CHAPTER X MRS. LILLY'S STORY

The funeral was over, and Jarvis Alpenny was buried beside the wife whom--according to rumour--he had so cruelly neglected. The excitement about his mysterious death was apparently buried with him, and Hurstable again became a somnolent hamlet, devoid of news and intelligence. In spite of every effort, the police were unable to trace the man with the black patch. No one seemed to know anything about him, and he had vanished as completely as though the earth had swallowed him up. The local and London papers made their usual crass remarks about the inactivity and uselessness of the police, and, save in a rare paragraph, ceased to notice the matter. The murder was only a nine hours' wonder after all.

Lady Watson went away from the Rectory without calling upon Beatrice, as she had promised. Perhaps this was because she had unpleasant recollections of Convent Grange, or perhaps on account of a short conversation she had with Durban after Beatrice left The Camp. But whatever might be her reason, she did not again ask Miss Hedge to become her companion, nor did she call or even write. With her twenty thousand a year she returned to London, and left The Camp in charge of Durban, who still continued to inhabit his old quarters. Sometimes he came over to see Beatrice, and appeared to be more devoted than ever to the girl. But he said nothing about the various mysteries he had hinted at, nor did Beatrice inquire very closely what they might be. She saw very plainly that both Durban and Vivian were determined that she should know as little as possible--for what reason she could not imagine--and therefore, in pursuance of her determination, she cast about to find some path which might lead to a discovery of the truth, whatever that might be. She wished to learn who had killed Alpenny, and thought that, by examining into his past life, she might be able to learn something of his enemies. Once she discovered who disliked him, and the reason of such dislike, she fancied that she might lay her hand on the assassin. But there was no one to tell her of Alpenny's past, as both Durban and Vivian kept silent. But as, according to Mrs. Snow, the murderer of Colonel Hall was the assassin of Jarvis Alpenny, Beatrice determined to learn all she could about the earlier crime, in the hope that her discoveries in that direction might enable her to elucidate the mystery of the later murder.

Mrs. Lilly was the best person to apply to for a history of Colonel Hall's untimely fate, as she had been housekeeper to the Paslows for many, many years. Beatrice, during the first fortnight of her stay, hinted that she would like to hear about the tragedy, and Mrs. Lilly, after some hesitation, promised to tell her what she knew. Accordingly, Beatrice, two weeks after the burial of her stepfather, was seated in the Grange garden waiting for the housekeeper. Mrs. Lilly had first to attend to her work, but promised that as soon as it was ended she would come out and chat. As Dinah had gone over to the Rectory to see Mrs. Snow, Beatrice was quite alone. She did not count Vivian, as he scarcely stopped an entire day at the Grange, and very rarely a night. Some business took him constantly to London, but what it might be the girl could not guess. After that abrupt conversation in The Camp, the two said very little to one another. It was a strange wooing, and extremely unsatisfactory.

The garden of Convent Grange was delightful, as was the house, although both were somewhat dilapidated. The ancient red brick mansion had been--as Mrs. Snow had informed Beatrice--a convent in the reign of that arch-iconoclast, Henry VIII. When his greedy hand was laid upon ecclesiastical property, he had bestowed the convent on Amyas Paslow, who promptly turned out the nuns, to house himself and his family. But there was some curse on the place and on the race, for the family never prospered overmuch, and when the property came to Vivian Paslow, he was as poor as an English gentleman of long descent well can be. Nevertheless, he still clung to the old mansion, although he could have sold it at an advantageous price to an American millionaire. In some wonderful way he managed to scrape enough money together to pay the interest on the mortgage to Alpenny, and thus had kept a roof over his head and that of Dinah. Lately, as he had told Beatrice under the oak, he had inherited a small sum of money from an aunt, and thus things were easier with him. The girl fancied that it must be business connected with the paying-off of the mortgage that took him so often to London; but on this point he gave her no information.

The day was hot and drowsy, and Beatrice, clothed in black--for she paid her stepfather the compliment of wearing mourning--sat on an old stone seat, between two yew trees cut in the shape of peacocks. Before her, on a slight rise, rose the mellow brick walls of the Grange, covered with ivy. A terrace ran along the front of the house, and over the door was the mouldering escutcheon of the Paslow family. What with the queer pointed roofs, the twisted stacks of chimneys, the diamond-paned casements, and the prim gardens, the place looked particularly delightful. A poet could have dreamed away his days in this rustic paradise, and Beatrice felt as though she were in the land of the Lotos-eaters. But even as she slipped into vague dreams, she pulled herself up, and shunned the enchanted ground. There was sterner work to do than dreaming. Before she could become the mistress of this castle of indolence, and wife of its master, it was necessary to lift the cloud which rested on the place. To do so, she would have to begin by questioning Mrs. Lilly, and impatiently awaited the arrival of that worthy soul.

Towards noon Mrs. Lilly appeared on the terrace, and sailed down the broad garden-path between the lines of brilliant flowers. She was stout and comely, with white hair and a winter-apple face. A very honest, pleasant old woman was Mrs. Lilly, but behind the times. It was her boast that she had never been away from the Weald of Sussex for one solitary day out of a long length of years; and she had no patience--as she frequently stated--with the new-fangled notions of modern life (of which, it may be remarked incidentally, she knew no more than a child unborn!). Beatrice looked at the housekeeper's worn black silk dress, at her lace cap and voluminous apron, and acknowledged that Mrs. Lilly was a picturesque figure, who might have stepped out of the pages of a Christmas Number. The very model of a pompous, narrow-minded, honest, kindly old English servant.

"Well, my dear," said Mrs. Lilly, who looked on the three young people as children and addressed them accordingly, "I've got through my work. And a wonder it is, seeing that Polly and Molly"--these were the two servants--"are so lazy. But I have had the rooms brushed, and the dinner is ordered, and everything is in apple-pie order; so here I am ready for a rest." And she sat down beside Beatrice with a groan, remarking on the stiffness of her joints.

"You won't have much rest with me, Mrs. Lilly," laughed Beatrice, who, knowing the old lady well for some years, was quite familiar with her. "Have you got your knitting?" Mrs. Lilly was always knitting when off domestic duty. "Oh! here it is. Now make yourself comfortable, you dear old thing, and talk."

"What about?" asked Mrs. Lilly, mounting her spectacles, and beginning to click the needles.

"Colonel Hall's death."

"Oh! my dear," said the housekeeper with dismay; "do you really wish me to tell you about that horrid thing?"

"Of course; and you promised to do so."

"But wouldn't you rather hear about the ghost?" said Mrs. Lilly in coaxing tones; "that's an old family legend, and ever so much nicer."

"No. Colonel Hall's death, or nothing."

"Why do you wish to know?"

Beatrice evaded this question dexterously, not thinking it wise to admit Mrs. Lilly into her confidence too largely. "Oh! Mrs. Snow talked a lot about it at the inquest."

"I heard about that, my dear. Strange that your stepfather should have been murdered by a man with a black patch over his left eye!"

"You agree with Mrs. Snow, then?"

"That the same man committed the other murder?" queried Mrs. Lilly musingly. "I can hardly say that. Certainly a black patch, that could have been worn over an eye, was found on the grass under Colonel Hall's window the morning after his murder, but----"

"The man was not seen, then?" interrupted Beatrice.

"No. Only from the presence of the black patch, the detective who had charge of the case thought it had been worn for the purpose of disguise. There was a great stir about the matter, as Colonel Hall was well known as a Government official. He came from some West Indian island, I believe, where he was Administrator or something," ended Mrs. Lilly vaguely.

"Well, then, tell me all from the beginning. Mrs. Snow has very little to go on, if that is all about the black patch. I saw Mr. Alpenny's murderer wearing it, you know; but neither Mrs. Snow nor any one else saw Colonel Hall's assassin with it on."

Mrs. Lilly nodded. "I heard of your experience. My dear, you should not run about the woods at night: it isn't ladylike I wonder you didn't faint with horror when you saw the man!"

"I should have, had I known of this theory about Colonel Hall having been killed by such a man. As it was, I felt too worn-out to be startled by anything. Where ignorance is bliss. Go on, Mrs. Lilly; tell me all Mrs. Snow does not know."

"I think she knows a very great deal," remarked the housekeeper viciously. "I never could bear that lady--a sour, bad-tempered woman if ever there was one. She was a governess, you know. Yes; she and Mrs. Hall were at school together, and Mrs. Hall made her a kind of companion. After the murder, and when Mrs. Hall went back to the West Indies, Mrs. Snow--a Miss Duncan she was then--stopped on and married the rector, who was a fool. I am quite sure he has regretted ever since that he made her his wife."

"I don't like Mrs. Snow myself," said Beatrice thoughtfully. "And who is this Lady Watson who knew my mother?"

"I cannot tell you. I have never set eyes on her. Some school friend of Mrs. Snow's, I dare say. Mrs. Snow always said everybody had been to school with her. I believe she told lies," finished Mrs. Lilly with great contempt.

"Tell me about Mrs. Hall and the Colonel?"

"He was a tall, handsome man, very kind, and stately in his bearing, my dear. Mr. Paslow--the father of Master Vivian--knew him very well, and asked him to stop here."

"With Mrs. Hall?"

"Yes. But Mrs. Hall only came for one night, and that was the night of the murder. I don't think she got on well with her husband."

"What was she like to look at?"

"A small dark woman, very grave, and sparing of words. I think she had something on her mind. She seemed to be very much afraid of her husband, and rarely spoke to him. She came down with a one-year-old baby, and a nurse--a delicate-looking woman, far gone in consumption, poor soul."

"Just like my mother," said Beatrice; "she died of consumption, you know, Mrs. Lilly. At least Mr. Alpenny said so."

"I never saw your mother, my dear. Mr. Alpenny married a few weeks after the murder, and took Mrs. Hedge, as I understand she was called, to The Camp. She never came out, and no one ever saw her. When she was buried, everyone was quite amazed to hear that Mr. Alpenny had a wife--though, of course, it was hinted that he had married. He was deeply in love with Mrs. Hall, you know."

"Lady Watson says he was deeply in love with her."

"I don't believe the man was deeply in love with any one save himself," declared Mrs. Lilly sharply. "I detested him, and say so, even though he is dead and your father."

"My stepfather," corrected Miss Hedge. "I did not like him myself, Mrs. Lilly. He was a cruel man."

"He was, and had far too much influence with the old master. It was then that he got the mortgage on the Grange, which is such a trouble to Master Vivian. But perhaps Lady Watson will not be so hard to satisfy as Mr. Alpenny, and Master Vivian may be able to arrange, as he has inherited this little sum of money from his aunt. I wish he was clear of all these difficulties," ended Mrs. Lilly, with a sigh.

"Go on. You have not said a thing about the murder."

"I wonder Durban did not tell you about the matter. He was Colonel Hall's servant, you know."

Beatrice started to her feet, quite amazed by this intelligence. "Do you mean to say that Durban was Colonel Hall's servant?" she asked.

"Didn't you hear me say so?" said Mrs. Lilly tartly.

"Yes; but he never explained that to me."

"There was no need to. Besides, Durban doesn't like to speak of the murder of his master. He was the Colonel's servant, and came with him from the West Indies. Any one can see that Durban has black blood in him."

"It is all very strange," murmured the girl, sitting down again.

"Well, I thought so myself, as Durban never liked Mr. Alpenny. However, when the Colonel was buried, and Mrs. Hall went back to the West Indies with the baby, Durban stopped on, and when Mr. Alpenny married Mrs. Hedge, went to serve at The Camp."

"He has been a good friend to me," said Beatrice ponderingly. "I wonder why?"

"He was a good friend to your mother also, I heard. I asked Durban about your mother's marriage, and about your real father, Mr. Hedge, but he never would tell me anything."

"It is strange,--strange," mused Beatrice, quite perplexed over this tangled story. "And the murder?"

Mrs. Lilly wasted no more time, but plunged at once into the middle of the story, which Beatrice heard to the end without interrupting her more than was absolutely necessary. "Colonel Hall came down here to stop, as I said," resumed the old lady, "being a dear friend of my late master. Durban was with him, and Mr. Alpenny was in the house at the time. Later on, Mrs. Hall came down with the baby and the nurse, and with Mrs. Snow, who was then Miss Duncan; but that was not for a week. Colonel Hall had a necklace of diamonds that he had brought from the West Indies; it was valued at ten thousand pounds, and was called the Obi necklace, as there was some legend attached to it."

"Obi is African witchcraft," said Beatrice.

"Like enough," said Mrs. Lilly indifferently. "Colonel Hall had a lot to do with the black people. My master, Mr. Paslow, warned the Colonel that he might have the necklace stolen; but the Colonel laughed at him. It was in a green box which he kept beside his bed. The box contained official papers, and also the Obi necklace. I understand that Colonel Hall intended to give it to his wife; but as there was some difference between them, he did not give it to her. But when she came down, she asked him for it. He refused, and was sharp with her, so she went to bed in tears. Colonel Hall also retired at ten o'clock. The next morning he was found dead in his bed with his throat cut, and the Obi necklace was gone."

"What happened, then?" asked Beatrice, breathlessly.

"The police were called in. Mrs. Hall was in a fright, and grew so ill that she had to be taken up to town and put in some hospital. I know that she went from one fainting fit into another, and the doctor said that she would die unless she was taken out of the house. So she and the baby and the nurse were bundled off to town. Mrs. Snow--Miss Duncan, that is--stopped on with Durban. The police could find nothing."

"They found the black patch?"

"Yes; and there were rumours of a man wearing such a patch having been seen in the neighbourhood. Colonel Hall always slept with his window open, as he was mad on the subject of fresh air. His bedroom was on the first floor of the west wing, and the ivy offered a foothold to any one who wanted to climb up. As the black patch was found on the grass below the window, it was believed that the assassin climbed up the ivy and tried to steal the necklace. Colonel Hall must have awakened: but before he could give the alarm, he was stunned in some way."

"Just like Mr. Alpenny," murmured Beatrice.

"When he was stunned, the assassin cut the poor man's throat," continued Mrs. Lilly, shuddering. "Ugh! it was a sight. Then the murderer went off with the necklace. The police tried to trace him by that, but could not do so. I expect the necklace was broken up and the stones were sold separately."

"The assassin was never caught?"

"Never. And it is nearly five-and-twenty years ago, so I don't expect he ever will be caught."

"He may be, now that he has committed a second crime."

Mrs. Lilly laid down her knitting and removed her spectacles. "Do you believe it is the same man?"

"The crimes are so similar, that I believe it is," said the girl earnestly. "Colonel Hall was stunned, and then his throat was cut; Mr. Alpenny was treated in the same way. Colonel Hall was robbed of this necklace; Mr. Alpenny was robbed also. And yet," added Beatrice, looking at Mrs. Lilly, "I don't believe that in either case robbery was the motive for the crime."

"What other motive could there be?" asked Mrs. Lilly, amazed.

"Revenge of some sort, in both cases. Both the victims were stunned, and so the plunder could have been easily carried off safely. But in each case the assassin cut the throats of his victims. That looks like revenge."

Mrs. Lilly resumed her knitting and shook her head. "I can tell you nothing more," she said, after a pause. "Orchard might know a lot--I always thought that he did."

"Who is Orchard?"

"He was our butler at the time, and afterwards went to be a shepherd on the Downs yonder," and Mrs. Lilly nodded towards the high range of hills spreading fair and green in the sunlight.

Beatrice started. "Mrs. Snow said something about that," she observed, thoughtfully. "Why did the man become a shepherd? So odd!"

"It is odd--I always thought it was odd," said Mrs. Lilly; "but, you see, the sight of the body--Colonel Hall's body--gave poor Orchard a kind of fit, and the doctor said he would have to live in the open air. At all events he left the house, and when we next heard of him he was a shepherd on the Downs. He is well known, I believe, and is alive still. I have never seen him from that day to this, but I daresay if you went up yonder and inquired, you would see him. He may know something more than I do."

"I shall certainly see him," said Beatrice. "I want to learn all I can about this case."

Before Mrs. Lilly could reply, a shadow fell on the sward before them. They looked up to see a small, dirty, red-haired man leering at them in an affable way.

"Morning, lydies," said this creature; "I'm Waterloo!"