CHAPTER IV
A LETTER FROM NEW YORK
Jasper Jarman was a self-made man, and, like many another self-mademan, had a very exalted opinion of his own handiwork.
During his early career Jasper had fought a bitter battle with theworld; by thirty-five he had conquered it, and now in the evening ofhis days he was very averse to relinquishing any of the moral spoils ofhis victory. To thwart Jasper Jarman was to rouse to their uttermostthose fighting instincts that had given him the name of "Stone-wallJarman" in his younger days.
Another trait common to self-made men was possessed by Jasper, he wasan early riser. On the morning following his arrival at AdderburyCottage he was abroad by seven, pacing up and down the trimbox-bordered walk that ran round two sides of the house. He walkedwith an assertive tread, his large square-toed boots crunching thegravel rhythmically. His hands were lightly clasped behind his back,and with chest thrown well out he was inhaling the scented airs thatrose from the dew-drenched garden. A blackbird strutted about thelittle lawn, and a close observer would have noticed a certainresemblance in the manners of man and bird.
From a little diamond-paned window a blind was drawn aside a few inchesand an eye peeped cautiously forth upon the world. As the pompousfigure of Mr. Jasper Jarman rounded the corner of the house and cameinto view, the blind was quickly dropped back into its place.
Five minutes later Edward Povey emerged from the front door, hisunbuttoned waistcoat and his vaguely tied cravat giving the lie directto the studied indifference of his walk.
His surprise at coming face to face with Mr. Jasper Jarman was quite anadmirable piece of acting.
"Good-morning, Uncle Jasper; up with the lark, eh! the early bird, youknow. Slept well, I hope?"
"Ah, Edward, my boy, good-morning--slept like a top, thanks; capitalroom Charlotte's given us. I'm afraid we've turned you out."
"Oh not at all, uncle, pray don't mention it."
"Faces east, though; your aunt finds the morning sun rather trying.She's going to turn the room out to-day and shift the bed to the otherwall."
"Turn out the room, uncle?"
"Yes, my boy; capital woman your aunt, never idle a moment, always upand doing. You won't know this house after she's been here a month."
Edward thought it far more probable that it was the house that wouldn'tknow him by then, but, too taken aback to reply, he merely passed hishandkerchief over his dry lips and waited for Jasper to continue.
The old man paused in his walk and ran his eye critically over somestandard rose trees, that, each in its little island of mould, studdedthe lawn.
"Yes, my boy, you'll find we're not drones. We're busy bees, your auntand me; what she does to the house I do to the garden. I'm never happyunless I'm pottering about with a trowel. I'll have this place," hewaved his arm comprehensively, "shipshape in no time. I'll have thoseroses up and put 'em in a row under the window, they're wasted wherethey are, and we'll re-turf the lawn and make it big enough forcroquet."
Jasper looked at Edward Povey for approbation. "Or even tennis," saidthe latter, who felt he must say something. Then he sat down on arustic garden seat and nervously rolled himself a cigarette. Jasper,leaning a fat elbow upon the stone sundial, went on.
"A nice little place all the same, yes, a nice little place. Betterthan Clapham, eh, Edward?"
"Much better, uncle Jasper."
"The firm seems to have found out your worth at last. Well, I'm gladof it. Your aunt is always telling me that Charlotte married afool--no, don't get angry, that's only her way of putting it. Beenhere long?"
"Not very long, uncle. You see, I've only got on lately. I discovereda scheme whereby my firm could save a small fortune in postage, andthey rewarded me liberally. Then they found out I could correspond andspeak in French and Spanish, so they rewarded me again. Oh! They'vedone me very well, I---- There's the gong for breakfast; we'll go in."
The meal was hardly a pleasant one. Aunt Eliza, whose temper thebattle with the morning sun had not improved, munched her toast insilence. She was one of those individuals who appear to undergo arefrigerating process during the night hours and to awake frost-bitten.During the day she would gradually thaw. The process was sometimesrapid, but more often than not the midday dinner passed before Mrs.Jasper Jarman was even commonly polite. She had never been known tosmile before eleven.
At eight-thirty Edward prepared to leave the house, presumably for thebusiness offices of Messrs. Kyser, Schultz & Company, in Eastcheap. Hewas glad to escape from the charged atmosphere of the Adderbury Cottagedining-room, but he hated to leave Charlotte alone to play his game forhim. To let Uncle Jasper suspect that he was not still in the serviceof the firm would of course be fatal. As he stood in the hall drawingon his gloves he noticed that the postman had left in the box a blueenvelope. Making sure he was alone, he drew it out. It was, ofcourse, addressed to Mr. Kyser, and Edward was about to place itunopened in his pocket, when his uncle's voice came from the stairsabove--
"That for me, Edward?"
"No, uncle; it's--mine."
Mr. Jasper Jarman was descending the stairs, and, acting upon impulse,Edward inserted his thumb beneath the flap and slit open the envelope.The action was quite unpremeditated, but he thought it might looksuspicious to place it in his pocket unopened when he had given UncleJasper to believe it was his own. He seemed to have an idea that hisuncle would ask to see it.
Edward glanced at the clock, and, with a hurried good-bye, flew downthe garden path, the open envelope still in his hand. On turning abend of the road that hid him from view, he looked long and searchinglyat it. It had been forwarded to Adderbury Cottage from Mr. Kyser'stown house in Grosvenor Square, and Edward thought it strange that thatshould be so. Surely his housekeeper in town knew that her master wasnot at the cottage. Altogether Kyser's departure was rathersuspicious. Edward had heard Mr. Schultz speaking to his partner theday he had left, had even heard them bid each other good-night, andnow, as he thought of it, he remembered Schultz making an appointmentfor the next day. Looking at the affair squarely, it came home toEdward that Kyser's departure was hurried, not to say suspicious, andwas even unknown to his housekeeper and his partner.
Suppose the owner of Adderbury Cottage had committed some crime, thepolice might even now be there after him. Self-preservation toldEdward that he should read the contents of the envelope he held in hishand. Any information that showed light upon the situation it wasclearly to his interest to know.
By this time he was walking rapidly down Clay Hill leading to thevillage of Bushey. He passed through the straggling High Street, pastthe old church, and descended the further hill into Watford. He wasstill holding in his hand the letter. At eleven o'clock he entered thesmoking-room of the Rose and Crown, and having ordered a small Bass,drew a sheet of paper from the envelope that had been forwarded to Mr.Kyser from his town house in Grosvenor Square.
"19, WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET, "NEW YORK CITY, "U.S.A.
"_To Sydney Kyser, Esq._
"_MY DEAR OLD FRIEND,_
"_You will be surprised to hear from me again after so long a lapse,but many things--ill-health among them--have prevented my travelling toEngland, although I have promised myself the trip many times in thepast few years. And now I feel that I shall never take it, and thatthe doctor here, who gives me two weeks to live, speaks the truth.Well, I've had a good innings, and, as they say over here, 'there's nokick coming.' I leave only one regret, and it is with regard to thisthat I venture to write to you. If you would do a dying man akindness, and at the same time right a wrong, the chance is now yours.My state of health will not allow of my writing my request in full--andI ask you to promise nothing until you know all. This you can do bycalling upon Mr. Abraham Nixon,_ 5A, _St. Mary Axe, in the City ofLondon._
"_This gentleman will tell you a story so remarkable that it may seemto you incredible._
"_But it is true every word of it. You will then act as yo
u see fit.But I conjure you, by our past friendship, to do as Mr. Nixon asks._
"_Your_ bona fide _will consist of the crest torn from the head of thisnotepaper, which please send in to Mr. Nixon with these words writtenon it in red ink--_
'_MR. SYDNEY_ re _GALVA_'
"_If you follow these instructions to the letter, Mr. Nixon will atonce put you in complete possession of all the facts of the case._
"_With my last breath I shall pray for you and the success of themission._
"_Yours,_ "_HUBERT BAXENDALE._
"_P.S.--You will see that Mr. Nixon will know you as Mr. Sydney. Notknowing whether you would like to undertake what I ask in your ownname, I thought it wiser that in this matter you should be known simplyas 'Mr. Sydney.'_
"_H. B._"
Edward read the letter through many times before he finally folded itand replaced it in its envelope. Then he sat for a long time thinkingon what he had read. There was no way of corresponding with Mr. Kyserfor a month, and by that time the wrong that the letter spoke of mightbe past the righting.
Would it not be better if he were to act, as it were, for Mr. Kyser,and, under the name of Sydney, gather what information he could fromMr. Nixon? He would then be able to judge more clearly what it werebest to do.
Of course, in his own mind, Edward knew well that to act as hesuggested to himself was taking a most unwarrantable liberty withanother's affairs; but he was hardly himself. The excitement of thelast few days had had anything but a salutary effect upon his moralbalance; he had been living in a hot-bed of lies, and hisdiscriminating powers of right and wrong had deteriorated sadly.
Who could say but that in this letter was a way out of the hideous messhe had made of things up at Adderbury Cottage? There was nothingagainst his going to St. Mary Axe. The letter plainly showed that Mr.Kyser and Mr. Nixon were unacquainted. There would be nothing to tellhim from the real Mr. Sydney. It would at least fill in the timeduring which he must remain away from the cottage.
Edward Povey called the waiter and borrowed a time-table. He consultedthis, then made his way to the writing-room, where he found a bottle ofred ink. From the head of Mr. Baxendale's letter he tore the crest andheading, and across it he wrote the words mentioned in the letter.This he folded and placed in his pocket-book.
At half-past three the same afternoon Mr. Edward Povey, _alias_, forthe moment, Mr. Sydney, pushed open the swing doors of Mr. AbrahamNixon's office in St. Mary Axe--and came to grips with Romance.