CHAPTER XVI
THE CONFESSION OF BROOKS
We left Valoro a few days after the great festival of the New Year,which came as a fitting finale to all our gaiety.
Christmas had been a quiet, sedate feast in the nature of a Sunday. Weleft just as the premonitory signs of the rainy season were makingthemselves apparent.
St. Nivel's friends, the American attaches, told him that we were wellout of it, as the rains were torrential.
Dolores and I commenced the journey with much satisfaction; up to thelast we had feared that Don Juan might have altered his mind and lefthis daughter at home, but I think the old gentleman began tounderstand, if he thought about it at all, that if he left Doloresbehind, he would also have to leave me too.
Our departure was on the morrow of a great banquet, given by Don Juanto many of the notabilities of Valoro in our honour.
It was one of the grandest dinners I was ever present at, and thedisplay of ladies' dresses and jewels would have done credit to a courtfunction at home. But I think the sweet simple beauty of Dolores andmy cousin Ethel took the palm. On this occasion I took in to dinner agrave and important donna with a distinct beard and moustache. I wastold that she was a model of piety and that _all_--or nearly all--piousold ladies in Aquazilia had beards and moustaches!
Dolores sat opposite me on this occasion, and the way in which a youngmilitary attache of Brazil paid her attention under my very nose,stamped him at once in my estimation, with his curled-up moustache, asa mere puppy!
I am sure Dolores thought so too, although she _did_ listen to histrashy conversation, because when we were saying "good-night"--hastilyunder one of the big palms on the terrace--oh! if he could have seenus--she told me with her two dear arms round my neck that she onlyloved me, and I was not to look so _jealous_ another time at adinner-party, but talk to my partner whether she had a beard andmoustache or not. Just as if I _could_ look jealous and of _such_ aman!
And so we left Aquazilia behind with its sunshine and lavishhospitality, and took ship again--the dear old _Oceana_--for our ownfoggy island, which I did not much relish returning to in February.
But Dolores was with me and she made sunshine everywhere.
We had been a fortnight on our return voyage, when an incident occurredwhich filled me with surprise and concern.
It was one of those grey days at sea when the prospect of the mingledocean and sky is not very attractive.
St. Nivel was in the smoking-room; Dolores and Ethel were in thestate-room of the latter, holding one of those long important feminineconferences--most delightful, I understood, to themselves--in whichdress was the _piece de resistance_, with perhaps a little gossip aboutEthel's conquests in Aquazilia; they were legion! Mrs. Darbyshire wasasleep in her state-room, and as for the dear old man, Don Juan, whom Ilooked upon now as my future father-in-law, he was studying assiduouslya book he had picked up in the ship's library, _Reptiles of England,Scotland, and Wales_.
Simple soul! He might just as well have studied the snakes of Irelandfor all he would see of them in England at that time of the year,unless he went to the Zoo, and then I understand he would not see much.
Our party being thus disposed of, I was sitting alone in a shelteredpart of the promenade deck--for there was a bit of a wind--ratherdepressed at the dreary grey prospect I was contemplating. I wasabsolutely alone.
Perhaps I had been sitting thus half an hour, wrapped up in a Burberry,when I heard a soft footstep approaching, and my man Brooks stoodbefore me. I noticed that he too looked depressed, and I put hisexpression down too to the effect of the weather. He stood there for amoment in silence, then preferred a request.
"May I speak to you for a few minutes, sir?" he asked.
I straightened myself up in my deck chair, and took a good look at him;he certainly appeared very solemn, as if he had got something on hismind.
"Certainly, Brooks," I answered, "what's the matter?"
The man had been a most excellent servant, and indeed I considered Iowed my life to him, and perhaps Dolores' as well, for had he nothanded me my Colt's revolver on that memorable night when the train wasattacked, and I was being carried off by the supposed robbers? Heavailed himself of his permission to speak very slowly; he appeared tobe turning something over in his mind, and whatever it was, wasapparently not very agreeable. He stood at "attention," the habit ofan old soldier, with his forehead puckered; at last his lips opened,and he commenced what he had to say.
"When you engaged me, sir," he began, "you were under the impressionthat I was a straightforward English servant. Sir," he added, "I wasnothing of the sort."
I looked at his bronzed, clean-shaven face, fair hair and soldier'sblue eyes, in wonderment.
"What are you talking about, Brooks?" I asked. The man's tonedisturbed me. I had grown quite fond of him, and feared he was goingto give notice. He was a most perfect valet, the best by far that Ihad ever come across.
"You thought I was straight, sir," he continued, "and I wasn't. It waslike this, sir: when I left the army I was taken as valet by the Dookof Birmingham; his brother had been an officer in my old regiment, andI had been his servant.
"I lived with the Dook over two year, and then when we were staying ina big house near Sandringham there was some jewellery of the Dook'smissed, and His Grace told me that, although he made no charge againstme, he should get another valet.
"I give you my word, sir, as I stand here, that I knew nothing of themissing jewellery. I was as innocent of stealing it as a babe unborn.
"But I knew perfectly well that the thing would stand against me, andthat I should be a marked man; indeed, there was a good deal of talkabout it in the housekeeper's room among the other upper servants.About this time the valet of a great foreign duke, who happened to bealso staying in the neighbourhood, and himself a foreigner, came to meone day when I was very downhearted, and asked me to come over to thegreat house where he was staying and drink a bottle of Rhine wine withhim. I went, and he showed me your advertisement, and told me hethought it would be a good thing for me.
"I thought so too, but I did not believe that you would be likely totake me if you were told why I was leaving the Dook, as I have no doubtyou would have been.
"I mentioned this to the foreign valet, and he said he thought he knewa gentleman who would help me, and perhaps I had better go and see himfirst. By his direction, sir, I went to see a gentleman at the LanghamHotel in London, a Mr. Saumarez."
"Saumarez?" I exclaimed. "What was he like?"
"He was a dark gentleman, sir, and he had got something the matter withone of his eyes."
"Thank you," I said, "go on. I think I know who the gentleman was."
"He asked me to confide in him, sir, and I told him everything, and thedifficulty I feared I should have in finding another situation.
"After some conversation he said he thought I certainly ought to tryfor your situation, and that if I succeeded to come and let him know,and he would see about the character without troubling the Dook.
"As you know, sir, you were good enough to entertain my application,and I then went straight away to Mr. Saumarez to ask him what I was todo.
"He said that on certain conditions a friend of his would give me acharacter."
"That was Captain FitzJames, I suppose?" I interrupted.
"Exactly, sir," Brooks replied, "the gentleman who you supposed I hadbeen living with."
"This is pretty bad, Brooks," I said gravely, looking away at the greyhorizon. In my heart I was thoroughly sorry for the man. And he wassuch a good valet, too! No wonder, for he had lived with one of therichest dukes in England.
"Yes, it is pretty bad, sir," he continued, "but not as bad as what'sto come. I asked Mr. Saumarez what conditions he required of me, andhe told me. First, I was to keep him informed daily of every movementof yours; secondly, I was to be ready to act under his orders incertain 'simple matters.' He explained that these simple matters wouldconsist in 'l
ittle acts which would harm no one.'
"At first I was inclined to walk out of the room and leave him, and Ithink he saw my intention, for he held up his hand and went on further.
"He told me plainly that I was entirely in his power, and that he couldprevent me getting a situation at all if he chose. I had told him Ihad a wife and two children depending on me--although I deceived you,sir, in that matter under his advice. He asked me now whether I wishedthem to starve. He pointed out that if I accepted his terms he woulddouble my wages, so that I could leave my little family in comfort. Icouldn't bear to think they would be in want, sir. I felt certain Ihad fallen among a bad lot, and believed myself to be powerless. Inthe end, sir, like a fool, I gave in and agreed to his terms.
"Now just listen, sir, how I betrayed you.
"I wrote every day to Mr. Saumarez and told him of every movement ofyours, especially the going to the solicitors; he wanted to know allabout that.
"You will remember the last time you went there, just before we went toEuston on our way to Liverpool? Well, that newspaper man running alongand knocking me down, and the lady and gentleman coming up and brushingyou down, was all a put-up job. I was told to fall down and keep outof the way to give the others time to act. Of course, it was they whocut your coat open.
"I wonder you can listen to me, sir."
"Go on," I said.
"I knew they hadn't got what they wanted, because there was a longtelegram waiting for me at Liverpool on board, and I was told to keepup communication with Saumarez by Marconograms. So, I did; I did allthey wished until the train was held up, and then, sir, when I saw youstripped by those greasers, and about being carried off, I could standit no longer. I made my mind up to throw Saumarez over and protectyou; it was then that I went and fetched your revolver and put it inyour hand. Since then I have kept on giving them information, but itis all false.
"I couldn't bear the worry of it any longer. I laid awake all lastnight, and this morning I made up my mind to come and tell youeverything.
"I know you will discharge me, sir, and I deserve it.
"I only have to humbly ask your pardon for betraying you, andforgetting I was once an English soldier."
He finished, standing before me, white, and with quivering lips. As heceased speaking, I could not help remembering that, at any rate, he hadsaved my life in all probability, and that which was far dearer to methan life, the honour of Dolores.
I turned to him.
"For the present," I said, as kindly as I could under thecircumstances, "continue to do your duties, and I will consider what Imust do."
"If I could only think you would give me another chance, sir----" hesaid, eagerly taking a step forward.
"I cannot promise," I said. "I must consider."