Читать книгу A Crime On Canvas - Fred M. White - Страница 11

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LAWRENCE followed into the house. He saw that the hall was in semi-darkness, as, indeed, was every room on the ground floor. The electric lights were burning brilliantly, though it was not yet mid-day. The place itself was one mass of flowers—white flowers for the most part, but there were geraniums and begonias, too, the scent of which was almost overpowering. Outside was a conservatory or winter garden. Lawrence had never seen so many flowers massed together before. He turned an inquiring eye on Ethel.

"Very strange, is it not?" she whispered. "But please don't ask me to explain. What it all means, I have not the remotest notion, for I have never been here before, and I never dreamt that my grandfather had a house other than Glenallan. You had better take it all for granted until Sir Arthur is disposed to make a confidant of you. Meanwhile, I'll go and look for him."

Ethel flitted away. To Lawrence the house was painfully silent and he sat with a vague sense of coming evil. He seemed to hear the tolling of that dreadful prison bell still. Then a footman in the plainest and severest of black liveries came like a ghost out of the gloom. His face was pale and his lips twitched slightly.

"Please come this way, sir," he said in a whisper. "Sir Arthur is ready to see you now."

Lawrence Hatton found himself in a large room at the back of the house opening out into a magnificent conservatory. It was quite evident that the owner of the house was attached to flowers of all kinds, though Lawrence could not call to mind any hobby of that sort on Sir Arthur's part in the old days. Still, this was no time to ask questions. There was no artificial light here, and the rays of the sun came softly through the dome of the great transparent house. A figure rose from the depths of a cavernous armchair—a figure at once strange yet familiar to Hatton.

"So this," he told himself, "is all that remains of Sir Arthur Blantyre after the lapse of three years." The hard, wiry frame was still there, but the chest was sunken, and the keen, dark eyes retained little of their wonted fire. The curly hair was white, though the moustache and imperial still retained some suggestion of their darkness.

"Sit down, Mr. Hatton," Blantyre said after extending a shaking hand to his companion. "This is a strange meeting after all these years. And if you have had your misfortunes, God knows I have not been free from mine."

Looking at the speaker, Lawrence could well believe it. Yet he was a man whose family and property were the envy of a whole countryside. None was so proud and exclusive as were the Blantyres of Glenallan. The Hattons, good old family as they were, had never aspired to be on equal terms with the owners of Glenallan.

"I am a broken man, Sir Arthur," Lawrence said quietly. "Four years ago I looked to great things in my profession as a barrister. My dear old father could leave me nothing when he died. But his death-bed was rendered smooth by the fact that he knew I had made a fair start in the world. Then came my cruel misfortune—one of the strangest cases of a miscarriage of justice that ever took place in a court of law. But we need not dwell upon that. I live in hopes that some day my character will be vindicated——"

"It shall," Blantyre cried excitedly as he paced about the room. "It is possible that I may be able to show you how. Did it ever strike you that Victor Le Blanc could have turned the tide in your favour if you had summoned him as a witness?"

"That is possible," Lawrence said coolly. "Victor Le Blanc was an old school-fellow of mine, and his mother and my father were great friends. But the elder Le Blanc was a thorough-paced scoundrel and I am afraid that Victor took after him."

"Good Heavens, yes! It was a bad day for me when the doors of Glenallan opened to admit that rascal. But go on."

"Is there any need, Sir Arthur?" Lawrence asked. "Of course, I could have called Le Blanc had I so chosen. If I had done so, certain episodes in his past would have been disclosed, and the scandal would have killed his mother. She eventually did die of a weak heart, I believe. And as for her, why, I loved her like a mother. And she was so fond and proud of Victor, she was so sure that he was not likely to take after his father. For her sake I suffered, buoyed up with the hope that my good name would be cleared in the end. Otherwise——"

"Oh, I know, I know," Sir Arthur said sadly. "It was, indeed, wasted kindness. On the whole face of the earth there is no greater scoundrel than Victor Le Blanc. I could not measure the misery that he has brought upon my house. He has humbled my pride in the dust, he has made me what I am. And even yet the measure of his wickedness is not full. I will tell you later how I incurred his displeasure, and how he is preparing a vengeance which will make me a laughing-stock and a by-word wherever the name of Blantyre is known. For my sake, for Ethel's sake, in the interests of another who must be nameless for the moment, this thing will have to be stopped. . . . I suppose you failed to recognize Ethel when she spoke to you this morning. You found her much changed?"

"I think she might have walked by me without recognition, Sir Arthur. The pretty child I used to be so fond of has grown to a very beautiful girl. You must recognize that."

"Indeed, I do, Hatton. And yet there are times, God forgive me, when I wish that she had never been born. Still, we are a brave race, and I am not going to despair. I sent for you to come to my little hiding-place here, first because I feel you are innocent, and secondly because I knew you would find some difficulty in finding employment—at any rate, for the present. But that is not the only reason. You have no acquaintances to chatter with. You will be prudent and not talk. Now if you accept the post which I am going to offer you, can I rely upon your courage?"

"It was never doubted," Lawrence said quietly. "I don't know what to do or where to turn. But I will do anything so long as your work is honourable."

"That is just how I expected you to speak," Sir Arthur replied. "Your nerve will be tried, and your pluck tested to the uttermost. As to the material side of the bargain I will pay you well. But you will have to move quietly and diplomatically, and, above all things, you must contrive to blind everybody to the fact that you are working on my behalf. I am afraid the first task I am going to give you will not be a congenial one, but I want you to seek out Le Blanc and learn all about his movements. I know for a fact that he is back from Paris plotting the vengeance which I have spoken of. If you could manage to drive him out of the country——"

"There are more unlikely things," Lawrence exclaimed. "But, tell me, where is the man to be found, and what is he doing? He bade fair at one time to make a reputation as an artist, like his father before him."

"My dear Hatton he has made quite a great name," Blantyre cried. "In France his reputation stands very high. It is through this gift of his that he means to strike me. I cannot tell you everything at present, but I am already letting you into secrets which, up to now, are unknown even to Ethel.... It is strange that a man like Le Blanc could be so inspired and yet so depraved. But I am wandering. Of course, you will say nothing to Le Blanc as to your coming from me. You will act on your own inspiration. You will find out all you can, and let me know every one of that man's movements. Above all, you are to keep an eye upon his artistic work and see that I am thoroughly posted. Ethel and myself will go back to Glenallan to-morrow, for the pressing business which brought me here is finished for the moment. If you want money you may draw upon me for all you require. And don't write to me at Glenallan, come down and see me if you have anything important to say."

Lawrence glanced thoughtfully at the speaker. The latter's words seemed to be business-like enough, but he was palpably the prey of some strong emotion. What hold could that scoundrel have over Sir Arthur? It seemed almost impossible that this thing could be, and yet something had transformed this strong man into a pitiable nervous wreck.

"I will do all I can," Lawrence said. "I am sorry that you cannot see your way to trusting me implicitly."

"I dare not," Sir Arthur groaned. "Besides, the secret is not entirely mine. If I could buy off that man with money, I would not hesitate if it cost me my whole fortune. But poorly extravagant as that fellow is, I cannot move him in that way."

"We may find another method," Lawrence said cheerfully. "And now give me his address, and I will see what I can do for you. I suppose the fellow has a studio in London."

"In Fitzroy Square," Sir Arthur explained. "I will write down the number for you. And now I shall be glad if you will leave me, for I am very tired."

With the address in his pocket, Lawrence went back into the hall amongst the darkness and the flowers. If he had hoped to meet Ethel he was doomed to disappointment. The girl was nowhere to be seen. But there were more important matters to occupy his attention. He stepped out into the open and looked down the road. He saw no one but an itinerant musician with a tin whistle. Lawrence started back and hid himself in the doorway.