He and John drove to Highnoons, to take up Nicky, and discovered this young gentleman to be almost completely restored to health, his spirits only damped by the thought of what lay before him. He smiled gratefully at John, and said it was devilish good of him to have come down from London.
‘Well, of course I have come!’ John said severely. ‘If that is a sling you have hanging round your neck, put your arm in it, and see you keep it there!’
‘Oh, the wound scarcely troubles me at all! I don’t need the sling, and only wear it to please Becky!’ said Nicky, who had lost no time in getting upon terms with Miss Beccles.
‘Very likely, but it will present a good appearance. I know these Sussex juries!’
‘Yes, but I did not get hurt in that fight with Eustace!’ objected Nicky.
‘No need to say so unless you are asked, and then you will say you were wounded in repelling housebreakers,’ said his cynical brother. ‘Either way will serve as well.’
He turned to shake Elinor warmly by the hand, and to make his bow to Miss Beccles. Carlyon addressed some observation to Elinor; she replied to it; and then, waiting in vain for any comment on her gray gown, with its black ribbons and lace, rallied him with: ‘Well! You perceive, I trust, that I am gone into half-mourning at least! I expect to be heartily commended!’
‘You look charmingly, ma’am,’ he replied.
She was put out of countenance. ‘Oh, no, no, no! I was not asking to be complimented on my looks, but upon my docility!’
There was an amused expression in his eyes; he answered, however, with perfect gravity: ‘You forget that I have three sisters. I trust I have learnt from them to avoid making such remarks as must be reckoned tactless in the extreme.’
She laughed out at that. ‘Well! It is very hard if I am not to be praised for showing myself so biddable! I received my Lord Bedlington yesterday in the most sombre black imaginable. He has been with you, I think: has he told you of his intention to stay at Highnoons for the funeral?’
‘Yes, and I am aware that you have cause for complaint. Believe me, I did not intend you to undergo such hardship when I begged you to take up your residence here.’
‘No! It quite spoils the tranquillity of my sojourn here!’ she countered. ‘When all has been so agreeable until now!’
He smiled, but only said: ‘I trust your rest was undisturbed last night?’
‘No such thing! Your brother’s odious dog scratched so vigorously at my door that I was obliged to get up out of my bed to let him in!’
‘He must have taken a marked fancy to you, ma’am,’ he said politely.
‘He had a marked fancy for the ham-bone he had laid under my bed!’ she retorted.
He laughed. ‘Well, that is a great deal too bad, certainly, but never mind! I am relieving you of both him and my graceless brother.’
‘Oh, no!’ she exclaimed quickly. ‘No, pray, do not, sir! He is an excellent watch-dog, and gives me the greatest feeling of security! Only fancy! He would not allow the baker to come within fifty yards of the house!’
‘What’s that?’ Nicky demanded. ‘You will not make me go back to the Hall yet, Ned! I am set on searching for that precious document, whatever it may be. Besides, Cousin Elinor will not like to be left without Bouncer, and you know he will never stay if I go.’
Both Elinor and Miss Beccles added their earnest entreaties to his, and it was finally agreed that Nicky should return to Highnoons after the inquest. He naïvely informed his brother that he had found an attic stuffed with old lumber, and meant to have a rare time poking about amongst the entrancing relics he had discovered there. ‘You can have no notion, Ned! There is an old pistol, I dare say as old as Queen Anne, and a couple of rapiers all rusted over, and I do not know what more besides!’
‘Famous!’ said John sardonically. ‘The very place where you would expect to find a state paper!’
‘Well, as to that, there’s no saying where it might be, after all,’ argued Nicky. ‘But only think, John! Do you remember that first-rate kite Eustace had, and would never let Harry fly? I found it there, under a heap of rubbish, and recognized it on the instant!’
‘No!’ John exclaimed, much struck. ‘Why, it must be years old! I wonder you should remember it!’
‘Oh, yes! It had red stripes! I could not forget!’
‘Yes, that’s true. And a long tail, which Harry snipped off when Eustace was so mean-spirited as to refuse to let him fly the thing! Well, upon my word!’
It began to seem as though rummaging amongst half-forgotten playthings, instead of attending an inquest, was to be the order of the day, but the two brothers were recalled to a sense of the occasion by Carlyon, and rather regretfully followed him out to the carriage. Miss Beccles softened the rebuke by suggesting that they should fly the kite later.
‘By Jove, yes! Do let us, John!’ Nicky exclaimed.
‘Nonsense!’ said John. ‘Kites, indeed! I wonder if it is as good as ever?’
The carriage drove away with them, and the two ladies returned to their interrupted task of dragging all the books from their shelves in the library, clapping them together, dusting the covers, and restoring them to their places. It was exhausting work, and the clouds of dust that thickened the air, and made the ladies sneeze, seemed to indicate that Eustace Cheviot had not been of a bookish turn of mind. Such extraneous matter as floated to the floor when the books were clapped plainly had been placed between the leaves by feminine hands. Several dried flowers were discovered, an old laundry-list, and a recipe for making eel broth, which Miss Beccles thought would be a sustaining diet for an invalid. But of state secrets there was no trace, and although Miss Beccles derived great satisfaction from knowing that no dust, cobwebs, or spiders any longer lurked on the shelves, Elinor could not but feel that she had been wasting her time.
They were just sitting down to a nuncheon of cold meat, fruit, and tea, when the Carlyon carriage once more pulled up at the front door, and the three brothers alighted. Elinor ran out at once to enquire whether all were well, and was met by Nicky, who called cheerfully: ‘They have not put me in irons, Cousin Elinor! The Crowner was a great gun! I had not thought it had all been so simple! To tell you the truth, I did not above half like the notion of having to give my evidence, but no one could have been more civil! I was soon feeling at home to a peg. And Hitchin spoke in bang-up style! It was brought in Accidental Death, and only fancy! half of the people who had crowded in to listen to the case set up a cheer! I can tell you I was glad to be able to jump up into the carriage, and get away!’
‘Oh, I am so heartily thankful!’ Elinor cried. ‘It must have been so, of course, but one could not help being a little anxious.’
She put out her hand impulsively to Carlyon, as she spoke, and he shook it, saying: ‘Thank you. It is happily over, and did indeed go without the least rub.’ He added, a smile in his eyes: ‘Judging from the demeanour of the spectators, it would have gone hard with the jury had they brought in another verdict! I was obliged to hustle Nicky away, for what must some of the villagers do but try to shake him by the hand, as though he had been a public benefactor!’
‘Well, it was improper, but one cannot wonder at it,’ said John. ‘Cheviot left no stone unturned to render himself odious in these parts.’
She led them into the dining-parlour, and pressed them to partake of some cold meat. Nicky exclaimed: ‘What, mawdling your insides with tea again! No, I thank you!’
‘Yes, indeed, it is very wrong to be drinking tea at such an hour as this,’ confessed Miss Beccles. ‘But such an agreeable luxury!’
Happily for Nicky, Barrow had seen the carriage drive up to the house, and now brought a large jug of ale into the room, and three tankards. The gentlemen were thus able to enjoy a very tolerable nuncheon, during which they discussed the inquest with the ladies, informed them what arrangements had been made for
the funeral, and announced their intention of spending the afternoon at Highnoons, to search for any secret document there might be there.
Carlyon’s part in the search was methodical, and unhurried. For some time he was ably assisted by John, both brothers sitting in the book-room, Carlyon before an antique commode, whose drawers and cupboards were crammed with the accumulations of years; and John on the sofa, with a battered wooden box at his feet, which one of Eustace’s keys had been found to fit. This was full of papers, old account-books, ledgers, and bundles of letters, and these were all in such disorder that he was very glad to accept Elinor’s offer of assistance in sorting them out. But after half an hour’s steady work an interruption occurred. Nicky looked into the room, saying: ‘Look, is not this the very one, John?’
‘Ay, that is it,’ John replied, glancing up at the gaudy, if somewhat faded, kite he was being shown.
‘Well, do you mean to come and try if it will fly?’
‘Flying kites at my age! I should rather think not! Cannot you see that I am busy?’
‘Oh, fusty work!’ Nicky said, disappearing again.
John returned to his task, but happening to raise his head a few minutes later caught sight of Nicky in the garden. His attention remained riveted, and he presently ejaculated: ‘One would fancy him a school-boy! Incurable folly!’
Neither Carlyon nor Elinor returned any answer, and after a slight pause, during which he continued to look out of the window, he said testily: ‘That’s no way to go about it! Why does he not take it into the meadow? There cannot be wind enough in this hollow!’
‘Here is a book of household accounts twenty years old,’ said Elinor. ‘Shall I lay it aside to be burnt?’
‘Yes, certainly,’ he said absently. ‘There! You have got it entangled in the hedge! Ned, that boy will be hurting his shoulder if he persists! I’ll go out to him!’
He left the room abruptly as he spoke, and five minutes later Elinor had an excellent view of him upon the lawn, arguing with Nicky. Both brothers then departed in the direction of the meadow, Bouncer at their heels, and were no more seen until the light began to fail, and Carlyon had called for his carriage. They came in then, flushed and untidy, but full of satisfaction in having found the kite to be in famous shape, and very hot against their deceased cousin for the selfishness which had made him refuse to allow them to fly it years ago, when, as John rather unconvincingly said, they might really have enjoyed such a childish pastime. He looked a little conscious when he realised how late it was, and said that he begged pardon for having left his task. ‘But I thought I had best make sure Nicky did himself no injury,’ he explained. ‘Besides, I don’t believe there is anything in this rubbish-heap of a house but what had better have been burnt years ago!’
‘I begin to agree with you,’ said Carlyon, ruefully regarding the huge pile of waste-paper on the floor. ‘Nevertheless, the work had to be done, and whether I find anything of value or not I must continue until it is finished. Mrs Cheviot, I beg you will not exhaust yourself in this search! I shall return to-morrow, and there is not the least need for you to be turning out any more drawers and cupboards to-day.’
Both he and John took their leave of her, John saying that although he must return to London on the morrow he should try to be in Sussex to attend the funeral. As they left the house, Bouncer entered it, very much out of breath, and generously plastered with mud. Miss Beccles uttered a shriek of dismay, and ran at once for a cloth, with which she proceeded to dry his legs and paws, scolding gently as she did so. Bouncer instantly assumed the cowed mien of a dog suffering under torture, but upon being released tore round the room three times, at top-speed, sending all the rugs flying, and ended up with a leap on to the sofa, where he sat grinning and panting until turned off it by his master.
The night was uneventful. Upon the following morning, Carlyon came over at an early hour to Highnoons, and allowed himself to be lured up to the attic by Nicky, where he made a clearance which would have been even more drastic had not Miss Beccles trotted up a plate of rout drop-cakes (for she believed that gentlemen stood in constant need of sustenance) and rescued from the pile on the floor several old-fashioned dresses, whose stiff brocade, she assured Carlyon in scandalized accents, would cut up to admiration; a large pin-cushion; just such an earthenware bowl as Mrs Barrow stood in crying need of; a paper full of pins, a little rusted, to be sure, but by no means useless; and a book of Household Hints, which contained such valuable information as how to remove stains from linen by laying on salt of wormwood, and the infallibility of Scotch snuff as a means of destroying crickets.
While she was upstairs, Elinor went out into the garden, accompanied by Bouncer, to give some directions to the gardener, and was trying to convince him of the propriety of his devoting his time to weeding the overgrown carriage-drive, when a job-chaise drove in at the gate. When it pulled up before the house, a burly individual descended from it, with all the look about him of a tradesman. Elinor stepped forward to enquire his business, and was only just in time to prevent Bouncer’s seizing him by the calf of his leg. Ruffled by this reception, the visitor abandoned any attempt at civility, and thrust upon her a formidable, and detailed account, which, he loudly asserted, he would have paid immediately or by distraint. Upon learning that his defaulting client lay dead, he looked greatly taken aback, but after a few seconds’ astonishment said that he was not surprised to hear it, and would be paid in any event. The affronted widow recommended him to present his demand to Mr Cheviot’s executors, and, when he seemed inclined to think she might well pay him a trifle on account, since he was a poor man, and sadly out of pocket over the business, announced her inability any longer to control the dog. The visitor then mounted into his chaise again with more speed than dignity, and Mrs Cheviot went up to the attic to inform Carlyon, with no little relish, that just as she had always expected she was now being dunned at the door.
‘Yes, I dare say this is but the first of many such encounters,’ replied Carlyon. ‘A notice is to be inserted in the newspapers, but no doubt it will be missed by many.’
‘Charming! So I must accustom myself to being abused at my own door!’
‘I cannot understand why you should be answering your front-door bell,’ said Carlyon. ‘Barrow is well able to deal with such persons.’
‘But I was in the garden, and naturally stepped up to the man to know what he might want!’ said Elinor indignantly.
‘Unwise. You will know better another time,’ was all the satisfaction she obtained.
She was happily diverted by Miss Beccles’s displaying to her the glories of the brocade dresses she had rescued. ‘Oh, I can remember Mama in just such a dress!’ she cried. ‘It should have a hoop, should it not, Becky? And the hair dressed high, with powder, and a wreath, or feathers, or some such thing! I wonder how anyone can ever have borne to have worn such a garment! Only feel the weight of it! But the brocade is the very thing we need for the cushions in the parlour.’ She looked round the attic, marvelling at the collection of worn-out finery, furniture, and rubbish. ‘Good God, has everything that needed a stitch, or a nail, been cast into this garret?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ said Miss Beccles, shaking her head mournfully. ‘There has been a sad want of management and economy, I fear. And here is my lord refusing to let me keep back that chair from the bonfire, and all it needs is to have the seat recaned! And only look at that spit, too! I am sure it could be mended, if only he would let me take it down to the kitchen.’
‘You may take it down, dear Becky,’ said Elinor grandly. ‘You may save anything you like from the bonfire!’
‘Oh, no, my love! If his lordship feels it were better to throw the things away, I would not think –’
‘This,’ said Elinor, in a very lofty tone, ‘is my house, and you may tell his lordship that he has nothing to say in the matter!’
‘Elinor, my love! Indeed, you
let the liveliness of your mind betray you into saying what is not at all becoming!’
‘Tell his lordship with your compliments,’ corrected Carlyon. ‘You should always add your compliments to any message you wish to render excessively cutting.’
She cast him a withering glance, and prepared to retreat in good order. To her surprise, he followed her out of the attic, and downstairs, saying: ‘Your unwelcome visitor has put me in mind of something I should have spoken of before, Mrs Cheviot. Shall we go into the parlour?’
‘Now, what horrid surprise do you mean to spring on me?’ she asked suspiciously.
‘On my honour, none at all! But it occurs to me that it will be proper for me, as my cousin’s executor, to advance you sufficient moneys to pay for all those items, I dare say a great many, which it may not be convenient to charge up.’
‘No, pray do not! There can be not the least necessity!’
‘On the contrary, you are not to be spending out of your own purse.’
‘I shall not. Why, what should I spend money on?’
‘Depend upon it, there will be a score of things.’ He added with a slight smile: ‘At any moment a pedlar may come to the door, and you will buy a broom from him, or a chintz patch, or some such thing!’
‘Well, if I do that is quite my own affair. I had rather you did not give me any money.’
‘You are over-scrupulous, ma’am, but since you have this extreme nicety I will place a sum in Miss Beccles’s charge.’
She almost stamped her foot at him. ‘I wish you will not treat me as though I were a schoolgirl, my lord!’ she said. She read an answer in his eye, and added hurriedly: ‘And do not tell me that I behave as one, because it is quite untrue!’
‘Certainly not. I know you to be a sensible woman, a little too much in the habit of having your own way.’
She fairly gasped. ‘This reproach from you, my lord!’