measures, in conjunction with his mother, to
damage the young lady's character and prejudice
Flexmore against her.


AN UNLUCKY BEGGAR.
43
"You have not encouraged your nephew's visits,
have you, George?" I asked.
"No; at the same time I could not refuse to
receive him. There is nothing in his behaviour I
could take exception to. Indeed he has tried his
utmost to make himself agreeable."
"I don't doubt that for a moment, hang him! He
can make himself pleasant if he likes, or unpleasant
either. I warrant he's clever enough to keep his
mother out of sight, eh?"
"She has not called since the day you met her
here," Flexmore answered.
"And what effect has he made upon Miss Dalrymple
with his agreeable ways?"
"I am afraid she likes him. It is only natural
she should be brighter and gayer in his society.
I am very dull, and there are no visitors
here—none of her own age—and then Lynn is
clever and lively; ho plays nicely, and sings well
too"
"Oh, bother his singing! You don't mean to say
he has charmed you with his songs?"
"No. I cannot like him. I fear he is not sincere.
I may be prejudiced, but"


44 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"You're not. There's no love-making yet a while—
Nothing like an engagement?"
"Oh, no! He is simply very attentive, and she
could not be ungracious."
"We must stop it at that. There's no time to be
lost," said L
"Do you think he intends to marry her?"
"Not unless he's sure she has money. If your
money were settled on her, he would. We will set
his mind at rest on that subject."
"How?"
"You must sign your will, and give me permission
to make its provisions known to Dr. Awdrey. I wager
we will soon put Master Lynn's nose out of joint.
With the prospect of making that girl his wife, dear
old Awdrey will be another man. Lynn will sink into
insignificance by the side of that fine fellow, despite
his music and mongrel French."
I took care to be on the road about the time Awdrey
was starting on his rounds, and wheu he came up in
his gig I asked him to give me a lift as far as
Langly.
He had to shift half-a-dozen books from the seat
beside him to make place for me.


AN UNLUCKY BEGGAR.
45
"What on earth are you carting your library
about for?" I asked.
"They're only books of reference. Going along
straight roads and up-hill I can give the old pony
the reins and do a bit of work."
"You're burning the candle at both ends ; it's bad
enough to sit up half the night over your books."
"It is the only sort of pleasure a man in my posi-
tion can afford."
"Then you should alter your position."
"It's too late to begin a new career. It will come
all right one of these days, perhaps. People will have
more confidence in me at sixty. At present I don't
look as old as I feel."
"Families don't care for bachelor doctors, that's a
fact. You ought to marry \"
"Marry!" exclaimed Awdrey, with a grim laugh,
and then he looked ruefully into the distance.
"Yes, marry," I repeated. "There's Miss Dal-
rymple, you ought to marry her."
The colour mounted to his temple, but he said
nothing in reply to my suggestion.
"You've known her some time, and you can't have
known her without finding out that she has admirable


46
A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
qualities, besides being as pretty a little lady as eyes
could wish to rest on."
"That is true," he murmured, caressing the neck
of the old pony with the end of his whip.
"Then why haven't you proposed to her?" I asked
sharply.
"Because I'm an unlucky beggar," he replied
bitterly—"an unlucky beggar"
"No, you're not."
"What, do you think she likes me?" he asked,
with eager quickness—that being the sort of luck
he I thought alluded to.
"There's no one who doesn't like you."
"Oh, in a general way," said he, in a tone of dis-
appointment. "Well, supposing she had liked me
well enough to risk the chance of poverty, do you
think it would have been fair to take advantage
of her courage, knowing what an unlucky beggar
I am?"
"But you're not an unlucky beggar, I keep telling
you."
"Perhaps you will show me where my luck lies,
for I can't find it."
"I will show you," said I, "if I betray a client's


AN UNLUCKY BEGGAR. 47
confidence to do it. Read that," and I put the draft
of old Flexmore's will into his hand, open, that he
might have no hesitation in glancing at it.
He just ran his eye down the draft, which could
be read at a glance, for I pride myself on writing
legibly and bold, and then exclaimed, turning to me
in astonishment—
"Great Heavens! Why should Flexmore leave me
all this money?"
"That you may be in a position to marry the girl
you love, and that his child should have a good
woman as well as a good man to protect and be-
friend her."
He dropped his hand, and I folded up the draft
and slipped it back in my pocket. When I glanced
at him again he was staring into the distance, and
there was moisture on the lower lash of his eye.
"I am an unlucky beggar," he murmured again.
"You'll make me mad if you say that again,
Awdrey," said I impatiently.
"Too late!" he faltered. "If I had only known
this a week ago."
"Well, what difference would that have made?
The draft was made out a fortnight ago."


48 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"I did not know it. How could 1 guess such a
thing?"
"You know it now, and that's better than guessing
it a week ago."
He shook his head.
"Don't you know that Lynn Yearaes is in love
with her?" he asked.
"Lynn Yeames is a sneaking hound!" I said.
"A cunning, double-faced"
He interrupted me.
"You must not say anything to me against him.
He is my friend."
"Your friend ! How long has he been your friend?"
"A week to-morrow. He came to me, and in a
frank and loyal manner told me that he had heard I
was an old friend of Miss Dalrymple; he asked me if I
were more than her friend—if I intended to make her
my wife. I knew what that meant, and answered
that I had no intention to marry her, and that she
was free so far as I was concerned. 'In that case,'
said he, 'I shall make her my wife.' And we shook
hands on this understanding. With my hand in his,
he asked if he might consider me his friend, and I
answered heartily, yes!'"


CHAPTER V.
DIAMOND CUTS DIAMOND.
When I got back
to my office I set
about drawing up
Flexmore's will from
the draft lie had
agreed to, and every
word of it gave me
pleasure, for I saw
that it would bring
everything right in
the end.
"While Lynn Yeames is doubtful as to the
disposition of his uncle's property," said I to myself
"he will refrain from committing himself to an


DIAMOND CUTS DIAMOND.
51
actual promise of marriage. His affair with Miss Kite
will make him prudent in that respect; for he'll
know very well that he won't get off for £400 a
second time, if I can help it, and there'll be no
uncle to pty the costs. And when he does know that
his uncle has not left him a stiver, he'll drop Miss
Dalrymple as a monkey drops a hot chestnut; then
Awdrey will be freed from the Quixotic obligation he
was lured into making, he will marry Nurse Gertrude,
and all will end like a fairy story."
I was talking to myself in this strain as I proceeded
to engross the will, when who should come into my
office but the very person uppermost in my thoughts
—Lynn Yeames.
"I have called to speak to you about that shooting,
Mr. Keene," said he, offering his hand.
I put my quill in my mouth, and gave him my
hand, then I said—
"One moment, Mr. Yeames—I will just finish this
paragraph, and then we will go into your affair."
The fact was I first wanted to settle in my mind
how I should play with this young gentleman.
Would it do, I asked myself, to let him know how
his uncle intended to dispose of his money? Would


52
A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
that lead him to throw up at once a profitless game?
I decided that it would not do; for he would then
perhaps be urged to get his uncle by hook or by crook
to revoke this will. By the time I had got to the
next "whereas" I saw a better plan than that.
"Now, sir," said I, laying down my pen, turning
my chair to face my visitor, and nursing my hands
on my knee. "Now, sir, I am entirely at your
service."
I assumed a suavity of manner I had not before
employed with him, for I had to fight Mr. Lynn with
his own weapon, viz.—hypocrisy.
"I should like to rent the shooting for another
month, if I can," he said.
"There's no difficulty about that. Sir Bartlemy
Vere is going to Scotland, and I shall be only too glad
to let the shooting for him—especially as it may keep
you here longer than we hoped for."
He seemed rather puzzled by my civility: he had
not received much before. He looked at me keenly,
could not make much by that, and then proceeded to
look at his gaiters, tapping them carelessly with his
stick.
"I like the place better every day, and the life suits


DIAMOND CUTS DIAMOND. 53
me more than I expected. I suppose all men are more
or less creatures of circumstance and influenced by
surrounding conditions. I thought the life of towns
suited me while I was in them, but since I've been
here I have come to see what a delusive mistake an
artificial existence is. What can compare with a good
brisk walk over the breezy downs, the simple fare of a
country inn, the delight of lying down heavily fatigued,
to wake at sunrise refreshed and vigorous?"
"To be sure, sir," said I. "Nothing in towns can
compare with these pleasures, if one is properly con-
stituted for their enjoyment. And certainly from a
physical point of view you seem peculiarly fitted by
nature for the life of a country gentleman."
"I am, Mr. Keene—I feel that I am. I only regret
that I did not find out my mistake earlier. I have
done many foolish things in the past four years, many
things perhaps that are more than foolish. I should
wish to forget the past altogether, but that the re-
membrance may serve to strengthen me in following
a wiser and better course, if not a noble one."
I will undertake to say that no young man, not
naturally a humbug, ever made such a speech as this
on the spur of the moment. I don't believe in sudden


54
A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
conversions, and the precipitate turning over of new
leaves, by vigorous young fellows under five-and-
twenty. Plums that have the appearance of ripeness
before their season are rotten at the kernel invariably.
However I smiled and nodded my hearty approval
of his fine sentiments.
"I suppose a man could live here for a couple of
hundred a year?" he said, after a sigh over his mis-
spent youth.
"In a quiet way, he could live on that sum un-
doubtedly," said I.
"That's all I want. I made a fortunate investment
that brings me in about two hundred. Living with
my mother, who thinks of buying that cottage"
"I can get it for her on very reasonable terms,"
said I. with a show of eagerness.
"Of course., she would ask your assistance in the
purchase."
I rubbed my hands cheerfully, as if the prospect of
getting ten per cent, out of the purchase delighted
me, and promised to make a good bargain for Mrs.
Yeames.
"And so I hope to settle down to a peaceful life.
I feel better already with the prospect of it."


DIAMOND CUTS DIAMOND. 55
I shook his hand in cordial felicitation, though it
cost me an effort to swallow the humbug without
making a wry face. But I saw suspicion in the
corner of his blue eye.
"This will be good news indeed for your uncle, Mr.
Lynn," said I.
"Do you think he takes any interest in me?" he
asked, trying to look indifferent.
"I assure you he does. He was speaking about
you only yesterday—saying how much you had
changed for the better in the last fortnight. It is
only natural he should feel very deeply in this matter
and watch this change in your character with keen
delight. He is in failing health, you know." I
twiddled my thumbs, and looked at him significantly.
"You are his kinsman—remotely." I paused. "He
is particularly anxious about the future of his little
daughter." I coughed. "And though he may have
unbounded faith in my integrity he would naturally
prefer to place her welfare in the keeping of a
relative who could devote himself exclusively to her
interest. Up to the present time I have had the man-
agement of your uncle's estate, but of course it would
be optional on his successor to employ me as agent."
5


66
A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"I should not wish to take it out of your hands,
Mr. Keene—that is," he said quickly, seeing the
mistake into which he had been led by the excite-
ment of the moment, "if the property ever should
become mine."
"Thank you, Mr. Yeames. I'm sure I shall be
most happy to serve you, as I have served your
uncle, faithfully, and upon the lowest possible
terms."
"I shan't question your terms. Faithful services
should be liberally rewarded in my opinion."
I thanked him effusively, and sighed as if I had
had a load taken off my mind.
"Well, sir," said I, "you cannot, of course, wish
me to divulge professional confidence; but I may
tell you this. Your uncle has instructed me to
draw up his will, and this is it." I laid my hand
on the will. "And I may add for your further
satisfaction, that had your character been other
than he has found it in the past fortnight the terms
of this will"—I patted the sheet impressively and
dropped my voice—" would have been very different
from what they are."
He was completely taken in; and so overcome


DIAMOND CUTS DIAMOND.
57
with astonishment and delight to find, as he believed,
that he was heir to £50,000, that for some minutes
he could not command his thoughts, but simply
answered "yes" or "no" to my remarks without really
following what it was I talked about. He was
thinking what he would do with that money
when he got it. However, he recovered his self-
possession before he left, and when we shook hands
in parting, that cunning look was in his eyes. I
know well enough what was in his thoughts.
"You old rascal!" he was saying to himself. "I
can see now why you were so precious civil. You
want me to let you go on fingering those £50,000
when they are mine." That was just what I wanted
him to believe.
In the evening there came a couple of brace of
partridges with his card attached. At the first
moment I felt disposed to pitch them into the yard
for the cat to eat; but as the result of second
thoughts I ate them myself, and found them just
as good as if I had given an honest poulterer
half-a-crown a brace for them.


CHAPTER VI.
TWO PHASES OP A GOOD GIRL'S CHARACTER.
I DO not know whether I am particularly sharp
in penetrating character—though I have a decent
opinion of my ability in that respect—or whether
other people are particularly obtuse; but this is a
fact—Lynn Yeames succeeded in deceiving every-
body but me.
He was of that class of charitable people who
will give a guinea at any time to have their names
in a subscription list, no matter what the object
be—and five to head it. Lynn Yeames, Esq., of
"The Hut," (as with affected humility he called his
mother's cottage when she had bought it), was
down for everything. He interested himself in
local matters, siding always with the majority; he
became a member of the County Club, bought a


A GOOD GIRL'S CHARACTER.
59
horse and got admitted to the hunt; and with his
good looks, manly bearing, admirable horsemanship,
and skilful freehandedness made himself generally
popular. One way and another I reckoned he was
living up to nearer eight hundred than two hundred
a year.
"A pretty rod you're laying in pickle for yourself,
my boy," said I to myself, and chuckled to think
how he would have to draw in his horns when he
found that he was down in his uncle's will for a
trifling legacy of one hundred pounds instead of the
£50,000 he was calculating upon.
All this time he was paying assiduous attention
to Miss Dalrymple. He saw, though he said nothing
about it to me, that his uncle was thinking of
Laure's future, and wished to provide for her
perpetual association with Gertrude, and he knew
the hold he had upon old Flexmore through this
pretended attachment to her. Cunning rascal!
I let him go on, conscious that he would not go
too far. It was not likely that, feeling now assured
of that large inheritance, he would pledge himself
to marry a penniless girl. With his uncle's fortune
and the effect he was now producing, he would be


60 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
able to take the pick of the county when he wished
to marry; and there were within twenty miles many
girls more showy than quiet, unpretentious, little
Miss Dalrymple, girls with money, and much more
to the taste of such a man as he. But though he
would not be rash enough to actually engage
himself, it was pretty certain that he would
insidiously lead my unsuspecting little friend to
believe that he intended to marry her, and I feared
that he might obtain such a hold upon her affection
that when he threw up the game, as he inevitably
would when he discovered that there was nothing
to win by it, the effect upon her would be serious.
She was not a flirt; she had never cut up her
heart into morsels and scattered it about amongst
a crowd of admirers; her heart was whole to be
given to one man, and one only. She was serious
and earnest in all things, and it seemed to me
possible that she might never care to give to
a second man the affection that had been despised
by the first. For this reason I resolved if I got the
opportunity to shake her faith in Mr. Lynn Yeames.
One day I met her alone in the road that cuts
through the Hazledown Woods.


A GOOD GIRL'S CHARACTER.
61
"Here is a beautiful morning, Miss Dalrymple,"
said I, holding her hand.
"Oh I it is beautiful!" she exclaimed, looking round
her. "See how the rime still stands on the brake,
and look how the drops glisten on the gossamer.
And what lovely tints there are on the beeches, and
the brambles down there."
"You are thinking that they owe their beauty to
decay."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because your tone is sad."
"The woods are sad; but I love the country for all
that," she hastened to add.
"Yet you would prefer at this moment to be in
your London hospital. You feel that you are wasting
your time here—that's the fact, isn't it?"
"I should be sorry to think that," she replied, with
quiet gravity.
"But you are. Here you are saving the life of one
child; there you might be saving a dozen."
"They will be saved without me."
"And little Laure would be lost—that is true."
"Let us talk about the country," she said, as we
walked on.


68
A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"No; we will talk about people. Lawyers and
ladies do not care for things; the business of their
lives is with people. I've noticed an instance of this
in picture galleries: the men, not lawyers, hang about
the landscapes; the women flock round the figure
pictures. I warrant you skip description of scenery
in novels, and go on to where dialogue indicates
human interest; if you don't it's because you are too
conscientious."
She laughed lightly and then said—
"Well, whom shall we talk about?"
"There is a man worth talking about," said I,
pointing down to the cross roads, where I spied Dr.
Awdrey jogging along in his gig on his beggarly
round.
"Oh, I don't think there is a better man than he
in all the world!" she cried, with enthusiasm.
"If he were only a little more practical," said I.
"I can't see that he would be better for that,
though he might have been more prosperous."
"How?"
"Do you know what he used to do at the hos-
pital?"
"No."



"THERE 18 A MAN WORTH TALKING ABOUr."


64
A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"Sit down by the cots and tell the little ones fairy
tales."
"That's characteristic of him," said I laughing.
"Well?"
"The matron did not like it. She thought he was
neglecting his duty; at any rate, she said so. And
one day I heard Dr. Templeton say to him,' Awdrey,
if you want to get on, you'll give the brats physic
instead of stories.'"
"And that made no difference to his course of treat-
ment, I suspect?"
"Not a bit. And oh, how the children loved him!"
"And hated the matron. I can guess the rest, he
had to clear out of the hospital?"
She inclined her bead, and presently said—
"I sometimes think he would have died a martyr
had he lived a long while ago."
"I don't see what else there is in store for him
now if he is left to his own devices. There he goes,
to look after a lot of thankless vagabonds, who'll
never pay him for saving their lives."
"It is a higher form of martyrdom, I suppose."
"I don't believe in martyrdom."
"What would you have him do?"


A GOOD GIRL'S CHARACTER. 65
"Make the beggars pay. Give all he can spare to
charities as an advertisement. You must be practical
to be good. Keep pace with the times. Advertise
yourself and make money."
"That would not make him better."
"It would increase his power of doing good, and
enable him to live happily."
She looked thoughtfully before her for a minute,
then she said—
"Do you think he could ever be happy—in the
ordinary sense of the word?"
"Yes, if he married."
"Married!" she echoed, in surprise, as if such an
idea had never before occurred to her. "I cannot
think of that as a cure for unhappiness in his
case."
"Why not?"
"He is so—so serious."
"And ought not a man to be serious when he
marries? Is it not one of the gravest responsibilities
a man can take on himself—or a woman either, for
that?"
"I mean to say that he seems so absorbed in his
studies."


66 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"Because it is his only escape from misery/'
She made no response.
"You must not forget that this serious man, despite
being absorbed in study, could bewitch little children
with fairy stories."
"I do not think he will ever marry," she said,
shaking her head gravely, after a pause.
"Why not?" I asked; "he is a man—and a fine
man, too."
She was silent.
"The only difficulty," I continued, "is in getting
any one to have him."
She looked surprised.
"A man without superficial attractions and without
money," said I, shrugging my shoulders, "what chance
has he?"
"Do you think all girls are either silly or mer-
cenary?" she asked.
"There's a third section: but they don't care for
good men; they prefer rakes."
I have mentioned the girl's trick of blushing, and
looking sidelong in the expectation of seeing this
home-thrust bring the colour up to her temples, I was
surprised to see that it prod uced rather a contrary effect.


A GOOD GIRL'S CHARACTER.
67
She blanched, and echoed my word in a low tone of
deprecation.
"I don't mean an absolutely bad man, but one who
thinks he is reformed," said I, "and attributes, or
leads it to be imagined that he owes, his reformation
to the girl's influence."
I was morally certain that Lynn Yeames had not
ascribed his change to the effects of a country life in
his conversation with Gertrude, however he had
chosen to represent it to me.
"It flatters the girl's vanity to think that she has
redeemed the man," I added.
"Is it vanity and nothing else that makes one
delight in doing good?"
"I can't say, my dear—not having had much
experience in that way myself; but this I know,
that every good girl must be doing good, ought to
be doing good, or thinks she is doing good."
"We are not worth much if we do not, you
think?" she asked.
"Yes, that is what I do think—not only of girls,
but men as well (bar lawyers). I speak of good
girls, and no good girl would be content to be a
mere toy, an idle plaything, for a man's leisure


68
A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
moments. And the wish to save some man from
evil courses too often leads the girl herself into an
evil course."
"An evil course?" she said, interrogatively.
"Yes: the evil course of putting faith in appear-
ances, and lending a credulous ear to empty pro-
testations. That course may lead to irremediable
misfortune and life-long unhappiness."
This was plain enough in all conscience, yet she
did not allow herself to show that she saw the
personal allusion to her own case. She was a
wonderfully self-possessed young woman, and more-
over had too much principle to suffer the opinion
of others to bias her own estimate of a trusted
friend; indeed, I believe that her loyal heart became
only the more staunch by the defence of those she
loved against an accusation in which she herself
found no reason to participate. Of this she gave
convincing proof later on, as I shall show.
Soon after this a ball was given, in aid of some
philanthropic cause, of course—I forgot what; people
will dance or dine to alleviate any misery that
might have been prevented at half the cost—and
equally of course, Lynn Yeames was a steward and


A GOOD GTFL'S CHARACTER.
69
figured prominently in the advertisements. Well,
whether it was to please herself, or to please Lynn
Yeames, or just to show she did not value my
warning at two straws, I don't know; but this is
certain, Miss Dairymple went to that ball under
the protection of Mrs. Yeames, who, ever since the
discovery at the flower-show, had shown herself
mighty civil to the young lady. I went also, not to
dance, it is certain, but to keep in with my clients
for I hold that a man to succeed must be seen every-
where, and not bury himself in his study like poor
Dr. Awdrey, who, I dare say, was sitting by some
ailing pauper, or grinding away with a pestle and
mortar and a book before him, while the girl he
loved was being hugged and twizzled round by his
rival.
I look upon dancing as a protest of natural man
against civilization, and if you just close your ears to
the music and simply look at twenty or thirty couples
of men and women hopping about like demented
grasshoppers you must admit that the least said
about the march of intellect in this nineteenth
century the better. Nevertheless, it charmed me
to watch Miss Dalrymple. Her eyes black as sloes


70
A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
with excitement, her face glowing with healthy
exercise, her pretty figure and supple body taking

on the prettiest curves with her graceful movements,
her little feet moving quicker than the eye could


72
A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
been outweighed by the pain of thinking she could
never be to him but a beautful vision to look upon.
That is what he would have felt, not knowing
what I knew, and how all things would turn out for
the best in the end—how Lynn would be discom-
fited, how his real disposition would be seen when
he discovered the mistake I had led him into, how
Miss Dalrymple would then see clearly the fate she
had escaped, and how her heart would turn to the
really good man when she was disenchanted of the
merely showy one.
But this I could not have hinted to him, so on the
whole I was glad to think there were paupers and
pestles and mortars and books to keep him away.
Miss Dalrymple was recognized as the belle of the
ball—she could have filled her programme a dozen
times, I know. She danced every dance—three with
Lynn Yeames—the first, the supper dance, and the
last.
I enjoyed seeing her dance with every one except
with Lynn Yeames' and it stirred up all the bile
in my nature when he took her hand and put his
arm round her waist. He trod on one old gentle-
man's toe, and I wished it had been mine: for in


CHAPTER VII.
LYNN FALLS INTO A TRAP.
T DID not anticipate any serious consequences from
that ball. It seemed to me that Miss Dalrymple
was entirely occupied with the delight of dancing, and
doubtless no thought of anything else could have
entered her head without being suggested to her.
But that was not the case with Lynn Yeames. One
can imagine what passes in the mind of a fox as he
looks on a brood of ducklings sporting in a pond.
He is just lying perdu licking his chops and waiting
for the plumpest and nicest to come off the water.
Some one, a lady, I will not tell you who, has just
looked over my shoulder and whispered—"Try to
be just!" Very well, then; the most generous—
supposition I can make with regard to Lynn Yeames
is that he was carried away by the good looks of


LYNN FALLS INTO A TRAP.
75
Miss Dalrymple, and perceiving that she was the
best woman of the throng, both in appearance and
family connection, he magnanimously resolved to sink
the consideration of her being poor and resolved
to secure her at any price, no matter how rich he
might be by the death of his uncle.
Somehow or other he proposed to her that night
—between the dances, perhaps when he led her into
the adjoining room for refreshment, though more prob-
ably the old woman, his mother, shammed sleep
in the brougham to give her son the opportunity as
they were taking Miss D. home. How I came to
know of it was in this wise—
Two mornings after the ball Dr. Awdrey called on
me looking as yellow as an old title deed.
"You must go up to Flexmore House at once,"
he said, without asking me how I was or any other
preliminary civility.
"What for?" I asked, for his manner was so set
and firm I could make nothing of it.
"Flexmore is in a critical condition—there's not a
moment to spare."
"What's the matter with him?" I asked, as I
took my hat from the peg.





LYNN FALLS INTO A TRAP.
77
"Heart disease. He had an attack yesterday
morning; another may be fatal."
"Poor old fellow! Does he know his danger?
Is he conscious?"
"Yes, perfectly. He knows his condition; that is
why he wishes to see you at once."
"What does he want me for?" I asked, suddenly
guessing at the truth from the doctor's manner.
"He wants to see you about that fool of a will
you drew up for him."
I was about to defend "that fool of a will"; but
he drew me away impatiently.
"Get into my trap," he said, "I tell you there is
no time to waste."
"Aren't you coming with me?" I asked, as he
put the reins in my hand.
"No; I have another case to attend. I can do
nothing for Flexmore at present; Miss Dalrymple
has my instructions and I can rely on her carrying
them out."
I drove over to Flexmore House suspecting mis-
chief. I found my old friend in bed, but perfectly
calm and collected. Miss Dalrymple was in the room
with little Lauie, who clung to her hand as though


78 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
she felt that soon there would be but that to protect
and befriend her. Flexmore took my hand with a
smile—a silent greeting that was more touching than
words.
"My dear," he said to Miss Dalrymple, "you must
leave us for a few minutes, please; we have a little
matter of business to discuss, my old friend and I."
She went from the room with the child, after
warning me in a whisper that Mr. Flexmore was not
to be excited, and that my visit should be short.
"Well, what is it, George?" I asked, going back
to the bedside.
"Tony, you must alter that will or draw up another
at once."
A grunt on my part told him that I understood,
if I did not approve, what he said.
"You thought right to tell Dr. Awdrey of the pro-
vision I had made?" said he.
"Yes, and I very sincerely wish I hadn't. Awdrey's
a fool," said I.
"No, he is not, Tony. He's a fine fellow in every
way—a grand fellow."
"Well, what has he done lately to give you that
opinion, hey?"


LYNN FALLS INTO A TRAP. 79
"He refuses to be Laure's guardian or trustee for
her fortune."
"He can't get out of it if you let the will stand;
we shall see"
"But the will must not stand; he has shown me
that. For the child's sake, for that dear girl, Ger-
trude's sake, it must te altered. They must not be
separated. The money must be left in trust, and her
guardian and trustee must be my nephew, Lynn
Yeames."
"Nonsense! As soon as Lynn Yeames finds he
has nothing, he'll cease to pester Miss Dalrymple;
he'll never marry her if he gets the money ; and then
how is your little Laure to live with her? A proof
that he doesn't mean to marry her is that he has
been hanging about her for months, but has carefully
refrained from binding himself to any engagement."
"You are wrong, Keene. He proposed to her the
night before last."
This took my breath away, and left me no ground
to stand on.
"And she accepted him?" I gasped, after an in-
erval of silence.
•'She did. Yeames told Dr Awdrey yesterday


80
A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
morning. He came at once to me, and arrived at
the very moment I was seized with the attack—other-
wise I might not have survived it. He was with me
all night; and this morning, finding me sufficiently
recovered to listen to argument, he had this out
with me. He has the highest opinion of Lynn—so
has Miss Dalrymple, or she would certainly not have
accepted him. I myself see no reason to disbelieve
in him. In fact, it's only yon, Tony, who stick out so
obstinately against him, and you, as every one knows,
are a man of strong prejudices—very strong pre-
judices."
"la man of strong prejudices?" I gasped. "I,
a lawyer, whose business it is to weigh both sides of
a question and decide impartially? I, an old man
of the world"
"I don't care what you may be; I know you're
an obstinate, pig-headed old fellow. God bless you,
though!—but you must let me have my way—T
know I am right. No argument will change me—
I must have my way."
A gentle rap at the door reminded me that I
must not excite my poor, weak-minded old friend,
nor prolong my visit unduly.


LYNN FALLS INTO A TRAP. 81
"Good," said L "I'll draw up another will. It
shall be just as you wish."
"Thank you; thanks, Tony. You have merely
to scratch out Awdrey's name, and substitute my
nephew's. The will is in that box; the key"
"Oh, I don't want that. I have the draft at my
office. There must be no scratching out in a thing of
this kind. A new will must be properly drawn up."
He gave me his hand, and held it with an expres-
sive look; it seemed to say to me "We have been
friends, you and I, many years, Anthony Keene, and
soon it will be ended. You will be a friend to me
to the last, and let no opinion of your own impede
the fulfilment of this my last wish;" and I nodded,
for I could not speak because of my emotion. Then
I went away, determined to carry out his instructions
to the letter, and return with the will for him to
sign as quickly as I could.
As I left the house, I spied Lynn Yeames coming
down the road; but I had no patience to speak to
him, and jumping in the doctor's gig, I drove off as
quickly as I could.
He saw me. My haste must have disquieted him.
"What's that old lawyer doing there?" he doubtless


82
A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
asked himself. I believe he partly suspected the
truth : that Flexmore had sent for me to alter his will
—anything but a pleasant prospect to him, who be-
lieved that the will already made was in his favour.
I kept the gig at the door; and then, going into
my office, I fetched out the draft of the old will and
a sheet of foolscap to write the new one upon. Just
at that moment my housekeeper came in to say that
my lunch was served. I had an hour's work before
me; it would take me another hour and a half to
carry it over to Flexmore, get his signature, and
return. Whether I took the will over in an hour and
a half or in two hours did not make much differ-
ence in my belief; but it mattered a good deal
whether I went without lunch for two and a half
hours; and reflecting that a man always works better
and quicker if his physical wants are supplied, I
resolved to knock off my meal before I went any
farther.
Just as I was finishing, there was a ring at the
bell, and my housekeeper brought in word that Mr.
Lynn Yeames wished to see me. "Ah, ah!" thought
I, "he wants to pump me again, does he? All right,
bo he shall." So I bade the housekeeper show him


LYlSnST FALLS INTO A TRAP. 83
into my office, and say I would be with him in a
minute or two. I emptied my glass, and rose to join
my visitor in the next room.
In that moment it struck me that I had left the
draft of the old will on the office table beside the
sheet of fresh foolscap.
I went on tiptoe to the door, and peeped through
the green taffety blind. Lynn Yeames was standing
by the table, looking round him curiously; I could
see him distinctly, but he could not see me, by reason
of the light from the office window falling on the
blind. Quickly he caught up the draft, and ran his
eye down it.
Now this being only a draft, had neither date
nor signature, and he must have jumped at once to
the conclusion that it was the copy of a will I was
about to draw up; and seeing that by this draft all
Flexmore's money was left to Awdrey, it must have
convinced him that this instrument was intended to
revoke that will which I had led him to believe was
made in his favour.
The sheet fell from his hand; he stooped hastily,
picked it up and replaced it on the table. I moved
a chair, made a clatter with an empty plate as if I


84 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
were just rising from my lunch, then I opened the
door and entered my office briskly. Lynn Yeames
was seated at some distance from the table, and
looking as pale as a muffin.
"How do you do, sir?" said I. "You don't look
quite yourself this morning."
"I am upset: my uncle is in a critical condition
—I don't know whether you know it."
"Yes," said I, shaking my head gravely. "I'm
afraid it is all over with my old friend this time.
We must prepare for the worst—we must prepare for
the worst, Mr. Yeames," I repeated, significantly.
It told, that shot, though he pretended not to be hit.
"Yes, yes," said he uneasily; "I came over to
tell you—I thought you ought to know, in case
there was any legal matter to arrange."
"As it happens there is a very important matter
to arrange. I have just come back from Flexmore
House—you heard nothing there?"
"Nothing—my uncle could not see me. What is
the matter?" 1
"Well—of course I can place confidence in you,
Mr. Yeames?"
"I give you my word of honour that—yon may


LYNN FALLS INTO A TRAP.
85
depend upon my secrecy," he hastened to assure
me.
"Good, sir. I trust to your honour. Your uncle
is about to revoke his will." And I glanced signifi-
cantly at the papers on the table. "I assure you,"
I continued, " I have done all in my power to per-
suade him to the contrary."
"Of course you have, in your own interest," said
he savagely.
"One must consider one's own interests some-
times ; and after having had the management of the
estate for so many years"
"What on earth has induced him to revoke it?"
he asked, taking very slight pains to conceal his
chagrin.
I hummed and hahed for some time, and then
I said, "I believe he has been considerably in-
fluenced by Dr. Awdrey."
"Good Heavens!" he exclaimed. "What has he
been talking about?"
"Well," said I still with a good deal of sham hesi-
tation, "I believe you were indiscreet enough to
inform him that you had proposed to, and been
accepted by, Miss Dalrymple."


86 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
He started as I told him this.
"To what use has the rascal put that knowledge?"
he asked.
"We must not call Dr. Awdrey a rascal, sir,"
said I. "All of us have our own interests to look
after. And really Dr. Awdrey's case is plausible
enough."
"I don't understand you; what do you mean?
he asked sharply.
"You see it's almost an open secret, at any rate
the fact has for some time been known to Dr.
Awdrey that my old friend Flexmore wished Miss
Dalrymple to marry the doctor—one of those curious
fads that invalids occasionally take up. I don't
know if you have ever remarked"
"Go on, go on, for heaven's sake !" he exclaimed,
interrupting me impatiently.
"Well, sir, lately it has been obvious that Flex-
more's daughter Laure has formed a very strong
attachment for Miss Dalrymple—a most extraordinary
attachment."
"Yes, I know all about that. Go on."
"Well, you see it is obvious that Miss Dalrymple
cannot marry both you and Dr. Awdrey; while, at.


LYNR FALLS INTO A TRAP. 87
the same time, it is equally evident that were
you the child's guardian, and from any unforeseen
accident you might alter your intention with regard
to matrimony, Miss Dalrymple could only marry Dr.
Awdrey by separating herself from the child Laure."
"But I could be trustee to the child's fortune, and
leave her guardianship to Miss Dalrymple, couldn't
I?"
"Oh, certainly, if there were time to persuade
your uncle to such an arrangement, which," I added,
with a profound sigh, "I fear there is not."
He turned his back upon me, and going to the
window looked out into the thick gray mist, while
I, with two or three little coughs, seated myself at
the table, and began laboriously to draw up the new
will, my spectacles low down on my nose, and one
hand on the old draft, which I frequently consulted.
"How long will you be before you take that thing
up to the house to be signed ?" asked Lynn Yeames
who, as I lifted my eyes, I found was regarding me
attentively.
I looked at my watch, and then raising my eye^
brows at the draft—
"Dr. Awdrey was good enough to lend me his gig
7


88 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
that no time should be lost; and if all goes well, I
shall be at Flexmore's house at half-past two—near
as possible."
He drew his hat a little lower over his brows, and
quitted my office without a word. As the door
slammed, I laid down my pen, put my hands on
my knees, and had a good chuckle, for I felt I had
played that game of cross purposes very well.
But how would it end? That I could not foresee.
That he had gone off with some definite and imme-
diate purpose I was convinced. Would he in the
next hour undo himself completely by throwing off
Miss Dalrymple and making his uncle understand
that he had no intention of marrying her? It would
be sharp work; but men lose no time when their
fortunes are at stake. "We shall see," said I, re-
turning to my work, for which I hoped there
would be no need when I went up for Flexmore's
signature.


90 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
trees that skirt the road on either side increased
the obscurity. However the nag kept on her ambling
trot—I believe the beast was so accustomed to the
road that she was dozing best part of the time—till
presently, smash! Down she went without any kind
of warning, up dashed the seat of the gig, and out I
flew, as though I had been shot from a catapult.
I was on my legs in a moment, for my first thought
was of the will I had stuck under the seat cushion,
and I feared the nag would start up and bolt with
it. I could hear her breathing heavily; she did not
attempt to move. I ran back in that direction, when
—bang! over I went again, flat on my nose. I had
felt something strike against my shins, and as I
ruse to my feet once more, I discovered the cause
of both falls—a cord was stretched across the
road.
It slackened as I touched it, and the next moment
was whisked out of my hands. Was this the wanton
mischief of boys, or the sinister design of some one
bent upon plunder?
"My name's Anthony Keene, and you shall suffer
for this, you vagabonds, whoever you are !" I shouted,-
as I groped my way to the gig. I am well known


/ FALL OUT OF A TRAP.
91
in Coneyford, and I knew that if they were boys
they would scuttle off on hearing my name.
There was no sound of voice or footfall—only the
old nag gasping on the ground; then I felt sure
it was the work of a man. But I was not fearful
of any further mischief, for the thief must be fool-
hardy indeed to attack an old lawyer, who is more
likely to get him into trouble than yield much in
the way of booty.
Feeling about the poor old horse, I found that
both the shafts were broken, so there was no thought
of going on in the gig even if the horse's legs were
not broken as well. The will was just where I had
stuck it, under the strap of the cushion; I clapped
it in my pocket, and, after a moment's reflection,
started off to walk the remainder of the journey,
leaving horse and trap in the road to take their
chance.
A nice walk I had—tumbling into a ditch on the
right, and then a ditch on the left, running flat up
against a brick wall, and then pitching on to a pile
of flints by the roadside, all the time in such dark-
ness and impenetrable fog, that for all I knew I
might have been walking half the time in a circle.


92 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
To make matters worse, I found my nose was bleed-
ing from the fall I got over the cord. It seemed
to me I' should never get to my journey's
end.
However, after a time it grew less obscure, which
made me think I must have got clear of the Beagle
Woods, which was a comfort; and shortly afterwards
I heard footsteps approaching.
"Who's there?" I called, when I felt it was time
to speak, lest I ran into something fresh.
"Sam Martin. Be that you, Muster Keene?"
replied a well-known voice.
"Yes, it is. How far am I from Mr. Flexmore's
house?" ,
"About half a mile—keep straight on by the paling.
Thought it were you, Mr. Keene, by your little
squeaking voice. Shall I turn back wi' ye?"
"No. Go straight on. I've left the doctor's trap
in the road—horse down—see what you can do with
it, Sam Martin, and take care no one else comes
into mischief over it."
I got to the palings by the park, and kept them in
touch until at length I reached the carriage drive
gate of Flexmore House. B}T this time, what with


/ FALL OUT OF A TRAP. 93
one accident and another, it must have been pretty
nearly four o'clock.
There were lights in the house. Before the door
stood Lynn Yeames's mare, Flexmore's gardener
holding his head.
"Afternoon, sir," said he in an undertone that
spoke of calamity. There was foreboding silence
also on the part of the maidservant as she opened
the sitting-room door.
Miss Dalrymple was on her knees before a big
chair drawn near the fire, in which little Laure sat
her face buried in her hands. They were not aware
of my presence, so softly had the maid opened and
closed the door.
Miss Dalrymple drew the child's head upon her
bosom and bent her lips down to the little brow>
and then began to murmur words of sympathy and
love in her low, sweet, tender voice. I knew what
had happened, and would not disturb that gentle
communion. I stood there looking at that touching
picture through tears that dimmed my eyes. It may
have been only the effect of the fog, those tears;
it may have been the reflection that I should never
more hear my old friend's voice, or it may have been


94 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
this testimony of a woman's compassion. Dealing
with men and women, for the most part hard
and selfish, makes one cynical, and blunts the edge
of fine feeling; yet there is still, thank God, a corner
of my heart soft and susceptible to the touch of
pity.
Presently the child threw her arms about Miss
Dalrymple's neck, and cried—
"But we shall never be parted. You will stay
with me always?"
"Yes, dear little one—I will stay with you
always. Nobody shall part you and me," replied
Miss Dalrymple.
Then a long sigh fluttered up from the child's
heart, and still clingiDg to her neck she pressed her
cheek to this dear friend's face, and gazed into the
fire.
And so I left them—opening and closing the door
behind me in silence.
"Where is Mr. Yeames?" I asked of the maid
who waited in the hall.
"Up stairs in master's room, sir," she replied lugu-
briously.
Yeames was standing by his uncle's bedside; he


96 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
myself. The old boy was shocking bad when I
arrived here after leaving you. I went over to
Awdrey at once, but he was out; came back, and
by that time nuncky was pretty near the finish."
"Was he in a state of unconsciousness at that time
or not?"
"Well, he was conscious enough to ask for you,
and wonder why you hadn't turned up."
It occurred to me that Lynn Yeames, seeing his
uncle's precarious condition, had himself stretched
that cord for me instead of going for Dr. Awdrey,
in order to prevent my arriving in time to get
Flexmore's signature to the will.
"Do you know why I 'did not turn up,' as you call
it?" I asked sharply.
"Not I; but you're not sorry, I suppose, that you
did not get here in time?"
It was on the tip of my tongue to retort "Not so
sorry as you may have reason to be, Mr. Yeames;"
but I said nothing, for I wished to see how far this
young man's fatuity would carry him, and contented
myself with thinking of the bitter punishment in store
for him when he should find out how completely he
had deceived himself. Certainly no self-deception


I FALL OUT OF A TRAP.
97
could be more complete than his. Assured of my
venality, led away by his own hopes and over-
confidence in the successful issue of his cunning,
he apparently felt as sure of being possessed of his
uncle's fortune as though the thousands were already
in his hands.


CHAPTER IX.
A PELLET OF PAPER.
rjlHERE are some men who have so little self-re-
spect that they do not keep up a decent pretence
of virtue when the object is achieved for which it was
first assumed, and Lynn Yeames was one of these.
He already took upon himself the airs of master
in that house, and with a grand patronage bade me
come, down and take a glass of sherry. I complied,
for after the shaking I had received I was in no
mood to refuse.
We went into the sitting-room. Laure was lying
on the couch holding the hand of Miss Dalrymple,
who sat on a stool by her side.
"Oh, haven't you got- all that over yet?" Lynn
asked petulantly, glancing at them. "Sit down,
Keene." He touched the belL "It's absurd nonsense


A PELLET OF PAPER.
99
to encourage morbid feeling and mawkish sentiment
about a thing that's been foreseen for weeks—an
inevitable thing a sherry and biscuits for Mr.
Keene." The latter addressed to the servant who
came to the door. "I say it's nonsense!"
"Lynn!" said Miss Dalrymple, in a tone of
mingled surprise, regret, and remonstrance.
"I say it's nonsense," he repeated harshly, "and
you ought to know it, Gertrude, with your ex-
perience; the child has been petted and pampered
till she's unhealthy. It's exactly what my mother
has maintained all along. However I shall alter all
that—the girl will be packed off to a good, wholesome
boarding-school as soon as the funeral is over."
Miss Dalrymple looked perfectly amazed by this
extraordinary outburst; she could not understand the
meaning of it. I could well enough.
Mr. Yeames had already thought better of his pro-
posal to make penniless Miss Dalrymple a partaker
in his fortune, and did not care how soon there
should be a breach between them. It was this rather
than any sudden fit of dislike to Laure—whom he
detested always—which had led him to make this
savage onslaught.


A PELLET OF PAPER. 101
sharply in the pocket from which he bad flicked out
this pellet, then shook his handkerchief and looked
about the floor at his feet.
"What dreadful weather, Miss Dalrymple," said I,
setting down my glass.
Lynn Yeames went hastily from the room, snatch-
ing his hat out of Laure's hand as he passed.
I picked up the pellet of paper and slipped it into
my waistcoat pocket.
"Oh, is this true, dear—is it true?" cried little
Laure under her breath, as she joined Miss Dal-
rymple. "Will he send me away from you? Will
he part us?"
"No, my child," said I, going up to them. "Take
this assurance from an old man who loves you for
your father's sake, and Nurse Gertrude for her own
—you shall not be parted."
I left them. As I passed through the ball I
caught sight of Lynn Yeames on the landing above
with a lighted candle, looking about for the pellet
of paper I was carrying away in my pocket.


A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 103
of a practical and methodical turn of mind: he will
have recourse to it more frequently than he antici-
pates, and find it occasionally of inestimahle value.
Well, into this drawer, Nest Y, I put that pellet
of paper after making a careful examination of it,
and indexed it thus:—
"Yeames.—Pellet of paper jerked out of his pocket
day of Flexmore's death, Dec. 18, 188—."
I shall have more to tell about this later on—a
good deal more.
In the evening of that day I saw Dr. Awdrey; he
came to me with a face as long as a fiddle.
"That's an unfortunate accident that happened to
you this afternoon," he said.
"It might have been worse," said I, feeling my
nose. "I came plump down on it. Wonder I didn't
break it."
"I'm not speaking of that," said he, putting down
his hat and seating himself.
"Oh, you're thinking of your property." The poor
old nag had put his shoulder out, and had to be
killed, and both shafts of the gig were smashed.
"Well, if your old horse had not been thrown down,
you would have been thousands out of pocket."
8


104 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"You know what I mean: it is an unfortunate
accident that prevented your arriving in time for
Flexmore to sign the new will as he wished."
"There we differ. I do not regard the accident
as unfortunate from that point of view."
"Well, what is to be done about it? The old will
is virtually revoked."
"But actually it stands as good as ever it was, and
so it shall stand."
"Supposing I refuse to accept the guardianship of
Flexmore's child."
"You can't refuse. Common sense will not let
you; humanity will not let you; I will not let you.
Have you seen Lynn Yeames since his uncle's death?"
"No; he had left Flexmore House five minutes
before I arrived. I hear he called at my house, but I
came by the other road. Since then I have been
unable to find him anywhere."
"That's a pity. I should have liked you to see
him as I saw him. He is so confident of being his
uncle's heir that he has thrown off all restraint, every
pretence of decency, and shows himself the hectoring
bully, the heartless rascal I have always believed
him to be."


A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 105
"Impossible;" he exclaimed, looking incredulously
/yvi—
at me, who alone of all men he doubted and looked
-A.
upon as misguided by prejudice.
"I tell you it is a fact. He was brutal to little
Laure, and he insulted Miss Dalrymple before my
face. Why? Because now that he believes himself
master of his uncle's fortune, he wishes to break off
his engagement with her. He has no more intention
of marrying her now than he had the first day he
came to Coneyford."
"I can't understand you—a man so clear in judg-
ment on most things"
"Get that nonsense out of your head, doctor. I tell
you I am no more prejudiced against him than I am in
favour of you. He's a selfish, heartless scoundrel.''
"You will never make me believe that of Lynn
Yeames."
"He shall make you believe it of himself. Abstain
from letting him know how Flexmore's money is to
be disposed of, and watch him between now and the
reading of the will. He already talks of sending the
child away to a boarding-school, and, as I tell you,
reproved Miss Dalrymple before me for being too
sympathetic and kind to her."


106 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"But why should he believe himself to be his
uncle's heir?"
"Because he fell into a trap, and was led to believe
so by me. And I'll tell you something else, doctor.
He believed that this new will was to revoke an
existing will in his favour; and I am convinced that
he stretched the cord that threw the trap over and
delayed me, that this will might not be signed; and
nicely he has defeated his own ends by it. I'd for-
give him for that if my nose had been broken."
"I think I can upset that theory, at least," said
Awdrey. "What time was it when you were thrown
from the gig?"
"About two o'clock, as nearly as I can reckon,"
said I.
"Good. He left Flexmore House to fetch me at
one o'clock; he was at my house at half-past, and he
waited there for me until ten minutes past two."
He had proved an alibi for Lynn, and I had to
admit I must be in the wrong on this point.
"And so you are, I am sure, on other points re-
specting him," said the doctor.
"We shall see that. Keep your mind unprejudiced,
and watch that young man during the next four or


A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 107
five days," said I, as I opened the door to let him
out.
Unfortunately, this chance of clearing his mind
was denied to us.
The next morning, when I called at. Flexmore
House, I heard that he had not been seen since he
left, shortly after my departure, to fetch Dr. Awdrey;
and in the course of the day I learnt that he had
gone to London. This did not surprise me. "He's
gone to see a London solicitor about this affair," I
thought; "and may he be bled pretty freely by my
learned friends!"
Betimes on Thursday I called again at the house,
for I had made up my mind to visit the inmates there
every day, knowing how long and dreary the days
must be for them in the darkened house, and that
the child, at least, looked upon me as a protecting
friend. Miss Dalrymple was bending over her work
with a worn and anxious look upon her sweet face.
Little Laure started up with a terrified expression in
her eyes, as though she expected to see Lynn Yeames
with arope in his hand come to haul her off toa board-
ing school, as I opened the sitting-room door. Both of
their poor faces lit up with pleasure when I said—


108 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"It's only I—the old lawyer—come to bother you
for some papers."
Laure ran up, threw her arms round my neck,
and kissed me; and, still hugging me, she
whispered—
"You don't forget what you promised?"
"No," I whispered back. "No one shall take you
away from Nurse Gertrude."
"Not Aunt Yeames, nor Cousin Lynn—not any-
body?"
"Not anybody, with a hundred Aunt Yeameses
and fifty Cousin Lynns to back him."
"You are a nice old dear!" she said, giving me
another kiss; and then she ran away laughing, to
whisper to Miss Dalrymple all about our secret—at
once a woman and a child.
I gossiped for best part of an hour, raking up all
the news of the village, for there's nothing like
trifling chat for people in trouble; and then, when
Laure went out of the room, I said—
"Well, my dear, have you had many visitors since
I saw you last?"
"A few acquaintances and Doctor Awdrey—that
is all."


A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE.
109
She would not ha,ve said " that is all" if she had
loved Dr. Awdrey.
"Mrs. Yeames, I suppose, has given you the
benefit of a call ?" said I.
"No; she had the dressmaker there. She sent to
say I might visit her if I liked, but Laure has a kind of
—of antipathy, you know, and I could not leave her
alone. Dear little Laure! She is haunted night and
day with a dread of being taken away from me."
"A not unnatural dread, though a groundless one,
I hope."
"Yes," she said, and took a few stitches in silence.
"Of course Lynn did not mean what he said. We
say things when we are worried and troubled that
ought not to be taken seriously."
"That is Doctor Awdrey's opinion," said I sharply,
suspecting his influence in this defence.
She flushed, and said quietly—
"It is my opinion also."
"But it may not be Mr. Lynn Yeames's opinion.
What then?"
"Then I should try to make it his opinion," she
replied, smiling archly.
I hold Thackeray's opinion with regard to good


A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. Ill
Of course I kept this belief to myself ; and
promising to drop in again during the day, I left the
house, and went directly to Mrs. Yeames's villa.
There was an overpowering smell of crape—to me
a most abominable stench—right out in the passage;
and through an open door I caught sight of Mrs.
Yeames and a dressmaker half buried in preparations
for deep mourning.'
I was shown into a sitting-room, as pretentiously
genteel and chilling as Mrs. Yeames herself, and
there I waited till it pleased the woman to come to
me. She waved me to a chair, after seating herself,
without giving me her hand, for which I was grateful,
though hitherto she had allowed me to take the tips
of her clammy fingers.
Her lofty air and patronizing smile showed that
she participated in her precious son's belief with
regard to the heritage.
"I have called to see your soli, Mr. Lynn, madam,"
said I.
"He is not hyah." said she, with that peculiar
pronunciation which your "superiah" person affects,
and which to my ear is more ungrammatical and,
being assumed, more vulgar and more offensive ten


A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 113
the monopoly of this business in his hands at Coney-
ford, and gave him to understand that he had better
make terms with Mrs. Yeames for cash down, as he
might never get his money if he waited until she had
heard Flexmore's will read. He understood how
matters lay, and, I believe, got his money in advance
by making a reduction of thirty per cent. ; and thus
Mrs. Yeames was let in for an outlay which she
would never repay herself out of the slender legacy
left her by my old friend.
About three days after this, a client who had just
returned from a business journey to the south of
France dropped in to have a chat with me, and
amongst other things he said—
"By the by, Keene, I crossed over with young
Yeames."
"When ?" I asked.
"On the 15th—night service. He pretended not
to see me, so I did not bother him. I know a man
at such times as this doesn't care for condolence and
that sort of thing."
"He was going on to Paris, I suppose ?" I ventured
to suggest.
"Oh, farther than that. I caught sight of him


114 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
at the station, where the line branches off to
Monaco."
"You are sure of your fact ?" I asked, though I
had little doubt of it.
"I am as sure it was he as I am that you are
before me now."
Now the 15th was the very day he had left Coney-
ford for London. Was London not gay enough for
him, that he must go on to Monaco for amusement?
One thing was certain : Mrs. Yeames, to have received
a telegram from him, must have known his where-
abouts, and could not give me his address in London
simply because he was at the other end of Europe.
Why had she told me that lie? Because she did not
wish it to be known that her son had gone to Monaco,
lest it might be inferred that he had gone there for
pleasure? That was the conclusion I came to.
It never entered my head that he had got out of
the country for prudential reasons, and that the cause
of his precipitate flight was that little paper pellet
which was lying quietly in my handy drawer. There
are things which escape even the suspicion of a lawyer
at times.


116 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
be certain that good work is put in and no machining.
The cost is very much less, too. What with lining
and trimmings, and one thing and anothah, I fear
these dresses will be a very heavy expense."
"Not more than I can afford to pay, I hope," said
Miss Dalrymple quietly.
"I hope you have chosen a fashionable cut for my
niece's dresses. I should have liked them to be
like Sir Willoughby Chough's little girls, or the
Honourable Mrs. Blinker's nieces. You must have
noticed how very elegant and high class they are."
"I do not think Laure imitated any one's
style."
"Surely you have not suffered that child to choose
her own style?"
"Yes; Laure has very good taste in dress, and
the dresses are for her."
"She'll be a perfect sight!" said Mrs. Yeames em-
phatically, with a dab of her hand in the air. "How
very unfortunate! If I had only thought of it a
little earlier. Deah, deah! They'll all have to be
altered of course when she goes to boarding-school."
"But I am not going to boarding-school," said little
Laure desperately. "I am going to stay always—


MORTIFICATION OF MRS. YE AMES. 117
ever, ever with Nurse Gertrude. Mr. Keene
says so."
"Mr. Keene knows nothing about it. Your
guardian will settle such matters, and not Mr. Keene!
And little girls should speak when they are spoken
to—not before. I'm afraid I shall have a great deal
of trouble with you when you come to live with me."
"But I'm not going to live with you—never,
never!" exclaimed the child, screwing herself in
terror against Nurse Gertrude, and holding her arm
for protection.
"We shall see about that," retorted Mrs. Yeames,
pursing up her lips and contracting her nostrils
viciously. Then, turning to Nurse Gertrude, she
said, "Have you made any plans with regard to
yourself, Miss Dalrymple? Have you settled where
you will go when you leave hyah?"
"No: it is impossible to settle anything definitely
at present."
"One thing there is which should certainly be
done without delay. It ought to be intimated to
the servants that their services will not be required
after their month is up." These were the same
servants who had given warning during the brief


118 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
term of Mrs. Yeames's authority in the house, and
who had one and all been re-engaged on her depart-
ure. "The house will be given up of course.
Perhaps you would like me to tell them they
must go 1"
"No ; I am to consider my position here unaltered,
and no change in the routine is to be made until the
will has been read, Mr. Keene says."
"Mr. Keene seems to be unduly interfering—to be
overstepping the bounds of his—ah !—function,"
said Mrs. Yeames tartly.
Whereupon little Laure, with the courage of
desperation, declared I was a dear old man, and
wouldn't let cook be sent away, or let any one be
made unhappy.
"And you won't, will you., dear Mr. Keene?"
said the child, imploringly, to me when she and
Nurse Gertrude had narrated this conversation to
me. "You'll be just like the clever cat in Puss in
Boots who got the ogre to turn from a lion into a
mouse and then gobbled it up, won't you?"
"Yes, my dear," said I; "before the week's out,
I promise you I will make that bounceable party look
very small indeed; and she shall be so completely


MORTIFICATION OF MRS. YE AMES.
119
chawed up that you will never see anything more of
her."
The day of the funeral came—and a sad day it is
in my memory, for even a lawyer cannot bury an old
friend without a pang of regret for the past that can
never be renewed: a bitter yearning for the hand
and the voice and the eyes that never again one shall
clasp, and listen to, and look into!
But we must live for to-morrow, and not for
yesterday; and thus reflecting, I left my sentiment
in the cemetery, and taking a good pinch of snuff to
clear my faculties, I went back to Flexmore House,
to get through my business there in a lawyer-like
fashion.
I expected that Lynn Yeames would be sufficiently
well to come back for the reading of the will; but
he was not. However Mrs. Yeames was there with
a telegram of regret from him (she had torn off the
heading, but I found out from my young friend at
the post-office that it came from Monaco), and
herself prepared to stand as his representative; and
a fine monument of respectability she was in her
crape.
To her disgust I had up all the servants into the


120 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
room, indeed I had invited every one whose name
was in the will. Dr. Awdrey was there, looking as
if he were going to have his head cut off, and
Miss Dalrymple, and little Laure.
When I took my place at the head of the table,
the child came and put her arm through mine; but
this would never do, so I led her back and placed
her between Nurse Gertrude and Awdrey, and she
was content to sit there, holding a hand of each, as
being the friends she could best trust to after me.
Then I opened the will, and in a dead silence I
began to read it clearly and slowly. You might have
heard a pin drop. After the usual preamble, came
the legacies to the servants, whom Mrs. Yeames
would have packed off with a month's wages, and
then began the sniffing and sighing and smothered
exclamations of astonishment and pleasure as they
fearned that there was a £100 and a good suit
pf clothes to come to each of them out of the fortune
K)f th,eir kind old master. And when these were
disposed of, I came to the Yeames' bequest.
"To Mrs. Anna Maria Yeames, widow of my
brother, Joseph Flexmore, I give and bequeath the
sum of fWe pounds."


MORTIFICATION OF MRS. YE AMES. 121
I looked at her over the top of my glasses as I
read this. She folded her arms, closed her eyes, and
assumed a look of injured dignity. I would have
given as much as this bequest to have been able to
look round and see how the servants (who hated her
cordially) managed to conceal their feelings. How-
ever I contented myself with reading on —
"To my nephew, Lynn Yeames stepson of the
aforesaid Joseph Flexmore"—here I turned over
the page, and glancing at Anna Maria found her
eyes open, and her expression indicative of assured
triumph and expectancy—"I give and bequeath
the sum of fifty pounds and my glass case of stuffed
birds."
Lowering the will and looking over my glasses
I said to Mrs. Yeames Flexmore—
"As your son is not here, I will apprise him by
letter of this bequest."
"That is not all, I am sure. Read on, if you
please," said the lady, with that peculiar dabbing
of her hand in the air to which I have before
referred.
I bowed, and proceeded to read out in full the
clause in which Flexmore constituted John Howard


122 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
Awdrey, M.D., &c, sole guardian of his beloved
daughter, Laure Constance Flexmore, and in re-
cognition and consideration of his service in the
capacity of guardian and trustee, bequeathed to him
the annual interest on such capital as remained
after the payment of the foregoing aforesaid
legacies, life annuity to myself of one hundred
pounds, and all outstanding debts until the said
beloved Laure Constance Flexmore should attain
the age of twenty-one, when the whole estate,
would revert to her.
I paused here, and again looked over my glasses
at Mrs. Yeames.
The woman had risen to her feet; she was white
with passion. I saw she wished to speak, and
waited. Her lips twitched convulsively; it was
some moments before she could articulate.
"Do—do—do I understand," she faltered,
"that he has left nothing to my son but fifty
pounds?"
"And a glass case of stuffed birds; that is all,"
I said.
"All the property, in fact, goes to Dr.
Awdrey?"


124 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"I have," she said, and then stopped short. For
how could she explain the means by which her

"that will shall be contested.-
son had possessed himself with the knowledge of
the affair? She would have liked to proclaim ma


MORTIFICATION OF MRS. YEAMES. 125
a scoundrel and a forger, as T believe she felt
convinced that I was, but she had just strength
enough to contain her passion.
"That will shall be contested," she said. "I will
telegraph at once to my son. We shall put this
into the hands of a trustworthy solicitor."
"That is the very best thing you can possibly
do," said I.
She clenched her teeth, and shook her head at
me with such fury in her face as I hope never
again to see disfiguring the face of a fellow-creature;
and then she turned her back on us and marched
out of the room with as much dignity as she could
command.


CHAPTER XII.
THE DINGLE COTTAGE
DR. AWDREY walked home with me from Flex-
more House.
"Well," said I, when we had got a hundred yards
on our way, "what do you think of Mrs. Yeames
now?"
"I cannot say I ever liked that woman, but I
never thought she had such a violent temper. One -
might make excuses for her—for any one indeed
who puts such. an extravagant value upon money,"
said he, in a tone of commiseration which seemed
to me utterly misplaced.
"At any rate" said I, "you'll agree that it's a
mercy I was too late with that precious will, which
would have handed over little Laure to the tender
mercies of such a woman. Why, the poor child
would have been brought up in the same money-


THE DINGLE COTTAGE.
127
worship—if she hadn't been killed by ill-treatrnent,
which is .the more likely."
"Yes; it could not be good for any child to be
under the influence of such a woman. But Lynn,
not she, was to have been Laure's guardian."
"Oh, they are a pair—like mother, like son," said
I impatiently.
"That is not true. Lynn would have done what
is right by the child."
"That's not true, either," said I. "You admit it
would be ill for any child to be under that woman's
influence. Well, how about Lynn, whom she has
brought up?"
"His strength of character has happily saved him.
He himself has frequently complained to me of the
tendency of modem society to a vulgar adoration of
money."
"Hypocrite!" I exclaimed petulantly; "that's
what he is, and you're a fool to be cheated by him.
I tell you he would have handed the child over to his
mother, and occupied himself solely with making
ducks and drakes of the money. You'll see what
sort of fellow he is before long. He'll show the same
cloven hoof that his mother has been kicking up for


128
A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
our observation to-day when he finds all his little
air-castles blown over. You'll see."
"We shall," said he; "and now let us talk upon
something we can agree upon."
"Talk away," said I, vexed beyond measure by his
obstinate credulity.
There was silence for a few minutes; then he
said—
"Can you give me an idea about how much the
estate will bring in?"
"Yes," said I; "I've reckoned it out. You may
safely depend on an annual income of two thousand
pounds for the next nine years. If you take my
advice, you'll live up to about seven hundred—that
will keep you comfortably—and put by the rest as
capital to draw upon after Laure conies of age."
He made no reply to this, but after walking a few
yards in silence, he said—
"I don't think Miss Dalrymple wishes to leave
Laure. I should be very sorry if she did."
"Oh, that's all right," said I. "She won't leave
the youngster—you may depend on that."
"I'm very fond of children—especially fond of that
dear little one; but, of course, I couldn't bring her up


130 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"I know; but the arrangement he had in view
has been rendered impossible by later events."
"Pooh, pooh! Stuff and nonsense !" I exclaimed.
"You'll marry that girl. Not at once, of course;
but in about six months from now. That's a certain
thing."
He laughed; but his laugh was anything but a
gay one.
"Lynn won't have her now he has no money," I
continued, "and she has nothing to give him but
herself. And what's to prevent you stepping in and
making her your wife?"
Again he laughed, but it was less pleasant than
before; and with a sudden transition to grave anger
he turned upon me.
"Whatever you may think of my friend Lynn,"
said he, "you must, at least, give Miss Dalrymple
credit for loyalty and honour. You seem to think
that every one is mercenary and heartless: that
Lynn would abandon her because she is poor, and
that she would accept me because I am rich. You
do them both injustice. She is no poorer now than
she would have been if Lynn had inherited this two
thousand a year, and if he offered her marriage


THE DINGLE COTTAGE.
131
•when he expected to be rich, it would be only honest
to offer to release her, finding he is poor. But will
she release him for that reason? No! no! no! She
will love him the more for being poor. And even
were your insinuations verified—if he himself cast
her off—do you think she would have so little self-
respect that she could consent to bestow the hand
rejected by another upon the first who asked her for
it? No, I say—a thousand times no!"
"Well," said I, "if all the world had such fine
sentiments and delicate susceptibilities as you
possess, hang me if I see how marriages would be
made."
With all my respect for Miss Dalrymple, I gave
her credit for having a good deal more worldly
wisdom than this Quixotish doctor. I felt pretty
sure in my own mind that she had accepted Lynn as
much from regard to Laure's interests as to a romantic
passion. However I did not feel at all comfortable
about the future; for, though I foresaw the course
Lynn would inevitably take, I was anything but
confident about Awdrey. You can place no de-
pendence on a man of delicate feeling. He's
likely at any moment to upset the very best schemes


132 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
a practical man ever devised. And this was my
belief when I parted from the doctor.
The next day happened to be particularly bright
and cheerful, so I engaged an open fly and drove to
Flexmore House.
The moment Laure heard I had come to take
them for a drive, she flew off to get her things; and,
taking advantage of her absence, I asked Miss
Dalrymple if she had seen auything more of Mrs
Yeames or heard from Lynn. She replied in the
negative to both questions, the colour mounting to
her cheeks through having to acknowlege Lynn's
neglect.
"Well, my dear," said I, "no news is good news
where such people are concerned; and I dare say we
shall get on very well if we never hear any more of
them."
She inclined her head slightly and with a certain
dignity that seemed to say, "You are perfectly
free to form what opinions you please," and left the
room. I know she was vexed, but whether with
me, with Lynn, with herself, or all three, I leave
psychological readers to settle for themselves.
The Dingle lies about two miles from Coney ford.


THE DINGLE COTTAGE. 133
It is a pleasant drive; we had plenty of rugs to
keep our legs warm, and the air was just fresh
enough to redden the tip of Laure's little nose
and make her eyes sparkle. As for Nurse
Gertrude, the pleasure of motion and breathing
a brisk atmosphere quickly chased every sign of
vexation from her pretty face, and the bright
sunlight that fell upon it seemed reflected there
in her smile. She had the courage and hope of
right-thinking and right-doing people, and though
I have frequently seen her brows crease and a
quick flash in her eyes, those signs of anger or
impatience ever faded quickly away.
I beckoned to Laure, and when she bent over
to hear the secret communication which children
so delight to make and receive, I whispered—
"Was the ogre chawed up?"
She nodded, laughing; then she asked with
the same secrecy—"But what is to be done
with me? Am I going to live with Doctor
Awdrey?"
"No; he won't have you. He's afraid you'll
be dipping your fingers into his bottle of
leeches."





136 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
who had a healthy love of nature and delight in
discovering her treasures, pointed out where there
surely would be primroses in the spring, and
perhaps snowdrops and daffodils; and thence
we wound our way up and up through the pine-
woods, in whose shade the white rime still lay on
the brown needles, until at length we came to
the cottage standing on the hillside, surrounded
with a verandah, which in summer, Miss
Dalrymple said, must be festooned with pretty
creepers, for there were the stems all carefully
cased up in straw. Standing there, we looked over
a lawn, and the Dingle below, and a furze-covered
stretch of down, where a quick eye even now
detected some yellow bloom; and beyond that
through the Coombe, a triangular patch of blue sea
fading away at the horizon into the pink mist
that blended it with the blue sky above.
"Oh, how lovely!" cried little Laure; but Miss
Dalrymple could say nothing, but stood there press-
ing the child's hand, and gazing upon the scene with
unspeakable delight.
"One of these keys ought to fit the front door; let
us go in and see what the house is like" said i.


THE DINGLE COTTAGE.
137
And in we went; and Laure threw open the shutters
and let in the sunlight, bursting into exclamations of
delight at every instant over the pretty parquet floor-
ing, the light wall-paper, the gilding and colouring of
the doors, the cosiness, and brightness, and cheerful-
ness of everything.
"It's pretty enough for grown-up dolls to live in,"
she declared.
"It's pretty enough for something better than
dolls," said I. "How should you like to live in it?"
"All alone ?" she asked, with a sudden qualm.
"No; with the cook in the kitchen, and Mary, and
Jane, and Elizabeth, and the boy Bob, and Nurse
Gertrude as well, if she could only be coaxed into
staying with you."
The child caught hold of her dear friend's hand, and
then looked at me doubtingly, as if she could scarcely
believe such happiness possible.
"But it won't do," I continued, "unless there's a
place for cocks, and hens, and ducks, and a pony and
chaise. Now, take these keys, and see if you can
find them anywhere."
Off she rushed, and then, being alone with Miss
Dalrymple, I said—" Awdrey wants you to live here


THE DINGLE COTTAGE.
139
an account, and let me have it a week before each
quarter day—and over and above I shall pay you the
salary of one hundred pounds as hitherto."
She said that would meet her requirements amply,
and I promised to draw up a memorandum of agree-
ment, to be signed by Awdrey and her the next
day. Just then Laure came rushing in breathless
to say there was the dearest place for fowls and
ducks, and the sweetest stable for two ponies, and the
loveliest coach-house, with a darling little chaise in
it already.
"Very well, then," said I. "Then the sooner you
come and live here the better."


142 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
closed eyes, with Lis lips firmly set, and his brows
knitted as though he were saying to himself, "You
confounded old vagabond I"
"Supposing I am prepared to swear that this is
not Flexm ore's last will."
"In that case I might be compelled to prove that
it is."
"How would you do that?"
It was useless to complicate matters, so I said—
"In the first place, there are the witnesses to the
signature, and then there is Doctor Awdrey, whose
evidence I could bring—if any evidence were re-
quired."
"Doctor Awdrey !" he exclaimed. "Did he know
that this will existed?"
"Certainly he did. It was in consequence of that
knowledge that he induced the late Mr. Flexmore to
decide upon making that second will, which I was
prevented from getting duly signed."
"Show me that second will," he said, in a tone of
authority.
"It is destroyed. If it were not, I do not think I
should show it to you. If it were in your possession
even, and you could prove that Flexmore intended to


AWDREY PERSEVERES.
143
sign it, there could be no possible change in the result.
There is no revoking the first will."
He nodded, still looking at me steadfastly with his
half-closed eyes, his brows knitted, and his lips set.
I suppose he thought to intimidate me. He didn't
succeed.
"Now tell me," said he presently, "why you led
me to suppose that this first will was antagonistic to
me, and the second favourable. Tell me that."
"Because," said I, " it is a professional rule to con-
ceal one's clients' affairs from those who seek to dis-
cover them, and because I saw no harm to my client
in allowing you to form any conclusion you pleased,
and by whatever means you chose."
That made him wince.
"That is the rule," I continued, "as regards a
lawyer and his client. But there professional delicacy
ends. If a lawyer is acquainted with the secret of a
person not his client, he may conceal it or publish it
as circumstances direct."
That completely disconcerted him—unduly, as it
seemed to me then, for I was only thinking of the
mean and underhand manner in which he had sought
to learn Flexmore's testamentary intentions. It


144 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
never entered my head—I wish it had-—that his
anxiety related to that paper pellet he had lost.
He looked at me, then at the table, as he flicked
it with his riding-whip ; then at me again ; finally, as
if uncertain as to the extent of my meaning, and to
prove it, he said—" Supposing I gave you a thunder-
ing good horse-whipping, as you deserve, what would
you do?"
"Bring an action for damages like a shot," said I.
He drew a long breath, and there was a visible sign
of relief in his expression.
"But," I added," I fancy you have lost enough
over this affair, what with the expense your mother has
taken upon herself, and one thing with another, to
forego an expensive luxury of that kind."
"You're wanted, if you please, sir," said my servant,
coming to the door.
I glanced round to see that there was nothing Mr.
Lynn could pry into or take away during my absence,
and seeing all safe, I left him. ,
In my sitting-room I found Doctor Awdrey waiting
to see me.
"I saw Lynn's horse outside, and I dropped in to
know if he were here," said he.


AWDREY PERSEVERES.
145
"Yes ; he is in my office. We have been having a
little chat," said I.
"I should like to see him before he goes, if you
don't mind my waiting here."
"Go in and see him at once," said I. "I have done
with him."
He thanked me, and went into the office ; while I
slipped into my dining-room, which, as I have said, is
divided from the office by a half-glazed door, that
intercepts sound so slightly that what takes place iD
one room is audible in the other.
If any one thinks it is wrong to play at eavesdrop-
ping—and a good many sensitive people do think so—
let them remember that I am only a lawyer. I have
no compunction to listening in a case of this kind.
They had got through their first greeting when I
reached the house, but, as I saw through the old
green taffety curtains, they still held each other by
the hand.
"A mere sprain ; that's all. Painful enough at
first ; just enough to keep me from running about,
you know," Lynn was saying, in his bluff, open tone.
"Why on earth didn't you write a word or two to
us?" asked Awdrey.


146 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"Oh, I didn't want to make a fuss about a trifle—-
especially at such a time—and you know what women
are when there's anything the matter with a fellow?"
Lynn, replied, throwing himself in a chair.
"Your silence made us think that the accident was
not a trifle," Awdrey said, half seating himself on the
table and facing his friend.
"I see now that I was to blame. I'm sorry for it.
That's all I can say, my dear fellow."
"I am sorry also. It must have troubled Miss
Dalrymple: it would have offended an ordinary girl.
Old Keene here doesn't like you—the most extra-
ordinary prejudice I have ever known; I warrant he
has put a bad construction on it, and done his utmost
to set her against you. Indeed it taxed my ingenuity
to find excuses for your neglect."
Lynn toyed with his riding-whip in silence for a few
minutes (during which his quick brain had conceived
a plausible means of escape), and then he said—
"Awdrey, old fellow, I must tell you all. I can't
keep a secret—at any rate, from you. I purposely
stayed away—I was purposely silent."
"Why? Let us have the whole matter out from
beginning to end."


AWDREY PERSEVERES.
147
"Some months ago this old rascal here, Keene—for
what purpose I cannot imagine—led me to believe
that I was heir to Flexmore's fortune."
"He acknowledged as much to me."
"Oh, he did! I'm glad of it. Well, in the belief
that I should before long be in a decent position to
maintain a wife, I sought to win Gertrude—Miss
Dalrymple. Then, on the day of Flexmore's death I
discovered the truth—that I had nothing to expect
from him."
The barefaced effrontery of this lie nearly took my
breath away.
"I had been living rather extravagantly," con-
tinued Lynn—"beyond my means, in fact—relying
on being able to recoup myself sooner or later, and
then suddenly I realized that I was thrown upon my
own resources, in debt, and incapable of providing
. the woman I loved with the home I had absolutely
offered her a few days before. Of course I am to
blame—I know that. I ought to have been prudent;
I ought not to have counted upon Flexmore's gene-
rosity; I ought not to have offered my hand before
I was assured beyond the possibility of doubt that I
had enough to marry upon. But you know what I
am—a confounded headstrong, impulsive, thought-


AWDREY PERSEVERES.
149
from writing one kind word —all with the same pur-
pose. Don't you see now?"
"Yes; but all that must be made clear to her,"
said Awdrey slowly.
"Made clear to her? Is that the way to break off
this unfortunate engagement?"
"No; but there is no necessity to break the en-
gagement?"
"What do you mean? Surely you wouldn't have
me ask her to wait till I grow rich! Rich! I, who
never did a decent day's work in my life."
"No; you will not ask her that. She did not in-
quire whether you were rich or poor when she con-
sented to be your wife; she will not refuse you now
for any reason of that kind. You must explain your
silence, and ask her to marry you at once. Listen to
me, Lynn—I am not advising without reason. Flex-
more wished you to be the guardian with Miss Dal-
rymple of little Laure, and to take the interest of the
money in trust for her until she came of age. By an
accident that wish was prevented from being legally
carried out; but. virtually, you are as much entitled
to the money as though the accident had not hap-
pened. Miss Dalrymple has consented to take care-
of the child permanently—relieving me of a certain


150 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
part of my duty. Legally I shall remain her guardian,
and shall in fact exercise my function whenever a
question arises respecting her welfare, but virtually
she is Miss Dalrymple's ward, and her services must
be paid for. I shall settle upon her all that is paid
me as interest arising from Flexmore's bequest."
"But, my dear fellow, you are robbing yourself—
you are carrying generosity beyond all the bounds
of reason !" exclaimed Lynn.
"No, I am doing nothing of the kind. I shall
simply be carrying out Flexmore's intentions, and I
shall remain as rich as I have been. Whether you
marry Miss Dalrymple or not, I shall settle the
money on her. But now you know that you have no
excuse for breaking off the engagement."
Did you ever read of heroism to beat this? A man
relinquishing fortune, and the fair chance of making
the girl he loved his wife, from chivalrous considera-
tion of that girl's happiness, and a conscientious
feeling of duty!
Those sponsors made a pretty good forecast at his
character and disposition when they gave him the
name of John Howard; for I doubt if the great
philanthropist was ever more loving to the good,
more generous to the erring, or kinder to the weak.


CHAPTER XIV.
I TELL A STORY WITH A MORAL.

I should like to know
what you would
have done, seeing
an honest man—so
honest as to be de-
void of suspicion
—bamboozled and
cheated by a lying,
subtle rascal on the
other side of a half-
glazed door with a
taffety blind. If you are an ordinary person, with an
ordinary love of truth and an ordinary hatred of deceit.
11


152
A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
I'll be bound you would have flung open that door
and told simple Dr. Awdrey that Lynn Yeames was
a liar and a cheat, and proclaimed all you knew about
him and his motives; but if you are like me, a wily
old lawyer, you would have done nothing of the kind.
For Dr. Awdrey believed that my prejudice against
Lynn Yeames amounted to a mania; I had no proof
whatever to substantiate a charge against him, and in
theabsence of proof Dr. Awdrey would befullyjustified
in believing a trusted friend in preference to a biased
lawyer. How could I prove that he knew nothing
about the will before his mother telegraphed to him
after the reading of it? I could only declare that he
did not know, he could declare that he did. He had
ingenuity to invent reasons as good for his knowing
the fact as those I could produce to show that he was
ignorant of the real truth. In a case of hard swearing
the judge must lean towards the side which seems
least capable of duplicity, and it would go hard with
the lawyer in such a case.
These conditions decided me to leave the half-
glazed door as it was, and to seek some more than
ordinary means of discomfiting an extraordinary
rascal.


/ TELL A STORY WITH A MORAL. 153
I felt sure of this—that Dr. Awdrey would insist
upon Lynn going at once and telling his story to his
sweetheart; and it seemed to me that the best thing
I could do was to go Flexmore House beforehand
and prevent Mr. Lynn deceiving Miss Dalrymple as
he had deceived Dr. Awdrey.
"Mrs. Guttridge," said I to my housekeeper, who
is a careful woman, and delivers messages correctly,
i' I can't wait any longer; I don't wish to disturb Dr.
Awdrey and his friend, who seem to be having a nice
little chat. If they ask for me you will say that I
had an appointment to keep, but that I shall be at
home from nine till twelve to-morrow morning."
With that I trotted off to Flexmore House as fast
as my legs would carry me ; but there was plenty of
time to think on the way and I had plenty to think
about.
How was I to warn Miss Dalrymple? To tell her
bluntly that her lover was a scamp would not do.
Her love would only strengthen in defending him
against his accuser. She had already given me proof
of this.
But did she still love him? Had she ever really
loved him? I was inclined to answer no to both


/ TELL A STORY WITH A MORAL. 155
questions. I believed that as yet she had really loved
no one. Yet I was not sufficiently sure to feel that I
could with safety speak openly on the subject. And
that is why I made up a fairy story—I could never
have told it without premeditation—as I trotted on;
yes, a fairy story—a pretty occupation for a lawyer,
you will say.
They saw me, Nurse Gertrude and little Laure,
from the drawing-room window as I came up the
gravel path, and the child darted off to open the door,
and both welcomed me with smiles on the threshold.
"We've been hoping you would come, and expect-
ing you all the afternoon," said Laure. "We want to
know when we are to pack up, and what to pack."
"I'll tell you all about that as soon as I've warmed
myself by the fire," said I. "And warm myself I
must, for I'm as cold as the 'Lonely Duckling' in the
fairy story."
You see I lost no time in leading up to my
subject.
"You mean the 'Ugly Duckling'—I've read about
it in Hans Andersen's"
"No; I mean the 'Lonely Duckling,' not the.' Ugly
Duckling,'" said L


156 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"I don't know that story. You "shall tell it to
me while you are warming yourself."
"So I will," said I, readily, for that was my
purpose.
And after talking to Miss Dalrymple about the
weather I took the arm-chair Laure had drawn in
front of the fire, and rubbing my hands I pretended
to be vastly comforted by the warmth—though, to
tell the truth, I was not a bit cold after my quick
trot.
Nurse Gertrude seated herself at the chimney side,
and Laure nestled against her shoulder, and a very
pretty group they made in the twilight, with the
glow of the fire upon their faces and hands.
"Tell me about that lonely duckling now," said
the child; "this is just the time for a story."
"Yes," said I, "there couldn't be a better time for
it. Well, this duckling was a poor, miserable, half-
fledged, helpless little thing, out alone on a common,
and it kept standing on tiptoe, flapping its little
wings and crying 'quack, quack,' in the most piteous
manner possible, for she was very hungry and very
cold. I must tell you it was a little duckling, and
not a drakling, which accounts for her being particu-





160 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
bits, though he was ready to sacrifice himself for
anybody."
"What a stupid old sausage he was," said
Laure.
"That's what the cocoanut thought; but he was
so hard that he couldn't be expected to sympathize
greatly with anything soft. However, the sausage
was of some use, for he called a guinea-hen, who was
only a shade less soft than himself, and very warm
under her feathers. She undertook to take care of
the duckling at once, and soon scratched and picked
up a supper for her, after which she tucked the little
duckling under her wing and watched over it with
open eyes all night. Then in the morning she
plumed the little thing's feathers, and took her for
a walk in the sun, which had such a beneficial effect
on her that she lookod quite a nice little creature;
and the hen was as proud of her as if she had been
her own chick. As for the little duckling, now that
she was warm and dry and well cared for, she was
quite content, and resolved she would never, never
stray away from the kind guinea-hen."
"That is not all, is it?" cried Laure, at this
juncture.


/ TELL A &TORY WITH A MORAL. 161
"Oh, dear no! We haven't come to the fox yet,"
said I.
"There was a fox then, eh? Oh, I don't like hiiu."
"Nor do I. What is worse, there were two of them
—an old vixen fox, and a young dog-fox." Miss
Dalrymple looked into the fire gravely.
"It was the vixen who first found them out," I
continued. "She was going over the downs one
morning, as lean and hungry as could be, when
she suddenly stopped and sniffed the air. 'I smell
duckling,' said she; and then, creeping on a little
further, she licked her skinny chops, and said, 'I
smell guinea-fowl.' So she crawled on till she spied
the two basking in the sun, as happy and unsuspect-
ing as the old sausage hard by. But there stood the
cocoanut, and the old vixen didn't like the look of
him. She couldn't make him out at all, because cocoa-
nuts are not often seen on the downs. So she slinked
back to her hole, where the young dog-fox was yawn-
ing the top of his head off.
"' Don't do that, you'll disfigure your pretty face,'
said the old vixen.
"'I've got nothing else to do,' said the young
dog-fox.


/ TELL A STORY WITH A MORAL.
163
'However,' thought he, 'if I can only get them away
from this place, we'll soon see whether they're real
or not by the cracking of their bones.' He took a
roundabout way, and coming up to them, grinned
from ear to ear as he said 'Good morning.'
"At the sight of his teeth the little duckling ran
under the guinea-hen who bristled up her feathers,
and looked as if she would call on the cocoanut for
assistance.
"' Don't be alarmed,' said the dog-fox, blandly,' my
intentions are strictly honourable. I only came to
have a little rational conversation. I know I'm
a fox, but I assure you I'm not foxy. My exterior
may be unprepossessing, but I'm only a fox superfi-
cially, indeed. I think of turning myself inside out
to show that I'm more like a turtle dove than any-
thing else. What do you find to eat here?'
"' Not ducklings,' retorted the guinea-hen, pointedly.
"'Well, I'm glad of that. I hate eating duckling,
other foxes are partial to them: even my mother
who is a kind-hearted old vixen, might eat duckling
at a pinch. I own that in my early days, when
I knew no better, I did nibble a little bit of one
myself. But I've grown out of that, being only a


164 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
fox externally. I should like to live on barley and
soaked bread, and stuff of that kind. One sees what
a beneficial effect upon the mind such diet has. I
quite believe that after I had got through a peck
of barley and a quartern loaf, I should be quite
a guinea-fowl.'
"' Do you, indeed ?' said the guinea-hen, who was
highly nattered by this compliment.
"' Oh, upon my word, I'm sure of it,' replied the
dog-fox; 'ask my friend the sausage here what he
thinks on the subject.'
"Now, the sausage, who would believe an addled
egg to be good until it was broken, replied: 'I
should be very sorry to say that a fox could not be-
come a guinea-fowl if his heart is good ; and if this
gentleman says that his heart is good, it would be
very wrong of us to treat him as if his heart were bad.
His manner is certainly more fowl than fox.'
."' Oh; I should be a perfect fowl if I could only
fly, and I've not the slightest doubt I could learn
the art in a brace of shakes, if you would only
give me a few lessons,' said the dog-fox, with the
sweetest bow to the guinea-hen. The guinea-hen
was more pleased than ever with this testimony to


1 TELL A STORY WITH A MORAL. 1C5
her influence. She thought he must be good to say
such nice things, especially as the sausage believed
in him quite as much as she did.
"' Won't you come for a walk with me, and give
me a lesson?' asked the dog-fox, seeing her smile
'you can bring your little duckling with you.'"
"But she didn't go, did she ?" asked Laure in turn.
"You'll see presently," said I. "The guinea-hen
was much excited, but she was too prudent to go
at once. However, she promised she would think it
over, and let the dog-fox know next day. Where-
upon, the dog-fox, not to alarm her by seeming too
anxious, made a most polite bow, and went off,
trying to look as much like a guinea-fowl as possible.
Now he was just passing the cocoanut when he
heard a voice say—
"' Mind the bones!'
"He looked round in surprise, and seeing nothing
but the cocoanut, he said—
'"I beg your pardon, did you speak?'
"' Yes,' replied the cocoanut. 'Mind the bones
don't stick in your throat and choke you.'
"' What bones?' asked the dog-fox, astonished.
"' The fish bones, to be sure,' said the cocoanut.


1G6 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"' What fish boiies?' asked the bewildered
dog-fox.
"' Why, the bones of that sprat that the penny
hen is sitting on,' replied the other.
"' Sprat! Penny hen!' exclaimed the dog-fox.
'Upon my word, I don't understand you.'
"' That's not surprising,' retorted the cocoanut;
'' for you're such a fool you've mistaken a sprat for a
duckling and a penny hen for a guinea-hen. That's
the way with you clever foxes, you're always getting
into some trap or other.'
"Off went the dog-fox as fast as he could trot. On
the road he encountered the old vixen. 'You're a
clever old dear, you are!' he cried angrily, 'to send
me after a guinea-hen and a duckling, when there's
nothing there but a sprat and a penny hen.'
"And away he pelted to seek something more
toothsome, and forget as quickly as possible all about
poor guinea-hen who was flattering herself with all
sorts of pleasant visions with regard to the dog-fox
she might transform into a guinea-fowl."
"Ah, that was a good thing," said Laure, clapping
her hands. "That was a nice old cocoanut—very
clever too, I think, don't you?"


/ TELL A STORY WITH A MORAL.
167
"Oh, I have the highest opinion of his ability,"
I replied.
"Well, as soon as the dog-fox was gone, the old
vixen started off to see what all this meant; and it
was not long before she discovered the real state
of the case, for there was the guinea-hen looking a
little anxious and disappointed to be sure, but a real
guinea-hen for all that, and not a penny hen; and
as for the duckling she was fatter and better-looking
than ever. The only difference to be seen was in
the condition of the sausage; he looked flabbier and
paler than before, and I'll tell you how that came
about. He was so anxious that the duckling should
get fat, and that the guinea-hen should have no
trouble to seek food for her, that he was shaking
himself out of his skin that she might have plenty
to eat."
"Oh, that stupid sausage—I've no patience with
him!" said Laure.
"No, more have I, my dear," I said. "But it
pleased the old vixen mightily, for she saw that there
would be a better picking than ever on the duckling.
So away she scampered with her nose well out,
sniffing the air till she got the scent (and a very
12


168 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
nasty scent it was, too!) of master dog-fox, who was
prowling round a yard in which there were dozens
of fine fat geese.
"' Come away from there,' cried the old vixen,
'you are only wasting your time and losing an
opportunity that does not often present itself. I'm sur-
prised at you, a dog-fox, allowingyourself to be cheated
by a cocoanut; but those foxes who are readiest to
deceive others are only too prone to be themselves
deceived. Go back and get that duckling before
she's snapped up by some one else, and don't listen
to anything the cocoanut may tell you about sprats
and penny hens. If you doubt my word, ask the
sausage, who is too much of a fool to deceive any
one but himself.'
"Off went the dog-fox with his tail between his
legs, for he was ashamed to think he had been over-
reached by a cocoanut.
"But at the same time he was not disposed to
disregard that warning about the bones, for there
was nothing he dreaded so much as being tricked
himself. So you may be sure he went to the sausage
first before inviting the guinea-hen to come with him
a second time.


170 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
off, slobbering at the mouth as he thought of the
picking in store. However he wiped his jaws and
put on a decent air when he caught sight of the
guinea-hen and the duckling, and going up to them
with a cheerful air, he said—'Good-morning,
dears; I've come to take you for that walk we
talked about the other day.'
"But the guinea-hen, although she was secretly
very pleased to see him come back, drew herself up
with dignity and asked why he had not kept his
appointment and called the day before yesterday
as he promised; whereupon the dog-fox told her
first one fib and then another fib, and went on piling
up fibs until at length the guinea-hen thought that
surely there must be one genuine excuse amongst so
many. And after all she did not dislike the dog-
fox, and it was only her pride he had wounded by his
neglect, and she was too kind-hearted to bear malice.
'Besides,' she said to herself, 'he's only a fox at
present; but if I can only educate him into a guinea-
fowl he will never offend again.'
"So she called the duckling to her side, gave her
arm to the dog-fox, and went off with him to a
place where he said she could teach him to fly. The


I TELL A STORY WITH A MORAL.
171
sausage blessed them as they went off, for he had
achieved the object of his benevolent wishes, and
feeling he could do no more shrivelled up. The
dog-fox did not trouble himself to take his young
friends home to the old vixen, but just gobbled up
the little duckling on the way, and left not a scrap
of her but a few feathers and a few bones."
"But that's not all," said Laure, as I came to a
stop.
"That's all I know about the duckling."
"But the poor guinea-hen, what became of her?"
"Some say he gobbled her up also, others that
he had no appetite for her after eating the duckling,
and left her to break her heart."
"Oh, but a story shouldn't end like that."
"No ; but stories will end like that when sausages
and guinea-hens put faith in foxes who pretend
they can turn themselves inside out."
"But the old cocoanut—why didn't he interfere?"
"I don't know; perhaps he was too busy—perhaps
he feared his warning might be taken as an imperti-
nence by the guinea-hen; what do you think, Miss
Dalrymple?"
Miss Dalrymple had been looking gravely in the


CHAPTER XV.
MR. LYNN TEAMES PROVES HIMSELF BUT A SECOND-
RATE DECEIVER.
T GATHERED up my hat, great coat, comforter, and
stick, and tucking them under one arm and little
Laure under the other, slipped into the adjoining
room, where we shut ourselves in, just as Mr. Yeames
was admitted to the drawing room by the other
door.
I would have given anything to know what was
taking place there; but I could not well put my
ear to the keyhole in the presence of little Laure,
so I had to content myself with the hope that the
moral of my fable would enable Nurse Gertrude to see
through the wiles of her crafty visitor, and give her
strength to defeat them. It was exasperating to hear


174 A EEC OILING VENGEANCE.
the murmur of voices and not to distinguish what was
being said; however I learnt later on from a certain
source what took place in this interview, and I will
set it down here as if I had seen and heard all—which,
in my mind, I certainly did when the mere facts
of the case were made known to me.
Standing by the door as he closed it, Lynn made
a grave inclination of his head expressive of respect,
contrition—anything you like; then he stepped for-
ward hastily with his hand out, his head erect, his
chest thrown forward, in a manly, honest way. She
put her hand in his.
"Can you forgive me ?" he asked, holding her hand,
and speaking in that rapid, full undertone that is
supposed to express earnest anxiety. "Gertrude!"
he added, with a tender inflection, putting forth his
left arm to take her by the waist.
Nothing succeeds like audacity with certain women;
but Gertrude was not of that set, and, quietly shrink-
ing to avoid his touch, she withdrew her hand and
seated herself with the slightest deprecatory movement
of her head. I can see that graceful, dignified
movement as I write—a kind of "no-thank-you"
movement.


A SECOND-RATE DECEIVER. 175
With a deep sigh Lynn dropped his hands by
his sides and sank into a chair.
"I ought to have spoken out at the very first, I
know that," he said, in the tone of a man candidly
admitting an amiable weakness. "I ought to have
given you an explanation; but I was beside myself
that morning."
"And as you have not offered any explanation
since I am to suppose that you have been beside
yourself rather over a week," said Miss Dalrymple'
with sympathy in her voice.
The fellow had not the slightest sense of humour,
and took her sarcasm seriously.
"Indeed I have," he said, with another sigh. He
must surely have thought all women fools.
"Then I think a little apparent eccentricity of
conduct must certainly be forgiven;" and so, as if she
had dismissed the subject, she asked in a tone of
ordinary civility, "And when did you return?"
"Oh, I—er—came back this morning," replied Mr.
Lynn uncomfortably.
"You have seen your mamma, of course?"
"Yes; I had to take my traps home, you know,
and get a tub after that beastly journey."


176 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"To say nothing of giving your mamma some sort
of explanation, she must have been very anxious
about you."
"Yes; the mater seemed to be a bit worried and
anxious."
"Dr. Awdrey has asked frequently after you. I
suppose you have not had time to call upon him?"
"No—that is, yes; I spotted him coming along."
"How very fortunate. Mr. Keene has been in-
quiring about you. Of course you have not seen
him?"
Not knowing how much she knew, he had to admit
the fact that he had seen me also.
"Er—yes, I have; had to call upon him on a
pressing matter of business, you know."
"Then, now I suppose you have satisfied nearly
everybody's curiosity. Isn't it a great relief to
you?"
The young man bent his head and looked on the
ground. He couldn't stand chaff; but he had to
make the best of it now—perhaps consoling himself
with the reflection that he would not stand it after
their marriage. I can imagine him promising himself
to break her in and bring her to meek submission in


178 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"It was not a mistake, Gertrude—I loved you then
as I love you now; I have come here this afternoon
to ask you again if you will have me, faulty as I
am—yet an honest fellow, thank heaven !—and be
my wife?"
Nurse Gertrude was not greatly moved with this
speech, which had very little appearance of depth and
sincerity in it, despite the quavering of that manly
voice, and a good deal of what he himself might
have called "side."
"May I ask why you have thought it necessary to
ask me a second time?" she asked, trying to fix his
shifty eyes, and learn the truth from them.
"Well, your manner seems to imply that you
consider the engagement broken off."
"I did think it broken off. Had I not reason to
think so?"
"Oh, yes; the way I spoke to you and little Laure
was unpardonable."
He paused, and looked down again to escape from
her fathoming eyes. He had probably thought that
there would be little difficulty in his way, and that he
could just reconcile Gertrude, if she should resent his
silence, with a few words and a kiss or two, and


A SECOND-RATE DECEIVER. 179
without going into any more vexatious explanation
than the mere avowal of manly weakness under trying
circumstances. Dr. Awdrey had told him to confess
the truth, and conceal nothing, adding that a woman
would forgive the man she loves anything except
duplicity. But Lynn, in his own conceited, pig-
headed way, had fully relied on his own cleverness;
his contempt for women in general disposed him
to tell them no more than was necessary. He would
rather have avoided an explanation, which, though
it presented a certain attraction in being untruthful,
would require a good deal of bolstering up to support
his assumption of honesty and generosity. However
he had bungled so disastrously in his own attempt,
that he saw no escape from his dilemma but by
acting now on Awdrey's suggestion.
"The fact is," said he, changing his tone with a
slash at his leg, "I was purposely brutal to little
Laure and you, I wished you to take offence and
relieve me from the engagement."
"That is what I thought—it was the only con-
struction I could put upon your behaviour," said she.
"I dare say you wonder what my reason was. I
will tell you. I can't conceal the truth, and I know


A SECOND-RATE DECEIVER. 181
the engagement because you were less rich than
you expected to be when you made me an
offer."
She held out her hand to him frankly, and he
took it. If he had been wise enough to tell her all
that had passed between him and Awdrey, she would
have been his without doubt. In return for an open
avowal, she would have swept aside my warning and
all prudential considerations, put the best construc-
tion on his motives, and scorned to entertain any
suspicion of mercenary motives which might be sug-
gested by his conduct. Now was the time for him
to spring up and put his arms around her; but he
hung back, the dolt! With that perverse idea of a
girl's mental inferiority, he thought he had told her
enough. Possibly he was annoyed in being forced
to abandon his own way of winning her, and act
upon Awdrey's more generous and manly advice.
Perhaps, believing that she was anxious to get him,
he thought he might treat her with a little in-
difference as a kind of punishment for her previous
coolness. There is no knowing the extent of pitiful
meanness a heartless man is not capable of. Any-
how, he sat there in silence, waiting for her to make


182 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
a further advance. And that, giving her time for
reflection, saved her.
"Are you greatly in debt, Lynn ?" she asked, after
- a little consideration.
"Oh, not a great deal," he replied, carelessly;
"a few hundreds."
"How many hundreds do you think?"
"Ten or a dozen," he said, with an unpleasant
glance that seemed to say, " That's not your business."
But Miss Dalrymple evidently thought it was her
business. How could she help an uneasy feeling
stealing upon her, when the fool made no attempt
to prevent it.
"And how do you propose to pay your debts?"
she asked, not at all frightened by his forbidding
look.
"That will be all right. The fellows won't press
for payment. They know their only chance is to
wait till I get a bit straight."
"How do you mean to get straight, as you call
it?" she asked, smiling.
"Hang it all, Gertie," he exclaimed petulantly,
"let's drop this subject. I came to make love to you,
not to talk about money."


A SECOND-RATE DECEIVER. 183
"Yes; but the two subjects seem to have become
so involved that we can hardly mention one without
talking about the other. The best way is to detach
the pleasant from the unpleasant subject, and tha*.
would be most readily done by settling the money
question at once—don't you think so?"
"Oh, well, if we must talk about that sort of
thing, I should ask you to let me have a little money
to square my accounts, while I look about for some-
thing that would enable me, in time, to pay you back
—though I don't think there ought to be any debt
or credit account between man and wife."
"Nor I," replied she gravely. "If I marry you, all
that I have will be yours, and I should be very
unhappy if I thought it necessary to question how
you disposed of it. That is why we ought to settle
the subject beforehand."
"That's all right. Of course, whatever I do with
the money will be for our common good. So that
settles the thing," he said, rising from his chair.
"Not altogether. To be quite explicit, I really do
not think I can let you have ten or twelve hundred
pounds. I am not certain how much I have, but
I fear it is considerably less than that."
"There is no hurry, my dear child, Done whatever!
13


184 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
said Lynn, approaching and laying his hand on her
shoulder with the soothing and somewhat contemp-
tuous manner he might have adopted towards a restive
horse; "eight—ten months will be soon enough to
settle my creditors' little bills. Ill manage them!"
"But in ten months I may be as far as ever from
being able to let you have the sum you need; in the
meantime you must be incurring fresh debts unless
you have some definite means of earning money."
He looked at her questioningly, rather taken
aback by this announcement.
"But you have heard of the arrangement Awdrey
is going to make ?" he said.
"Yes; Mr. Keene spoke to me about it yesterday
—he told me he had full instructions to make terms
with me respecting a perpetual engagement."
"You did not refuse his offer, did you ?" asked
Lynn, with a terrible suspicion that Miss Dalrymple
might be Quixotic enough for such an act of
abnegation.
"No; the terms were very generous, and I
accepted."
"Then where's the difficulty? You surely don't
think of living up to your income?"
"Perhaps not; but I don't think my economies


A SECOND RATE DECEIVER. 187
at chess. Your second-rate player opens the game
well, but in the critical finish, exalted by success into

ROOM TO 'GO AND HAVE IT OUT WITH AWDBET.''
an undue appreciation of his own ability, or his
adversary's inability, he abandons careful tactics, and


188 A RECOILING VENGEANCE
makes rash and reckless moves that inevitably lead
to his own ruin.
Poor Gertrude! it was some time after the door
closed upon Mr. Lynn Yeames before she came from
the room where he left her, and then, despite the
cheerful air she assumed, I perceived that she had
been crying.
Here, again, I have wondered what she cried
for. Had she not every reason to be pleased that
she had found out the man's real character before
marriage rather than after it? Was not scorn of
such a base fellow enough to dry in its source the
regretful tears that would have sprung in losing a
lover? I should have thought so. But nothing puts
on so many unlooked-for aspects as human nature.
One cannot reason upon the movement of human
hearts as if they were made of wheels, mathematically
arranged, to produce from a given impulse a certain
and undeviating result. So I say again, poor
Gertrude! for she was weak as well as strong.
Had she really loved Lynn? or was she only inter-
ested in him from a belief that her influence had
ennobled him? I cannot say; all I know is that she
wept in realizing that he was neither noble nor lovable.


CHAPTER XVI.
DK. AWDREY PERSEVERES.

mHERE is a wire-
blind to the win-
dow of my office facing
the street, so that as
I sit at my table I
can see what is going
on out of doors. This
is very convenient to
a country lawyer who
sees his clients pull
up at his door, and
is thus prepared to
meet them. The morning after my last visit to
Flexmore House I heard the crunching of wheels in


190 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
the ice of the gutter, and, glancing through the afore-
said blind, I caught sight of Dr. Awdrey. The old gig
had been mended, and he had bought a new nag of
the same sober sort as the last. "Ha, ha!" thought
I, "he's come to settle about the two thousand a year
that Nurse Gertrude is to receive."
It must be remembered that the particulars of
the. interview between Lynn Yeames and Miss
Dalrymple, which I have set down in the last
chapter, had not then come to my knowledge.
Dr. Awdrey came in clapping his hands, for, I
remember, it was bitterly cold; and, pulling off one
of his knitted gloves, he gave me his hand. His nose
was red, but his fine kindly eyes sparkled brightly;
and he had in his face that expression of virile
energy, and vigour and triumph, which one may see
in a man when he has broken the ice to take his
morning plunge. But there are difficulties to over-
come in carrying out a healthy, moral principle that
call for just as much nerve and courage as diving
through half an inch of ice; and it has often struck
me that if a man braved as much personal inconveni-
ence and discomfort in the service of humanity, as he
will endure for the mere sake of self-glorification, it


192 A BECOILTNG VENGEANCE.
"If a man were not too genteel to work, if he put
his heart and soul into it, if he went into it as a man
goes into battle, staking his life on winning, how
then?"
"He would make it pay—I'd stake my reputation
on it!" I exclaimed. "You know nothing about
farming, doctor; but with your dogged perseverance
and a certain amount of intelligence that you would
bring to bear on it, even you might make it pay; and
I'll guarantee that you would make more by it than
by your medical practice."
"I am very glad to hear you think so," said he
cheerfully.
"Why? Do you think of taking a farm?" I asked
hopefully.
He nodded. I was never better pleased in my life,
and I told him so.
"It will make a new man of you,"said I. " It will
give you new life. You'll see that there's something
better than physic—though I suppose if any one with
the toothache sends for you in the middle of the
night you'll turn out."
"I dare say I shall," he replied, with a twinkle
in his eye that perplexed me.


194 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
man like you could do there—half the vagabonds in
Coneyford come from the squalid cottages on that
estate—you would make them decent, and put the
poor wretches in the way of living honestly and
happily. That alone ought to tempt you, if I know
you at all."
I saw it did tempt him. He looked in the fire
meditatively, and it was easy to guess how his
large heart and big mind were occupied. I continued
to praise the farm and lay its advantages before
him, for I had a strong motive in wishing him to
take it. It adjoined the Dingle; from the windows
of the farmhouse he would look over the pleasant
meadows to Miss Dalrymple's cottage.
"Well," said he, rising, " I shall go over and look
at the farm this afternoon perhaps. Do you know if
Captain Ranger is at home?"
"He is, and will be only too glad to see you. I'll
send a note up to him this morning. Leave all the
negotiations to me. I shall manage that better than
you could."
We shook hands and parted; but as soon as he
was gone a misgiving seized me. That misgiving
was verified in the afternoon when I caught sight of


196 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
things, and I saw that twinkle in his eye again as he
turned to poke the fire.
"I suppose there will be no difficulty about the
money," he said.
"No," I replied, with a grunt.
"When do you think he will turn out—the earliest
date?"
"March 24th."
"Not before?"
"No," I said; "and a good job too," I added,
speaking to myself.
"You don't seem so eager about it as you were,
Keene," he said, with a smile.
"No ; I was idiot enough to think you were going
to take it for yourself."
"And you have found out that the future tenant
is to be"
"Lynn Yeames? It's too good for him," said I,
angrily.
"We shall see."
"Yes, we shall see him lose money—that's a
comfort."
"He can't lose more than eight hundred a
year."


198 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
when he was in health, and had the ability to
reason the matter out: the will he did not sign
was decided upon when he was sick and unable to
reason upon it."
"You will admit that in either case he intended
this money to go to the man Miss Dalrymple should
marry?" I assented to this proposition, and he con-
tinued: "It is no longer a question whether I shall
marry her—that is settled for ever."
"But it is a question whether Lynn will marry her,
and that is not settled for ever."
"They will marry," he said, emphatically; "the
only thing that separates them is this miserable
question of money. I thought it might be arranged
by giving the money to Miss Dalrymple; but, from
what she said yesterday to Lynn, it is doubtful if
she will accept it."
"I don't believe she will accept it, and come to
that I don't see why she should. Her feelings are
just as fine as yours, and she has no more right to
the money than—according to your own notions
—you have."
"That is the mistake I made, and it has increased
the difficulty. Lynn frankly admits that he has be-


DR. AWDREY PERSEVERES. 199
haved badly to Miss Dalrymple under the irritation
of this wretched money question, and declares
that he can never dare to stand in her pres-
ence until he has redeemed his character."
I was heartily glad to hear this, and I said
so.
"It struck me in the night," he continued, "that
Lynn, with his love of the country, his physical
strength and vigour, could do something with a farm,
I feel sure that he only needs occupation to develop
his better qualities, and make a capital good fellow of
him. It would steady him, Keene; he has told me
over and over again that he needs an object in life
to strive for. We all must have that, or live a trivial
and contemptible existence. And striving to attain
that object will just give him the steadfastness of
character which he seems to lack at present—and no
wonder. As you pointed out this morning, there are
lots of capabilities for an earnest and sharp fellow
in the captain's farm, and I sincerely believe that
as he works on he will rise in his own esteem, until
he feels that he may once more address himself
to Miss Dalrymple. And do you think she will
refuse him when she sees how he has strengthened
14


200 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
his character by working heart and soul for her
sake?"
"Well, if he will only work heart and soul for his
own sake, it's as much as I can expect of him," said
I. "Let him begin with that; we shall see about the
rest. You have spoken to him on this subject?"
"Yes: we went together to look at the farm this
afternoon. He is delighted with it, is confident of
success, and eager to bogin."
I was not surprised to hear this. Every one thinks
he has the wit to make a farm pay by just riding
about on a cob and giving orders; and to be a
"gentleman farmer" is the desire of a good many
lazy young gentlemen—especially when there's
good shooting in the neighbourhood, and a com-
fortable house, with an excellent billiard-table
in it.
"Is he sufficiently confident in himself to work
it on his own responsibility, or will he work it at
your risk?" I added.
"Oh, of course I shall take the risk—he has no
money—he is in debt indeed."
"You did not promise any given sum?"
"No; I left that to be arranged with you. That


202 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
the six hundred can be added to the reserve
fund."
"And what is to be done with the reserve fund?"
"I'm coming to that. At the end of nine years,
when Miss Dalrymple ceases to be Laure's guardian
the reserve sum shall be drawn out and paid over in
a lump to Miss Dalrymple if she is single (whether
she likes it or not—she will be older and wiser
then, I dare say), or to her husband if she is married.
Here is an inducement for Yeames to develop his
fine qualities, to work hard and win Miss Dalrymple,
for then he will come in for the whole amount arising
from the bequest. Now, there's an arrangement
advantageous enough for Yeames in all conscience.
It does not benefit you one penny piece, and so ought
to be acceptable to you; and it carries out Flex-
more's last wishes to a tittle."
"That seems a capital arrangement," said Awdrey
cheerfully. "I should think Yeames would be pleased
with it."
"He ought to be," said I. But I was very doubtful
whether he would be; for a greedy man will not
be satisfied with ten thousand a vear, if he thinks
he may by hook or by crook get twenty.
»


DR. AWDRET PERSEVERES. 203
However, he had the grace to express entire
satisfaction with the arrangement when Awdrey ex-
plained it to him, and the doctor bade me conclude
negotiations with Captain Ranger as quickly as
possible.


CHAPTER XVII.
A SPOKE IN MR. YEAMES'S WHEEL.
niHE following week Miss Dalrymple moved into her
new home with all her household; and one morn
ing, when I had been to settle affairs with Captain
Ranger, I walked across the meadow, climbed over the
fence that separated them from the Dingle pad-
dock, and made my way up to the cottage. I found
everything in its place, and the whole house as neat
and comfortable as if the tenants had been there
a year.
It seemed to me that I had never seen Nurse
Gertrude to such advantage. Black was certainly
becoming to her, and her dress was, to my eyes,
the perfection of grace and elegance, giving fulness
to her figure which, as I have said before, was, in
my opinion, a trifle too slight. Her carriage was never


A SPOKE IN MR. YEAMES'S WHEEL. 205
wanting in dignity, but I thought she bore herself
with the air of one conscious of being mistress of
the house. Yet there was no stiffness or formality

I CLIMBED OVER THE FENCE THAT SEPARATED THEH FROM THE DINGLE PADDOCK."
in her manner, little Laure herself didn't welcome
me with sweeter smiles.
Bright fires were burning, and a cat and a dog


206 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
shared the hearthrug amicably; the sun streamed
through on to the new carpet, there were flowers and
berries here and there, an open work table, besides
many signs of modern taste and refinement, which,
though rather out of keeping with an old-fashioned
bachelor's notions, nevertheless impressed me favour-
ably. We old ones have had our day, and the young
must have theirs; and though we cling to the things
of our youth we must submit to their being pushed
aside, for every change is in the direction of the
higher and better, though we may fail to see it.
"Yes," said I, looking about me, "everything is
bright and charming. It is prettier than the old
house. That was comfortable for old folks, but this
is in harmony with your young faces."'
Then I sat down by the fire, and we fell to talking
about the neighbours. I learnt that they had already
received visitors, though it was scarcely time to expect
them, and was glad to hear this, not only because it
would be good for Laure to find companions of her
own age, but for Miss Dalrymple's sake also. Mixing
among people who must appreciate her excellent
qualities, it was ten to one that some decent young
fellow would fall in love with her, and good might


208 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
up early, mowing his fields, following his team, throw-
ing heart and soul and money into the noble endeav-
our to become a worthy member of society and a
model farmer."
She laid her work in her lap, and, looking at me
incredulously, said—"But I understood that Mr.
Yeames was in difficulties."
"What does that matter? He has found a friend
who's a bigger fool than he in some respects, willing
to pay his debts, and spend a thousand a year be-
sides to make a worthy gentleman of him. Do you
think he will succeed?"
She did not reply to my question, but sat absorbed
in thought. Watching her face keenly, I thought
there was an expression of tender sadness in it
Was she mourning in her heart for the face of
one whom no effort could raise up? Or was she
grieving to think of that friend's disappointment
when he should find that all he had done was of
no avail?
"The friend is Dr. Awdrey ?" said Miss Dalrymple
after we had sat in silence for some moments.
"Yes," I replied; "that is not difficult to discover,
for I believe there's not another man in the whole


210 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
let me say this in his defence, he is as simple and
confiding as a girl. In that category he is not
the only one who has had a great respect for Mr.
Yeames."
"How am I to reply to that thrust?" she asked,
with a smile.
"By telling me that if Dr. Awdrey had as inti-
mate an acquaintance with Mr. Yeames as you
have his respect would have evaporated."
"But still his faith in latent good qualities might
exist," said she.
"I know his love would remain unaltered; and
while he thinks Yeames capable of goodness, and
you capable of loving him, he will endeavour to
bring about your marriage."
"His love?" she repeated, questioningly, with a
little emphasis.
"His love," I said again; "' and greater love hath
no man than this—that he lay down his life for
his friend.'"
"Do you think he loves Mr. Yeames to such an
extent as that?"
"I was not thinking of Mr. Yeames," said I; "he
is not the only friend concerned: it is a friend better


CHAPTER XVIII.
FIRST CHARGE AGAINST DR. AWDRET.
S time went on however my faith in that spoke
diminished.
Lynn Yeames had the sagacity to leave Coneyford,
and keep out of sight, knowing that he could do
nothing to re-establish his character until he should
be in the farm where he was to work such wonders,
or finding the bad weather that succeeded the frost
intolerable, or society dull, or for some other reason
that may be clearer later on.
I have said that he had made himself very popular
at Coneyford with his charities, his reckless riding,
his agreeable manners (to those he liked, or those
he wished to like him) and his assumption of bluff,
outspoken honesty. People were inclined to think


FIRST CHARGE AGAINST DR. AWDREY. 213
even better of him in his absence than when he
was amongst them, remembering the pleasant side
of his character, and forgetting the little slips which
occasionally may have awakened suspicion. He was
spoken of as a fine type of muscular Christianity.
Miss Dalrymple was constantly with these people, and
as it was generally understood that a tacit engage-
ment existed between her and Yeames, they thought
to please her by talking about him, and sounding his
praises. Then that dear, stupid old doctor, whenever
he got a letter from Lynn, must needs show it to
her and dilate on the fine prospect extending before a
young fellow with such manly feeling and high aim.
J. W ELS f* t Dingle Cottage several times when he
called, and it seemed to me he only came there to talk
about Lynn, or discuss the things he might do when he
took possession of Captain Ranger's farm—evidently
seeking to interest her in the improvements that
might be made on the estate with a view to her
sharing in Lynn's occupation when they should be
near neighbours. Miss Dalrymple could not listen to
all these direct or indirect praises of Lynn without
being influenced in his favour. But how could I undo
the mischief? What was the good of my firing shot


FIRST CHARGE AGAINST DR. AWDREY. 215
make no difference to his happiness; but the impend-
ing blow that threatened to shatter his peace of
mind for ever looked day by day more likely to
fall. Lynn would undoubtedly work well at his farm
at the beginning—the very novelty and romance of
the thing would please him; and then, with every-
body holding up hands in wonder and astonishment
at his prodigious virtue and "manliness," what was
to save poor Miss Dalrymple from falling into the
trap and marrying him? What avail would be my
single protest, now become a subject of public ridicule?
Nothing. They would marry: in six months he would
tire of her and farming; in nine months he would
neglect, her; in a year she would break her heart,
and the doctor would be the most miserable man
on the face of the earth.
It was the end of the second week in March,
and people were speculating on the day when Lynn
Yeames would make his appearance—for he was
to take possession of the farm on quarter day—
when something occurred which upset everything
—nothing less than a moral cataclysm altering the
entire aspect of affairs.
Coming home that particular afternoon I found
15


216 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
a visitor in my office who had been waiting there
three parts of an hour to see me.
He was a little pudgy man, with a short throat,
a puffy face, and eyes as like a pig's as ever I saw.
He breathed with difficulty, and gasped before each
sentence, and in the middle also if it was a long
one. He had not much hair; what there was of it
had a dirty, sandy tint; his whiskers were hardly dis-
tinguishable, they were so thinly planted, and so like
his complexion. He was dressed in a tightly-buttoned
frock coat that formed deep ridges in his waist,
and seemed to increase the difficulty of breathing.
In one hand he held his hat, in the other a pair of
gloves, and both rested on his knees, which, by
reason of their shortness and pudginess, were widely
separated.
"Afternoon, Mr. Keene ; afternoon, sir," he gasped,
turning his little blue eyes in the corner before
he could screw himself up on his legs to face me.
"Come to talk with you on a matter of business.
My name's Bax—Smithson Bax; " with this he sank
down on his chair and gasped again.
"Not the pleasure of knowing you, Mr. Bax," said
I, sitting down in front of him.


FIRST CHARGE AGAINST DR. AWDREY. 217
"Thought you might have heard of me from Lynn
Yeames, or' (gasp) mother, Mrs. Yeames. I am
—friend of the family."
"A professional friend?" I asked, for I detected
the look of a pettifogger in him.
"You may call me—professional friend if you like
—not a lawyer exactly—know something about it."
He gave me a glance that was not to be mistaken,
and continued: " To begin with, you must understand
that I—acting on behalf of the family—Lynn Yeames
nothing at all to do with it—better keep out of
it."
"He does not wish to take the responsibility of
anything you do?"
"That's it. Too generous—too careless of his own
interests—altogether too—" he gasped, and filled up
the break with a wave of his gloves.
"I understand his character perfectly, Mr. Bax;
let us come to the point."
"We'll go straight at it—begin in the middle—
save breath. Dr. Awdrey is a scoundrel!"
Lawyer as I am, this fairly took me back.
"Dr. Awdrey," he continued, "is nothing more
nor less" here a gasp and a short wave of his


FIRST CHARGE AGAINST DR. AWDREY. 219
"By a rope stretched from one side of the road
to the other."
"Good. I can produce a witness to prove that
he was engaged by Dr. Awdrey to stretch that rope
and throw you over!"
With that he dashed his gloves inside his hat,
planted his open hand on his knee, bunched up his
thick lips, and looked at me out of his little blue
eyes, as much as to say, "There you are ; what do
you think of that 1"
To tell the truth, I felt as if the floor had suddenly
sunk away from under my feet: but I was too
old to let it be seen, and said as calmly as I could—
"Well, sir, go on. You have not come here simply
to make that statement, I presume."
"That's one charge; but mark me!" he said,
pausing to put his finger to the side of his fat nose,
where he kept it as he continued—" Mark me! it
isn't the only one—more than one witness to be
produced. There's another charge—charge more
serious than stretching rope cross road—upsetting
you."
"And pray what charge is that, Mr. Bax?" I
asked, with pretended indifference.


220 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"A criminal charge. We reserve it—respect for
Mr. Lynn Yeames' feelings."
"Acharge of this kind is likely to do him more
injury than any one else," said I.
"Quite right to take the high horse Mr. Keene.
We know all about that;" he closed one of his little
eyes, and looked exceedingly deep as he said this.
"However, here's the fact—we can throw will into
chancery, and ruin Dr. Awdrey, if we make facts
public. Lynn Yeames does not wish to proceed.
Mrs. Yeames does. So do I. To meet Lynn's
wishes we will abandon proceedings"—once more
he laid his stubby finger on his stubby nose—" on
condition."
"Tell me straight out what you mean by that,"
I said.:;
"I mean—our side abandons proceedings—written
guarantee and all that sort of thing; you on your
side pay over interest on money left in trust for Miss
Flexmore. Awdrey professes he has no right to money
—give it up to Lynn, who has. Loses nothing—avoids
scandal—saves reputation. There you are."
"Have you anything more to add to this proposi-
tion?" I asked.


FIRST CHARGE AGAINST DR. AWDREY. 221
"Nothing, except this—stay proceedings for a week
—time for you to arrange with Awdrey, and give us
decision. One week from to-day—you understand?"
"Perfectly well; there is no necessity to keep you
waiting a week for a decision; you shall have it at
once. On behalf of my client and myself, I refuse
to have anything more to say to you. Let me
say in conclusion, you confounded, pettifogging
rascal," said I, rising and giving free vent to my
anger, "that if you could prove your criminal charge
against Dr. Awdrey, I am the last person in the
world who would compound a felony, but the first
who would take measures to punish the man who
did. Get out of my house!"
He got up on his little legs, gasping and stammer-
ing, dropped his gloves out of his hat, got purple in
the face in picking them up, gasped and stammered
again; but quickly made his way through the open
door with his small blue eyes in the corner, for all
the world like a pig bolting past a driver. Mrs.
Lynn's description of me, or her son's, for I had
no faith in his standing out, had evidently been
not flattering, and he had thought to find in me a
shuffling scoundrel of his own kidney.


CHAPTER XIX.
WHICH IS THE JUDAS?
1HIS event gave me no little anxiety at first, but
-1- it wore off when I came to consider it calmly.
I could not believe in the man's statement respect-
ing a criminal charge in reserve. It was not likely
he would keep back the stronger inducement in
leading to a compromise. As for his witness to prove
that Awdrey had been instrumental to my delay,
that was nothing; he could get as many witnesses
of that kind as he chose at a pound a head. No:
it seemed to me nothing but a mere attempt at
extortion, got up, probably, by Yeames, his mother,
and Bax, who thought, very likely, that I should be
rascal enough to stand in with them. It was easily
understandable that Mr. Lynn Yeames would prefer
the money all in his own hands in preference to


WHICH IS THE JUDAS?
223
taking a possible six hundred a year out of it, with
a not too probable addition should he succeed in
marrying Miss Dalrymple. But he was not fool
enough to put all his eggs in one basket, he was
cunning enough to disclaim any hand in the con-
spiracy, in order to profit by Awdrey's generosity,
should the attempt fail. But only think what a
heartless, thankless, worthless vagabond he must
have been to join in a plot against the man who
was sacrificing everything to make him happy.
I flattered myself that I had shown Bax the folly
of his "proceedings," and that I should neither see
nor hear any more of him or his criminal charges.
And this belief was strengthened when two days
later Lynn Yeames appeared in Coneyford, and his
mother returned to her cottage.
He went the very morning of his arrival to Dr.
Awdrey, and in the afternoon I saw them going along
the High Street together, Lynn with his arm linked
in Awdrey's. They were going towards the farm
to see the alterations and improvements that had
occurred to the doctor in the other's absence. I felt sure
then that the intimidation scheme was abandoned.
I had said nothing about it to Awdrey, knowing





WHICH IS THE JUDAS?
231
"What!" he exclaimed, knitting his brows in
astonishment.
"It's a fact. The rumour is circulating. You'll
have none but your paupers to doctor at the end of
the week."
"I'm glad of it," said he, "if the. rest will listen
to such nonsense as that."
"We shall have to take measures to disprove the
charge, doctor," said I.
He laughed boisterously.
"Not I," said he—"not though all the world
believes this."
"Yes you will, my dear fellow," I said quietly.
"All the world believes you poisoned the drug Miss
Dalrymple had to administer."
"That's another thing," said he, with sudden
earnestness. "You must take the necessary steps
at once for having an autopsy."
"A post-mortem examination: that will settle
the question at once."
"Then don't lose any time about it," said he.
'Poor Nurse Gertrude!" he added tenderly,
thinking doubtless of the affront he had received
being offered to her. Then in a tone of vexa-
lfi


232 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
tion tie asked: "How long have you known this,
Keene?"
"I heard something about it more than a week
ago."
"Why didn't you tell me at once?"
"Because I thought it merely a scheme to extort
money. A man named Bax spoke about it. Have
you heard the name?"
"No. Who is he?"
"A rascal who made the modest demand for two
thousand a year to hush up the matter. You have
not heard his name?"
"No—how should I?"
"Through Lynn Yeames. Bax tells me he is a
friend of the family."
"Lynn is no friend of his, I am certain," said
the doctor stoutly.
"Well, Bax is acting with the mother, and has
been staying at the cottage with the pair of 'em.
How's that?"
"I will go and see Lynn at once. I am sure he
is not party to this plot."
And he went off at once to find Lynn. And not
long afterwards I caught sight of the pair in the High


WHICH IS THE JUDAS?
233
Street, Lynn with his arm linked in the doctor's,
and a look in his face that seemed to bid people
observe that he still believed in Awdrey's innocence.
While I was looking after them, a colleague clapped
me on the shoulder, and said in a low voice, nodding
towards the two—
"Which is the Judas?"
"There can be no doubt about that," I replied,
"unless Judas be too good a name for Lynn
Yeames."
"I am not so sure about that, Keene. I don't like
Awdrey's quiet, long-suffering, martyrish manner.
He's a clever man—ten times cleverer than Yeames
—clever enough to make a big venture. If I had to
judge without evidence, I should acquit Yeames and
hang Awdrey. And I believe if you would only clear
your mind of prejudice"
I would not wait to hear more of such fustian. I
had no patience.
In due course I made a formal application for the
post-mortem examination of Flexmore's remains. To
my astonishment I learnt that the inquiry had been
already demanded and accorded: the examination
was to be made at once.


234 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"LyDn assures me, and I believe him," said Dr.
Awdrey when we next met, "that he has been op-
posed to his mother's action from the very begin-
ning. He could not with any delicacy tell me of her
proceedings. He himself insisted on Bax quitting his
mother's house."
I have no time or patience to dwell on these
trifles: I must at once come to the fact that utterly
unmanned me when I heard it.
The examination resulted in this: enough ar-
senic was found in Flexmore's body to have killed
a dozen men!


236 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
They could only shrug their shoulders; but I could
explain the matter to them—Flexmore was not
murdered at all. The arsenic was found in his mouth,
it had not touched the digestive apparatus, and for
this reason : it had been administered after the life
had left his body. This was the report made by the
authorized doctors who made the examination.
Upon this report no one could be accused of
murder legally, nor at the present juncture could a
charge of attempt to murder be instituted. That the
poison had not been given in the form of a potion,
such as Miss Dalrymple had been charged by Dr.
Awdrey to administer, was clear from the fact that
it was found in the form of a powder, and must have
been dropped into my old friend's mouth when his
jaw dropped after death. Still, it had clearly been
given with a view to destroying life should he recover
his vital faculties; and it was equally evident to the
majority of people that Awdrey, who knew the
contents of the will to be signed, alone was pre-
sumably desirous of preventing a return to life, for
only a very small minority knew that Lynn Yeames
also had a strong reason for making death sure at
that time.


GETTING EVIDENCE.
237
Now, though there was no evidence to commit
Awdrey for attempt to murder, circumstances were
sufficiently suspicious to enable the Teames party to
contest the will. But I had still stronger reasons
than that for getting at the truth of the matter, and
fixing the guilt on the guilty. Even the paupers
would refuse to take medicine from the hand of a
reputed murderer; but over and above all other
considerations was the peace and happiness of my
friends. Miss Dalrymple's words rung out clearly in
my memory, " he will not ask me to be his wife."
I went to work at once, and determined to take
no rest until I had secured the safety of poor Awdrey
and Nurse Gertrude. My clerk was a sharp, depend-
able young fellow.
"Now, Mr. Jones," said I, "I am going to put you
on your mettle."
"Glad of it, Mr. Keene," he replied eagerly. "Is
it this poisoning case, sir?"
"Yes, it is. Bax, Yeames's agent, says they can
produce the man who threw me out of the gig, and
prove that he was engaged to do it by Dr. Awdrey."
"I understand, sir. I know Mr. Bax by sight, and
Mr. Yeames too."


238 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"Yes; well, now, you must find their witness. In
all probability that trick was unpremeditated. It
was suggested to him by circumstances, by a chance
meeting with the fellow who stretched that rope.
Who might that be? It was just such a day as a
poacher would like for wiring hares. Yeames had
been doing a good deal of shooting. A poacher can
be more useful than a keeper to a gentleman on the
look-out for game. A man of that kind was the very
one to suit his purpose. And a man who would do a
job of that kind could be easily bribed to swear he
was employed by Dr. Awdrey. That man must be
found. Now, then, how are you going about it?"
"First of all," said Jones, after a little thought,
"I'll find out if any one has been spending money
freely in the beer shops up at Bagley; or whether
any one is away—because I should think Bax would
get him out of sight. But he must have a wife or
relatives about, and the neighbours are sure to be
jealous. May I tempt them to speak with a little
cash, sir?"
"As much as you need. Don't spare it. If Bax
has given twenty pounds to get a lie, we will give
fifty to have the truth. I see you know your


GETTING EVIDENCE.
239
business—go at it at once. If you bring that man
here in a week, you shall have a month's holiday
and a rise of ten pounds. There's money—now
off you go."
He was hardly out of the house before Miss Dal-
rymple came in.
"What are you going to do for Dr. Awdrey?" was
the first question she asked.
"I am going to prove his innocence, please God,"
I said.
"Tell me how," she said, in a tone of entreaty,
laying her hand on my arm.
"Well, that is difficult to say. There's so much
to do that I scarcely know where to begin."
"If there is much to do, let me help. Tell me
what I may do."
"That is still more difficult," I said, scratching my
ear. "This sort of work is scarcely suited to you, I
am afraid."
"Why not? I have a woman's wit, and I don't
mind what I do. I can't rest idle. Only tell me
what difficulty there is to overcome, and trust my
intelligence."
"There's one thiDg you can attempt, at- any rate,"


240 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
I said; "the rascal employed by Yeames, Bax
signified that they had a witness in reserve to prove
a criminal charge against Awdrey. That means they
have got hold of some one to swear to his adminis-
tering the arsenic. Now that some one must be of
this place. If you can find out who it is, and let me
know, I may persuade that witness to stand on the
side of truth."
"I understand you. I will try," she said, but with
a wandering look, as though she were seeking the
means to penetrate such a mystery.
"It is an almost impossible task, I know," said I;
"but your sex can talk so fast, and get to the point
so adroitly, that I fancy you have as much chance of
succeeding as I have. Now I must go off and see
Awdrey."
"I should like to go with you," she said timidly,
yet with earnestness.
I showed her that it would be better not to go at
this moment.
"Tell him that—that I sympathize with him, Mr.
Keene," she said tenderly.
"You may be sure of that," said I, pressing her
hand.


242 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
an account of every minute of the day that
Flexmore died."
Then carefully we went over the events of that
day to the minutest particular, from the hour of
his rising until he went again to bed.
What I learnt will appear duly in its place.
It was a long job, necessitating much discussion
and verification, but we stuck at it until it was done,
then we ate and drank and made as merry as we could.
It was no effort to Awdrey; f had never seen him in
such high spirits. It was as if ten years of hard work
and disappointment had been taken off his shoulders.
Only now and then his face assumed its old gravity
as the thought perhaps occurred to him that if he
failed to prove his innocence he must slip back again
into the Slough of Despond.
It was past five when I got back to my office. To
my utter astonishment I found Miss Dalrymple
waiting there for me, and with her a woman.
Miss Dalrymple rose and met me with forced
calm, but I could see that her face was flushed
with triumph, and her eyes were sparkling
with excitement.
"I have brought Mrs. Bates to see you, said she,"





GETTING EVIDENCE.
247
She glorified her own steadfastness and sense of
rectitude, and so went away.
Miss Dalrymple had sunk into a chair, and met my
gaze with a look of dejection. She was evidently
disappointed that I had not persuaded Mrs. Bates
from her adverse opinion.
KI am afraid my witness will do us more harm
than good. This broken bottle adds to the weight
of evidence against Dr. Awdrey."
"My dear girl," said I, taking her hand between
both of mine, "that woman's evidence is worth a
Jew's eye to us. You have done us an incalculable
benefit in bringing her here."
17


CHAPTER XXI.
THE INQUIRY.
T WAS not astonished the next morning when
-*- my housekeeper brought me Mr. Bax's card.
"Introduce Mr. Bax at once," said I, in a voice
that he might hear.
Mr. Bax puffed his way into the office like an
unsound locomotive, and I gave him my hand
with a smile. He winked significantly, and stretched
out his legs when he seated himself, feeling that he
was master of the situation.
"Not quite so much virtuous indignation about,
Keene, eh?"
"Tempora mutantur, you know, Mr. Bax; et nos
mutamur in Mis," said I blandly. There's nothing
flatters an ignorant man so pleasantly as to imply
a belief in his learning.


250 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"Prove his innocence—how do you propose to do
that?"
"I suggest that we hold a meeting in this office
of all the parties concerned, and invite the
attendance of some well-known person—a justice
of the peace say—to give the inquiry publicity,
and make a thorough examination of the affair from
beginning to end. I shall try to prove my client's
innocence to the satisfaction of the magistrate.
If I fail, so much the worse for us; if I succeed,
I shall be very willing to listen to any terms you
may propose."
"And reject 'em," grunted Bax; and then, look-
ing extremely sly, he pursued, "I'm as deep as
you, Keene. You don't catch me in a trap. If you
get the magistrate and public opinion on your side,
you'll be as saucy as you were the other day."
"I sha'n't be a fool, Mr. Bax. You can withhold
your decision as to your final course until you have
made terms with me: it is always open to you after
this examination—which, as I have shown you, is but
a proper safeguard of my own reputation—to contest
the will, and take public proceedings. All I demand
is a full examination, and some public recognition


THE INQUIRY.
251
of Dr. Awdrey's innocence, before I attempt any
pecuniary accommodation with you."
"We withhold our decision after the examination
until terms are made with you," mused Bax,
with his finger on his nose and his eye on the
ceiling. "Well, I don't see much objection to the
meeting in that case. But the poison in the man's
mouth—how are you going to explain that?"
"I may be able to prove," said I, after a show of
hesitation, "that Flexmore feared untimely burial
and left instructions for means to be taken after
death to prevent resuscitation. I may be able to
produce his written wish to that effect."
"By George, that's a clever notion!" exclaimed Bax
gasping approval. "Was it the doctor's idea,or yours?"
"Oh, let me impress upon you at once," said
I, "that the doctor pleads not guilty to everything,
and will take no measures whatever to clear himself
from suspicion."
"He does very well—follow your instructions—
leave his case in such able hands—compliments,
Keene." He waved his gloves towards me. "Of
course you don't want us to produce our witnesses—
keep them out of the way."


252 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"On the contrary, I shall call Mrs. Bates."
"Oh, you've found her out, eh? Hard nut she
is. Any way, you won't want the fellows Awdrey
engaged—fellows who tripped you up, I mean."
"We won't bother ourselves about them,"
said I.
He rose.
"Well, I'll talk it over with the Yeameses, and
if they don't object—no reason why we shouldn't
fall in with your plan."
We shook hands and parted with mutual hypocrisy,
and I got my hat in order to seek the magistrate
whom I had fixed on in my thoughts for the service I
needed. I felt certain the examination would be
agreed to; for, though it might be a ticklish business
for Yeames, it was not half so hazardous as opening
a lawsuit. He had not the money for such a venture,
to begin with, and I knew that Bax would lead him to
suppose the inquiry in my office was a mere farce
to make me clear in the opinion of my clients;
and that, however it ended, he could be no worse
off-than in the beginning.
By the time Bax was out of sight, I went off to the
Manor House to see Sir Roland Firkin, J.P.


254 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
of his friends and himself should it be found that the
charge against him was unjust.
The next day Bax called upon me to say that
Lynn and his mother agreed to attend the inquiry,
and I fixed it for the following afternoon at three
o'clock; for, as luck would have it, I had received
just half an hour before a telegram from my clerk,
saying that he had found two men who acknowledged
to stretching the rope, and had agreed to tell the
whole truth concerning the affair. The despatch came
from London, and I reckoned upon these witnesses
arriving by the morning train which reaches Coney-
ford at 10.30.
In the evening I went to my friends, and I also
called upon Mrs. Bates, binding them all to be in my
office at the hour fixed •, then I went home and spent
the best part of the night in drawing up the questions
to be put, for I determined that Sir Roland Firkin
should be the chief actor in the inquiry, not only
because it would please the old gentleman, but be-
cause the question would wear less of an ex parte
aspect coming from him.
The next morning I had my office table pushed up
in a corner, and a long dining-table brought in covered


CHAPTER XXH.
BROUGHT TO BOOK.
.R. AWDREY and Miss Dalrymple were the first
to arrive: they came together—Awdrey with
a bright and cheerful smile on his face, and perfectly
calm; Miss Dalrymple showing symptoms of nervous-
ness, but staunch and true for all that.
Next came Sir Roland Firkin; we had a private
chat in my dining-room, and I put the list of ques-
tions in his hand, instructing him as tenderly as I
could how to conduct the inquiry. He was mightily
pleased with his own importance.
Then Mr. Bax and Mrs. Yeames arrived: Mr. Bax
puffed and gasped, bowing to one and then the other
with the solemnity of an undertaker; Mrs. Yeames
passed to her seat, after a low obeisance to Sir Roland,
without recognizing Dr. Awdrey and Miss Dalrymple)
except by drawing down her lips and contracting


BROUGHT TO 'BOOK.
257
her nostrils as she might in passing an unsavory
dustheap.
As the clock struck three Mrs. Bates, who had been
waiting outside, gave a single bang at the door and
was introduced: her courtesy to Sir Roland and her
rigidity in sitting down, together with her air of con-
scious virtue, gave her a strong resemblance to Mrs.
Yeames—for the reason perhaps that their airs
sprang in both cases from a narrowness and vul-
garity of mind.
Lynn Yeames came in two minutes later, panting
with the haste he had made, and beaming all over
with that frank, manly, generous smile of his. He
looked round the room, saw Awdrey standing beside
Miss Dalrymple, and strode up to him, head erect,
shoulders back, and his hand out, as if to say before
us all—"I do not share this common ill-opinion of
my old friend."
Dr. Awdrey stood perfectly still, and looked
straight in Lynn's face without moving a muscle,
letting him stand there with his extended hand
untaken. With a sigh and a shrug Lynn dropped
his hand and turned away. This was a little coup
de tMdtre.


258 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
Mr. Bax approached the table, put his knuckles
on it, and, after bowing to Sir Roland Firkin,
said impressively—" I was given to understand—
this was to be an amicable inquiry. The hostile
attitude of Dr. Awdrey towards my friend, Mr.
Lynn Yeames"
"You overlook the fact, Mr. Bax," said I, knuck-
ling the table on the other side, "that the onus of
administering arsenic to Mr. Flexmore falls upon
one of three people—Dr. Awdrey, Mr. Yeames, and
Miss Dalrymple. You cannot expect Dr. Awdrey, by
taking the hand of Mr. Yeames, to imply his belief
in the guilt of Miss Dalrymple."
"A very nice distinction, Mr. Keene,' said Sir
Roland, "which I think you, Mr. Yeames, must have
overlooked."
This was one to us.
"Now we will proceed to business," said Sir
Roland, taking the chair at the head of the
table.
Mr. Bax, Mrs. Yeames, and Lynn sat on the left-
hand side of the table; Miss Dalrymple, Dr. Awdreyj
and I, faced them on the right. Mrs. Bates sat at a
little distance from the table; a shorthand clerk I


BROUGHT TO BOOK.
259
had engaged for this occasion sat at the desk in the
corner.
Sir Roland began with a nice little speech of course,
which included a well-chosen verse from Shakespeare,
and concluded with an earnest wish that every one
might be found perfectly innocent of the shocking
charge which had been brought forward. He then
poured out a glass of water, took a sip, settled
his glasses firmly on his nose, and, taking up my
sheet of questions, said—" Miss Gertrude Dalrymple,
you remember the day of Mr. George Flexmore's
death?"
"Perfectly well," she replied.
"What hour was it when you first saw him that
day?"
"About eight o'clock in the morning."
"Was he alone at that time?"
"No. Dr. Awdrey was sitting beside him."
"He had been watching at Mr. Flexmore's bedside
all night, I believe?"
"Yes; he insisted the previous night on taking my
place and giving me rest."
"How long did you stay in the room?"
"Only a few minutes—merely the time to learn


262 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
Yeames?" said Sir Roland, straying from Lis
notes.
Mr. Bax interfered at once: he could not allow
witness to be led to suppose anything.
Sir Roland sipped water, and returned to his
notes.
"When did you again see Mr. Yeames?"
"About half-past three."
"In what condition was Mr. Flexmore then?"
"Dying; he was unconscious when Mr. Yeames
entered the room."
"What followed?"
"Shortly after Mr. Yeames came in Mr. Flexmore
died. When I was sure he was no more I left the
room, taking Miss Flexmore down stairs."
"Did Mr. Yeames accompany you?"
"No; he remained in the room."
"What was he doing when you left him?"
"He was standing at the window, looking out."
"Was there anything peculiar in his manner?"
"He seemed utterly unconscious when I spoke to
him. I spoke twice, and he made no reply—no
movement whatever."
"What else occurred to your recollection?"


BROUGHT TO BOOK.
263
"Laure, Miss Flexmore, was overcome with grief.
While I was attempting to console her, I heard'
Mr. Keene in the hall; he went up stairs. After
a little while he came down with Mr. Yeames;
they both came into the sitting-room where I was
with Miss Flexmore."
"Did Mr. Yeames—er—st ill seem ill at ease, may
I ask?" said Sir Roland, laying down his paper for
an instant.
"I do not think you may ask that," said Mr.
Bax.
Sir Roland bowed, took another sip, and resumed
questioning from the notes.
"How long did Mr. Keene stay with you 1"
"About twenty minutes."
"Was Mr. Yeames in the room all the
time?"
"No; he went out of the room, but not out
of the house, before Mr. Keene left."
"Did anything occur to make him leave the
room?"
"He seemed to have lost something. He felt
repeatedly in his pockets, and looked about the


264 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"Did he continue his search after leaving the
room?"
"Yes; he had a candle, and looked all up the
stairs and in the hall."
"Do you know what it was he had lost?"
"A piece of paper. He said there was an im-
portant memorandum on it, and he offered to
give the maid half a sovereign if she found it."
I glanced at Mr. Yeames, so did Sir Eoland, whom
I touched with my toe under the table. The young
man was looking at the white paper before him,
and there was scarcely more colour in his face. He
looked up in quick dread at the next question.
"Was that paper found?"
"No."
Mr. Yeames drew a long breath of relief.
"Have you anything to ask Miss Dalrymple, Kr.
Keene?"
I replied "No;" and he put the same question
to Mr. Bax, who equally declined to put any
questions.
"I shall now ask you, Mr. Lynn Yeames, to give
me your attention. You do not dispute the order
of events as stated by Miss Dalrymple?"


266 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"You are sure of that?" asked Sir Roland.
"I will take my oath I saw nothing of the
kind."
"When you left Flexmore House the second time,
about half-past one, where did you go?"
"To fetch Dr. Awdrey."
"Dr. Awdrey was not at home, I believe?"
"He was not. I waited for him half an hour, or
thereabouts."
"Where did you wait?"
"In his private sitting-room."
"You know that the consulting-room adjoins
the sitting-room?"
A nudge—" Yes."
"Did you go in there for any purpose?"
A sniff from Mr. Bax—"No."
"After waiting quietly in the sitting-room half
an hour, you returned to Flexmore House?"
"Yes; I was anxious about Mr. Flexmore's
condition."
"With respect to the piece of paper you mis-
laid; have you any objection to stating what it
was?"
'None; it was a leaf from my note-book, con-


BROUGHT TO BOOK.
267
taining memoranda respecting horses I had backed
for a spring meeting."
Here Sir Roland again asked if we had any
questions to ask, and, on receiving a reply in the
negative, he proceeded to question Mrs. Bates.
"You were in the service of Dr. Awdrey, I be-
lieve, at the time of Mr. Flexmore's death?"
"I were, sir."
"The previous night Dr. Awdrey was absent from
home?"
"He were, sir. He came in about half-past ten
or eleven the next morning, I will not swear exact,
and he ast for breakfast—which tea and a rasher
of bacon I gave him."
"After that he went out?"
"He did; about twelve or half-past, I will not
swear."
"You had tidied up his room in the morning
as usual 1"
"I had; about seven or half-past. I will
not"
"You are not asked to swear, Mrs. Bates. Now
in tidying up his room, had you occasion to go
into the consulting-room?"


268 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
"I never ventured there, sir; though I may be
disbelieved."
"When Mr. Yeames called, you showed him into
the sitting-room?"
"I did; him being a friend, as I was led to
believe, of Dr. Hawdrey's."
"During the half hour he was there did you
hear any particular sound?
"An 'awker were crying s'rimps"
"I mean in the room where—er—Mr. Yeames
was sitting?"
"No, sir, I did not; being at my dooties hup
stairs."
"Nothing like the crash of a falling bottle?"
"Nothink of the kind."
"The door communicating with the consulting-
room was open?"
"No; it were closed, though the key turned."
"But the key was in?"
"It were."
"There was nothing, in fact, to prevent Mr.
Yeames strolling in there from curiosity—to
while away the time that he was waiting for
Dr. Awdrey?"


BROUGHT TO BOOK.
269
"Nothink; but I believe Mr. Yeames were too
much the gentleman to go a-prying and a-peering."
She had evidently a gratuity in view, that
Mrs. Bates.
"When did you first hear of a bottle being
broken?"
"When Dr. Awdrey came in; about four o'clock
or half-past. He asked me if I had done it, and
I said I had not; and should feel obliged if he
would find some one else, as I did not like such
things to be laid to me."
"Did he make any other remark about the con-
sulting room? Was anything missing from there?''
"Yes; he said a prescription was gone."
"Did he describe the prescription?"
"Yes; he said it were written on the bottle
papers."
"What do you mean by the bottle papers?"
"A pile of square papers, white, as stood on the
little side counter."
"Can you show me what the papers were like?"
"Exactly like that sheet on the table," pointing
to a sheet of thin white paper which I had purposely
laid on the table near where she was to sit. "Dr


270 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
Hawdrey tried to pass it off afterwards," Mrs. Bates
volunteered; "he said it must have been the shaking
of carts passing, or the cat, and offered to rise my
celery if I would stay. But I refused, seein' it were
not the first time he had laid temptation in
my way—giving me half-a-crown to buy a four-
penny arrand, and not askin' for the change till
two days afterwards—which I kept it back to prove
him."
"That is enough. Dr. Awdrey, I shall confine
my questions to events connected with the latter
part of the evidence. Tell me, if you please, what
you know about the broken bottle of arsenic."
"It was a blue bottle, labelled in large letters
'Arsenic: poison.' On going into the consulting-
room I found it in fragments on the floor, with the
powder widely scattered."
"How did you account for its being there?"
"I believed that Mrs. Bates had taken it down
from the shelf on which it stood, and that it had
slipped from her fingers in putting it back."
"It is false, Dr. Hawdrey!" exclaimed Mrs. Bates.
Mrs. Yeames nodded approval.
"Hush, Mrs. Bates, if you please. Did it not


BROUGHT TO BOOK.
273
had been induced to make the alteration through
Dr. Awdrey."
"Dr. Awdrey wished the will leaving property to
him to be revoked?" exclaimed Sir Roland.
"He did," said I; and I explained Awdrey's
reasons, and all about it fully. Then I continued—
"In the new will the name of Lynn Yeames was to
be substituted for Dr. Awdrey's. I had the draft o£
the first will, and intending to copy it after lunch, had
imprudently left it on the table in this room. Mr.
Yeames came in here; I was in the next room.
You see the blind to the half-glazed door. It is
opaque from this point of view; it is transparent
from the other side. Standing by the door before
entering, I saw Lynn Yeames reading the draft of
Mr. Flexmore's first will. He was at once led to
conclude that this was the second will commanded
by Flexmore."
Here Bax protested.
"I appeal to you, sir," said I to Sir Roland, "to
say whether my statement is in order or not."
"You are perfectly in order, sir; go on," said Sir
Roland Firkin, highly gratified by this appeal to
his ruling.


274 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
I was not in order, but he knew no better.
"With the belief that I was making out a will
which would beggar him, he went away, and you can
see that he had the strongest inducement to delay
me and prevent Mr. Flexmore signing a second
will."
"Sir Koland Firkin," gasped Mr. Bax, "I protest
most"
"Silence, if you please," said Sir Roland; "I rule
that Mr. Keene is perfectly in order. Go on,
sir."
"After seeing my old friend lying in his bedroom
above, dead, I went down stairs with Lynn Yeames, as
you have heard. There, in a moment of impatience,
he flicked his handkerchief from his pocket, and in
doing so shot out a pellet of paper. I put my foot
on that pellet of paper, and when Yeames left the
room to look for it I put it in my pocket."
"Quite right, too, Mr. Keene; go on," said Sir
Roland in great excitement.
"T put it away in a drawer where I keep things
which may at some time be of service, and forgot all
about it until my suspicion was directed to Yeames
by the discovery that the very day he lost it he


276 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
hadn't been listening like, said he'd give us a pound

"'WEKE A-UOIN' QUEEN'S EVIDENCE."'
"Sir," said I to Sir Roland, seeing Yeames, his
mother, and Bax edging towards the door, "on this


BROUGHT TO BOOK.
277
evidence I ask you to commit Lynn Yeames for
conspiracy."
"Ay, I'll commit the -whole batch, and you,
Mrs. Bates, as well. Send for my clerk, and the
papers."
But we could not detain any one of the batch
while the commitments were being procured, and so
Lynn, his mother, and Bax got clear off. And,
thank heaven, we have neither seen nor heard
anything of them since—which is the best thing
that could have happened for them and for us.
# * • « * *
What is there to add? Nothing but what should
conclude a tale of struggle between right and wrong.
Dr. Awdrey married Gertrude, and lost no time
over it—I believe as he took her hand in his, when
his innocence and perfect freedom was proved, and
they looked into each other's eyes dimmed with the
tear of joy, it was understood between them that
hand and heart were joined for ever.
They live with Laure in the pretty cottage on the
hill. Awdrey gave up his practice and went heart
and soul into farming, and when he found the land


278 A RECOILING VENGEANCE.
could be worked to pecuniary advantage he bought
it out, divided it into portions, and let it to the men
who had laboured upon it—thus making them inde-
pendent. I feared the scheme would not pay, but it
has to a marvellous extent, thanks to Awdrey's wise
and practical counsel to his tenants. Yet, though he
has given up practice, there's not a day in the
week but some one calls to benefit by his skill in
medicine.
Laure is now verging on womanhood, and a good
many young fellows in Coneyford wedge themselves
into the circle of acquaintances with which Dr. Awdrey
and his wife are surrounded for her sake. I have
my eye on one who I think may be found worthy
of her hand. Laure pretends, with a blush, that she
does not want to marry, and would rather stay for
ever with Gertrude and her children. One fine day
she will pretend that her heart will break if she
cannot marry.
The Awdreys have three boys, and fine sturdy
fellows they are.
"They make me feel that I am getting older,"
said Gertrude.
"And so much the happier," I replied.


BROUGHT TO BOOK.
279
It seems to me that Awdrey himself is positively
younger for the lapse of time. I never knew a man

"IT 18 A TREAT TO SEE HIM WITH HIS BOYS."
more cheerful and bright. It is a treat to see him
with his boys in the shed he has fitted up as a
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