CHAPTER XIV
The popular fallacy which likens circumstantial evidence to a chainnaturally found no acceptance in the mind of Superintendent Merrington.If a link in a chain snaps, the captive springs free, but if he is boundby a rope it is necessary for all the strands to be severed beforeliberty can be regained.
Merrington remained at Heredith to weave additional strands for the ropeof circumstantial evidence by which Hazel Rath was held for the murderof Violet Heredith. It was a good strong case as it stood, butMerrington had seen too many strong ropes nibbled through by sharp legalteeth to leave anything to chance. If the circumstances against HazelRath remained open to an alternative explanation--if, for example, thedefence suggested that the mother was implicated in the crime and thedaughter was silent in order to shield her, it might be difficult toobtain a conviction. Merrington knew by wide experience how alternativetheories weakened the case of circumstantial evidence, no matter howstrong the presumption from the known facts appeared to be.
A useful strand in circumstantial evidence is motive, and it was motivethat Merrington sought to prove against Hazel Rath. His own inferenceabout the crime, swiftly and boldly reached shortly before he arrestedher, was that the girl was in love with Phil Heredith, and had murderedhis young wife through jealousy. Hazel's silence in the face ofaccusation supported that theory, in his opinion. She was ashamed toconfess, not the crime, but the hopeless love which had inspired it.Women were like that, Merrington reflected. A woman who dared to commitmurder would blush to admit, even to herself, that she had given herlove to a man who was out of her reach. But it is one thing to hold atheory, and another thing to prove it in the eyes of the law. As HazelRath was not likely to help the Crown establish motive by confessing herlove for Philip Heredith, it was left to Superintendent Merrington toestablish his theory, by all the independent facts and inferences he wasable to bring to light.
This proved more difficult than he anticipated. He had visualized thesituation with excellent insight up to a certain point, and he hadimagined that it would not be a difficult matter to obtain proofs of theexistence of an early flirtation or intrigue between Phil Heredith andthe pretty girl who had occupied an anomalous position in themoat-house. But a further examination of the inmates of the householdfailed to furnish any proofs in support of that supposition. Merringtoncould readily understand Miss Heredith and her brother denying such asuggestion; but the fact that none of the servants had seen anything ofthe kind was fairly convincing proof that no such relation existed.
No class have a keener instinct for scandal than the servants of acountry-house. They have opportunities of seeing hidden things whichnobody else is likely to suspect. And the moat-house servants asserted,with complete unanimity, that there had been nothing between PhilHeredith and Hazel Rath during the time the girl had lived at themoat-house. Their relations had been friendly, but nothing more. Therewas no record of secret looks, stolen kisses, or surprised meetings tosupport the theory of a mutual flirtation or furtive love. It wasimpossible to doubt that Phil Heredith's attitude to the girl who hadoccupied a dependent position in his home had been actuated by no warmerfeeling than a sort of brotherly regard.
Merrington, versed by long experience in forming an estimate ofcharacter from second-hand opinion, was forced to the conclusion thatPhil Heredith was not the type of young man to betray the innocence ortrifle with the feelings of a young and unsophisticated girl. Theservants' testimony revealed him as gentle and courteous, but shy andreserved, not fond of company, and immersed in his natural historypursuits.
Merrington, however, had less difficulty in proving to his ownsatisfaction that Hazel Rath had been secretly in love with PhilHeredith almost since the days of her childhood. There was, to beginwith, the greenstone brooch which Caldew had picked tap in the bedroomafter Mrs. Heredith had been murdered. The members of the household werein the custom of making the girl little presents on her birthdayanniversary, and Phil had given her the piece of greenstone, set in abrooch, on her birthday six years before. There was no secret about it;the gift had been chosen on the suggestion of Miss Heredith, who toldMerrington the facts. What was unknown was the addition of theinscription, "Semper Fidelis," which must have been scratched on thebrooch subsequently by the girl herself as a girlish vow of love andfidelity of the giver.
Detective Caldew might have ascertained these facts and shortened thepolice investigations by the simple process of asking Miss Heredithabout the brooch in the first instance. But it is easy to be wise afterthe event, and Superintendent Merrington was the last man to quarrelwith his subordinate for excess of caution in the initial stage of theinvestigations, when it was his duty to doubt everybody and confide innobody. Moreover, Merrington could not forget that he himself hadcompletely underestimated the importance of that clue when Caldew haddrawn his attention to it.
A search of Hazel's bedroom at Stading brought to light additionaltestimony of the love which was likely to destroy her. Merrington andCaldew, ruthlessly turning over the feminine appointments of this daintylittle nest, had unearthed from the bottom of the girl's box a squareparcel tied with ribbon. The packet contained letters and postcards fromPhil, principally picture postcards from different Continental places hehad visited after leaving Cambridge. There were three letters: twoschoolboy epistles, asking the girl to look after the pets he had leftat home, and one short note from the University announcing the dispatchof a volume of poems as a birthday gift. There was also a Christmascard, dated some years before, inscribed, "To dear Phil, with love, fromHazel." The girl had kept it, perhaps, because she was too shy to bestowit on the intended recipient, but its chief value in Merrington's eyeswas the similarity between the written capital F and the same letter inthe scratched inscription on the greenstone brooch.
With these discoveries Merrington was satisfied. In Hazel Rath's secretlove for Phil Heredith the Crown was supplied with the motive for themurder of Phil Heredith's wife. In Merrington's opinion, the suppositionof motive was strengthened by the fact that the murder was committedduring Hazel's first visit to the moat-house since the arrival of theyoung bride, because until Phil's marriage it had been the girl's customto visit the moat-house once a week. Miss Heredith informed Merringtonthat she had questioned the girl on the afternoon of the murder aboutthe sudden cessation of her visits, and Hazel had replied ratherevasively. Merrington formed the opinion that she had stayed awaybecause she could not bear to see the woman whom Phil had made his wife.Then, realizing that her prolonged absence was likely to be remarkedupon, she went across on the day of the murder to see her mother.Merrington did not think that the murder was premeditated. His beliefwas that when the girl found herself back in the surroundings where shehad spent such a happy girlhood in association with Phil Heredith, shewas seized with a mad fit of jealousy against her successful rival, andunder its influence had rushed upstairs and murdered her. Merrington hadalso come to the conclusion that her mother knew nothing about the crimeuntil afterwards, and then she had endeavoured to shield her daughter bylying to the police and sending Milly Saker out of the way.
Merrington was unable to account for Hazel's possession of the revolverwith which Mrs. Heredith had been killed. The girl maintained herstubborn silence after her arrest, and refused to answer any questionsabout the weapon or anything connected with the crime. The policeassumption was that she had obtained the revolver from the gun-room ofthe moat-house shortly before the murder was committed. The gun-room wasunderground. It had originally been the crypt of the Saxon castle whichhad once stood on the site where the moat-house was built, and wasentered by a short flight of steps not far from the passage which led tothe housekeeper's rooms. It was rectangular in shape, and, like themajority of gun-rooms in old English country mansions, contained a largeassortment of ancient and modern weapons.
Neither Sir Philip Heredith nor Miss Heredith was able to state whetherthe revolver found in the housekeeper's room belonged to the moat-houseor was the property of one of the guests
, and Phil Heredith was too illto be asked. As expert evidence at the inquest definitely determinedthat the bullet extracted from the murdered woman had been fired fromthe revolver, Merrington did not attach very much importance to thequestion of ownership, but before his departure for London he arrangedthat Caldew should return to the moat-house later with the revolver forPhil's inspection, in the hope of settling the point before the trial.
Miss Heredith had undertaken to let the detectives know when her nephewwas well enough to be seen, but as time went on she doubted whether hewould ever recover. Although the delirium which had followed his seizurehad passed away, he was slow in regaining health, and remained in bed,listless and indifferent to everything, sometimes reading a little, butoftener lying still, staring at the wall. He was passive and quiet, andobedient as a child. He seemed to have no recollection of the events ofthe night of the murder, and his aunt did not dare to recall them to hismind.
It was for Phil's sake, and for him only, that she was able to preserveher own courage and calmness through the sordid ordeal of the lengthyinquest and the empty pomp of the funeral of the young wife. Her ownheart was bruised and numb within her with the horrors which had beenheaped upon her. She was like one who had seen a pit open suddenly ather feet, revealing terrible human obscenities and abominationswallowing nakedly in the depths. It was a poignant shock to her thathuman nature was capable of such infamy. Her startled virgin eyes sawfor the first time in the monstrous passion of sex a force which wasstronger than her own most cherished beliefs. If a sweet and gentle girllike Hazel Rath, who had been brought up under her own eye to walkuprightly, could be swept away in the surge of tempestuous passion tocommit murder, where did Faith and Religion stand?
Almost as much as the effect of the murder did she fear the result ofthis second revelation on her nephew. The knowledge that the personaccused of killing his wife was a girl who had lived in his own home foryears was bound to have an additionally injurious effect on his strangeand sensitive temperament. Nobody knew that temperament better than MissHeredith. It was not the Heredith temperament. It had been the heritageof his mother, a strange, elfin, wayward creature, who had died bringingPhil into the world. Like all sisters, Miss Heredith had wondered whather brother had seen in his wife to marry her. Phil had all along been adisappointment to his father. He had come into the world with a lamefoot and a frail frame, and the Herediths had always been noted formasculine strength and grace. Instead of growing up with a scorn forbooks and an absorbing love of sport, like a true Heredith, Phil hadearly revealed symptoms of a bookish, studious disposition, reserved andshy, with little liking for other boys or boyish games. His one hobbywas an interest in natural history. He devoted his pocket money to thepurchase of strange pets, which he kept in cages while they lived andstuffed when they died.
Miss Heredith had disapproved of this hobby, but had suffered it insilence, on the principle that a Heredith could do no wrong, until onewinter's morning she had been frightened into her first and only fit ofhysterics by discovering a large spotted snake coiled snugly on someflannel garments she was making for the wife of the curate, inanticipation of that unfortunate lady's fifth lying-in. Investigationbrought to light the fact that the snake had been surreptitiouslypurchased by Master Phil from a Covent Garden dealer. He had kept it ina box in the stables, but, finding it torpid with cold one night, he hadput it in his aunt's work-basket for the sake of the warmth. When MissHeredith recovered from her hysterics she had seen to it that Phil waspacked off to school almost as quickly as the snake was packed off tothe Zoological Gardens.
After Phil's college days his father's influence had obtained for him aGovernment post which was to be the forerunnner of a diplomatic career,if Phil cared for it. That was before the war, which upset so manyplans. In his capacity of assistant departmental secretary, Phil hadnothing particular to do, and an ample allowance from his father tospend in his leisure time. Many young men in these circumstances--thrownon their own resources in London with plenty of money to spend--wouldhave lost no time in "going wrong," but Phil's temperament preserved himfrom those temptations which so many young well-born men findirresistible. He had a disdain for the stage, he did not care for chorusgirls, he disliked horse-racing, and he did not drink.
He sought distractions in another way, and rumours of those distractionsfiltered in due course down to his family home in Sussex. It waswhispered that Phil was "queer"--that his old passion for pettingreptiles and lower animal forms had merely been diverted into anotherchannel. He had become a Socialist, and had been seen consorting withthe lower orders at East End meetings with other people sufficientlyrespectable to have known better. It was even stated that he hadsupported an Irish revolutionary countess (who had discovered the firstSocialist in Jesus Christ, and wanted to disestablish the Church ofEngland) by "taking the chair" for her when she announced these tenetsto the rabble in Hyde Park one fine Sunday afternoon. A Heredith asocialist and nonconformist! These were bitter blows to Miss Heredith, awoman soaked in family and Church tradition, but she bore the shock withuncompromising front, and was able to make the shortcomings of Phil'smother a vicarious sacrifice for the misdeeds of the son.
But the bitterest blow to Miss Heredith's family pride was the news ofPhil's marriage. Till then she had pinned her faith, like a wise woman,in the reformative influence of a good marriage. Although a spinsterherself, she was aware that there was no better method of reducing theshowy nettlesome paces of youth to the sober jog-trot of middle-age thanthe restraining influence of the right kind of yokefellow. The qualitiesPhil most needed in a wife were those possessed by a sober-minded,unimaginative, placid girl of conventional mould. Such maidens are notunknown in rural England, and Miss Heredith had not much difficulty inpicking upon one in the county sufficiently well-born to mate with theHerediths. Miss Heredith perfected her plan in detail, and had even goneto the length of drafting the letter which was to bring Phil down fromLondon to be matrimonially snared, when the news came that he had snaredhimself in London without his aunt's assistance.
She did not like his wife from the first, and it was equally certainthat Phil's wife did not like her. It was a marvellous thing to MissHeredith that a shallow worldly girl like Violet should have capturedthe heart of a young man like her nephew so completely as to cause himto alter his ways of life for her. Phil loved Nature, and books, andsolitary ways; his wife detested such things. Phil, in his eagerness toplease her, and banish her apparent boredom with country life, hadsuggested asking some people from London with whom, at one time, hewould have had very little in common. Perhaps his London life hadchanged him, but if so, it was a change for the worse for a young man,and a Heredith, to be so much under the thumb of his wife as to give uphis own habits of life at her behest. But Phil was so much in love thathe had done so, cheerfully and willingly. Violet's lightest wish was hislaw.
These thoughts, and others like them, passed and repassed through MissHeredith's mind as she sat, day after day, in her nephew's sick room. Itwas her custom to take her needlework there of an afternoon, and relievethe nurse for two or three hours. But her sewing frequently lay idle inher lap, and she leaned back in her chair, absorbed in thought, glancingfrom time to time at Phil's worn face on the pillow, where he lay likeone exhausted and weary, reluctant to return to the turmoil of life. Hetook his food and medicine with the docility of a child, andoccasionally smiled at his aunt when she ministered to him. Gradually hemended and increased in bodily strength until he was able to sit up, andsmoke an occasional cigarette. Sometimes he talked a little with hisaunt, but always on indifferent subjects. He never asked about his wife,or spoke of the murder, as he had done in his delirium. It was apparentto those about him that his recollection of the events which had broughtabout his illness had not yet returned. Nature had, for the time being,soothed his stricken brain with temporary oblivion.
Then one day the change that Miss Heredith anticipated and feared cameon him as swiftly as a dream. She entered the room to fin
d him up anddressed, walking up and down with a quick and hurried stride. One glancefrom his quick dark eyes conveyed to her that his wandering senses hadrecrossed the border-line of consciousness, and entered into the horrorand agony of remembrance.
"Phil, dear," she said, hastening to his side, "is this wise?"
"How long have I been lying here?" he demanded impatiently, as though hehad not heard her speak.
"It is ten days since you were taken ill," she replied, in a low voice.
"Ten days!" he repeated in a stupefied tone, as though unable to realizethe import of the lapse of time. "It is incredible! It seems to me asthough it was only a few hours. What has happened? What has been done bythe police? Has the murderer been arrested?"
It came to Miss Heredith with a shock that his dormant brain hadawakened to leap back to the thing which had paralysed it, and with thatknowledge came the realization that the dreaded moment for therevelation she had to make had arrived. And, like a woman, she sought topostpone it.
"Phil," she said weakly, "do not talk about it--until you are stronger."
"I am strong enough not to be treated as a child," he rejoinedfretfully, turning on her a sallow face, with a bright spot in eachcheek. "Is the funeral over?"
"Some days ago," she murmured, and there was a thankful feeling in herheart that it was so.
Before he had time to speak again there was a tap at the door, and amaidservant entered.
"Mr. Musard would like to speak to you for a moment, ma'am," she said toMiss Heredith.
Miss Heredith caught eagerly at the respite.
"Tell him I will come at once. Phil," she added, turning to her nephew,"I will send Vincent to you. He can tell you better than I. He has beenhere all through your illness, and has looked after everything."
She hurried from the room without waiting for his reply. She saw thetall form of Musard standing in the hall, and went rapidly to him.
"Phil has come to his senses, Vincent," she exclaimed, in an agitatedvoice. "He wants to know everything that has happened since he was takenill. What shall we do?"
"He must be told, of course," replied Musard, with masculine decision."It is better that he should know than be kept in suspense. How is he?"
"He seems quite normal and rational. Will you see him and tell him?"
"Yes. As a matter of fact it is advisable that he should know everythingwithout delay. I sent for you to tell you that Detective Caldew has justarrived to ascertain if Phil can identify the revolver. I told him Philwas still ill, but he is persistent, and thinks that he ought to beallowed to see him. It would be better if Phil could see him, and settlethe point."
"Oh, Vincent, do you think it is wise?"
"Yes. Phil has had a shock, but it is not going to kill him, and thesooner he takes up his ordinary life again the better it will be forhim. Come, now, everything will be all right." He smiled at her anxiousface reassuringly. "Leave it to me. I will see that nothing is done toagitate Phil if I do not think him strong enough to bear it. Now, let usgo to him."
The bedroom door was open and Phil was standing near it as thoughawaiting their appearance. He held out his hand to Musard, who wassurprised by the strength of his grip. He eyed the young man critically,and thought he looked fairly well considering the ordeal he had passedthrough.
"I am glad to see you better, Phil," he said. "How do you feel? Not veryfit yet?"
"I am all right," responded Phil quickly. "Now, Musard, I want you totell me all that has happened since I have been lying here. I amcompletely in the dark. Has anybody been arrested for the murder of mywife?"
He spoke in a dry impersonal tone as though of some occurrence in whichhe had but a remote interest, but Musard was too keen a judge of men tobe deceived by his apparent calmness. He thought that it was better forhim to learn the truth at once.
"Yes, Phil," he said quietly, "there has been an arrest. Hazel Rath hasbeen arrested for the murder of Violet."
"Who?" The tone of detachment disappeared. The interrogation was flungat Musard's head with a world of incredulity and amazement.
"Hazel Rath, the housekeeper's daughter."
"In the name of God, why?"
"Gently, laddie. Sit down, and take it quietly. I'll tell you all."
Phil controlled himself with a painful effort, and took a chair near thebedside.
"Go on," he said hoarsely.
Musard seated himself on the edge of the bed at his side, and enteredupon a narration of the circumstances which had led to the arrest ofHazel Rath. Phil listened attentively, but the expression of amazementnever left his face. When Musard finished he was silent for a moment,and then impetuously broke out:
"I feel sure Hazel Rath did not commit this crime."
Musard was silent. That was a question upon which he did not feel calledupon to advance an opinion. Miss Heredith was too moved to speak.
"Why do you not say something?" exclaimed Phil, turning on her angrily."Surely you do not think Hazel guilty?"
"Oh, Phil," responded his aunt piteously, "it seems hard to believe, butwhat else can we think? There was the revolver and the handkerchieffound in her mother's room, and the little greenstone brooch you gaveher was picked up in Violet's bedroom."
"Why do they think she has killed her? Tell me that!"
Musard, in his narration of the facts, had omitted mention of thesupposed motive, but he now made a gesture to Miss Heredith to indicatethat she had better tell Phil.
"It was because the police believe that Hazel was--was in love with you,Phil," she falteringly said. "They think she murdered Violet in a fit ofjealousy."
"Hazel in love with me?" He echoed the phrase in mingled scorn andamazement. "That is preposterous. If the police have nothing better thanthat to go on--"
"They have," interrupted Musard. "They are going on the clues I havementioned--the brooch, the handkerchief, and the revolver."
"Where did Hazel get the revolver?"
"It is thought she got it from the gun-room."
"There are no revolvers in the gun-room," rejoined Phil quickly. "Wehave no revolvers, unless father bought one recently. What make is it?"
"The ownership of the revolver is a point the police have not yet beenable to settle," returned Musard. "It is only an assumption on theirpart that Hazel got it from the gun-room. They thought it eitherbelonged to the house or was left behind by one of the guests. Neitheryour aunt nor I knew, and Sir Philip was unable to settle the point. Thepolice thought you might know. As a matter of fact, one of thedetectives engaged in the investigations has just arrived from Londonand brought the revolver with him to see if you can identify it."
"I should like to see him. Where is he?"
"In the library. I will bring him in."
Musard left the room and quickly returned with Caldew, who entered witha business-like air.
"This is Mr. Heredith," said Musard.
"I trust you are better, Mr. Heredith," said the detective smoothly. "Iam sorry to trouble you so soon after your illness, but there is a pointwe would like to settle before the trial of the woman who is chargedwith murdering your wife. We want, if possible, to establish theownership of the weapon with which the murder was committed." Heproduced a revolver from the pocket of his light overcoat as he spoke."In view of the evidence, the identification of the weapon does notmatter much one way or another, but it is as well to fix the point, ifwe can. The girl refuses to say where she obtained the revolver--indeed,she remains stubbornly silent about the crime, and refuses to sayanything about it. That doesn't matter very much either, because theevidence against her is so strong that she is bound to be convicted. Canyou tell me anything about the revolver, Mr. Heredith? Do you recognizeit?"
Phil was turning the revolver over in his hands, examining it closely.
"Yes," he said. "I recognize it. It belongs to Captain Nepcote."
"Captain Nepcote? Who is he?"
"He is a friend of my nephew's who was staying here, but left theafternoon of th
e day the murder was committed," said Miss Heredith. "Hewas recalled to the front, I understand. I gave his name toSuperintendent Merrington as one of the guests who had been stayinghere."
"How do you identify the revolver as his property?" asked Caldew,turning to Phil.
"By the bullet mark in the handle. The day before my wife was killed itwas raining, and some of the guests were down in the gun-room shootingat a target with Nepcote's revolver. He showed us this mark in thehandle, and said that it had saved his life in France. He was leadinghis men in a night raid on the German lines, and a German officer firedat him at close range, but the bullet glanced off the handle of therevolver."
"Then there can be no doubt Hazel Rath got it from the gun-room," saidCaldew, returning the weapon to his pocket. "Captain Nepcote must haveleft it behind him there, and that is where Hazel Rath found it."
"No, no! That seems impossible," said Phil.
"Well, I think it is quite possible," replied Caldew.
"Is it your opinion, then, that Miss Rath is guilty?" demanded Phil,with a note of sharp anger in his voice.
"Phil!" said Miss Heredith. "You must not excite yourself."
But the young man took no notice of his aunt's gentle remonstrance. Hiseyes were fixed on the detective.
"I have not the least doubt of it," was the detective's cold response.
"I must say I think you have made a terrible mistake," Phil said,striding about the room in a state of great agitation. "Hazel wouldnot--she could not--have done this thing." He wheeled sharply around, asthough struck by a sudden thought. "Are the jewels safe?" he added.
"Yes," said Miss Heredith. "We found Violet's jewel-case locked, so Iput it away in the library safe."
"The question of robbery does not enter into the crime," remarkedCaldew. "The motive, as we have established it, is quite different."
"I have been told of the motive you allege against this unhappy girl,"said Phil indignantly. "That idea is utterly preposterous. Again, I say,I believe that you have made a blunder. I do not think Hazel wouldhandle a revolver. She was always very nervous of fire-arms."
"That is quite true," murmured Miss Heredith.
"A jealous woman forgets her fears," said the detective rathermaliciously. "She didn't stop to think of that when she wanted to usethe revolver."
"And where did she get it from?" asked Phil quickly.
Caldew shrugged his shoulders, but remained silent.
"You still persist in thinking that she obtained the revolver from thegun-room?" Phil continued.
"Yes, I do."
"Do you not intend to make any further inquiries? You had better seeNepcote about the revolver. I will give you his address."
"Captain Nepcote left here to go to the front, and we have not heardfrom him since," Miss Heredith explained to the detective.
In a calmer moment Caldew might have realized the expediency of Phil'ssuggestion, but his professional dignity was affronted at what heconsidered the young man's attempt to interfere in the case and directthe course of the police investigations. It was the desire to snub whathe regarded as a meddlesome interposition in his own business whichprompted him to reply:
"It is a matter of small importance, one way or the other. It issufficient for the Crown case to know the owner of the revolver. Thepoint is that the murder was committed with it, and it was subsequentlyfound in the girl's possession."
"I have nothing more to say to you," said Phil.
"Are you convinced now, Phil?" asked Miss Heredith sadly, when Caldewhad taken his departure. "It was hard for me to believe at first, buteverything seems so certain."
"I am not at all convinced," was the stern reply. "On the contrary, Ifeel sure that some terrible mistake has been made. I would stake mylife on the innocence of Hazel Rath. How can you, who have known her solong, believe she would do a deed like this? The detective who has justleft us is obviously a fool, and I am not satisfied that all the factsabout Violet's death have been brought to light. I am going to London atonce to bring another detective to inquire into the case. You know moreabout these things than me, Musard--can you tell me of a good man?"
"If you are determined to bring in another detective, you cannot dobetter than get Colwyn," replied Musard.
"Colwyn--the famous private detective? He is the very man I should like.Where is he to be found?"
"He has rooms somewhere near Ludgate Circus. I will write down theaddress. I think he will come, if he is not otherwise engaged."
"Why should he refuse?" demanded Phil haughtily. "I will pay him well."
"It is not a question of money with a man like Colwyn, and I advise younot to use that tone with him if you want his help."
"Very well," said Phil, pocketing the address Musard had written down."I will catch the 6.30 evening train up. Aunt, you might tell them togive me something to eat in the small breakfast-room. I do not want tobe bothered getting dinner in town."
"Phil, dear, you mustn't dream of going to London in your present stateof health," expostulated Miss Heredith tearfully. "Why not leave ituntil you are stronger? Vincent, try and persuade him not to go."
"Phil is the best judge of his own actions in a matter like this,"replied Musard gravely.
"At least let Vincent go with you, Phil," urged his aunt.
"I want nobody to accompany me," replied Phil, speaking in a tone he hadnever used to his aunt before. "I will go and get ready. Tell Linton tohave the small car ready to drive me to the station."