CHAPTER FORTY ONE.
HOME!
A double inquest and a long inquiry, too, in which an intelligentBritish jury returned a verdict of wilful murder against SaulHarrington--the most satisfactory of circumstantial evidence going toprove that he had, by a deep-laid scheme slowly insinuated himself intothe good graces of the man he believed to be the cousin, who stoodbetween him and fortune and the woman he loved. He had drugged himnight after night during their drinking bouts while in the study; andduring his victim's insensibility, with diabolical ingenuity, preparedhis tomb--the keys thereof being within his reach, and being replacedwhen he had done. Then when all was ripe on the night following hissupposed start for the Continent, the victim disappeared. Saulreturning and entering the house by the staircase window to find thatthe whiskey he had left well drugged had thoroughly done its work.
He might have let it seem to be that his victim had died of poison, butthat would have meant ugly inquiries, and their intercourse and hisposition as heir have thrown suspicion upon him. He thought his ownplan the better, and the pseudo George Harrington disappeared--his goingoff appearing the more natural from the fact that he had been drawinglarge sums of money from the estate.
The work was cunningly done, and to Saul Harrington's brain so sure thathe thought the safer way was to bury with his victim the money he haddrawn; watch, chain, everything. But murderers' brains are generallyclever up to a certain point, and then shallow as that of a child.
So Saul Harrington did his work cleverly and completely, toiling at thecompletion of his task in the cellar with the skill of one to the mannertrained; and then just before daybreak escaped down the garden toencounter an old enemy in the shape of the dog.
"It was a mere bite that would soon heal," Saul said laughingly as hemade his way to Paris, and then on to Switzerland; but it did not heal;and then came the fiction of the accident on the ice slope, then thenews of something wrong at The Mynns; and he returned to play his part--a desperate one--but with a tremendous prize as reward for having helpeda worthless man to a rather earlier end, when, like a thunder clap, itcame upon him that his labour had been in vain. He had slain thewould-be murderer of his cousin--the impostor who had struck GeorgeHarrington down, robbed him, and taken his place with sufficient abilityto be received as the acknowledged heir.
Doctors argued over the question of its being genuine hydrophobia fromwhich Saul died. A bad wound, combined with mental disturbance,certainly did cause his end; and there were those who said it was betterso than through the vengeance of the law.
There is no need to dwell upon the horrors of the discovery completed bythe police--of the lime and its effect, and the points by which GeorgeHarrington proved at the inquest that these were the remains of his oldtreacherous companion, Dan Portway.
For without seeing them he swore to there being a peculiar ridge uponthe skull, the result of a tomahawk wound, and to there being either ahole or the trace of a hole in the scapula, where Nature had covered thepassage through of a revolver bullet. He swore, too, that the watchfound on the murdered man was made in a particular way, contained acertain inscription, and that the ring upon his finger was roughlybeaten out of virgin gold, and contained his initials "GH," and the datewhen he had idly formed it with a hammer and a chisel, out of a RockyMountain nugget.
He proved then, and afterwards by means of communication from theStates, enough to satisfy the most sceptical, that he was the realGeorge Harrington; while now the gardener could come forward with diverslittle bits of evidence to add to the certainty of Saul Harrington'sguilt.
"Why didn't I say so afore?" the gardener said in the kitchen, in answerto a question, "'cause I didn't think it was no consequence. If I seelarks going on, with footmarks under windows, and holes in yew hedges,why, I thinks to myself, `young men will be young men, and if younggardeners goes to see young housemaids and cooks that way, it's onlynat'ral as gents with lots of money should do likewise.' 'Cause I finda lot of my lime as I uses for the gardens been took, and my whitewashbrush as I uses to do out the greenus, is it nat'ral as I should go andholler murder? No."
Time glided on. For a whole year The Mynns had been closed, passingpeople stopping to gaze at the shuttered windows as seen through theopen work of the great ornamental gates, and talk about the horriblemurder, and the body found buried in lime in the bin of the old cellar;but after the first few weeks the faces seen peering in by old Dentongrew fewer. For, asked if she would mind staying on in the house shelooked up inquiringly, and said simply:
"Why? Didn't I stop in the house when poor old master died?"
It was a little different, though, with the other servants, who held aconsultation, and had nearly decided upon going, cook heading theparliament by declaring that she "couldn't abear ghosts, though she hada slight weakness for spirits." The gardener, however, who was present,gave it as his opinion dogmatically, that even if there were such thingsas ghosts, he never knew them do anyone any harm; and them as threw upgood places for such "rubbidge" as that might think themselves veryclever, but he was going to stay.
Hence it was that there was plenty of busy excitement and preparationsat The Mynns one bright summer's day about a year after the discovery.The shutters were open, windows clean, gravel paths freshened up withred sand, and all giving the place a cheery aspect, which had been longabsent, when Mrs Hampton alighted with her husband from thestation-fly, and the big bell clanged.
"Yes, Denton; I know they will not be here till seven, but I thought I'dcome down and chat with you, and ask you if you had not forgotten any ofmy instructions."
"You shall see, ma'am, if you'll come in; and then, perhaps, you'll likea bit of lunch; and why, if there isn't Doctor Lawrence?"
"Ah. Denton; how do! Well, I call it pride--and after all theseyears."
"Pride? What is?" said the old lawyer.
"You two trotting off in your station flies, and passing an old friendon the road without offering him a lift."
"Why, how did you come down?"
"Same train, second-class. I'm not a first-class person. I only wantedto see that all was right for the young folks."
Mrs Hampton bridled a little, and then smiled.
It was a pleasant social little lunch the old friends had together, theold lawyer praising the sherry highly.
"So much body in it," he said, holding it up to the light.
"I hope not," said the doctor drily, and Mrs Hampton looked horrified.
And so it was that there was plenty of familiar faces to welcome thehappy pair, as they drove up to the gate at seven, Gertrude being kissedroundly by all, and George Harrington's hand shaken, as pleasantallusions were made to the honeymoon.
Then there was an interruption in the shape of a peal of dog thunder,and Bruno, who had been let loose by Mrs Denton, dashed into the hall,upset the umbrella stand, knocked over a chair with one sweep of histail, and then seemed to go mad with joy to see his young mistress andnew master once more; his way of showing his affection for the formerbeing by pawing at her and licking her gloves, and for the latter bybutting at him ram-fashion, as if to show how sound the damaged head hadgrown.
He grew so boisterous at last that orders were given for his removal,but at the first intimation he uttered a doleful howl.
"Then lie down, Bruno! Watch!" cried George Harrington.
The result was that Bruno turned himself into a noble-looking ornamenton the hall mat.
"Well, impostor," said the old lawyer chuckling, "I suppose we mustacknowledge you now?"
"Yes, and you, too, you wicked little impostress," cried DoctorLawrence. "Eh? What? Drink their healths? To be sure. Come, MrsHampton, let me fill your glass."
"No, no--I couldn't," said the old lady. "Well, then, half full. Godbless you both, my dears; and I wish the world was full of suchimpostors."
"Amen," said the two old men in a breath.
"Here's old Denton," cried Doctor Lawrence, seizing the decanter and afresh
glass. "Come, old lady: a glass of James Harrington's port.Drink every drop to the health of the happy pair."
The old lady slowly and tearfully drained, her glass, and then tried tokiss Gertrude's hand, but it was hastily withdrawn, and the young wife'slips were proffered in its place.
"Home, my darling," said George, when at last they were alone. "Thereis no mystery about The Mynns now. Do you know, I was sorely pressed tosell it by a speculative builder, and I hesitated, feeling that it wouldbe as well, for that you would have a repugnance to the place."
"Oh, George!"
"Ah, I was right, then. My little wife has too much good sense to beset against it for that. The world is full of horrors."
"Yes," said Gertrude, laying her head upon his breast; "and yet it isfull of joys."
THE END.
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