The Solitary Farm Read online

  CHAPTER XVI

  THE PAPERS

  Next morning the news was all over the village, that Silas Pence hadbeen seized with epilepsy, and in falling had cut his head open againstthe old-fashioned fender. He had just time--said the gossips--to ringthe bell before the catastrophe, and the landlady being, fortunately,awake, had rushed into the room to his assistance. In an hour he hadbecome conscious, and had been put to bed, after giving the explanationof how he came by the wound in his head. As Silas was fairly popular,everyone was more or less sorry, and many were the callers at thecottage on the common.

  Dora heard the news from one of her scholars, and retailed it to herfriend when she came home to luncheon. Bella turned pale when she heardof the affair. She guessed that this was the work of Durgo, andreproached herself for having enlisted his services. But then, sheargued, that if Durgo really was responsible for the preacher'ssickness, he would have appeared in Miss Ankers' cottage in the morning,to explain what had taken place, and possibly--supposing he had beensuccessful--to show the papers. Then again, if this was Durgo's work,Bella wondered why the preacher had not denounced him. It seemed to her,on this assumption, that Pence feared to say too much, lest he should bequestioned too closely. Dora certainly had no more suspicions than hadanyone else, but what the story of the young man was absolutely true.

  "He never _did_ look healthy," said Dora, when the meal was ended, "so Iam not surprised to hear that he has these epileptic fits."

  "Perhaps he'll get over them," hinted Bella feebly, and not looking ather friend, lest she should betray herself.

  "My dear, people with epilepsy never recover," rebuked Dora seriously,"and I wonder that the man dared to ask you to marry him, seeing what hesuffered from. What a terrible thing to have a husband with fits."

  "Are you sure that it was a fit?" asked Bella, trying to salve herconscience with the idea that Durgo had nothing to do with the matter--avain attempt.

  "My dear, am I sure that the hair grows on my head? Of course, I amsure. The man himself explained how he fell, just as he clutched at thebell. He hit his poor head against the iron fender--you know, dear, oneof those old-fashioned kitchen fenders, now out of date. It's a mercythere was no fire in the grate, or he would have been burnt to death.Why, a cousin of mine once"--and Dora went off into a long and wearisometale of a member of her family who had suffered in the same way.

  When the little old school-mistress returned to her duties, Bella satdown to consider things. On the face of it, Durgo had done nothing, andSilas really might suffer from fits. But as he had never fallen before,and as Bella knew that Durgo would stop at nothing to get the papers,which she believed existed, she began to believe that the fall was bydesign and not by accident. This belief taking full possession of her,she longed feverishly to see the negro, and to ask questions. But,although she watched for quite two hours at the window, he neverappeared. Then--as her nerves were strung up nearly to snappingpitch--she determined to call round at Cyril's lodgings and tell him ofher interview with the black man. For the moment, she was unwilling todo this, as she guessed that Cyril would be angry. Still, as it was moreor less certain that Durgo himself would tell her lover--alwayssupposing the papers existed and had been obtained--Bella thought itwould be wiser to be first in the field with her story. Besides, in anycase, she would have to confess to Cyril, so why not now? The onlychance of getting at the truth of the matter of the murder lay inherself and Durgo and Cyril working amicably together, and in keepingnothing back from one another.

  There was a certain amount of risk in going to Cyril's lodgings, as hislandlady, Mrs. Block, was one of the most notorious gossips in thevillage. She would be certain to talk of the visit, and to make unkindcomments on the fact of a young lady choosing to visit a bachelorwithout a chaperon. And a chaperon Bella could not have, since shewished no one else to be present during her conversation with Cyril. Athird party would mean that she would be unable to speak plainly and allknowledge of the case--inner knowledge that is--must be confined toherself, her lover, and to the negro. It would never do to let theoutside world know of the means they were taking to arrive at the truth,and a chaperon might easily play the part of a she-Judas.

  And after all--as Bella reflected, when hurrying along the road--she hadno one to consider but herself, since it mattered very little what wassaid about her, so long as Cyril was true. She was at war with heraunt--if, indeed, Mrs. Vand was her aunt--she had no friend but Dora,and there was really no person whom she desired to conciliate. Underthese circumstances, she took her courage in both hands and with a calmface, but with her heart in her mouth, she rapped at the door ofLister's lodgings. Luckily he had observed her from the window, andopened the door himself.

  "I am so glad to see you Bella," he said, shaking hands in aconventional manner, as the stout form of Mrs. Block appeared at the endof the passage, "for I was just coming round to propose a walk on thecommon."

  "It is a beautiful day," said Bella, likewise conventional.

  "Very. Wait until I get my hat and stick. Mrs. Block, if anyone calls, Iam going to the common with Miss Huxham."

  "And a very lovely sweet walk it is," said Mrs. Block, coming nearer tosee if Bella was dressed in sufficiently deep mourning for her presumedfather, "as I said to Block, if he'd only make the money a man like himought to make, I'd be strolling on that there common, dressed up as fineas nine-pence. But there, you never get what you want in this world, andain't it dreadful, Miss Huxham, about poor Mr. Pence?"

  "Very dreadful!" assented Bella politely, then as Cyril was ready, shewent with him out of the gate, leaving Mrs. Block looking after them.Luckily for the couple, Mrs. Block had nothing to say against the visit.Indeed it was in her heavy mind that Cyril, having failed to take Bellaout as promised, had been called upon by a young lady weary of waiting.

  "So like a man," soliloquised Mrs. Block, standing on her door-step,broom in hand, "they never thinks, never, never! And if this Mr. Listercommences neglect afore marriage, what will it be when the honeymoon'sover. Ah, poor Miss Huxham! what with her pa dying, and her auntrobbing, and him as should love her neglecting--it's a miserable lifeshe'll have. Ah, well, there's always the grave to look forward to," andending her soliloquy thus cheerfully, Mrs. Block entered the house andshut the door with a bang.

  Meanwhile the lovers, quite ignorant of Mrs. Block's opinion, walkedalong the village street, and soon emerged on to the common. They passedthe cottage wherein Silas Pence lodged, and this recalled the episode ofthe so-called fit to Cyril, as he had heard all particulars from hisgarrulous landlady. "I'm sorry for Pence," said Cyril, glancing at thecottage.

  "Why?" asked Bella nervously.

  "It's such an awful thing for a person to have fits. If I'd known that Ishould not have pitched him over the fence last night. Of course, he's arotter, and a blighter, and a nuisance; but he's weak, and I shouldn'thave treated him so roughly. I only hope," said Cyril gloomily, "that itwasn't the fall I gave him which brought about this beastly fit."

  "You can be quite sure of that," said Bella sharply; "in fact," shehesitated, then spoke out boldly, "I don't believe he had a fit."

  "My dearest girl, he said so himself, according to Mrs. Block."

  "I know he did, as Dora told me. And that makes me the more certain ofhis connection with the murder of my father. I suppose I must callCaptain Huxham my father until I am certain of the truth of what Mr.Pence said."

  "I don't know what you are talking about," said Cyril, stopping to stareat the down-cast, flushed face under the black hat. "Why should Pencetell a lie about his fall?"

  "Because he didn't want anyone to know that Durgo had thrown him down."

  Cyril stared harder. "Would you mind explaining?" he said politely, "Istill cannot understand your meaning."

  "I don't know that I understand myself," she replied nervously. "Thefact is, Cyril, I believe that Durgo threw Mr. Pence down when herefused to give up those papers."

  "What papers?" asked Lister, st
ill bewildered.

  "The papers which tell the truth about me."

  "But, my dear girl, that is all supposition. We don't know if any papersexist, after all. Pence may have spoken at random."

  "You believed that he spoke the truth."

  "I did. I want to believe, as only by learning that you are not CaptainHuxham's daughter can we marry," said Cyril dismally; "but the wish isfather to the thought, in my case."

  "Well," said Bella, plunging into her confession, "you had better askDurgo if he assaulted Mr. Pence last night."

  "Why should he?"

  "I asked him to."

  Cyril, who had walked on, stopped once more and stared. "You asked himto?"

  "Yes." Bella was less nervous now. "I told him all that Mr. Pence said,and suggested that he should get the papers."

  Cyril's face grew stern, as she knew it would. "Tell me everything thatpassed between you and that nigger."

  "I have not said that I saw him," said Bella evasively.

  "You could scarcely have asked him to assault Pence, unless you had seenhim," retorted Cyril, who looked displeased, "come, be frank. Tell meall."

  Bella did so, omitting nothing, although she every now and then stole aglance at Cyril's compressed lips and corrugated brow. At the end of herexplanation he looked up, and his eyes were hard. "You have acted verywrongly," he said sternly.

  "I know I have: I admit as much," said the girl penitently, "but, afterall, I only asked him to get the papers. I did not tell him to hurt Mr.Pence."

  Cyril shook his head impatiently. "You should not have seen thisinfernal nigger. I don't like any white woman to talk to niggers."

  "I don't like them myself," said Bella quietly, "and you may be sure,had I not been anxious to learn the truth, I should not have spoken toDurgo."

  "You could have asked me to speak."

  "Would you have done so, seeing that you did not believe that the papersexisted?"

  "Nor do I believe now," replied Cyril, walking on quickly. "It is allguess work on your part."

  "No, no, no!" insisted the girl, as they arrived at their favourite spotunder a giant gorse bush; "the mere fact that Mr. Pence told a lie abouthis injury shows me that I am right."

  "We don't know for certain that he met with his injury at Durgo'shands."

  "Then I have done no wrong," said Bella promptly.

  "Indeed you have," said Cyril in vexed tones, as they sat down. "Youspurred on that infernal nigger to do what was wrong."

  "I understood that you liked Durgo, and thought him a well-educatedman."

  "So I do like him; so I do consider him wonderfully well educated. He isan Oxford M.A., you know. But I daresay if you scratched him you wouldfind that he is a common nigger after all."

  "The son of a king?"

  "An African king. Pooh! what's that? You must promise me, Bella, not tohave anything more to do with him."

  "But I have promised to seek for the jewels in the Manor-house," andBella went on to state how she could enter Bleacres by the secret door.Cyril nodded and approved of the idea.

  "But you must come to me and tell me what you find out. I don't want youto speak to Durgo more than you can help."

  "That is racial instinct and injustice."

  "Racial instinct is never unjust. I don't care if Durgo was a blackHomer and Bismark and Napoleon rolled into one. He is a man of colour,and I detest the breed. Promise not to have anything to do with him--atall events unless I am present."

  "I promise if you will not scold so much," said Bella wilfully.

  "I am not scolding. If I did you would cry."

  The girl slipped her arm within that of her lover's, pleased to haveescaped so easily. "I begin to think that I am marrying a tyrant."

  "You are marrying a man who loves you, and who wants to protect you fromall dangers. Oh, Bella, Bella! I wish we could go away to London and getmarried quietly. Then we could go to Australia and leave this bad pastbehind. Will you come? I have money enough for a year, and by that timeI'll be able to get something to do in Melbourne or Sydney."

  Bella shook her head. "Dear, I love you dearly, but I can't marry youuntil I am quite sure that I am not Captain Huxham's daughter."

  "In any case," said Cyril bitterly. "You will marry the son of a man whohas committed a murder."

  "I am not so sure of that. Now that Mr. Pence has told a lie I thinkthat he may have something to do with the matter. He may be guilty."

  Cyril groaned. "I have no ill-will towards Pence, in spite of hisinsolence to you, but for the sake of my name I wish I could think so."

  There was silence for a few moments, and then Bella, who was lookingalong the path, spoke to her lover in a frightened whisper. "Here isDurgo!"

  And indeed it was. The negro swung along bluff, heavy and ponderous. Hewas in dark clothes, and these, with his black face, made him look likea blot on the sunshiny beauty of the summer world. At once, with hiskeen eyesight, he caught a glimpse of the lovers and strode towardsthem, smiling and bland. Cyril nodded coldly. He could not forgive theblack man's impertinence in speaking to Bella, quite forgetting thatBella was to blame and had sought the interview. Bella herself,remembering Cyril's warning and her own promise, did not dare to welcomethe man.

  "I went to see you," said Durgo, addressing Cyril, "and your landladytold me that you had gone to the common with Miss Huxham. I followed. Iam glad to find you both together. I have much to say."

  Bella could not contain her curiosity. "Did you----"

  "Yes," said Durgo coolly, "I did. He would have made a noise, so I hadto dash him to the ground. He hit his head against the fender. Mrs.Giles," he added with a grim laugh, "tells me that he accounts for theknock on his head by saying that he had a fit."

  "What do you make out of that?" asked Cyril, casting a glance at Bellawarning her to hold her tongue.

  "Oh"--Durgo glanced from one to the other--"so Miss Huxham has toldyou?"

  "About her interview? Yes! I am sorry you took her advice and saw Pence,for I knew that ill would come of it."

  Durgo leisurely took a bundle of papers from his pocket. "Much good hascome of it, as I am here to explain," said he quietly. "You were right,Miss Huxham. Pence had certain papers stolen from Captain Huxham'ssafe."

  "Then he is guilty of the----"

  "I can't be certain of that," interrupted the negro sharply. "I had notime to question Pence. As soon as I got the papers which he carried inhis breast-coat pocket I slipped through the window. Lucky that I didso, for his landlady came in almost immediately in answer to the ring ofthe handbell. If he hadn't sounded it I should not have rendered himinsensible, but I had to do so for my own safety."

  "Well, well, well!" said Cyril impatiently, and looking at the papers,"we can talk of this later. You say that Miss Huxham's guess iscorrect?"

  "It is. And I congratulate Miss Huxham on her clever brain. Pence wascertainly a fool to say as much as he did, and especially to so talenteda lady who guessed----"

  "There! there! No more compliments. Tell us both at once. Did he speaktruly when he stated that Miss Huxham was not the captain's daughter?"

  "He spoke absolutely truly, as you will find when you read this," andDurgo placed a bulky roll of paper in Bella's hands.

  "Oh!" she said, flushing a bright pink, "how glad I am. But whosedaughter am I?" and she made to open the paper.

  Cyril laid his hand on the bundle. "We haven't time to read all thatnow," he said gruffly. "Tell us shortly what you have discovered,Durgo?"

  The negro nodded, and addressed himself to the girl. "Your name isIsabella Faith," he stated, "and you are the daughter of Maxwell Faith,who was my father Kawal's firm friend."

  The lovers looked at one another. "But how did I come to pass as CaptainHuxham's daughter?" she asked breathlessly.

  Durgo shrugged his shoulders. "So far as I can read the story, whichCaptain Huxham has set down in that bundle you hold, he was smitten withcompunction for having murdered your father and so adopted you.
"

  Bella shuddered. "How terrible to have lived with such a wicked oldman," she said. "I never liked Captain Huxham, but thinking him myfather I tried my best to do my duty. No wonder he would not leave theproperty to me!"

  "I think he intended to leave you the jewels, though," said Durgo,thoughtfully. "He mentions in those papers that he intended to make awill leaving them to you, since his sister, Mrs. Vand, claimed Bleacresand his income. It's my opinion that Mrs. Vand learned how her brotherhad murdered Maxwell Faith, and so forced him to make that will."

  "Then the jewels really belong to you, Bella?"

  "Yes," said Durgo, rising and making a courteous bow. "And when we findEdwin Lister, my master, he shall restore the jewels."

  "But your expedition?" asked Bella in surprise.

  The negro looked at the lovers humorously. "I fear that there will be noexpedition," he said seriously. "I cannot rob you of your fortune, MissFaith. Marry our friend here and be happy."

  "But what will you do?" asked Cyril, touched by this self-abnegation.

  Durgo shrugged his shoulders again. "I shall search out Edwin Lister andreturn to Africa. In one way or another I daresay we can manage to getback to my tribe. Then I shall measure my strength and education againstmy cousin, who is wrongfully chief. For the rest, there is no more to besaid. The papers you have, Miss Faith, will prove your birth and revealall the doings of Huxham. There is no more for me to do, so I shall bidyou both good-day and wish you all good luck."

  The lovers stared to one another and then at the retreating form ofDurgo, who had so delicately left them together. It was Cyril who spokefirst.

  "He is a good fellow, after all," he said. "That black skin covers awhite heart. Oh! Bella, how strange it all is."

  "Take me home," said the girl faintly, and with white cheeks. "I canbear no more at present. Isabella Faith is my name now----"

  "Until you change it to that of Isabella Lister," said Cyril, kissingher.

  But she only wept the more, broken down by the unexpected revelation.