CHAPTER XVI. THE UNEXPECTED HAPPENS.

As the full meaning of those words came upon him, Van Zwieten paled. His wicked eyes flashed fire, and he uttered an oath which, being in Dutch, was happily unintelligible to those around him. For the moment he could neither move nor speak; and seeing his momentary helplessness, Mr. Scarse, with Brenda on his arm, hurried on through the crowd.

Before the Dutchman could recover his presence of mind, there were already two or three lines of people between him and those whom he had fondly thought his victims. They had tricked him in spite of all his caution; even Scarse, whom he had been so sure of, had turned against him. But he would be revenged, and that speedily. Conjecturing that they would probably go to the railway station, Van Zwieten hurried thither. If he did not find them in the London train, then he would wait till he did. In any case he swore to get at the truth about this marriage. Their punishment should follow.

On his part, Mr. Scarse, seeing the devil which looked out of the Dutchman's eyes, knew that the man thus baffled was prepared to go to any lengths; and that being so, he was only too anxious to escape from so dangerous a neighborhood.

Taken up with her own sorrow, Brenda had paid no attention to the presence or foreboding glance of Van Zwieten, but submitted blindly to be guided through the crowd. All she longed for was to get to some quiet place where she could give way unrestrained to this grief that shook her whole being. And her father instinctively divined what she desired and said no word to comfort her, but hurried her on to the station, and by the judicious bestowal of half a sovereign secured a carriage to themselves. The man touched his hat, and after locking the door, walked off to see if any other person's sorrow would take such tangible and wholly excellent form.

There in the corner of the carriage Brenda lay back and wept for her lost husband, whom--it might be--she would never see again. But she had a great belief in dreams and in the contrariness of this particular dream and something told her he would come safe and sound out of the hurly-burly of battle. Nevertheless, life seemed very blank to her just then. She wept on unrestrained. Her father paid no attention to her. He was leaning out of the window watching for Van Zwieten. His mind travelled quite as quickly as that of the Dutchman, and he guessed that he would come on to the station on the chance of finding himself and Brenda in the London express.

The inspector came along, unlocked the door, and tried to hustle a couple of weeping women into the carriage but Mr. Scarse gave his name and whispered that he had engaged the carriage, whereupon the inspector promptly conducted the mourners to another compartment. In his hurry he did not lock the door, which, as it turned out, was unfortunate.

With great anxiety Mr. Scarse watched the minute hand of the station clock crawl round to the hour at which the train was timed to start. He turned hot and cold at the thought that Van Zwieten might come. He had a very shrewd idea of the Dutchman's present mood. But there was no sign of him. And the bell was ringing now for the departure of the express.

"Thank God!" cried Mr. Scarse, throwing himself back into his seat. "We have escaped that villain for the time being at any rate."

Vain congratulation! It was as if he had tempted the gods. Hardly had the train commenced to move when the door of the carriage was dashed open, and Van Zwieten hurled himself into the compartment like a charging buffalo. Brenda uttered a cry of alarm; her father swore--a thing he very seldom permitted himself to do; and the Dutchman, now quite master of his vile temper, smiled blandly and subsided into a seat. He cleared his throat to explain himself. Brenda cast on him one look of ineffable contempt, although she was far from feeling contemptuous, and did so merely out of bravado. Then she drew her veil down and glanced out of the window. If she was forced to travel with him, she was not forced to speak to him; and besides she felt quite safe having her father to protect her, and knowing how different now was his attitude toward the Dutchman. Van Zwieten smiled unpleasantly. He knew well how to rouse her out of that indifference, and he would do so when he judged the proper time had come. Meanwhile he explained himself to the enraged Scarse, whose blood was on fire at the creature's insolence.

"Notwithstanding the very elaborate pains at which you were to reserve this carriage, Scarse, I trust you are sufficiently hospitable not to mind my joining you," he said coolly.

"I mind very much, sir!" cried the other. "How dare you thrust your company where it is not wanted? My daughter and I can dispense with your presence."

"I dare say!" sneered the Dutchman, although he looked surprised at this unexpected resistance on the part of the hitherto meek M. P.; "but you see I have a great deal to say to you and Miss Scarse."

"Mrs. Burton, if you please," Brenda said in a cutting tone.

Van Zwieten bowed his fair head in a cruelly ironical manner. "I beg your pardon, I did not know I was a day after the fair. But it seems to me most strange that you should be married when your father promised me that I should be your husband."

"I did nothing of the sort," said Mr. Scarse, bluntly.

"I promised to consent to your marrying my daughter if she chose to have you. But as she had a very distinct preference for Captain Burton, I agreed to that. And I'm glad of it!" he cried with energy; "at least she has married an honorable man!"

"I also am an honorable man. I have kept your secret--up to the present----"

"My secret?" cried the other, contemptuously. "Oh! tell it to whom you please."

Van Zwieten bit his lip to prevent an exhibition of the surprise he felt at this unexpected defiance. "In that case I had better begin with Miss Sca--I beg your pardon--with Mrs. Burton. She would like to know----"

"She does know," interrupted Brenda, in her clear voice. "There is nothing left for you to tell, Meinherr van Zwieten!"

"Ach! You make me out to be Dutch, then! You are wrong--I am English."

"Quite so; until it suits you to become a Boer."

"We shall see. Oh, you will not have it all your own way in this war, you English. But enough of this," he went on imperiously. "You know, then, that your father and his twin brother killed Mr. Malet?"

"I know nothing of the sort," retorted Brenda, with spirit. "You had better take the case into court and prove your assertion."

"Think of the scandal!"

"I can face all that," cried Mr. Scarse, sharply. "If you think to blackmail me, Van Zwieten, you have come to the wrong person. So far as what I told you is concerned, you are harmless; you can do nothing."

"Perhaps not. I won't even try. But the arrows are not all out of my quiver yet. For you, old man, I care nothing, you cross not my path, so I can spare you; but as for Brenda----"

The girl turned fearlessly upon him. "I will thank you, sir, to address me by my proper name, which is Mrs. Burton!"

Van Zwieten winced. He felt his position intensely, though he put a brave face on it. Brenda saw this, and realized the strain he was putting on himself to keep down his temper.

"Mrs. Burton! Well, let it be so for the present--until you change it for Mrs. van Zwieten."

"That will be never!"

"Oh, yes--when you are a widow."

Brenda shuddered, and fell back on her cushions; but her father leaned forward and shook his fist at the Dutchman. "I am an old man," he said hoarsely, "and you are young and strong, but if you insult my daughter I will strike you! In any case, you will leave the carriage at the next station."

"It is yet a quarter of an hour away," sneered Van Zwieten, looking at his watch, "so that will be time enough to say what I have to say. I do not think you will ask me to go when you hear all?"

"I am not afraid," said Brenda, coolly, "my father is here to protect me. And we are in England, Meinherr van Zwieten, not in your barbarous country of the Transvaal."

"Ah, you English will find it sufficiently civilized in warfare," said the man, savagely. "But I will come to the point. You are married to this Captain Burton. Is that true, or is it not?"

"True? Of course it is true."

"Let me speak, father," put in Brenda. "Yes, it is true. We were married at St. Chad's Church, Brighton, four days ago."

"Just time for a honeymoon--a very short honeymoon," sneered Van Zwieten; but the perspiration was on his face, and the girl could see that he was suffering. She was glad to see it, and continued to speak, knowing that every word she uttered caused the villain intense pain. Callous as Van Zwieten was in most things, he was a true lover, and suffered only as a strong man like himself could suffer.

"If you like to go to the church you can see the register," she went on carelessly. "My father was present, so was Lady Jenny Malet." She looked him full in the face as she mentioned the name, but he did not flinch. Whatever power Lady Jenny might have over him, he was apparently ignorant of its existence.

"It is a pity you did not ask me," he said, clenching his hands. "I should have completed the happy family party. Well, Burton has escaped now. We shall see if he will be so fortunate in the future."

"Ah! you would murder him--I know it!" said Brenda, scornfully. "But he can take care of himself."

"Very likely, Mrs. Burton; but can he protect himself from the law?"

"What do you mean? That you are going to accuse my husband of Mr. Malet's murder? You are quite capable of it."

"I am; and I can prove that he is guilty."

Mr. Scarse cast an angry glance at the man. "You are a liar, Van Zwieten," he said savagely. "I wonder how I ever came to believe in you. You accuse first me of the crime, then my brother; now it is Harold Burton you would ruin. We are all three innocent."

"Two of you, we will say. But the third is guilty." Van Zwieten spoke slowly, looking at Brenda the while. "I found the pistol with which the murder was committed. It has a name on the butt. And the name is that of Harold Burton!"

The girl grew deathly pale and clasped her hands. "I do not believe it," she said bravely.

"Well," drawled Van Zwieten, throwing himself back, "I can prove it by showing you the pistol--it is at my rooms in Duke Street. If you choose to come there--with your father, of course--you can see it. Yes, you may look and look; but your husband and no other killed Malet."

"It is false. There was no reason why Harold should kill Mr. Malet."

"Oh, pardon me, I think he had a very good reason," corrected Van Zwieten, blandly; "at least Captain Burton thought it a sufficient reason when I told him what I knew at Chippingholt."

"Ah!" flashed out Mrs. Burton, "so this was what you told Harold to make him leave without saying good-bye to me!"

"It was. I showed him the pistol, and he admitted that it was his----"

"But not that he had used it!"

"You are very sharp, Mrs. Burton; but that is just what he did confess."

"I don't believe it!" cried the girl.

"Nor I," joined in Mr. Scarse. "You are speaking falsely."

Van Zwieten shrugged his mighty shoulders. "As you please," said he. "If I show it to the lawyers you may find that what I say is true. If it was not true how could I have made Harold Burton leave Chippingholt? Why did he keep his marriage with you a secret? Because he feared what I had to say about him. I had decided not to betray him if he left the lady to me. As it is, I shall speak."

"As you choose!" said Brenda. "You can prove no motive for such a crime. Harold left Chippingholt because you told him that Mr. Malet had gambled away his twenty thousand pounds, and the poor dear did not want to tell me of his loss."

"Oh, yes, I told him that also. I knew more of Malet's private affairs than you think. But Burton did not know the money was lost at the time he murdered Malet. He murdered him to get it."

"You speak very confidently," returned Brenda, ironically. "You will now of course put the matter into the hands of the police."

"Well, no; I shall not do that just now. However, as I see you do not believe me, I should like to give you an opportunity of changing your mind. Come with your father to my rooms in St. James's to-morrow and I will show you the revolver."

"I dare say you have the weapon," put in Mr. Scarse; "but how do we know where you found it?"

"I can prove that. Come to-morrow and convince yourselves. Then I will make my terms."

"Your terms?"

"Yes. My silence must be bought--but not with money. You, Mrs. Burton, must give me your promise to marry me when you become a widow."

"I am not a widow yet," said Brenda, trying hard to keep up her courage, "and, please God, I shall never be!"

"Amen!" sneered Van Zwieten, as the train slowed down, "we shall see. But I hold the winning card, and I intend to play it for my own benefit. Here we are, so I will leave you now. To-morrow at three I shall be at my rooms. If you do not come I will see the police about the matter."

"Very good," said Brenda, much to her father's surprise. "I will be there."

"Come now, you are sensible!" sneered Van Zwieten, "I shall make something out of you yet, Mrs. Burton."

"Get out!" shouted Mr. Scarse, fiercely, "or I'll throw you out!"

"Ah, bad temper, Scarse. Keep that for those who are fighting our Republics. Au revoir until to-morrow," and Van Zwieten, jumping lightly out of the compartment, made for a smoking-carriage.

"Why did you agree to meet the blackguard?" fumed Mr. Scarse when the train was moving off again. "You know he is lying!"

"No, I don't think he is."

"What? do you believe your husband guilty?"

"I wouldn't believe it if an angel from heaven told me so!" flashed out Mrs. Harold Burton. "But Van Zwieten has this revolver with Harold's name on it or he would not dare to speak so confidently. I will find out where he got it. He might have stolen it from Harold, or he might have had the name put on the silver plate. Harold is not here to contradict him. To-morrow we will take Wilfred with us. He will know if the revolver is Harold's or not. In the meantime I will see Lady Jenny. Harold told me to go to her if Mr. van Zwieten made himself disagreeable. The time seems to have come."

"But what can she do?"

"I don't know; but that is what I must find out. We will baffle this man yet. Oh, father, and to think that you once wanted me to marry him!"

"I was wrong, my dear, very wrong," Mr. Scarse said penitently; "but at any rate you are married now to the man of your choice."

"Harold, my darling!" Brenda's tears burst out afresh. "God knows if I shall ever see him again!" She wept bitterly. Truly, poor Brenda was hard beset.

Meantime Van Zwieten was swearing at his own stupidity in not having kept a sharper eye on Harold. But he had not expected the young man--whom he had regarded as his victim--to display such daring.

At Chippingholt he had warned him that if he married Brenda he would denounce him. Well, he had married Brenda, and was now well beyond reach on his way to Africa. More than ever was Van Zwieten determined that he should pay for what he had done. He had but exchanged the gallows in England for a Boer bullet in South Africa. Then, when he was no more, his widow should become Mrs. van Zwieten. That he swore should be. He had failed once, he would not fail again. From Waterloo he went to Westminster, to get the revolver and take it to his rooms, that he might have it ready for production on the morrow.

On arrival there he was met by Mrs. Hicks. She was in the greatest distress. "Oh, sir!" she cried, "a policeman's been here, and has taken a box from your room--an iron box!"

For the moment Van Zwieten stood stunned. Then he rushed upstairs and looked on the top of the press. The box was gone!