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 ; r/^/? / 
 
 )^/' 1O--UL 
 
THE S/IADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 A BRIDB FROM THE BUSH 
 
 UNDER TWO SKIES 
 
 TINY LUTTRELL 
 
 THE BOSS OP TAROOMBA 
 
 ^HB UNBIDDEN QUEST 
 
 THE ROGUE'S MARCH 
 
 IRRAUE'S BUSHRANGER 
 
 MY LORD DUKB 
 
 YOUNG BLOOD 
 
 SOME PERSONS UNKNOWN 
 
 THE AMATEUR CRACKSMAN 
 
 DEAD MEN 'i^BLL NO TALBS 
 
 THE BELLE OF TOORAK 
 
 PECCAVI 
 
 THE BLACK MASK 
 
 NO HERO 
 
 DENIS DENT 
 
 STINOARBE 
 
 A THIEF IN THE I OHT 
 
 RAFFLBSi AMATEUR CRACKSMAN 
 
 MR. JUSTICE RAFFLJSS 
 
 THE CAMBRA FIEND 
 
THE SH/VDOW OF 
 THE ROPE 
 
 ar 
 
 E. W. HORNUNG 
 
 AUTHOR OP 
 "RAPPLBS ^MATBUR CRACKSMAN," " tTINOARBB," BTC, 
 
 % 
 
 WILLIAM BRIGGS 
 TORONTO 
 

 namn n 
 
 WnXUM CLOWXS AKD SONS, UMin^ 
 LOMOOM AMB BK OCLW . 
 
 AttHghtirmrvid' 
 
 ^i4#i^ 
 
 
TO MY FRIEND 
 
 EDWARD SHORTT 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 L 
 
 The Ekd or thrtb Lira 
 
 #•• 
 
 riAB 
 
 n. 
 
 The Cass tob the Cbown 
 
 ••• ••• 
 
 14 
 
 m. 
 
 Name asd Natubb 
 
 • •■ 
 
 ... 24 
 
 IV. 
 
 The Man ht the Train 
 
 ••• ••• 
 
 36 
 
 V. 
 
 The Man nsr the Stkkwp ... 
 
 • •• 
 
 ... 61 
 
 VL 
 
 A Pejupatetio Protidencb 
 
 ••• ••» 
 
 67 
 
 VIL 
 
 A MoBNiNG Call 
 
 • •■ 
 
 ... 77 
 
 vm. 
 
 The Dove and the Sebpent 
 
 ••• ••• 
 
 85 
 
 EL 
 
 A Chanob of Scene 
 
 • •• 
 
 ... 100 
 
 X. 
 
 A SUOHT DUOBEPANCT ... 
 
 ••• ••• 
 
 109 
 
 XL 
 
 Anothbb New Friend 
 
 • •• 
 
 ... 112 
 
 XIL 
 
 EraoM OF tot Invisible Visitob 
 
 136 
 
 xm, 
 
 The ArRTRAUAN Room 
 
 • •t 
 
 ... 154 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Battle Royal 
 
 • •• 
 
 163 
 
 XV. 
 
 A Chance Encounter 
 
 •• 
 
 ... 172 
 
 XVL 
 
 A Match fob Mrs. Venablbs 
 
 >•• ••• 
 
 183 
 
 XVIL 
 
 FBUHua nr Need 
 
 • •• 
 
 ... 196 
 
 XVIIL 
 
 •* Thet which were bidden " 
 
 ••• ••• 
 
 205 
 
mi 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 XIX. IUohm's Champio* 
 XX. MoB« Habtb ... 
 XXL WoBSB Bpbw> 
 
 XXn. Thb Dawomtt Hoto ... 
 XXni. Dawk ... 
 
 XXIV. Om who was hot biddm 
 
 ygy. A Ponrt TO Lanohoui 
 
 XXVL A CASDnrAL Poibt 
 XXVn. Thb Whoue Tbxjth 
 XXVIH. Ih »h" Maoteb or a Motivb ... 
 
 rMB 
 
 .« 217 
 
 229 
 ... 2a7 
 248 
 259 
 271 
 ... 2«2 
 296 
 ... 812 
 
 Ai^ 
 
 hHbi 
 
THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE END OF THEIE UFX 
 
 " It is finidbed,^ said the woman, speaking very quietly 
 to herself. "Not another day, nor a night, if I can 
 be ready before morning ! " 
 
 She stood alone in her own room, with none to mark 
 the white-hot pallor of the oval face, the scornful 
 curve of quivering nostrils, the dry lustre of flashing 
 eyes. But while she stood a heavy step went blus- 
 tering down two flights of stairs, and double doors 
 slammed upon the ground floor. 
 
 It was a little Lrmdon house, with five floors from 
 basement to attic, and a couple of rooms upon e&ch, 
 like most little liouses in London ; but this one had 
 latterly been the scene of an equally undistinguished 
 
 j drama of real lift«^ upon which the curtain was even 
 now descending. Although a third was whispered by 
 the worU, the peirsons of this drama were really only 
 
 [two. 
 
 i 
 
I 
 
 
 t THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 BAchel Minchin, befoxe tue diMstrouB step which 
 gave her that surname, was a young Australian lady 
 whose apparent attractions were only equalled by her 
 absolute poverty ; that is to say, she had been bom 
 at Heidelberg, near Melbourne, of English parents 
 more gentle than practical, who soon left her to fighc 
 the world and the devil with no other armoury than 
 a good face, a fine nature, and the pride of any heiress. 
 It is true that Rachel also had a voice ; but there was 
 never enough of it to augur an income. At twenty, 
 therefore, she was ahready a governess in the wilds, 
 where women are as scarce as water, but where the man 
 for Rachel did not breathe. A few years later she 
 earned a berth to England as companion to a lady ; 
 and her fate awaited her on board. 
 
 Mr. Minchin had reached his prime in the under- 
 world, <rf which he also was a native, without touching 
 affluence until his fortieth year. Nevertheless, he was 
 a travelled man, and no mere nomad of the bush. As 
 a mining expert he had seen much life in South Africa 
 as well as in Western Australia, but at last he was to 
 see more in Europe as a gentleman of means. A 
 wife had no place in his European scheme ; a hus- 
 band was the last thing Rachel wanted ; but a long 
 sea voyage, an uncongenial employ, and the persistent 
 chivalry of a handsome, entertaining, self-confident 
 man of the world, formed a combination as fatal to 
 her inexperience as that of so much poverty, pride, 
 and beauty proved to Alexander Minchin. lliey were 
 
THE END OF THEIR LIFE 8 
 
 married without ceremony on the very day that they 
 arrived in England, where they had not an actual 
 friend between them, nor a relative to whom either 
 was personally known. In the beginning this mattered 
 nothing ; they had to see Europe and enjoy themselves ; 
 that they could do unaided ; and the bride did it only 
 the more thoroughly, in a sort of desperation, as she 
 reab'zed that the benefits of her marriage were to be 
 wholly material after all. 
 
 In the larger Ufe of cities, Alexander Minchin was 
 no longer the idle and good-humoured cavalier to 
 whom Rachel had learned to look for unfailing con- 
 sideration at sea. The illustrative incidents may be 
 omitted but here he gambled, there he drank ; and 
 in his cups every virtue dissolved. Rachel's pride did 
 not mend matters ; she was a thought too rea'iy with 
 her resentment ; of this, however, she was herself aware, 
 and would forgive the more freely because there was 
 often some obvious fault on her side before all was 
 said. Quarrels of infinite bitterness were thus patched 
 j up, and the end indefinitely delayed. 
 
 In the meantime, tired of travelling, and impoverished 
 
 [by the husband's follies, the hapless couple returned 
 
 Ito London, where a pure fiuke with some mining shares 
 
 lintroduced Minchin to finer gambling than he had 
 
 found abroad. The man was bitten. There was a 
 
 jfortune waiting for special knowledge and a little 
 
 iy cash ; and Alexander Minchin settled down to 
 
 ke it, taking for the nonce a furnished house in a 
 
THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 1 
 
 modest iiei^bourhood. And here it wm that the 
 quarrelling continued to it* culmination in the scene 
 just ended. 
 
 "Not another daj,^ Mid Rachel, "nor a night— if 
 I can be ready before morning ! ^ 
 
 Being still a woman with some strength of purpose, 
 Mrs. Minchin did not stop at idle words. The intenral 
 between the slamming of doors below and another 
 noise at the top of the house was not one "*{ many 
 minutes. The otlier noise was made by Rac^d and 
 her empty trunk upon the loftiest and the narrowest 
 flight of stairs ; one of the maids opened their do<Mr 
 an inch. 
 
 ** I am soriy if I disturbed you,** thdr mistress said. 
 ** These st^ are so very narrow. No, thank you, I 
 can manage quite welL^ And they heard her about 
 until they slept 
 
 It was no light task to which Rachel had set her 
 hand; she was going back to Australia by the first 
 boat, and her packing must be done that night Her 
 resolve only hardened as her spirit cooled. The sooner 
 her departure, the less his opposition ; let her delay, 
 and the callousness of the passing brute might give 
 place to the tyranny of the normal man. But she was 
 going, whether or no ; not another day — though she 
 would doubtless see its dawn. It was the month of 
 September. And she was not going to fly empty- 
 handed, or fly at all ; she was going deliberately away, 
 with a truck containing all that she should want upt»t 
 
 I 
 
THE END OF THEIR LIFE $ 
 
 the Toyage. Hie selection was not too easily made. 
 In his better moods the creature had been lavish 
 enough ; and more than <^jnoe did Rachel snatch from 
 drawer or wardrobe that which remained some moments 
 in her hand, while the incidents of purchase and tte 
 first joys of possession, to one who had possessed so 
 little in her life, came back to her wiUi a certain 
 poignancy. 
 
 But her resolve remained unshaken. It might hurt 
 her to take his personal gifts, but that was all she had 
 <>Ter had from him; he had never granted her a set 
 allowance; for every penny she m>'ist needs ask and 
 look grateful It would be no £&ult of hers if she 
 had to strip her fingers for passage-money. Yet the 
 exigeacy troubled her; it touched her honour, to say 
 nothing of her pride ; and, after an unforeseen fit of 
 irresolution, Rachel s'^ddenly determined to tell her 
 husband of her difficulty, making direct appeal to the 
 capricious generosity which had been readied to her 
 mind as an imdeniably redeeming point. It was true 
 that he had given her hearty leave to go to the utter- 
 most ends of the earth, and highly probable that he 
 would bid her work her own way. She felt an impulse 
 to put it to him, however, and at once. 
 
 She looked at her watch — it at least had been her 
 mother's — and the final day was already an hour old. 
 But Alexander Minchin was a late sitter, as his young 
 wife knew to her cost, and to-night he had told her 
 rhere he meant to sleep, but she had not heard him 
 
I 
 
 6 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 come up. The room would h«Te been the beck 
 drewing-room in the migority of such homes, end 
 lUchel peeped in on her way down. It wee empty ; 
 moreover, the bed wai not made, nor the curtains 
 drarn. Rachel repaired the first omission, then hesi- 
 tated, finally creeping upstairs again for dean sheets. 
 And as she made his bed, not out of any lingering 
 love for him, but from tt, sense of duty and some 
 consideration for his oomf.>rt, there was yet something 
 touching in her iustinctiTe care, that breathed thii 
 wife she could have been. 
 
 He rlid not hear her, though the stairs creaked the 
 unallness of tibe hour — or if he heard he made no sign. 
 This discouraged Rachel as she stole down the lower 
 flight; she would hare preferred the angriest sign. 
 But there were few internal sounds which penetrated 
 to the little study at the back of the dining-room, for 
 the permanent tenant was the widow of au eminent 
 professor lately deceased, and that student had pro- 
 tected his quiet with double doors. The outer one, 
 in dark red baize, made an alarming noise as Rachel 
 pulled it open ; but, though she waited, no sound came 
 from within ; nor was Minchin disturbed by the final 
 entry of his wife, whose first glance convinced her of 
 the cause. In the professor's armchair sat his unworthy 
 successor, chin on waistcoat, a newspaper across his 
 knees, an empty decanter at one elbow. Something 
 remained in the glass beside the bottle; he had 
 tumbled ofi* before the end. There were even signs 
 
THE END OF THEIR IJFE 7 
 
 (^ delibcnto prepantions for slumber, for tha shade 
 was tilted over the electric light by which he had been 
 reading, as a hat b tilted over the eyes. 
 
 Badiel had a toudi of pity at seeing him in a chair 
 for the night; but the teuwimony of Uie decanter for- 
 bade mnorse. She had filled it herself in the evening 
 against her husband's return from an absence of myste- 
 nous length. Now she understood that mystery, and 
 her bet darkened as she recalled the inconceivable 
 insult which his explanation had embraced. No, indeed ; 
 not another minute that she could help! And he 
 would sleep there till ail hours of the morning; he 
 had fL'me it before ; the longer the better, this time. 
 
 She had^ recoiled into the narrow hall, driven by an 
 micootrollable revulsion ; and there she stood, pale and 
 quivering with a disgust that only deepened as she 
 looked her last upon the shaded face and the inanimate 
 frame in the chair. Rachel could not account for the 
 intensity of her feeling ; it bordered upon nausea, and 
 for a time prevented her from retracing the single step 
 whidi at length enabled her to shut both doors as 
 quietly as she had opened them, after switching off 
 the l^ht from force of habit. There was another 
 light still glowing in the hall, and, again frx>m habit, 
 Rachel put it out also before setting foot upon the 
 stairs. A moment later she was standing terror-stricken 
 in the dark. 
 
 It was no sound from the study, but the tiniest of 
 metallic rattles from the flap of the letter-box in the 
 
THE SHADOW OF THE ROFB 
 
 ! 
 
 \i i 
 
 front door. Th« wind might have done it, for the 
 ilep had lort iti spring ; and, though the noiee wet 
 not repeated, to Uie wind Rachel put it down, an ahe 
 mounted the stain at last in a flutter that caused her 
 both abame and apprehension. Her nerve was going, 
 and she needed it so f It should not go ; it should 
 not; and as if to steii it, she opened the landing 
 window, and speut some minutes gazing out into the 
 cool and starry night Not that she could see veiy 
 far. The backs of houses hid half the stars in front 
 and on either hand, making, with the back of this 
 house and its fellows, a kind of square turned inside 
 out Miserable little gardens glimmered through an 
 irregular network of grimy walls, with here and there 
 a lair tree in autumnal tatters; but Rachel looked 
 neither at these nor at the stars that lit them dimly. 
 In a single window of those right opposite a single 
 lamp had burnt all night It was the only earthly 
 light that Rachel could see, the only ->ne of earth or 
 heaven upon which she looked ; and she discovered it 
 with thank ^ving, and tore her eyes away from it with 
 a prayer. 
 
 In time the trunk was packed, and incontinently 
 carried downstairs, by an eflbrt which left Rachel 
 racked in every muscle and swaying giddily. But she 
 could not have made much noise, for still there was no 
 sign from the study. She scarcely paused to breathe. 
 A latchkey closed the door bt hind her very softly ; she 
 was in the crisp clean air at last 
 
THE END OF THEIR UFE 
 
 9 
 
 ^t it WM no hour for finding cabs; it wns the 
 hour of the scavenger and no other being ; and Rachel 
 walked into broad lunligfat before the spied a solitary 
 hansom. It was then she did the strangest thing { 
 instead of driving straight back for her trunk, when 
 near the house she gave the cabman other direction" 
 subsequently stopping him at one with a card in tud 
 window. 
 
 A woman answered the bell with surprising celerity, 
 and a face first startled and \hea incensed at the si^t 
 of Mrs. Minchin. 
 
 ** So yott never came ! "* cried the woman, bitterly. 
 
 ** I was prevented,"" Rachel replied coltUy. « Well ? " 
 
 And the monosyllable was a whisper. 
 
 ** He b still alive,"" said the woman at the dom*. 
 
 ** Is that all ? "" asked Rachel, a catch in her voice. 
 
 •< It is all I"ll say till the doctor has been."" 
 
 '* But he has got through the nigltt,"" sighed Rachel, 
 thankfully. ** I could see the light in his ; « om from 
 hoiu- to hour, even though I could not tame. Did you 
 sit up with him all night long ? "" 
 
 " Eveiy minute of the night,*" said the other, with 
 undisguised severity in her fixed red eyes. "I never 
 left him, and I never closed a lid."" 
 
 " I am so sorry ! "" cried Rachel, too sorry even for 
 renewed indignation at the cause. "But I couldn"t 
 help it,"" she continued, " I really could not We — 1 
 am going abroad — very suddenly. Poor Mr. Severino ! 
 I do wish there was anything I could do I But you 
 
10 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 must get a professional nurse. And when he does 
 recover— for something assures me that he will— -y<Hi 
 
 can tell him " 
 
 Rachel hesitated, tiie red eyes reading hers. 
 « Tell him I hope he will recover altogether," she 
 said at length ; « mind, altogether ! I have gone away 
 for good, tell Mr. Severino ; but, as I wasn't able to 
 do so after all, I would rather you didn't mention that 
 I ever thought of nursing him, or that I called last 
 thing to ask how he was." 
 
 And that was her farewell message to the very young 
 man with whom a hole-and-corner scandal had coupled 
 Rachel Minchin'e name ; it was to be a final utterance 
 in yet another respect, and one of no slight or private 
 significance, as the sequel will show. Within a minute 
 or two of its delivery, Rachel was on her own doontep 
 for the last time, deftly and gently turning the latch- 
 key, while the birds sang to frenzy in a neighbouring 
 garden, and the early sun glanced fierily from the 
 brass knocker and letter-box. Another moment and 
 the door had been flung wide open by a police officer, 
 who seemed to fill the narrow hall, with a comrade 
 behind him and both servants on the stairs. And 
 with little further warning Mrs. Minchin was shown 
 her husband, seated much as she had left him in the 
 professor's c'uair, but with his feet raised stiffly u^ion 
 another, and the hand of death over every inch of bim 
 in the broad north light that filled the room. 
 The young widow stood gazing upon her dead, and 
 
 =3^-, 
 
 i*. ;^. "V' -^^t: 
 
 ■ILS^LW''-^\...V^, 
 
 ^im'lAJ2.:^M 
 
THE END OF THEIR LIFE 
 
 11 
 
 four pain of eyes gazed yet more dosely at her. But 
 there was little to gather from the strained profile 
 with the white cheek and the unyielding lips. Not a 
 cry had left them ; she had but crossed the threshold, 
 and stopped that instant in the middle of the worn 
 carpet, the sharpest of silhouettes against a background 
 of grim tomes. There was no swaying of the lissome 
 figure, no snatching for support, no question spoken or 
 unspoken. In moments of acute surprise the most 
 surprising feature is often the way in which we our- 
 selves receive the shock ; a sudden and complete detach- 
 ment, not the least common of immediate results, 
 makes us sometimes even conscious of our failure to 
 feel as we would or should ; and it was so with Rachel 
 Minchin in the first moments of her tragic freedom. 
 So God had sundered whom God had joined together ! 
 And this was the man whom she had married for love ; 
 and she could look upon his clay unmoved ! Her mind 
 leapt to a minor consideration, that still made her 
 shudder, as eight eyes noted from the door; he must 
 have been dead when she came down and found him 
 seated in shadow ; she had misjudged the dead, if not 
 the living. The pose of the head was unaltered, the 
 chin upon the chest, the mouth closed in death as 
 naturally as in sleep. No wonder his wife had been 
 deceived. And yet there was something unfamiliar, 
 something negligent and noble, and all unlike the 
 living man ; so that Rachel could ahready marvel that 
 she had not at once detected this dignity and this 
 
 ^:t;-^='^^>Ts»^' 
 
1« THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 distinddmi, only too foreign to her husband as she had 
 learnt to knoTr him best, but unattainable in the noUest 
 save by death. And her eyes had risen to the slice of 
 sky in the upper half of the window, and at last the 
 tears were rising in her eyes, wlwn they filled instead 
 with sudden horror and enlightenment 
 
 There was a jagged hole in the pane above the hasp ; 
 an upset of ink on the desk beneath the window ; and 
 the ink was drying with the dead man's blood, in which 
 she now perceived him to be soaked, while the news- 
 paper on the floor beside him was crisp as toast from 
 that which it had hidden when she saw him last 
 
 "Murdered!'* whispered Rachel, breaking her long 
 silence with a gasp. « The work of thieves ! * 
 The policemen exchanged a rapid glance. 
 *♦ Looks like it," said the one who had opened the 
 door, "ladmif* 
 
 There was a superfluous dryness in his tone ; but 
 Rachel no more noticed this than the further craning 
 of heads in the doorway. 
 
 "But can you doubt it?" she cried, pointing from 
 the broken window to the spilled ink. « Did you think 
 that ' 6 had shot himself? " 
 
 And her horror heightened at a thought more ter- 
 rible to her than all the rest But the consteble shook 
 his head. 
 
 " We should have found the pistol^which we can't," 
 said he. *♦ But shot he is, and through the heart" 
 "Then who could it be but thieves?" 
 
THE END OF THEIR LIFE 
 
 18 
 
 ** That's what we all want to know," said the officer ; 
 and still Rachel had no time to think about his tone ; 
 for now she was bending over the body, her white hands 
 denched, and agony enough in her white face. 
 
 "Look! look!" she cried, beckoning to them all. 
 "He was wearing his watch last night; that I can 
 swear ; and it has gone I " 
 
 ** Yon are sure he was wearing it ?" asked the same 
 constable, approaching. 
 
 ** Absolutely certain."* 
 
 "Well, if that's so," said he, "and it can't be found, 
 it will be a point in your favour." 
 
 Rachel sprang upright, her wet eyes wide with pure 
 astonishment. 
 
 « In my favour ? " she cried. " Will you have the 
 goodness to explain yourself?" 
 
 The constables were standing on either side of her 
 now. 
 
 « Well," replied the spokesman of tl^e pair, " I dont 
 like the way that window's broken, for one thing, and 
 if you look at it you'll see what I mean. The broken 
 glass is all outside on the silL But that's not all, r-'.a'am ; 
 and, as you have a cab, we might do worse than drive 
 to the station before more people are about." 
 
pniPiiiP 
 
 CHAPTER n 
 
 THE CASE FOE THE CHOWN 
 
 It was years since there had been a promise of such 
 sensation at the Old Bailey, and never, perhaps, was 
 competition keenfe* for the very few seats available in 
 that antique theatre of justice. Nor, indeed, could the 
 most enterprising of modem managers, with the star 
 of aU the stages at his beck for the shortest of seasons, 
 have done more to spread the lady's fame, or to excite 
 a passionate curiosity in the public mind, than was 
 done for Rachel Minchin by her oflScial enemies of the 
 Metropolitan Police. 
 
 Whether these gentry had then- case even more com- 
 plete than they pretended, when the prisoner was finally 
 committed for trial, or whether the hwt discoveries 
 were reaUy made in the ensuing fortnight, is now of 
 smaU account— though the point provided more than 
 one excuse for acrimony on the part of defending 
 counsel during the hearing of the case. It is certain, 
 however, that shortly after the committal it became 
 known that much new evidence was to be forthcoming 
 at the trial ; that the case against the prisoner would 
 
 i* 
 
 ffii^^wm^:: 
 
THE CASE FOR THE CROWxN 15 
 
 be found even blacker than before ; and that the wit- 
 ne««8 were so many in number, and their testimony 
 so entirely circumstantial, that the proceedings were 
 expected to occupy a week. 
 
 Sure enough, the case was accorded first place in the 
 November Sessions, with a fair start on a Monday 
 morning towards the latter end of the month. In the 
 purlieus of the mean, historic court, it was a morning 
 not to be forgotten, and only to be compared with 
 those which followed throughout the week. The 
 prisoner's sex, her youth, her high bearing, and the 
 peculiar isolation of her position, without a friend to 
 stand by her in her need, all appealed to the popular 
 imagination, and produced a fascination ^^hich was 
 only intensified by the equally general feeling that no 
 one else could have committed the crime. From the 
 judge downward, all connected with the case were 
 pestered for days beforehand with more or less un- 
 warrantable applications for admission. And when the 
 time came, the successful suppliant had to elbow every 
 yard of his way from Newgate Street or Ludgate HiU ; 
 to pass three separate barriers held by a suspicious 
 constabulary ; to obtain the good offices of the Under 
 Sheriff, through those of his liveried lacqueys; and 
 finally to occupy the least space, on the narrowest of 
 seats, in a varnished stall filled with curiously familiar 
 faces, withm a few feet of the heavily-veiled prisoner in 
 the dock, and not many more from the rsd-robed judge 
 upon the bench. 
 
mm 
 
 16 THE SHADOW OP THE ROPE 
 
 The fiwt to take all thii trouble on the Monday 
 morning, and the la«t to escape from the foul air (shot 
 by biting draughts) when the court adjourned, was a 
 white-headed gentleman of striking appearance and 
 sUmina to match; for, undeterred by the experience^ 
 he was in like manner first and hut upon each subse- 
 quent day. Behind him came and went the well-known 
 faces, the authors and the acton with a semi-profes- 
 sional interest in the case; but they were not well- 
 known to the gentieman with the white head. He 
 heard no more than he could help of their constant 
 whisperings, and, if he knew not at whom he more 
 than once had occasion to turn and frown, he certainly 
 did not look the man to care. He had a weU-pre- 
 served reddish face, with a small mouth of exti«ordinary 
 •trength, a canine jaw, and singularly noble for^ead ; 
 but his most obvious distinction was his full head of 
 mowy hair. The only hair upon his face, a pair of 
 bushy eyebrows, was so much darker as to suggest a 
 dye; but the eyes themselves were black as midnight, 
 with a glint of midnight stars, and of such a subtle 
 inscrutability that a certain sweetness of expression 
 came only as the kst surprise in a face full of contrast 
 and contradiction. 
 
 No one in court had ever seen this man before • no 
 one but the Under Sheriff learnt his name during the 
 week; but by the third day his identity was a subject 
 of discussion, both by the professional students of the 
 human countenance, who sat behind him (balked of 
 
THE CASE FOR THE CROWN 17 
 
 their study by the prisoner's veU), and among the various 
 functionaries who had ah«ady found him as free with 
 a sovereign as most gentlemen are with a piece of 
 sUver. So every day he was ushered with ceremony 
 to the same place, at the inner end of the lowest row ; 
 there he would sit watching the prisoner, a trifle nearer 
 her than those beside or behind him ; and only once 
 was his attentive serenity broken for an instant by a 
 change of expression due to any development of the 
 case. 
 
 It was not when the prisoner pleaded clearly through 
 her veil, in the first breathless minutes of all ; it was 
 not a little later, when the urbane counsel for the pro- 
 secution, wagging his pince-nez at the jury, thrilled 
 every other hearer with a meUifluous forecast of the 
 new evidence to be laid before them. The missing 
 watch and chain had been found ; they would presently 
 be produced, and the jury would have an opportunity 
 of examining them, together with a plan of the chimney 
 of the room in which the murder had been committed ; 
 for it was there that they had been discovered upon a 
 second search instituted since the proceedings before 
 the magistrates. The effect of this announcement may 
 be conceived; it was the sensation of the opening 
 day. The whole case of the prosecution rested on the 
 assumption that there had been, on the part of some 
 mmate of the house, who alone (it was held) could 
 have committed the murder, a deliberate attempt to 
 give it the appearance of the work of thieves. Thus 
 
18 
 
 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 1 
 
 far this thewy rested on th« bare facts that the f^ais 
 of the broken window had been found outside, Instead 
 of within ; that no other mark of foot or hand had 
 been nutde or left by the supposititious bui^glars; 
 whereas a brace of revolvers had been discovered in 
 the dead man's bureau, both loaded with such bullets 
 as the one which had caused his death, while one of 
 them had clearly been discharged since the last clean- 
 ing. The discovery of the missing watch and chain, in 
 the very chimney of the same room, was a piece of ideal 
 evidence of the confirmatory kind. But it was not the 
 point that mitd« An impression on the man with the 
 white hair ; it did not increase his attention, for that 
 would have bem impossible; he was periiaps the one 
 spectator who was not, if only for the moment, per- 
 ceptiUy thrilled. 
 
 Hirilling also was the earlier evidence, fiimished by 
 maid-servants and police constables in pairs ; but here 
 there was no surprise. The maids were examined not 
 only as to what they had seen and h««rd on the night 
 of the muidov- and they seemed to have heard every- 
 thing except the fatal shot — ^but upon the previous 
 relations of their master and mistress— of which they 
 showed an equally extensive knowledge. The con- 
 stables were perforce confined to their own discoveries 
 and observations when the maids had called them in. 
 But all four witnesses spoke to the prisoner's behaviour 
 when shown the dead body of her husband, imd there 
 was the utmost unanimity in their sevei tales. The 
 
THE CASE FOR THE CROWN 19 
 
 priwnw h»d exhibited litUe or no lurpriM; it wa* 
 wvenl minutei before she had utterad a syllable; and 
 then her Hnt wordt had been to point out that buraUn 
 alone could have committed the murder. 
 
 In croes-examination the tenior counsel for the 
 defence thus early showed his hand; and it was not 
 a strong one to those who knew the game. A Queen's 
 Counsel, like the leader for the Crown, this was an 
 altogether different type of lawyer; a younger man. 
 with a more engaging manner; a more briUiant man, 
 who sought with doubtful wisdom to blind the jury 
 with his brilliance. HU method was no innovation at 
 the Old BaUey; it was to hold up ereiy witness in 
 turn to the derision and contempt of the jury and 
 the court So both the maids were reduced to tean, 
 and each poUceman cleverly insulted as such. But 
 the testimony of all four remained unshaken; and the 
 judge himself soothed the young women's feelings with 
 a fatherly word, while wigs were shaken in the weU 
 of the court ITwt was no road to the soft side of 
 a decent, conscientious, hard-headed jury, of much the 
 same class as these witnesses themselves; even the 
 actors and authors had a sound opinion on the point 
 without waiting to hear one from the professionai 
 gentlemen in the weU. But the man in front with 
 the very white hair— the man who was always watch- 
 ing the prisoner at the bar— there was about as much 
 expression of opinion upon his firm bare face as might 
 be seen through the sable thickness of her widow's veil 
 
 *STg-^. ^HMi ^-T^^ r". .-■ - '--^ -, .- ■■- 
 
m THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 It WM the tame next day, when, for some five houn 
 out of * powible five and a half, the attention of the 
 court was concentrated upon a point of obviouitly 
 secondary significance. It was suggettted by the defence 
 that the watch and chain foun ' 'p the study chimney 
 were liOt those worn by the de^ jased at the time he 
 met his death. The contention was supported by 
 photographs of Alexander Mincain wearing a watch- 
 chain that might or Liight not be of another pattern 
 altogether ; expert opinions were divided on the point ; 
 and experts in chains as well as in photography were 
 eventuidly called by both sides. Interesting in the be- 
 ginning, the point was raised and raised again, and on 
 subsequent days, until all were weary of the sight of 
 the huge photographic enlargements, which were handed 
 about the court upon each occasion. Even the prisoner 
 would droop in her chair when the ** chain phono- 
 graph ^ was demanded for the twentieth time by her 
 own unflagging counsel; even the judge became all 
 but inattentive on the point, before it was finally 
 dropped on an intimation from the jury that they had 
 made up their minds about the chains; but no trace 
 of boredom had crossed the keen alert face of the 
 unknown gentleman with the snowy hair. 
 
 So the case was fought for Mrs. Minchin, tooth and 
 nail indeed, yet perhaps with more asperity than con- 
 viction, and certainly at times upon points which were 
 hardly worth the fighting. Yet, on the Friday after- 
 noon when her counsel at last played his masterstroke, 
 
 "ir'nttiiirrii ' 
 
THE CASE FOR THE CROWN tl 
 
 and, taking advantage of the then new Act, put the 
 prwoner henelf in the witneM-b<a, it was done with 
 the air of a man who is throwing up his case. The 
 truth could be seen at a glance at the clean-cut, 
 handsome, but too expressive profile of the crushing 
 eroM^xaminer of female witnesses and insolent foe to 
 the police. As it had been possible to predict, from 
 the mere look with which he had risen to his feet, the 
 kind of croes-examination in store for each witness 
 called by the prosecution, so it was obvious now that 
 his own witness had come forward from her own wilful 
 perversity and in direct defiance of his advice. 
 
 It was a dismal afternoon, and the witness-box at 
 the Old Bailey is so situated that evidence is given 
 with the back to the light ; thus, though her heavy 
 teil was rained at kst, and it could be s^n that she 
 was very pale, it was not yet that Rachel Minchin 
 afforded a chance to the lightning artists of the half- 
 penny press, or even to the students of physiognomy 
 behind the man with the white hair. This listener 
 did not lean forward an inch; the questions were 
 answered in so clear a voice as to render it unnecessazy. 
 Yet it was one of these questions, put by her own 
 counsel, which caused the white-headed man to clap a 
 sudden hand to his ear, and to incline that ear as 
 though the answer could not come without some 
 momentary hesitation or some change of tone. Rachel 
 had told sadly but firmly of her final quarrel with her 
 husband, incidentaUy, but without embarrassment, 
 
 :?«»d^HnuM rv4>i! kjn ^k.uzarsnn ,-; 
 
li 
 
 l^ " 
 
 L f 
 
 n 
 
 m THE SHADOW OP THE ROPE 
 
 rtT«iaing Its cttwe. A n«ighbour was d«g«oady ffl, 
 whom the hud been going to nurse that night, when 
 her huibMid met her at the door and forb^e her to 
 
 doiO» .^ 
 
 •♦ Was this neighbour « young man ? 
 
 -Hardly more than a boy," said Rachel, "and as 
 friendless as oursehes." 
 
 *♦ Was your husband jealous of him ? " 
 
 *< I had no idea of it until that night* 
 
 »* Did you find it out then ?* 
 
 "I did, indeed!'' 
 
 " And where had your husband been spending the 
 
 evening?" 
 ••I had no idea of that dther— until he told me he 
 
 had been watching the house— and why !" 
 
 Though the man was dead, she coulu not rid her 
 voice of iU scorn ; and presently, with bowed head, 
 she was repeating hU last words to her. A cold thrill 
 ran through the court 
 
 « And was that the last time you saw him alive? 
 inquired counsel, his face lightening in ready appre- 
 hension of the thriU, and his assurance coming bacli to 
 hun on the spot, as though it were he who had insisted 
 on putting his client in the box. 
 
 But to this there was no immediate answer ; for it 
 was here that the white-haired man raised his hand 
 to his ear; and the event was exactly as he seemed to 
 have anticipated. 
 
 "Was that the last time you saw your husband 
 
THE CASE POR THE CROWN ta 
 
 •Ilw?** ripMt«l Rwher. ooun«el« in the winning 
 Acotnti and with the re«Muring face that he could 
 •Mume without an effort at hit will. 
 
 "It waa," Mid Rachel, after yet another momenVs 
 thought 
 
 It wag then that the white-headed man dropped hit 
 eyes tor once ; and for once the thin haid lines of hit 
 mouth relaxed in a smile that seemed to epitomise 
 all the eril that was in his face, and to give it forth in 
 one sudden sour quintessence. 
 
 ^'j<^ jixunttixr^iif '4u.-R£r-<z.- 
 
 "tLA ';."»:wuv-i»»^«re _« 
 
 'r'<?A:TAri«f»-- 3i"i*._^.' 
 
I 
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 KAMB AND NATURE 
 
 Thb prisoner's evidence concluded with a perfectly 
 simple if somewhat hesitating account of her own 
 doings during the remainder of the night of her 
 husband's murder. That story has already been told 
 in greater detail than could be extracted even by 
 the urbane but deadly cross-examiner who led for 
 the Crown. A change had come over the manner in 
 which Rachel was giving her evidence; it was as 
 though her strength and nerve were failing her 
 together, and henceforth the words had to be put into 
 her mouth. Curiously enough, the change in Mrs. 
 Minchin's demeanour was almost coincident with the 
 single and rather sinister display of feeling upon the 
 part of the white-haired gentleman who had followed 
 every word of the case. On the whole, however, her 
 story bore the stamp of truth ; and a half-apologetic 
 but none the less persistent cross-examination left it 
 scarcely less convincing than before. 
 
 There was one independent witness for the defence, 
 in addition to the experts in photography and chaiiu. 
 
 ^PT.- ,. 
 
 J-W^ 
 
NAME AND NATURE 
 
 25 
 
 The landlady of the house at which Rachel called, 
 in the earlv L,.'>rii'ng, on her way home with the 
 cab, wac a'out five minutes in the witness-box, but 
 in those fie minutes he supplied the defence with 
 one of its niinugczi arguments. It was at least con- 
 ceivable that a woman who had killed her husbcmd 
 might coolly proceed to pack her trunk, and there- 
 after fetch the cab which was to remove herself and 
 her effects from the scene of the tragedy. But was 
 it credible that a woman of so much presence of mind, 
 to whom every minute might make the difference 
 between life and death, would, having found her cab, 
 actually drive out of her way to inquire after a sick 
 friend, or even a dying lover, before going home to 
 pick up her luggage and to ascertain whether her 
 crime was still undetected ? Suppose it were a lover, 
 and inquire one must : would one not still leave those 
 inquiries to the last? And having made them, last 
 or first; and knowing the grim necessity of flight; 
 would one woman go out of her way to tell another 
 that she ** had to go abroad very suddenly, and was 
 going for good ? " 
 
 " Inconceivable ! " cried the prisoner's counsel, dealing 
 with the point ; and the word was much upon his lips 
 during the course of a long and very strenuous speech, 
 in which the case for the Crown was flouted from 
 beginning to end, without, perhaps, enough of con- 
 centration on its more obvious weaknesses, or of 
 respect for its undoubted strength. For the prisoner's 
 
«6 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 proceedings on the night of the murtler, however, 
 supposing she had committed it, and still more on the 
 morning after, it would have been diflBcult to find a 
 better epithet ; the only drawback was that this one 
 had seen service in the cause of almost every murderer 
 who ever went to the gallows— as counsel for the 
 prosecution remarked m his reply, with deadly deference 
 to his learned friend. 
 
 "On the other hand," he went on, wagging his 
 eye-glasses with leisurely deliberation, and picking his 
 words with a care that enhanced their effect, after the 
 unbridled rhetoric of the defence—" on the other hand, 
 gentlemen, if criminals never made mistakes, incon- 
 ceivable or not as we may choose to consider them 
 
 if they never made those mistakes, they would never 
 stand in that dock." 
 
 It was late on the Saturday afternoon when the 
 judge summed up ; but a pleasant surprise was in 
 store for those who felt that his lordship must speak 
 at greater length than either of the counsel between 
 whom he was to hold the scales. The address from 
 the bench was much the shortest of the three. Less 
 exhaustive than the conventional review of a com- 
 plicated case, it was a disquisition of conspicuous 
 deamess and impartiality. Only the salient points 
 were laid before the jury, for the last time, and in a 
 nutsheU, but with hardly a hint of the judge's own 
 opinion upon any one of them. The expression of 
 that opinion was reserved for a point of even greater 
 
NAME AND NATURE 
 
 87 
 
 import than the value of any separate piece of evidence. 
 If, said the judge, the inferences and theory of the 
 prosecution were correct; if this unhappy woman, 
 drivtou to desperation by her husband, and knowing 
 where he kept his pistols, had taken his life with one 
 of them, and afterwards manufactured the traces of a 
 supposititious burglary; then there was no circum- 
 stance connected with the crime which could by any 
 possibility reduce it from murder to manslaughter. 
 The solemnity of this pronouncement was felt in the 
 farthest comer of the crowded court. So they were 
 to find her guilty of wilful murder, or not guilty at 
 all ! Every eye sped involuntarily to the slim black 
 Hgure in the dock; and, under the gaze of all, the 
 figure made the least little bow — a movement so 
 slight a -^ spontaneous as to suggest unconscious- 
 ness, bu. le more eloquent on that account. 
 
 Yet to many in court, more especially to the theatrical 
 folk behind the man with the white hair, the gesture 
 was but one more subtle touch in an exhibition of 
 consummate art and nerve- 
 
 "If they do acquit her," whispered one of these 
 wiseacres to another, "she will make her fortune on 
 the stage ! "" 
 
 Meanwhile the judge was dealing at the last with 
 the prisoner's evidence in her own behalf, and that 
 mercifully enough, though with less reticence than had 
 characterised the earlier portions of his address. He 
 did not think it possible or even desirable to forget 
 
11 
 
 «8 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 that this was the evidence of a woman upon trial for 
 her life. It must not be discredited on that account 
 But it was for the jury to bear in mmd that the story 
 was one which admitted of no corroboration, save in 
 unimportant details. More than that he would not 
 say. It was for them to judge of that story as they 
 had heard it for themselves, on its own merits, but 
 also in relation to the other evidence. If the jury 
 believed it, there was an end of the cac*. If they 
 had any reasonable doubt at all, the prisoner was 
 entitled to the full benefit of that doubt, and they 
 must acquit her. If, on the other hand, the facts 
 taken together before and after the murder brought 
 the jury to the conclusion that it was none other than 
 the prisoner who had committed the murder— though, 
 of course, no one was present to see the act committed 
 —they must, in duty to their oaths, find her guilty. 
 
 During the judge's addi^ess the short November day 
 had turned from afternoon to night, and a gr^at change 
 had come over the aspect of the dim and dingy court. 
 Opaque globes turned into flaring suns ; incandescent 
 burners revealed unsuspected brackets; the place was 
 warmed and lighted for the first time during the week. 
 And the eflTect of the light aod warmth was on all 
 the faces that rose as one while the judge sidled from 
 the bench, and the jury filed out of their box, and the 
 prisoner disappeared down the dock stairs for the last 
 time in ignorance of her fate. Next moment there 
 was the buzz of talk that you expect in a theatre 
 
 mmmmm fmiti t jMiiTdiii i 'M^^Ll 
 
NAME AND NATURE 29 
 
 between the acta, rather than in a court of justice 
 at the solemn crisis of a solemn trial. It was like a 
 class-room with the master called away. Hats were 
 put on again in the bulging galleries; hardly a tongue 
 was still. On the bench a i-ed-robed magnate and 
 another in knee-breeches exchanged views upon the 
 enlarged photographs which had played so prominent 
 a part in the case ; in the well the barristers' wigs 
 nodded or shook over their pink blotters and their quill 
 pens ; gentlemen of the Press sharpened their pencils 
 and indulged in prophecy ; and on their right, between 
 the reporters and the bench, the privileged few, the 
 literary and theatrical elect, discussed the situation 
 with abnormal callousness, masking emotion with a 
 childlike cynicism of sentiment and phrase. 
 
 And for once the stranger in their midst, the man 
 with more outward distinction than any one of them, 
 the unknown man with the snowy hair, could affoni to* 
 listen to what they had to say. 
 
 ** No chance, my dear man. Not an earthly ! " 
 
 " Tm not so sure of that." 
 
 ♦'Will you bet?" 
 
 "No, hang it! What a beast you are ! But I thought 
 the woman was speaking the truth." 
 
 "You heard what the judge said. Where's your 
 corroboration ? No, they ought never to have let her 
 go into the box. I hear she insisted. But it hasn't 
 saved anybody yet." 
 
 " 11» new law ? Then it shows her pluck ! " 
 
to 
 
 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 ** But not necessarily her innocence, dear boj.^ 
 
 Thus one shaven couple. Others had akeady ex- 
 hausted the subject 
 
 " Yes, I finished it down at Westgate last week."* 
 
 "Satisfied?" 
 
 " In a way. It depends so much on the cast.** 
 
 " These actor-managers — what ? " 
 
 " More or less. I must be off. Dining out"* 
 
 " What ! Not going to wait for the end of the fourth 
 act?'' 
 
 "No; I'm late as it is. Ta-te!** 
 
 The white-haired man was amused. He did not 
 turn round, nor, if he had, would he have known the 
 retreating gentleman for the most eminent of living 
 playwrights ; but he knew the reason for his sudden 
 retreat. A hush had fallen, and some one had whis- 
 pered, " They're coming ! " The light-hearted chatter 
 had died away on the word; perhaps it was not so 
 light-hearted af!!;er all. But the alarm was false, there 
 was no sign of the jury, and the talk rose again, as the 
 wind will in a storm. 
 
 "We shall want a glass when this is over," ix^is- 
 pered one of the pair who had argued about the case. 
 
 "And we'll have it, too, old man!" rejoined his 
 friend. 
 
 The white-haired man was grimly interested. So 
 this was the way men talked while waiting to hear 
 a fellow-creature sentenced to death! It was worth 
 knowing. And this was what the newspaper men 
 
 » 
 
 m 
 
 lyj ^l fi Mmm 
 
 MM 
 
NAME AND NATURE 
 
 81 
 
 would call a low buzz— an expectant hush— this ani- 
 mated babble ! Yet the air was charged with emotion, 
 suppressed perhaps, but none the less distinguishuble 
 in every voice. Within earshot a pewpiring young 
 pressman was informing his friends that to come there 
 comfortably you should commit the murder yourself, 
 then they gave you the Royal Box ; but his teeth could 
 be heard chattering through the feeble felicity. The 
 white-headed listener curled a contemptuous nostril. 
 They could joke, and yet they could feel ! He himself 
 betrayed neither weakness, but sat waiting patiently 
 and idly listening, with the same grim jaw and the 
 same inscrutable eye with which he had watched the 
 prisoner and the jury alternately throughout the week. 
 And when the latter at last returned, and then the 
 former, it was the same subtle stare that he again bent 
 upon them both in turn. 
 
 The jury had been absent but forty minutes after 
 all; and their expedition seemed as ill an omen as 
 then: nervous and responsible faces. There was a 
 moments hush, another moment of prophetic murmuis, 
 and then a stillness worthy of its subsequent descrip- 
 tion in every newspaper. The prisoner was standing 
 in the front of the dock, a female warder upon either 
 hand. The lightning pencil of the new journalist had 
 its will of her at last For Mrs. Minchin had dispensed 
 not only with the chair which she had occupied all 
 the week, but also with the heavy veil which she had 
 but partially lifted during her brief sojourn in the 
 
8t 
 
 THE SHADOW OF THE HOPE 
 
 witneas-box, and never OLce in the dock. The yd' 
 was now flung back over the widow's bonnet, peaking 
 and falling like a sable cowl, against which the un- 
 earthly pallor of her face was whiter far than that of 
 the merely dead, just as mere death was the least part 
 of the fate confronting her. Yet she had raised her 
 veil to look it fairly in the face, and the packed 
 assembly marvelled as it gazed. 
 
 Was that the face that had been hidden from them 
 all these days? It was not what they had pictured 
 beneath the proud, defiant carriage of its concealing 
 veil Was that the face of a determined murderess ? 
 
 Beautiful it was not as they saw it then, but the 
 elemoits of beauty lay unmistakable beneath a white 
 mist of horror and of pain, as a lovely landscape is still 
 lovely at its worst. The face was a thin but perfect 
 oval, lengthened a little by depth of chin and height 
 of forehead, as now also by unnatural emaciation and 
 distress. The mouth was at once bloodless, sweet, and 
 firm ; the eyes of a warm and lustrous brown, brilliant, 
 eloquent, brave — and hopeless ! 
 
 Yes, she had no hope herself! It was plain enough 
 at the first glimpse of the deadly white, uncovered 
 face, in the cruel glare of gas. But it became plainer 
 still as, with sad, unflinching eyes, she watched and 
 listened while, for the last time, the jurymen answered 
 to their names. 
 
 Now they were done. The foreman shifted nervously 
 in his place. In the overstrain of the last dread pause, 
 
NAME AND NATUBE 80 
 
 the crowded court felt hotter and lighter than ever. 
 It seemed to unite the glare of a gin palace with the 
 temperature of a Turkish bath. 
 
 "Gentlemen, are you agreed upon your verdict?** 
 
 « We ara." 
 
 "Do you find the prisoner guilty or not guilty ?** 
 
 "Not guilty.*' 
 
 There was a simultaneous gasp Ax>m a hundred 
 throats— a distinct cry fix)m some. Then the Clerk 
 of Arraigns was seen to be leaning forward, a hand 
 to his ear, for the foreman's voice had broken with 
 excitement And every soul in court leant forward 
 too. 
 
 But this time his feelings had a different efiect upon 
 the excited foreman. 
 
 " Not guilty I " he almost bawled. 
 
 Dead silence this time, while the dock ticked 
 thrice. 
 
 " And tl \t is the verdict of you all ? ** 
 
 " Of every one of us ! ** 
 
 The judge leant back in his place, his eyes upon the 
 desk before him, without a movement or a gesture to 
 strike the personal note which had been suppressed 
 with such admirable impartiality throughout the trial 
 But it was several moments before his eyes were lifted 
 with his voice. 
 
 "let her be discharged," was all he said even thm ; 
 but he would seem to have said it at once gruffly, 
 angrily, thankfully, disgustedly, with emotira, and 
 
 / 
 
 / 
 
 ■'X 
 
I 
 
 •I THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 without any emotion at all. You read the papers, and 
 you take your choice. 
 
 So Rachel Minchin was supported from the court, 
 before the round eyes of a hundred or two of her 
 fellow-creatures, hi the pifable %tate of one who has 
 been condemned to die, and not set free to lite. It 
 was as though she still misunderstood a verdict which 
 had filled most faces with incredulity, but none with 
 an astonishment to equal her own. Her white face 
 had leapt alight, but not with gladness. The pent-up 
 emotion of the week had broken forth in an agony 
 of tears ; and so they half led. half carried her from 
 the court. She had entered it for the last time with 
 coa ,vie enough ; but it was the wrong kind cf courage ; 
 ana, for the one supreme moment, sentence of life was 
 harder to bear than sentence of death. 
 
 In a few minutes the court was empty—* singular 
 little theatre of pale varnish and towdry hangings, 
 still rather snug and homely in the heat and light of 
 its obsolete gas, and with as little to remind one of the 
 play as any other theatre when the curtain is iown 
 and the house empty. But there was clamour in the 
 corridors, and hooting ahready in the street Nor was 
 the house really empty after all. One white-haired 
 gentleman had not left his place when an attendant 
 returned to put out the lights. The attendant pointed 
 him out to a comtoble at the door; both watched 
 him a few moments. Then the attendant stepped 
 down and touched him on the shoulder. 
 
NAME AND NATURE 
 
 85 
 
 The gentleman tunieJ slowly without a start. ** Ah, 
 youVe the man I «aiit to see," laid he. "Waa that 
 the Chief Warder in the dock ? "" 
 
 ** Him with the beard," said the attendant, nodding. 
 
 " Well, give him this, and give it him quick. Til 
 wait up there till he can see me." 
 
 And he pressed his card into the attendant's palm, 
 with a couple of sovereigns underneath. 
 
 "Wants to see the Chief Warder," explained the 
 attendant to the constable at the door. 
 
 " He's been here all the week," mused the constable 
 aloud. " I wonder who he is ?" 
 
 "Name of Steel," whispered the other, consulting 
 the card, as the gentleman advanced up the steps 
 towards them, the gaslight gleaming in his silver hair, 
 and throwing his firm features into strong relief. 
 
 *' And not a bad name for him," said the constable 
 at the door. 
 
CHAPl-ER IV 
 
 THE MAN IN THE TEAIN 
 
 Rachel fought her weakneM with closed eyea, and 
 was complete mistress of herself when those about her 
 thought that consciousness alone was returning. She 
 recognised the chamber at a glance ; it was the one in 
 which generations of metropolitan malefactors, and a 
 few innocent persons like herself, had waited for the 
 verdict of life or death. For her it was life, life, life ! 
 And she wondered whether any other of the few had 
 ever come back to life with so little joy. 
 
 The fiemale warders were supporting her in a chair ; 
 the prison doctor stood over her with a medicine-glass. 
 
 « Drink this," said he, kindly. 
 
 " But I have been conscious all the time." 
 
 " Never mind. You need it." 
 
 And Rachel took the restorative without moi« 
 words. 
 
 It did its work. The colour came back to her face. 
 The blood ran hot in her veins. In a minute she was 
 standing up without assistance. 
 
 "And now," said Rachel, "I shall not trespass 
 
THE MAN IN THE TRAIN 
 
 m 
 
 ftirth«r on your kindness, and I am sure that you will 
 not with to detain me.^ 
 
 « We cannot," said the doctor, with a broad smile 
 and a bow ; "you are as free as air, and will perhaps 
 allow me to be the first to congratulate you. At the 
 same time, my dear madam, and quite apart from your 
 condition— which is wonderful to me after what youVe 
 been through— at the same time, and even with your 
 fortitude, I think it would be advisable to— to wait a 
 little while.** 
 
 The doctor raised his eyes, and all at once Rachel 
 heard. Overhead— outside — in the world — there was 
 the brutal hooting of a thoughtless moU 
 **So thatisfor me!" 
 Rachel set her teeth. 
 
 **0n the contrary," said the kindly doctor, « it may 
 be for the witnesses; but crowds are fickle things; 
 and I should strongly urge you not to court a demon* 
 stration of one sort or the otlier. You are best where 
 you are for the time being, or at all events some- 
 where within the precincts. And meanwhile your 
 solicitor is waiting to add his congratulations to 
 mine." 
 
 **Is he, indeed !" cried Rachel, in a voice as hard as 
 her eye. 
 
 " Why, to be sure," rejoined the other, taken some- 
 what aback. ** There must be many matters for dis- 
 cussion between you, and he at least seems very 
 anxious to discuss them. In fact, I may say that he 
 
 nmR 
 
88 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 if only awaiting my penni«ion for an immediata 
 interview.*' 
 
 "Then let him await mine!** exclaimed Rachel, in 
 a vindictive voice for which she was apologising in 
 the next breath. "I owe you much," she added, «*if 
 only for your kindness and sympathy during these 
 few minutes. But to him I o#e nothing that I can- 
 not pay in cash. He tried to keep me from telling 
 my own story in the box— they all did— but he was 
 the worst of all So I certainly do not owe him my 
 life. He came to me and he said what he liked; 
 he may h«re forgotten what he said, but 1 never 
 shaU.** 
 
 " He would be the first to admit his error now." 
 
 *< Perhaps; but he believed me guilty to the very 
 end ; and I utterly refuse to see him to-night" 
 
 "Then I shall tell him so." 
 
 And the good doctor disappeared for the nonce, but 
 was back in a couple of minutes, full of the lawyer's 
 expostulations. What did Mrs. Minchin intend to do? 
 Where did she propose to go ? There were a hundred 
 matters for explanation and arrangement Her solicitw 
 said she had no friends, and seemed himself most 
 anxious to act in that capacity. Rachel's lips curled 
 at the thought 
 
 "At least," said she, "I have the friends who 
 guaranteed his bill, if that has anything to say to 
 his anxiety ! But what I mean to do, and where I 
 may go, are entirely my own aflair. And as for the 
 
THE MAN IN THE TRAIN « 
 
 hmtdnd matters he mentions, he might have spoken 
 of them during the week. Perhaps he thought it 
 wouW be waste of breath, but I should have appre- 
 ciated the risk.^ 
 
 So her solicitor was beaten off, with all the spirit 
 which was one of HachePs qualities, but also with the 
 rashness which was that quality's defect. The man 
 was indeed no ornament to his profession, but a 
 police-court practitioner of the pushing order, who 
 had secured the case for notoriety and nothing dse. 
 Bachel's soul sickened when she thought of her intei^ 
 views, and especially her most recent interviews, with 
 one whom die had never seen before her trouble, and 
 whom she devoutly hoped never to see again. 8he 
 did not perceive that the time had come when the 
 lawyer mig» have been really useful to her. Yet 
 his messages left her more alive to the difficulties 
 that lay before her as a free woman, and to the 
 immediate necessity of acting for herself once more. 
 
 After all there had been a silver lining to the cloud 
 under which she had lain so long. Others had acted 
 for her. It had been a rest But, conscious of her 
 innocence, and serene in that consciousness, she had 
 prepared herself rather for another life than for a new 
 lease of this one; and, while seeking to steel her soul 
 to the awful sequel of a conviction, in the other 
 direction she had seldom looked beyond the con- 
 summate incident of an acquittal. life seems a 
 r»yal road when it is death that stares one hi the 
 
 sags 
 

 40 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 faoe; bat already Rachel aaw the hills and the pit- 
 falls ; for indeed they began under her nose. 
 
 She had no plans, nor a single soul to help h^ to 
 make any. In aU the world she had no real friend. 
 And yet, with the very independence to which this 
 isolation was largely due, she must pick and choose, 
 and reject, in the hour when any friend would have 
 been betto* than none ! 
 
 In the first ten minutes of the new life which 
 Rachel Mmchin began with her acquittal, she had 
 refused to see her own soHcitor, and an unknown 
 genUeman whose card was brought to her by the 
 Chief Warder, himself. With the carf was a message 
 which might have inspired confidence, and the same 
 might be said of the address. But it was enough for 
 TUchel that she knew no one of the name. The Chief 
 Warder, one of the kindliest mortals, displayed no 
 little irritation under her repeated refusals; but it 
 was the agent, and not the principal, who was so 
 importunate; and the message was not repeated once 
 the former could be induced to bear Mrs. Minchin's 
 answer. The Chief Warder did indeed return, but it 
 was not to make any further reference to the 
 mysterious Mr. Steel who had craved an interview 
 with Mrs. Minchin. And now the good feUow was 
 all smiles. 
 
 "Feeling more yourself?" said he; and, when 
 Rachel said she was, he asked her to listen now; 
 and there was nothing to Usten to. "The coast's as 
 
THE MAN IN THE TRAIN 
 
 41 
 
 dear as the Criminal Ck>urt," explained this pleasant 
 ofBciaL ^A closed cab did it, with an officer on thi 
 box ; and 111 call you another as soon as you like." 
 
 Rachel rose at once. 
 
 " It was kind of you to let me stay so long," she 
 said. <*But I don^t think I will take a cab, thank 
 you, if there^s an underground station within reach, 
 and you will kindly tell me the way." 
 
 **There*s Blackfriars Bridge within five minutes. 
 But you will have more than you can carry——- " 
 
 **1 have nothing worth taking away with me," said 
 Radiel, ** except the things I stand up in; but you 
 may give what I leave to any poor ./oman who cares to 
 have them. And I hope you will accept this trifle for 
 yooiself, with my deep gratitude for all your kindness." 
 
 Indeed, the man had been kind, and his kindness 
 would have continued to the last had the trial ended 
 difiJsrently. Nevertheless, Rachel''s trifle was a piece 
 of gold, and one of her last. Nor was this pure gme- 
 ronty. There was an untold joy in being able to 
 give again. It was the first real taste of freedom; 
 and in another minute Rachel was firee. 
 
 Oh, but what a miracle to hear her feet on the 
 now deserted pavement, to see her breath in the raw 
 November night, and the lights of Ludgate Hill 
 beycmd ! Rachel raised her veil to see them better. 
 Who would look for her afoot so near the scene of 
 her late ordeal ? And what did it matter who saw 
 ha and who knew her now? She was innocent; sha 
 
L 
 
 « THE SHADOW OP THE HOPE 
 01^ to rub Aouldm with the world i«MB I 
 
 ^td town jrfte 11, but th. h««,„ ,„ ,^i^ 
 «dU» mpute p^. She put do™ ha Jji 
 tamd „to U» rt««„ with.„t aitchiug . .u.piciou. 
 ^ Why Aould th^ ».p«t h«? AudLjm 
 wh«t did It matt« if thej did ? 
 
 n'M^"u."'*'''' ™^ »'»«*«• I Acquittd 
 
 oMriMinchin! Tri«I «n' venUc'l" 
 
 a«hd «tudly bought o„ h««lf , .^ „„ri^ 
 tte «pm.on of the m« iu the rtreet without . p«,. 
 So d.. ™ght thiuk h«»lf luck, ! But Ae di<u£' 
 did ! to the ,e«^on th.t h«J com. upon her with 
 U» fert mouthful of raw «r, i„ the inL«L. rf 
 h«d.ug the outer world i««u, d,e thought h«*lf 
 ie luckKrt wom« ia Lo^<^ „d «veUed nithe, 
 
 „!?T™' '" "" '^ ««»ider.tion, which h«l 
 .pHled her u. the preciuct. of th. court Ifo, 
 good. .ft«r 11. to be independent « wdl „ ft^ 
 
 ^^i^- '"" "«'«"'«•»' "»o.»nt women 
 «d Uw-.b,du,g men, <«,ce more one of th«n«W 
 
 «d not even . megnet for morbid curiodtv! iC 
 
 would come <K>on enoughs the p««nt wm 11 the 
 
 immedute (uture, even the Uek of definite pUn* 
 had . glamour of their own in tym that we«j^ 
 
THE MAN IN THE TRAIN 48 
 
 to have their fiU of rtreet-lamp. and ahop-window. 
 and omnibuses and hansom cabs. 
 
 The poli^man under the bridge was a Joy in him- 
 mM; he refreshed Rachel's memory as to the way, 
 without giving her an unnecessary look ; and he 
 odled her "madam" into the bai^b j After all, 
 
 the Old BaUey, nor one in many thousands of the 
 population who had gained admission to the court 
 
 Yet if Rachel had relieved the tedium of her trial 
 by using her eyes a little more; if, for example, Ae 
 had condescended to look twice at the handful of 
 mere spectators beyond the reporters on her right- 
 she could scareely have failed to recognise the ^J 
 looking elderly man who was at her heels when she 
 took her ticket at BlackfriarP Bridge. His white hair 
 was covered by his hat, but the face itself was not 
 one to be forgotten, with its fresh colour, its smaU 
 gnm mouth, and the deep-set glitter beneath the 
 bushy eyebrows. Rachel, however, neither recognised 
 nor looked again. 
 
 In a few minutes she had a better chance, when, 
 having entered an empty compartment in the first 
 class, she was joined by this gentleman as the train 
 began to move. 
 
 Rachel hid herself behbd the newspaper which she 
 had bought, not that she had looked twice at her com- 
 paniwi, but because at such dose quartere, and in the 
 comparatively fierce bght of the firrt-dass compartmeni. 
 
44 THE SHADOW OP THE ROPE 
 
 »he wu terriUj aftmid Uiat he might look onot too 
 often at her. But this fear pa««d from her fai tbtt 
 matchlen fascination of reading and re-i«ading five 
 words in the stop-press column :— «*MINCHIN CASE 
 —Verdict, Not guilty." 
 
 Not guilty! Not guilty! And to see it in print • 
 Her eyes filled at the sight, and she dried them to 
 gloat again. There were columns and columns about 
 the case, embellished with not unskilful sketches of 
 counsel addressing the jury, and of the judge in the 
 act of summing up. But Rachel had listened to eveiy 
 word from all three; and the professional report was 
 less foil and less accurate than the one which she 
 
 carried in her brain and would cany to her gmve. Not 
 that the speeches mattered now. It was no speech 
 that had saved her; it was her own stoiy, from her 
 own lips, that the lawyers would have closed ! Rachel 
 forgave them now ; she was ahnost grateful to them 
 for having left it to her to save herself in spite of them 
 all : sc should her perfect innocence be impressed 
 upon the whole country as on those twelve £ur mindi. 
 And once more she pored upon the huiriedly-added 
 and ill-printed line which gave their verdict to the 
 world, while the train stopped and started, only to stop 
 and start again. 
 
 « And what do you think of it, madam ? " 
 The voice came from the opposite comer of the com- 
 partment, and Rachel knew it for that of the genUeman 
 who had jumped in at the last moment at Blackfrian 
 
THE MAN IN THE TRAIN 40 
 
 Bridge It was Charing Crow that they wen leaving 
 DOW, and the door had not opened at that sUtion or 
 the lart. Rachel sat breathless behind her evening 
 ptper. Not to answer might be to fasten sospicion 
 upon her widow's weeds ; and, for all her right to look 
 mankind in the face, she shrank instinctively from 
 immediate recognition. Then in a clap came the 
 tempUtion to discuss her own case with the owner 
 of a voice at once confident and courUy, and subtiy 
 reminiscent of her native colony, where it is no affront 
 for stxaoger to speak to stranger without introduction 
 oreixuse. 
 
 Rachel's hesiUtion lasted perhaps a couple of seconds, 
 and then her paper lay across her lap. 
 
 «0f what ?" she asked, witii some presence of mmd, 
 for she had never an instant's doubt that tiie question 
 referred to the topic of the hour. 
 
 "We were reading tiie same paper," repUed the 
 questioner, witii perfect courtesy ; "it only struck me 
 tiiat we might botij be reading ti,e same tiling, and 
 feeling equaUy amazed at the verdict." 
 
 "You mean in the Minchin case," said Rachel 
 iteadily, and without the least interrogation in her 
 tone. « Yes, I was reading it, as I suppose everybody 
 M. But I disagree witii you about the verdict" 
 
 The young widow's manner was as downright as 
 her words. There was a sudden raising of the bushy 
 qreteows in tiie opposite comer, a brief opening of tii 
 black eyes underneath. 
 
49 THE SHADOW OF THE BOFE 
 
 *<Ftodon me," nid the gentlemen, breeking i^to 
 « imile; ^I waa not aware that I had oiprcmd an 
 opinion on that poini^ 
 **I understood you were amaied,** laid Rachel, dryly. 
 <*And are not you?"" cried the other point-blank. 
 ** Do you mean to tell me that you were prepared for 
 an acquittal?^ 
 
 «1 was prepared for anything,** replied Rachel, 
 returning a peculiarly penetrating stare with one at 
 least as steady, and yet holding her breath for very 
 fear lest this stranger had found her out, until hit next 
 words allayed the suspicion. 
 ** Madam, have you followed the case ? ** 
 ** Indeed I have,*' sighed honest Rachel 
 ''And as a woman you believe this woman inno- 
 cent?** 
 «Ido.** 
 
 It was hard enough to say no more than that; 
 but Rachel was very fresh from her great ksson in 
 self-ctmtrd. 
 
 «* It is easy to see that you do not,** she merely 
 permitted hersdf to add. 
 
 «* On the oootrary," said he, with great pradrion ; 
 " on the contrary, my dear madam, I believe this poor 
 lady to be as innocent as yourself.** 
 
 Again their eyes were locked ; again Rachel drew 
 the only inference from so pmnted a jnonounoraient, 
 and yet again was the iminessi<ni shaken fay her onn* 
 pani<ni's next words. 
 
THE MAN IN THE TEAIN *y 
 
 "But I nkHy have no right to «n opinion.'* said hej 
 '*thm, unlike you, I cannot daim to hare read the 
 otM. Nor is that the interesting thing now." The 
 sUtioni had come and gone, until now they were at 
 Yictflria. The speaker looked out of the window until 
 they were off again, and off by themselves as before, 
 "l^e interesting thing, to me, is not what this poor 
 lady has or has not done, but what on earth she is 
 gdi^ to do now 1 " 
 
 He looked at her again, and now Rachel was sure. 
 But there was a kindness in his look that did away 
 both with resentment and r^ret. 
 
 "They say she has MteraUy no friends in England," 
 he went on, with unconcealed concern. "That is in- 
 credible; and yet, if there be any truth in it, what a 
 terrible position I I fear that everybody wiU not share 
 your conviction, and, I may add, my own. If one can 
 judge thus early, by what one has heard and seem for 
 oneself, this verdict is a personal disi ppointinent to 
 the always bloodthirsty man in the stn«t. Then God 
 help the poor lady if he spots her! C only hope she 
 will not give him a chance."" 
 
 And now Bachel not only knew that he knew, but 
 that he wished to apprise her of his knowledge wi4ouk 
 confessing it in so many words. So he would spare her 
 that embarrassment, and would help her if he could, 
 this utter stranger! Yet she saw it in his fece, sh^ 
 heard it in hid voice; and becoming gradually aUve 
 to his will to help, as she instinctively was to hit 
 
48 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 power,ihe had herself the will to oonsult onewhoM good 
 intention «ad better tact were alike obvious. Myiteiy 
 th«« was in her meeting with this man ; something 
 told her that it was no accident on his side ; she began 
 to wonder whethor she had not seen him before ; and 
 while she wmidered he came and sat opposite to her, 
 and went on speaking in a lower voice, his dark eyes 
 fixed tm hers. 
 
 **If Mrs. Miochin wants a friend— and to-night I 
 think she must— if ever she did or wiUl Well, if 
 she does, I for one would be her friend — if she would 
 trust me ! 
 
 Tlie last vrotds were the lowest of all ; and in the 
 tone of them there was a timbre which thrilled Bachd 
 as the dark eyes fascinated her. She began to feel a 
 strange repugnance — a yet more strange attraction. 
 But to the latter her independence gave instant battle 
 — a battle the easier to fight since the next ^^aticm was 
 Radiel*8 destination. 
 
 **Do you think she would trust me'" he almost 
 whispered, leaning towards her. <* As a woman— don^ 
 you think she might?" 
 
 As Radiel hesitated the carriages b^an to groan 
 beneath the brake ; and her hesitation was at an end. 
 So also was bar limited capacity for pretence. She 
 sat mor upright in her comer, her shoulders fbll in 
 anf^es, and beneath the veil, which she had raised to 
 lead her paper, her eyes carried the war of interro- 
 gation into the enemy''s country. 
 
THE MAN IN THE TOAIM 
 
 iT«w jron at the trial ? * 
 ** From fint to l««t ! " 
 
 1*6 pwue that followed wu Wl. w^l ,. 
 
 ^^ otSlo^ Squa« rtati^ "^ *~''" ^ *^ 
 
 Y«i know „»," ^d Hachel hun^edlj; «i ..,, 
 
 f«» that for lome time. M«* t l A *^* 
 
 Mr. Steel?- ^ ' «k if jou ^w 
 
 "lam." 
 
 ** ITie Mr. Steel who Miifm-1.1 ^ -. 
 
 Steel bowed. »«"» c««l after the trial ?- 
 
 •-Afaperibctatianger?" 
 
 B^el ignored the ndatire dauM. 
 -»M because I would ««* 
 
 ^,. ~ "W* and forced yoomlf opoo 
 
 ■«« kindly ««, „r^„d tM rl"",,'**' ^»" 
 itreetr •'^ ^° **e man in the 
 
•• THE SHADOW OF THE JIOPE 
 "Btttw give him ft teH" mid Stod, ooldly tnoiuii 
 
 "I diookl pnfer ioT »joto«i lUchd, gtttbg out; 
 and then wu no Uttla sting in the intonation of tht 
 t«b; but Mr. StMi wu ieft nniling and nodding very 
 confidtntlj to himwUl 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 »^ •ctuiJ pWrfth^ , "PP"*"'"* 't. during 
 •»J It w« „ wi/^f'^ -'«. tWr ton, .««. 
 
 But now all Bach^lV ♦!.« lx 
 W, md of her own .tb*.,^ . . iKhaviout tow«|. 
 
 •« « -id. « z ^'tttrtf°- j*^ ••- 
 
M THE SHADOW OP THE HOPE 
 
 with ft tithe of her personal attzactioiis ; and yet npoQ 
 reflection she could conceive but one explanation of 
 such conduct in an elderly man. 
 
 "There is no fool like an old fool,** quoted Bacfad to 
 herself; and it was remarkable that until thic moment 
 she had never thou^^t of Mr. Steel as either eklerly or 
 old. His eyes were young; his voice was young; she 
 oouM hear him and see him still, so the strong impres- 
 don was not aU on one side. No more, it would seem, 
 was tiie fiudnation. Hachel, indeed, owned to no such 
 feeUng, even in her inmost heart. But she did begin 
 to blame hen«lf, ahke for her reception of advances 
 which might well have been dictated by mere eccentric 
 benevolence, and for her readiness now to put another 
 construction upon them. And all this time she was 
 threading tiie streets of Chelsea at a pace suggestive of 
 a destination and a purpose, while in her mind she did 
 nothing but look back. 
 
 Impulsive by lAture, HacUl had also the oounge 
 of each impulse whUe it lasted; on the other hand, if 
 quidt to act, she was only too ready to regret like 
 many another whose self-reliance is laigely on the 
 sur&oe, an achievement of the will and not the gift of 
 a temperament, she usually paid for a display of ^arit 
 with the most dispiriting reaction ; and this was pre- 
 dsdy the case in point Rachd was ashamed alike of 
 her nid«>ness and her vanity ; the latter she traced to 
 its source. It was inspired by vague memories of other 
 women who had been through the same oideal as 
 
™E MAN IN THE BTREET « 
 
 1.-- received letters of which tli- u— * 
 
 I- «at her Z l^^^*^"' ""^ «««' the trul 
 
 Bot • more poignun reminder of ba m.»i_i ■•«. 
 w» now to rto« for IUch.1 Miod.^. IfcTS'^ ** 
 to Chelsea because if w.. *». i °^ *»«*»• 
 
 ?"' '" ." «» -J»y of plenty „d exta^-L^ 
 li«d «.t np«.d m towo « the two wive. JTJ^ 
 
W THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 wished. It was Mrs. Carrington, however, who had 
 found the Minchins their fiimiahed house, while her 
 husband certainly interested himself in Rachel's defence. 
 Carrington was a barrister, who never himself touched 
 criminal work, but he had spoken to a Mead who 
 did, to wit the brilliant terror of female witnesses, and 
 caustic critic of the police, to whom Radiel owed eo 
 
 little. But to Carrington himself she owed mudi 
 
 more indeed than she cared to calculate— for he was 
 not a man whom she liked. She wished to thank 
 him for his kin4oess, to give certain undertakings and 
 to ask his advice, but it was Mrs. Carrington whom 
 she really hoped to see. There was a godd heart, or 
 Rachel was much mistaken. They would have sera 
 more of each other if Mrs. Carrington had had her 
 way. Rachel remembered her cm the occasion of the 
 solitaiy visit she had received at Holloway— for Mia. 
 Carrington had been the visitor. 
 
 «*Don^ tell Jim," she had said, ** when you get off 
 and come to see us." 
 
 Ami she had kissed her captive sister in « way 
 that made poor Rachel sometimes think she had • 
 friend in England after all ; but that was before her 
 committal; and thoeafter fix>m that quartor not a 
 word. It was not Mrs. Cairington whom Rachel 
 blamed, however, and ihose last words of hen implied 
 an invitation which had never been withdrawn. But 
 invitation or no invitation, friend or no friend, Mn. 
 Carrington she would have to see. And even he would 
 
THE MAN IN THE STREET 55 
 
 he diilerent now that he knew she was innocent; and 
 
 if It wa. easy to see what he had believed of her before, 
 weU, so much the more credit to him for what he had 
 done. 
 
 So Rachel had decided before quitting the precincts 
 of the Old Bailey ; but her subsequent experiences in 
 strtet and train so absorbed her that she was fuU of 
 the interview that was over when she ought to have 
 been preparing for the one still before her. And, in 
 her absence of mind, the force of habit had Uken 
 advantage of her; instead of going on to Tite Street, 
 she tnmed too soon, and turned again, and was now 
 apptlW to find herself in the very street in which her 
 husband had met his death. 
 
 The littie street was as quiet as ever ; Rachel stood 
 quite still, and for the moment she was the only person 
 in it She stole op to the house. The blinds wen 
 down, and it was in darkness, otherwise all was as 
 she remembered it only too well. Her breath came 
 quickly. It was a strange trick her feet had pkyed 
 her, bringmg her here against her will ! Yet she had 
 thought of coming as a last resort. The furnished 
 house should be hers for some months yet ; it had been 
 taken for six months from July, and this was only the 
 end of November. At the wont-if no one would 
 take Iwrm 
 
 She shuddered at the unfinished thou^t; and yet 
 there was something in it that appealed to B heL 
 To go back there, if only for the shortest time-to 
 
56 
 
 THE SHADOW OP THE HOPE 
 
 beftlf *T'^^' i" >« Pockrt, there M 
 taoi more ki^ tlun one, end tli.t whieh lad been ta 
 
 B«M crept np the rtep* If Jk du,uM be «en • 
 
 »W* «d on th.t the key .JTtted ^ ^^ 
 op»rf wrthont ««,the, nu».enf. hedtrtion. iX 
 «^ U» door d.„t noWl, behind her. SZ 
 ?««;^rt.p»ng in torn npon the floor. It«,U^ 
 b«^«d „ B«h., fcit her «, to the :^ 
 ^^ I»rond tt. dining-room d«,r. her fi^ 
 >»i»d the pictun on the wdlfc Thii D~™,»?ir 
 
 ^1^^ "»•«"». not „ n.»* „ . ^: 
 
 »d« the rt«», nor . blind to the wind., rt ttd, 
 
 Tbe fiimitoie removed whik the uec of It h.l«»j 
 
 -^^toher, H«,th.,m«fc„j::^tj:s 
 
THE MAN IN THE STREET m 
 
 " «n that? BacheFs blood came .fcnd^kf ft« 
 
 to the boil . *i.i. "traight from aero 
 
 !^r^ ^^ . "«■ **^ ^«" »° it» rfie had left 
 everything behind her. If thev l,.^ k_ 
 fK«,. *k: ^ «• M tney had been remored. 
 
 then th« outrage waa little short of felonv ^Til 
 
 in tkTlT^^u '' "^ "1*°^ *» I* terrified 
 
 Tk: ij ° P"*** "»* very week 
 
 ■»JW«r, which .eemed to hare contained brLl 
 
 rf the tnd. They might have w«ted till her S 
 ™ ««, they d..„ld «jrer fo, their impaZ^ 
 Z, ^"!? .. *• "W wa. Hachel that he,^™ 
 n»m wonaded h«- >,ith no memorie. of the part. K 
 
 ^itn^dirtL-^ri*''''''"'"'-^ 
 
 f™-.* iT ''°"" ■" ">• l»te professor! Bachel 
 
 ««^ her grudge ^t hi. widow, d.e pdl«l th. 
 
 *». to the s»aU hoars of that fiuJ mominft brt thh 
 ^.rjtl'T'^"^ Sh.h«i,„^on5» 
 
58 THE SHADOW OF THE ROFB 
 
 have expUuned, but it existed in her mind ; the muft 
 see the room again. And the fint thing the mw was 
 that the window was bidcen still. 
 
 Radkd looked at it more closely than she had done 
 on the morning when she had given her incriminating 
 opmimi to the police, and the longer she looked the 
 less reason did she see to alter that opinion. The 
 broken glass might have been placed upon the sill fai 
 order to promote the very theory which had been so 
 gullibly adopted by the police, and the watch and chain 
 hidden in the chimney for the same purpose. They 
 mi|^t have hanged the man who kept them; and 
 surely this was not the first thief who had slunk away 
 empty-huided after the committal of a crime infinitely 
 greater than the one contemplated. 
 
 Radid had never wavered in these ideas, but neither 
 
 had she dwelt on them to any extent, and now they 
 
 came one instant only to go the next Her husband 
 
 was dead—that was once more the paramount thou^t 
 
 — and she his widow had been acquitted on a diarge 6t 
 
 murdering him. But for the moment she was thmking 
 
 only of him, and her eyes hung over the spot whoe she 
 
 had seen him sitting dead— once without dreaming it— 
 
 and soon they filled. Perhaps she was remembering all 
 
 that had been good in him, perhaps all that had been 
 
 evil in herself; her lips quivered, and her eyes filled. 
 
 But it was hard to pity one who was at rest, hard for 
 
 her with the world to face afresh that night, without a 
 
 single friend. The Carringtons ? Well, she would 
 
 i^^j 
 
THE MAN IN THE STREET 50 
 
 and now Ae had a very definite point upon which to 
 conwlt Mr. Carrington. That helped her, and she 
 went, quietly and unseen as she had come. 
 
 .f^rl!* ^^ • "«*** ^ «>* ground-floor window, 
 of the ^te Street house, strong light, and voice.; 
 It was the dmuig-room, for the Minchin. had dined 
 thew once ; and the voices did not include a feminine 
 one that Rac^ could perceive. If the« were people 
 dining with them, the huJie. must have gone up^ 
 •nd Mrs. Camngton was the woman to Me Rachel for 
 five minute^ and the one woman in England to whom 
 «*e could turn. It wa. an opportunity not to miw- 
 she had not the courage to let it pass-and yet it 
 required almost a. much to ring the belL And even 
 •8 die rang— but not until that moment-did Rachel 
 recognise and admit to herself the motive which had 
 bought her to that door. It was not to obtain the 
 advice of a clever man ; it was the sympathy of another 
 woman that she needed that night more than anything 
 else in all the world. 
 
 She was shown at once into the study behind the 
 dining-room, and immediately the voices in the latter 
 ceased. This was ominous ; it was for Mr.. Carrington 
 that Rachel had asked ; and the omen was instwtiv 
 ftilfiUed. It was Mr. Carrington who came into the 
 room, dark, dapper, and duskily flushed with his own 
 hoipitaHty, but without the genial fiont which Rachel 
 had liked best in him. His voice also, when he had 
 carefuUy shut the door behind him, was unnaturally stiff. 
 
eo 
 
 THE SHADOW OF THE HOHT 
 
 I coi^toUtt joa." !!• tidd. with a bow but 
 nothing mow; •»! HMbd ww th«. wd thtn how it 
 
 '^tobejforwithhwatleiirtthi.iiMuihadiimr 
 b«mi^ before, having indeed oftnded her with hii 
 
 famdWty .t the time when her hud«,d wd he we» 
 bettfhenda. 
 
 "Howcan Ithimliyoa?" «-*-«. 
 
 Cerrington said it waa not neeeiMiy. 
 «Then I^y hope,- .aid Hachel.' on one of her 
 
 aLd with neither more nor ha. of the contem^ 
 
 !!Jr^y J^*^ "^"^ ^ ''""^'^ ^^ «&n^ toZ 
 other Old Mey trial ; but the man himself wa. qdck 
 to «e the brutiditjof ««Ji « statement, and qirick. 
 yet to tone it down. M»««« 
 
 "It wasn't necewary,- he added, with a touch of the 
 wriyi^er which die had never liked; «you ^ j 
 
 The in^^ty wm so .bvious that Bachel could 
 
 «««? J ^ herself to confess that die h«l come to 
 ««k hi. ^nce, "What was the point?" fc. .id to 
 
 that, so cnsply that the only point which Had could 
 ttiiA.'^f was the fbsh, raw grievance of the e^ 
 
 He came to me about it; but I simpfl ~»'^' 
 
 Badiel knew weU what he sui^xupd. 
 
THE BiAN IN THE ffTBEET 61 
 
 •1^ dMMiId have toM you to-nl^t," added Car- 
 
 Sf^^*"^."**- '^ "nt wa. only paid for 
 l«lf tlia term-quite right-the uwal way. •£« iw- 
 m«i«it tenant wanted to be done with the houi 
 altogether, and that entitled her to take her thing, 
 ottt No, Fin afraid you have no grieranee then. 
 atn. Minchin.^ 
 
 -And pray,** demanded Rachd, "where an mw 
 things ?"* ' 
 
 «Ah, your solidtor will teU you thA-when you 
 give him the chance! He very properly would not 
 care to bother you about trifles until the caee agaimt 
 TOO wae latiefactorily disposed of. By the to I 
 hope you don^ mind my cigar? We were imokhw 
 In the neit room." -«««uig 
 
 •* I have taken yon from your guests," said BacfaeL 
 nM^j, «I know I ought not to have eome at 
 •oeh an hour.* ^^ 
 
 C^nington did not contradict her. 
 
 "But there seemed so much to speak about," she 
 
 wiat desperately oa "There are the money matte» 
 and—acd " 
 
 «»you wUl come to my chambers," saM Carringtmi, 
 «I Aall be delighted to go into «,hig. with youTI^ 
 to advise you to the best of my abiMty. IfyoneouW 
 manage to come at hal^patt ntee on Monday mom- 
 
 % I would be there eto^ and could give you twenty 
 minutes." » ^ 
 
 ^ wwte down ^ iddresi, «nd, handing it to 
 
 HMIIk 
 
m THE SHADOW OF THE ROFS. 
 
 Radid, nuig tht beU. This dxovt her to dctpdr ; 
 evidently it never occurred to him that ihe was foint 
 with wearineM and hunger, that ihe had nowhan to 
 go for the night, and not the price of a decent meal« 
 mudi len a bed, in hoc purw. And even now her 
 pride prevented her from telling the truth} but it 
 would not dlenoe her supreme dedre. 
 
 **Ohl'* she cried; **oh, may I not nMak to voor 
 wife?'' 
 
 **Nok to-night, if you don't mind," replied Car- 
 rington, with his bow and smile. ** We can't both 
 de s ert our guetts.** 
 
 ** Only for a minute ! *» pleaded Rachel. « I wouldrfl 
 keep her nuae I ** 
 
 <*Not to-night,** he repeated, with a broader smile 
 • clearer enunciation, and a decision so obviously 
 irrevocable that Rachel said no more. But she would 
 not see the hand that he could afford to hold out to 
 her now ; and as for going near his chamber^ Mver, 
 never, though she starved ! 
 
 •*No, I wouldn't have kept her," she sobbed in the 
 street ; ** but she would have kept me 1 I know her ! 
 I know her! She would have had pity on me, in 
 spite of him ; but now I can never go near either of 
 themagain!" 
 
 Then where was she to go? God knew f No re. 
 spectaUe hotel would take her in without luggage or 
 a dqxMit What was she to do ? 
 
 But while she wondered her feet were carrying her 
 
THE MAN IN THE 8TBEET 60 
 
 «» mow in tht oM dlwction, and •• tlie walked an 
 Kea cam.. Sha was voy near the fetal Mttle itnet at 
 thetinie. She turned about, and then to the left. In 
 • few moment- ihe was timonMidy knocking at the 
 door of a houae with a caid in the window. 
 
 «iri you!" cried the woman who came, almost 
 •hutting the door in Rachel's fece. leaving just space 
 enough for her own. « ju^ •[>«» 
 
 « You hare a room to let,'' said Rachel, steadily. 
 ^t not to you." ..id the woman, quickly; and 
 Hechel was not surprised, the other was «, pale, so 
 ■tnmgely agitated. *^^ 
 
 "But why?" she asked. "I have been acquitted- 
 thanks partly to your own evidence-and yet you of aU 
 women wiU not Uke me in f Do you mean to tell me 
 that you actually think I did it still?" 
 
 Rachel fiiUy expected an affirmative. She was 
 prepared for that opinion now fbm aU the world ; but 
 for once a surprise was in store for her. The pale 
 wimian shifted her eyes, then raised them doggedly, 
 •nd the look in them brought a sudden glow to 
 Rachel's heart. 
 
 "No, I don't think that, and never did," said tlie 
 one independent witness for the defence. « But othen 
 do, and I am too near where it happened; it might 
 empty my house and keep it empty." 
 
 Rachel seized her hand. 
 
 "Never mind, never mind," she whispered. «It is 
 better, ten thousand times, tiiat you shouJd belitye in 
 
•ft THE SHADOW OP THE HOPE 
 
 M% that my wonum thoakl t lluuik jou, ind Ood 
 bkM joo, fortlwtl** 
 
 Sm wm turning awmy, wImo iht iSMstd «bout upon 
 Hm ttepi, gsdng pMt tht wonum who btHtrtd in bcr, 
 •kmg tht pMMg« beyond, an unnpoken question 
 twMAth the teen in her eyce. 
 *< He is not here," sdd the landlady, quickly. 
 **BttthedidgetoTerit?" 
 «8o we hope; but he was at death's door that 
 morning, and for days and weeks. Now he's abroad 
 again—rm sure I don't know when." 
 
 Bachel said good-night, and this time the door not 
 only shut before she had time to change her mind 
 again, but she heard the bolts shot as she reached the 
 pavement The fact did not strike her. She was 
 thinking for a moment of t'ae innocent young foreigner 
 who had brought matters to a crisis between her 
 husband and herself. On the whole she was gbd that 
 be was not hi England— yet there would have bean 
 oneiUend. 
 
 And now her own case was really desperate ; it was 
 late at night; she was famished and worn out in body 
 and mind, nor could she see the slightest prospect of a 
 lodging for the night 
 
 And that she would have had in the condemned cell, 
 with food and warmth and rest, and the blessed certainty 
 of a speedy issue out of all her aHictions. 
 It was a bitter irony, after all, this acquittal I 
 There was but one place for her now. She i^ouM 
 
THE MAN IN THE STREET j 
 
 tilt hoa» rf „i^ °T *• "'»'•• to U» ""pty kou«, 
 
 W . f«t which .he hid W t tlT""" *^ 
 
 »»^ given pUc to despair B^t 7 . '''^'^^* 
 
 her Wnt and ill And 'hT k ' '^ "^^ '"^^'n^ 
 
 ^ 1K1 lii. And .he humeJ we^^ though A. 
 
 But in the little street if-if i 
 
 «>wd filled it. tlT^ i^^ 'i'* '*^'' ««''•«*• A 
 "«eu u, tbe crowd stood b»ft»« *u 
 
 hoi«eof«,iTowandofcrime.Zrin ' '"^'^ 
 
 •aw the cause. . ^nd in a .noment Rachel 
 
 It WM her own fault She had left th. u u, u. 
 
 •"Und the pnn ' ^ ""^ ••» 'tood 
 
 «8he-.„pthe„.rt^y^,,^ 
 
 "Not her! If. « ghort." 
 I'Her-u.bMd'.gho.t.then- 
 
 roiiowed er and 'earf the door 
 
 
 .ii 
 
00 
 
 THE SHADOW OF THE ROFE 
 
 go; an* w^m > come back wiv ^is pals, vere #ag vat 
 
 light" 
 "Let'B'ave'erahtof it" 
 ** Yuss, she ain^ no right there." 
 " No ; the condemned cellos the plice for 'er ! " 
 ** Give us a stone afore the cojqier comes ! " 
 And Rachel saw the first stone flung, and heard tbe 
 
 first glass break ; and within a very few minutes there 
 
 was not a whole pane left in the front of the house ; 
 
 but that was all the damage which Rachel herself saw 
 
 dime. >i 
 
 A hand touched her lightly on the shoulder. 
 **Do you still pin your faith to tbe man in the 
 
 street ? " said a voice. 
 And, though she had ben^. it for the first time that 
 
 very evening, it was a voict ' ^tt Rachel seemed to have 
 
 known all her life. 
 
 m 
 
 'fm 
 
 
CHAPTEB VI 
 
 A PEWPATETIC PllOVIDENCB 
 
 It was Mr. Steel who stood at B..»..r «. 
 repeat It in the same torn* in.^-^ 
 
 r^r^T ~"' to her i^Knie in the nick oJ 
 
 dlw^H r**?""^*""*^^- Y-t. as the nearly 
 drowned do struggle with their saviour, so Bachel 
 muBt fence instinctively with hers. 
 «I never did pin my faith to him," said she. 
 Yet see the risk that you are running I If he 
 
 turns round— if any one of f ».«,», + , 
 
 ^^ « any one of tjem turns round and 
 
 recognises you—listen to thai; ! " 
 It was only the second window, but a third and a 
 
 Ml 
 

 m 
 
 '-f- 
 
 0B THE SHADOW OF THE ROFE 
 
 fourth followad like ahoti from the a*me rfTolver. 
 Radiel winced. 
 
 "For GmTs lake, come away!^ he whispered, 
 itemlj. 
 
 And Rachel did come a few yards before a flicker 
 of her spirit odled a halt. 
 
 ** Why shiHild I run away ? "* she demanded, in sudden 
 tears of mortification and of weakness combined. ** I 
 am innocent — so why should I?^ 
 
 ** Because they don^t like innocent people ; and there 
 appear to be no police in these parts; and if you fall 
 into their hands — weU, it would be better for you if 
 you had been found ^ilty and were safe and sound in 
 Newgate now ! " 
 
 That was exactly what Rachel bul felt herself; she 
 to(^ a few steps more, but still with rdoeteioe and 
 irresdntion ; and once RMind the nearest ecnwr, and 
 tmk. of that hatdul street for ever, she turned to her 
 eompanion is anomcealed despair. 
 
 **Bat what am I to cb?'' ^ cried. *<But where 
 MB I to turn?'* 
 
 ^Mti. Minchin," said Sted, *<can you not reaBy 
 trust me yet P 
 
 He stood before her under a street lamp, haadbome 
 still, upright fin* all his yvars, stnmg as fate itself, 
 and surely kindor than any fiite which Rachel Mindbin 
 had yet imt with in the course of her short but 
 cheqiMred U#e. And yet — and yet— die trusted and 
 .\A bkn too! 
 
A PERIPATETIC fROflDENCE 69 
 
 I can and I cwnot," Ae «^«d ; and even with the 
 - one reason occurred to her. «¥« have Mowed 
 
 vroidfl 
 
 me, you see, after all !" 
 
 rfd-me Mjr i«r lady, I ,„ ^ ™ 
 
 "ght of you to-night ! " s -m m um 
 
 "And whj not?" 
 
 t. U y^ Fid. rit^'^"12^Lr^ 
 
 Bo«l Any nH«^ they „,.y be npon » ^ 
 tW-.,h.n«„,d»ppedfromh.„e.!- 
 
 ■•d ey- d.Uted «d widened in the night, then witt 
 
 Steel q«e«l hu h«id before the muddy wheel 
 
 "Be «,«We," he whirred, "«ri j„,^ j,", j„ , 
 l>«n<om you eui w where you .» going~to , h.n«« 
 
 -"J decent penon on the sidewdk. Ah I ™, wffl 
 
 ^«r " *" ^ "^-^ """■' y" f^ -/h-rt -" 
 J^Where to, «?" „k«, the c^„^ though th. 
 
 And B«hel lirtened with languid curio.ity, but 
 U-t »- dl. She bed put herrelf i„ thU .n^'JlLT- 
 n«rtu.« w« .t „ end, «,d a reckle» indifference' 
 to her (kte the new attitude of a „ul a, utterly 
 
70 
 
 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 overtaxed and exhatuted as its tired tenement of 
 clay. 
 
 "Brook Street,** said Steel, after a moment's pause 
 — ^«and double-quick for a double fare. We shall be 
 there in a quarter of an hour," he added reassuringly 
 as the trap-door slammed, "and you will find every- 
 thing ready for you, beginning with something to eat. 
 I, at all events, anticipated the verdict ; if you dont 
 believe me, you will when we get there, for they have 
 been ready for you all day. Do you know Claridge's 
 Hotel, by the way ? " 
 
 "Only by name," said Rachel, wearily. 
 **rm glad to hear it," pursued Mr. Steel, "for I 
 ti^k you will be pleased. It is not like the ordinary 
 nm of hotels. Your rooms are your castle — a regular 
 •elf-contained flat — and you needn't see another soul 
 a you d(m't like. I am staying in the hotel myself, 
 fir example, but you shall not set eyes on me for a 
 W9tk, unless you wish to." 
 
 "Bat I dont understand," began Rachel, roused a 
 little froa her apathy. She was not suffered to 
 proceed. 
 
 " Nor an you to attempt to do so," said her com- 
 panion, " until to-morrow morning. If you feel equal 
 to it then, I dball «fave an audience, and you shall 
 hear what I hare got to avf. But first, let me heg 
 of y<w, KB adequate supper and a good ni^'s 
 r«»t!* 
 
 **One thiiif is certain," said Ra^id, half to herself: 
 
 g r -r ggi 
 
«1 
 
 A PEHIPATETIC PROVIDENCE 
 
 il-utur And ' r " "^'^ "^^- ''^^^ 
 
 "IWfK And no luggage ! " 
 
 lh«t they are prepared for," returned Steel • « and 
 
 «70«r roon,, you will find a n,aid who is io I 
 
 "«M. they do not know; it would have been i„ 
 «pedient to tell them." ""* 
 
 "Then at leart," said Hachel, «I ought to know 
 who I am supposed to be." 
 
 And she smiled, for interest and curiosity we« 
 awakened within her with tho ^""<»Mty wese 
 
 the left, the gre.t house, on the right, the iri.n« 
 
 "•^ 7 *•'• «''«!'»• K«hd already i««ej^ 
 •n hu fcce, „d divined it i„ hi, du^Z^J 
 «^..tU^ ^he«.f th.t the« ™ „, f^^U:.^ 
 au. Yet otherwue she «ouId h.Te dropped „ulJ 
 ttan h.™ doue „h»t she ™ doing now ^e^ 
 
 «el «rfe m h» hands. But with that »murtU,„bfe 
 •ense of immediate «curity there mingled Tm^Z. 
 premonition of ultimate danger, to ^i bI^'^ 
 felt ^ve from the first And this w«, ^TZ^ 
 stimulus of all. •» toe Keenest 
 
 What was his intention, and what hi. rfject .» T. 
 
n THE SHADOW OP THE HOPE 
 
 draw back WM to find out neither; and to.say tl^ 
 truth, even if die had not been friendkw and fdrlom, 
 Rachel would have been very tony to dnw back now! 
 The raw air in her face had greatly levived her; the 
 •ights and %ht8 of the town were rtill new and dear 
 to her; the had come back to the world with a 
 vengeance, to a world of incident and interest, with 
 an adventure ready waiting to take her out of her 
 past self 1 
 
 But it was only her companion's silence which en- 
 abled Rachel to realise her strange fortune at this 
 ■tafi^ and she, had to put her question point-blank 
 before she obtained any answer at all 
 
 "If you insut upon hearing aU the little details 
 to-night," said Steel, with a good-humoured shrug, 
 " well, I suppose you must hear them ; bat I hope 
 you will not msist. I have had to make provisions 
 which you may very possibly resent, but I thou^ 
 ft would be time enough for us to quanel about them 
 It^ the morning. To-night you need rest and suste- 
 aance, but no excitement ; of that God knows you have 
 had enough! No one will come near you but the 
 maid of whom I spoke; no questions will be put to 
 you; everything is arranged. But to-morrow, tf you 
 feel equal to it, you shall hear aU about me, and f<mn 
 your own cool judgment of my behaviour towards you. 
 Meanwhile won't you trust me — impUcitly — until 
 then?" 
 
 «i do," said Rachel, "and I wiU~until to-mor»w." 
 
 ■11 
 
 "-•^F ;• 
 
A PEBIPATEnc PROVIDENCE 78 
 
 !*»-« m" -a SUd. with th. heXTrf . C 
 
 who fcu giJ,^ y, ^ „ -ill Z ^ 
 
 I <« help it. ,hj, y,„ ^^^ .t thi. hold A,^ 
 
 Rwhel wu ,^; • xf , ° "other moment 
 
 rT "" f"**™* tte bom of powdered footmen 
 m ««o«,„ p,«h, while Sted, hat irh.^hr^^ 
 hj« gle-Bing in th. d«Wc light, led the '.^ZZ 
 
 JjtU^ were c^Uin fe.t„» th.t Ae nev^t^,' 
 »« w„ the beautiftl ,„ite „f ^„„ ^1^ ,«f^ 
 
 I«4 »«hel mnembered the dazzle of ril,er «d tte 
 
 ^.ttr»'^,^ »d the deep emuL„m'enT rf 
 W but peeprf in to «. that .U w„ in ,«^ 
 
 LSi-1 t-V, 
 
W THE SHADOW OF THE ROPB 
 
 with hit orden; thereafter not even • w^ #«« 
 •JBowed to enter, bat onlj Rachel's attendant, to wheat 
 
 chaige the had been committed ; a gentle and awMaoaa 
 creature, quiet of foot and quick of hand, who epoke 
 •eldom but in a soothing voice, and with the delicatf 
 •nd pretty accent of the Prench-Swiss. 
 
 Rachel used to wonder wh^^her she had shocked 
 this mannerly young woman by eating very nyen- 
 oudy; she remembered a nex-vous desire to be done 
 with that solitary repast, and to get to bed. Yet 
 when she wa, there, in the sweetest and whitest of 
 fine Imen, with a hot bottle at her feet, and a fire 
 burning so l»ightly in the room that the brass bed- 
 stead seemed here and the,* red-hot, then the sound 
 sle^ that she sorely needed seemed further olF than 
 ever, for always she dreamt she was hi prison and con- 
 demned to die, till at length she feared to close ha 
 eyes. But nothing had been forgotten; and Rachel's 
 last memory of that eventful day, and not less eventful 
 night, was of a mUd, foreign fkce bending over her with 
 a medicme-gla« and a gcatle word. 
 
 And the same good fiu» Md the sa». soft voice 
 were waiting Ibr her when afc, awoke after aiany 
 h^; the fire still burned brightly, also the dtectric 
 hght, thouj^ the blind was up and the window filM 
 with a dull November sky. It was a delicious awaken- 
 ing, recollection was so slow to come. Rachel mi^t 
 have been Ul for days. She experienced the p^ 
 that is left by illness of «riBcie«t gravity. But aU 
 
 -hC*- 
 
A PERIPATETIC PROVIDENCE 7J 
 
 « .ntaUbl. cup „ u^ a,., ,^i^ ^^ ^^ 
 
 nJLZ^ ^" -n-ing. however, «Uight«,o»,? 
 »« due^ «,d n.e«,while Haehel reeeived . hint, though 
 
 «^«.- coori the giri, „ .he Wed herJlbollt th" 
 
 ■ronder how much the other knew. 
 
 aJ'^f It '**''' *■"» '""« yo" life, m.d«n.r 
 «»gn■I«ddedwithasInile. -"^i 
 
 ^ Jt w« the c«e; it would be «methinff to have 
 SL . 'y'"'r "^ "«»«»"- though 
 
 .h."'*]'^ !^ """^ I^' P^-P'' "«« drowned!" «ud 
 ■ht And the mystifieation mcreased. 
 
 ,).fr!I!"^ *!■?" "" ' ''"'"'' "' *« out" door 
 wh^h the „„d »,wered. returning with Mr. st^l 
 
 "U he there?" „ked Rachel, hastUy. 
 
 m 
 
 ii 
 
W THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 **N(H maduoM, bot out of the Mmnti is wtiUng tot 
 an aotwor. I think than it MOMthiiig written oo Um 
 badt, madame.** 
 
 Radnl read the harmlew request on the back of 
 the card ; nothing ooaid haf« been better cakulated 
 to torn away euspidon of one eort or another, and 
 there was obWons design fai the absence of an envelope. 
 Bat Rachel was not yet in the seeivt, and she was 
 determined not to wait an hour longer than she 
 need. 
 
 ** What is the time, please ?** 
 
 "Iwilifee^madame." 
 
 The girl glided out and in. 
 
 "WeU?" 
 
 ** A quarter to ten, madame.** 
 
 **Then order my breakfast for a quarter past, and 
 let Ifr. Steel be told that I shall be delighted to see 
 him at eleven o'clock.** 
 
 m 
 
 ii 
 
 ■g^raHi'iiLa g 
 
CHAPTER VU 
 
 A MOINIKO CALL 
 
 Steel, «i. to anume another as dutinctive at one*, 
 own. 
 
 Thta oncuUr uttonnee wa. coafidentuDy ddiwnd 
 ftom the leathern diair «t the writfag-uble, in u 
 
 ^8tiS*^'"^1 "-of fi»m the uL, „ w^ 
 
 rtdl hter.tu« u ™gg«ted hi. immedirte depTtur. 
 »po« no d.^ joumej. ^Om, iirfeed, th. ni^e. 
 «^tt. Surday a«.p.p.„ tu™d oat to bTTL 
 oaWng to Mr* Minehin, Mk. th. «o«g.y „f hrtho«» 
 
 flowo. which 4. rtiU held in her 1«S lUchd iT 
 ™ ^ '™«'™rte»Uy tato the «,y euy-duur which 
 
 r^u ^^ *^*™ of the rece«, in it. cu.hi««d 
 d^th. d» .l«dy Mt .t . needto di«lv«,t.g. 
 "th Mr Sted b««iing ,™ he,, u. ., "^ 
 b«»ing down, « it were, upon he«, md hi. bl«i 
 q« raldhng her with penetmting gl«,c«. But to 
 h»w ri«n now would h.ra been to Ao, him what 
 
 77 
 
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MIOtOCORY RfSOlUTION TEST CHART 
 
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 rJS Roctiesler, Ne» York U609 USA 
 
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78 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 she felt So she trifled with his flowers without look- 
 ing up, though her eyebrows rose a little on their own 
 occoimt. 
 
 «I know what you are thinking," resumed Steel; 
 " that you had no desire to assume any new identity, 
 or for a single moment to conceal your own, and that 
 I have taken a great deal upon myself. That I most 
 freely admit. And I think you will forgive me when 
 you see the papers ! " 
 
 "Is there so much about me, then?" asked Rachel, 
 with a sigh of apprehension. 
 
 " A leading article in every one of them. But they 
 will keep. Indeed, I would much rather you never saw 
 them at all.'' 
 
 "Was that why you brought them in, Mr. Steel?" 
 
 The question was irresistible, its satire unconcealed ; 
 but Steel's disregard of it steered admirably clear of 
 contempt. 
 
 "That was why I bought them, certainly," he ad- 
 mitted. "But I brought them with me for quite a 
 different purpose, for which one would indeed have 
 been enough. I was saying, however, that the best 
 way to sink one's identity is to assume another, 
 provided that the second be as distinctive as the 
 first. We will leave for a moment the question of 
 my officiousness in the matter, and we'll suppose, for 
 the sake of argument, that I was authorised by you 
 to do what in fact I have done. All last week the 
 papers were literally full of your trial, but on Saturday 
 
A MORNING CALL 79 
 
 there was a second sensation as well, and this morning 
 it is hard to say which is first and which second ; 
 they both occupy so many columns. You may not 
 know it, but the Cape liner due on Saturday was lost 
 with^ scores of lives, off Finisterre, on Friday morning 
 
 Rachel failed to see the connection, and yet she 
 felt vaguely that there was one, if she could but 
 recall it ; meanwhile she said nothing, bat listened with 
 as much attention as a mental search would permit. 
 
 "I heard of it first," continued Steel, 'Mate on 
 Friday afternoon, as I came away from the Old 
 Bailey. Now, it was on Friday afternoon, if you re- 
 coUect, that you gave evidence yourself in your own 
 defence. When you left the witness-box, Mrs. Minchin, 
 and even before you left it, I knew that you were 
 saved!" 
 
 Rachel remembered the Swiss maid's remark about 
 the loss of her clothes and the number of persons who 
 had fared so much worse and lost their lives. But 
 Steel's lasc words dismissed every thought but that of 
 their own import. And in an in&iant she was trembling 
 upright in the easy-chair. 
 
 « You believed me 1 " she whispered. « You believed 
 me at the time ! " 
 
 And for nothing had he earned such gratitude 
 yet; her moist eyes saw the old-fashioned courtesy 
 of his bow in answer, but not the subtlety of the smile 
 that bore it company in the deptl;s of the dark eyes : 
 
I 
 
 r 
 
 i.i 
 
 80 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 it was a smile that did not extend to the short tight 
 
 mouth. 
 
 "What is more to the point, my dear lady,** he 
 went on in words, « the jury believed you, and I saw 
 that they did. You made a tremendous impression 
 upon them. The lawyer against you was too humane 
 to try very hard to remove it, and the judge too just — 
 though your own man did his best But I saw at 
 once that it would never be removed It was between 
 you and the jury — human being to human beings — 
 and no third legal party intervening. That was where 
 you scored ; you went straight as a die to those twelve 
 simple hearts. And I saw what you had done— what 
 the lawyers between them could not undo— and took 
 immediate measures." 
 
 Rachel looked up with parted lips, only to shut 
 them firmly without a word. 
 
 « And who was I to take measures on your behalf?" 
 queried Steel, putting the question for her. «What 
 right or excuse had I to mix myself up in your 
 affairs? I will tell you, for this morning is not 
 last night, and at least you have one good night's 
 rest between you and the past My dear Mrs. Min- 
 chin, I had absolutely no right at all; but I had the 
 excuse which eveiy man has who sees a wmnan left 
 to stand alone against the world, and who thrusts 
 himself, no matter how officiously, into the breach 
 beside her. And then for a week I had seen you all 
 day and every day, upon your trial ! " 
 
A MORNING CALL gl 
 
 At last there was something with a ring of definite 
 
 indncenty, something that Rachel could take up; and 
 
 »he gazed upon her self-appointed champion with candid 
 eyes, 
 
 "Do you mean to say that you never saw ^e before 
 —my trouble, Mr. Steel ? " 
 "Never in my life, my dear lady." 
 II ^en you knew something about me or mine ! " 
 What one read in the newspape«-neither mor. 
 nor less-upon my most solemn word-if that will 
 satisfy you." 
 
 And it did; for if there had been palpable insm- 
 oeniy m h,s previous protesUtions, there was sincerity 
 of a still more obvious order in Mr. Steel's downright 
 M-urances on these two pointe. He had never even 
 
 h« up to the period of notoriety; he had no special 
 and no p^vious knowledge of his own. It mighVnot 
 be true, of cour«; but there was that in the deep-set 
 eyes which convinced Rachel once and for aU. -i^ere 
 was a sudden lighl in them, a light as candid as that 
 whic^ happened to be shining in her own, but a not 
 too kindly one, rather a glint of genuine resentment 
 It was his smooth protesUtions that Rachel distrusted 
 and dishked. If she could ruffle him, she might get at 
 the real man ; and with her questions she appeami to 
 have done so already. 
 
 « I am more than satisfied, in one way," replied 
 Rachel, "and less in another. I rather wish you 
 
THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 I 
 
 had known something about me ; it would Iiave made 
 it ore natural for you to come to my assistance. But 
 ne .r mind. What were these immediate measures ? ^ 
 " I took these rooms ; I had spoken of taking them 
 earlier in the week.^ 
 « For me ? " 
 
 " Yes, on the chance of your getting off." 
 " But you did not say they were for me ! " 
 ** No ; and I was vague in what I had said until then. 
 I had a daughter — a widow — whom I rather expected 
 to arrive from abroad towards the end of the week. 
 But I was quite vague." 
 
 " Because you thought I had no chance ! " 
 " I had not heard your evidence. The very after- 
 noon I did hear it, and had no longer any doubt 
 about the issue in my own mind, I also heard of this 
 wreck. The very thing ! I waited till next morning 
 for the list of the saved ; luckily there were plenty of 
 them ; and 1 picked out the name of a married woman 
 travelling alone, and therefore very possibly a widow, 
 from the number. Then I went to the manager. The 
 daughter whom I expected had been wrecked, but she 
 was saved, and would arrive that night. As a matter 
 of fact, the survivors were picked up by a passing 
 North German IJoyd, and they did reach London on 
 Saturday night. Meanwhile I had impressed it upon 
 the manager to keep the matter as quiet as possible, 
 for many excellent reasons, which I need not go into 
 now." 
 
A MORNING CALL gg 
 
 ••But ft, re«o„ for «, elaborate a p«ten«,?- 
 
 vWb./«,„,„ttft.tu'thrtrut"'""' ■■-' """"" 
 
 Mr, M„ch,„_the M„. Minchin .ho\ul beco,« i 
 cruelly n„t„rio„ though „o fault of her own^f 4," 
 for a day or tm, or a single nieht Th.t ! 
 
 -il. to be erected by ^.our tivin^ r^u. 
 F-^.ou. a^d plus a ve^ definite story'of yo"r Z" 
 You rn^e very ,„re of ™e ! " ajd Hachd, dryly 
 "x trusted to my own p„„er, of persuadon «^' 1* 
 
 Steel, « that I hoped the report was true " 
 
 ^Did it folW that 1 could have no pride ?- 
 
 Bjr no means; on the contrary, I knew n,.f 
 
 were fUl. of pride; it is, if i n:7;eLTt.Xr 
 
 one of your most salient characteristics. Nothing w« 
 
 more nohceable at your trial; nothing finer hfve" 
 
 zi:^ f:r ""t r- -'^^"^ • o^™- 
 
 enthusiasm that gamed by the suppression "h„t 
 -a™. I hoped and prayed that ^o, w" d We 
 the^^nse to put your pride in the second placeTr 
 
 "Wen," said Rachel, "and so far I have done so 
 Heaven knows ! " °* 
 
 « And that is something," i-ejoined Steel, impressivelv 
 "Even If it ends at this-even if you won't IT ^* 
 out-it is something that you J^Zl^Z^^, 
 
«4 
 
 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 I 
 
 and one morning free fh>m insult, discomfort, and 
 annoyance.^ 
 
 Rachel felt half frightened and half indignant Steel 
 was standing up, looking very earnestly down upon 
 her. And something that she had dimly divined in 
 the very beginning— only to chide herself for the mere 
 thought — that thing was in his face and in his voice. 
 Rachel made a desperate attempt to change the subject, 
 but, e.^ will be seen, an unlucky one. 
 
 <*So I am supposed to he your daughter!^ she 
 exclaimed nervously. "May I ask my new name ?^ 
 
 "If you like; but I am going to suggest to you a 
 still newer name, Mrs. Minchin."* 
 
 Rachel tried to laugh, though his quietly deter- 
 mined and serious face made it more than difficult. 
 
 " Do you mean that I am not to be your daughter 
 any longer, Mr. Steel ?"" 
 
 "Not if I can help it. But it will depend upon 
 yourself." 
 
 " And what do you want to make me now ?" 
 
 "My wifeP 
 
 -3 i 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 nns DOVE AND THE SERPENT 
 
 «ft« 11. it ,„ the «.,y pcS^eZ ""' "'• 
 
 -ith'er;':?^^ r^'t: «^««> «-• sue.. 
 
 with the iSr rf rr^ .. ^ ' ''* •"•" «■« '«• 
 
 And lUchel, looking «t the wiry, well-knit nDr!.U 
 figure, .nd .t the ft«h, elderly, but rtrile fZl'Tj^ 
 
 ^«. hnt he w„ eminently ..^^':^^ 
 ■» "" not, and never would be with tho«, eye* 
 
II 
 
 il 
 
 86 
 
 THE SHADOW OF THE 
 
 1.. 
 
 She tried to tell him it was absurd, but before the 
 woiii would come she saw that it was the last one to 
 apply ; he was so confident, so quiet, so sure of him- 
 self, if not of Rachel. At last she told him she could 
 not think of it, he had seen nothing of her, and could 
 not po8sibl> care for her, even supposing that she cared 
 
 for him. 
 
 "By •carinjf,'*' said he, "do yon mean being *m 
 love,' s they say, and all that ? " 
 
 " Naturally,'' said Rachel, with great ease and irony, 
 but with a new misgiving every moment. 
 
 " And have I said I wf« in love with you ? " inquired 
 Mr. Steel, with a smile as indulgent as his tone. ♦♦ It 
 might, perhaps, be no more than the truth ; but have 
 I had the insolence to tell you so ? " 
 
 "It is a greater insult if you are not," returned 
 Rachel, speaking hotly and quickly, but v. 'i lowered 
 
 eyes. 
 
 " What \ To offer to marry a person whom ont does 
 not — as yet— pretend to love ? " 
 
 Rachel vouchsafed no reply. 
 
 " Whom one only — but tremendously — admires ? " 
 
 Rachel felt bound to answei him, for at least thera 
 was no insult in his tone. She raised her candid 
 eyes, a sweet brown blush upon her face. 
 
 " Yes," she said, « I think there is absolutely no 
 excuse for a proposal of marriage, if it is not founded 
 upon love and nothing else ! " 
 
 "Or its pretence and uothing else," amended Steel 
 
THE DOVE AND THE SERPENT 87 
 
 with a bow and a imile of tome •ererity. ** That U 
 a hard lying," he went on, resuming his chair, and 
 wheeling it even neater to Rachel's than it had been 
 before; "moreover," he added, «* since I have already 
 insulted you, let me tell you that it is an exceedingly 
 commonplace saying, into the bargain. It depends, 
 you must admit, upon the commonplace conception of 
 marriage ; and before we go any further I should like 
 to give you my own conception, not of the institution, 
 but of the particular marriage which I have in 
 view/ 
 
 So he had it in view ! It was not an aspiration, 
 but already quite a prospect! Rachel made an ad^ 
 little note of thii ; but there was no acidity in her 
 permission to him to proceed ; her turn was cominir 
 last. ** 
 
 " The marriage that I propose to you," continued 
 Steel, « is simply the most convenient form of friendship 
 of which I can think, I want to be your friend; 
 indeed, that much I mean to be, if necessary, in spite 
 of you. I was interested in your case, so I came up to 
 hear your trial. I was more interested in your trial, but 
 most interested of all ic. you yourself. There, indeed, 
 the word is too weak ; but I will not vex your spirit 
 with ^ stronger. My attraction you know ; my deter- 
 mination yov know ; even the low wiles to which your 
 pride reduced me, even my dodging and dogging, have 
 been quite openly adiritted to you on the first reason- 
 able opportunity. All this business of the shipwrecked 
 
i 
 
 I I 
 
 I ! 
 
 18 THE SHADOW OF THE ROP^. 
 
 daughter vraa of coune a crude device enough ; but I 
 had very little time to think, and my first care was that 
 you should not be recognised here or elsewhere in my 
 society. That was essential, if there was the slightest 
 chance of your even listening to my proposition, a» 
 indeed you are doing now. Last night I told you 
 nothing, because that's always easier than telling only 
 A little ; moreover, you were so distraught that you 
 would possibly have gone right away without benefiting 
 even to the slight extent of the comfortable night's 
 rest you so badly needed; but this morning I am 
 prepared to put it to the touch. And let me begin 
 by saying, that if circumstances would permit me to 
 continue the paternal imposture, that would be quit) 
 enough for me; unluckily, I am known in my own 
 country as an old bachelor ; so that I cannot suddeuly 
 produce a widowed daughter, without considerable un- 
 pleasantness for us both What I can do, however,'* 
 and Steel bent furtiier forward, rith eyes that held 
 Rachel's in their tpell ; « what I can do, and will, is to 
 go back with a lady who shall be my wife in name, 
 my daughter in effect We should, I trust be the 
 best of friends; but I will give you my word, and 
 not only my word but my bond, that we never need 
 be anything more." 
 
 He had spoken rapidly; the pause Ihat followed 
 lasted longer than this lengthy speech. And through 
 it all they sat with eyes still locked, until he spoke 
 again. 
 
 - 0. 
 
THE IX.VE AND THE SERPENT 89 
 otl)"^ Wi.,.. .t le^t, i„ u,. ^ ^ ^ ^^ 
 
 «~™ t^ord,„.r, .«•„ .f the kind, .!«, Lt I , 
 "I wi.l." 
 
 withdrawn. . di,«„cl .p.u „ dj.,;,^ brok«^Z 
 yet he lingered, ,ith a .mile. ' 
 
 twIiT"''" ,"^ •»•"•"-« poor compliment to p., 
 twice oyer! But it i. hum«. to ei, „d fa ^l 
 -™ty not to do » on the dde „ J i^tt ^o™' 
 «.y«l/ m d«ger of Bying to ., „ther erLr 
 Well, you know which is the . », """*'»"'• 
 "iich cMee • md .f .11 . " "" "**™ '" 
 
 I .Sll ; ?""* " ^°" "" "> 80 into it farther 
 I -hJl he met happy , if not, the matter i. at «, e^d " 
 A few minutes! Hachpl e^u •tanena. 
 
 lowing that *e ™ t^ a^^T "h S f™* 
 feeling angrier .till. She h«l ^Sltlll:. "'l 
 
 Zy::!T *• "■'" ^ -*'-" '^; rdti- 
 
 "Don't go,-«Jd Rachel, with .ome pctuhmce • -that 
 tat I owe joa too much already to he your critiZ 
 
90 
 
 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPB 
 
 '-•i: 
 
 Still, I do think I am entitled to go a little further 
 into the matter, as you said, without committing 
 myself." 
 
 " To be sure you are." 
 
 But this time he remained standing ; and for once 
 be kept those mesmeric eyes to himself. Obviously, 
 Bachel was to have a chance. 
 
 " You spoke of your own country," she began. ** Do 
 you live abroad ? " 
 
 There was > the least suspicion of eagerness in the 
 question. Rachel herself was unaware of it ; not so 
 Mr. Steel, and he sighed. 
 
 **A mere figure," he said; <*what I meant was my 
 own countiyside." 
 
 **And whei«i8 that?" 
 • **In the north," he replied vaguely. "Did you 
 look twice at my card ? Well, here is another, if you 
 will do me that honour now. The initials J. B. stand 
 for no very interesting names — John Buchanan. A 
 certain interest in the Buchanan, perhaps; it comes 
 out in the flesh, I fancy, though not on the tongue. 
 As for the address, Normanthorpe House is the rather 
 historic old seat of the family of that name ; but they 
 have so many vastiy superior and more modem places, 
 and the last fifty yean have so ruined ^ho surround- 
 ings, that I was able to induce the Duke to take a 
 price for it a year or two ago. He had hardly slept 
 a night there in his life, and I got it lock^tock-and- 
 barrel for a song. Hie Northborough which, you will 
 
THE DOVE AND THE SERPENT 91 
 
 observe, it is 'near '-a good six miles, as a matter 
 of fact-is the wen-known centre of the Delverton 
 iron-trade. But you maj very well have spent a year 
 in this country without having heard of it; they 
 would be shocked at Northborough, but nowhere 
 else." 
 
 Rachel had dropped the card into her lap; she was 
 looking straight at Mr. John Buchanan Steel himself. 
 "You are very rich," she said gravely. 
 "I am nothing of the kind," he protested. «The 
 Duke ,s rich, if you like, but I had to sc«pe together 
 to pay hm, what would replenish his radng-stud, or 
 stand him in a new yacht" 
 But Rachel was not deceived. 
 
 «I might have known you were very rich," she 
 murmured, as much to herself as to him; and there 
 was a stnuige finality in her tone, as though aU was 
 over between them; a still more strange regret 
 involuntary, unconscious, and yet distinct 
 
 "Granting your hypothesis, for the sake of argu- 
 ment, he went on, with his simplest smile; « is it as 
 difficult as ever for the poor rich man to «et to 
 heaven ? " o ^ 
 
 Rachel spent some moments in serious thought Ha 
 was wonderfully honest with her; of his central motive 
 
 ?i?! !lir *^^ "^**'**^°' unconvinced. In all else she 
 fe instanctively that he was teUing her the truth, 
 tellmg her even more than he need. His generous 
 candour was a challenge to her own. 
 
M THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 ** It may be voy small of me,** she said at length, 
 " but — somehow — ^if you had been comparatively poor 
 —I should have been less — ashamed ! ^ 
 
 And candour begot candour, as it generally wilL 
 
 "Upon my word,** he cried, "you make me sigh 
 for the suburbs and six hundred a year! But you 
 shall know the worst. I meant you to know it when 
 I came in; then I changed my mind; but in for a 
 penny, in for the lot ! "" 
 
 He caught up the magazine which he had brought 
 in with the sheaf of newspapers, and he handed it to 
 Rachel, open at an article quite excellently illustrated, 
 for an English magazine. 
 
 "There," he cried, "there's a long scr^ about 
 the wretched place, before it came into my hands. 
 But it's no use pretending it isn't quite the place it 
 was. I took over the whole thing— every stick out- 
 side and in — and I've put in new drainage and the 
 electric light." 
 
 His tone of regret was intentionally ludicrous. Had 
 Rachel been listening, she would once more have sus- 
 pected a pose. But ah«ady she was deep in the article 
 in the two-year-old magazine, or rather in its not in- 
 artistic illustrations. 
 
 "The House from the Tennis Lawn," "In the 
 Eitdien Garden," "The Drawing-room Door," "A 
 Drawing-room Chimney-piece," "A Comer of the 
 Chinese Room," "A Portion of the Grand Stair- 
 case "—of such were the titles underneath the process 
 
THE DOVE AND THE SERPENT 98 
 
 pictom. And (in all but their production) each of 
 these was more beautiful than the last 
 
 "That," observed Steel, "happens to be the Teiy 
 article from which I first got wind of the place, when 
 I wa» looking about for one. And now," he added, 
 ••I suppose I have cut my own throat I like the 
 devil, I have taken you up to a high place—" 
 
 It was no word from Rachel that cut him short, 
 but his own taste, with which she at least had very 
 litUe fault to find. And Rachel was critical enough ; 
 but her experience was still unripe, and she liked las 
 view of his possessions, without perceiving how it dis- 
 armed her own. 
 Presently she looked up. 
 
 **Now I see how much I should have to gain. But 
 what would you gain ? ^ 
 
 The question was no sooner asked than Rachel fore- 
 saw the pretty speech which was its obvious answer. 
 Mr. Steel, however, refrained from making it. 
 
 "I am an oldish man," he said, "and— yes, there is 
 no use in denying that I am comfortably off. I want 
 a wife; or rather, my neighbours seem bent upon 
 finding me one ; and, if the worst has to come to the 
 worst, I prefer to choose for myself. Matrimony, 
 however, is about the very last state of life that I 
 desire, and I take it to be the same with you. There- 
 fore—to put the cart before the horse— you would suit 
 me ideally. Ohe's own life would be unaltered, but the 
 Delverton mothers would cease fix)m troubling, and at 
 
9i THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 the head of my establishment there would be a^ady of 
 whom I should be most justly proud. And even in 
 my own life I should, I hope, be the more than occa- 
 sional gainer by her society ; may I also add, by her 
 sympathy, by her advice? Mrs. Minchin," cried Steel, 
 with sudden f|eling, **ihe conditions shall be v<>ry 
 rigid ; my lawyer shall see to that ; nor sball I allow 
 myself a loophole for any weakness or nonsense what- 
 soever in the future. Old fellows like myself have 
 ^ made fools of themselves before to-day, but you shall 
 be safeguarded from the banning. Let there be no 
 ta!k or thought of love between us from first to last ! 
 But as for admiration, I don't mind telling you that I 
 admire you as I never admired any woman in the 
 world before ; and I hope, in spite of that, we shall 
 be friends." 
 
 Still the indicative mood, still not for a moment 
 the conditional ! Rachel did not fail to make another 
 note; but now there was nothing bitter even in her 
 thoughts. She believed in this man, and in his pro- 
 mises ; moreover, she began to focus the one thing 
 about him in which she disbelieved. It was his feeling 
 towards her — ^nothing more and nothing else. Hiere 
 he was insincere ; but it was a pardonable insincerity, 
 after all. 
 
 Of his admiration she was convinced ; it had been 
 open and honest all along; but there was something 
 deeper than admiration. He could say what he liked. 
 The woman knew. And what could it be but love ? 
 
 iii 
 
THE DOVE AND THE SERPENT 95 
 
 The woman knew; and though the tragedy of her 
 Mfe wa. so close behind her; nay, though mystery and 
 «isp,aon encompassed her stiU, as they might untU her 
 death, the woman thrilled. 
 
 It ™ . thrOl of excitement chie«y, but «citem«it 
 w„ Bot the only element. There wa. the femm^ 
 &rt», too; there WM the fudnation which thi. mm 
 had for her, which he could exer. ^t will, „d which 
 he wu undoubtedly eierting now. 
 
 To «cpe from hie eye., to think but once more for 
 he,»lf ««1 by her^lf, lUchel «»e .t U.t, «rf looW 
 ftom the window which lit this reccM. 
 It WMa.eu.uri November d.y in London, no 
 
 „tt « r*° ""^ '*^ "U-te^Two,^ 
 
 hunymg m d«wl_hurrying « Bachel henelf h<rf 
 don. the night before-« .he might ^" ^ 
 n.g«.^ And whitherP And whithi, in^aS ^ 
 
 lUchel tuniH from the wmdow with . .hudder- 
 •he c«,ght up the iirrt newspaper of the .heJu ' ' 
 ft. wntrng-table. Steel h«l moved into thetodTo 
 the ,«,m; d,e could not even «e him ftrough the 
 •Icove. So much tte better: .he wouW Hi 7 
 
 he«df what ttey «dd. *""'" '^■• 
 
 Uading article, are easUy found, and in a Sandav 
 p.p« ftey are «ld„m long. Rachel wa. ^ ^ 
 the iir.t. her blood boiUng, the «e„nd d.e .0^.^ 
 
96 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 finiBh for her tear.; the third dried her eye. with tiie 
 fire, of fierce rei«ntment It wm not so mu^ what 
 they Mdd; it wa. what they were obviously afraid to 
 say It wa. their circumlocution, their innuendo, their 
 mild .urpriw, their perfunctory congratulation., Uieir 
 «»umption of chivalry and their Uck of it. «.e«oe, 
 that wounded and .tung the .ubject of these effusions. 
 A. Ae raised her flushed face from the last of them, 
 Mr. Steel stood before her once more, the incarnation 
 of all grave sympathy and consideration. 
 
 «You must not think,'' «ud he, "that my pro- 
 po«l admit, of no alternative but the mi«rable one 
 of makmg your own way in a .uspiciou. an^ unchari- 
 teble world. On the contrary, if I am not to be 
 your nominal and legal husband, I still intend to be 
 your actual friend. On the first point you are to 
 be consulted, but on the second not even you «haU 
 stand in my way. Nor in that event would I attempt 
 to rob you of the independence which you value so 
 highly ; on the other hand, I would point the way 
 to an faidependence worth having. I am glad you 
 bave wen thow paper., though to-morrow they may 
 be worse. WeU, you may be shocked, but, if you 
 won't have me, the won« the better, «iy II Your case 
 wa. moBt iniquitously commented upon before ever it 
 came for trial; there is sure to be a fresh crop of 
 iniquities now ; but I shall be much mistaken if you 
 cannot mulct the more flagrant offender, m heavy 
 dauiage. for libeL" 
 
THE DOVE AND THE SERPENT 97 
 
 other c«« U^' ; ""' ""> °« *<'"'<1 breed 
 
 Cte ^„d thought., Mr. Ste.1 .g,«d. 
 Then j-ou »,u.t let n,e «„d you b«k t. Austrdi..- 
 
 It was evident to me *» m{/1 c*^i . . 
 no' mo.« «> than thTl "1*^^?^^^' ""^-^'^ 
 beginning. Hence the T^ ^nd ' ", *^' ^^ 
 have put before you.'^ ^ ^ ^^^^^ "»at I 
 
 Rachel regarded him wUdly; the S„n^ 
 had driven her to desperatZ . T^ P*?*" 
 
 intended that they sholT ^ ^ ^"'^^ '' ^'^ 
 
 "Are you sure," she cried, "that tW ij 
 know me-up north?'* «»** they would ot 
 
 "Not from Eve,** he answered airiJv «T i. i. 
 ,-i.Sr ^In'^r'^^'r^r t.d.."Stee.^„h.ed 
 
98 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 how finn, how mwiring ! It was h«r fint contoct 
 
 with his hand. 
 
 "I wish it so much,'' he went on, "that I would 
 have your past hfe utterly buried, even between our- 
 selTcs ; nay, if it were possible, even in your own mind 
 also! I, for my part, would undertake never to ask 
 you one soHtary question about that lifo-on one small 
 and only feir condition. Supposing f make a 
 
 compact now ? ** j n u i 
 
 ««AnytMng to bury my own past,** owned Kachel; 
 
 « yes, I would do anything— anything ! " 
 ((Then you must help me to bury mine, too," 
 
 he said. "I was never married, but a pt«st I 
 
 ««I would do my best," said Rachel, «if I married 
 
 ^**^You will do your best," added Sted, correcting 
 her; " and there is my compact cut and dried. I ask 
 you nothhig; you ask me nothing; and there is to 
 be no question of love between us, first or last 
 But we help each otiier to forget-from this day 
 
 fortii!" , 
 
 Rachel could not speak; his eyes were upon her, 
 black, inscrutoble, arrestive of her very faculties, to 
 say notiung of her wilL She could only answer him 
 when he had turned away and was moving towards 
 
 the door. 
 « Where are you going ?" she cried. 
 «To seid to my solicitor," replied Sted, "••I 
 
TOE DOVE AND THE SEHPENT » 
 
 to Urn younelf without dd.,.- '^ ° """"»«• Put 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 ▲ CHANGE or 8CXNB 
 
 The RtTcpnd Hugh Woodgate, Vicar of M»rley-in- 
 Ddverton— A benefice for generation! in the gift of 
 the Dukee of Normanthorpe, but latterly in that of 
 one John Buchanan Sted— was writing hit sermon 
 on a Friday afternoon just six months after the fore- 
 going events. The month was therefore May, and, 
 at either end of the long, low room in which Mr. 
 Woodgate sat at work, the windows were filled with 
 a flutter of summer curtains against a brilliant back- 
 ground of waving greenery. But a fire burnt in 
 one of the two fireplaces in the old-fashioned finnel 
 of a room, for a treacherous east wind skimmed 
 the sunlit earth outsido, a^id whistled and sang 
 through one window as the birds did through the 
 
 other. 
 
 Mr. Woodgate was a tall, broad-shouldered, mild- 
 eyed man, with a blot of whisker under each ear, 
 and the cleanest of clerical collars encompassing his 
 throat It was a kindly face that pored over the 
 unpretentious periods, as they grew by degrees upon 
 
 100 
 
A CHANOE OF SCENE loi 
 
 th. Ma^IiBrf pap.,, ,„ u„ ^ 
 
 ■ort of riuc. .^ „po„ , certain .,d„ rf mind. Ik. 
 
 ™.t, 0.«^„ it w^ cl,.™cteri„ic of th, „„. tZ 
 «V to S.pl.«,b.r, Mr. W<K,dg.t. never Wled to 
 
 "op« «eal ud the uaconKJon. dncwltT irUd, 
 
 nd«.n»dnot.f.wofhi.d.adende^ ' ^ 
 
 So intent ™ th. view upon hi, t«k, „ en™«d 
 
 to the „p«ri„„ of that which h«i J^dfZa 
 
 i:XlTh„:S" """•"- •^'^™'^'^ 
 
 thiir-hT.'"''^"''^''"' "'"•'"■""■«' O'T" 
 
 Hugh Woodgate tamed round in hi. ch«r. and hi. 
 honest ox^ye. iiUed with open adn.i«tion of ttfj^ 
 
 naa seen m him Heaven knew what ! He nevpr a«.,m 
 ^ooUt he, without that look fi„t ., and f^T,":^ 
 «.me ye«, of marriege, wa, he beginning m^^u^ 
 to do „ without thi. thought next*" Bu^he C^ 
 the<pftofexp.«don... the pe^^taj ™tte, rf 
 
t 
 
 [il 
 
 II 
 
 
 t 
 
 IM THE SHADOW OF THE ROFB 
 
 his drrotioo; and |Mrh«pt iti {Mrpttuitj ow«l aom*. 
 thing to thai ywry want; at least thna was noDtoT tha 
 varbal evaporation which comes of too moofa loren* tails. 
 «* Who is it P** he asked. 
 <*Mrs.Venab " 
 
 Woodgrte groaned. Was he obliged to appear P 
 His jaw fell, and his wife's eyes sparkled. 
 
 ** Doar, I wouldn't eren have let you know she was 
 here— yon shouldn't have beeii interrupted for a single 
 instant— if Mrs. Yenables wasn't clamouring to see yoo. 
 And really l^htg^n to clamour too ; for she is fbll of 
 some mysterious news, which she won't tell me till 
 you are there to hear it also. Be an angel, foi fiTe 
 minutes i" 
 Woodgate wiped his pen In his deliberate way. 
 **Ph>bably one of the girb is engaged," said he; <*if 
 so I hope it's SybU." 
 
 <*No, Sybil is here too; «nc doesn't look a bit 
 eng ged, but rather bored, as though she had heard 
 the story several timec abeady, whatever it may be 
 Ihey have certainly paiJ several calls. Now you look 
 quite nic^ so in you come." 
 
 Mrs. VenaUes, a stout but comely lady, with a 
 bright brown eye, and a face full of character and 
 ability, opened fire upon the vicar as soon as they had 
 shaken hands, while her daughter looked wistfully at 
 the nearest books. 
 
 ** He is married ! " c Jed Mr^ Yenables, beginning in 
 the mUdle like a modem novelist 
 
A CHANGE OF SCENE 
 
 106 
 
 "IndMa?"* rttnmad the iiwtter-of.f«ct clagxman, 
 with equal dinctncie— *« and who ii he ? ** 
 *• Your neighbour and your patron—Mr. Steel ! " 
 "Married f " repeated Mn. Woodgate, with tiemen- 
 doiM emphasia. ** Mr. Steel f "* 
 
 •*Thii ia newi I " declared her husband, as though he 
 had expected none worthy of the name. And they 
 both demanded ftirther particulars, at which Mn. 
 Venables shook her expensive bonnet with great relish. 
 "Do you know Mr. Steel so well— so much better 
 than we do— and can you ask for particulars about 
 anything he em does? His marriage," continued 
 Birs. Venables, "like everytiiing else about him, is 
 * wrop in mystery,' as one of those vulgar creatui«s 
 says in Dickens, but I really foiget which. It was 
 never announced in tiie Ttmet; for tiiat I can vouch 
 myself. Was ever anything more like him, or less 
 like anybody else? To disappear .>r six months, and 
 then turn up with a wife ! "* 
 
 "But has he turned up?" cried the vicar*, young 
 vrife, forgetting for a moment a certain preoccupation 
 caused by tiie arrival of tiie tea-tray, and by a rapid 
 resignation to the thickness of the bread and butter 
 and the distressing absence of such hot things as would 
 have been in readiness if Mrs. Venables had been 
 expected for a single moment It showed the youth 
 of Moma Woodgate tiiat she should harbour a wish 
 to compete with tiie wealtiiiest woman in the neigh- 
 bourhood, even in tiie matter of afternoon tea, and 
 
• f ■ 
 
 i! 
 
 KM 
 
 THE SHADOW OP ITIE HOPE 
 
 W IwrfiBg th.t n. »d, thought ^ ^^1,^ ^ ^ 
 clear-cut open-air fiue. « "" m ner 
 
 . toL'Ci'T^ "i'*'"? '''^* ">" -^ ^ ^> to 
 
 Nor « It the CM, to my knowledge," rejoinrf 
 Mr.. Venabl.., "but fio™ dl we hear tt^, 1^=1. 
 tt. «« any moment The, were marted inT^ 
 
 a^rz.-;:::'""^-^-""'---^-" 
 
 "If he «,,, i„„- obMrved the vicar, with mUd 
 l.«n.«.r«.t„ probably true. He ought to know - 
 And who wa, .he?" hi. young wife ..ked wifl. 
 
 "My dear Mr.. Woodgate," .aid M«. Ve«.bK 
 iTt^tte 'Z""' -en a* , Who wa, d,e, indeeT^ 
 
 who, by the way, w«, your friend Mr. Langhohn , but 
 he knew no more than the man in the moon." 
 
 And who told Mr. Langholm, of all people?" 
 pur,u«l Morn. Woodgate. «It i, not often^ „ 
 get new. of the real world fn>m him < " 
 
 "Bird, of a feather," remarked her caller: "it 
 wa. Mr. Steel himself who wrote to your „th« 
 «o»tec fnend „d told him neither more nor ,» 
 thm I have told you. He wa, married in Italy iZ 
 
 2Tft ?:J r' *^' *"™-"" "» the montt-^ 
 alone the hdy'. name— if, indeed— " 
 
 05- -1 :'m..X^'*'^' 
 
 W^'i.W 
 
A CHANGE OP SCENE ]05 
 
 « I imagine Ae i. . hdy - ^d the vie to hi. t«. 
 « You «e „ eWitrf,.., de.. Mr. W«dg.ter:f ** 
 "»P« I •«>." he «dd .imply. "iTZ^T. T 
 
 Stll'S!;;;''" ^™ ■"'" '^y -t^ about Mr. 
 
 A«d the bright brown ejre. of Mr.. Ven.ble. ™- 
 
 ^«ai^e,„ the, pinned Hugh ^:S;r^ 
 
 "I h^ your p«don,-Mid that downright «r«m. 
 « I kno» . great deal about Mr. Steel ^V^ ' 
 •n imn,en» «„ount for the p^^.„ *" ''"" 
 
 »'-'-»• *» -i-i for theS^e;. ""srrr 
 
 few who would do the half „f what M, «^ u J^ 
 --u.ugthe.ortti^ehl'^Ltef-tt! 
 
 omitted to let hi. hght Ai^e bef„„ „« ^l ""' 
 not telling u. who or what he JZ^u * *^' '" 
 or how he m«le hi, money." ^' ""' ""^ 
 
 ^ Hugh Woodgate gave the half boyid, h.,f 
 bashful Uugh with which he wa. w„„7» ^'f'''^ 
 mort candid «,ing, °* *" P"**"* 1^ 
 
 J^Am 1 dont think if. .n, bu-mc of our^- t. 
 Morn went a trifle browner th«, *. naturally w„ , 
 
106 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 her husband said so little that what he did wy was 
 often almost painfully to the point ; and now Mrs. 
 Venabks had turned from him to her, with a smile 
 which the young wife disliked, for it called attention to 
 the vicar's discourtesy while it appealed to herself for 
 prettier manners and better sense. It was a moment 
 requiring some little tact, but Mrs. Woodgate was just 
 
 equal to it. 
 
 "Hugh, how rude of you!" she exdaimed, with 
 only the suspicion of a smile. **You forget that it's 
 your duty to be friendly with everybody; th' 's no 
 such obligation on anybody else.'' 
 
 «I should be friendly with Mr. Steel," said Hugh, 
 *<duty or no duty, after what he has done for the 
 
 parish." 
 
 And his pleasant honest face and smile did away 
 with the necessity for a set apology. 
 
 «I must say," added his wife to hor visitor, "that 
 it's the same with me, you know." 
 
 There was a pause. 
 
 "Then you intend to call upon her?" said Mrs. 
 Venables, coming with directness to an obviously 
 premeditated point 
 
 "I do— I must— it is so different with us," said the 
 vicar's young wife, with her pretty brown blush. 
 
 ••Certainly," added the vicar himself^ with dogmatic 
 emphasis. 
 
 Mrs. Venables did not look at him, but she looked 
 the harder at Moma instead. 
 
A CHANGE OF SCENE 107 
 
 •*WeU,« said Ae, «I suppose you aie right In 
 your position-yes— your position is quite diflferent!" 
 And the sudden, half accidental turn of her sentence 
 put Mrs. Venables on good terms with herself once 
 more; and so she rose aU smiles and velvet. "Na 
 not even half a cup ; but it was really quite delicious • 
 and I hope youll come and see me soon, and teU m^ 
 all about her. At his age!" she whispered as she 
 went « At sixty-five— if he's a day ! " 
 
 A stranger would have imagined that this Udy had 
 quite decided not to caU upon the newcomer hewelf ; 
 even Mrs. Woodgate was uncertain of her neighbour's 
 intention as the Litter's wheels ground the Vicamge 
 drive once more, and she and her husband were left 
 alone. 
 
 « It will depend upon the county," said she; "and 
 Mrs. Venables is not the county pure and simple, 
 she's half Nori^borough still, (u, 1 shell teke her cue 
 fiom the Invernesses and the Uniackes. But I do 
 believe she's been round the whole countrywide, getting 
 people to say they won't call; as if it mattered to a 
 man like Mr. Steel, or any woman he is likely to have 
 chosen. Still, it is mysterious, isn't it? But what 
 business of ours, as you say ? Only, dear, you needn't 
 have said it quite so pointedly. Of course 111 call as 
 won as I can m decency; she may let me be of use 
 to her. Oh, bother Mrs. Venables! If she doesn't 
 <aU, no doubt many others won't ; you must remember 
 that he has never entertained as yet Oh, what a 
 
106 THE SHADOW OF THE ROFE 
 
 dance they could give ! And did you hetf vwhat she 
 said about his age ? He is sixty-five, now ! "* 
 
 The vicar lauded. It was h» habit to let his 
 young wife rattle on when they were alone, and even 
 lay down the law for him to her heart's content; but, 
 though fifteen years her senior, and never a vivacious 
 man himself, there was much m their life that he saw 
 in the same light as she did, though never quite so 
 soon. 
 
 "Sixty-five!" he suddenly repeated, wi+H a fresh 
 chuckle; «,and last year, when Sybil was thought to 
 be in the running — ^poor Sybil, how well she took it ! 
 •—last year her mother told me she knew for a fact 
 he was not a day more than five-and-forty ! Poor 
 Steel, too! He has done for them both in that 
 quarter, I am afraid. And now,"" added Hugh, in his 
 matter-of-fact way, as though they had been discusshig 
 theology all this time, " I must go back to my sermon 
 if I am to get it done to-night.^ 
 
CHAPTER X 
 
 A SU6BT msCBXPAHCT 
 
 Wu. WooDaATE pdd the promfaed caU a few d.™ 
 Uter, walking briskly by bLu aloiTthe Zj^ 
 
 to NonB«,thoT» Hou.e, and cutti., . veJ.tt2 
 2^-0^ the rfuo^ering «ghb' .Jl^^ 
 
 tte tr.«. She TO rather tali, and «,y rtMight. with 
 th. pale brown .kin «,d the daA bjwn^ wM^ 
 n-or. eepedally when «««i.ted with Z « iiJl^t 
 M«™ Woodgate-., go to n»ke np one of tte '.^ 
 ^bg and ditinctiv. t,pe. of E^ Ith:^ 
 
 wTZTh ^ "^ ""^^ "" g«.d b«te to d«. 
 »eU, but the good «nse not to dress too weU lZ 
 «e- coat and skirt had j„.t c„n,e homT „d &1 
 
 e,«dp«fechon. Moma thought that die might e«n 
 goto church m the «.t and skirt, now «rf JI^ 
 «rf ^ T""' ««»'•» l""! • brown rt»wT^ 
 Pe^. r*"" "' «» >^' ' «>-Je which *r™^^ 
 P««harly her own; but this d« h«l discarfed « to» 
 
 109 
 
110 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 grand for an informal call, for Hugh had been sum- 
 moned to a sick-bed at the last moment, and might 
 be detained too late to follow. But the Steels had 
 been back two days, and Moma could not wait another 
 hour. 
 
 She was certainly consumed with curiosity ; but that 
 was not the only feeling which Mrs. Woodgate enter- 
 tained towards the lady who was to be a nearer 
 neighbour of her own sex and class *han any she could 
 count as yet. On the class question Moma had no 
 mii^Tings; nevertheless, she was prepared for a sur- 
 prise. Qpth she and her husband had seen a good 
 deal of Mr. SteeL Moma had perhaps seen the best 
 of him, since she was at once young and charming, and 
 not even an unwilling and personally innocent candi- 
 date for his hand, like honest Sybil Venables. Yet 
 Moma herself was not more attracted than repelled 
 "^ by the inscmtable personality of this rich man dropped 
 from the douds, who had nevor a word to say about 
 his former life, never an anecdote to tell, never an 
 adventure to record, and of whom even Mrs. Venables 
 had not the courage to ask questions. What sort of 
 woman would such a man marry, and what sort of 
 woman would marry such a man ? Moma asked her- 
 self the one question after the other, almost as often 
 as she set her right foot in front of her left; but she 
 was not merely inquisitive in the matter, she had a 
 secret and instinctive compassion for the woman who 
 had done this thing. 
 
 .»:.■ ;::iss' 
 
A SLIGHT DBCBEPANCY 
 
 111 
 Sbe wUl not have a inul f« «.« l 
 
 P<^ A cool Z!*'*'^'""'"" North 
 Iw mpH walk « T ^' Vicnige^ and warn, froa, - 
 
 i»to the loft, d™m„„Z„^^ ^""™ ''"«^ "^ » 
 
 ■»» to buUd in Weak „M n i "^ ''"' ' •"• 
 ««« -« anv Zr^^ K Del'erton, even before 
 
 "orth^t ^ :^t::f fii""" r '""' "» 
 
lis THE SHADOW OF THE ROFE 
 
 Though it was May, and wann enough fopr th« 
 month and place, Moma got up when the footman 
 had left her, and tbrutt one brown shoe after the 
 other as new as she could to the wood fire that 
 glimmered underneath the great, ornate, marble 
 mantelpiece. Then she sat down again, and 
 wondered what to say ; for Moma was at once above 
 and below the conversational average of her kind. 
 Soon she was framing a self-conscious apology for 
 premature Intrusion — Mrs. Steel was so long in coming. 
 But at last there was a rustle in the conservatory, and 
 a slender 'figure in a big Iiat stood for an ins*'ant on 
 the threshold. 
 
 That was Monufs first impression of the new mistress 
 of Normanthorpe, and it was never erased from her 
 mind: a slender silhouette in an enormous hat, the 
 light all behind her, the pilastered doorway for a 
 frame, a gay backgrom.d of hothouse flowers, and in 
 the figure itself a nervous hesitancy which struck an 
 immediate chord of sympathy in Moma. She also 
 was shy ; the touch of imperfect nature was mutually 
 discernible and discerned ; and the two were kin from 
 the meeting of their hands. 
 
 Moma began her apology, nevertheless ; but Rachel 
 cut it very short ** My dear Mrs. Woodgate, I think 
 it is so kind of you ! "" she exclaimed, her low voice 
 full of the frankest gratitude ; and Moma was surprised 
 at the time ; it was as though «he were the rich man's 
 wife, and Mrs. Steel the vicar's. 
 
A 8U0HT DISCREPANCV 
 
 IIS 
 
 n«ghbo«r>. bee, wi.t ,ith ]«, ^'Z 'T 
 P«iti«. of th. Chi, which M^sClltLd"",": 
 for th« few n,u,„te^ .fer UutZfalt^^^ 
 th.g«.t« co-taunt w«on the o«^ „,^ Z'^'"' 
 th»;n .t once A. «.n.eSt C, it^J-.'-' 
 tapoUvdy. « though the greet ^' '. f"""« 
 
 Itdhn tile. «rf the%.^h ^ fc t ' '^"' "" 
 
 .. , .„ ^ , g«ri»n gilt furniture, struck i:li« 
 
 ««^e chiU to her as to Moma before her. * 
 
 Come round the warden'* «{^ u i . 
 "I «n delighted wiuTl T ^'^' ''"''"y- 
 «.liy «nne* ^„t nte^"' •»" ' think it. 
 
 It w« Tj mi. T ■*"• """'■"fcrtable hou«. 
 
 reached Ua em n..„ ^ ™™ • """">« 
 
 ^^ !«.««, there w« ao «d foundation fo, the 
 
 The dueal botanirt had left beh.-^ ui »i. 
 conation of plent. «,d treL^f ? 5'."~* 
 «ien«fic geHe^ing whil t?„„rbl1^: L" 
 -^> .t «. n^I«t«l No™.nthon« tS wT^,^ 
 
114 THE SHADOW OP THE ROPE 
 
 the UUes and replenished the greenhooMs of seats 
 more faroured by the fiunily; and all this was tht 
 mora wonderful as a triumph of art over tome natural 
 disadvantages in thi %y of soil and climate. Tha 
 Normanthorpe roses, famous throughout the north of 
 England, were as yet barely budding in the kindlcss 
 wind; tlra blaae of early bulbs was over; but there 
 were the curious alien trees, and the ornamental v»ten 
 haunted by outlandish wildfowl, bred there oc the same 
 principle of acclimatisation. 
 
 "I eznect you know the way quite well,"* caid 
 Rachel, as they followed a wmding path over a bank 
 of rhododendrons near the lake ; ** to me every stroll 
 is stiU a voyage of exploration, and I shall be rither 
 sorry when I begin to know exactly what I am going 
 to see next Now, I have never been this way before, 
 and have no idea what is coming, so you mustn^t tell 
 me, if you know. What a funny scent ! I seem to know 
 it, too. Why, what have they got here ? " 
 
 On the further side of the bank of rhododendrons 
 the path had descended into a sheltered hollow, screened 
 altogether from the colder winds, and, evea in this 
 temperate month of May, a very trap for the after- 
 noon sun. In this hollow grew a clump of attenuated 
 trees, with drooping leaves of a lacklustre hue, and a 
 white bark peeling from the trunk ; a pungent aroma, 
 more medicinal than sylvan, hung rathor heavily over 
 the sequestered spot. 
 
 Radiel stood a moment with wide nostrils and 
 
 JBT' MK 
 
A SLIGHT DISCBEPANCY 
 
 11« 
 
 "^ ^J ^•Jook luudlj l^tod longer. «d di. 
 -M no «io«; but rf« w« .wi« that Mori2 
 "^« •»»• •Mwer to her question. 
 
 poHiiJUwrtor'"^^"^^^^-^*-^ 
 
 ^I jaid they irero blue gum. from Au.traliiu- 
 R«Ael m«ie no immediate comment; .ecretire 
 t "«^* 1-^ to be, but to . delibe,*; !^;' 
 
 "Iiuleedr but me«ly, after a p^^ u^^ "^' 
 
 and of their hutory as thej walked. 
 
 •*!?'• laughed Moma. «I only wish I was- but 
 I happ«i to remember Mr. Steel 4ing meXl ol 
 day when we were here last summer" 
 
 Rachel opened her eyes again, and her Kd. wifK 
 them; but instead of .nJfinJ T ^ *" 
 
 «_ i "peakmg she went to the 
 
 nearest gum-tree and picked a spray of thri^ 
 lustre leaves "I «t« ♦u „ . ^ ^'^^ '•*'''■ 
 
 '*»^«*- i hke the smeU of them." she uM 
 
 f they went on; and the litUe incident ll^ 
 impression upon Moma's mind. °^ 
 
 Yet presently »he pereeived that M«. Steel had 
 xwne colour after aII .f *k- ^"* 
 
 ^^S5W|PS^!8H«|^ 
 
 ;<iaa, iV«0F'Tr',vss- 
 
 ^»WV»AinL\l%>' 
 
m 
 
 m n 
 
 110 THE SHADOVir OF THE ROPE 
 
 narrow pfttht, whil* her large hat had fuj^iMad « 
 perpetual shadow of iti own. It wae a pathette habit, 
 whk^ had become lecond nature with Bachel during 
 the last six mmiths ; but now, for once, it waa for> 
 gotten, and her face raited unguardedly to the tun, 
 which painted it in iti true and tweet colours, to 
 Moma't turpriae and real delight The Yicar*t wife 
 waa (me of thote healthy-hearted young women who 
 ata the first to admire their own tez ; the had ray 
 nuuiy friends among women, for whom mai-riage had 
 not damped an enthusiasm which she hid from no 
 (me but tnemselves; and she was to prove sufficiently 
 enthusiastic about the thin but perfect oval of 
 Rachers face, the soft sweet hasel of her eyes, the 
 impetuous upper lip and the brave lower one, as she 
 saw them now for an fur^tint in tbe afternoon 
 
 Moreover, die was already interested in Rachel <m 
 her own account, and not only as the wife of the 
 mysterious Mr. Steel There was an undoubted air 
 of mystery about her also; but that might only be 
 derived from him, and with all her reserve she oould 
 not conceal a sweet and sympathetic self from one as 
 like her in that essential as they were different in all 
 others. Not that the reserve was all on (me side. 
 M<niia Woodgate had her own secrets to(». One of 
 them, however, was extracted during their stroll. 
 
 ** May I make a personal remark ? ** asked Rachel, 
 who had been admiring the pale brown frtce of Mozna 
 
 »«MBWBi*IrS« 
 
 W g| jW l^li i S ' tfH 
 
A 8UOHT DISCREPANCT m 
 
 JSri^ """"' ^ '^^ '- "-.w. 
 
 "ao, tlieyW my own colleg. coloum- 
 lUchd itood ttO] on the gr... 
 
 nJ-^r ^2 "' '"" "'°"'<''''' >»" thought it of 
 ".^ d» .ddrf, " „d don't My ,.„ ,ouId . - 
 
 iwaiel an.wM»d with a flattering itare "A„J j- 
 
 wa. Z Ti """^ *"'™' ""- 'P""™ Engli.h 
 ". l^no mewi. „„d,filed. Bat it turned out to 
 
 ^iHouittounde^^J-^^'/J^o™ 
 
f\ 
 
 118 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 •uch distinguished attainments could be content to 
 hide her light under the bushel of a country vicarage ; 
 and Rachel could not resist some expression of her 
 wonderment on that point. 
 
 «Did you do nothing with it all," she asked, 
 '* before you married ? " 
 
 "No," said Moma; "you see, I got engaged in the 
 middle of it, and the week after the lists came out we 
 were married." 
 
 ** What a career to have given up f " 
 
 "I would give it up again," said Moma, with a 
 warmer blush; and Rachel was left with a deeper 
 envy. 
 
 "I am afraid we shall have nothing in common," 
 sighed Mrs. Steel, as they neared the house. « I have 
 no education worthy the name." 
 
 Moma waxed all but indignant at the implication ; 
 she had a morbid horror of being considered a "blue- 
 stocking," which she revealed with much girlish 
 naivete and unconscious simplicity of sentiment and 
 phrase. She was not so narrow as all that; she 
 had had enough of learning; she had forgotten all 
 that she had leamt; any dolt could be crammed 
 to pass examinations. On the contrary, she was 
 quite sure they would have heaps in common; for 
 example, she was longing for some one to bicycle 
 with ; her husband seldom had the time, and he did 
 not care for her to go quite alone in the country 
 roads. 
 
A SLIGHT DISCREPANCY 119 
 
 «But I don't bicycV said Mra. Steel, shaking her 
 
 « Ah, 1 forf(ot ! People who ride and drive never do." 
 ;>.nd it wa Moma's turn to sigh. 
 "No, i sLould like it; but 1 have never tried." 
 «ni teach you!" cried Moma at once. "What 
 fun it will be!" 
 
 « I should enjoy it, I know. But " 
 
 The sentence was abandoned, as was often the case 
 in the subsequent intercourse between Rachel Steel and 
 Moma Woodgate; from the beginning, Rachel was 
 apt to be more off her guard with Moma than with 
 any one whom she had met during the kst six months ; 
 from the beginning, she was continually remembering 
 and stopping herself in a manner that would have 
 irritated Moma in anybody else. But then— yet 
 again, from the beginning— these two were natural 
 and immediate friends. 
 
 "You must leam," mged Moma, when she had 
 waited some time for the sentence which had but 
 begun. "There are people who scom it— or pretend 
 to-4)ut I am sure you are not one. It may not be 
 the finest form of exercise, but wait till you fly down 
 these hills with your feet on the rests ! And then you 
 are so independent ; no horses to consider, no coach- 
 man to consult ; only your own bones and your own 
 
 sweet will I The independence alone " 
 
 "May be the veiy thing for you, Mm Woodgate, 
 but it wouldn't do for my wife I" 
 
laO THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 Mr. Steel had stolen a silent march npon them, on 
 the soft smooth grass ; and now he was teking off his 
 straw hat to Moma, and smiling with all urbanity as 
 he held out his hand. But Moma had seen how his 
 wife started at the sound of his voice, and her greeting 
 was a little cool. 
 
 «*I meant the bicycKng," he was quick enough to 
 add. "Not the independence, of course ! " 
 
 But there was something sinister in his smile, some- 
 thing quite sinister and yet not unkindly, that vexed 
 and puzzled Moma during the remainder of her visit, 
 which she cut somewhat short on perceiving that Mr. 
 Steel had apparently no intention of leaving them to 
 their own devices after tea. Moma, however, would 
 have been still more puzzled, and her spirit not less 
 vexed, had she heard the first words between the newly- 
 married couple after she had gone. 
 
 "What's that you have got."" asked Steel, as they 
 turned back up the drive, after seeing Moma to her 
 woodland path. Rachel was still carrying her spray of 
 gum-leaves ; he must have noticed it before, but this 
 was the first sign that he had done so. She said at once 
 what it was, and why she had pulled it from the tree. 
 
 "It took me back to Victoria; and, you know, I 
 was bom there." 
 
 Steel looked narrowly at his wife, a hard gleaia in 
 his inscmtable eyes, and yet a lurking sympathy too; 
 nor was there anything but the Utter in the tone and* 
 tenor of his reply. 
 
A SLIGHT DISCREPANCY l«i 
 
 «I don^t forget," he said, "and I think I cm 
 
 understand; but neither must you forget that I offered 
 
 to tdce you back there. So thatW .prig of gum-ti^,, 
 IB n r 
 
 Radiel gave him a sudden glance, which for once he 
 imssed, being absorbed in a curious examination of the 
 leaves* 
 
 « Did you never see one befoi« ? " she asked 
 
 « A gum-tree?" said Steel, without looking up, «« 
 
 he sniffed and scrutinised. "Never in aU my lifelto 
 
 my knowledge ! " 
 
 •• ^yj ~ ' 
 
»! 
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 ANOTHEB MKW FDIKNO 
 
 The county folk did call upon the Steels, as, indeed, 
 they could scarcely fail to do, ha' ing called on him 
 already as a bachelor the year before. Nor were the 
 Uniackes and the Invernesses the bell-wethers of the 
 flock ; those august families had returned to London 
 for the season ; but the taboo half suggested by Mrs. 
 Venables had begun and ended in her own mind. 
 Indeed, that potent and diplomatic dame, who was 
 the undoubted leader of society within a four-mile 
 radius of Northborough town-hall, was the first *o 
 recognise the mistake that she had made, and to 
 behave as though she had never made it Quite early 
 in June, the Steels were bidden to a dinner-party m 
 their honour at Upthorpe Hall. 
 
 "Mrs. Venables!'' cried Rachel in dismay. "Is 
 that the gushing woman with the quiet daughters 
 who called last Thursday ?" 
 
 " That is the lady," said Steel, a gleam of humour 
 in his grim eyes. H-^ never expressed an opinion to 
 his wife about any of their neighborrs, but when she 
 
 122 
 
ANOTHER NEW FRIEND ijw 
 
 let faU an impre«ion of her own, he would look at 
 
 l7^ f L*^; "u.*^'"«^ '■' "'^ *^° ^'^ one that 
 he had formed for himself a year ago 
 
 an!!"* ""^ ""' "^P*^" ^"^^ ^^«J» '^ith open 
 apprehension. "^ 
 
 " I think «o," he laid. " Why not ? - 
 
 at "tit f""'^^' °f *" "■'"g" The" i. no «,«, 
 at the Wtable, y„„ can't even .ear a hat, you 
 
 Baehel Auddered. " Oh. don't let u, g» ! " .he 4™) , 
 but her tone wa, neither pathetic nor den»iZ 
 though free from the faintest accent of affection. It 
 was nev^^dfes. the tone of a woman who h.. Z 
 always been denied. 
 
 «I am afraid we must go," he said firmly, but not 
 unkmdly. "You see, it is in our honour, as I hapl 
 to know, for Venables gave me a hint when iTet 
 him in the town the ether day. He is sure to take 
 you in himself." 
 
 "And what is he like?" 
 
 sllZ^ "^-^'i *"""''' ^' ^""'* ^°"7 you," said 
 Ste4 reassunngly. « Nor need you «ally bother your 
 
 head about dl that any more. Nobody has recognised 
 
 you yet; nobody is in the least likely to do so down 
 
 Here. Don't you see how delightfully provincial they 
 
 are? There s a local lawyer, a pillar of all the virtue^ 
 
 who has misappropriated his own daughter-in-la^ 
 
 mamage portion and fled the country with the 
 
 pnnapal boy in their last pantomime; there are a lot 
 
If* THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 of smart young fellows who are making a sporting 
 thousand every other day out of iron warrants; the 
 district's looking up after thirty years' bad times, and 
 this is the sort of thing it's talking about These are 
 its heroes and its villains. All you hear from London 
 is what the last man spent when he was up, and 
 where he dined; and from all I can gather, the 
 Tichbome trial made less impression down here than 
 that of a Delverton parson who got into trouble about 
 the same time.** 
 
 "They must have heard of my trial," said Rachel, 
 m a low voice. They were walking in the grounds 
 after breakfast, but she looked round before speaking 
 at alL 
 
 "They would glance at it," said Steel, with a shrug; 
 "an occasional schoolboy might reiid it through; but 
 even if you were guilty, and were here on view, you 
 would command much less attention than the local 
 malefactor in an infinitely smaller way. I am sorry I 
 put it quite like that," added Steel, as Rachel winced, 
 "but I feel cravinced about it, and only wish I could 
 convince you." 
 
 And he did so, more or less; but the fear of 
 recognition had increased in Rachel, instead of abat- 
 ing, as time went on. It had increased especially 
 smoe the rapid ripening of her acquaintance with 
 Moma Woodgate into the intimacy which already 
 subsisted between the two young wives. Rachel had 
 told her husband that she would n<A have Moma 
 
 ■.'*'lfeJ>VE«iw*^^-Ki»vfvs^!fc; -'H'-i^- mtm 
 
ANOTHER NEW FRIEND lu 
 
 b»- for «^i„g, „d i. ^ .pp^ ^ ^ 
 
 *^ «^ to .j-a,paUu« with . .oIidt„de which w« 
 ».re ».tu»I Uum nece».ry, but th.t w« p^" 
 
 «ccom.t And .0 rare w« that approval, „.po«ti™ 
 «d known q„«,ut,. yet „ n^Z in tki, ^,Slt 
 he^u.u.1,, contrive! to .ha. Moma". so^ty^i^Z 
 
 "You .hall not monopolire Mrs. Woodgate- he 
 r^ „, w«h aU urbanity „ he joined the. 'wh™ 
 l^^^^expeeted. -I wa. fi„t in the field, you 
 
 command^ no w.d,e. to obey in the matter, no 
 
 n.b«Ko upon the comtog. .„d going, between ~ 
 
 two new friend.. But Mr. Steel invariably appeared 
 
 rt to th eld^ly bridegroom-, jealou. tofituation for 
 
 JA«y.u going?"a.ked Rachel, eagerly, who, d,e 
 «d Mom. met again , indeed, .he had gone exp,e«I, 
 tothe V.c«.ge to a.k the quertion, «,d not Zi Z 
 b^ ««n the Woodgate.- invitation couid Steel MnJZ 
 mducs her to answer theira. ^^ 
 
 The Woodgate. were going. Moma wa. Jr«rfv 
 mjtemate fit. of Hesp.!, „a of idea. .boTto 
 
 "I widi I might dte» you ! - «id Rachel, knowing 
 
 f •«iEyawfc:''ff'^Bri 
 
If6 THE SHADOW OF THE HOPE 
 
 her well enough «h»ady to lay that. "I b&ye wwd- 
 robes full of them, and yet my husband insists upon 
 taking me up to London to get something fit to 
 wear.** 
 
 ** But not necessarily on your back ! "* cried Steel 
 himself, appearing at that moment in his usual way, 
 warm, breathless, but only playfully put out ** My 
 dear Mrs. Woodgate, I must have a special wire 
 between your house and ours. One thing, however, 
 I always know where to find her ! Did she tell y<m 
 we go by t^e 12.36 fix>m Northborough ?" 
 
 It was something to wear upon her neck : a diamond 
 necklet of superb stones, gradually swelling to one of 
 the first water at the throat ; and Rachel duly wore it 
 at the dinner-party, with a rich gown of bridal white, 
 whose dazzling purity had perhaps the effect of can- 
 celling the bride's own pallor. But she was very pale. 
 It was her first appearance at a gathering of the kind, 
 not only there in Delverton, but anywhere at all since 
 her second marriage. And the invitation had been of 
 the correct, most ample length ; it had had time to 
 wind itself about Rachers nerves. 
 
 Mr. Venables, who of course did take her in, by 
 no means belied her husband's description of him ; he 
 was a rotund man with a high complexira, and his 
 bulgbg eye was on the menu before his soft body had 
 sunk into his chair. His conversation proved limited, 
 but strictly to the point ; he told Rachel what to eat, 
 and once or twice what to avoid ; lavidied Impenonal 
 
ANOTHER NEW FBIEND \tt 
 
 Pf^ upon on dUh, toputUl criticten apoa another 
 -Hi only .pole. bet,«„ „.. «,„«. It'::L"Z.' 
 Wparty, t,«,ty-„„ „t down. lUcbd w«t 
 >«t di,«n to gUndng ,t the other twenty. 
 
 •econd, Badiel had chmcd to etch right of th. aud 
 opon which hi. n«„e Ud been in«rib^. oTt^t 
 •~n.ed, .Mr. Ung^n, i «id .U at «,« Julll^l 
 b«k„d looked at hin.. He wa. a W L W 
 ~und.Aodde«d „^. with a fine open counten.n« 
 «d a gr«t duorderly moustache, hi. hair might^^ 
 been 4^ „a hU dre-^t d.o„e where iflgh 
 thehght IUcl»Iputthe«,ewup«.her«n.r.g^*" 
 Tl,e.e ard.,'- J,. «ua, ^u, , „ of hToId 
 
 ~te»I Jdf, "an, ,e,y h««ly wh« .rhamT^ 
 mtoojuc^l. W n«ne i, not ve.7 common, i. it^^ 
 . v' J"^' '" ""'"«'. " "pelt like that- 
 
 "Itii" 
 
 "Then are you any relation ?» 
 
 a uT.'^r' ^^'^' "^ ^^'"''"'' -ri* quit, 
 a h«rty Ungh, accompanied by a Bud, of ple«u»bl. 
 
 -mto 1^ Ad not happen to bin, every Lj 
 
 ^I^/ZZl'^' ^ -^ '^^P^ 
 
IJW THE SHADOW OF THE POPE 
 
 ! 
 
 ••Then you h^vetCt read my bookn,'* he chuckled, 
 *• and you never rouat.** 
 
 "But I have," protested Rachel, quite flushed in her 
 turn by the small excitement ** I read heaps of them 
 in Tauchnitz when we were abroad. But I had no 
 idea that I should ever meet you in the flesh ! " 
 
 « Really ? " he said. « Then that's funnier stiU ; but 
 I suppose Mr. Steel didn't want to frighten you. We 
 saw quite a lot of each other last year ; he wrote to me 
 from Flor^ce before you came over; and I should 
 have paid my respects long ago, but I have been up in 
 town, and only just come back." 
 
 Hie flush had died out of Rachel's face. Her 
 husband told her nothing — nothing ' In her indigna- 
 tion she was tempted to say so to this stranger ; she 
 had to think a moment what to say instead. A false- 
 hood of any sort was always a peculiar difficult} 
 Rachel, a constitutional aversion, and it cost her an 
 effort to remark at last that it was very stupid of her, 
 she had quite forgotten, but now she remembered->of 
 course ! And with that she turned to her host, who 
 was propounding an opinion across his empty plate. 
 
 " Strange thing, Mn.. Steel, but you can't get the 
 meat in the country that you can in town. Hiose 
 fillets, now ! I wish you could taste 'em at my London 
 dub ; but we give our sheff a thousand a year, and he 
 drives up every day in his brougham." 
 
 The novels of Charles Langholm were chiefly remark- 
 able for their intricate plots, and for the hope of 
 
ANOTHEH NEW FRIEND 
 
 b.tt«r th.„ hi. „tttar, wLTl- """"^ "*■ 
 «• Mid by the lilcr.,^ 7 '""■Wn'o"' poH.h 
 
 b«ng. J f«.„tu7th^ sr"tt' "*■*""" *""■ 
 
 tte litUe »riH~ A . **" S™* public or 
 
 •f hi. ingenioH. n,y.teri» "*" " <»^ »• «lv. on, 
 
 "Not :.::",;:r^^^fr >--•*"'" 
 ^<i it toll :r.tttrt- T "'"' """••' »' «« 
 
 man of this type mL * •'^'^ «^""«- 
 
 whoa. I«gfc„ta h«i t.k«t^? T*" ^ 
 onlif ^j. 1. . ™ ™» *"" to whom he wa* 
 
180 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 lUrts, had not that latisfactioii ; for her right-hand 
 neighbour did not speak to her at all. Tliere waa 
 thus one cIom and critical follower of a convenaticm 
 which without warning took the one dramatic turn 
 for which Rachel was for ever on her guard ; only 
 this once, in an hour of unexpected entertainment, was 
 she not 
 
 ** How do I get my plots ? " said Langholm. 
 "Sometimes out of my head, as they say in the 
 nursery; occasionally from real life; more often a 
 blend of the two combined. You don't often get a 
 present from the newspaper that you can lift into 
 a magazine more or less as it stands. Facts are stub- 
 bom things ; they won't serialise. But now and then 
 there's a case. There was one a little time ago. Oh, 
 there was a great case not long since, if we had but the 
 man to handle it, without spoiling it, in English fiction ! " 
 
 "And what was that?" 
 
 **The Minchin case!** 
 
 And he looked straight at her, as one only looks at 
 one's neighbour at table when one is saying or hearing 
 something out of the common ; he turned half round, 
 and he looked in Rachel's face with the smile of an 
 artist with a masterpiece in his eye. It was an inevi- 
 table moment, come at last when least expected; 
 instinct, however, had prepared Rachel, just one 
 moment before; and after dl she could stare coldly 
 on his enthusiasm, without a start or a tremor to 
 betray the pose. 
 
ANOTHER NEW FRIEND wj 
 
 u A**^"!" *^ "^^' ^•^ ^""^ *J'**»"'^ «J»«d « KtUe. 
 ^nd^do you mdly think that would make a 
 
 It wa. characteristic of Rachel that «he did not for 
 « moment-even that unlooked-for moment-p«tend 
 to be unfamiliar with the case^ 
 
 "Don't you?" he asked. 
 
 "I haven't thought about it," M Rachel, lookinir 
 pensively at the flowers. "But su..ly it wL a very 
 sordid case ? " ^ « »ery 
 
 "The a«er he cried. "Yes, sordid as you like- 
 out 1 dont mean the case at all." * 
 
 "^en what do you mean, Mr. Langholm ?" 
 Her after lif^" he whispen^.; «the psychology of 
 that woman, and her subsequent adventures! She 
 dmppeared into thin air immediately after the trial 
 I "uppose you knew that?" 
 "I did hear it." 
 
 Racbd -oisten^l her lips with champagne. 
 WeU, I should take her from that moment," «ud 
 Langholm. « I should start her story there." 
 
 aui»^ «"d I^ngholm, as though that would re- 
 quu* consideration; unluckily, he paused to consider 
 
 ahlir^K Tf" ^^'""^ *^'^*^'' ^"^"'^ Mr. Ven- 
 ablej, who had caught Rachel's last words. 
 
 Mrs. Minchin," she told him, steadUy 
 -Mtyl" cried Mr. Venables, with giBat energy. 
 
 iMMiMMii 
 
I 
 
 ■ ii 
 
 m 
 
 laa THE SHADOW OF THE RpPE 
 
 <* Guilty, and I'd have gone to see her hanged 
 myself r 
 
 And Mr. Venables beamed upon Rachel as though 
 proud of the sentiment, while the diamonds rose and 
 fell upon her white neck, where he would have had the 
 rope. 
 
 "A greater scandal,"* he went on, both to Rachel 
 and to the lady on his other side (who interrupted 
 Mr. Venables to express devout agreement), "a greater 
 scandal tand miscan-iage of justice I have never known. 
 Guilty? Of course she was guilty; and I only wish 
 we could tiy her again and hang her yet ! Now don't 
 pretend you sympathise with a woman like that," he 
 said to Rachel, with a look like a nudge ; **you haven't 
 been married long enough; and for heaven's sake 
 don't refuse that bird ! It's the best that can be got 
 at this time of year, though that's not saying mudi ; 
 but wait till the grouse season, Mrs. Steel ! I have a 
 moor here in the dales, keep a cellar full of them, and 
 eat 'em as they drop off the string." 
 
 ''Well?" md Rachel, turning to Langholm when 
 her host becapt a busy man once more. 
 
 *^ I should make her guilty," said the novelist ; ** and 
 she would marry a man who believed in her innocence, 
 and he wouldn't care two pins when she tdd him the 
 truth in the last chapter, and they would live happily 
 ever lifterwards. Nobody would touch the serial rights. 
 But that would be a book ! " 
 
 ''Then do you think she really was guilty?" 
 
ANOTHER NEW FRIEND IM 
 
 Aiid Radid waited whUe he .hrugged, her heart 
 beating for no gpod reason that die knew, except that 
 »he rath«. hked Mr. Langholm, and did not wish 
 to oeaae liking him on the spot But it was to Wra 
 
 ^^i^LT-T """ ^'« ""'^ ^**«' »"d h« trifled 
 and daUied with the issue of the moment, litUe dream- 
 
 mg what a mark it was to leave upon his life, while 
 the paradox beloved of the literary took shape on his 
 tongue. 
 
 "What does it matter what she was? What do the 
 facts matter, Mrs. Steel, when one has an idea like 
 that for fiction ? Fiction is truer than fact P 
 
 **But you haven't answered my question." 
 
 Rach^' meant to have that answer. 
 
 « Oa, ireU, as a matter of fact, I read tiie case pretty 
 closely, and I was tiiankful tiie juiy brought in an 
 acqmttal. It required a little imagination, but the 
 truth always does. It is no treason to our host to 
 whisper tiiat he has none. I remember having quite 
 a heated alignment with him at tiie time. Oh, dear, 
 no; she was no more guilty tiian you or I; but ic 
 would be a tiiousand times more artistic if she were; 
 and I should make her so, by Jove ! '^ 
 
 Rachel finished her dinner in great tranquillity after 
 tks; but tiiere was a flush upon her face which had 
 not been tiiere before, and Langholm received an 
 astonishing smile when ihe ladies rose. He had been 
 making tardy atonement for his neglect of tiie aquiline 
 lady, but Rachel had the last word witii him. 
 
184 THE SHADOW OF THE |10PE 
 
 *» You will come and aee ub, won't you ?** she said. 
 " I shall want to hear how that plot works out" 
 
 **I am afraid it's one I cant afford to use," he 
 said, "unless I stick to foolish fact and make her 
 innocent." 
 
 And die left him with a wry face, her own glowing 
 again. 
 
 "You looked simply great— especially towards the 
 end," whispered Moma Woodgate in the drawing- 
 room, for she alone knew how nervous Rachel had been 
 about w&at was indeed her social d^but in Delrerton. 
 
 The aquiline lady also had a word to say. Her eyes 
 were like brown beads, and her nose very long, which 
 gave her indeed a hawk-like appearance, somewhat 
 unusual in a woman ; but her gravity was rather that 
 of the owL 
 
 ** You talked a great deal to Mr. Langholm," said 
 she, sounding her rebuke rather cleverly in the key of 
 mere statement of fiwst. « Have you read his books, 
 Mrs. Steel?" 
 " Some of them," said Rachel ; ** haven't you ? " 
 "Oh, no, I never read novels, unless it be Geoige 
 Eliot, or in these days Mrs. Humphry Ward. It's 
 audi waste of time when there are Browning, Ruskin, 
 and Carlyle to read and read again. I know I shouldn't 
 like Mr. Langholm's; I am sure they axe dreadfully 
 uncultured ai^ soisational." 
 
 " But I like sensation," Rachel said. " I like to be 
 taken out of myself." 
 
ANOTHER NEW FRIEND 
 
 185 
 
 «So yoQ suggested he should write a uovel about 
 Mrs. Minchin ! ^ 
 
 "No, I didn't suggest it," said Rachel, hurriedly; 
 but the beady brown eyes were upon her, and she felt 
 herself reddening horribly as she spoke. 
 
 "You seemed to know all about her,** said the 
 aquiline lady. "I am not in the habit of reading 
 sudli cases. But I must really look this one up." 
 
 mm^^gggm^^,. 
 
 -«3««M,^»^ 
 
* V 
 
 CHAPTER Xn 
 
 ■raODB OF THE imujMUL VUZTOK 
 
 That wa. wmething like a rommer, as the sayinir 
 ^ and tdt onoe they could say it even on the bleak 
 northern spurs of the Delverton Hills. There wet« 
 days upon days when that minor chain looked blue 
 and noble as the mountains of Alsace and hack- 
 neyed song, seen with an envious eye from the 
 fi^y outskurts of Northborough, and when from 
 tiie hiU. themselves the only blot upon the &ir 
 EngliA landscape was the paU of smoke that always 
 overhung the town. On such days Normanthoipe 
 House justified its existence in the north of England 
 uirtewi of in southern Italy; the marble haU, so chiU 
 to the tread at the end of May, was the one really 
 cool spot in the district by the beginning of July ; and 
 nowhere could a more delightful afternoon be spent by 
 th^who caredto avail themselves of a general invitation. 
 The Steels had not as yet committed themselves to 
 formal hospitality, of the somewhat showy character 
 that obtained in the neighbourhood, but they kept 
 open house for all who liked to come, and whom they 
 
 186 ^ 
 
EPISODE OP THE DmsiBLE VI8ITOH I« 
 
 IMr natoal t^Ong, towwd. «ch other we«^ 
 qa«t.ty »,hK,„ t. dth«, but .bout . tWrfXn 
 
 Uc^ whih Jl the tim. there w« not e«n the metMo. 
 of Ion between them. Thei, K™ „^. '^" 
 
 •aOBwu »ot «m bjr more th« two of thei, 
 
 «™ti» «rf the opportunitie. to «e , Ijtu, j., 
 tt. Und l.y between then. Ch«Ie. I«gh^ ^ 
 a. ei^Knce «rf the im.gin.tion to guTr^^ 
 
 l««hoIm'. «««. were „ rtde of the meri. J' J^ 
 a» gue-e. of «, im.giu.tiye m« au, C^ ".^1 
 dl the rert-h«,ert Hugh Woodmte t^ v \?^ 
 girl^ »d their (H«rf. tht jJ^^'i^J'^'^ 
 worl-. who «.w the old-ii^Led^Z^ " ^^'Zt 
 
 •* I wiA I could leam to t«at my wife as steel doe. 
 
188 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPR 
 
 his," sighed the good vicar, once when he had heen 
 inattentive at the table, and Morna had rebuked him 
 in fon. " That would be my ideal— if I wasn't too 
 old to learn r 
 
 " Then thank goodness you are,** rejoined his wife. 
 ** Let me catch you dancing in firont of me to open 
 the doors, Hugh, and I shall keep my eye on you as 
 Fve never kept it yet ! " 
 
 But Rad^el herself did not dislike these little graces, 
 partly because they were not put on to impress an 
 audience, but were an incident of their private life as 
 wdl; and partly because they stimulated a study to 
 which she had only given herself since their return to 
 England and their establishment at Normanthorpe 
 House. This was her study of the man who was still 
 calmly studying her; she was returning the com- 
 pliment at last. 
 
 And of his character she formed by degrees some 
 xemote conception ; he was Steel by name and steel by 
 nature, as the least observant might discern, and the 
 least witty remark; a grim inscrutability was his 
 dominant note; he was darkly alert, mysteriously 
 vigilant, a measurer of words, a governor of glances ; 
 and yet, with all his self-mastery and mastery of 
 others, there were human traits that showed themselves 
 from time to time as the months wore on. Bachel 
 did not recognise among these that studious considera- 
 tion which she could still appreciate ; it seemed rather 
 part of a preconceived method of treating his wife, and 
 
EPISODE OP THE INVISIBLE VISITOR m 
 
 the wary eye gleamed throngh it aU. But it h« been 
 
 wh^high hopes had been fonned by inexperienced 
 h T*^ ^" """^^ ** Normanthorpe that her second 
 husband became aware of her possession, one afternoon 
 when she fancied that she had the house to herself. So 
 two could play at the game of consistent concealment ! 
 He could not complain; it was in the bond, and he 
 nejrersaidaword. But he stood outside the window 
 tiU she was done, for Rachel saw him in a mh-ror, and 
 for many an afternoon to come he would hover outside 
 the same window at the same time. 
 
 aJI^^ ^^ ^t.^"^"^ *"*' ^ Did he ca,« for her, or 
 Ad he not ? What could be the object of that exlra- 
 ordina^ step? Rachel was as far from hitting upon 
 a feasible solution of these mysteries as she was ftom 
 penetrating the deeper one of his own past life. Some- 
 times she put the like questions to herself; but they 
 wwe more easily answered. She had been in desperate 
 rtmits, in reckless despair; even if her second marriaije 
 had turned out no better than her first, she could not 
 have been worse off than she was on the night of her 
 acquitW; but she had been very well off ever since. 
 Then there had been the incentive of adventure, the 
 fa^cmation of that very mystery which was a mystenr 
 stiU. And then~yes '-there had been the compelling 
 wiU of a nature infinitely stronger than her own or 
 any other that she had ever known. 
 Did she regret this second marriage, this second leap 
 
140 THE SHADOW OF THE ROFE 
 
 in the dark ? No, she could not honestly i»etend tiat 
 die did; yet it had its sofficiently sinister ode, its 
 occasional admixture of sheer horror. But this was 
 only when the mysteries which encompassed her hap- 
 pened to prey upon nerves unstrung by some outwudly 
 ''xciting cause ; it was then she would have given back 
 ail that he had ever given her, to pierce the veil of 
 her husband''s past Here, however, the Impulse was 
 mora subtle ; it was not the mere consuming curiosity 
 which one in Rachel^s position was bound to fed ; it 
 was rather ai longing to be convinced that that veil hid 
 nothing which should make her diudder to live under 
 the same kk^ with this man. 
 
 Of one thing she was quite ctrnfldent ; wherever her 
 husband had spent or misspent his life (if any part of 
 so successful a whole could really have hem misspoitX 
 it was not in England. He was un-English in a hundred 
 superficial ways— in none that cut deep. With all his 
 essoitial cynicism, there was the breadth and toteranoe 
 of a travelled man. Cosmopolitan, on the other hand, 
 he eouM not be called ; he had proved himself too poor 
 a linguist in every country that they had visited. It 
 was (wly now, in their home life, that Hachel received 
 hints of the truth, and it filled her with vague alarms, 
 for that seemed to her to be the last thing he need have 
 kept to himself. 
 
 One day she saw him ride a fractious horse, not 
 because he was fond of riding, but because nobody in 
 the tables could cope with this animaL Sted tamed 
 
EPISODE OP THE INVBffiLE VI8ITOB 141 
 
 the wMd . fl.d, of mem,^ Ut up !,„ bnrfn. All ,t 
 «" •he pMMmberrf the incident of the gum-l««. 
 
 "« fto thdr .rt,J, he b«l told Mom.%tat t^ 
 
 , 1^ "^ be »n«aed ftom h.,? Nor h.d it 
 
 B~^h^ ddab^td, „»,«,, „a the «.,, on. 
 
 SbM«. .tUl brooding over it when , ft»h inddait 
 .^T* ""di «r«d «,t only toconfim hermpicion. 
 M thi. r^ but to deepen »i intends the vwe 
 Wwl^ which he, hn.b«d.. p«». „.J1 
 
 Jfc Sted wa. « excepUoindly e«l, ri*r. ft «« 
 
 ^^'nf*^' •» «™ -« t to deep . «cond tin,., 
 •nd one of h» newert eppr^che. to . confidence wJ 
 
 ^.Tl , V *" "^ *""«^« *• tfc«t "-hit 
 aL^' :';"'"••'»<' -^P". kept qmt. . 
 drfR»at »t of hou^ „d w« «ldom «»a m,t^. 
 
 »«m»g. however, A, w« tempted to d««^n»ke 
 tte b"t of the day which Ae h«l w,td»d b^Aing 
 
 the biri. were anging „ they never ring twice 
 •he -Duld like to be up «d out before tte „n 
 
14« THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 WM ovopowering. And the proceeded to ftilfil hu 
 wiib. 
 
 All had been familiar from tie window ; all w$m 
 unfamiliar on the landing and \k^ stain. No <nie 
 had been down ; thu blinds were all drawn ; a dock 
 ticked Uke a sledge-hammer in the hall. Radiel ran 
 downstairs like a mouse, and almost into the attns 
 of her husband, whom she met coming out of the 
 dining-room with a loaded tray. Another would 
 ha*e dropped it; with Steel there was not so much 
 M a rattle of the things, but his colour changed, and 
 Rachel had not yet had such a look as he gave her 
 with his pursed mouth and his flashing eyes. 
 
 "What does this mean?" he demanded, in the tone 
 of distant thunder, with little le* than lightning in 
 his glance. 
 
 **I think that^s for me to i. k," laughed Rachel, 
 standing up to him with a nerve that surprised her- 
 wl£ ** I didn't know that you iMgan so early ! "* 
 
 A decanter and a glass were among the things upon 
 the tray. 
 
 " And I didn't know it of you," he retorted. ** Why 
 re you up?" 
 
 Rachel told him the simple truth in simple fashion. 
 His tone of voice did not hurt her; there was no 
 opposite extreme of tenderness to call to mind for 
 the contrast which inflicts the wound. On the other 
 hand, tha« was a certain satisfaction in having 
 for once ruffled th&c smooth mien and imoothgr 
 
EHSODE OP THE INVISIBLE VISITOR 148 
 
 "Not one of th. g«d«,e«, I hope?- „u,ried 
 
 "rf^jbng . 1„, „d ,ow .he knew him ,eU «.o„^ 
 to Mid hun thu. far in hit torn 
 
 B., no. not one of our men, or m^body eb. 
 Wo«gmg to U«e part.; bnt „me unlucky L^ 
 wh«n I imagme «me of our neighboun, wouM h«« 
 g.«n mto cu.tody forthwith. I found him «leen 
 " U» U™; of ««r« he h«i no burine- 1^ 
 ^ l»emi«.; but he-. «. fir gone th.t I'm tS 
 h,m „m.thmg to pull him together befo« I turf 
 him off." 
 
 foUy, that tea or coflfee would have been better for 
 him than tpirits." 
 
 Steel smiled indulgently across the tray. 
 
14* THE SHADOW OF THE BOPB 
 
 **And why didnt 70a bring hfaa into tht Imkm,* 
 pumied BadMl, lookii^^ h«r hmbud mj oudkllj 
 in tlM ftwe, **inrtM' of taldng him aU that waj to 
 the lake, and giving youndf to nradi more trcmUe 
 than riwi iiecemary P ** 
 
 The imlle broadened upon Steel^i thin lipi, perhi^ 
 becMiae it had entirelj Taniahed from his gUttering 
 ^ei. 
 
 ''lliat^'" said he, <*is a question you would soarcdy 
 ask if you had seen the poor creature for yourself. 
 I don*t intend you to see him; lie is a rather 
 saddening spectacle, <tDd one of a type for whidi 
 oat can do absolutely nothing permanent. And 
 now, if you are quite satisfied, I shall proceed, with 
 your permissimi, to get rid of him in my own 
 way." 
 
 It was seldom indeed that Steel descended to a 
 diqklay of sarcasm at Iiis wife^s expense^ though few 
 peo|^ who came much in contact with him esciqped 
 an occasi on al flick from a tongue that could be as 
 bitter as it was habitually smooth. His kst wends 
 wwe therefore as remarkable as his first; both were 
 exceptions to a rule ; and though Rachel moved away 
 without replying, feeling that there was indeed no 
 more to be said, she could not but dwell iqwn the 
 matter in her mind. Satisfied she certainly was 
 not; and yet there was so much mystery between 
 them, so many instinctive reservations up<m either 
 side, that every little circumstance of the lund could 
 
EWSODE OP THE INVISIBLE mWOR 145 
 due to mew force of habit 
 
 i.lA»hl. thought that .h. would vrfu. tohX^ 
 
 K^«. th. truth. ho«™r. or. .t aU „„u, p.rt .f^ 
 
 Yrt , more unWr unnpaat R«hd h.d bm 
 "".U. to »„«i«. „er .toe. the UMjZmZ 
 
 r--" ^'^ -k. l«d «<,„ie««, to'tiTir 
 
 to her httibud before her m>rri.«e • ilu h^ .-^ 
 tr^-^. ^ co«..to«„t 0,1;:; t^ ^ 
 'k<«-«l'«.. — upon hi. Me. B„n ^ttoT^ 
 
 a«-d .t^ ^.Mhi. iucideue or the t..u.p ™ 
 ft «em«l th.t the «„„t. knew of it. ««! thrt it 
 
 ^:tr t^ "^ T«^'^ di«o,eLt.X 
 X^'o^ :^ -fder-g-deuer. who, ..eing ,S 
 
 ..^1™ '"'»''"""* the ..u b.f,« Juiing 
 
146 THE SHADOW OF THE BOFE 
 
 ** And the master said, * leave him to me^^" dedazcd 
 Rachel^s maid, who was her informant on the point, 
 as she combed out her mistress's beautiful brown hair, 
 before the late breakfast which did away with luncheon 
 when thoe were no visitors at Normaiithorpe. 
 
 « And did he do so ?"* inquired Rachel, looking with 
 interest into her own eyes in the glass. **Did he 
 leave him to your master ? ^ 
 
 ** He did that ! ^ replied her maid, a simple York- 
 shire wendi, whom Rachel herself had chosen in 
 preference to the smart town type. " Catch any on 
 *em not doing what mastor tells them i ** 
 
 ** Then did John see what happened ? ** 
 
 ** No, m'm — because master sent him to see if the 
 diap 'd come in at t' lodge gates, or where, and when he 
 got back he was gone, blanket an' all, an' master with 
 
 him.'' 
 
 <- Blanket and aJl!" repeated Rachd. **Do you 
 m(ian to &ay he had ^JSxe impudence to bring a blanket 
 with him?" 
 
 "And slqpt in it!" cried her excited little maid. 
 ** John says he found him tucked up in a comer of the 
 lawn, out of the wind, behind some o' them shrubs, 
 sound asleep, and limped round and round in his Uue 
 blanket from head to heel." 
 
 Rachel saw her own face change in the gUss ; but 
 she only asked one more question, and that with a smile. 
 
 « Did John say it was a blue blanket, Harris, or did 
 , your own imagination supply the cobur ?" 
 
EPISODE OP THE INVISIBLE VISITOE 147 
 « He .aid it, m'ta; faded blue." 
 th,.p. ^ P~y/^«» ^d you -ee John to hear all 
 
 the «oa "*" y*»™« daughter of 
 
 ". that fiUl of it,^j^7.*«" ■"•"•*»■«* He 
 ""hoi Mked no more onertin.. v. ■. i 
 
 M» or cominon immiV *i. • »"w«ijr oeoome 
 
 »We the 1, ode no aUuuon to it .tZS^' .^' 
 <"«««<» lum been I?k.^ ^* ^T^^ ""' '"' 
 -«»h«. «K, thn. it rtTL^'n^'"'', °' *^ 
 »i«d the namn, bine book .^i. "^ """^ 
 
 •" hud»nd-. b«.rtlZ\L''^ "• too long &, 
 
 •» rtoopd o«, hi. ^^^JT^ t" "^ " 
 
 ■^^tThi^t't'-.trTr'^"" 
 
 two hundred milea «Wi». k: i-* i ^^^erton, over 
 
 literarr3,-r? . ^ ^*^"« *»«>*» «nd the 
 
 T7 "^''«*-P^ chiefly becauae nnon .T 
 go-lucky tour through the dSThe'tLl ^^1^" 
 -ponwhat he never tired of iT ^^L^l^^ 
 co'wwl coihuM «* J **»»**«g me ideal rose- 
 
148 THE SHADOW OF THE R6PE 
 
 reasons unknown in Yorkdiire. His flat was abandoned 
 before quarter-day, bis effects transplanted at eonsider- 
 aUe cmt, and ever since Langbolm had beoi a bigoted 
 oountiyman, who could not spend a couple of days in 
 town without making himself offensive on the subject 
 at his dub, where he was nevertheless discreetly vague 
 as to the exact locality of his rural paradise. Even at 
 the dub^ however, it was admitted that his work bad 
 improved almost as much as his i^pearance; and he 
 put it all down to the roses in which he lived em- 
 bowered for so many months of the year. Such was 
 their [ooftuion that you could have filled a dothes- 
 basket without missing one, and Langholm never 
 visited rich or poor without a little offering <rat of 
 his abundance. 
 
 ** They may be coals to Newcastle," he would say to 
 the Woodgates or the Steels, ** but none of your T^ne- 
 side M^lieries are a patch on mine.^ 
 
 like most victims of the artistic temperament, the 
 literary l/m£^lm was a creature of moods; bat the 
 very fact of a voluntary visit from him was suffident 
 guarantee of the humour in which he came, aaai this 
 afternoon he was at his best He had indeed been 
 writing a^': di^, and for many days past, and was filled 
 with the curious exhilaration which accfunpanies an 
 output too rapid and too continuous to permit a 
 running sense of the defects. He was a ship with a 
 Mr wind, which he valued the vuae for the bdts of 
 calms and the adverse weather through whidi he had 
 
EHSODE OF THE INVISIBLE VISITOR 140 
 
 P«jed ami „uat inevitably pa« again; for the moment 
 
 to the present product of his teeming pen. 
 
 a cuL« ""r^\**^ «^d to Rachel, in answer to 
 
 but ,t u not such nonsense as to seem nothing else 
 when one. in the act of perpetrating it, and what'L^ 
 can one want? It had to be done by li,e tenth Tf 
 Augus^ and by Jove it wiU be! A ffw wee J^ [ 
 
 JAre you «nre it isn't Mrs. Steel?" asked one of 
 ^V«,abks g^b who had also ridden over on th,^ 
 »»cyde^ «I hearf you had a tremendoudy Uterary 
 conversation when you dmed with us" ^^ 
 
 riJl^^^'J^"^'" '^^ ^«»»*»^"' ^^ «»thu. 
 ««»>. "And Mn, steel gave me one of the best 
 Klea. I ever had in my life; that's another reason w^ 
 
 JL7 w!i 1 ''^"* ^ ""^ "P**'^» »>»* »t this 
 point Rachel plunged into conversation with the sister 
 
 Verm which required an effort, since the elder MisJ 
 Venables was a young lady who had cultivated lanimor 
 « a aign of bleeding and sophistication. Rachd^w- 
 ever, made the effort with sudi a will that the talk 
 became general in a moment. 
 "I im\ know how anybody ^rrileg books," was the 
 
 w»t she did not want to know 
 

 160 THE SHADOW OF THE ROFE 
 
 **Nor I," echoed Sybil, **etpecidly in a place like 
 this, where nothing ever happens. If I wanted to 
 write a novel, I should go to Spain — or Siberia— or 
 the Rocky Moontains— where things do happen, ap- 
 cording to all aooounts.^ 
 
 « Young lady,** returned the n<>Telist, a twinkle in 
 his eye, **! had exactly the same notion when I first 
 began, and I remember what a much older hand 
 said to me when I told him I was going down to 
 Cornwall fy^ romantic background. * Young man,* 
 said he^ * have you placed a romance in your mother*s 
 backyard yet?* I had not, but I did so at once 
 instead of going to Cornwall, and sounder advice I 
 never had in my life. Material, like charity, begins 
 at home; nor need you suppose that nothing ever 
 happens down here. That is the universal idea of 
 the native about his or her own heath, but I can 
 assure you it isn*t the case at all. Only just now, oa 
 my way here, I saw a scene and a character that might 
 both have been lifted bodily out of Bret Harte.** 
 
 Sybil VenaUes clamoured for particulars, while her 
 sister resigned hersdf to further weariness of the flesh. 
 Badiel put down her cup and leant forward with 
 curiously expectant eyes. They were ntting in the 
 cool square hall, with doors abxxt or open upon every 
 hand, and the gilded gallery overiiead. Statuettes and 
 ftnu, all reflected in the fai^^ly polisl^ marble floor, 
 added a theatrical touch whidh was not out <^ keying 
 with a somewhat ornate interior. 
 
 ^."yj^ 
 
EPISODE OP THE INVISIBLE VISITOR 151 
 
 "It w« the character," continued Langhohn. "who 
 wa. «akmg the .cene; and a rtranger3tu« I have 
 never «en on English earth. He wore what I believe 
 ftey caU aCnmean shirt, and a hat like a stage cow- 
 boj ; and he informed aU passers that he was knocking 
 down his cheque ! * ** 
 
 "WhatP-^Haehel and SybU in one breath, but 
 in cunouslj diflerent tones. 
 
 Its what they do in the far west or the b^ or 
 jomewher^but I rather fancy it's the bush-when 
 they get aneais of wages in a lump in one cheque." 
 
 And wheredid you see aU this ?" inquired BacheL 
 whose Toice was veiy quiet, but her hazel eyes alight 
 with a deeper interest than the stoiy warranted. 
 
 «At the Packhorse on the York Road. I came 
 that way round for the sake of the surface and the 
 exercise." 
 
 "And did you see the cheque?" 
 
 "No I only stopped for a moment, to find 3ut 
 what the excitement was about; but the feUow I can 
 ■ee now. You never set eyes on such a pirate-. 
 glonously drunk and bearded to the belt. I didn't 
 top, because he was kcing into everybody with a 
 cushion, and the local loafers seemed to* like it " 
 
 ^ What a joke ! " cried Sybil Venables. 
 
 "There is no accoun^ng for taste^" remarked her 
 •H»ent sister. 
 
 "And he was bekbouring them with a cushion, did 
 
Vm tHE SHADOW OF THE Roi>!B 
 
 yoa aay?" added Rachel, with the slightest emphasis 
 upon the noun. 
 
 *<WeU, it looked like one to me,"* replied Lang- 
 holm, **bat, on second thoughts, it was more like a 
 bolster in shape; and now I know what it was! It 
 has just dawned on me. It looked like a bolster 
 done up in a blanket; but it was tiie swag that the 
 tramps carry in Australia, with all their earthly goods 
 roUed up in their bedding; and the fellow was an 
 Australian Wagsman, that^s what he was!" 
 
 ** Swagman,'' corrected Rachel, instinctively. ** And 
 pray what colour was the blanket?"* she made haste 
 to add. 
 ** Faded blue."* 
 
 And, again from dieer force of instinct, Radid gave 
 a ikkL 
 
 "Were you ever out there, Mrs. Steel?*' inquired 
 Langholm, carelessly. " I never was, but the sort of 
 thing has been done to death in books, and I only 
 mmdex I didn^ recognise it at once. Well, it was 
 the last type one thought to meet with in broad day- 
 Ii|^t on an English country road ! ** 
 
 Had Langholm realised that he had put a question 
 whicii he had no business to put? Had he convicted 
 himadf oi a direct though unpr^neditated attempt to 
 probe the mystery of his hostesses antecedents, and 
 were his subsequent observations desigiMd to unsay 
 that question in effect? If so there was no sndi 
 delica<7 in the elder Mias Vanabha, who became 
 
BnSODE OP THE INVISIBLE VISITOH ,58 
 
 •»d at her .™ perc.pu<,„ „ „„ ^ ««'»'' «>". 
 
 Have you been to Amtralia M™ a»_i = » 
 Vera, looking Rachel full L th;^" ^f "^J!? 
 •Ijljr, "I believe you have!" ^ ' ^ "^' "*^^^ 
 
 There was a moment's pause and fl,-« 
 «ng upon the marble, a. Mr Swi ^'^ "^P 
 
 study. ^^'^^ *"*^«^ ft^ffl hi* 
 
 "Australia, my dear Miss Venables," said he. «» fh. 
 
 one country that neither my wife nor Tk ^ 
 
 ;»««. 11 , . " ^'® "®' ^ nave ever vidtftl 
 
 A»d he took hi. «.t «„o„g them with , »il., 
 
l^r^ 
 
 CHAPTER Xra 
 
 TRX AimmAUAN «00M 
 
 It was that diaoonifort to man, that cruelty to beast, 
 that outrage by unnatural Nature upon all her diildren, 
 a bitter tummer's day. Hie wind was in tiie eaat; 
 great swollen clouds wallowed across the sky, now with- 
 out a drop, now breaking into capridous showers <tf 
 stinging rain ; and a very occasional burst of sunlight 
 served only to emphasise the evil by reminding one of 
 the season it really was, or should have been, tnea if it 
 did not entice one to the wetting whidi was the sure 
 reward of a walk abroad. The Delverton air was strong 
 and bracing eno<^|7h, but the patron wind ai the district 
 Ht to the bone through garments nevor intoided for 
 winter wear. 
 
 On such a day there could bo fc uore undesirable 
 abodes than Normanthorpe House, «rith its marble 
 floors, iU hig^ ceilings, and its general scheme of Italian 
 coohiess and discomfort It was a Tuesday, when 
 Mr. Sted usually unused himself by going on XSunge 
 in Northborough and lunching there at the Delverton 
 dub. Radid was thus not only physically <Mled and 
 
 IM 
 
THE AUSTRALIAN ROOM lu 
 
 d^pn-^d, but tlurown upon ho own wdety at it. wont ; 
 
 •nd die n.ia«rf that of her hurf»nd mow tUn Ae WM 
 aware. 
 
 wiS^l ^^^^ ^"«ht and enei^Uc pe«o„ 
 Witt plenty of re«,u«e. within hemelf; now nb^ 
 h^ ringuUrly few. She wa. diatntught and une^y 
 in W „ijjd. could .etUe le« and l-TTher ringing I 
 
 ^mj«i«adhmb. Othe« did not .ee it ; Ae had .df- 
 ^; but repre«ion wa.no cure. AndforaUthi. 
 »«. w«e HMuon. enough ; but the fear of identifica- 
 tioo by the ndghboun a. the notoriou. Mi.. Mindiin 
 wa. no longer one of them. 
 
 No; it wa. her own life, root and teanch, that had 
 gtm into the upa..t«e whidi wa. poiwning exirtence 
 fi«B^ Steel. She wa. bdngVni^ST^ 
 "Mod marriage a. die had been punidMsd for her fiwt. 
 SL T" ^'^^y> '^^ ^^ "ore «,btk .tripeZ 
 ^ digr brought a doien token, of the anomaC 
 portion which die had accepted in the madnes. of an 
 hour of utter reckle-new and desperation. Radid 
 ws not nkti^ m her own house, nor did die feel for 
 a moment that it wa. her own house at all. Ever^ 
 
 k .^if ^' •"^ *^* *^ ''•" ^^^^ *Iiko 
 «JW»^n»«it and ^ecution, that the said hou». 
 
 ^ ^ a woman of irreproachable tact and capa- 
 W^. Wd that die heredf had never an excu« i^ 
 ^ CQQHddnt, foroidagrewii^ thoo^ intangible 
 
156 THE SHADOW OF THE RdPE 
 
 grieranoe in RMheTs mind. fflM had not Mt it «t fint 
 She had dianged in tbeie lammer months. She wanted 
 to be more like other wives. There was Moma Wood- 
 gate, with tlie worli cut out for every hour of her fuU 
 and happy days ; bat Moma had not made an anomalous 
 marriage, Moma had married for love. 
 
 And to-day thore was not even Moma to come and 
 see her, or for h«r to go and see, for Tuesday after- 
 noon wfi not one of the few upon which the vicar's 
 wife had no settled duty or occupatim in the parish. 
 Radiel so envied her the way in which she helped her 
 husband in his work ; she had tried to help also, in a 
 desultory way ; but it is <nie thing to do a thing because 
 it is a duty, and another thing to do it for something 
 to do, as Rachel soon found out. Besides, Hugh 
 Woodgate was not her husband. Rachel had the right 
 feeling to abandon those half-hearted attempts at 
 perscmal recreatioa in the guise of good works, and the 
 ocMirage to give M(mia her reasons; but she almost 
 r^retted it this afternoon. 
 
 £Bie had explored for the twentieth time that strange 
 treasury known as the Chinese Room, a state apart- 
 ment filled with loot brought home from the flowery 
 Land by a naval scion of the house of Normanthmrpe, 
 and somewhat (^ically included in the sale. The 
 idols only leered in Rachel^s face, and the cabinets of 
 g«-ntesque design were unprovided with any key to their 
 history or former uses. In sheer deq>«ration Rachel 
 betook hane]f to her husband's study ; it was the firrt 
 
THE ADSTRAUAN BOOM m 
 
 to. A. W cro^d th.t tta«hdd fa U. ,b.o«. 
 wrt within wo* the booki. u..! . i ™ """"^ 
 bun. ^ • '*"'' ••» """t 
 
 TI»"«l»I«db«,purcluurf,ithth.hou«. With 
 
 which St«lh«l .Hga.»ti«d « «„„rtr tnl^^ 
 
 whfc* the oU Look. lta«l, „d i. ,hi^ iT™^ „, 
 tt. hoa» di.Ukrf being dirturbed. Yet it wHi, 
 
 There wa. Tom Jones in four Tolume. and the 
 
 «« &Ho., .t e,«7 le«I .„d on eiUw h«.d LC 
 R«*d did ; d.. took th«n ont »d put then, fa ." 
 
 Tr^?'" "",' '""^ ''»' ™ -<" ^«-% 
 .tlraoud to n-arch oiT with them. Oh. <,na.nt ob«,le.^ 
 
 type rf the T«oa, volume, attmcted her more « , 
 
 ^«riy nwter. of c«icature «ui cartoon did not 
 
 ^of the tr«i,t,on.. the »per.Ution., and the ^bbo- 
 "•U-wliKh « at once . .tr«,gth and a w«J<n.« of 
 
us THE SHADOW OF THE RdFE 
 
 tht otdinuj AigUih education ; if, howtrvr, she wtt 
 too mt^ kwliiMd to takt a world*! maiterpieoe exactly 
 as she found it, her taite, tudi as it was, at all erents 
 wa» her own. 
 
 She had naturally an open mind, but it was not open 
 now ; it was ftiU and running over with the mystnies 
 and the perplexities of her own environment Books 
 would not take her out of herself; in them she could 
 not hop* to find a key to any one of the problems 
 within problems which beset and tortured her. So she 
 ran her hand along the dusty books, little dreaming 
 that the key was there all tiie time ; so in the end, and 
 quite by dianoe, but for the &ct that she was dipjring 
 into so many, she took out the right book, and started 
 backward with it in her hand. 
 
 The book was The Faerie Queene, and Rachd had 
 extracted it in «. Gothic spirit, because she had once 
 heard that very few living persons had read it from 
 end to end ; shice she could not become interested in 
 anything, she might as well be thoroughly bored. But 
 she never opened the volume, for in the dark slit 
 whidi it left something dione like a little new moon. 
 Rachel put in her hand, and felt a small brass handle ; 
 to turn ami pull it was the work of her hand without 
 a guiding thought; but when Men of books swung 
 towards her with the opening door which they hid, it 
 was not in human nature to shut that door again 
 without so mudi as peeping in. 
 
 Rachel first peqied, then stepped, into a secret 
 
"•E AU8TRAUAN BOOM up 
 
 "-" not that h,r .c „,d !„: .b„™l h.d fon^rrf ««, 
 
 tt«t tooW upon lUehd «.«], fc^ b„, j TT 
 
 l»to ken, through the bro) en gl« of !^. ^ 
 pWon-fhu.. bdrind th. door. ^"^ "^ * "'-l^'' ' 
 ^ portr«tw« „t bulging fr„„ th, ^ ,,^ 
 ^*g^t rt » U,. floor. It ,„ . pkotog, , 
 
 rtJtachd Witt Jl th, boU «„«nc. that d» „„«_, 
 
 ^t™a.b„^„r!^^t'^pr^;:,:~' 
 
 th.t of . „ud, younger n»n th« A. iSZ^ 
 VMM. ••* ^^ practically obsolete for 
 
 -««'• Mrw.j her ducoyeiy h«i all the dad. of 
 
160 THE SHADOW OF THE BOFB 
 
 an imv«Iooiiie cneoontar with tht Uving. But It 
 the gradual ai^pi«dAti<m oi tlM tnie dgmfieanoe oi 
 ha diicoverir that ndottlded Rachel's qnalmt flven 
 m she WM b^^imung to get the better ci than. 
 So thej had been friends, her first husband and her 
 second! Rachel stooped and looked hard at the 
 enkxgemeat, and there sure enough was the photo- 
 grapher's imprint. Yes, they had been friends hi 
 Australia, that country which John Buchanan Steel 
 elaborately and repeatedly pretended never to have 
 Tinted in all his travels ! 
 
 Rachel could have smiled as she drew herself up 
 with this point settled in her mind for ever; why, 
 the room reeked of Australia! These cases which 
 had never been v-"^perly unpacked, they were over- 
 flowing with mfciu^aals of the life which she herself 
 knew so wefl. Here a sheaf of boomerangs were 
 peeping out ; there was an old grey wideawake, with 
 a blue sUk fly-veii coiled above the biim ; that was 
 an AustraHan saddle ; and those glass cases contained 
 samples of merino wool So it was in Australia as a 
 squatter that Steel had made his fortune ! But why 
 suppress a fiMst so free from aU discredit? These were 
 just the reUcs of a bush Hfe which a departing colonist 
 mi^t care to bring home with him to the old country. 
 Then why cast them into a secret lumba^room whose 
 ▼ery existence was unknown to the old Australian's 
 Awtralian wife P 
 Rachel felt her brain reeling; and yet she was 
 
 'l^S^TI^?^ 
 
THE AIT8TRAUAN BOOM ig] 
 
 •J-t^-^hii Z^L* '"'«"W. though the 
 
 JS' "-^J* »«t told ter .bout Aurtrdi.. .t .U 
 
 Zlf „'"*««'«'"'''« Wm could that !.« 
 aonef it would have hMn fiw. x- 
 
 bond b.tw«. th«. B„ttLhSVL?«'^ '^""' 
 
 ■«<*fag t« hi. wife could «.t folt '^ "^ "^ 
 «« in her right °^ * '"'"™' «»"•<« dgnifi- 
 
 B-id-. «L ta 1 '^.«"^ *y' (W J« ,« 
 
 ««. . gitau-r Sul^/L";;! 7f * f*^ 
 
 of thA Mm«» L 1^ ^ *°* ^^'^t «nd dirt 
 
 "«" «»a> brt « «««di^, d^^ ^^ ^»^ 
 
 MM 
 
 HHiiaBiHiii 
 
lai THE SHADOW m THE BOPE . 
 
 Ttewiter she eicaped ineoBtineatlj, but iiio- 
 jr, M she bad entered ; doted the hidden door 
 bdbiad her, and restored The Faerie Qmene very 
 muiiMy to its place. Rad^ no bnger proposed to 
 job the select band of those who have read that epic 
 tiiroa^ 
 
CHAPrra XIV 
 
 tAXTUt SOTHb 
 
 "-got iJt« JtZtl*^ - W »t w« 
 
 *« ttrt !«tr^ «o«,e W. with the l.t«t «„ 
 "ra aM gone aw round, on 'ChMM and .♦ u-1' 
 
 » 
 
THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 with that Blight but unmistakAble local accent of 
 which these gentry were themselves all unconsdons. 
 Steel had a wicked wit, and Rachel as a rule a 
 sufficiently appreciative smile, but this was to-ni£^t 
 either lacking altogether or of an unconvincing 
 diaraeter. Rachel could never pretend, and her first 
 qwntaneous remark was when her glass filled up with 
 
 « ChMopagne ! ^ said she, for they seldom drank it 
 
 <* It has been such a wretched day," explained Steel, 
 «that I ordered it medieinaUy. I am afraid it must 
 have been perishing hoie, as it was in the town. This 
 is to restore your circulation.^* 
 
 **Uy drcidation is all r^t,"* answered Rachel, too 
 himert even to smile upon the man with whom she 
 was gofaig to war. " I felt cold aM the morning, but 
 I have beoi warm mm^ since the aftemo<m." 
 
 And that was very liat, for excitement had made 
 ha blood run hot in every vite ; n<»r had Radiel often 
 ban more handsome, or less lovely, than die was 
 to-ni^ with her firm lip and her tHrooding eye. 
 
 "Them was anotl^r reason for the champagne,"' 
 nsumed her l^uband, very frankly for him, when at 
 kit tiiey had ^ drawing-room to themselves. ^I 
 Mi hi Mt^am wi^ you, I belkve, and I want to bear 
 Iban yoB i^mA I hav« done." 
 
 « It is i^wt y#B h»m not done," r^umed Rachel, 
 m ibi «l*^ mfmiuw i y before the Minted fire; 
 loee md M, wl^ m the oi-uate 
 
BATTLE HOYAt m 
 
 - Ajri wb.t, m., I „l, i. ^ 1^ ^ ^ ^_^ 
 
 B^ rujW t. fte point with . p«.i,,„.u air^t- 
 M th«t did her no discredit ^^ 
 
 JZ!^ t^ ^o" t»t«,ded ril th« ^.rth, that 
 yoo newr were in Anrtralia in your life? wj,. ^ 
 
 f"«^t. cum her up hiU «d do., 40., k ,tl^ 
 
 »«^ tot thtt on. ne«r. Whrt B«hd did noi 
 «^ ™ . .™l. that do.krf ^ . ^ 
 
 •*^ rf surprw, and th. littl. cocbnr. bo. a^ 
 •"ompMued th. .mile. ^^ ~" "* 
 
 J'lf" ^'" "1" *"■"* '* ""*'" "« Stad, ari li 
 •mil. onljr eaded as he sinn,! hi. J^ " 
 
 there was no end to itlL^.e^'^ ""^ ' ^^^ *^ 
 J This afternoons said Rachel, &««eert«l h«t «,t 
 
 J!?l ^^^^ y**"*" "* ^»t« places wWch vod w«A1 
 not think of ftnn»«-«K;„ • r"**" wmcb you vodd 
 
 « iT;^ «PPw«ching m 117 prewice ?" 
 i*7 the merest acdd«it in tte world»» 
 
 And 2l«^ de.^b^ ^ accident, truth lading 
 
 •V I 
 
 ft'' 
 
 nn 
 
168 THE SHADOW OF THE BDFE 
 
 I 
 
 siai 
 
 tnm her c^ret; in an instant her husbancTt hm 
 duunged, the smile went oat, but it was no fkown 
 that came in its stead. 
 
 **1 beg your pardon, Rachel,** said he, earnestly. 
 *'I suppose^" he added, **that a man may call his 
 wife by her Christian name for once in a way ? I did 
 so, however, without thinking, and because I really 
 do most humbly beg your pardon for an injustice 
 iddch I have done you for some hours in my own 
 mind. I came home between three and four, and I 
 heard you were in my study. You were not, but 
 that book was out ; and then, of cocurse, I knew where 
 you were. My hand was on the knob, but I drew 
 it back. I wondered if you would have the pluck to 
 cb the tackling ! And I apologise again,** Steel con- 
 cluded, "few I knew you quite well enough to have 
 also known that at least there was no questi<m about 
 your courage." 
 
 " Then," said Rachel, impulsively, after having made 
 up hor mind to ignore these complira^its, ''then I 
 think you might at least be candid with me ! " 
 
 "And am I not?" he cried. "Have I denied Aat 
 the piwtrait you saw is indeed the p<HrtTait of Aleaander 
 Minchin ? And ^t how easy that would have been ! 
 It was taken long before you knew him ; he must have 
 altraed considerably i^er that Gr I mi^t have 
 known him under anotiber name. Jtet no, I tell yew 
 hoiMstly that your first husoM^ ma a iwry dear 
 friend of mine, BMre jmm ago now than I care to 
 
BATTLE HOYAL i^ 
 
 wckon. Did you hear me?" he added, with one of 
 hi« »udden changes of tone and manner. «A veiy 
 dear friend, I said, for that he undoubtedly was; but 
 was I going to ask you to marry a veiy dear friend 
 of the man who deteriorated so terribly, and who 
 treated you so ill?" 
 
 Delivered in the most natural manner imaginable, 
 with the quiet confidenvTe of which this man was full, 
 and followed by a smile of conscious yet not unkindly 
 triumph, this argument, like most that feU from his 
 lips upon her ears, was invested with a value out of 
 aU proportion to its real worth ; and Steel clinched it 
 with one of those homely saws which are not disdained 
 by makers of speeches the wide world over. 
 
 "Could you really think," he added, with one of hia 
 rarest and mort winning smiles, « that I should be such 
 a fool as to invite you to step out of the fryimr-pan 
 into the fire?" j'-b t^ 
 
 Ra<;hel felt for a moment that she would like to 
 ■ay H was exactly what she had done ; but even in 
 that moment she perceived that such a stetement 
 would have been very far from the truth. And her 
 nature was krge enough to refrain from the momai- 
 tary gratification of a bitter repartee. But he was 
 too dever for her; tiiat she did feel, whatcfcr elw 
 he mi^t be; and her only chance was to rvtaun to 
 the plain questions with wWch she had started, de- 
 laandii^ answers as plain. H&chd led up to them, 
 howenr, with one or two of whidi she already katw 
 
 i 
 
168 THE SHADOW OF TBB BOFB 
 
 tk« utwor. that prapariBg ftr hm iptfaf b ^rft* 
 tbe Old Baikjr HMumer, wkkb Am had nrnTtnd Mb- 
 ooBKiotMlj At htr triid, and which for ohm wat te 
 Fofit a priMoar at tha bar. 
 
 ** Yet yott dont any hagu dtny that yoa havt baM 
 to Australia?" 
 " It k iiaeleM. I lived there for yean." 
 "And you admit that you knew Alexander ouite 
 will out there?" 
 
 "Moit intimately, in the Riverina, some fUteeo er 
 twenty, years ago; he was on my tUtion as ahnoet 
 everythmg a gentleman could be, up to oveneer; and 
 
 by that time he was half a son to ma, and half a younger 
 Iffotiwr." 
 
 **But no rdation, as a matter of fact? " 
 
 "None whatever, but my very ^miliar friend, as I 
 
 have abeady told you."" 
 " Then why in the world," Rachel almost thundered, 
 
 "oe^ you not tell me so in the beginning ?" 
 "That is a qoestioD I have already answered." 
 "Then I have another. Why so often and so 
 
 ^wtenwticaDy pratend that you Mver were in Austialk 
 
 ataU?" 
 
 'That is a ^eation which I impioie you not to 
 
 I* 
 
 The two answers, so like each other in verbal form, 
 utterly dissimilar in the manner of fhm utter- 
 Suddenly, and for the first time is all her 
 knowkdfe of hm, las cynical ^ianb had fmltm horn 
 
BATTLE BOYAL m 
 
 "Bot I thought bita <rf them, md h.„ ,_. 
 
 ^™" AMtrilun, at owrjc , indeed ui^fl^ 
 
 ben^ ■" '™"' '"' y™ <•"•* -".t it kn.™ over 
 
 "«^d«..- «id Steel, with grim b«rity. 
 . ^fW moral t«rwnd «rf „„»_/ u. . _, 
 impnlovelv Tn k. . «'"'**' "u hand 
 
 that wound— whatev*, u 1. ^^ re-open 
 
 '^JMrteTff it may be-nuid I won't erZ 
 
170 THE SHADOW OF IHE HOPE 
 
 trj to gtMM. I undertook not to trj to prbbo jpoor 
 pMt, and I will Imp my nndertokinif in tht main ; 
 Imt where it impinges upon mj own pert I -^mply 
 cannot! You eaj you were my iint liaiband*e 
 dow friend,** added Rachd, looking her lecond 
 hatband more iquardy than ever in the eyee. ** Waa 
 that what Imm^t you to my trial f«r hia murdor P" 
 
 He returned her look. 
 
 "in was." 
 
 **Was that what made you wiih to many me 
 youndf?** 
 
 No answer, but Ids assurance coming back, as he 
 stood lookbg at her under beetling eyelnows, over 
 Uack arms folded across a snowy shirt It was the 
 wnmg moment for the old Adam's return, tot Radid 
 had readied the point upon which she mort pasdonatdy 
 desired enlightenment 
 
 <*I want' to know," she cried, **and I insirt on 
 knowing, what first put it into your head or your 
 heart to marry me— all but convictod " 
 
 Sted held up his hand, glancing in apprehension 
 towards the door. 
 
 •*I have told you so often,* he said, "and your 
 glau tdls you whenever you look into it I sat 
 within a few feet of you for the inside of a week ! " 
 
 "]^t that is not true,"* she told him quietly; 
 •* trust a woman to know, if it were." 
 
 In the white glare of the dectric light he seemed 
 for once to change colour sli|^tly. 
 
BATTLE BOTAI, m 
 
 ™«» » no mora to be itld." 
 
 b«ten too ««dj, upon „„, ^^^ ,, „j ^.^ ^ 
 tfh.wM.boutto«rftIi.iiiterTiew. 
 
 fought not to U hurt if I ™^^ JlJ^' 
 
 y« ounM m. for loT.? No. you tun, .^Z. 
 b««« J«. «»aot 1 Tto wm you, In God-. ,J«, 
 tdlBwwhyjoodidnunynn?" ^^ 
 
 And 4, foUowrf U„ .ju, dipped luad^ b« 
 ««««t.M ^« filfed with t^ hTwlT^ 
 qj«m« wiU. u,U. nntU „dd«I, h. bm»d3^ 
 b«r u thongh in MlfJefenoe. ^^ "^ 
 
 "No. I win not!" h. cried. "Sine, the «„,„ i 
 
 A tpuaJent look c«ne into Hwhel'. ereiL » ther 
 "■W upon the »,ooth f.« „ nnneJT " Jrf 
 beneath the .mooth .Uiery hair. ^ 
 
 JM td» ,„„ at j,„„ „^ „^ j^_j ^^ ^^ ^^^ 
 And •h.iwqit p„t him out of the room. 
 
ai^^^^'^T -"^.^:^^ " 
 
 MKXOCOTY RESOIUTUN TBT CHART 
 
 (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 
 
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 ^^ 1653 East Main Street 
 
 ^S Roctiester. New York 14609 USA 
 
 S ("6) *B2 - 0300 - Phone 
 
 bS ("6) 2n8- 5989 -Fax 
 
CHAPTER XV 
 
 A CHANCE EKCODKTEA 
 
 Thkuc was now an open breach between the Steels, 
 but no third person would have discerned any differ- 
 ence in their relations. It was a mere snapping of the 
 threads across the chasm which had always separated 
 Rachel from her second husband. The chasm had 
 been plain enough to those who came much in contact 
 with the pair, but the little threads of sympathy were 
 invisible to the naked eye of ordinary observation. 
 There was thus no outward change, for neither was 
 there any outward rupture. It takes two to quarrel, 
 and Steel imperturbably refused to make one. Rachel 
 might be as trying as she pleased ; no repulse depressed, 
 no caprice annoyed him ; and this insensibility was not 
 the least of Steel's offences in the now jaundiced eyes 
 of his wife. 
 
 Rachel felt as bitter as one only does against those 
 who have inspired some softer feeling; the poison of 
 misplaced confidence rankled in her blood. Her hus- 
 band had told her much, but it was not enough for 
 Rachel, and the little he refused to tell eliminated 
 
 ITS 
 
A CHANCE ENCOUNTER 
 
 173 
 
 ^It r."^""* '*'. "^'^'^- '^^« ^'^ »o »«"•* even 
 m such frankness « he had shown, since her own acci- 
 
 dental discovenes had foiled some measure of honesty 
 upon h,m He had admitted nothing which 7^^ 
 could not have deduced from that which shrhad 
 found out for he«elf. She m as far as ever from 
 «.y satisfactory clue to his mysterious reasoL o" 
 ever wishtng to many her. There lay .he kernel of 
 ^e whole matter there the problem that she meant 
 to «>lve. If her fint husband was at the bottom of 
 It, no matt^ how indirectly, and if she had been 
 nuimed for the dead man^s sake, to give his widow a 
 home, then Rachel felt that the last affront had been 
 put upon her, and she would leave this man as she had 
 be^ withm an ace of leaving his friend. So ran the 
 wild and unreasonable tenor of her thoughts. He had 
 not tarred her for her own sake; it was not she 
 hersetf who had appealed to him, after aU. Curiosity 
 in^ht consume her, and a s.nse of deepening mystenr 
 add terrors of its own, but the resentful feeling was 
 stronger than either of these, and wouJd have afforded as 
 strange a revelation as any, had Bachel dared to look 
 deeper mto her own heart. 
 
 Jl """ll^r^"' ^^''^' '^' ^"^ '^"^^y «>•»« conception 
 of the truth about herself, it would scarcely lessen her 
 bitteraess against one who inspired in her emotions «t 
 race so complex and so painful. Suffice it that this 
 bitterness was extreme in the days immediately follow- 
 uig the scene between Rachel and her husband in the 
 
174 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 drawing-room after dinner. It was also uneoncealed, 
 and must have been the cause of many another such 
 scene but for the imperturbable temper and the singu- 
 larly ruly tongue of John Buchanan Steel. And then, 
 in those same days, there fell the two social events to 
 which the bidden guests had been looking forward for 
 some two or three weeks, and of which the whole 
 neighbourhood was to talk for years. 
 
 On the tenth of August the Uniackes were giving 
 a great garden-party at Hornby Manor, while the 
 eleventh w<b the date of the first real dinner-party for 
 which the Steels had issued invitations to Norman- 
 thorpe House. 
 
 The tenth was an ideal August day: deep blue 
 sky, trees still untarnished in the hardy northern air, 
 and black shadows under the trees. Rachel made 
 herself ready before lunch, to which she came down 
 looking quite lovely, in blue as joyous as the sky's, 
 to find her husband as fully prepared, and not less 
 becomingly attired, in a grey frock-coat without a ripple 
 on its surface. They looked critically at each other for 
 exi instant, and then Steel said something pleasant, to 
 which Rachel made practically no reply. They ate 
 their lunch in a silence broken good-naturedly at in- 
 tervals from one end of the table only. Then the 
 Woodgates arrived, to diive with them to Hornby, 
 which was some seven or eight miles away ; and the 
 Normanthorpe landau and pair started with the 
 quartette shortly after three o'clock. 
 
A CHANCE ENCOUNTEH 
 
 176 
 
 » J :. " °p" "»■'<"' o'^iooki . hi, 
 to tf '^'°- , 1; *™""" "' ■>" ■»'<"«> «»« 'tooS 
 
 m on. comer of the writing ,p.ee. up to the cut. to 
 
 mnaow^ and drooped from either side. But Lan. 
 ^Im h«i . „^ji„ telow rose, .t the pre«nfl^?: 
 >». neatly numbeml .heet, of ruled «Lon-p.per^' 
 
 i«»m. were „ the fuU „eep of tho« emotiouj „. 
 
 Srr"".""."!.""'' "^ "^"'"-^^ ""-Jed for Z 
 hrt ttree hu»d«d .t leert; to . worf. Charle. W 
 
 hohn . new novel i. being finished wUIe yoa w«t ft 
 
 - »t one of hi. b«t; ,et . n.on.ent ^ C wL 
 
 •t pUy. And «t pky he i., though he be paid fe, 
 I^ft «d though the game if on,, ti^',^ 
 a^ week, and „onfi„ of uphill labour and W 
 
 UUl JO J, 
 
 "d Charle. Langholm to^ribe, the autograph for 
 wh,ch he -importuned once to a blue m«,n, aid 
 wl.«h he pnnter will certatoly n„t ^^ „p ,, «. ™ 
 
 must needs set his hand to it out of pure nn^ 
 rtdf^"" with hto^lf. And TtJk 
 
176 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 Langholm rose stiffly from the old bui'MU, where 
 at his best he could lose all sense of time ; for the 
 mome he was bent double, and faint with fasting, 
 because It was his mischievous rule to reach a given 
 point before submitting to the physical and mental 
 distraction of a meal. But to-day's given point had 
 been the end of his book, and for some happy minutes 
 Langholm fed on his elation. It was done at last, yet 
 another novel, and not such a bad one after all. Not 
 his best by any means, but perhaps still further from 
 being his worst; and, at all events, the thing was 
 done. Langholm could scarcely grasp that fact, 
 though tiiere was the last page just dry upon the 
 bureau, and most of the rest lying about the room 
 in galley-proofs or in type-written sheets. Moreover, 
 the publishers were pleased; that was the joke. It 
 was nothing less to Langholm when he reflected that 
 the final stimulus to finish this book had been the 
 prospect and determination of at last writing one to 
 please himself. And this reflection brought him down 
 from his rosy clouds. 
 
 It was the day of the Uniackes' garden-party ; they 
 had actually asked the poor author, and the poor 
 author had intended to go. Not that he either shone 
 or revelled in society ; but Mrs. Steel would be there, 
 and he burned to tell her that he had finished his book, 
 and was at last free to tackle hers ; for hers at bottom 
 it would be, the great novel by which the name of 
 Langholm was to live, and which he was to found by 
 
A CHANCE ENCOUNTER 
 
 «-«l . mind L XTT °'"" *"* "•^ 
 
 >»u«r mat l^angholm made a ranid imt „„.i. i 
 meal, followed bv a delihe^t. a ■ """''"''"•">« 
 
 would probably h<.,e .tajed at home. Hi. eve «,„aht 
 to eageriy .. h, «t foot upon tl,e lawn. iZZ gt' 
 h" b^yde at the rtablee, «,d c.ref„n, «mov^ tt, 
 dip. from hi. trouMr.; but befen. hiT ■ T 
 be rew.n1~1 1,. 7 "^ vigilance could 
 
 l^rt^=h ""despatched by hi. hostoM to the 
 
 ^Xt°:rt:f,ri.e^t'"f''"'" 
 
 whoM ««« "=«"* w> say to the pretty school«rI 
 "^ «» be.t, and atonmg in attentivenew fo, hi. 
 
J" 
 
 178 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 ifaortoomiiigs as » companion, when in tht tent h« 
 had to apologise to a lady in blue, who turned out 
 to be Rachel herself, with Hugh Woodgate at her 
 
 side. . , - 
 
 "Oh, no, we Uve in London.** the young girl was 
 
 saying; « only I go to the same school as Ida Uniacke, 
 
 and I am staying here on a visit.'* 
 «rve finished it,** whispered La.<gholm to Rachel, 
 
 "this very afternoon ; and now Tm ready for yours! 
 
 I we,** he added, dropping back into the attitude of 
 
 respectful interest in the young girl ; ** only on a visit; 
 
 and vho was the old genUeman from whom I tore you 
 
 away?** 
 
 The child laughed merrily. 
 
 "That was my father,** she said; "but he it only 
 here on his way to Leeds.** ^ , , « , i 
 
 « You muatn't caU it my book,** remonstrated Rachel, 
 while Woodgate waited upon both ladies. 
 
 "But it was you who gave me the idea of writing a 
 novel round Mrs, Mmchin.** 
 
 « I don*t think I did. I am quite sure it was your 
 own idea. But one book at a tim«. Surely you wiU 
 
 take a rest?" 
 
 «I shall correct this thing. It will depress me to 
 the verge of suicide. Then I shall faU to upon my 
 
 magnum opu^ 
 
 « You really think it will be that ? ** 
 
 "It should be mine. It is ^ saying much; but I 
 never had such a plot as you have given me!** 
 
A CHANCE ENCOUNTER 179 
 
 Rachel Aook her head in a Ia.t di«:laimer a. Ae 
 moved away with the Vicar of Marie '*""'« 
 
 J!^u ?*'-,^«^«J'n' do you writi boob?" wkcd 
 the schoolgirl, with round blue eye« 
 
 "For my .ins,-, he confessed. «But do you prefer 
 an ioe, or more rtrawberrie. and cream?- ^ 
 
 Neither, thank you. Fve been here before - the 
 young (pri ^d with a joUy .mile. "Brr^iJ^ 
 
 knowlrf^ould come back with an author." 
 
 Then well go out into the open air" ♦).« .„*i. 
 
 -aU. th. prettier ftc ™,deme.th. th. idl^^S 
 wdlHjr..«d cea, .rfth the old ™. -JT^n 
 
 »"tr«» th, b^icgr.u.d.'^'n^*;':^ 
 
 •f ««Iet „d .f bm. „me.he„ „Bder tt. C 
 
 i:^ft„Se.t'ii'-ati^>f 
 
 «d Mrs. Woodgate apparently missed the same ^1 
 P»«» ben^^r^!? ^"^^ ^ "™"«^ ^O' ^ ex- 
 
180 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 Mn. Uniftcke hud stepped apart from the tal. 'a 
 gentleman with the tide whiskers, to whom she had 
 been talk;ag for some time, and had intercepted 
 Rachel as she was passing on with Hugh Wood- 
 gate. 
 
 "Wait while I introduce you to my most distin- 
 guished guest, or rawther him to you," whispered 
 Mrs. Uniacke, with the Irish brogue which rendered 
 her slightest observation a delighi to the appreciative. 
 "Sir Baldwin Gibson— Mrs. Steel." 
 
 Langhobn,and the Uttle Miss Gibson were standing 
 close behind, and the trained eye of the habitual 
 observer took in every detail of a fcjene which he 
 never forgot. Handsome Mrs. Uniacke was clinching 
 the introductiou with a smile, which ended in a swift 
 expression of surprise. Sir Baldwin had made an 
 extraordinary pause, uis hand half-way to his hat, 
 hii lantern jaws fallen suddenly apart Mrs. . ^, 
 though slower at her part of the obvious recogni- 
 tion, was only a second slower, and thereupon stood 
 abashed and ashamed in the eyes of all wh> saw; 
 but only foi another second at the most; then Sir 
 P«ddwin Gibson not only raised his hat, but held 
 out his hand in a fatherly way, and as she took 
 it Rachers colour changed from livid white to ruby 
 
 red. 
 
 Yet even Rachel was mistress of herself so quickly 
 that the one or two eye-witnesses of this scene, such 
 M Mrs. Uniacke and Charles Langhohn, who saw that 
 
A CHANCE ENCOUNTER lai 
 
 it had a ledouB meaning, without drean. .g what tLit 
 meaning was. were each in hope* that no one else had 
 
 into amiable and Huont conversation, and before many 
 moments Rachel's replies were infected with an ai^ 
 proximate assurance and ease; then Langholm turned 
 to his juvenile companion, and put a question in the 
 form of a nb. 
 
 "So that is your father," said he. "I seem, do you 
 know, to know his face ? " 
 
 littltt Misc 'Gibson fell an easy prey 
 
 - You preba: .ly do ; he is the judge, you kr.ow I « 
 
 *'Thejudge,ishe?'' 
 
 "Yess and I wanted to ask you something just 
 now m the tent Did you mean the Mm. MFnin 
 who was tned for murder, when you were talking 
 about your plot?** ^* 
 
 Langholm experienced an unforeseen shock from head 
 to heel ; he could only nod. 
 
 "He was the judge who tried her ! ** the schoohrirl 
 saia with pardonable pride. 
 A kdy joined them as they spoke. 
 «Do you really mean that that is Mr. Justice 
 
 « wTT"^ ^'"''^*^ "^^ *^" P"^"*^ y«"»« girl- 
 What a very sing, lar thing ! How do you do, 
 
 Mr.Langhohn? I didn't see it was you - 
 
 And Langholm found himself taking hands with 
 
\m THE SHADOW OP THE ROPE 
 
 the •quiline hAy to whom he h»A tdked lo llttU at 
 the Upthorpe dinner-party ; the took her revenge by 
 giving him only the tipe of her fingers now, end by 
 looking deliberately part him at Rachel and her 
 judge. 
 
CHAPTEK XVI 
 
 A MATCH FOB MBS. VCNABLU 
 
 That was al»olutei^ all that happened at the Uniacket* 
 garden-partjr. There was no scene, no scandal, no 
 hicident whatsoever beyond an apparently mutual 
 recognition between Mrs. Steel and Mr. Justice 
 Gibson. Of this there were not half-a-dozen witnesses, 
 all of whom were given immediate reason to suppoM 
 that either they or the pair in question had made a 
 mistake ; {..r nothing could have surpassed th' presence 
 of mind and the kindness of heart with v ch Sir 
 Baldwin Gibson chatted to the woman whom he had 
 tried for her life within the year. And his charity 
 continued behind her back. 
 
 ** Odd thing,** said Sir Baldwin to his hostess, at the 
 earliest opportunity, <*but for the moment I could have 
 sworn that woman was some one else. May I ask who 
 she is exactly ? ** 
 
 "Sure, Sir Baldwin," replied Mrs. Uniacke, "and 
 that* s what I thought we were to hear at last It*s 
 who she is we none of us know. And what does it 
 matter? She*i pretty and nice, and Vm just in love 
 
 188 
 
 I 
 
184 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 with her; but then nobody knows any more ^*oat ^ 
 her husband, and ro we talk." 
 
 A few more questions satisfied the judge that he 
 could not possibly have been mistaken, and he hedtateQ 
 a moment, for he was a pious man ; but Rachel's face, 
 combined with her nerve, had deepened an fanpression 
 which was now nearly a year old, and the tnperfluooa 
 proximity of an angular and aquilme lady, to whom 
 Sir Baldvan had not been introduced, but. who waa 
 openly hanging upon his words, drove the ^r^ man^t 
 last scruple to t)ie winds. 
 
 «Very deceptive, these likenesses,* said he, raising 
 his voice for the interloper's benefit; **in future I 
 ahall beware of them. I needn't tell you, Mn. 
 Uniacke, that I never before set eyes upon the lady 
 whom I fear I embarrassed by behaving as thou^ 
 
 I had." 
 
 Rachel was not less fortunate in her companion <rf 
 the moment which had so nearly witnessed her undoing. 
 Oac-eyed Hugh Woodgate saw nothing inexplicable in 
 Mrs. Steel's behaviour upon her introduction to Sir 
 Baldwin Gibson, and anyUiing he did see he attributed 
 to an inconvenient sense of that dignitary's greatness. 
 He 4id not think the matter worth mentioning to his 
 wife, when the Steels had dropped them at the Vicarage 
 gate, after a pleasant but somewhat silent CAre. 
 Neither did Rachel see fit to speak of it to her 
 husband. There was a certain unworthy satisfaction 
 in her keeping something from him. But again sha 
 
A MATCH FOR MRS. VENABLES 185 
 
 underrated his oncanDy powers of obsarvation, and yet 
 again he turned the tables upon her by a sudden 
 display of the very knowledge which she was painfully 
 ke^bg to herself. 
 
 **0f course you recognised the judge?** said Steel, 
 following his wife for once into her own apartmrat^ 
 where he immediately shut a door behind him and 
 another in front of Rachel, who stood at bay befoi« 
 the glitter in his ^es. 
 
 ''Of course,* she admitted, with irritating non- 
 dialanoe. 
 
 « And he you ? " 
 
 «I thought he did at first ; afterwards I was not so 
 rare." 
 
 "But I am !" exclaimed Steel through his teeth. 
 
 Rachel's face was a mixture of surprise and incredulity. 
 
 **How can you know?" she asked coldly. "You 
 were at least a hundred yards away at the time^ for 
 I saw yon with Moma Woodgate." 
 
 "And do you think my sight is not good for a 
 hundred yards," retorted Steel, " when you are at the 
 end of them ? I saw the whole thing— his confusion 
 and yours— but then 1 did not know who he was. 
 He must have been in the house when we arrived; 
 otherwise I should have taken good care that you 
 never met. I saw enough, however, to bring me up 
 in time to see and hear more. I heard the way Iw 
 was taUdng to you then; that was his damned good- 
 nature, and he has us at his mercy all the same." 
 
186 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 Bachd had never seen her husband in such m 
 passion ; indeed, she had never before known him in 
 a state of mind to justify the use of such a word. 
 He was paler than his wont, his eyes brighter, his 
 lips more bloodless. Rachel experienced a strange 
 sense of advantage, at once unprecedented and unfore- 
 seen, and with it an irresistible temptation to the sort 
 of revenge whidi she knew to be petty at the time. 
 But he had made her suflfer; for once it was his turn. 
 He could be cold as ice when she was not, could deny 
 her his confidence when she all but fell upon her knees 
 before him ; he should learn what it was to be treated 
 as he had treated her. 
 
 «*rm well aware of it,*' said Rachel, with a harsh 
 
 dry laugh, "though in point of fact I don't for a 
 
 moment believe that hell give me away. But really 
 
 I dont thmk it matters if he does." 
 
 Steel stared; it was wonderful to her to see his 
 
 face. 
 
 « It doesn't matter ? " he repeated m angry astonish- 
 ment 
 
 "Not to me," rejomed Rachel, bitterly. "You tell 
 
 me nothing. What can matter to me ? When you 
 can tell me why you felt compelled to marry me— 
 when you have the courage to tell me that— other 
 things may begin to matter agam I ** 
 
 Steel stared harder than before; he did not flinch, 
 but his eyes seemed to edge together as he stared, 
 and the glittering light in them to concentrate in one 
 
A BiATCH FOR MRS. VENABLES 187 
 
 baleful gleam. Yet it waa not a cruel look; it was 
 the look of a man who has sealed his lips upon one 
 p«nt for ever, and who views any questioning on that 
 point as an attempt upon Lis treasury. There was 
 more of self^efence than of actual hostility in the 
 compressed lips, the bloodless face^ the glaring eyes. 
 Then, with a shrug, the look, the resentment, and the 
 passion were shaken off, and Steel stepped briskly 
 to the inner door which he had shut in Rachel^s path. 
 Opening it, he bowed her through with a ceremony 
 conspicuous even in their ceremonious relations. 
 
 But Rachel nursed her contrariety, even to the extent 
 of a perverse satisfaction at her encounter with the 
 judge, and a fierce enjoyment of its still possible con- 
 sequences. The mood was neither logical nor generous, 
 and yet it was human enough in the actual draun- 
 stances of the case. At kst she had made him feel! 
 It had taken her the better part of a year, but here 
 at last was something that he reaUy felt And it had 
 to do with her; it was impending disaster to herself 
 which had brought about this change in her husband ; 
 she knew him too well not to acquit him of purely 
 selfish solicitude for his own good name and comfort- 
 able status in a society for which he had no real 
 regard. There was never a man less dependent upon 
 the good opinion of other men. In absolute independ- 
 ence of character, as in sheer strength of personality, 
 Steel stood by himself in the estimation of his wife. 
 Bat he had deceived her unnecessarily for weeks and 
 
188 THE SHADOW OF THE ROFE 
 
 months. He had lied to her. He had reliiaed her 
 his whole confidence when she begged him for it, and 
 when he knew how he could trust her. There was 
 some deep mystery underlying their marriage, he could 
 not deny it, yet he would not tell her what it was. 
 He had made her suffer needless pain ; it was his turn. 
 And yet, with all her resentment against him, and all 
 her grim savouring of the scandal which he seemed to 
 fear so much, there ran a golden thread of imacknow- 
 ledged contentment in the conviction that those feais 
 were all for her. 
 
 Outwardly she was callous to the last degree, reck- 
 less «a on the day she made this marriage, and as 
 light-hearted as it was possible to appear; but the 
 excitement of the coming dinner-party was no small 
 help to Rachel in the maintenance of this attitude. 
 It was to be a very large dinner-pariy, and Rachel*s 
 first in her own house; in any case she must have 
 been upon her mettle. Two dozen had accepted. 
 The Upthorpe party was coming in force ; if anybody 
 knew anything, it would be Mrs. Venables. What 
 would she do or say? Mrs. Venables was capable of 
 doing or of saying anything. And what might not 
 happen before the day was out ? 
 
 It was a stimulating situation for one so curiously 
 compact of courage and of nerves as the present 
 mistress of Normanthorpe House; and for once she 
 really was mistress, inspecting the silver with her own 
 eyes, arranging the flowers with her own hand^ and. 
 
A MATCH FOB MRS. VENABLES 189 
 what was more diflScult, the order in which the people 
 
 T *^"** ,f ' ^" *^"* '"«^' ^ ^^ ™ ««>ctum, 
 when M«. Venables did the one thing which Hachei 
 DBa not dreamt of her doing. 
 
 She caUed at three in the afternoon, and sent her 
 xuune upstairs. 
 
 Rachel»s heart made itself felt; but she was not 
 afraid. Something was commg earlif- than she had 
 thought; she was chiefly curious to know what Her 
 first impuke was to have Mrs. Venables brought up- 
 stairs, and to invoke her aid in the arrangement of the 
 table before that lady could open fire. Rachel disliked 
 the great cold drawing-room, and felt that she must 
 be at i. disadvantage in any interview there. On the 
 other hand, if this was a hostile visit, the visitor could 
 not be treated with too much consideration. And so 
 the servant was dismissed with word that her mistress 
 would not be a moment; nor was Rachel very many 
 She glanced in a glass, but that was aU; she might 
 have been tidier, but not easily more animated, con- 
 fident, and alert She had reached tiie landing when 
 she returned and coUected all ti,e cards which she had 
 Veen trying to arrange; they made quite a pack; and 
 Rachel laughed as she took them downstairs with her. 
 Mrs. Venables sat in solitary stiffness on the highest 
 diair she had been able to find; neither Sybil nor 
 Vera was in attendance; a tableful of light Hteratui* 
 was at her elbow, but Mrs. Venables sat with folded 
 hands. 
 
190 THE SHADOW OF THE BOFE 
 
 "Thif is too good of youP cried Radiel, greeting 
 her in a manner redeemed from hypocriiy by a touch 
 of irresistible irony. **You know my inexperience, 
 and you have come to tell me things, haye you not ? 
 You could not have come at a better time. How do 
 you fit in twenty-six people at one table ? I wanted 
 to have two at each end, and it can't be done i " 
 
 Mrs. Venables suppressed a smile suggestive of some 
 unconscious humour in these remarks, but sat more 
 upiight than ever in her chair, with a hard light in 
 the bright' brown eyes that stared serenely into 
 Rochel*s own. 
 
 " I cannot say I came to offer you my assistance, 
 Mrs. Sted. I only take liberties with very intimate 
 friends.^ 
 
 <* Then I wonder what can have brought you ! ^ 
 
 And Rachel returned both the smile and the stare 
 with irritating self-control. 
 
 **I will tell you," said Mrs. Venables, weightily. 
 '* There is a certain thing being said of you, Mrs. 
 Steel , e^ I wish to know from ) jur own lips whether 
 there is any truth in it or none." 
 
 Radiel held up her hands as quick as thought. 
 
 **My dear Mrs. Venables, you can't mean that you 
 are bringing me a piece of unpleasant gossip on the 
 very afternoon of my first dinner-party ? " 
 
 " It remains with you," said Mrs. Venables, changing 
 colour at this hit, ** to say whether it is mere gossip or 
 not. You must know, Mrs. Steel, though we were all 
 
A BiATCH FOR BIRS. VENABLES 191 
 
 quite durmed with your husband from the moment 
 be cune among ua, we none of ur had the least idea 
 where he came firom— >nor have we yet." 
 
 «You are speaking for the neighbourhood?'' in- 
 quired Rachel, sweetly. 
 
 "I am," said Mrs. Venables. 
 
 "Town and county," murmured Rachel. «And 
 you mean that nobody in the district knew anything at 
 all about my husband ? " 
 
 "Not a thing," said Mrs. Venables. 
 
 « And yet you caUed on him ; and yet you took pity 
 on him, poor lonely bachelor that he was!" 
 
 This shaft also left its momentary mark upon the 
 visitor's complexion. "The same applies to you," she 
 went on the more severely. «We had no idea who 
 you were, either ! " 
 
 "And now?" said Rachel, still mistress of the situa- 
 tion, for she knew so well what was coming. 
 
 "And now we hear, and I wish to know whether it 
 is true or not Were you, or were you not, the Mrs 
 Minchin who was tried last winter for her husband's 
 murder?" 
 
 Rachel looked steadily into the hard brown eyes 
 unta a oertam hardness came into her own. * 
 
 "I dont quite know what right you think you have 
 to ask me such a question, Mrs. Venables. Is it the 
 u«ial thing to question people who have made a 
 ^nd mw'.iage-supposing I am one-«bout their 
 first? I fended myself that it was considered bad 
 
im THE SHADOW OF THE BOTE , 
 
 tarm ; but then I am ftill very ignorant of the manners 
 and customs in this part of the world. Since you ask 
 it, however, you shall have your answer.** And Rachel's 
 Toice rang out through t.e room, as she rose majestically 
 firom the chair which she had drawn opposite that of 
 the visitor. " Yes, Mrs. Venables, I am that unhappy 
 woman. And what thai?** 
 
 <*No wonder you were silent about yourself, said 
 Mrs. Venables, in a vindictive murmur. **No wonder 
 we never ^ven heard——'* 
 
 "And what then?" repeated Rachel, with a quiet 
 and compelling scorn. ** Does it put one outside the 
 local pale to keep to oneself any painful incident in 
 one's own career? Is an accusation down here the 
 same thing as a conviction? Is there nothing to 
 choose between * guilty* and 'not guilty*?** 
 
 **You must be aware,** proceeded Mrs. Venables, 
 without taking any notice of these questions — ^"indeed, 
 you caimot fail to be perfectly well aware — that a laige 
 proportion of the public was dissatisfied with the verdict 
 in your case.** 
 
 **Your husband, for one!** Rachel agreed, with a 
 scornful laugh. **He would have come to see me 
 hanged ; he told me so at his own table.** 
 
 " You never would have been at his table,** retorted 
 Mrs. Venables, with some effect, " if he or I hcul dreamt 
 who you were ; but now that we know, jpu may be 
 quite sure that none of us will sit at yours.** 
 
 And Mrs. Venables rose up in all her might and 
 
A MATCH FOR MBS. VSNABLBS 19s 
 
 «A» jrm .till .p«J„„g fo, a^ dirtrictf - innnl-J 
 
 lUcbd. conquering . ™«„t lip to3^ T^"^ 
 »d putting it with W faert !!C^ '•'^"• 
 
 "other. wiU .Delk fn, f». , *^* d'gnity; 
 
 tuOT win speak for themselves ; and vou will ^J 
 
 leara in what liffht von .«» ... i jV ^ ^' "****" 
 
 d«» «d to.pe.k to OH. „ you a " "eTT It 
 ■"L"™* '^ «"*•••■•-'* i.f« 4. l.rttin.;!^"'' *" 
 W,th tl«t Mm Viable. «uled to the door by whiA 
 •I" »M to make hsr triumphmt exit hnf l . 
 
 tk-hoid. «Hii be .!^ b?i^:r: f - **« 
 
 bin., «d „ be clo^d it be tu^TL^^r,^'^ 
 k^. 'n.«e w„ tbe olber door that l«iZ,ul * 
 ^.^ int. Jhe gaMen. Witbo^t^^-^t 
 
 nujied to tbe imprironed Udy. " »m ne 
 
 " You ere quite rigbt, Jfo. Venahle, t* j .t . 
 
 -W'U yp„ b.v. the goodness to let n.e go?- 
 
 o 
 
m THE SHADOW OF THE BOPS 
 
 tlie tiiito^ d«iiMiid«d, wUtt and tnmUing, baft yet not 
 aniiDimriivt in her tremendmie indlgnatkm. 
 
 "With the gmteft decrity," replied Sted, *<when 
 yoa Lftve epologiied to my wife.** 
 
 Bechel itood by without a word. 
 
 **For what?** cried Mn. Venables. •*For telling 
 her what the whole world thinks othmf Nerer ; and 
 you will unlock that door >his instant, unless you wish 
 my husband to— to-^ionewhip you within an bch of 
 your life!** 
 
 Steis! merdy smiled; he could well aflbrd to do 
 •o, lithe and supple as he still was, with flabby Mr. 
 VcnaUes in his mind''s eye. 
 
 **I mig^t have known what to aspect in this house^** 
 amtinued Mrs. Voiables, in a yoioe hoarse with 
 r jppressed passion, ** what unmanly and ungentlemanly 
 behaviour, what cowardly insults! I mi^t have 
 known!** 
 
 And she glanced from the windows to the bells. 
 
 **It is no use ringing,** said Steel, with a shake 
 of his snowy head, **or doing anything else of the 
 sort I am the only person on the pronises who can 
 let you out; your footman could not get in if be 
 tried ; but if you like I will shout iu him to try. As 
 for insults, you have insulted my wife most cruelly 
 and gratuitously, for I happen to have iteard more 
 than you evidoitly imagine. In fact, *insult* is 
 hardly the word for what even I have heard you 
 say ; let me warn you, madam, that you have sailed 
 
A MATCH FOR MRS. VENABLE8 195 
 
 p«tty clo« to th. wind «l«.dy in the wy of 
 
 indictable ilander. Yon M»m ♦« /I * it . 
 
 . . , J ,®" •*"» *® w»««t thftt my wife 
 
 w tri«i «d .oquitf • by twelve of her feUow- 
 
 foigetftilne- before you leave this room.'' 
 "Never!" 
 Steel looked at his watch and sat down 
 
 M^ Venables; otherwise you would have seen ere 
 till, which of u. will have to give in sooner or later 
 I cen only teU you which of us never will » " 
 And Rachel stiU stood by without a word. 
 
HXfpH 
 
 CHAPTER XVU 
 
 nUXNM IM VIFD 
 
 That afternoon the Vicar of Marley was paying 
 house-to-hl>use visits among his humbler parishbners. 
 Though his conTersation was the weak point to which 
 attention has been drawn, Hugh Woodgate neverthe- 
 less possessed the not too common knack of chatting 
 with the poor. He had the simplicity which made 
 them kin, and his sympathy, unlike that of so many 
 persons who consider themselves sympathetic, was 
 not exclusively reserved for the death-bed and the 
 ruined aome. He wrote letters for the illiterate, 
 found places for the un^ioploycd, knew one baby 
 from another as soon as their own mothers, and with 
 his own hand sent to the local papers full reports 
 of the village matches in which he rarely scored a 
 run. Until this August afternoon he was not aware 
 that he had made an actual enemy in aU the years 
 that he had spent in Delverion, first as an over- 
 worked Northborough curate, and latterly as one of 
 the busiest country vicars m the diocese. But towards 
 five o'clock, as Mr. Woodgate was returning to the 
 
 199 
 
FHIEND6 IN NEED nyy 
 
 Viomge, a cwriage and pair, iweeplng part him 
 in •cloud of dust, left the clergyman quite petrified 
 on the wwdside, hi. wft felt hat .till in hi. hand ; 
 Uie carriage contained Mrs. Venable.. who ;d 
 iimpl/ .tar«d him in the face when he took 
 it off. 
 
 Woodgate wa. quite excited when he reached the 
 Vicarage. Moma met him in the garden. 
 
 "Mr*. VenaWe. cut me dead !" he cried while they 
 wwe rail yardfi apart 
 
 « I am not «irpri.edr replied Moma, who wa. in a 
 rtate of .oppreued excitement herwlf. 
 *»But what on earth i. the meaning of it?" 
 « She has ju.t been here." 
 "Well?" 
 
 "She i. not likely to come apain. Oh, Hugh, I 
 don t know how to teU you ! If you agrr with her 
 for a moment, if you .ee any pc^ible excu« for the 
 woman, it will break ray heart ! " 
 
 M«nr;. fine eye. were filled with tear.; the right 
 
 from .tohd Hugh, and he took her hand in hi. own 
 great Mothmg grasp. 
 
 about ,t. Have I ever taken anybody', part again.t 
 jou, Moma, that you .hould think me likely to begin 
 
 "gnt and I wa. wrong." 
 
I 
 
 i! ! 
 
 198 THE SHADOW OF THE HOPE 
 
 Hugh reflected imtU thej reached the garden-seat 
 upon the lawn. 
 
 "Well, not openly, at all events," said he; "and 
 not under any drcumstances I can conceive in which 
 Mrs. Venables was the other person." 
 
 " But she isn't the only other person ; that b just it. 
 Oh, Hugh, you do like Rachel, don't you ?" 
 
 "I do," he said emphatically. "But surely you 
 haven't been quarrelling with her ? " 
 
 "No, indeed! And that is exactly why I have 
 quarrelled' with Mrs. Venables, because I wouldn't 
 refuse to go to the dinner-party at Normanthorpe 
 
 to-night!" 
 
 Wood^te was naturally nonplussed. 
 
 *♦ Wouldn't refuse ? " he echoed. 
 
 "Yes. She actually asked me not to go; and now 
 I do believe she has gone driving round to ask every- 
 body else ! " 
 
 Woodgate's amazement ended in a guflkw. 
 
 "And that is what you quarrelled about!" he 
 roared. "The woman must be mad. What reason 
 did she give?" 
 
 « She had a reason, dear." 
 
 " But not a good one ! There can be no excuse for 
 such an action, let alone a good reason ! " 
 
 Moma looked at her husband with sidelong anxiety, 
 wondering whether he would say as much when he 
 had heard all. .She was sure enough of him. But 
 as yet they had never differed on a point that mattered, 
 
FRIENDS IN NEED 
 
 199 
 
 and the one which was coming mattered infinitely to 
 Monia. 
 
 ** Hugh,'' she began, "do you remember being with 
 Rachel yesterday at Homby, when she was introduced 
 to Sir Baldwin Gibson?"* 
 
 "PerfecUy,"' said Hugh. 
 
 "He is the judge, you know.'' 
 
 "Yes, yes." 
 
 "Did you think they looked as though they had 
 ever seen each other before?" 
 
 The vicar revolved where he sat, lookmg his wife 
 suddenly in the &ce, while a light broke over his 
 own. 
 
 "Now you speak of it," he cried, "they did! It 
 didn^ strike me at the time. I was rather surprised 
 at her being so nervous, but that never occurred to 
 me as the explanation. Yet now I have no doubt 
 about it. You don't mean to say he knows some- 
 thing against Mrs. Steel, and has been giving her 
 away ? " 
 
 " No, dear, the judge has not ; but you were not 
 the only one who saw the meeting; and other eyes 
 are more suspicious than yours, Hugh. Darling, you 
 would not think the worse of Rachel for keeping her 
 past life to herself, would you, especially if it had been 
 a very unhi^py one ? " 
 " Of course not ; it is no business of ours." 
 "So you told Mrs. Venables the day she came to 
 tell us Mr. Steel was married, and so I told her 
 
 m^ 
 
tdO THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 again this afternoon. However, that is not' her main 
 point, and there is another thing I am still surer 
 yon would never do. If a person had been put upon 
 her trial, and found not guilty in open court, you 
 would not treat her as though she had been found 
 guilty, would you— even thouj^ the verdict had come 
 as a surprise?^ 
 
 ** Of course I would not, Moma ; no decent Christian 
 would, I should hope ! But do you mean to tell me 
 that Mrs. Steel has been tried for something ?^ 
 
 " Yes ; and by Justice Gibson ! " 
 
 "Poor thing,^ said Hugh Woodgate, after h, 
 pause. 
 
 Moma took his hand. 
 
 **My dear, she is, or rather she was, Mrs. 
 Minchin!* 
 
 " What ! Tlie woman who was tried for murdering 
 her husbuid?" 
 
 ** Yes — and acquitted." 
 
 "Good heavens!" exclaimed the vicar, and for a 
 minute that was all. ♦* Well," he continued, « I didn't 
 re i the case, and I am glad that I didn't, but I 
 remember, of course, what was said about it at the 
 time. But what does it matter what is said? I 
 imagine the jury knew what they were about; they 
 listened to the evidence for a week, I believe, which 
 other people read in a few minutes. Of course they 
 knew best ! But how long have you known this, 
 Moma?" 
 
 
FRIENDS IN NEED 
 
 801 
 
 "Never until this afternoon; there was no reason 
 why I should." 
 
 " Of course there was not." 
 **Then you agree with me, Hugh?" 
 And Moma was transfigured. 
 
 "Of course I agree with you! But I want to 
 know more. Do you mean to tell me that a woman 
 of education and ability, who calls herself a Christian, 
 like Mrs. Venables, has actually backed out of this 
 dmner-party on this account, and asked others to do 
 the same ? " 
 
 "She certainly asked me, point-blank," said Moma. 
 "And when I refused, and persisted in my refusal, she 
 flounced out in a rage, and must have cut you dead 
 next minute." 
 
 "Incredible!" exclaimed Woodgate. "I mean, she 
 must have had some further reason." 
 
 "Oh, but she had! I forgot tr» tell you in my 
 anxiety to know what you thought She came to 
 me straight from Normanthorpe, where they had 
 insulted her as she had never been insulted in her 
 life before 2 " 
 " Who ? Steel or his wife ? " 
 " Mr. Steel, I fancy. Mrs. Venables had no name 
 bad enough for him, but she brought it on herself, 
 and I think more of him than I ever did before. 
 You know that Mrs. Vinson, the Invernesses' new 
 agent's wife?" 
 "I do. Langholm took her in to dinner the night 
 
mm THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 we dined at Upthorpe, and she was ki \h» ofBng 
 yesterday when Mrs. Steel was talking to the 
 judge." 
 
 ** Exactly ! It appears that it was Mrs. Vinson who 
 first suspected something, the very nigbt you mention ; 
 and yesterday her suspicions were confirmed to her 
 own satisff^ction. At all events she felt justified in 
 mentioning them to Mrs. Venables, who instantly 
 drove over to ask Rachel, to her face if there was any 
 truth in the rumour that she was or had been Mrs. 
 Mindiin." , 
 
 "Well?'' 
 
 ** Rachel told her it was perfectly true.* 
 
 "Good!'' 
 
 <*And then the fat was in the fire; but what 
 happened exactly it was impossible to gather from 
 Mrs. Voiables. I never saw a woman so beside her- 
 self with rage. She came in incoherent, and went 
 out inarticulate ! From the things she said of him, 
 I could only guess thr.t Mr. Steel had come upon 
 the scene and insulted her its she deserved to be in- 
 sulted. But I would give a good deal to know what 
 did happen." 
 
 « Would you really ? " 
 
 Moma started to her feet. The vicar rose more 
 slowly, after sitting for some moments in mute con- 
 fusion. It was Mrs. Steel who stood before them on 
 their lawn, pale as death, and ten years older since 
 the day before, yet Wth a smile upon her bloodless 
 
FRIENDS IN NEED 
 
 108 
 
 lips, which appeared indeed to express some faint 
 irresistible amusement. 
 
 "Would you really like to know?'' she repeated, 
 standing at a distance from them, her great eyes 
 travelling from one to the other. "It is strange, 
 because I had come on purpose to tell you both that 
 and all the rest — but especially all the rest — ^in which 
 it seems Mrs. Venables has been before me." She 
 paused an instant, and the comers of her sad mouth 
 twitched just once. " What my husband did,** said 
 Rachel, " was to lock the doors and refuse to let her 
 out until she had b^ged my pardon.'' 
 
 "I hope she did so," said Hugh Woodgate, with 
 the emphasis which often atoned for the inadequacy 
 of his remarks. 
 
 "In about three minutes," replied Rachel, dryly, 
 with some pride but no triumph in her tone. 
 
 Moma had not spoken. Now she took a quick step 
 forward, her eyes brimming. But Rachel held up her 
 hand. 
 
 " You are sure you realise who I am ? " 
 
 "Yes, Rachel." 
 
 "Rachel Minchinl" added Rachel, harshly. "The 
 notorious Mrs. Minchin— the Mrs. Minchin whom Mr. 
 Venables would have come to see hanged ! " 
 
 " Hush, Rachel, hush ! " 
 
 "Then be honest with me — mind, honest— not kind ! 
 You would not have said what Mrs. Venables said to 
 me; she said that all the wor.J believed me guilty. 
 
a04 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 You would not have said that, Morna; but are you 
 sure you would not have said it in your heart ? Can 
 you look me in the face and tell me you don't believe 
 it, like all the rest of the world ? ' 
 
 There was no faltering of the firm sweet voice; it 
 was only unutterably sad. 
 
 And Morna answered it only with a sob, as she 
 flung her arms round RacheFs neck, while her husband 
 waited with outstretched hand. 
 
(( 
 
 CHAKTER XVIII 
 
 THBY WHICH WEEK BIDDJEN " 
 
 The rose-covered cottage of Charles Langholm's dreams, 
 which could not have come true in a more charming 
 particular, stood on a wooded hill at the back of a 
 village some three miles fix)m Normanthorpe. It was 
 one of two cottages under the same tiled roof, and in 
 the other there lived an admirable couple who supplied 
 aU material wants of the simple life which the novelist 
 led when at work. In his idle intervals the place knew 
 him not ; a nomadic tendency was given free play, and 
 the man was a wanderer on the face of Europe. But 
 he wandered less than he had done from London, 
 finding, in this remote but fragrant comer of the 
 earth, that peace which twenty years of a strenuous 
 manhood had taught him to value more than down- 
 right happiness. 
 
 Its roses were not the only merit ot this ideal re- 
 treat, though in the summer months they made it 
 difficult for one with eyes and nostrils to appreciate 
 the others. There was a delightful room running 
 right thi-ough the cottage; and it was here that 
 
toe THE SHADOW OF THE BOPE 
 
 LMgholm worked, ate, ■moked, wad, and had ^b 
 daily being; hi» bath was in the room adjoining, 
 and bit bed in another adjoining that Of the upper 
 floor he made no um ; it was filled with the neglected 
 furniture of a more substantial establishment, and 
 Langholm seldom so much as set foot upon the stairs. 
 The lower rooms were very simply famished. There 
 was a really old oak bureau, and some solid, com- 
 fortable chairs. The pictures were chiefly photographs 
 of other writers. There were better pictures deep in 
 
 dust upstairs. 
 
 An artist in temperament, if not in attainment, 
 Langholm had of late years found the ups and downs 
 of his own work supply all the excitement that was 
 necessary to his life ; it was only when the work was 
 done that his solitude had oppressed him ; but neither 
 the one nor the other had been the case of late weeks. 
 His new book had been written under the spur of an 
 external stimulus; it had not written itself, like all 
 the more reputable members of the large but short- 
 lived family to which it belonged. Langholm had not 
 felt lonely in the breathing spaces between the later 
 chapters. On the contrary, he would walk up and 
 down among his roses with the animated £ace of one 
 on the happy heighte of intercourse with a kindred 
 spirit, when in reality he was quite alone. But the 
 man wrote novels, and withal believed in them at the 
 time of writing. It is true that on om casion, when 
 the Steels came to tea, the novelist walked his garden 
 
"THEY WHICH WEBB BroDEN** «07 
 
 with the 0elf-Mune ndiant fkoe with which ht had 
 Utely taken to walking it al<»ie; but that also was 
 natural enough. 
 
 The change came on the very day he finished his 
 book, when Langholm made himself presentable and 
 rode off to the garden-party at Hornby Manor in 
 spirits worthy of the occasion. About seven of the 
 same evening he dismounted heavily in the by-lane out- 
 sule the cottage, and pushed his machine througfat he 
 widiet, a different : oan. A detail declared his depres- 
 rion to the woman next door, who was preparing him 
 a more substantial meal than lAngfaolm ever thought 
 of ordering for himself; he went straight through to 
 his rosea without changing his party coat for the out- 
 at-elbow Norfolk jacket in which he had spent that 
 summer and the last. 
 
 The garden behind the two cottages was all Lang- 
 holm's. The whole thing, levelled, would not have 
 made a single lawn-tennis court, nor yet a practice 
 pitch of proper length. Yet this little garden con- 
 tained almost everything that a garden need have. 
 Tboe wen tall pines among the timber to one side, 
 and through these set the sun, so that on the hottest 
 days the gardoi was in sufficient shadow by the 
 time tlw morning's work was done. There was a little 
 grass-plot, large enough for a basket-chair and a rug. 
 Then waa a hedge of Penzance sweet-briar opposite 
 the back-doOT and the window at which Langholm 
 wrote, and yet this hedge broke down in the very 
 
 ^^^ 
 
THE SHADOW OF THE HOPE 
 
 nick and place to give tl:e Ivuky writor a I<mg glirapte 
 acroM a green valley, with dim woods uptm the oppo* 
 ■ite hilL And then there we-^ the roies, planted by 
 the last cottager — a retired g. .ener — a greater artist 
 than his successor— a men who knew what roses were ! 
 
 Over the house clambered a '^Villiara Allen Richard- 
 ion and two Gloires de Dijon, these last a-blowing, 
 the first still resting from a profuse yield in June ; 
 in the south-east comer, a Crimson RamH^r was at 
 its ripe red height; and Caroline Testout, Mai^garet 
 Dickson, \a France, Madame Lambard, and Maman 
 Cochet, blushed from pale pink to richest red, or 
 remained coldly but beautifully white, at the foot of 
 the Penzance briars. Langholm had not known one 
 rose from another when he came to live among this 
 galaxy ; now they were his separate, familiar, individual 
 friends, each with its own character in his eyes, its 
 own charm for him; and the man^s soul was the 
 sweeter for each summer spent in their midst. But 
 to-night they called to closed nostrils and blind eyes. 
 And the evening sun, reddening the upper stems of 
 the pines, and warming the mellow tiles of his dear 
 cottage, had no more to say to Langholm^s spirit 
 than his beloved roses. 
 
 The man had emerged from the dreamy, artistic, 
 sesthetic existence into which he had drifted through 
 living alone amid so much simple beauty ; he was in 
 real, human, haunting trouble, and the manlier man 
 for it already. 
 
*«THEY WHICH WERE BIDDEN" tOO 
 
 CouWhebemi,takenafter«U? No;themo«he 
 pondemi, the more convinced he felt Eveiythinu 
 pointed to the «me conclusion, beginning with that 
 fir-t dinner-partj .t Upthorpe, and that fi«t conver- 
 ■ation of which he remembered every word. Mw 
 Sted was Mr.. Minchin-the notorious Mn,. Minchin 
 -the Mn. Minchin who had been tried for her 
 husband, murder, and acquitted to the horror of a 
 righteous world. 
 
 And he had been going to write a book about her 
 and it was she herself who had given him the idea • * 
 But w» it ? IT^ere had been much light talk about 
 Mrs. Steel, novel, and the plot that Mrs. Steel had 
 given Langholm, but that view of the matter had 
 been more of a standing joke than an intell*^ual bond 
 between them. It was strange to think of it in the 
 former light to-night 
 
 Langholm recalled more than one converaation upon 
 the same subject. It had had a fascination for Rachel 
 which somehow he was sorry to remember now. Then' 
 he recoUected the one end to all these conversations, 
 and his momentaiy regret was swept away by a rush 
 of sympathy which it did him good to feel. They 
 had ended invariably in her obtaining from him, on 
 one cunmng pretext or another, a fresh assurance of 
 Ins behef m Mrs. Minchin's innocence. Langholm 
 nuliated among his roses as his memoiy convinced 
 him of this. Rachel had not talked about her case 
 and his plot for the morbid excitement of discussing 
 
 •\ 'M 
 
•10 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 htntlf with unothtr, but for tht loUd and whokwuM 
 latk&ctioQ of heftring yefc agAin that one other dii- 
 beU«Ted in h«r guilt 
 
 And did h« not? Langholm itood itill in tho 
 •ocnted dusli at he asked hii heart of hearts the point- 
 Uanlc question. And it was a crisper step that he 
 resumed, with a fisoe more radiant than before. 
 
 Yes, analytical as he was, there at least he was 
 satisfied with himself. Thank God, he had always 
 been of one opinion on that one point ; that he had 
 made up jiis mind about her long before he knew the 
 whilom Mrs. Minchin in the flesh, and had let her 
 know which way almost as long before the secret of 
 her identity could possibly have dawned upon him. 
 Now, if the worst came to the wont, his sincerity at 
 least could not be questioned. 0* i might pretend, 
 others again be unconsciously prejudiced in favour of 
 their friend ; he at least was above either suspicion. 
 Had he not argued her case with Mr«. Venables at the 
 time, and had he not told her so on the very evening 
 that they met ? 
 
 Certainly Langholm felt in a strong position, if ever 
 the worst came to the worst ; it illustrated a Uttle 
 weakness, however, that he himself foresaw no such 
 immediate eventuality. There had been a very brief 
 encounter between two persons at a garden-party, and 
 a yet more brief confusion upon either side. Of all 
 this there existed but half-a-dozen witnesses, at the 
 outside, and Langholm did not credit the other five 
 
"THEY WHICH WERE BIDDEN'' «ll 
 
 with hi. own trained indght and powen of observation j 
 he Airthermore reflected that those other., even if a. 
 dose obwrver. a. hini«»lf, could not poMiUy have put 
 two and two together a. he had done. And this was 
 •ound ; but Langholm had a fatal knack of overlooking 
 the ladjr whom he had Uken in to dinner at Upthorpe 
 HaU, and Maroely noticed at Hornby Manor. Cock- 
 •are a. he himwlf was of the significance of that which 
 he had seen with his own eyes, the observer flatteml 
 himself that he was the only real one present; 
 remembered the special knowledge which he had to 
 assist his vision; and relied properly enough upon the 
 silence of Sir Baldwin Gibson. 
 
 The greater the secret, however, the more piquant 
 the situation for one who was in it; and there were 
 momenta of a sleepless night b which Langholm found 
 nothing new to regret. But he was in a quandary 
 none the less. He could scarcely meet Mrs. Steel 
 again without a word about the prospective story, 
 which they had so often discussed together, and upon 
 which he was at last free to embark ; nor could he 
 touch upon that theme without disclosing the new 
 knowledge which would bum him until he did. Charles 
 Langholm and Rachel Steel had two or three qualities 
 in common; an utter inability to pretend was one, if 
 you do not happen to think it a defect 
 
 As a rule when he had finished a rapid bit of 
 writing, Langholm sat down to correct, and a depitMs- 
 mg task his spent brain always found it; but for once 
 
«1« THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 he let it beat him altogether. After a moming*s tussle 
 with one unfortunate chapter, the desperate author 
 sent ofF the rest in their sins, and rode his bicycle to 
 abolish thought. But that mild pastime fell lament- 
 ably short of its usual efficacy. It was not one of his 
 heroines who was worrying the novelist, but a real 
 woman whom he liked and her husband whom he did 
 not. The husbbnd it was who had finished matters by 
 entering the field of speculation during the moming^s 
 work. It may be confessed that Langholm had not by 
 any means disliked him the year before. 
 
 What was the secret of this second mamage on the 
 part of one who had been so recently and so miserably 
 married ? Was it love ? Langholm would not admit 
 it for a moment. Steel did not love his wife, and there 
 was certainly nothing to love in Steel. Langholm had 
 begun almost to hate him ; he told himself it was because 
 Steel did not even pretend to love his wife, but let 
 strangers see the abnormal terms on which they lived. 
 
 What, then, was the explanation — the history — ^the 
 excuse ? They were supposed to have married on the 
 Continent ; that was one of the few statements vouch- 
 safed by Steel, and he happened to have made it in 
 the first instance to Langholm himself. Was there 
 any truth in it ? And did Steel know the truth con- 
 cerning his wife ? 
 
 Your imaginative man is ever quick to form a 
 theory based upon facts of his own involuntary in- 
 vention. Langholm formed numerous theories and 
 
"THEY WHICH WERE BIDDEN" 218 
 
 invented i r umerable ," cts during the four-and-twenty 
 hours of Jis present st, oration from the heroine and 
 the villain ^t theso roiiances. The likeliest of the lot 
 was the idea that the pair had really met abroad, at 
 some out-of-the-way place, where Rachel had been in 
 hiding from the world, and that in her despair of 
 receiving common justice from her kind, she had 
 accepted the rich man without telling him who she 
 was. His subspcjuent enlightenment was Langholm's 
 explanation of Steel's coldness towards his wife. 
 
 He wondered if it was the kind of coldness that 
 would ever be removed ; if Steel believed her guUty, it 
 never would. Langholm would not have admitted it, 
 was not even aware of it in his own introspective 
 mind, but he almost hoped that Steel was not 
 thoroughly convinced of his wife's innocence. 
 
 The night of the dinner-party was so fine and the 
 roads so clean that Langholm went ofi" on his bicycle 
 once more, making an incongruous figure in his dress- 
 suit, but pedalling sedately to keep cool. Fortune, 
 however, was against him, for they had begun clip- 
 ping those northern hedgerows, and an ominous bump- 
 ing upon a perfecUy flat road led to the discovery of 
 a puncture a long mUe from Normanthorpe. Thence 
 onward the unhappy cyclist had to choose between 
 running beside his machine and riding on the rims, 
 and between the two expedients arrived at last both 
 very hot and rather late. But he thought he must 
 be very kte; for he neither met, followed, nor was 
 
lii 
 
 «14 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 followed by any vehicle whatsoever in the drive ; and 
 the door did not open before Langholm rang, as it 
 does when they are still waiting for one. Then the 
 house seemed strangely silent when the door did open, 
 and the footman wore a curious expression as he 
 ushered the late comer into an empty drawing-room. 
 Langholm was now almost convinced that he had 
 made some absurd mistake, and the impression wa^i 
 not removed by the entry of Steel with his napkin in 
 one hand. 
 
 " Fve mistaken the night ! ^ exclaimed the perspiring 
 author. 
 
 ** Not a bit of it," replied Steel ; " only we thought 
 you weren't coming at all." 
 
 ^ Am I really t>o late as all that ? " 
 
 And Langholm began to wish he had mistaken the 
 night 
 
 *• No," said Steel, " only a very few minutes, and the 
 sin is ours entirely. But we thought you were staying 
 away, like everybody else." 
 
 " Like — everybody^lse ? " 
 
 ** My dear fellow," said Steel, smiling on the other's 
 bewilderment, ''I humbly apologise for having 
 classed you for an instant with the rank and file of 
 our delightful neighbours ; for the fact is that all but 
 two have made their excuses at the last moment. The 
 telegrams will delight you, one of these days ! " 
 
 '* There was none from me," declared Langholm, as 
 he began to perceive what had happened. 
 
"THEY WHICH WERE BIDDEN'' «6 
 
 "There wag not; and my wife was quite confident 
 that you would come ; so the fault is altogether mine. 
 Lan'-holm, you were almost at her heels when she was 
 introduced to the old judge yesterday ? " 
 
 «I was.'' 
 
 ** Have you guessed who she was— before she married 
 me — or has anybody told you ? " 
 
 ** I have guessed." 
 
 Steel stood silent for an instant, his eyes resting in 
 calm scrutiny upon the other, his mouth as firm and 
 fixed, his face fresh as a young man's, his hair like 
 spun silver in the electric light. Langholm looked 
 upon the man who was looking upon him, and he 
 could not hate him as he would. 
 
 "And '*'• you still desire to dine with us ?" inqutted 
 his host t ■ i. t. 
 
 " I do. ./ant to be in the way," faltered Lang* 
 holm, " on a painful " 
 
 "Oh, never mind that!" cried Steel. "Are you 
 quite sure you don't want to cut our acquaintance ? " 
 
 "You know I c'on't," said Langholm, bluntly. 
 
 "Then come in, pray, and take us as we are." 
 
 "One moment. Steel ! All this is inconceivable; do 
 you mean to say that your guests have thrown you 
 over on accoimt of — of " 
 
 "My wife having been a certain Mrs. Minchin 
 before she changed her name to Steel ! Yes, every one 
 of them, except our vicar and his wife, who are real 
 good finends." 
 

 816 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 **I am another,^ said Langholm through his big 
 moustache. 
 " The very servants are giving notice, one by one ! '* 
 *' I am her servant, too ! "" muttered Langholm, as 
 Steel stood aside to let him pass out first ; but this 
 time it was through his teeth, though from his heart, 
 and the words were only audible to himself. 
 
 i 
 
CHAPTER XIX 
 
 EACHEL S CHAMPION 
 
 The immediate ordeal proved less trying than Langholm 
 was prepared to find it. His vivid imagination had 
 pictured the long table, laid for six-and-twenty, with 
 four persons huddled at one end; but the telegrams 
 had come in time to have the table reduced to its 
 normal size, and Langholm found a place set for him 
 between Mrs. Woodgate and Mrs. Steel. He was only 
 embarrassed when Rachel rose and looked him in the 
 eyes before holding out her hand. 
 
 ^Have you heard?" she asked him, in a voice as 
 cold as her marble face, but similarly redeemed and 
 animated by its delicate and distant scorn. 
 
 " Yes," answered langholm, sadly ; " yes, I have 
 heard." 
 
 "And yet " 
 
 He interrupted her in another tone. 
 
 **1 kaow what you are going to say! I give you 
 warning, Mrs. Steel, I won't listen to it. No *and 
 yets * for me ; remember the belief I had, long before 
 I kiMw anything at all ! It ought not to be a whit 
 
 S17 
 
ai8 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 stronger for what I guessed yesterday for myself, and 
 what your husband has this minute confirmed. Yet 
 it is, if possible, ten thousand times stronger and more 
 sure ! " 
 
 " I do remember," said Rachel, slowly ; ««and, in my 
 turn, I believe what you say." 
 
 But her face did not alter as she took his hand ; 
 her own was so cold that he looked at her in alarm ] 
 and the whole woman seemed turned to stone. Yet 
 the dinner went on without further hitch ; it might 
 have been. the very smallest and homeliest affair, to 
 which only these guests had been invited. Indeed, the 
 menu had been reduced, like the table, by the unerring 
 tact of Rachel's husband, so that there was no undue 
 memorial to the missing one-and-twenty, and the whole 
 ordeal was curtailed. 
 
 There was, on the other hand, no blinking what had 
 happened, no pretence of ignoring the one subject 
 which was in everybody's thoughts. Thus Mrs. Wood- 
 gate exclaimed aloud, what she was thinking to herself, 
 that she would never speak to Mrs. Venables again in 
 all her life, and her husband told her across the table 
 that she had better not. Rachel thereupon put in her 
 word, to the effect that the Woodgates would cut 
 themselves off from everybody if they made enemies of 
 all who disbelieved m her, and she could not allow 
 them to do anything of the kind. Steel, again, specu- 
 lated upon the probable behaviour of the Uniackes and 
 the Invernesses, neither of these distinguished families 
 
RACHEL'S CHAMPION 
 
 fl9 
 
 having been invited to the dinner, for obvious reasons 
 arising from their still recent return to the country. 
 There was no efTort to ignore the absorbing topic 
 before the butler and his satellites, but the line was 
 drawn in the right place, excluding as it did any 
 reference to the rout of Mrs. Venables, and indeed 
 all details whatsoever. 
 
 The butler, however, and in a less degree the foot- 
 men, presented a rather interesting study during the 
 course of this momentous meal, had the professional 
 observer present been only a little less concerned for 
 his hostess. The butler was a pompous but capable 
 creature, whom Steel had engaged when he bought the 
 place. Tliough speedily reduced to a more respectful 
 servitude than he was accustomed to, the man had long 
 since ceased to complain of his situation, which carried 
 with it the highest wages and all arbitrary powers 
 over his subordinates. On the steps, at her deferred 
 departure, Mrs. Venables had screamed the secret of 
 his mistress's identity into the butler's ear. The butler 
 had risen with dignity to the occasion, and, after a 
 brief interview, resigned on the spot with all his men. 
 The mild interest was in the present behaviour of these 
 gentry, which was a rich blend of dignity and depression, 
 and betrayed a growing doubt as to whether the sinking 
 ship, that they had been so eager to abandon, was really 
 sinking after all. 
 
 Certainly the mastei's manner could not have been 
 very different at the head of his table as originally 
 
lil 
 
 ««0 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 laid. It was not festive, it was neither unnatur^Jly 
 jocular nor showj in any way, but it was delightfuUy 
 confident and serene. And the mistress was as calm in 
 her way, though for once hers was the colder way, and 
 it was the opinion of the pantry that she felt more 
 than she showed ; without a doubt Mrs. Woodgate 
 had more work to restrain, now her tears for Rachel, 
 and now her consuming indignation with the 
 absentees. 
 
 " Your wife feels it as much as mine," said Steel to 
 the vicar, when the gentlemen were alone at last; and 
 one of them could have struck him for the speech, one 
 who had insight and could feel himself. 
 
 "I wouldn't go so far as that," the good vicar 
 rejomed. « But Morna feels it dreadfully. Dreadfullv 
 she feels it!" ^ 
 
 "I almost wish we had kept the table as it was," 
 pursued Steel over his cigar, "and had one of these 
 flash-light photographs taken, as they do at all the 
 twopenny banquets nowadays. All that was left of 
 them— left of six-and-twenty ! " 
 
 His flippant tone made Langholm writhe, and drove 
 him into the conversation to change its tenor. He 
 asked by whom the evil had come. "Surely not the 
 judge ? " 
 
 " No," said Steel, with emphasis. " Not that I have 
 it for a fact, but I would put a thousand pounds upon 
 his charity and his discretion in such a matter. A kinder 
 and a sounder man does not exist, though I say it 
 
RACHELS CHAMPION 
 
 tSl 
 
 wha never met him in my life. But I heard every 
 word of my wife's trial, and I know the way the 
 judge took the case. There were a heap of women 
 witnesses, and her counsel was inclined to bully them ; 
 it was delightful to see the fatherly consideration that 
 they received as compensation from the benck" 
 
 Langholm's breath was taken away. Here was an 
 end to the likeliest theory that he had evolved that 
 morning among his roses. Steel had not married his 
 wife in ignorance of her life's tragedy; he had been 
 present, and probably fallen in love with her, at her 
 trial! Then why did he never behave as though he 
 were in love ? .\nd why must he expatiate upon the 
 judge's kindness to the female witnesses, instead of on 
 the grand result of the tried over which he had pre- 
 sided ? Did Steel himself entertain the faintest doubt 
 about the innocence of his wife, whose trial he had 
 heard, and whom he had married thereafter within a 
 few months at the most ? Langholm's brain buzzed, 
 even while he listened to what Hugh Woodgate was 
 saying. 
 
 " I am not surprised," remarked the vicar. " I re- 
 member once hearing that Sir Baldwin Gibson and 
 Lord Edgware were the two fairest judges on the 
 bench; and why, do you suppose? Because they 
 are both old athletes and Old Blues, trained from 
 small boys to give their opponents every possible 
 chance ! " 
 
 Steel nodded an understanding assent. Langholm, 
 
THE SHADOW OF THE ROFE 
 
 howevor, who was better qualified to iqipreciate tha 
 vicar's point, took no notice of it 
 
 "If it was not the judge,^ said hei **who in the 
 world is it who has sprung this mine? I saw them 
 meet, and as a matter of fact I did guess the truth. 
 But I had special reasons. I had thought, God forgive 
 me, of making something out of your wife's case, Steel, 
 little dreaming it was hers, though I knew it had no 
 ordinary fascination for her. But no one else can have 
 known that.'' 
 
 "You talked it over with her, however?" 
 
 / !i^ Steel had both black eyes upon thr novelist, 
 who made his innoomt admission with an embarrass- 
 ment due entirely to their unnecessarily pieixnng 
 scrutiny. 
 
 "You talked it over with her," repeated Steel, this 
 time in dry statement of fact, " at least on one occa- 
 sion, in the presence of a lady who had a prior claim 
 upon your conversation. That lady was Mrs. Vi;ison, 
 and it is she who ought to have a millstone 
 hanged about her neck, and be cast into the sea. 
 Don't look as though you deserved the same fate, 
 Langholm I It would have been better, perhaps, 
 if you had paid more attention to Vinson's wife and 
 less to mine ; but she is the last woman in the world 
 to blame you — naturally ! And now, if you are ready, 
 we will join them, Woodgate." 
 
 Sensitive as aU his tribe, and himself both gentle 
 by nature and considerate of others accoitiing to hU 
 
 mmm 
 
RACHELYI CHAMPION 
 
 lights, which thoughtleuness might turn down or 
 passion blur, but which burnt steadily and brightly 
 in the main, Charles Langholm felt stung to the soul 
 by the last few words, in which Hugh Woodgate 
 noticed nothing amiss. Steel's tone was not openly 
 insulting, but rather that of banter, misplaced per- 
 haps, and in poor taste at such a time, yet ostensibly 
 good-natured tuid innocent of ulterior meaning. But 
 Langholm \?as not deceived. ITiere was an ulterior 
 meaning to him, and a very unpleasant one withal. 
 Yet he did not feel unjustifiably insulted ; he looked 
 within, and felt justly rebuked; not for anything 
 he had said or done, but for what he found in 
 his heart at that moment. Langholm entered the 
 drav/ing-room in profound depression, but his state of 
 mind was no longer due to anything that had just 
 been said. 
 
 The scene awaiting him was surely calculated to 
 deepen that dejection. Rachel had left the gentle- 
 men with the proud mien and the unbroken spirit 
 which she had maintained at table without trace of 
 effort ; they found her sobbing on Moma Woodgate's 
 shoulder, in distress so poignant and so pitiful that 
 even Steel stopped short upon the threshold. Tn an 
 instant she was on her feet, the tears still thick in 
 her noble eyes, but the spirit once more fi.light behind 
 the tears. 
 
 "Don't go!" she begged them, in a voice that 
 pierced one heart at Irast " Stop and help me, fw 
 
 *^j!^y ■•<■-£ -jTw^r 
 
THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 Ood*i sake ! I can't bear it. I am not strong enouf^. 
 I can onlj pretend to bear it, for an hour, before the 
 aervants. Even that has almost maddened me, the 
 effort, and the shame.^ 
 
 *' Hie shame is on others,"" said Steel, gravely enough 
 now, ** and not on you. And who are those others, I 
 should like to know ? ind whnt does it matter what 
 they think or say? A hole-and-corner district like 
 this is not the world t "^ 
 
 Rachel shook her head sadly; her beautiful eyes 
 were dry how, and only the more lustrous for the 
 tears that they had shed. Langholm saw nothing 
 else. 
 
 ** But it is the world,"* she asserted. ** It is part of the 
 world, and the same thing would happen in any other 
 part. It would happen in London, and everywhere 
 else as soon as I became known. And henceforth I 
 mean to be known ! ^ cried Rachel, wilfully ; ** there 
 shall be no more hiding who I was, or am ; that is the 
 way to make them think the worst when they find 
 out. But is it not disgraceful ? I was acquitted, 
 and yet I am to be treated as though I had been 
 merely pardoned. Is that not a disgi-ace to common 
 humanity ? "" 
 
 ** Humanity is not so common as you imagine,"" 
 remarked SteeL 
 
 **It is un-Christian ! "" cried Hugh Woodgate, with 
 many repetitions of the epithet. 
 
 Langholm said nothing. His eyes never left Rachers 
 
HACHEL'S CHAMPION ttt 
 
 &«. NdtW did Ae meet them for « i„.tant, nor 
 h~l Ae . look for Hugh Woodgaf or even for hi. 
 wife. It w« to her husband that Rachel had spoken 
 •rery word , ,t was nearest him she stood, in his face 
 only that she gazed. 
 
 "Are you going to let the disgrace conUnue?" she 
 asked him fiercely. 
 
 His answer was natural enough 
 
 "My d«r lUohd, wh.t can I do ? I „ver <b«n,t 
 tt.t it wM con., out he« , it i. by th. m.r«t fiulce 
 
 "But I wut it to come out," cried lUcheL "if 
 you mea. tl« fact of n,y trij and my «>q„ittal 
 It "■ . ".i.t.1.. ever to hid, .itl,cr fo/a mTmert! 
 Henceforth they shaU be no secret." 
 
 "lien w eannot prevent the world from thinkin» 
 
 though God know, yoa can be h. „o mood for .uch 
 «M comfort! But I have done my b«t; I wiU do 
 ^be.t.»„n. I will «U thi, place to-morrow. We 
 will go right away somewhere else." 
 «And then the ««ne thing will happen there! I. 
 
 h«rag with yo«r own ears every sop „f evidow. 
 
 that they could bring .gainst me?" 
 
 ^» y«. -lything better to suggest your^lf, 
 
 "I have," dw answaed, looking him full a„d 
 
S86 THE SHADOW OF THE HOPE 
 
 sternly in the face, in the now forgotten presence of 
 their three guests. "Fmd out who i* guilty, if you 
 really want people to helieve that I am not ! "* 
 
 Steel did not start, though there came a day when 
 one at least of the listening trio felt honestly persuaded 
 that he had; as a matter of fact, his lips came more 
 closely together, while his eyes searched those of his 
 wife with a wider stare than was often seen in them, 
 but for two or three seconds at most, before dropping 
 in perplezi^ to the floor. 
 
 "How can I, Rachel?" her husband asked quietly, 
 indeed gently, yet with little promise of acquiescence 
 in his tone. " I am not a detective, after all" 
 
 But that was added for the sake of adding some- 
 thing, and was enough to prove Steel ill at ease, to 
 the wife who knew him as no man ever had. 
 
 « A detective, no ! " said she, readily enough. ** But 
 you are a rich man; you could employ detectives; 
 y<m could dear your wife, if you liked." 
 
 "Rachel, you know very well that you are cleared 
 
 already." 
 
 "That is your answer, then!" she cried scornfully, 
 and snatched her eyes from him at last, without 
 waiting for a denial She was done with him, her face 
 ■aid plamly ; he looked at her a moment, then turned 
 aside witii a shrug. 
 
 But Rachel's eyes went swiftly round the room ; they 
 alighted for an instant upon Moma Woodgate, leaning 
 forward upon the sofa where they had sat together. 
 
RACHEL'S CHAMPION 
 
 287 
 
 eager, enthusiastic, but impotent as a woman must be ; 
 they passed over the vicar, looking stolid as usual, and 
 more than a little puzzled ; but at last they rested on 
 Langholm's thm, stooping figure, with untidy head 
 thrust forward towards her, and a Hght in his dreamy 
 eyes that kindled a new light in her own. 
 
 "You, Mr. Langholm ! " cried Rachel, taking a quick, 
 short step in his direction. "You, with your plot* 
 and your problems that nobody can solve; don't you 
 think you could unravel this one for me ? " 
 
 Her eyes were radiant now, and their radiance 
 all for him. Langholm felt the heart swimming in 
 his body, the brain in his head. A couple of long* 
 l^^ged strides to meet her nine-tenths of the way, 
 and he had tak^. Rachel's hand before her husband 
 and her friends. 
 
 "Before God," said Langholm, "FU try ! '^ 
 
 Their hands met only to part There was a sar- 
 donic laugh from Rachel's husband. 
 
 "Do you forbid me?" demanded Langholm, turning 
 upon him. 
 
 "Far from it," said Steel. "I shall be most 
 interrated to see you go to work." 
 
 "Is that a challenge?" 
 
 The two men &ced each other, while the third 
 man and the women looked on. It had sounded like 
 a challenge to all but the vicar, though neither of 
 the others had had time to think so before they 
 heard the word and recognised its justice. 
 
fSS THE SHADOW OF THE B6FE 
 
 «<If you like,"* said Sted, indiffezently. 
 
 **I accept it as such," rejoined Lani^Im, do^ng 
 the other with his eyes. **Aiid find him I will — the 
 guilty man — if I never write another line— and if the 
 villain is still alive I" 
 
CHAPTER XX 
 
 MORE HASTE 
 
 Thebs are eminent men of action \q can acqait 
 themselres with equal credit upon the little field of 
 letters, as some of the very best books of late years go 
 to prove. The man of letters, on the other hand, 
 capable of cutting a respectable figure in action, is, 
 one fears, a much rarer type. Langholm was essen- 
 tially a man of letters. He was at his best among 
 his roses and his books, at his worst in unforeseen 
 collisiwi with the rougher realities of life. But give 
 him time, and he was not the man to run away 
 because his equipment for battle was as short as his 
 confidence m himself; and perhaps such courage as he 
 powessed iras not the less courageous for the crust of 
 cowardice (mostly moral) through which it always had 
 to break. Langholm had one other qualification for 
 the quest to which he had committed himself, but for 
 which he was as thoroughly unsuited by temperament 
 as by the whole tenor of his sobtary life. In addition 
 to an faigenious imagination (a quality with its own 
 defects, as the sequel wiU show), he had that capacity 
 
 288 
 
 liiii 
 
fSO THE SHADOW OF THE ROttE 
 
 for taking pains which has no disadvantageous side, 
 though in Langholm's case, for one, it was certainly 
 not a synonjm for genius. 
 
 It was 8.45 on the Monday afternoon when he 
 alighted at King's Cross, having caught the 9.30 from 
 Northborough after an early adieu to William Allen 
 Richardson and the rest. Langholm made sxxxe of the 
 time before getting into his hansom at the terminus. 
 
 « Drive hard," he said, « to the Capital and Counties 
 Bank in Otford Street." 
 
 And he was there some minutes before the hour. 
 *♦ I want to know my exact balance, if it is not too 
 much trouble to look it up before you dose.'' 
 
 A slip of paper was soon put into Langholm's hand, 
 and at a glance he flushed to the hat with pleasure 
 «»nd surprise, and so regained his cab. « The Cadogan 
 Hotel, in Sloane Street," he cried through the trap; 
 ** and there's no hurry, you can go yoiu: own pace." 
 
 Nor was there any further anxiety in Langholm's 
 heart His balance was a clear hundred more than he 
 had expected to find it, and his whole soul sang the 
 praises of a country life. Unbusinesslike and unme- 
 thodical as he was, in everything but the preparation 
 of MS., such a discovery could never have been made 
 in town, where Langholm's expenditure had marched 
 arm-in-arm with his modest earnings. 
 
 « And it can again," he said recklessly to himself, as 
 he decided on the best hotel in the field of hi? investi- 
 gations, instead of lodgings; "thank God, I have 
 
MORE HASTE 
 
 S81 
 
 enough to run this racket till the end of the year at 
 
 least I If I can't strike the trail by then " 
 
 He lapsed into dear reminiscence and dearer day- 
 dreams, their common scene some two hundred miles 
 north ; but to realise his lapse was to recover from it 
 promptly. lAngholm glanced at himself in the little 
 mirror. His was an honest face, and it was an honest 
 part that he must play, or none at all. He leant over 
 the apron and interested himself in the London life 
 that was so familiar to him stilL It was as though 
 he had not been absent above a day, yet his perceptions 
 were sharpened by his very absence of so many weeks. 
 The wood pavement gave off a strong but not un- 
 pleasant scent in the heavy August heat; it was posi- 
 tively dear to the old Londoner's nostrils. The further 
 he drove upon his south-westerly course, the emptier 
 were the well-known thoroughfares. St James's Street 
 might have been closed to traffic ; the clubs in Pall 
 Mall were mostly shut. On the footways strolled the 
 folk whom one only sees there in August and Sep- 
 tember, the entire families from the country, the less 
 affluent American, guide-book in hand. Here and 
 there was a perennial type, the pale actor with soft 
 hat and blue-black chin, the ragged sloucher from 
 park to park. Langholm could have foregathered 
 with one and all, such was the strange fascination of 
 the town for one who was twice the man among his 
 northern roses. But that is the kind of mistress that 
 London is to tibose who have once felt her spell ; you 
 
«« THE SHADOW OP THE ROPE 
 
 may forget her by the year, but the spell lies lurkhig 
 in the first whiff of the wood pavement, the fiivt flutter 
 of the evening paper on the curb ; and even in the cab 
 you wonder how you have borne existence elsewhere. 
 
 The hotel was very empty, and Langholm found not 
 only the best of rooms at his disposal, but that flatter- 
 ing quality of attention which awaits the first comer 
 when few come at all. He refreshed himself with tea 
 and a bath, and then set out to reconnoitre the scene 
 of the already half-forgotten murder. He had a 
 rague though sanguine notion that his imaginative 
 intuition might at once perceive some possibility which 
 had never dawned upon the academic intelligence of 
 the police. 
 
 Of course he remembered the name of the street, 
 and it was easily found. Nor had Langholm any 
 difficulty in discovering the house, though he had 
 forgotten the number. There were very few houses in 
 the street, and only one of them was empty and to 
 let It was plastered with the biUs of various agents, 
 and Langholm noted down the nearest of these, whose 
 oflSce was in King's Road. He would get an order to 
 view the house, and would explore every inch of it that 
 very night But his bath and his tea had made away 
 with the greater part of an hour ; it was six o'clock 
 before Langholm reached the house-agent's, and the 
 office was already shut 
 
 He dined quietly at his hotel, feeling none the less 
 that be had made a beginning, and spent the evening 
 
MORE HASTE 
 
 looking up Chdaea friends, who were likely to be more 
 conversant than himself with all the drcumstanoes of 
 Mr. Minchin's murder and his wife's arrest ; but whO| 
 as might have been expected, were one and all from 
 home. 
 
 In the morning the order of his plans was somewhat 
 altered. It was essential that he should have those 
 circumstances at his fingers' ends, at least so far as 
 tlMj had transpired in open court. Langholm had 
 read the trial at the time with the inquisitive but 
 impersonal interest which such a case inspires in the 
 average man. Now he must study it in a very difierent 
 spirit, and for the nonce he repaired betimes to the 
 newspaper room at the British Museum. 
 
 By midday he had mastered most details of the 
 complex case, and made a note of every name and 
 address which had found their way into the newspaper 
 reports. But there was one name which did not appear 
 in any account. Langholm sought it in bound volume 
 after bound volume, until even the long-suffering 
 attendants, who trundle the great tomes from thdr 
 shelves on trollitis, looked askance at the wanton reader 
 who filled in a new form every five or ten minutes. 
 But the reader^s face shone with a brighter light at 
 eadi fresh failure. Why had the name he wanted 
 never come up in open court ? Where was the evidence 
 of the man who had made all the mischief between the 
 Minchins? Langholm intended having first the one 
 and then the othra ; already he was on the sprii^ to 
 
t84 THE SHADOW OF THE ROFE 
 
 ft first conddsion. With a caution, howevor, whidi did 
 infinite credit to one of his temperament, tlie amateur 
 detective determined to look a little further before 
 leaping even in his own mind. 
 
 Early in the afternoon he was back in Oielsea, 
 makiri^ fraudulent representations to the house-agent 
 near the Vestry Hall. 
 
 "Not more than ninety,^ repeated that gentleman, 
 as he went through his book, and read out particulars 
 of several houses at about that rental ; but the house 
 which Langholm burned to see over was not among the 
 number. 
 
 **I want a quiet street," said the wily writer, and 
 named the one in which it stood. " Have you nothing 
 there?" 
 
 ** I have one," said the agent witii reserve, «and ifs 
 only seventy." 
 
 "The less the better," cried Langholm, light-heartedly. 
 ** I should like to see that one." 
 
 llie house-agent hesitated, finally looking Langholm 
 in the face. 
 
 " You may as well know first as last," said he, " for 
 we have had enough trouble about that house. It was 
 let last year for ninety ; we're asking seventy because 
 it is the house in which Mr. Minchin was shot dead. 
 StiU want to see it ? " inquired the house-agent, with a 
 wry smile. 
 
 It was all Langholm could do to conceal his eager- 
 n^s, but in the end he escaped with several orders to 
 
MORE HASTE 
 
 t85 
 
 ykm, and the key> of the houae of bouses in his pocket 
 No caretaker could be got to live in it ; the agent 
 seemed half-surprised at Langbolm^s readiness to see 
 over it all alone. 
 
 About an hour later the novelist stood at a door 
 whose street and number were not inscribed upon any 
 of the orders obtained by fraud from the King's Road 
 agent. It was a door that needed painting, and there 
 was a conspicuous card in the ground-floor window. 
 Langholm tugged twice in his impatience at the old- 
 fashioned bell. If his face had been alight before, it 
 was now on fire, for by deliberate steps he had arrived 
 at the very conclusion to which he had been inclined 
 to jump. At last came a slut of the imperishable 
 lodging-house type. 
 " Is your mistress in ? ^ 
 "No.'* 
 
 ** When do you expect her ? " 
 « Not before night" 
 ** Any idea what time of night ?* 
 The untidy child had none, but at length admitted 
 that she had orders to keep the fire in for the land- 
 lady's supper. Langholm drew his own deduction. It 
 would be little use his returning before nine o'clock, 
 five hours to wait ! He made one more cast before 
 he went 
 " Have you been here long, my ghl ? ** 
 " Going on three months." 
 "But your mistress has been here some years?" 
 
«« THE SHADOW OP THE HOPE 
 
 ** Atb you her onl j Mrraat ? * 
 
 And five houn to wait for morel 
 
 Jl Tf "„^«"»*J^ ^ ^sMm M he turned 
 •w*7. Bat at aU event, 'he hovMe h«i not changed 
 
 hand,. The woman he would eventuaUy «« w«, Se 
 woman who had given invaluable evidenoe at the OU 
 Bailej. 
 
CHAPTER XXI 
 
 WOUB tFEKD 
 
 Lavoholm retmned to his hotel and wrote a few liim 
 to Rachel. It had been arranged that he was to repent 
 progress direct to her, and as often as posdbk ; bat it 
 was a Teiy open arrangement, in which Steel had 
 sardonically concurred. Yet, little as there was to say, 
 and for all his practice with the pen, it took Langholm 
 the best part of an hour to write that he beliered he 
 had already obtained a most important due^ which 
 the polke had missed in the most incredible manner, 
 though it had been under their noses all the time. So 
 incredible did it appear, howerer, even to himself, 
 when written down, that Langholm decided not to poet 
 this letter until after his interview with the Chelsea 
 landlady. 
 
 To kill the interval, he went for his dinner to the 
 sbgle dub to which he still belonged. It was a 
 Bohemian satablishment off tiie Strand, and its time- 
 honoured name was the best thing about it in this 
 member's eyes. He was soon cursing himself for 
 eoutlng new the place while engaged upon his great 
 
 117 
 

 ! 
 
 «8 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 and Mcnd quctt Not a ** dobbable** penon himtdA 
 at that epithet wai understood in this its home, Lang- 
 holm was not a little surprised when half-a-docen 
 men (most of whom he barely knew) rose to greet 
 him (m his appearance in tiie smoking-room. But 
 even with their ^^reetingt came the explanation, to 
 fill the new-conic;;- with a horror too sudden for con- 
 cealment 
 
 It appeared that Mrs. Steel's identity with the 
 whilom Mrs. Minchin had not only leaked out in 
 Delverton. Langholm gathered that it was actually in 
 one of that morning's half^ny papers, at which he 
 had not found time to glance in his hot-foot ardour 
 for tiie chase. For the moment he was shocked beyond 
 wends, and not a little disgusted, to discover the cause 
 of his own t^nporary importance. 
 
 **Talk of the devil !^ cried a comparative crony. 
 " I was just telling them that you must be the * well- 
 known novelist' in the case, as your cottage was 
 somewhere down there. Have you really seen any- 
 thing of the lady ?" 
 
 "Seen anything of her?" echoed a journalist to 
 whom Langholm had never spoken in his life. ** Why, 
 cant you see that he bowled her out himself and came 
 up straight to sell the news ? " 
 
 Langholm took his comparative crony by the arm. 
 ** Come in and dine with me,** he said ; " I can't stand 
 this 1 Yes, yes, I know her well," he whispered, as 
 thay went round the screen which was the only 
 
WORSE SPEED 
 
 SSO 
 
 partitioD between pipes and plates; **hii let me see 
 what that scurrilous rag has to say while you order, 
 ni do the rest, and you had better make it a bottle 
 of champagne.^ 
 
 Tlie ** scurrilous rag "^ had less to say than Langholm 
 had been led to expect He breathed again when he 
 had read the sequence of short but pithy paragraphs. 
 Mrs. Minchin^s new name was not given after all, nor 
 that of her adopted district ; while Langholm himself 
 only slunk into print as "a well-known novelist who, 
 oddly enough, was among the guests, and eye-witness 
 of a situation after his own heart.^ The district might 
 have been any one of the many manufacturing centrea 
 in ''the largest of shires,"" which was the one geogra- 
 phical due vouchsafed by the halfpenny paper. Luig- 
 hdm b^pm to regret his readiness to admit the 
 impeachment with which he had been saluted ; it was 
 only in his own club that he would have been pounced 
 upon as the "well-known novelist;" but it was some 
 comfort to reflect that even in his own dub his exact 
 address was not known, for his solidtor paid his ib~ 
 scription and sent periodically for his letters. Charies 
 Langholm had not set up as hermit by halves ; he 
 had his own reasons for being thorough there. And it 
 was m<n« in^iriting than the champagne to fed that 
 no fresh annoyance was likely to befall the Steels 
 through him. 
 
 "It's not so bad as I thought," said Langholm, 
 throwing the newspaper aside as his companion, whose 
 
MO THE SHADOW OF THE ROFE 
 
 {ffo&MioiMl name wm Valentine Venn, finished with 
 tlM wine-card. 
 
 ** Dear boj,** said Venn, **it took a pal to spot yotu 
 Alone I did it ! But I wish you weren^ so dark about 
 that confounded cottage of yours ; the humble mummer 
 would fain gather the crumbs that ML from tlM rich 
 ■cribe^s table, especially when he^s out of a shop, which 
 is the present condition of affairs. Besides, we mi(^ 
 collaborate in a play, and make more money apiece 
 in three weeks than either of us ear&s in a fat year. 
 That littli story of yours ** 
 
 *'Nevar mind my little stories,^ said Langholm, 
 hasUly ; ** Fve just finidied a long (me, and the very 
 thought of Action makes me sick.^ 
 
 ** Well, you've got £scts to turn to ii«r a diaage, 
 •ad for oaon they really do seem as strange as the 
 other thirig. Lu.dcy baigev^ ! Have you had her under 
 the mia-oscope all the scaimer? Ye gods, what a 
 part of Mrs. * 
 
 ** Drink up,* said Langholm, grimly, as the cham- 
 pagne made an opportune appearance ; ** and now tell 
 me who that fellow is who^s openmg the piano, and 
 since when youVe started a musical dinner.^ 
 
 The big room that the screm divided had a grand 
 l^aao in the dining half, for use upon those Saturday 
 •venii^ for which the old dub was still fomous, but 
 rarely touched during the woridng days of the week. 
 Yet even now a dark ai^ cadaverous young man was 
 nddng the tq> (^ the piano> slowly and kboriously, 
 
WOBSE SPEED 
 
 Ml 
 
 as though it were too heavy for him. Valentine Venn 
 looked over his shoulder. 
 
 « Good God ! " sftid he. « Another fact worth most 
 folks' fiction — another coinddenoe you wouldn't dare 
 to use!"* 
 
 "Why— who is it?" 
 
 Venn's answer was to hail the dark, thin youth with 
 rude geniality. The young fellow hesitated, almost 
 shrank, but came shyly forward in the end. Lang- 
 hohn noted that he looked very ill, that his &ce was 
 as sensitive as it was thin and pale, but his expression 
 singularl}' sweet and pleasing. 
 
 '^Seveiino,'* said Venn, with a play-actor's pomp, 
 « let me introduce you to CJharles Langholm, the cele- 
 brated novelist—* whom not to know is to argue your- 
 self unknown."* 
 
 ** Which is the champion wm sequitur of litera- 
 ture," added Langhohn, with literary arrogance, as 
 he took the kd's hand cordially in his own, only to 
 release it hurriedly before he crushed such slender 
 &^gen to their hurt 
 
 "Mr. Langhohn," pursued Venn, ** is the hero of 
 that paragraph"— Langhohn kicked him under the 
 toUe— "that— that paragraph about his kst book, 
 you know. Severino, Langhohn, is the best pianist we 
 have had m the club since I have been a member, and 
 
 you will say the same yourself in another minute. He 
 always playa to us when he drops in to dine, and you may 
 think younelf lucky that he has dropped in to-night" 
 
fm THE SHADOW OF THE BOFB 
 
 *<But where does the ooinddenoe come inf^ kAtA 
 Lughohn, as the young fellow returned to the piano 
 with rather a sad shake of the head. 
 
 ** What ! ** cried Venn, below his breath : " do you 
 mean to say you are a friend of Mrs. Minchin% or 
 whatever her name is now, and that you never heant 
 of Severino ? ^ 
 
 "No,^ replied Langholm, his heart in an instanta- 
 neous flutter. " Who is he ? "* 
 
 ** The man she wanted to nurse the night her husband 
 was murderfd — ^the cause of the final row between 
 them! His name was kept out of the papers, but 
 that^s the man.^ 
 
 Langholm sat back in his chair. To have spent a 
 summer's day in stolid search for traces of this man, 
 only to be introduced to tiie man himself by purest 
 ^anoe in the erening ! It was, indeed, difficult to 
 bdieve; nor was persuasion on the point followed by 
 the proper d^ree of gratitude in Langholm for a 
 tnmsoendent stroke of fortune. In fact, he almost 
 resented his luck ; he would so much rather have stood 
 ir4d<;bted to his skill. And there were other caus^ for 
 disappointment, as in an instant there were things 
 mote incredible to Langholm than the everyday coind- 
 denoe of a chance meeting with the one person whom 
 one desires to meet 
 
 ** So thaVs the man ! ^ he echoed, in a tone that 
 mif^t have told his companion something, cmly the 
 fingots which Langholm had feared to crush had 
 
■{.. 
 
 WORSE SPEED 
 
 248 
 
 
 •Iready Men upon the keys, with the strong, 
 tender, unerring touch of a master, and the impres- 
 sionable player was swaying with enthusiasm on 
 his stooL 
 
 "And can't he play ?^ whispered Valentine Venn, 
 as though it were the man's playing alone that they 
 were discussing. 
 
 Yet even the preoccupied novelist had to listen and 
 nod, and then listen again, before replying. 
 
 "He can,** said Langholm at length. "But why 
 was it that they took such pains to keep his name ort 
 (tf the case?"* 
 
 "Thqr didn't. It would have done no good to 
 drag him in. The poor devil was at death's door at 
 the time of the murder." 
 
 "But is that a fact?" 
 
 Venn opened his eyes. 
 
 "Supposing," continued Langholm, speaking the 
 thing that was not in his mind with the deplorable 
 facility of the professional story-teller— " mipposing 
 that illness had been a sham, and tiiey had really meant 
 to ebpe under cover of it ! " 
 
 "Well, it wasn't" 
 
 " I dare say not. But how do you know ? They 
 ought to have put him in the box and had his 
 evidotce." 
 
 "He was still too ill to be called," rejoined Venn. 
 " But ril Uke you at your word, dear boy, and tell ju 
 exactly how I do know all about his illness. You aee 
 
 ■M 
 
U^ THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 that dark chap with the dgar, who's just come in to 
 listen? That's Severino's doctor; it was he who put 
 him up here ; and Til introduce you to him, if you like, 
 after dinner.'' 
 
 ** Thank you,'* said Langholm, after some little 
 hesitation ; "as a matta of fact, I shovdd like it very 
 much. Venn," he added, leaning right across the little 
 taUe, **I know the woman well! I believe in her 
 absolutely, on every point, and I mean to make her 
 mighbours and mine do the same. That is my object 
 — dont giv« it away ! " 
 
 "Dear boy, these lips are sealed," said Valoitine 
 Venn. 
 
 But a very little conversation with the doctor sufficed 
 to satisfy Langholm's curiosity, and to remove from his 
 mind the wild prepossession which he had allowed to 
 grow upon it with every hour of that wasted day. The 
 doctor was also one of the Bohemian colony in Chelsea, 
 and by no means loth to talk alxnit a tragedy of which 
 he had exceptional knowledge, since he himself had 
 been one of the medical witnesses at each successive 
 stage of the investigations. He had also heard, on the 
 other side of the screen, that Langholm was the novelist 
 refored to in a paragraph which had of course had a 
 special interest for him ; and, as was aoly fair, Langholm 
 WM interrogated in his turn. What was less ikir, and 
 ia^ed ungrateful in a marked degceet was the way in 
 whidi the original questioner parried all questioBS put 
 to himself; and he very somi left the dub, Ob Ui way 
 
WORSE SPEED 
 
 S45 
 
 out, he went into the writing-room, and, tearing faito 
 Kttle pieces a letter which he had written that after- 
 noon, left the fimgments behind him in the waste-paper 
 basket 
 
 His exit from the room was meanwhile producing 
 its sequel in a little incident which would have 
 astonished Langholm considerably. Severino had been 
 playing for nearly an hour on end, had seemed 
 thoroughly engrossed in his own fascinating per- 
 formance, and quite oblivious of the dining and 
 the smoking going on around him accordbg to the 
 accepted ease and freedom of the club. Yet no 
 soonor was Langholm gone than the pianist broke 
 off abruptiy and joined the group which the other 
 had desorted. 
 
 "Who is that fellow ?" said Severino, in English so 
 perfect that the dight Italian accent only added a 
 charm to his gentie voice. **I did not catdi the 
 
 w 
 
 name. 
 
 It was repeated, Tvith such additions as may be fairly 
 made behind a man's back. 
 
 **A dashed good fellow, who writes dashed bad 
 novels," was one of these. 
 
 "You foigetr said another. "He is the * well- 
 known novelist^ who is going the rounds as a nei^- 
 bwtf and friend of Mrs. ** 
 
 Ix)oks from V«in and the doctor cut short the ^eecfa, 
 but not b^ne its import had come home to the young 
 Italian, whon hollow cheeks flushed a dusky biown. 
 
 wmm 
 
«46 THE SHADOW OF THE ROFP 
 
 while his sunken eyes caught fire. In an instant he was 
 on his feet, with no attempt to hide his excitement, 
 and still less to mask the emotion that was its leal 
 name. 
 
 ** He knows her, do you tell me ? He knows Mrs. 
 Minchin " 
 
 *'0r whatever her name is now; yes; so he 
 says." 
 
 " And what is her name ? " 
 
 ** He won't say." 
 
 ** Nor whoe riie lives ? ** 
 
 «No." 
 
 " Then where does he live ? " 
 
 ** None of us know that either ; he's the darkest horse 
 in the dub." 
 
 Venn agreed with this speaker, some little bitterness 
 in his tone. Another stood up for Langholm. 
 
 « We should be as dark," said he, « if we had married 
 Gaiety choristers, and they had left us, and we went in 
 dread of their return ! " 
 
 They sum up the life tragedies pretty pithily, in 
 these dubs. 
 
 ** He was always a silly ass about women," rejoined 
 Langholm's critic, summing up the man. **So it's 
 Mrs. Minchin now ! " 
 
 The name acted like magic upon young Severino. 
 His attention had wandered. In an instant it was 
 more eager than before. 
 
 "If you dont know where he lives in the 
 
WOBSE SPEED 
 
 Msr 
 
 country,* he buret out, « where is he itftjing in 
 town?" 
 
 «* We don't know that either." 
 
 <*Then I mean to find out r 
 
 And the pale musician rushed from the room, in 
 pursuit of the man who had been all day pureuing 
 him. 
 
CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE DAUX8T HOUK 
 
 Thi amateur detective walked dowlj up to Flccadillj, 
 and climbed <<m top of a Chebea omnibiM, a dejected 
 figure even to the casual eye. He was more than 
 disappointed at the upshot of his wild speculations, 
 and ai himself for the false start that he had made. 
 His feeling was one of positive shame. It was so 
 easy now to see the glaring improbability of the 
 conclusion to which he had jumped in his haste, 
 at the first promptings of a too facile fimcy. And 
 what an obvious idea it had been at best! As 
 if his were the only fanm to which it could have 
 occurred! 
 
 Langholm could have lau^bed at his late theory if 
 it had only entailed the loss of one day, but it had 
 also cost him that self-confidence which was tbp on 
 valuable in his case through not being a co. on 
 charatterMic of the man. He now realised the 
 difficulties of his quest, and the absolutely wrong 
 way in which he had set about it His unagination 
 had run away with him. It was no case /ot the 
 
 Ml 
 
THE DARKEST HOUR 
 
 imaginatioii. It wm a case for patient inyertigmtioii, 
 doM rMumning, logical deduction, all arts in which 
 the imaginatiTe man is almost ineviUbly deficient 
 
 Langholm, however, Lad enough lightnesr of 
 temperament to abandon an idea as readily as he 
 formed one, and his late suspicion was already driven 
 to the four winds. He only hoped he had not 
 shown what was in his mind at the dub. Lang- 
 hohn was a just man, and he honestly regretted 
 the injustice that he had done, even in his own 
 heart, and for ever so few hours, to a thoroughly 
 innoomtman. 
 
 And all up Piccadilly this man was sitting witWn 
 a hm inches of him, watching his face with a 
 passionate envy, and plucking up courage to speak; 
 he only did so at Hyde Park Comer, where an 
 intorraning passrager got down. 
 
 Langhohn was sufficiently startled at the sound 
 of his own nune, Inrmking in upon the reflections 
 iudicated, Imt to fiml at his elbow the very face 
 which was in his mind was to lose all pow^ of 
 imaiediato rqdy. 
 
 "My name is Severino," explained the other. "I 
 was introduced to you an hour or two ago at the 
 dub." 
 
 "Ah, lo be sia»r cried lAngholm, recovering. 
 "Odd thing, though, for we must have left about 
 the same \im^ and I tttver taw you till this 
 motDcof 
 
t50 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 Sererino took the vacant place by Laaf^liplm^iide. 
 ** Mr. Langholm,** said he, a tremor in hii soft Toice, 
 ** I have a oonfesnon to make to you. I followed you 
 from the dub ! " 
 
 ** You Mlowed me f"* 
 
 Langholm could not help the double emphasis ; to 
 him it seemed a grotesque turning of the taUes, a too 
 poetically just ending to that misspent day. It was 
 all that he could do to repress a smile. 
 
 ** Yes, I followed you," the young Italian repeated, 
 with his taking accent, in his touching voice; "and 
 I beg your pardon for doing so— though I would do 
 tlM same again — I will tell you why. I thought 
 that you were talking about me while I was strumming 
 to them at the dub. It is possible, of course, that I 
 was quite mistaken ; but when you went out I stopped 
 at once and asked questions. And they told me you 
 were a fHend of— « great friend of mine — of Mrs. 
 Minchinl** 
 
 "It is true oiough," said Langholm, after a pause. 
 "WeU?" 
 
 **She was a very great friend of min^" repeated 
 Severino. " That was alL"* 
 
 And he sighed. 
 
 "So I have heard," said Langholm, with sympathy. 
 <* I can wdl believe it, for I might almost lay the same 
 of her myself." 
 
 The 'bus toiled on beside the pwrik The two long 
 lines of lights rose gently ahead until they almost 
 
 i 
 
THE DARKEST HOUR 
 
 251 
 
 met, and the two men watched them u thej 
 •poke. 
 
 ** Until to-day,'' continued Severino^ **l did not 
 know whether the was dead or alive.** 
 
 ** She is both alive and well.** 
 
 <* And married again ? ** 
 
 ** And married again.** 
 
 There was a Imig pause. The park ended first. 
 
 ** I want you to do me a great favour,** said Severino 
 in Knightsbridge. ** She was so good to me ! I shall 
 never forget it, and yet I have never been able to 
 thank her. I nearly died- It was at that time — and 
 when I remembered, she had disappeared. I b^ and 
 beeeech you, Mr. Langholm, to tell me her nam^ 
 and where she is living now ! ** 
 
 Langholm looked at his companion in the confluence 
 cf lights at the Sloane Street comer. The pale face 
 was a%ht with passion, the sunken eyes ablaze. **l 
 cannot tell you,** he answered shortly. 
 
 "Is it your own name ?** 
 
 "Good God, no!** 
 
 And Langholm laughed harshly. 
 
 "Will you not even tell me where she lives?" 
 
 "I cannot, without her leave ; but if you like I will 
 tell her about you.'* 
 
 There was no answer as they drove on. Then of a 
 suddm Langholm*8 arm was seized and crushed by 
 bony fingers. 
 
 " I am dying,** the low voice whispered hoarsely in 
 
tM THE SHADOW OF THE BOFE 
 
 UsMur. «Cant yountitforyoumlf? Iihidl 
 get better; it might be a year or two, it may be weekf. 
 But I want to eee her again and make mxn. Yei, I 
 lore her t There if no aenae in denying it But it ie 
 all on my side, and I am dying, and she has married 
 again i What harm can it do anybody if I see her 
 oiMe monf^ 
 
 The sunken eyes were filled with tears. There were 
 more tears in the hollow voice. Langholm was deeply 
 touched. 
 
 **My dear fellow,** he said, « I will let her know. 
 No, no, n^t that, of course ! But I will write to her 
 at once— to-night ! Will that not do ? ** 
 
 Severino thanked him, with a heavy sigh. **0h, 
 don*t get down,** he added as Langholm rose. ** I w<m*t 
 talk about her any more.** 
 
 <* I am staying in this street,** explained Langholm, 
 
 "And these are my lodgings,** rejoined the other, 
 pulling a letter from his pocket, and handing the 
 envelope to Langholm. ** Let me hear from you, for 
 pity*s sake, as soon as you hear from her ! ** 
 
 Langholm sauntered on the pavement until the 
 onmibus whidi he had left was no longer distinguish* 
 aUe from the general traffic of the thorougfafiue. The 
 address on the mvelope was that of the lodgii^-house 
 at which he was to have called that night. He was 
 glad now that his luck had not left him to find 
 Sevorino for himsdf ; the sense of fiittuity wcmkl have 
 
THE DARKEST HOUR 
 
 fj8 
 
 UcB •Tca keener Uum it was. In * way he now felt 
 dmwn to the poor, hwak boy who bed so lately ber.i 
 the object of his unjust smd unfounded suspicimis. 
 There was « new light in which to think of him, a 
 new bond between them, a new spring of sympathy or 
 jeakwsy, if not of both. But I^ngholm was not in 
 I^mdon to show sympathy or friendship for any nuuk 
 He was in London simply and solely upon hia own 
 great quest, in which no lau must interrupt him. 
 That was why he had been s. giwided ibont his 
 whereabouts — though not guurdec eDoi'.^a— and why 
 he watdied the omnibus out of s^gVy before entering 
 his hotd. The old Londoner had t'ir)E;:o'^ten how lew 
 places there are at which one can ulay iu Sioaite Street 
 
 A bad twoity-four hours was in store fw him. 
 
 They began well enough with the unexpected dlt- 
 corery that an eminent authority on crime and criminals, 
 who had hem a good friend to Langholm in his London 
 days, was still in town. The novelist went rouud to 
 his house that night, chiefly because it was not ten 
 minutes' walk from the Cadogan Hotel, and with little 
 hope of finding anybody at home. Yet there was his 
 friend, with the midnight lamp just lighted, and so 
 kind a welcome that Langholm confided in him on the 
 spot And the man who knew all the detectives in 
 London did not laugh at the latest recruit to their 
 ranks ; but imile he did. 
 
 «ni tell you whal I might do," he said at length. 
 *" I mig^t give you a card that shouki get you into the 
 
 ill 
 
 ' 'la 
 
fM THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 Black MiBwuin at New Scotland Yard, whercHihey would 
 ■how you any relics they may have kept of the Minchin 
 murder; only don^t say why you want to see them. 
 Eveiy man you see there will he a detective ; you may 
 come across the reiy fellows who got up the case ; if 
 so, they may tell you what they think of it, and ydu 
 should be able to find out whether they're trying again. 
 Here you are, Langholm, and I wish you luck. Doing 
 anything to-morrow night ?** 
 
 Langholm could safely say that he was not. 
 
 ** llien dine with me at the Rag at seven, and tell 
 me how yoVi get on. It must be seven, because Fm 
 off to Scotland by the night mail. And I don't want 
 to be discouraging, my dear fellow, but it is only 
 honest to say that I think more of your chivalry than 
 of your diances of success ! ^ 
 
 At the Black Museum tiiey had all the trophies 
 which had been produced in court ; but the officer who 
 acted as showman to Langholm admitted that they had 
 no right to retain any of them. They were Mrs. 
 Mindiin's property, and if they knew where she was 
 they would of course restore everything. 
 
 **But the papers say she isn't Mrs. Minchin any 
 longer," the officer added. " Well, well ! There's no 
 accounting for taste.'^ 
 
 ** But Mrs. Minchin was acquitted," remarked Lang- 
 holm, in tone as impersonal as he could make it. 
 
 " Ye-es," drawled his guide, dryly. "Well, it's not 
 for us to say anything about that." 
 
 iS 
 
 ilBidB 
 
THE DARKEST HOUR 
 
 255 
 
 ** Bat you think all the more, I suppose ? 
 
 "There's only one opinion about it in the Yard." 
 
 ** But surely you haven't given up trying to find out 
 who really did murder Mr. Minchin ?" 
 
 " We think we did find out, sir," was the reply to 
 that 
 
 So they had given it up ! For a single second the 
 thought was stimulating : if the humble author could 
 succeed where the police had failed ! But the odds 
 against such success were probably a million to one, 
 and L&ngholm sighed as he handled the weapon with 
 which the crime had been committed, in the opinion of 
 the police. 
 
 "What makes you so certain that this was the 
 revolver?" he inquired, more to sat'sfy his conscience 
 by leaving no question unasked than to voice any 
 doubt upon the point. 
 
 The other smiled as he explained the peculiarity 
 of the pistol ; it had been made in Melbourne, and it 
 caiTied the bullet of peculiar size which had been 
 extracted from Alexander Minchin's body. 
 
 "But London is full of old Australians," objected 
 Lanf^holm, for objection's sake. 
 
 "Well, sir," laughed the officer, "you find one who 
 carries a revolver like this, and prove that he was in 
 Chelsea on the night of the murder, with a motive 
 for committing it, and we shall be glad of his name 
 and address. Only don't forget the motive ; it wasn't 
 robbery, you know, though her ladyship was so 
 
IW 
 
 t86 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 Hire it wm uM ie n ! Tliere^i tlM inaka>''B name aa 
 the band. I ihoukl take a note of it> sb^ il I was 
 jou!** 
 
 That BMM and that note woe all that Langholm 
 had to show wImu he dined with the aiminolc^t 
 at his servioe club the same evening. The amateur 
 detective looked a beaten man already, but he talked 
 through his teeth of inspecting the revolvers in wery 
 pawnbroker's ^op in London. 
 
 **It will take you a year,"* said the old soldier, 
 dieerfully. 
 
 **It sfems the only diaiioe," replied the de- 
 spondent novelist. "It is a case of doing that or 
 nothing.* 
 
 "Then take the advice of an dlcUsr fogey than your- 
 aelf, and do nothing ! You are quite ri^t to bdieve 
 in the lady'^s innocence ; thiR« is no eieiise for «iter- 
 tainix^ any other bdief, still less for cxjMessing it. 
 But whni yoa come to putting sidt cm tiie real culprit, 
 another mattor. My dear felbw, it^s not the 
 
 of thing that you or I could hope to do tm our 
 eir% even were Ite caae far ampler than it is. It 
 was very spertii^; of you to o£fer for a moment to 
 try yei^ hand ; but if I weie you I should confess 
 without delay that tlw task is fax beyond you, for 
 that's the honest truth.'' 
 
 Langholm walked back to his hotel, revolving this 
 advice. Its soundnea was undeniable, while the 
 imroe Stma whidi it came gave it exceptional weight 
 
THE DARKEST HOUR tSt 
 
 and Talue. It was an expert opinka uttch no nuH 
 in his senses could afford to ignon, mi. Langfaoln 
 fdt that Mrs. Sted al»o ought at leMfc te hear it 
 before building on his efforts. The letiBr wouU 
 prepare her for his ultimate fiulure, as it ii«s o^y 
 fair that she should be prepared, and yet would left<ve 
 him fiwe to strain every cerve in any freA dsbectiflD 
 in which a chance ray lit die path. But it would 
 be a difficult letter to write, and Langhcdm was still 
 bftttling with the first sentence whra he rtacbed the 
 Cadogan. 
 
 "A gentleman to me me?" he cried in surprise. 
 "What gentleman?" 
 
 " Wouldn't leave his name, sir ; said he'd call again ; 
 a foreign gentleman, he seemed to me." 
 
 *' A delicata-looking man ?" 
 
 "Very, dr. You seem to know him better than 
 ha knows you," added the hall-portar, with whom 
 Langholm had made friends. "He wasn't certain 
 '•'fc^thw it was the Mr. Langholm he wanted who 
 was sUying here, and he asked to look at the 
 fefpi/ber.^ 
 
 «0id you let him see it?" cried Langholm- 
 quickly. 
 
 "I did, sir.* 
 
 " Then let me have another look at it, jAeeae ! " 
 It was as Langholm feared. Thoughtlessly, but 
 natnraJly «iough, when requested to put his own 
 name in the book, he had abo filled in that full 
 
MB THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 address wliich he took such pains to conceal In plAoes 
 where he was better known. And that miserable 
 young Italian, that fellow Severino, had discoyered 
 not only where he was staying in town, but where he 
 lived in the country, and his next discovery would be 
 Nonnanthorpe House and its new mistress! Lang- 
 holm felt oiraged ; after his own promise to write to 
 Badiel, a promise already fulfilled, the unhappy 
 ymith might have had the decency to refrain from 
 underhand tricks like this. Langholm felt inclined 
 to take a , cab at once to Severino's lodgings, there 
 to relieve his mind by a very plain expression of 
 his opinion. But it was late ; and perhaps allowuices 
 Aould be made for a sick man with a passion as 
 liapeless as his bodily state; in any case he would 
 tAemp upon it first 
 
 But there was no sleep for Charles Langholm that 
 night, nor did the thought of Severino enter his head 
 agimi ; it was siddenly swept aside and as suddenly 
 replaced by that of the man win was to fill the 
 novelist's mind for many a day. 
 
 Idly glancing up and down the autc^raphed pages 
 of tiie hotel register, as his fingers half-mechanically 
 turned leaf after leaf backward, Langholm's eye had 
 suddenly caught a name of late as familiar to him 
 •s his own. 
 
 It WM tibe name of John Buchanan Steel. 
 
 And yw date was the date of the Minchin murder. 
 
CHAPTER XXra 
 
 SAWN 
 
 The haD-porter was only too ready for furtlier chat 
 It was the dull season, and this visitor was one of 
 a variety always popular in the quieter hotels; he 
 was never above a pleasant word with the servants. 
 Yet the porter stared at Langholm as he approached. 
 His face was flushed, and his eyes so bright that 
 there would have been but one diagnosis by the 
 average observer. But the porter knew that Lu^ 
 hohn had come in sober and that for the last 
 twenty minutes he had sat absorbed in the hotel 
 i^^pster. 
 
 "I see," said Langholm— and even his voice was 
 
 altered, which made the other stare the harder- 
 
 "I see that a friend of mine stayed here just apoo 
 
 a year ago. I wonder if you remember him ? *' 
 
 "If it was the ofF-season, sir, I dare m* ¥ 
 shall.'' — « wy « 
 
 " It was in September, and his name was 
 
 Steel" 
 
260 THE SHADOW OP THE ROPE 
 
 «• How bng did he stay ?" ^ ^ 
 
 «Only one night, I gather— an elderly gaitlemao 
 with very white hair." 
 
 The porter's face lighted up. 
 
 « I remember him, sir ! I should think I did ! A 
 very rich gentleman, I should say ; yes, he only stayed 
 the one night, but he gave me a sovereign when he 
 wait away next day." 
 
 "He is very rich," said Langholm, repressmg by 
 main force a desire to ask a string of questions. 
 He fimcied that the porter was not one who needed 
 questioning, and his patience had its immediate 
 
 reward. 
 
 "I remember when he arrived," the man went on. 
 "It was late at night, and he hadn't ordered his room. 
 He came in first to see whether we could give him 
 one. I paid the cab myself and brought in his 
 
 "He had just arrived from the country, I pre- 
 sume?" 
 
 The porter nodded. 
 
 « At King's Cross, by the 10.46, I believe ; but it 
 must have been a good bit late, for I was just coming 
 off duty, and the night-porter was just coming 
 
 on." 
 
 " Then you didn't see any more of Mr. Steel that 
 
 night?" 
 
 "I saw him go out agaa," said \he portff, 
 dryly, « after he'd had something to eat, for we are 
 
 MHi 
 
 ■liiiaiHIIMI 
 
DAWN 
 
 tei 
 
 short-handed in the off-season, and I stopped up myself 
 to see he got it. I didn^t see him come in the second 
 time.** 
 
 Langholm could hardly believe his ears. To cover 
 his excitement he burst out laughing. 
 
 "The old dog!'' he cried. "Do you know if he 
 ever came in at all ? '^ 
 
 *♦ Between two and three, I believe," said the porter 
 in the same tone. 
 
 Langholm laughed again, but asked no more 
 questions, and in a little he was pacing his bedroom 
 floor, with fevered face and tremulous stride, as he 
 was to continue pacing it for the greater part of that 
 August night. 
 
 Yet it was not a night spent in thought, but rather 
 in inteicepting and in casting out the kind of thoughts 
 that chased each other through the novelist's brain. 
 His imagination had him by the forelock once more, 
 but this time he was resisting with all his might It 
 meant resistance to the strongest attribute that he 
 possessed. The man's mind was now a picture-gallery 
 and now a stage. He thought in pictures and he saw 
 in scenes. It w» no fault of Langholm's, any more 
 than it was a merit. Imagination was the pre- 
 dominant force of his intellect, as in others is the 
 power of reasoning, or the gift of languages, or 
 the mastery of figures. Langholm could no more help 
 it than he could change the colour of his eyes, but 
 lo-ni^t he did his best He had mistaken invention 
 
i8l THE SHADOW OF THE ROFB 
 
 for diacovoy onn aliMdy. He was grimly d«t«ciBiiM^ 
 not to let it hi^PP^ twice. 
 
 To suspect Steel because he chanced to haft bem 
 in the neighbourhood of Chelsea on the nif^t of the 
 murder, and absent from his hotel about the hour U 
 its committol, was not less absurd than his first sus- 
 picion of f'ae man who could be proved to have been 
 lying between life and death at the time. There had 
 been so^nething to connect the dead man with Severino. 
 There was nothing within Langholm's knowledge to 
 connect him with Steel Yet Steel ww the most 
 mysterious peh<m that he had ever met with outside 
 the pages of his own novels. No one knew where he 
 had made his money. He might weU have made it in 
 Australia; they m%ht have known eadi otiier out 
 ^heie. Lan^lm suddenly remembered l^e Australian 
 Itagman whom he had seen "knocking down his 
 cheque ** at a wayside inn within a few miles of Nor- 
 manthorpe, and Steel's gratuitously explicit statement 
 that neither he nor his wife had ever been in Australia 
 in their lives. There was one lie at least, then why 
 not two ? Yet, the proven lie mi^t have been told 
 by Steel simply to anticipate and allay aiy possible 
 suspicion of hia wife's identity. That was at kast 
 conceivable And this time Lang^lm sought the 
 conceivable explanation more sedulouslj tiian the 
 suspicious circumstance. 
 
 He had been far too precipitete in all that he had 
 done hitherto, from the Uomiay mwriang up to this 
 
 ■^fpwir 
 
 mmmammmt^ 
 
 mm. 
 
DAWN 
 
 MM 
 
 JHTedaesdAy night HIb departure on the Monday had 
 been hi ittelf premature. He had come away without 
 ieeing the Steels again, whereas he should have had 
 in exhaustive interview with one or both of them 
 belbra embarking upon his task. But Steel's luQf- 
 hoetik and half-scornful attitude was more than Lang- 
 holm could trust his temper to endure, and he had 
 despaired of seeing Mrs. Steel alone. There were 
 innuiiEierable points upon which she could have supplied 
 him with valuable information. He had hoped to 
 obtain what he wanted from the fuller reports of the 
 trial ; b«^ that investigation had been conducted upon 
 the supporition that his wife, and no other, had caused 
 the de«^ of Alexander Minchin. No business friend 
 of the deceased had been included among the witnesses, 
 and the vary least had been made of his financial 
 difficulties, which had formed no part of the case for 
 the Crown. 
 
 Langholm, however, his wits immensely quickened 
 by the tonic of his new ^Kscovery, b^^ to see 
 possibilities in this aspect of the matter, emd, as soos 
 as the telegraph offices were open, he despatched a 
 ratlusr long message to Mrs. Steel, reply pcud. It was 
 •imply to request the business address of her late 
 husba^idf with the name and address of any partner or 
 other business man who had seen much of him in the 
 City. If the telegram were n<^ intercept^, Langbolm 
 calculated that he should have his reply in a couple of 
 hours, and one came early in Uie f<»eno(m : — 
 
tM THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 •*Shu«d ofliM fl Adam** Court Old Biotd Strwt 
 with a Mr. Croftf his friend bot not mint Rashd 
 SteeL** 
 
 Lan^lm looked first at the end, and wai thankful 
 to lee Uiat the replj was from Rachel herself. But the 
 penultimate clause introduced a complication. It must 
 hare some meaning. It would scaroelj be a merely 
 irrelevant expression of didike. Lang^ohn, at all events, 
 lead a warning in the words--a warning to himself not 
 to call <m Mr. Crofts as a firioid of the dead man*s wife. 
 And thu increased the complication, ultimatelj sug* 
 gesting a bolder step than the man of letters quite 
 relished, yet one whkh he took without hesitation in 
 Radiel^s cause. He had in his pocket the card of the 
 detective officer who had shown him over the Black 
 Museum ; luckily it was still quite dean ; and Langholm 
 only wished he looked the part a little more as he 
 finally sallied forth. 
 
 Mr. Crofts was in, his small derk said, and the sham 
 detective followed the real one's card into the inner 
 diamber of the poky offices upon the third floor. Mr. 
 Crofts sat aghast in his office chair, the puzded picture 
 of a man who feels his hour has come, but who wonders 
 which of his many delinquendes has come to light. 
 He was large and florid, with a bald head and a dyed 
 moustache, but his colouring was an unwholesome 
 purple as the false pretender was ushered in. 
 
 " I am sorry to intrude upon you, Mr. Crofts," b^an 
 
 »■■ 
 
DAWN 
 
 «65 
 
 lADgholm, "but I have come to make a few inqoiriei 
 abottt the late Alexander Minchin, who, I believe, 
 
 "Quite right! Quite right!" cried Croft., ai the 
 purple turned a normal red in his sanguine countenance. 
 " Alexander Minchin— poor fellow— to be sure ! Take 
 a seat, inspector, take a seat Happy to aflbid you 
 any information in my power." 
 
 If Mr. Crofts looked relieved, however, as many a 
 decent dtixen roij^t under a similar visitation, it was 
 a very real relief to Langholm not to have been found 
 out at a fiance. He took the proffeed seat with the 
 greater readiness on noting how near it was to the 
 door. 
 
 "The death of Mr. Minchin is, as you know, still a 
 mystery " 
 
 *• I didn't know it," btemipted Crofts, who had quite 
 recovered his spirits. "I thought the only mystery 
 ^n» how twelve sane men could have acquitted hb 
 wife." 
 
 "That," said Langholm, "was the opinion of many 
 at the time; but it is one which we are obliged to 
 disregard, whether we agree with it or not The case 
 still oigages our attention, and must do so until we 
 have explored every possible channel of investigation. 
 What I want from you, Mr. Crofts, is any information 
 that you can give me concerning Mr. Minchin's finandai 
 position at the time of his death." 
 
 " It was bad," said Mr. Crofts, promptly ; "about as 
 
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 (ANSI and ISO TEST CHART No. 2) 
 
 A /APPLIED I^V1GE 
 
 165 J Eoit Main Street 
 
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aee the shadow of the rope 
 
 bad as it could be. He had one lucky flutter, and it 
 would have been the ruin of him if he had lived. He 
 backed his lack for more than it was worth, and his 
 luck deserted him on the spot. Yes, poor old devil ! " 
 sighed the sympathetic Crofts: "he thought he was 
 going to make his pile out of hand, but in another 
 week he would have been a bankrupt." 
 "Had you known him long, Mr. Crofts?" 
 "Not six months; it was down at Brighton we met, 
 quite by chance, and got on talking about Westralians. 
 It was I put him on to his one good spec. His wife 
 was with him at the time—couldn't sUnd the woman ! 
 She was much too good for me and my missus, to say 
 nothing of her own husband. I remember one night 
 on the pier " 
 
 "I won't trouble you about Brighton, Mr. Crofts," 
 Langholm interrupted as politely as he could. "Mr. 
 Minchm was not afterwards a partner of yours, wa^ 
 he?" 
 
 "Never; though I won't say he mightn't have been 
 if things had panned out differently, and he had gone 
 back to Westralia with some capital. MeauwhUe he 
 had the run of my office, and that was all." 
 " And not even the benefit of your advice ? " 
 "He wouldn't take it, once he was bitten with the 
 game." 
 
 Thus far Langholm had simply satisfied his own 
 curiosity upon one or two points concerning a dead man 
 who had been Uttle more than a name to him hitherto. 
 
 m^' 
 
DAWN 
 
 «67 
 
 His one discovery of the least potential value was that 
 Minchin had evidently died in difficulties. He now 
 consulted some notes jotted down on an envelope upon 
 his way to the City. 
 
 « Mr. Minchin, as you are aware," res.imed Langholm, 
 «'was, like his wife, an Australian by birth. Had he 
 many Australian friends here in London P'' 
 
 "None at all,'' replied Mr. Crofts, "that I am 
 aware of.** 
 
 « Nor anywhere else in the country, think you ? " 
 
 "Not that I remember.*' 
 
 « Not in the north of England, for example ?" 
 
 Thus led, Mr. Crofts frowned at his desk until an 
 enlightened look broke over his florid face. 
 
 « By Jove, yes ! " said he. « Now you speak of it, 
 there um somebody up north-a rich man, too-but 
 he only heard of him by chance a day or so before his 
 death." 
 
 ** A rich man, you say ; and an Australian ? " 
 
 « I don't know about that, but it was* out there they 
 had known each other, and Minchin had no idea he 
 was in England tiU he ^w it in the paper a day or 
 two before his death." 
 
 " Do you remember the name ?" 
 
 "No, I don't, for he never told it to me; fact is, 
 we were not on the best of terms just at the last," 
 explained Mr. Crofts. "Money matters-money matters 
 -they divide the best of friends~and to tell you the 
 truth he owed me more tban I could aflbrd to lose. 
 
«e8 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 But the day before the liwt day of his iife he c&me in 
 and said it was all right, he'd square up before the 
 week was out, and if that wasn't good enough for me 
 I could go to the devil. Of course I asked him where 
 the money was coming from, and he said from a man 
 he'd not heard of for years until that morning, but 
 he didn't say how he'd heard of him then, only that 
 he must be a millionaire. So then I asked why a man 
 he hadn't seen for so long z)xo\i\d pay his debts, but 
 Minchin only laughed and swore and said he'd make 
 him. And th|it was the last I ever heard of it; he 
 sat down at that desk over yonder and wrote to his 
 millionaire there and then, and took it out himself to 
 post. It was the kst time I saw him alive, for he 
 said he wasn't coming back till he got his answer, 
 and it was the last letter he ever wrote in the 
 place." 
 
 "On that desk, eh?" Langholm glanced at the 
 spare piece of office furniture in the comer. *♦ Didn't 
 he keep a y papers here ? " he added. 
 
 " He did, but you fellows impounded them." 
 
 « Of course we did," said Langholm, hastily. « Then 
 you have nothing of his left?" 
 
 "Only his pen, and a diary in which he hadn'i 
 written a word. I slipped them into a drawer with his 
 papers, and there they are still." 
 
 Langholm felt disappointed. He had learnt so 
 much, it was tantalising not to learn a little more. 
 If only he could make sure of that millionaire friend 
 
DAWN 
 
 se9 
 
 of Minchin! In his own mind he was «U but sure, 
 but his own mind was too elastic by half 
 
 Crofts was drumming on the blotting-pad in front of 
 him; all of a sudden Langholm noticed that it had a 
 diary attached. 
 
 "Minchin's diary wasn't one like yours, was it?- he 
 exclaimed. 
 
 "ITie same thing," said Mr. Crofts. 
 
 " Then I should like to see it." 
 
 "There's not a word written in it ; one of you chaps 
 overhauled it at the time." 
 
 " Never mind ! ^ 
 
 " WeU, then, it's in the top long drawer of the desk 
 he used to use-if my clerk has not appropriated it to 
 nis own use." 
 
 Langholm held his breath as he went to the drawer 
 m question. In another instant his breath escaped him 
 m a sigh of thankfukess. The "Universal Diary" 
 (for the year before) was there, sure enough. And it 
 was attached to a pink blotter precisely similar to 
 that upon which Mr. Crofts still drummed with idle 
 fingers. 
 
 "Anything more I can show you?" inquired that 
 worthy, humorously. 
 
 I^ngholm was gazing intently, not at the diaiy, but 
 at the pink blotting-paper. Suddenly he looked up 
 
 "You say tiiat was the last letter he ever wrote in 
 your office ? " . 
 
 "The very last* 
 
^1 
 
 170 THE SHADOW OP THE ROPE 
 
 "Then— yes— you can show me a looking-glass if 
 you have one ! " 
 
 Crofts had a small one on his chimney-piece. 
 
 « By the Lord Harry," said he, handing it, " but you 
 tip-top tecs are a leery lot ! ** 
 
CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 ONK WHO WAS NOT BIDDEN 
 
 Langholm went north next morning by the ten 
 o'clock express from King's Cross. He had been but 
 four nights in town, and not four days, yet to Lang- 
 holm they might have been weeks, for he had never 
 felt so much and slept so little in all his life He 
 had also done a good deal; but it is the moments 
 of keen sensation that make up the really crowded 
 hours, and Langholm was to run the gamut of his 
 emotions before this memorable week was out. In 
 psychological experience it was to be, for him a 
 htUe lifetime in itself; indeed, the week seemed that 
 already, whUe it was still young, and comparatively 
 poor in incident and surprise. 
 
 He had bought magazines and the literary papers 
 for his journey, but he could concentrate his mind 
 on nothing, and only the exigencies of railway 
 travelling kept him ofF his legs. Luckily for Lang- 
 holm, however, sleep came to him when least expected, 
 m his cool comer of the corridor train, and he only 
 awoke in time for luncheon before the change at 
 
 271 
 
7ii;'i^i 
 
 ii 
 
 «7« THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 York. His tired brain was vastly refreshed, but to far 
 he could not concentrate it, even on the events of 
 these eventful days. He was still in the thick of them. 
 A sense of proportion was as yet impossible, and a con- 
 secutive review the most difficult of intellectual feats. 
 Langholm was too excited, and the situation too 
 identical with suspense, for a clear sight of all its 
 bearings and potentialities ; and then there was the 
 stem self-discipline, the determined bridling of the 
 imagination, in which he had not yet relaxed. Once 
 in the night, however, in the hopeless hours between 
 darkness and broad day, he had seen clearly for a 
 while, and there and then pinned his vision down to 
 paper. 
 
 It concerned only one aspect of the case, but this 
 was how Langholm found that he had stated it, on 
 taking out his pocket-book during the final stages of 
 his journey — 
 
 PROVISIONAL CASE AGAINST 
 
 1. Wcu m Sloane Stieet on the night of the murder, 
 
 at an hotel about a mile from the house in 
 which the murder was committed. This can he 
 proved. 
 
 2. Left hotel shortly q/ier arrival towards mid- 
 
 nighif believed to have returned between two 
 and tkreey and would thus have been absent 
 at very time at which crime was wnmUted 
 
ONE WHO WAS NOT BIDDEN 873 
 
 •"""'■V «o rn^at evidmce adduced at Mai 
 
 tj.Z! ""^ '^ "^-^ *<*' - 
 
 «• Kn^ M. m Au^ralia. but u^ i„ England un. 
 
 «*« ^- ■^"'e ktta- on r«»p< j^ ^4^4 . 
 
 — - cam up to torn, (arriving war Kme 
 If murder a. oW HaUd, aioui I, „"Z 
 
 "»"«-.> ^l"hUmoraUycerU,;nandp;JZu 
 cvaUe^kgalpro^r. "» proiaUff 
 
 *««W W «».,, „^ ^ j^y ^^ •/ 
 
 ««w e^ *«• cAoracto- or antecedmU. 
 POSSIBU; MOTIVES 
 
 Z. "] " " '"""^ «*»<»», AirBort life a 
 
 grea^oae^ He elaior^U, preZde ,^J^; 
 IT that paH mu .pen, i„ Auetralia. 
 
 aim — .pay up ! 
 mackmail not i„co„,i^M with We character. 
 
 h'''^ 
 
«74 THE SHADOW C 
 
 ROPE 
 
 Men have died at ihey deurvea before to-day for 
 threateninff blackmail. 
 
 u<-\ 
 
 Possible Motive for Marriage 
 Atonement qf the Guilty to the Innocent. 
 
 As Langholm read and re-read these precise pro- 
 nouncements, with sometLing of the detachment and 
 the mild surprise with which he occasionally dipped 
 into his own earlier volumes, he congratulated hitr- 
 self upon the evidentlv lucid interval which had pro- 
 duced so much order from the chaos that h>id been 
 his mind. Chaotic as its condition still was, that 
 orderly array of impression, discovery, and surmise, 
 bore the test of conscientious reconsideration. Anil 
 there was nothing that Langholm felt moved to 
 strike out in the train ; but, o . the other hand, 
 he saw the weakness of his case as it stood at 
 present, and was helped to see it by the detective 
 officer's remark to him at Sviotland Ytrd : " You 
 find one (old Australian) who carries t. revolver 
 like this, and prove that he was in CTiels>>a on the 
 night of the murder, with a motive for committing it, 
 and we shall be glad of his name and address." Lang- 
 holm had found the old Australian who could be 
 proved to have been in Chelsea, or thereabouts, on 
 the night in question ; but the pistol he could not hope 
 to find, and the motivp was mere surmise. 
 
Om WHO -..AS NOT BIUIEN m 
 
 There wm n-^u i» . "" precision, 
 
 tut I .„ „„:." ^^2™ ™' P«"P'e to believe 
 
 Langholm remembered the v u« j 
 Steel had looked at w? ^.^f^'^y'^ ''^J in which 
 
 H" l'P« had indeed ,h„t very ti,h b"/ ""• ' 
 
 '»« « between bi-r„U .^ «, , ' '"" '^'^ "P»» «>« 
 
 «>' «-.! P««biU i«:"iL^L: " *"' "■'■" '" 
 
 « roucnmg the woman ia the caae. 
 
 
 
irre the shadow of the rope 
 
 So Langholm came back from sultry London to a 
 world of smoke and rain, with furnaces flaring through 
 the blurred windows, and the soot laid with the dust 
 in one of the grimiest towns in the island ; but he soon 
 shook both from his feet, and doubled back upon the 
 local line to a rural station within a mile and a half of 
 his cottage. This distance he walked by muddy ways, 
 through the peculiarly humid atmosphere created by a 
 sky that has rained itself out and an earth that can 
 hold no moi**, and came finally to his dripping garden 
 by the wicket at the back of the cottage. There he 
 stood to inhale the fine earthy fragrance which atoned 
 somewhat for a rather desolate scene. The roses were 
 all washed away. William Allen Richanlson clung 
 here and there, in the shelter of the southern eaves, 
 but he was far past his prime, and had better have 
 perished with ^he exposed beauties on the tiny trees. 
 The soakmg fc .age had a bluish tinge ; the glimpse of 
 wooded upland, across the valley through the gap in the 
 hedge of Penzance briars, lay colourless and indistinct 
 as a faded print from an imperfect negative. A footstep 
 crunched the wet gravel at Ijangholm''s back. 
 
 " Thank God you've got back, sir ! " cried a York- 
 shire voice in devout accents ; and Langholm, turning, 
 met the troubled face and tired eyes of the woman 
 next door, who kept house for him while living iu 
 her own. 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Brunton,'' he exclaimed, " what on 
 earth has happened P You didn't expect me earlier, 
 
C:)E WHO WAS NOT BIDDEN ST7 
 
 TjZ' ' "•"^^ ■""■ ■»' '"<" «"' "•'"« «"'. 
 
 .o::'';o:ii^."-'- "'• "•-"•• ".. poo, 
 
 And her in on went to her eye.. 
 
 .'.' r"'. f ""* K™"""-"". M«. Brunton , ^ 
 H.m at jrou «, i- L„„d„„ „. 
 
 ^- ch«,ge of »ir! He wa.n-t fit to travel ZfZ 
 
 "VVhAfV k;- ,, ^"' "^'^e over it. 
 
 What 8 his name, Mw. Brunton P" 
 
 .o::rrtrj-,«.tre''t<::i:rrr 
 
 too W to „.wer ,„ert,o Idt And th' 
 knew you'd soon be hero to t ol" '" 
 
 " A foreigner, I suppose ? " 
 
 "I should «iy he was, sir." 
 
 J:^oXrj::i.''-rrtt^'*°^'"^^ 
 
 I was busT ironC l ^ "' """ """o J«terda» 
 
 to send" et tro^h "'"■'"' "^ "^ ^'"' "-^ 
 holidays, com« to ' ° '«^" ^"-^ "' ™■"'°^■■ 
 
 went. a^dT "" "^'' ' ^'"''» ""-ted.- So I 
 
 ?• "«d , bag with him, and he'd walked all the 
 
 fi- 
 
 rs 
 
 I r 
 
 iit« 
 
«78 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 way from Upthorpe station, same as I suppose you 
 have now; but yesterday was the hottest day weVe 
 had, and I never did see living face so like the dead. 
 He had hardly life enough to ask if this was where you 
 lived ; and when I said it was, but you were away, he 
 nodded and said he^d just seen you in London ; and he 
 was sure he might come in and rest a bit Well, sir, I 
 not only let him do that, but you never will lock up 
 anything, so I gave him a good sup o' your whisky 
 too!" 
 
 « Quite right," said Langholm—" and then ? " 
 
 " It seemed to pull him together a bit, and he began 
 to talk. He wanted to know about all the grand folks 
 round about, where they lived and how long they'd 
 lived there. At last he made mc tell him the way to 
 Normanthorpe House, after asking any amount of 
 questions about Mr. and Mrs. Steel; it was hard 
 work not to tell him what had just come out, but I 
 remembered what you said before you went away, sir, 
 and I left that to others." 
 
 **Good!" said Langhobn. "But did he go to 
 Normanthorpe ? " 
 
 "He started, though I begged him to sit still while 
 we tried to get him a trap from the village ; and his 
 self-will nearly cost him his life, if it doesn^ yet He 
 was hardly out of sight when we see him come stag- 
 gering back with his handkerchief up to his mouth, 
 and the blood dripping through his fingers into the 
 road." 
 
ONE WHO WAS NOT BIDDEN «79 
 ** A hemorrhage ! ^ 
 ''A"' "■■' ■''"' ""• *■" ""7 "ord the doctor used 
 
 "He U « ftieud of mine,- interrupted langholm 
 ^ we n,u.t do^ we «n for hin,. 'l wiU help , ^ 
 M™. Brunton^ You .haU h.™ jour deep to-night 
 Did you put him into my room » " * 
 
 .triii!'^ *■'/"'" "^ """'* "^^^ » "« popped W». 
 ^ght mto our own; „d now he h« e,^ything 
 
 meemd dew, and comfortables I could make it 5 
 
 holm, from h» heart; "it WiU be Hi, will and nft 
 your Mt if we fail. Ye,, I d.ould like to^ Z 
 poor feUow, if I may." « «> »ee the 
 
 "He ia expecting you, sir. He told Dr. Sedley he 
 m™t see you the moment you arrived, and the d<«tor 
 »d he might. No, he won't know you'.. he« yet, 
 
 tW o^hl^™ "^ " -"^ ^" - --> i' - 
 JJ^ ni go up alone, Mrs. Brunton, if you won't 
 Jev^wa. lying i„ , Ug^ ^„^ ^_ ^^ ^^ 
 
 «» &«! . trauaparent h^id «me from under the 
 
rgygg !:•!. T • 
 
 «80 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 bed-clothes to meet Langholm's outstretched one, but 
 it fell back upon the sick man's breast instead. 
 
 " Do you foigive me ? " he whispered, in a voice 
 both hoarse and hollow. 
 
 "What for?'* smiled Langholm. "You had a 
 right to come where you liked; it is a free country, 
 Severino." 
 
 " But I went to your hotel — ^behind your back ! " 
 
 "That was quite fair, my good fellow. Come, I 
 mean to shake hands, whether you like it or not" 
 
 And the sound man took the sick one's hand with 
 womanly tenderness ; and so sat on the bed, looking far 
 into the great dark smks of fever that were human 
 eyes; but the fever was of the brain, for the poor 
 fellow's hand was cooL 
 
 " You do not ask me why I did it," came from the 
 tremulous lips at last 
 
 " Perhaps I know." 
 
 « I will tell you if you are right." 
 
 " It was to see her again — your kindest friend — and 
 mine," said Langholm, gently. 
 
 " Yes ! It was to see her again — before I die ! " 
 
 And the black eyes blazed again. 
 
 "You are not going to die," said Langholm, with 
 the usual reassuring scorn. 
 
 " I am. Quite soon. On your hands, I only fear. 
 And I have not seen her yet ! " 
 
 "You shall see her," said Langholm, tenderly, 
 gravely. He was rewarded with a slight pressure of 
 
ONE WHO WAS NOT BIDDEN «81 
 
 the emaciated hand ; but for the first time he suspected 
 that all the scrutiny was not upon one side— that the 
 sick youth was trying to read him in his turn. 
 
 « I love her ! " at last cried Severino, in rapt whispers. 
 « Do you hear me ? I love her ! I love her ! What 
 does it matter now ? " 
 
 "It would matter to her if you told her," rejoined 
 I^angholm. « It would make her very unhappy." 
 
 " Then I need not tell her." 
 
 " You must not, indeed." 
 
 "Very well, I will not. It is a promise, and I keep 
 my promises ; it is only when I make none " 
 
 " That's all right," said Langholm, smiling. 
 
 ** Then you will bring her to me ? " 
 
 "I shall have to see her first, and the doctor." 
 
 « But you will do your best ? That is why I am 
 here, remember ! I shall teU the doctor so myself." 
 
 « I will do my best," said Langholm, as he rose. 
 
 A last whisper followed him to the door. 
 
 "Because I worship her ! " were the words. 
 
CHAPTER XXV 
 
 A POINT TO LANGHOLM 
 
 ** I AM glad you have come back,'' said Dr. Sedley with 
 relief. " Of course eventually he will require trained 
 nursing, either here or somewhere else ; there is only one 
 end to such a case, but it needn't come yet, unless he 
 has another hemorrhage. I understand you offered him 
 your cottage while you were away, but there was some 
 muddle, and he came before they wera ready for him F 
 It was like your kindness, my dear fellow, only never 
 you send another consumptive to the north-east coast 
 or anywhere near it ! As to his seeing any ladies who 
 like to look him up, by all means, only one at a time, 
 and they mustn't excite him. Your return, for example, 
 has been quite enough excitement for to-day, and I 
 should keep him quiet for the next twenty-four 
 hours." 
 
 The doctor had called within an hour of the return 
 of Langholm, who repeated these stipulations upstairs, 
 with his own undertaking in regud to Rachel. He 
 would write that night and beg her to call the follow- 
 ing day. No, he preferred writing to going to see her, 
 
A POINT TO LANGHOLM 
 
 S88 
 
 and it took up far less time. But he would write at 
 once. And, as he went downstairs to do so then and 
 there, Langholm asked himself whether an honourable 
 man could meet the Steels again without reading to 
 their fi&ces the notes that he had made in London and 
 conned in the train. 
 
 This letter written, there was a small pile of them 
 awaiting attention on top of the old bureau; and 
 Langholm sat glancing at proofs and crumpling up 
 press-cuttings until he needed a lamp. The letter 
 that he kept to the last looked like one of the rare 
 applications for his autograph which he was not too 
 successful to welcome as straws showing the wind of 
 ^pular approval In opening the envelope, however, 
 he noticed that it bore the Northborough postmark, 
 also that the handwriting was that of an illiterate 
 person, and his very surname misspelt. The contents 
 were as follows : — 
 
 liil 
 
 "VowrBaowvQB, Arousr 18, 189— 
 
 "Mn. Lakgham, Sib, 
 
 "I here as you are on the tracks of them 
 that murdered Alexander Minchin, if you war. > 
 know of them that had a Reason for doing it I v^ 
 give you the straight Tip. 
 
 "I have been out to your place to-night, but 
 you are only due home to-morrow night, therefore I 
 will be your way again to-morrow night, but will 
 only come to the cross-roads as your old girl look 
 
S84 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 •uspichious lost night and this is on the strick 
 Q.T. 
 
 **Till to-morrow night then at the cross-road 
 near your place, fixim nine to ten to-nion-ow night 
 when you will here of something to you 
 advantage, 
 
 " Believe your's faithly, 
 
 **JoHN William Abel." 
 
 iv^m 
 
 Langholm could not guess who this man Abe 
 might be, but idly imagined him one of the innumer 
 able drinking drones who stood about the stres 
 comers of Northborough from morning till nigh 
 throughout the year. This one had more informatioi 
 than the common run, with perhaps more cunninj 
 and ingenuity to boot. Langholm deemed it discree 
 not to mention the matter to his dear " old girl "" o 
 disrespectful reference, who served him an excelleni 
 supper at eight o'clock. And little better thai 
 an hour later, having seen the invalid once more 
 and left him calm and comfortable for the night 
 the novelist salhed forth to meet his uuknowi 
 correspondent. 
 
 It was a dark night, for the rain was by no mean: 
 over, though not actually falling at the moment ; and 
 the cross-roads, which lay low, with trees in all foui 
 angles, was a dark spot at full moon. As be 
 approached with caution, rapping the road with hia 
 stick in order to steer clear of the ditch, Langholm 
 
 l'»li 
 
A POINT TO LANGHOLM 285 
 
 wished he had come on his bicycle, for the sake of 
 the light he inig:;t have had from its lamp ; but a 
 light there was, ready waiting for him, though a 
 very small and feeble one; for his illiterate corre- 
 spondent was on the ground before him, with a cutty, 
 pipe in full blast. 
 
 "Name of Langholm?" said a rather rollicking 
 ▼oice, with a rank puff and a shower of sparks, as the 
 cautious steps followed the rapping stick. 
 
 "That's it," said Langholm'; "if yours is Abel, I 
 have got your letter." 
 
 "You have, have you?" cried the other, with 
 the same jovial familiarity. "And what do you 
 think of it?" 
 
 The glowing pipe lit a wild brown beatd and 
 moustache, thickly streaked v,lth grey, a bronzed 
 nose, and nothing more. Indeed, it was only at 
 each inhalation that so much stood out upon the 
 surrounding screen of impenetrable blackness. Lang, 
 holm kept his distance, stick in hand, h iraunt 
 figure as invisible as the overhanging trees; but 
 his voice might have belonged to the most formid- 
 able of men. 
 
 "As yet," said he, sternly, "I think very little of 
 either you or your letter. Who are you, and what 
 do you mean by writing to me like that ? " 
 
 "Steady, mister, you do know my name!" re- 
 monstrated the man, in rather more respectful tones. 
 "It's Abel— John William— and as much at your 
 
 lU 
 
 A'l 
 
 1 
 
I 
 
 11' 
 
 THE SHADOW OP THE HOP". 
 
 •ervice as you like if you take him proper ; but h 
 comes from a country where Jack isn't the dii 
 under his master's feet, and you're no master < 
 mine." 
 
 »*I don't want to be, my good fellow," rejoin« 
 Langholm, modifying his own manner in turn. " Thei 
 you're not a Northborough man ? ** 
 «Not me!" 
 
 **I seem to have heard your oice before," sale 
 Langholm, to whom the wild hair on the invisibh 
 face was also not altogether unfamiliar. "Where dc 
 you comr from ? " 
 «A little place called Australia." 
 "The devil you do!" 
 
 And Langholm stood very still in the dark, foi 
 now he knew who this man was, and what manner 
 of evidence he might furnish, and against whom. 
 The missing links in his own secret chain, what if 
 these were about to be given to him by a miracle, 
 who had discovered so much ahready by sheer chance ! 
 It seemed impossible; yet his instinct convinced 
 Langholm of the nature of that which was to come. 
 Without another word he stood until he could trust 
 himself to speak carelessly, while the colonist made 
 traditional comparisons between the old country as 
 he found it and the one which he wished that he 
 had never left 
 
 "I know you," said Langholm, when he paused. 
 ** You're the man I saw * knocking down your cheque,' 
 
A POINT TO LANGHOLM 
 
 «87 
 
 inn near here called the 
 
 M you called it, at an 
 Packhorse.' 
 
 «I am «,!" cried the fellow, with sudden wvagery. 
 
 And do you know where I got the chequTio 
 knock down? I believe he', a friend of^you«; 
 It. h,m rve come to talk to you about to-night, and 
 he callB himself Steel ! ^ « w ana 
 
 be ! added Abel, bitterly. 
 " You knew him in Australia, then ? »» 
 
 But who told you he was ever out there? Not him, 
 1 il warrant ! ** 
 
 « I happen to know it," said Langholm, « that's all. 
 But do you mean to tell me that it was Mr. Steel to 
 whom you referred in your letter ? '' 
 "I do so ! " cried Abel, and clinched it with an oath 
 "You said 'they.'- ^• 
 
 "But I didn't mean anybody else." 
 Langholm lowered his voice. Neither foot nor hoof 
 had p«Med or even sounded in the distance. There 
 was scarcely a whisper of the ti^; an oniina^ 
 approaA could have been heard for hundreds of yartfe 
 a stealthy one for tens. Langholm had heanJ nothing' 
 tho^hhiseai. were pricked. And yet he lowered hL 
 
 " Do you actuaUy hint that Mr. Steel has or could 
 have been a gainer by Mr. Minchin's death ? " 
 
 1! 
 
I 
 
 fl88 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 Abel pondered his reply. 
 
 " Wh*t I will My," he declared ftt length, "!• U»t 
 
 he might have been a loaer by hit life I * 
 
 " You mean if Mr. Minchin had gone on living ?" 
 «« Yd — amounts to the same thing, doesnt it ? ** 
 "You are not thinlcing of— of Mr*. Steel ? " queried 
 
 Langholm, after pausing in his turn. 
 
 ♦♦ Bless you, no ! She wasn't bom or thought of, so 
 
 far as we was concerned, when we were fXL three mates 
 
 up the bush.** 
 "Ah, all three!" 
 "Steel, Minchin, and me," nodded Abel, as his cutty 
 
 glowed. 
 
 " And you were mates ! * 
 
 " Well, we were and we weren't : that's just it," said 
 Abel, resentfully. " It would be better for some coves 
 now, if we'd aU been on the same footin' then. But 
 that we never were. I was overseer at the principal 
 out-sUtion— a good enough billet in its way- and 
 Minchin was overseer in at the homestead. But Steel 
 was the boss, damn him, trust Steel to be the boas ! " 
 
 "But if the station was his?" queried Langholm. 
 « I suppose it was a station ?" he added, as a furious 
 shower of sparks came from the cutty. 
 
 « Was it a station ? " the ex-overseer echoed. " Only 
 about the biggest and the best in the blessed back- 
 blocks— that's all ! Only about half the size of your 
 blessed little old country cut out square ! Oh, yes, ii 
 was his all right; bought it for a song after the bad 
 
A POINT TO LANGHOLM 
 
 !^ fift«» year .go, and »ld it In the end for a 
 qu«ii» of a million, after making a fortune off of hi. 
 dip. alone, ^nd what did I get out of it ?" demanded 
 Abel, ft,no«.ly. -What wa. my .hare? A beggarly 
 cheque «me a. he give me the other day, and^a 
 penny more ! " /» « uot a 
 
 " I don't know how much that was,- remarked Lani?. 
 
 holm ; "but if you weren't a partner, what claim bul 
 
 you on the profit.?'' 
 « Aha! that', tellings" «id Abel, with a .udden 
 
 change both of tone and humour; "that', what Pm 
 
 hoe to tell you, if you really want to know 1 Rum 
 thing, w«nt It ? One night I turn .p. like any other 
 •waggy, humping bluey, and next week I'm oveneer on 
 a good ««w (I wiU «iy that) and my own bow out at 
 tte out..tahon. Same way, one morning I tun, up at 
 hw gmnd homertead here-and you know what • It 
 wa. a cheque for three figure.. I don't mind teUinir 
 you. It ought to have been four. But why do you 
 »uppo«. he made it even three ? Not for charity, you 
 ^^^your boot.! I leave it to you to gue«. what 
 
 ^ The riddle wa. perhap. more easily soluble by an 
 inveterate novelist than by the average member of the 
 commumty. It wa. of a kind which Langholm had 
 been concocting for many years. 
 
 "I suppose there is wme secret," said he, takinir a 
 ft«h gnp of hi. rtick, in madden loathing of the ]i4ir 
 type which he had only Hagined hitherto 
 
; 11' 
 
 iHi 
 
 
 f90 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 •Ah! Yoa**t hit It," pumd the wretch. 
 
 " It U evidwit enough, and •Iwayi hM heen, for that 
 matter laid Langholm, coldly. "And w you know 
 whathii TwtUl" 
 
 "I do, U4uter.'' 
 
 " And did Mr. Minchin ? " 
 
 "Hedid.'' 
 
 " You would tell hi n, of coune ? " 
 
 •nie Mrt of scorn was too delicate for John 
 William Ahel, yet even he seemed to r««lise that an 
 adminion mutt be accompanied by some form of 
 
 excuie. 
 
 « I did tell him," he laid, "for I felt I owed it to 
 
 him. He was a good friend to me, was Mr. Minchin ; 
 
 and neither of us was getting enough for all we did. 
 
 That was what I felt ; to have his own way, the boss'd 
 
 ride roughshod over u' both, and he himself only— but 
 
 that's telUngs again. You must wait a bit, mister! 
 
 Mr. Minchin hadn't to wait so very long, because I 
 
 thought we con Id make him listen to two of us, so one 
 
 night I told him what I knew. You could ha' knocked 
 
 him down with a feather. Nobody dreamt of it in 
 
 New South Wales. No, there wasn't a hand on the 
 
 place who would have thought it o' the boss ! Well, 
 
 he was fonc« of Minchin, treated him Uke a son, and 
 
 perhaps he wasn't such a good son as he might have 
 
 been. But when he told the boss what I told him, and 
 
 made the suggestion that I thought would come best 
 
 from a gent like him " 
 
 
A POINT TO LANGHOLM 
 
 «mt jou rfK,uld both b. Uken into partaT.hip on 
 
 Well, yes, it came to something like that" 
 "Go on Abel. I won't intern, .gain. What 
 happened then?** 
 
 boI^^M "Lf f *» S' »-^ Mr. Mlnchinf TT.e 
 
 ff^hed have to; and go he did, with hi. tail b- 
 twe«, hi. leg., and not another word to anybody 
 I behove it wa. the boss who .f-rt-^ w i '"v ^' 
 Aitttralia." ^^^ *° Wctern 
 
 J Not .uch a bad bo.., • «„^ked Langholm, dryly • 
 
 amount "And what happened to you?'' he added 
 •bandoning reflection by an effort 
 ** I .tayed on." 
 "Foigiveu?" 
 
 " If you like to put it that way." 
 "And you both filed the ^ret for foture um f " 
 Don't talk through your neck, nrnter," wid Ah^l 
 huffily. « What are you drivin' at ? " ^ 
 
 « You kept thi. secret up your deeve to play it for 
 .1 It wa. worth in a country where it would' be' ^l^ 
 more^than ,t wa. in the back-block.? ^t'. aU I 
 
 •'Well, if I did, that', my own affair." 
 Oh, certainly. Only you came he« at your 
 own^proposal in onier, I .uppose, to .eU thi. .^t 
 
 P 
 
 amj 
 
THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 «Y«,toseUit'' 
 
 "Then, you see, it a more or lew my afiUr « 
 
 «It may be," said Abd, doggedly. And his fiwe 
 was very evil as he struck a match to re-light 
 his pipe; but before the flame Langholm had stepped 
 backward, with his stick, that no superfluous light 
 might faU upon his thin wrists and half-filled 
 
 « You are tuie,^ he pursued, « that Mr. Minchm was 
 in possession of this precious secret at the time of his 
 
 death ?** 
 "I told it him myself. It isn't one you would 
 
 forget" 
 "Was it one that he could prove ?* 
 
 « Easily." 
 
 "Couldl?" 
 
 « Anybody could." 
 
 "Well, and what* s your price P* 
 
 "Fifty pounds." 
 
 " Nonsense ! Fm not a rich man like Mr. SteeL" 
 
 "I dont take less from anybody— not much less, 
 
 anyhow I " 
 
 « Not twenty in hard cash ?" 
 
 " Not me ; but look here, mister, you show me thirty 
 
 and well see." 
 
 The roice drew uncomfortably dose. And there 
 were steps upon the cross-roads at last; they were 
 those of one advancing with lumbering gait and of 
 
 !UL^.- A^l^*! 
 
A POINT TO LANGHOLM 
 
 t08 
 
 another stepping nimbly backward. The latter laughed 
 aloud. 
 
 ** Did you really think I would come to meet the 
 writer of a letter b'ke yours, at night, in a spot like 
 this, with a single penny-piece in my pocket ? Come 
 to my cottage, and well settle there."* 
 
 ** Tm not coming in ! *• 
 
 "To the gate, then. It isn't three hundred yards 
 from this, ril lead the way." 
 
 Langholm set off at a brisk walk, his heart in his 
 mouth. But the lumbering steps did not gain upon 
 him ; a muttered grumbling was their only accompani- 
 ment ; and in a minute they saw the lights. In another 
 minute they were at the wicket 
 
 ** You really prefer not to come in ?* 
 
 There was a sly restrained humour in LanghoImV 
 tone. 
 
 ** I do — and don't be long." 
 
 " Oh, no, I shan't be a minute.* 
 
 There were other lights in the other cottage. It was 
 not at all late. A warm parallelogram appeared and 
 disappeared as Langholm opened his door and went 
 in. Was it a sound of bolts and bars that followed? 
 Abel was still wondering when his prospective pay- 
 master threw up the window and reappeared across 
 the sill. 
 
 **It was a three-figure cheque you had from Mr. 
 Steel, was it?" 
 « Yes— yes— but not so loud ! " 
 
w:^-- 
 
 SIM THE SHADOW OF THE ROFB 
 
 **Aiid then he sent you to the devil to do jaox 
 
 worst ? ** 
 « That's your way of putting it* 
 " I do the same — without the cheque I ** 
 And the window shut with a slam, the hasp was 
 
 fiastened, and the blind pulled down. 
 
CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 rufBan did not 
 
 A CAKDIKAL POINT 
 
 The irresistible discomfiture of thi 
 
 affect the value of the evidence whii ^ ,„,^^. 
 
 teered. Langholm was glad to remember that he had 
 volunteered it ; the creature was well served for his 
 spite and his cupidity ; and the man of peace and 
 letters, whose temperament shrank from contention of 
 any kind, could not but congratulate himself upon an 
 incidental triumph for which it was impossible to feel 
 the smallest compunction. Moreover, he had gained 
 Ws point It was enough for him to know that there 
 was a certain ecret in Steel s life, upon which the 
 wretch Abel had admittedly traded, even as his superior 
 Mmchin had apparently intended to do before him. 
 Only those two seemed to have been in this secret, and 
 one of them still lived to reveal it when called upon 
 with authority. The nature of the secret mattered 
 nothing in the meanwhile. Here was the motive, 
 without which the case against John Buchanan Steel 
 must have remained incomplete. Langhohn added it 
 to his notes—and trembled ! 
 
 S88 
 
 ^I'^^j 
 

 «96 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 He had compunction enough about the major 
 triumph which now seemed in certain store for him ; 
 the larger it loomed, the less triumphant and the 
 more tragic was its promise. And, with all human 
 perversity, an unforeseen aid quite involuntary sym- 
 pathy with Steel was the list complication in Luig. 
 holmes mind. 
 
 He had to think of Rachel in order to harden his 
 heart against her husband ; and that ground was the 
 most dangerous of all. It was strange to ? , ughohn to 
 battle against thai by the bedside of a weaker brother 
 fallen in the same fight Yet it was thei« he spent 
 the night He had scarcely slept all the week. It was 
 a comfort to think that this vigil was a useful one. 
 
 Severino slept fitfully, and Langholm had never a 
 long stretch of uninterrupted thought 
 
 But before morning he had decided to give Steel a 
 diance. It was a vague decision, dependent on the 
 chance that Steel gave him when they met, as meet 
 they must Meanwhile Langholm had some cause for 
 satisfaction with the mere resolve ; it defined the line 
 that he took with a somewhat absurd but equally 
 startling visitor, who waited upon him early in the 
 forenoon, in the person of the Chief Constable of 
 Northborough. 
 
 This worthy had heard of Langholm's quest, and 
 desired to be informed of what success, if any, he had 
 met with up to the present Langholm opened his 
 eyes. 
 
A CARDINAL POINT 
 
 197 
 
 "It's my own Aow," he protested. 
 
 Chief Constable, who was enormously fat 
 ^^^t^wpuld be Scotla^i YardV admitted Langholm, 
 
 JJlf'^J'lu^^ ^'"^ "P ^^"''' *"«g«t«i the fet 
 t?^" *^* "" ^^" "*»"^^ '-t'^y «>«"« 
 
 bnght as the eyes of the obese often are, or as they 
 ^m by contmt with a laige crass face. Langholm 
 fanaed he perceived a glinimer of his own enliiten 
 ment, and instinctively he lied, 
 ceil- *" "«t «kely to get him np here,- he said. 
 T^ 18 about the last place where I should look ' " 
 ITie Chief Constable took his departure with a 
 cunous smile. Langholm began to feel uneasy; his 
 unforeseen sympathy with Steel assumed the form of an 
 actual fear on his behalf. Severino was another thorn 
 in his side. He knew that Rachel had been written 
 ^ and fell into a fevei of impatience and despair 
 because the morning did not bring her to his beds^ 
 She was not coming at aU. She had refused to come 
 -;<>r her husband would not allow it So he must die 
 wi hout seemg her again ! The man was as unreason- 
 abk « ^k men will be; nothing would console him 
 hL^^ I undertakmg to go to Normanthoipe 
 himself .fler lunch and plead in per«>n with SI 
 
THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 .if 
 
 stony-hearted lady or her tyrannical lord. This plan 
 suited Langholm well enough. It would pave the way to 
 the ** chance ^ which he had resolved to give to Rachel^s 
 hushand. 
 
 That resolve was not weakened by successive en- 
 counters, first with a policeman near the entrance 
 gates, next with a trespasser whom Lan^olm rightly 
 toolc for another policeman in plain clothes, and finally 
 with the Woodgates on their way from the house. 
 The good couple welcomed him with a warmth beyond 
 his merits. * 
 
 " Oh, what a blessing you have come ! ^ cried Moma, 
 whose kind eyes discovered a tell-tale moisture. " Do 
 please go up and convince Mrs. Steel that you can^ be 
 re-arrested en a charge on which youVe already been 
 tried and acquitted ! "" 
 
 " But of course you can%^ said Langholm. ** Who 
 has put that into her head, Mrs. Woodgate ? * 
 
 *'The place is hemmed in by police.^ 
 
 ** Since when ? " asked Langholm, quickly. 
 
 " Only this morning.'* 
 
 Langholm held his tongue. So the extortioner 
 Abel, outwitted by the amateur policeman, had gone 
 straight to the professional force ! The amateur had 
 not suspected him of such resource. 
 
 ** I don''t think . this has anything to do with Mrs. 
 Steel,^ he said at last ; "in fact, I think I know what 
 it means, and I shall be only too glad to reassure 
 her, if I can." 
 
A CARDINAL POINT 
 
 S99 
 
 But his own face was not reassuring, as Hugh 
 Woodgate plainly told him in the first words which 
 the vicar contributed to the discussion. 
 
 ** I have been finding out things— I have not been 
 altogether unsuccessful— but the things are rather on 
 my mind," the author explained. " How does Steel 
 take the development, by tiie way ? ** 
 
 *' As a joke ! " cried Moma, with indignation ; her 
 husband was her echo both as to words and tone ; but 
 Langholm could only stare. 
 
 "I must see him," he exclaimed decisively. "By 
 the way, once more, do you happen to know whether 
 Mrs. Steel got a letter from me this morning, Mrs. 
 Woodgate?" 
 
 "Yes, she did," answered Moma at once. Her 
 manner declared her to be not unacquainted with the 
 contents of the letter, and Langholm treated the 
 declaration as though spoken, 
 
 ** And is she not going to see that poor fellow ? " 
 he asked. 
 
 **At once," said Moma, "and I am going with 
 her. She is to call for me with the phaeton at 
 three." 
 
 "Do you know anything about him, Mrs. Wood- 
 gate?" 
 
 "All!" 
 
 "Then I can only commend him to the sympathy 
 which I know he has akeady. And I will talk to 
 Mr. Steel while you are gone." 
 
 il' 
 
 !• 
 
 
t ti 
 
 I li 
 
 l^'i I' 
 
 800 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 The fintMiitenoewas almost mechanical. Thatmatfo 
 was off Langhokn's mind, and in a flash it was fuU 
 occupied with the prospect before himself. He lifle 
 the peak of his cap, but, histead of remounting hi 
 bicycle, he wheeled it very slowly up the drive. Th 
 phaeton was at the door when Langholm also arrived 
 and Rachel herself ran out to greet him on th 
 stepa— tall and lissome, in a light-coloured drivinj 
 cloak down to her heels, and a charming hat- 
 yet under it a face still years older than the on 
 he wore in his heart, though no less beautiful in it 
 distress. 
 
 "I hardly dare ask you!" she gasped, her hanc 
 trembling in his. "Have you found out-anythini 
 ataU?'' 
 
 « A little." 
 
 And he opened his hand so that hers must drop. 
 
 ««0h, but anything is better than nothmg ! Com* 
 in and tell me— quick ! " 
 
 « Bravo ! " added an amused voice from the porch. 
 
 It was Steel, spruce and serene as ever, a pink glow 
 upon his mobile fece, a pink flower m his reefer 
 jacket, a jaunty Panama straw covering his white 
 hairs, and buckskin shoes of kindred purity upon his 
 small and well-shaped feet. Langholm greeted him 
 iL turn, only trusting that the tremors which had 
 been instantly communicated - his own right hand 
 might not be detected by the *.-^e it was now com- 
 pelled to meet. 
 
A CARDINAL POINT aoi 
 
 **But am I not to hear also?" demanded Rachel 
 My dear M« Ste.1, the« i. very little to tell yoo 
 « yet I only w«h there were more. But one or two 
 little point, there are-if you would not mind my Z 
 mentionmg the n to your husband ?^ 
 
 "Oh, of course.'' 
 
 Hiei* wa. no pique in the tone. ITiere wa. only 
 dMappointment—and despair. ^ 
 
 Steel, as they watched the phaeton diminish down a 
 <lnve like a narrow Roman road. 
 
 «nTr Tu*^ I"* ''^^ ^''^ '^^ *»" "J«^ the 
 no^relut, with a rather heavy sigh. 
 
 "Well let us have a cigar' and your new.. I 
 confe^i I am interested. A stroll, too, would be 
 pleasanter than sitting indoors, don't you think? 
 The thickest walls have long ears, Langholm, when 
 
 S TtT O ° ;'' '"^ " ""^^' -«- The 
 ^ughter of them. It i. n.ost amusing; every one 
 of them wants to stay and be forgiven. The neigh- 
 ^urs are little better. Hie excuses^ have s^f^ 
 to make, «>me of them I I suppose they though 
 that we should either flee the country or Jve 
 them the sanguinary satisfaction of a double suicWe. 
 
 ;^^ir:' 
 
 ■:-':'i.3K 
 
8M THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 lii 
 
 Well, w« an not going to do either one or tl 
 other; we ue agreed about that, if about nothin 
 ebe. And my wife \ behaved like a trump, thoug 
 she wouldn't lilce to uiar me lay so; it is her wii 
 that we shoula sit tighter than if nothing he 
 happened, and not b«en go to Switzerland as v 
 intended. So we are advertising for a fresh domest 
 crew, and we dine at Ireby the week after n.?i 
 It is true that we got the invitation before the fi 
 fell into the fire, l^ut I fancy we may trust the love 
 nesses not to do anything startling. I am intereste 
 however, to see what they will do. It is pretty sa 
 to be an object-lesson to the countryside, one w{ 
 or the other.** 
 
 During this monologue the pair had strolled fi 
 afield with their cigars, and Langholm was beginnir 
 to puff his furiously. At first he had merely ma 
 veiled at the other's coolness; now every feelii 
 in his brenst was outraged by the callousness, tl 
 flippancy, the cynicism of his companion. The; 
 came a moment when Langholm could endure tl 
 combination no longer. Steel seemed disposed \ 
 discuss every aspect of the subject except that ( 
 the investigations upon which his very life migl 
 depend. Langholm glanced at him in horror as th( 
 wedked. The broad brim of his Panama hat thre 
 his &uee in shadow to the neck; but to Langholm 
 heated imagination, it was the shadow of the black ca 
 a!^ of the rope itself that he saw out of the come] 
 
 
 W^'f^M' 
 
A CARDINAL POINT 800 
 
 of hit ejes. It w» the shadow that had lit upon 
 th« wife the year before, happily to lift for ever- 
 now it waa letUing upon the husband; and it rested 
 with Langholm-if it did rest with him-and how 
 could he be sure? His mind was off at a tangent 
 He was not listening to Steel; without ceremony 
 he interrupted at last 
 "I thought you came out to listen to me ?" 
 "My dear fellow," cried Steel, "and so, to be sure, 
 I did I Why on earth did you let me rattle on? Let 
 me see-the point was-ah, yes ! Of coune, my dear 
 Langhohn, you haven't really anything of any account 
 to tell ? I considered you a Quixote when you under- 
 took your quest ; but I shaU begin to suspect a dash of 
 Munchausen if you teU me you have found out any- 
 thing in the inside of a week ! *" 
 "Nevertheless," said Langholm, grimly, "I have." 
 "Anything worth finding out?" 
 "I think so." 
 
 ^'You don't mean to tell me you have struck a 
 clue?" 
 
 "I believe I can lay hands upon the criminal," said 
 Langholm, as quietly as he could. But he was the 
 more nervous man of the two. 
 
 The other simply stood still and stared his incredulity. 
 The stare melted into a smile. « My dear fellow ! " he 
 murmured, in a mild blend of horror and reproof, as 
 though it were the fourth dimension that Langholm 
 claimed to have discovered. It cost the discoverer no 
 
 ^1 
 
 i' ^' 
 
 ^^:^^^«i 
 
iM THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 ibmII cflbrt not to 07 out that bt oould lay haodt on 
 him tfatn «nd than. Tlie untpokoi wordi wtrt galptd 
 down, Aud ft simpk repetition rabitituted at tbe lait 
 
 **I oould iweor to him, m/wlf,** added Langholm. 
 ''It zeniains to be leen whether there it eridence enough 
 to convict** 
 
 " Have you communicated with the police ?* 
 
 ••Notyet** 
 
 ** They leem to have lome abnird bee in their hdmet 
 down here, you knc^.** 
 
 **lliey don*t get it from me.* 
 
 It was impoMible any longer to doubt the import of 
 Langhdm*s eamert and rather a^tated manner. He 
 was 6i(Ang hit bett to tuppren hit agitatiim, but that 
 ttnngthraed tlM impreition that be had indeed dia- 
 ooverad tomething which he hiiutelf honestly believed 
 to be the truth. There wat an immediate alteration in 
 the tone and bearing of his host 
 
 ** My dear fellow,** he laid, ** forgive my levity. If 
 you have really fouiMl out anything, it is a miracle; 
 but miracles do happen now and then. H««^8 the 
 pond, and there*s the boathouse behind those rhodo- 
 dendrons. Suppose you tell me the rest in the boat ? 
 We needn*t keep looking over our shoulders in the 
 middle of the pond ! ** 
 
 F<v an instant Langholm dreamt of the readiest and 
 the vilest resource; in another he remonbered, not 
 only that he could swim, but ^ insidious sympathy 
 for this man whicil a darker scoundrel bad sown in his 
 
 S^'A'f 
 
A CABOINAL POINT got 
 
 "lUuM.ght.-Mkl th. Utter, "th.t I «»dd Bk, to 
 
 But .«n Ungholm w„ „u ,:o»«ion. rf th. rinirtw 
 1% «po« „»d. ; h, l-d t.k« .„t hi. p«krt!b«r 
 «d «. nmoudy turning to th. 1««. th.t h. h.i 
 
 airf during hu met d«,pl«. night i, town. 
 " Got it dl dawn f laid Sted. 
 
 «l hMt I did mak. „„, „otM of . po«>ibI^-if 
 not . .mBj, d«m.ing-ou» .g«„rt the nuu. I m«u..' 
 And what m.y th. fint point be ii" inquired Steel 
 -hoj,u g«d^y drifting UcV int. the'ton. whS 
 I-ngholm h«l refuted «. the *„„; h. ^.l , 
 notice of it now. 
 
 «Thefi«t point,- said Lwigholm, slowlj, «i. that 
 h. w« in Chelsea, or at Iea.t within a ^ile of ^ 
 
 Jl 
 
 ■ i 
 
ISM 
 
 806 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 scene of the murder, on the night that it toolt 
 
 pkoe."" 
 
 "So were a good many people,'' remarked Steel, 
 smiling as he dipped the sculls in and out, and let his 
 supple wrists fall for the feather, as though he were 
 
 really rowing. 
 " But he left his— he was out at the time ! ** declared 
 
 Langholm, making his amended statement with all the 
 
 meaning it had for himself. 
 " Well, you can't hang him for that" 
 " He will have to prove where he was, then." 
 « I am afraid it will be for you to prove a little 
 
 more first 
 
 Langhohn sat very dogged with his notes. There 
 had been a pause on Steel's part; there was a thin new 
 note in his voice. Langhohn was too grimly engrossed 
 to take immediate heed of either detail, or to watch the 
 swift changes in the face which was watchmg him. 
 And there he lost most of all. 
 
 "The next point is that he undoubtedly knew 
 Minchin in Australia " 
 
 "Aha!" 
 
 « That he was and is a rich man, whereas Minchin 
 was then on the verge of bankruptcy, and that Min- 
 chin only found out that he was in England thirty- 
 six hours before his own death, when he wrote to his 
 old friend for funds." 
 
 « And you have really established all that !" 
 
 Sted had abandoned all pretence of ro»ring; Ws 
 
A CARDINAL POINT 807 
 
 tone v... on. of admiration, in both senses of the 
 ^Td and his dark eyes seemed to penetrate to the 
 hack 3t Unghoh; 's brain. 
 « I cMi e»v«lli.h it," was the reply. 
 
 .,-n T*" * . ^ ?'"'' ^°" ^'* *^°"" '^*'"'^«"i b"t you 
 wdl have to do something more before they will 
 listen to you at ScoUand Yanl. What aliut a 
 motive ? " 
 
 "I was coming to that; it is the last point with 
 wbch I shaU trouble you for the present." Lan;,. 
 holm took a final glance at his notes, then shut the 
 pocket-book and put it away. "The motive." he 
 continued, meeting Steel's eyes at kst, with a new 
 boldness m h« own-" the motive is self-defence! 
 
 shghtest doubt that Minchin intended blackmailing 
 tins ma^ at least to the extent of his own indebtedne« 
 m the aty of London." "^^ws 
 
 " Blackmailing him ? *» 
 
 Th«e WHS a further change of voice and manner; 
 and this time nothing was lost upon Charles Lanir- 
 holm. ** 
 
 "There cannot be the slightest doubt," he 
 reiterated, "that Minchin was in possession of a 
 secret concerning the man in my mind, which secret 
 he was determined to use for his own ends." 
 *K^*^ ."* motionless, his eyes upon the bottom of 
 the boat It was absolutely impossible to read the 
 towered fece; even when at length he raised it, and 
 
 SI 1 
 
■|ui 
 
 m 
 
 808 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 looked Langholm in the eyes once more, tie natural 
 inscrutability of the man was only more complete 
 than ever. 
 
 " So that is your case ! "* said he. 
 
 And even his tone might have been inspired either 
 by awe or by contempt, so truly rang the note 
 between the two. 
 
 "I should be sorry to have to meet it," observed 
 Langholm, " if I were he.'" 
 
 « I should find out a little more," was the retort, 
 « if I were you ! " 
 
 "And then?" 
 
 "Oh, then I should do my duty like a man — and 
 take all tl e emoluments I could." 
 
 The sneer was intolerable. Langholm turned the 
 colour of a brick. 
 
 "I shall!" said he through his moustache. "I 
 have consulted you; there wiU be no need to do 
 so again. I shall make a point of taking you at 
 your word. And now do you mind putting me 
 
 ashore?" 
 
 A few ndndrops were falling when they reached 
 the landing-stage ; they hurried to the house, to find 
 that Langholm's bicycle had been removed from the 
 place where he had left it by the firont entrance. 
 
 "Don't let anybody trouble," he said, un- 
 graciously enough, for he was still smarting from the 
 other's sneer. " I can soon find it for myself." 
 
 Steel stood on the steps, his midnight eyes upon 
 
A CARDINAL POINT soo 
 
 Wholm, the glint of a .n,Ue in those eye., but not 
 the vestige of one upon his lips. 
 "Oh, very weU,'' said he. « You know the side- 
 
 iTitrthf/f "'■'"'" ^ They have probably 
 put It m the first room on the left ; that is where we 
 
 r^Tl" "'' ^'' «""^ ^ ^^' *!»«"» at last 
 l»ood-bye, Langholm; remember my advice" 
 
 them, the host turned on his heel and disappeared 
 through bs own front door, leaving LangholTZ 
 angry in the rain. 8 im very 
 
 But anger was the last emotion for such an hour; 
 the judge might as well feel exasperated with the 
 prisoner at the bar, the common hangman with 
 th i---:^. on the drop. Langholm only wished that, 
 on ,^ one moment's reflection, he could rest con- 
 tent m so primitive and so single a stote of mind. 
 He knew well that he could not, and that every subUe 
 sort of contest lay before him, his own soul the 
 arraa. In t^e mean ime let him find hU bicycle and 
 
 flTZ. I^" ^"^ '"^ ^^"^ «Pot; for dear 
 It had been to him, aU that too memorable summer; 
 but now of a surety the curse of Cain brooded over it. 
 cold white wdls and deep-set windows like sunken 
 eyes in a dead face. 
 
 Langholm found the ,00m to which he had been 
 ^ ; m fact, he knew it of old. And there 
 
 l!IL 1*^"* ""'" ®^°° ^""'^J but their 
 lustrous plating and immaculate enamel did not 
 
 I 
 
•^■■■"11 
 
 810 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 diame his own old disreputable roadster, for the 
 missing machine certainly was not there. Langholm 
 was turning away when the glaaed gun-rack caught 
 his eye. Yes, this was the room in which the guns 
 were kept. He had often seen them there. They 
 had never interested him before. Langholm was no 
 shot Yet now he peered through the glass— gasped 
 —and opened one of the sliding panels with trembling 
 
 hand. 
 
 There on a nail' hung an old revolver, out of 
 place, rusty, most conspicuous; and at a glance as 
 like the relic in the Black Museum as one pea to 
 another. But Langholm took it down to make svae. 
 And the maker's name upon the barrel was the name 
 that he had noted down at the Black Museum ; the 
 point gained, the last of the cardinal points postulated 
 by the oflBcial who had shown him round. 
 
 The fortuitous discoverer of them all was leaving 
 like a thief— more and more did Langholm feel him- 
 self the criminal— when the inner door opened and 
 Steel himself stood beaming sardonically upon him. 
 
 "Sorry, Langholm, but I find I misled you about 
 the bicycle. They had taken it to the stebles. I 
 have told them to bring it round to the front" 
 
 "Thank you." 
 
 " Sure you won't wait till the ram is over ?" 
 
 "No, thank you." 
 
 « Well, wont you come through this way ? " 
 
 " No, thank you." 
 
A CARDINAL POINT 811 
 
 "Oh, aU right! Good-bye, Langholm; remember 
 my advice." 
 
 It was an inglorious exit that Langholm made; 
 but he was thinking to himself, was there ever so 
 inglorious a triumph ? He knew not what he had 
 said; there was only one thing that he did know 
 But was the law itself capable of coping with such a 
 man? 
 
 m 
 
CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 THE WHOLE TEUTU 
 
 " Have the ladies gone ?" 
 
 Langholm had ridden a long way round, through 
 the rain, in order to avoid them ; nor was there any 
 sign of the phaeton in the lane ; yet these were his 
 first whispered words across the wicket, and he would 
 not venture to set foot upon the noisy wet gravel 
 without Mrs. Brunton's assurance that the ladies had 
 been gone some time. 
 
 " And they've left him a different man,'' she added. 
 ** But what have you been doing to get wet like that ? 
 Dear, dear, dear ! I do call it foolish of yer ! Well, 
 sir, get out o' them nasty wet things, or I shall have 
 you to nurse an' all ! " 
 
 The kind blunt soul bustled to bring him a large 
 can of scalding water, and Langholm bathed rA 
 changed before going near the invalid. He also felt 
 another man. The thorough wetting had cooled his 
 q)irit and calmed his nerves. His head still ached 
 for sleep, but now it was clear enough. If only his 
 duty were half as plain as the mysteiy that was one 
 
THE WHOLE TRUTH si» 
 
 n. more I Jet it ,„ «,„rthi., j. ^^^ 
 
 ™d fo, cc,«c«t«tio„ upon hi. „™ i„„«ji.no„ ™ 
 
 »«t door; „d went up pre«„tly. intending to .iTv 
 fi»e or ten minutes at the most. B «> mj 
 
 1^° ^'i^'to'd^-r^ T"^ ^'"• 
 
 Jtermined to cut L or^t^ThorZ^er 
 It ™> more piecing to him to note how ne.t Z[ 
 c„m^.rt.ble the ,«,„ w„ now, for that w.. ^ o™ 
 l»«diwork, mi the ledie. had been there to 
 .t. TOe good Brunton. had mo«d mo.t of thd^ 
 
 ^tei"%n""th""\*°/"''" *^ ^ ^^ 
 migrated. In their ,tead were other thing, which 
 
 I-»ghoIm had unearthed fion. the lumb^^iTht 
 upper .tory du.i«l, ^ earned down «,d „p w«^ 
 hi. own hand. Thu. .t the bedride rtood a ^ 
 ChvpendjJe table, with a red Delft v.» uponlT 
 filled with .ueh ««. a. had »rWved the rZ A 
 tt?/ -ter h«l been ,pUt upon the table fiom 
 the y^ „d there w«, «,„ething aImo.t fu«,, in the 
 
 Oh, md Sevenno, «,he quite feU in love with 
 the table you found for me. «rf Jfa. Woodgate 
 wanted the vaao Tk«„ , . """"«*'e 
 
 .*u me ya«e. They were wondering if Mn. 
 Brunt<m would accept a price." "» " «i«. 
 
 hoXr^;"* •^™« '^ «"• »™"<».- -^ !-«- 
 
814 THE SflADOW OP THE ROPF 
 
 <*No? Mrs. Woodgate aaid she had never noticed 
 them in your room. Where did you pick them 
 up?** 
 
 Langholm looked at the things, lamps of remem- 
 brance alight beneath his lowered eyelids. " The teble 
 came from a little shop on Bushey Heath, in Hertford- 
 shire, you know. We— I was spending the day there 
 once . . . you had to stoop to get in at the door, I 
 remember. The vase is only from Great Portland 
 Street" The prides were upon his lips; both had 
 been bargains, a passing happiness and pride. 
 
 •*! must remember to tell them when they come 
 to-morrow,** said Severino. "They are the sort of 
 tiling a woman likes.** 
 
 « They are,** agreed Langholm, his lowered eyes still 
 Ibgering on the table and the vase ..." the sort of 
 thing a woman likes ... So these women are coming 
 again to-morrow, are they ? ** 
 
 The question was quite brisk, when it came. 
 
 " Yes, they promised.** 
 
 « Both of them, eh ? ** 
 
 <* Yes, I hope so ! ** The sick man broke into eager 
 explanations. "I only want to see her, Langholm! 
 That*8 all I want I don*t want her to myself. 
 What is the good ? To see her and be with her is 
 all I want — ever. It has made me so happy. It is 
 really better than if she came alone. Yon see, as it 
 is, I can*t say anythic^—that matters. Do you see ? ** 
 
 *< Perfectly,"" said Langholm, gently. 
 
THE WHOLE TRUTH 815 
 
 The lad lay gazing up at him with great eyes. 
 Langholm fancied their expression was one of in- 
 credulity. Twilight was falling early with the rain • 
 the cfc^ehient was smaU, and further contracted by an' 
 ove,g;t>wth of creeper; those two great eyes seemed 
 to shine the brighter through the dusk. Langhohn 
 Muld not make his visit a very short one, after aU. 
 He felt it would be cruel. 
 
 " What did you talk about, then ? " he asked. 
 
 A small smile came with the answer, « You ! " 
 
 «Me! What on earth had you to say about me?" 
 ** I heard all you had been doing." 
 "Oh, that" 
 
 "You know you didn't tell me, that evening in 
 town." * 
 
 " No, I was only beginning, then." 
 It seemed some months ago-more months since 
 that \ . y afternoon. 
 "Have you found out anything?" 
 Langholm hesitated. 
 « Yes." 
 
 Why should he lie? 
 
 "Do you mean to say that you have any suspicion 
 who It is ?" Severino was on his elbow. 
 
 "More than a suspicion. I am certam. There can 
 be no doubt about it A pure fluke gave me the due, 
 but every mortal thing fits it" 
 
 Severino dropped back upon his pillow. Langholm 
 
 I 
 
 •eemed gM to talk to him, to loosen his tongue. 
 
 to 
 
•16 THE SHADOW OP THE ROPE 
 
 unburden Ua heart ever lo little. And, indeed, ht 
 wugkd. 
 
 ** And what are you going to do about It ?** 
 
 ** That's my diffic<tlty. She must be cleand before 
 the world. That is the first duty— if it could be done 
 without-^making bad almost worse T 
 
 "Bad— worse? How could it, Langholm?* 
 
 No answer. 
 
 "Who do you say it is?" 
 
 No answer again. Langholm had not bargained to 
 say anything to anybody just yet 
 
 Severino raised himself once more upon an elbow. 
 
 ** I must know ! ^ he said. 
 
 Langholm rose, laughing. 
 
 « 111 tell you who I thought it was at first," said 
 he, heartily. " I don't mind telling you that, because 
 it was so absurd; and I think you'll be the first to 
 laugh at it. I was idiot enough to think it migui 
 you, my poor dear chap ! " 
 
 "And you dont think so still?" asked Severino, 
 harshly. He had not been the first to laugh. 
 
 " Of course I don't, my dear fellow." 
 
 " I wish you would sit down again. That's better. 
 So you know it is somo one else ?" 
 
 "So far as one can know anything." 
 
 " And you are going to try to bring it home to this 
 man?" 
 
 "I don't know. The police may save me the 
 trouble. I believe they are on the same scent at last 
 
THE WHOLE TRUl'H 
 
 -, 817 
 
 M^i'hile. I hf.ve glv«, him a. fair a warnln. 
 
 JY.» „«d„, h.„ j^ ^^. ^ ^^^^^^ ^^ 
 
 ;; I thought it. „u..f,ir thing to d..- 
 id^^^^htr-'*'-"'""""-'— ^-'^"t 
 
 idl^.^ih'^^r' ^«-"'- <'«>«>^ '•M,<,„t 
 
 "Itoouldn*t have been'* 
 "But it was." 
 
 «i^^te^p,r«oroftjr «: "">"■ "- 
 
 H. «. d^,.^ Thi. w„ the «„t .ig,. ■"" "^^ 
 
 "When vu the doctor here k.t?» a 
 I-ngholm in return. demwded 
 
 J^l'^ U-t threatened to break i.to . „b, 
 "I •" wh.t you think. Ho, <«, I convinc you 
 
 if' 
 
 I 
 
818 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 that I have all my wits about me ? Td rather not 
 hare a light ju«t yet—but in my bag you will 6nc 
 a writing-caie. It ii locked, but the keys are in mj 
 trouien pocket In my writing-case you will find i 
 sealed envelope, and in that a fuller confiession thai 
 I shall have breath to make to you. Take it down 
 stairs and glance at it— then come back.** 
 
 ** No, no,** said Langholm, hoarsely ; '* no, I believ( 
 you ! Yes — it was my first idea ! ** 
 
 **I hardly knew what I was doing,** Severini 
 whispered. ** I w4s delirious then, if you like ! Ye 
 I remember it better than anything else in al 
 my life. I have never forgotten it for an hour— sine 
 it first came back ! ** 
 
 <*You really were unconscious for days aftei 
 
 wards?** 
 
 ** I believe it was weeks. Otherwise, you must knoi 
 i^she will be the first to believe — I never could hav 
 
 let her ** 
 
 " My poor d«u: fellow— of course— of course.** 
 Langholm felt for the emaciated hand, and stroke 
 it as tiiough it had been a child*8. Yet that w< 
 the hand that had slain Alexander Minchin ! An 
 Lan^olm thought of it; and still his own wi 
 almost womanly in the tender pity of its touch. 
 
 ** I want to teU you,** the sick lad murmured. " 
 wanted to tell her — God knows it — and that aloi 
 was why I came to her the moment I could find oi 
 where she was. No — no — not that alone ! I ai 
 
I am 
 
 THE WHOLE TRUl'H 919 
 
 too ffl to pretend «,y mott. It wm not dl pretence 
 when I let you think it wa. onlj p^aion that drove 
 
 I had had nothing at aU to tell her-only to be near 
 h«r-^ I WM thi. afternoon ! But the other made 
 it a duty. Yet, when .he came thi. afternoon, I could 
 not do roy duty. I had not the courage. It wa. 
 too big a thing just to be with her again ! And 
 then the other lady-I thanked God for her too- 
 for she made it impowible for me to speak. But to 
 you I must . . . especially after what you say " 
 
 The man came out in Langholm's ministrations. 
 
 One minute," he said ; and returned in two or thn» 
 with a pint of tolerable champagne. « I keep a few 
 f«*r angels' visits," he explained; "but I am afraid I 
 must ight the candle. I will puf it at the other 
 
 aL A.7""' ^^°" "^'"^ "^ *""»>'«'? Now 
 dnnk, and teU me only what you feel inclined, neither 
 more nor less." 
 
 «It is Id! written down," began Severino, in better 
 voice for the firBt few drams: "how I first heard her 
 ■rnging through the open windows in the summer- 
 only last summer !-how she heard me playing, and 
 how afterwards we came to meet. She was un^ppy . 
 he was a bad husband ; but I only saw it for m^, 
 
 ^un7f """^ Tf *° "* ^" ^' way-Iiked to send 
 ~und for me to play when they had anybody there- 
 
 but thaje was only one ..ason why I went Oh, 
 yes ... the ground she trod on ... the air she breathed ! 
 
 I 
 
 mm — — 
 
8f0 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 I make no secret of it now ; if I made any then, it 
 was because I knew her too well, and lieared to lose 
 what I had got And yet— that brute, that bully, 
 that coarse ** 
 
 He checked himself by an effort that stained his 
 hce a sickly brown in the light of the distant candle. 
 Langholm handed him the tumbler, and a few more 
 drams went down to do the only good— the temporary 
 good— that human aid could do for Severino now. 
 His eyes brightenefl. Ha lay still and silent, collect- 
 ing strength and self-controL 
 
 « I was ill ; she brought me flowers. I never had 
 any constitution— trust a Latin race for that— and 
 I became very ill indeed. With a man like you, a 
 dull at worst; with me, pneumonia in a day. Then 
 she came to see me hersdf, saw the doctor, got in 
 all sorts of things, and was coming to nurse me 
 through the night herself. God bless her for the 
 thou^t alone! I was supposed not to know; 
 they thought I was unconscious abwidy. But I 
 kept conscious on purpose, I could have lived 
 throu^ anything for that alone. And she never 
 
 came! 
 
 "My landlady sat up instead. She is another of 
 the kindest women on earth; she thought far more 
 of me than I was ever worth, and it was she who 
 screened me through thick and thin during the 
 delirium that followed, and after that. She did not 
 tell the whole truth at the trial ; may there he no 
 
THE WHOLE TRUTH m 
 
 mer^for me hereafter if the law i. „ot „,ennful 
 to that «t««nch soul! She haa wved my life-for 
 
 and .he had been with me the whole long day-that 
 
 "D<«r »d. how it Mgered me .t the time! It 
 
 mZ^^ I ^J tt»t d» h«l »t. S.,«thu,g 
 tt. «y , he left her «, mud. He «. «dly ,„ 
 
 «»t t. the rtndow. And dl the wind.™ opLt. 
 were in '"arkne., except theii..- "^ 
 
 " Go on I " 
 
 « mat is it that you thought, Langholm ? « 
 
 ^i^^riL'',?**''''^*^^"*"^ That's aU.« 
 vvnat? Tell me, please, and then I will teTI 
 you* 
 
 ** All those garden walls-they connect" 
 
 J* You got through your window, climbed upon your 
 Za^'^^^.r^^^'^^^' ft occurred to you 
 
 S^^ lay looking at the imagbative man. 
 And yet jou could suspect another after that r 
 
8» THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 " Ah, there is some mystery there also. But it is 
 strange, indeed, to think that I was right in the 
 b^inning!^ 
 
 ** I did not know what I was doing,**^ resumed the 
 young Italian, who, like many a clever foreigner, 
 spoke more precise English than any Englishman; 
 that, with an accent too delicate for written repro- 
 duction, alone would have bewrayed him. **I still 
 have very little recollection of what happened between 
 my climbing out 6f owe garden and dropping into 
 theirs. I rememba that my feet were rather cold, 
 but that is about all. 
 
 '*It was near midnight, as you know, and the room 
 it happened in — the study — ^had the brightest light 
 of alL An electric lamp was blazing on the writing- 
 table at the window, and another from a bracket 
 among the books. The window was as wide open 
 as it would go, the lower sash thrown right up; 
 it was just above the scullery window, which is 
 half underground, and has an outside grating. The 
 sill was only the height of one's chin. I can tell 
 you all that now, but at the time I knew very 
 little until I was in the room itself. Thank you, 
 I will take another sip. It does me more good 
 than harm to tell you. But you will find it all 
 written down. 
 
 Langholm set down the glass and replenished it 
 The night had fallen without The single candle 
 in the ferthest comer supplied the only lights in it 
 
THE WHOLE TRUTH 
 
 l^kJd!^ "*" "** '^ **"* °*^^ ^^* **"**' ^y*" 
 **I spilt the ink 88 I was creeping over the desk. 
 
 TTiat » an odd thing to remember, but I waa looking 
 
 for something to wipe it up with when I heard their 
 
 voices upstairs.^ 
 ** You heard them both ? " 
 
 T u ^^-^"*"^'ng-«»d about me ! The first thing 
 I heard was my own name. Then the man came 
 ninumgdown. But I never tried to get away. The 
 doors were aU open. I had heard something else, and 
 I waited to tell him what a liar he was! But I 
 turned out the lights, so that she should not hear the 
 outcry, and sure enough he shut both doors behmd 
 him (you would notice there were two) before he 
 turned them on again. So there we stood. 
 
 "«Don^ let her hear us,' were my fir^ words; and 
 we stood and cursed each other under our breath. I 
 don't know why he didn't knock me down, or 
 ratiier I do know; it was because I put my hands 
 behmd my back and invited him to do it I was 
 M furious as he was. I forgot that there was any- 
 tting the matter with me, but when I began tellinir 
 him that there had been, he looked as though 
 he could have spat in my face. It was no use 
 going on. I could not expect him to believe a 
 word. 
 
 "At last he told me to sit down in the chair 
 opposite hi. ch«r, and I said, 'With pleaRire.' 
 
8M THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 Then he laid, * We'd better have a drink, because 
 only one of us is coming out of this room alive/ 
 and I said the same thing again. He was full of drink 
 already, but not drunk, and my own head was as 
 light as air. I was ready for anything. He un- 
 locked a drawer and took a brace of old revolvers 
 from the case in which I put them away again. I 
 locked up the drawer afterwards, and put his keys 
 back in his pocket, before losing my head and doing 
 all the rest that tl^ police saw through at a glance. 
 Sit still, Langholm 1 I am getting the cart before 
 the horse. I was not so guilty as you think. They 
 may hang me if they like, but it was as much his 
 act as mine. 
 
 ** He stood with his back to me, fiddling with the 
 levolvors for a good five minutes, during whidi time 
 I heard him tear his handkerchief in two, and 
 wondered what in the world he was going to do 
 next What he did was to turn round and go on 
 fiddling with the pistols behind his back. Then 
 he held out one in each hand by the barrel, telling 
 me to take my choice, that he didn't know which was 
 which himself, but only one of them was loaded. And 
 he had tapped the two halves of his handkerchief 
 round the chambers of each in such a way that neither 
 of us could tell when we were going to fire. 
 
 <*Then he tossed for first shot, and made me call, 
 •nd I won. So he sat down in his chair and finished 
 his drink, and told me to blaze arxMs at him firom 
 
THE WHOLE TRUTH 925 
 
 where I sat in the other chair. I tried to get out of 
 ^ p«tly because I seemed to hare seen more good in 
 Mmchin in those last ten minutes than in aU the 
 months that I had known him ; he might be a brute, 
 but he was a British brute, and aU right about fair- 
 pl»y. Besides, for the moment, it was difficult to 
 beheve he was serious, or even very angry. But I, on 
 my side, was more in a dream than not, or he would 
 not have managed me as he did. He broke out again 
 oirsed me and his wife, and swore that he would shoot 
 her too if I didn't go through with it You cant 
 tiiink of the things he was saying when-but I believe 
 he said them on purpose to make me. Anyhow I pulled 
 at kst, but there was only a click, and he answered 
 with another like lightning. That showed me how he 
 meant it, plainer than anything else. It was too late 
 to get out I set my teeth and puUed again 
 
 "Like the clash of swords," whispered Langholm, in 
 the pause. 
 
 Severino moved his head from side to side upon the 
 pillow. ^ 
 
 « No, not that time, Langholm. There was such a 
 report as might have roused the neighbourhood-you 
 would have thought-but I forgot to tell you he had 
 •hut the window and run up some shutters, and even 
 A«wn the curtains, to do for the other house, what 
 the double doors did for his own. When the smoke 
 lifted, he was lying back in his chair as though he had 
 
 wlen Aaiaan ° 
 
 asleep 
 
 • • • 
 
M6 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 V 
 
 **I think the wont was waiting for her to come 
 down. I opened both doors, but she never came. Then 
 I shut them rery quietly— and utterly lost my head. 
 You know what I did. I don^t remember doing half. 
 It was the stupid cunning of a real madman, the 
 broken ¥rindow, and the things up the chimney. I 
 got back as I had come, in the way that struck you as 
 possible when you were there, and I woke my land- 
 lady getting in. I believe I told her everything on the 
 spot, and that it was the last sense I spoke for weeks ; 
 die nursed me day and night that I might never tell 
 anybody else.** 
 
 So the story ended, and with it, as might have been 
 expected, the unnatural strength which had sustained 
 the teller till the last ; he had used up every ounce of 
 it, and he lay exhausted and collapsed. Langholm 
 became uneasy. 
 
 Severino could not swallow the champagne which 
 Langholm poured into his mouth. 
 
 Langholm fetdied the candle in high alarm — higher 
 yet at what it revealed. 
 
 Severino was struggling to raise himself, a deadly 
 leaden light upon his face. 
 
 ** Raise me up — ^raise me up.** 
 
 Langholm raised him in his arms. 
 
 ** Anothw — hemorrhage ! "* said Severino, in a gasping 
 whisper. 
 
 And his blood dripped with the words. 
 
THE WHOLE TRUTH 
 
 lAngholm propped him up and rushed out •houtinir 
 for Bruntou-for Mm. Bnmton-for anybody in th« 
 house. Both were in, and the woman came up bntvelv 
 without a word. ^ 
 
 « ni go for the doctor myself," said Langholm. « I 
 shall be quickest." 
 
 And he went on his bicycle, hatless, with an unlit 
 lamp. 
 
 But the doctor came too late. 
 
 i 
 
wmmmm. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII 
 
 IN THX MATTBE OF A MOTIVX 
 
 That wai between * eight and nine o'dock at night ; 
 before ten an outrageous thought occurred to the man 
 with the undisciplined imagination. It closed his 
 mind to the tragedy of an hour ago, to the dead 
 man lying upstairs, whose low and eager voice still 
 went on and on in his ears. It was a thought that 
 p o s se s se d Langholm like an unclean spirit from the 
 moment in which he raised his eyes from the last 
 words of the manuscript to which the dead man had 
 referred. 
 
 In the long low room that Langholm lived in a 
 fire was necessary m damp weather, irrespective of the 
 seas<m. It was on the fire that his eyes fell, straight 
 from the paper in his hand . . . 
 
 No one else had read it There was an explicit 
 assurance cm the point. The Chelsea landlady had 
 no idea that such a statement was in existence; she 
 wmild certainly have destroyed it if she had known ; 
 and frurther writtoi details convinced Langholm that 
 
IN THE MATTER OP A MOTIVE m 
 
 the woman would never speak of her own acooid. 
 Thm were strange sidelights on the feelings which the 
 young Italian had inspired in an unlikely breast • a 
 mother could hare done no more to shield him. On 
 ti»e night of the acquittal, for example, when he was 
 dowly recovering in her house, it had since come to 
 the liter's knowledge that this woman had turned 
 Mw. Minchin from her door with a lying statement as 
 to his whereabouts. This he mentioned to conHnn his 
 declaration that he always meant to tell the truth to 
 Rachel, that it was his 6rst resolve in the early sta«. 
 of his recovery, long before he knew of her arrest^ 
 trial, and that this woman was aware of that resolve 
 a. of all else. But he doubted whether she could be 
 made to speak, though he hoped that for his sake 
 she would. And Langholm grmned with set teeth as 
 he turned back to this passage: he would be diaboli- 
 caUy safe. 
 
 It was only an evil thought. He did not admit 
 It as a temptotion. Yet ho^ it stuck, and how it 
 grew I 
 
 There was the fire, as though Kt on purpose; in a 
 minute the written evidence could be destroyedfor ever- 
 and there was no other kind. Dead men teU no teles! 
 and hve men only those that suit them ! 
 
 It aU fittrf in so marveUously. To a villain it 
 would have been less a temptation than a veritable 
 Pftofhisemis. Langhohn almost wished he were a 
 
830 THE SHADOW OP THE ROPF 
 
 Thtn wu Steel Somtthiog remained for explanir 
 tion there, but there really was a caie againit him. 
 llw villain would let that case come on; the 
 would-be villain did so in hii own ready fancy, and 
 the end of it was a world Tvithout Steel but not 
 without his wife; only, she would be SteePs wife no 
 more. 
 
 And this brought Langholm to his senses. ** Idiot ! "" 
 he said, and went out to his wet paths and ruined 
 roses. But the ugly impossible idea dogged him even 
 there. * 
 
 **If Steel had been guilty— But he isnt, I tell you 
 — No, but if he had been, just for argument, would 
 she ever have looked — Hush! — idiot and egotist!— 
 No, but would she? And could you have made her 
 happy if she had ? — Ah, that's another thing ... I 
 wonder ! — It is worth wondering rbout ; you know you 
 have failed before. — Yes, yes, ye io you think I for- 
 get it? — No, but I must rem* c you. Are you the 
 type to make women happy, women with anything 
 in them, women with nerves? Are you not mood}, 
 morbid, uneven, fiill of yourself? — No, of my work — It 
 eoawB to the same thing for the woman. Cuold you 
 have m&de her happy? — ^yes or no! If no, then pull 
 yourself tf^ther and never think of it Isn't it always 
 better to be the good friend than the tiresome husband, 
 and, if you care for her, to show her your best side 
 instead of all your sides ? I thought so ! Then thank 
 your stars, and— never again 1 ** 
 
IN THE MATTER OF A MOTIVE 881 
 
 80 the two ToicM, that «n only one voice, within 
 Langholm that night, in the heavy fragrance of 
 hi. soaking garden, under the half-shut eye of a 
 waning moon; and, having conquered him, the voice 
 of seiue and sanity reminded him of his reward : 
 "Remember, too, how you promised to serve her; and 
 how, if less by management than good luck, you have, 
 •fter all, performed the very prodigy you undertook! 
 Go and tell her. I should go to-night No, it is 
 never too kte to bring good news. I should jump on 
 my bicycle and go now ! " 
 
 The old moon's eye drooped also over Normanthorpe 
 House, out of the clearest sky that there had been for 
 days. The Steels were strolling on the sweep of the drive 
 before the house, out for outing's sake for the first time 
 that day, and together for the sake of being together 
 for the first time that month. There was something 
 untoward in the air. In fact, there was suspicion, and 
 Rachel was beginning to suspect what that suspicion 
 was. She could not say absolutely that she did not 
 entertain it herself for a single instant. She had 
 entertained ard had dismissed the thought a good many 
 times. Why had he never told her his real motive in 
 marrying her? Some subtle motive there had been- 
 why conld he never tell her what it was? Then there' 
 was his intimacy with her first husband, which she 
 h.A only discovered by rhance, after the most sedulous 
 concealment on his part. And, finally, there was 
 the defiant character of his challenge to Langholm 
 
ttt THE SHADOW OF THE HOPE 
 
 M it w«r« to do Ut wont (not hit bait) m a 
 dttcetitv. 
 
 On th« other hand, there wm that woman's huthict 
 whidi no win woman disregards; and Rachel's in- 
 stinot had never cuti finned her fancies in this matter. 
 But within the last few hours her point of Tiew had 
 totally 4:h«uiged. Her husband was suspected. He 
 said so laughingly himself. He was in a certain 
 danger. Her place was by his side. And let it be 
 rem e mbered that, twfore his absolute refusal to answer 
 her orudal question about his prime motive for the 
 marriage, Rachel had grown rather to like that place. 
 
 llkey had been strolling quite apart, though chat« 
 ting amiably. Rachel had not dreamt of putting her 
 hand within his arm, as she hod sometimes done 
 towards the end before their quarrel. Yet she did it 
 again now, the very moment his quicker vision descried 
 the cyclist in the drive. 
 
 **l hope they are not going to run me in to-night,'' 
 he said. **If they do, I shall run them in for riding 
 without a light So it's Langholm ! Well, Langholm, 
 put salt on him yet ? " 
 
 "On whom?" 
 
 " Your murderer, of course." 
 
 " I have his confession in my pocket.** 
 
 It was the first time that Rachel had known her 
 husband taken visibly aback. 
 
 "Good God!" he cried. "Then you don't think 
 it's me any longer?" 
 
 ?-ii- 
 
IN THE MATTER OP A M(mVE 888 
 
 n^T^^u"^""^ NTTthdcM, M«. SU.J „^ 
 prepan for « ihock.** ^^ 
 
 »^«1 WM ahocked. But h«r ffri«f .n^ k 
 
 for th.t W .t l«..t ty th. fall tide of 1«, j„, ' 
 
 R »« . d«,bl, jojr. Not .riy ,™ld iUcM b. 
 
 ^ *" "« before th, ,.,«, b«t her h,„l«d 
 
 wooU etaad exonnmted et he, dde. m d„ rf 
 
 ?,^" b, tt. ,„ld. that d.y et U«t .- Lr'Z 
 aT^ ;b.k U^hota told of hi, tounie, with 
 
 L«ghohii th««,poi, ipoke no« opaj, of hi. 
 ^^^ -e^ Sted, who i„,t.„tly .dJitt^J it. 
 
 "But I owe yon m apology," the letter .dd«L 
 -»ot only for «»,ething I ..id to yo., thi. ,,ft.„oo. 
 -J. «. m^h^f then in „ali„, which I would ^' 
 
 fo*.™« toe leet ,^ in j^r chain. I h.pp.„rf j, 
 
 buy both my «v„W „d Miachin'. ftom Thawker 
 up the county fci. ,„ . ^^^ ^___ ^^^ 
 
 •hadowed by theee local hon.. » j . ^ 
 
 n.v „— ^^ ^^ ■' ""orwd to me Sir 
 
 my own amuw^m to put o»e of my pair ta a 
 
884 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE 
 
 thoroughly conspicaoiu place, and this aftemoon I 
 could not resist sending you to ihe room to add it to 
 your grand discoveries. You see, I could have proved 
 an alibi for the weapon, at all events, during my trip 
 to town a year ago. Yes, poor Minchin wrote to me, 
 and I went up to town by the next train to take him 
 by surprise. How you got to know of his letter I 
 cant conceive. But it carried no hint of blackmail. 
 I think you did wonders, and I hope you will forgive 
 me for that little trap; it really wasn't set for you. 
 It is also perfectly true that I stayed at the Cadogan 
 and was out at that particular time. I went there 
 because it was the one decent hotel I knew of in those 
 parts, which was probably your own reason, and I was 
 out reconnoitring my old friend's house because I 
 knew Lim for en inveterate late-bird, and he did not 
 write as thouj^ marriage had improved his habits. 
 In fact, as you know, he had gone to the dogs alto- 
 gether.' 
 
 This reminded Langholm of the hour. 
 
 *<It is late now,** said he, **and I must be ofF. 
 Poor Severino had not a relation in this country 
 that I know of. There will be a great deal to do 
 to-morrow." 
 
 Steel at once insisted on bearing all ezprases ; that 
 would be the lightest part, he said. ** You have done 
 so much!" he added. "By the way, you cant go 
 without saying good ni^t to my wife. She has still 
 to thank you." 
 
IN THE MATTER OP A MOTIVE m 
 
 " I ^«»*t want to be thanked " 
 ^- But f„ „„ th. ta.«. ,^ht »„., ^ ^ 
 
 "Lmgholm, 1 thought lart mmuw we ,™. ♦„ k. 
 mther fti«,d. ? I dont think that „f ""« *° •» 
 Miy I rtffl think it ,f youT- ""^ '"P"'- 
 
 ^I^X ;,"»"" ""' y- «<«d off the hUck. 
 
 ^^»^thL'i::t2"^™'-^--""« 
 l.^" .^r " • ". ■»"-' I •»« «. doubt r 
 
 t«*it to the pohce when you fidled him. It i, bo„ J 
 
 ■tKtt Ungholm, hke n«n, . better man, I left d 
 
 r'^.'^""'T'^''«^- Never mind tt 2.^' 
 the cunoua o*n hunt up the aue. «,d .iii l 
 
 leiTta^r^ to Werte.^ Aurt»,i. .n the J 
 ««■- ana yet you challenged me to ducover 
 
mm 
 
 886 THE SHADOW OP THE ROPE , 
 
 the truth I I still can^ undentand your attitode that 
 night!" 
 
 Steel stood siloit 
 
 « Some day I may explain it to yon,"* he said. ** I 
 am only now going to explain it to my wife.** 
 
 The men shook hands. 
 
 And Langholm rode on his bicycle off the scene of 
 the one real melodrama of a life spent in inventing 
 fictitious ones ; and if you ask what he had to show 
 for his part in it, yon may get your answer one day 
 (torn his work. Not from the masterpiece which he 
 used to talk over with Mrs. Steel, for it will never be 
 written ; not from any particular novel or story, mudi 
 less in the reproduction of any of these incidoits, wherein 
 he himsdf played so dubious a part; but perhaps you 
 will find your answer in a deqier knowledge of the 
 human heart, a stronger grasp of the realities of life, 
 a keener ^mpathy with men and (particularly) with 
 women, than formerly distinguished this writer^s books. 
 These, at all events, are some of the things whidi C3iarles 
 Langholm has to show, if he will only show them. 
 And in the meantime you are requested not to pity 
 him. 
 
 Steel went straight to his wife. Tears were still in 
 her eye but such tears, and such eyes ! It cost him 
 an effort to say what he had to say, and that was 
 unusual in his case. 
 
 ** Badiel," he said at length, in a t<me aa new as his 
 reluctance. ** I am going to answer the question whidi 
 
IN THE MAITOR OF A MOnVE Wf 
 jou have to oftaa aiked me ?.».-«• 
 
 AJUct « y.„ think b«t. Y«, kn., 4,^ w" 
 ««d«,gly fond of Afcc MindUn „ . y.„^ 'j^" 
 ■»-. I «. no^ often aeeedingi, fond of «Zdy" ' 
 yon m,y J^know by tU. Urn.. Befo« yonSl" 
 7 «»™«d that you h«i kiUri „/oid WmA 
 
 tow by the my fi„t twin .fter getting hi. leLT 
 ?"Jf "bW n« of the .nly*«^ i Jt 
 E»l^ .t the v«y moment when he n«dJJ 
 
 tot.^"."!'"" "^ "" ^^ ""■ --d it 
 
 to tfie bottom 1 That. I aav cuuiiA\« . 
 
 thought." ^ ^^*"^' ''•* '^^t I 
 
 -ii'^"^;t^irr.:f:?;:rt"-ti; 
 
 opmion." " n»wi been the unirerMl 
 
 «1 formed mine for mywlf, and I had , Dwhenlw. 
 ;^ for forming i," .^tinned S^ ^ f^^ 
 
 '*"••". » ■" "»»"y unemotiond voice. -I d«1 
 ir T^ *• '^ y« fi"t . . . Well, i, Jait^ 
 
 __^ mu, the rt«dy-.t «» ..d„d, fa u„ 
 B*id recoiled in her chair. 
 
5S8 THE SHADOW OF THE ROPE ' . 
 
 ''Hearens!^ she cried. "How can jou knot 
 that?" 
 
 **Did you hear nothing as you went upstair 
 again?" 
 
 " I dont remember.** 
 
 « Not a rattle at the letter-box ? " 
 
 ** Yes ! Yes ! Now I do remember. And it wa 
 actually you I ** 
 
 ** It was, indeed," said Steel, gravely. ** I saw yoi 
 come down, I saw you peep in — all dread and re 
 luctance ! I saw you recoil, I saw the face with whicl 
 you shut those doors and put out the lights. Am 
 afterwards I leamt from the medical evidmce tha 
 your husband must have been dead at that time ; on 
 thing I knew, and that was that he was not shot durinj 
 the next hour and more, for I waited about until half 
 past two in the hope that he would come out I wa 
 not going to ring and bring you down again, for I hai 
 seen your face, and I stiU saw your light upstairs." 
 
 **So you thought I had come down to see m; 
 handiwork ! " 
 
 **To see if he was really dead. Yet, I though 
 that afterwards. I could not help thinking it 
 Rachel" 
 
 **Did it never occur to you that I mi^t havi 
 thought he was asleep ?" 
 
 ** Yes, that has struck me since." 
 
 **You have not thought me guilty all along 
 then?* 
 
 ■L^-^ 
 
 If^^ 
 
IN THE MATTER OF A MOTIVE 880 
 
 **NofcaUaIoog.'' 
 
 "Did you right through my trial?'' 
 
 " God ftttgire me-yes. I did ! And there wa. one 
 thing that convinced me more than anything eke- 
 that was when you told the jury that the occasion of 
 your final parting upstairs wa^ he last time you saw 
 poor Alec alive." 
 
 "But it was," said Rachel. «I remember the 
 question. I did not know how to answer it I could 
 not teU them I had seen him dead but fancied him 
 only asleep ; that they would never have beKeved. So 
 I told the simple truth. Rut it upset me dread- 
 fully." 
 
 "ITiat I saw. You expected cross - examina- 
 tion." 
 
 "Yes; and I did not know whether to stick to the 
 truth or to lie ! " 
 
 " I can read people sometimes," Steel continued after 
 a pause. " I guessed your difficulty. Surely you must 
 •ee the only conceivable inference ?" 
 
 "I did see it" 
 
 "And, seeing, do you not foigive?" 
 
 "Yes, that Rut you married me while you still 
 thought me guUty. I forgive you for denying it at 
 tHe time. I suppose that was necessary. Rut you 
 have not yet told me why you did it" 
 
 « HonesUy, Rachel, it was largely fascination " 
 
 "Rut not primarily.' 
 
 "No." 
 
miP 
 
 ilO THE SHADOW OF THE ROFE 
 
 **Then let me hear the prime motive at last, tor 
 am tix«id of ttying to guen it !** 
 
 Steel stood before his wife as he had never stoc 
 beftm her yet, his white head bowed, his dark ey 
 lowered, hands dasped, shoulders bent, the sappliai 
 and the penitent in (me. 
 
 **l did it to punish you,** he said. "I thougt 
 some (me must— I felt I (xrald have hanged you if 
 had spoken out what I had seen— and I— mairied yo 
 instead!** i 
 
 His ^es were on the ground. When he ndsed thei 
 she was smiling through unshed tean. But she ha 
 spoken first 
 
 **It was not a veiy terrible motive, after all,** A 
 had said; "at least, it has not been such a ver 
 terrible — punishment ! ** 
 
 **No; but that was because I did the very las 
 thing I ever thought of d(»ing.** 
 *«And that was?** 
 
 <*To fidl m love with you at the beginning !" 
 Rachel gave a little start 
 <* Although you thought me guilty ?** 
 "That made no difference at alL But t hav( 
 thought it less and less, until, on the ni^^t yot 
 appealed first to me and then to Langholm— oi 
 thinkmg over that night— Jt was impossible to snpposi 
 it any more.** 
 
 Rachel rose, her (jieeks divinely red, her lip tremUing 
 ber hand outitretdied. 
 
IN THE BIATTER OF A MOTIVE Ml 
 
 ^^od know. I did, Bachel, ,„ „, own way," «id 
 "I am M glad !" whispered his wife; 
 
 THX KNB 
 
 R wnuAM aowM Am • 
 
 glu^ 
 
cffi/x^iw