mr. george dashwood was of opinion that things at the hall were not as they used to be in the old days. in the first place he had been compelled to walk up from the station after ordering a trap to meet him on his return from longtown, and now he could see no sign of dinner. he had come downstairs in a temper, and had looked into the dining-room as he passed.
it was eight o'clock to the moment; there was no sign of dinner. the banks of ferns and the great silver bowls of roses were there, but nothing else. dashwood forgot for the moment that he was no longer master of the house, and rang the bell. slight came in presently. he was still wearing his morning coat.
"what is the meaning of this?" dashwood demanded. "i ordered a trap to meet me at the station and no trap appears. then i came back here to dinner, of which i see no sign. have the servants left the house in a body?"
"no, sir," slight replied. "we have had a trying day. in the first place the police----"
"oh, the police, have they been here? is there any clue to the mysterious attack upon mr.--er, ralph darnley? i had to go into longtown today; i did not expect to get back here till late. if your master has suddenly been called to town----"
"he has vanished, sir," slight said. "you may not be so very much surprised to hear that he was at the bottom of the attack on mr. ralph--leastways i'll speak of him as mr. ralph for the present. in a manner of speaking, it was i who found the whole thing out. perhaps it was foolish of me to do so, but i couldn't help letting that rascal know all about it. he went off in a great hurry this morning, and i for one shall be very much surprised if we ever see him again. in a manner of speaking, we are like a lot of servants in bear cages--nobody to look after us or give any orders. me and the housekeeper are doing what we can, sir, in the hopes that lady dashwood will come over tomorrow and take charge. and that's why your dinner is forgotten."
"we will let it pass," dashwood said with great magnanimity. "in the present extraordinary circumstances, i suppose that i cannot complain. if you could get me some cold chicken and salad, slight, i dare say i could manage. and perhaps you will be so good as to wait on me yourself, seeing that you are so far in the confidences of the family. and perhaps you will give me an idea of what has happened."
the salad and chicken were served presently, and the meal together with the champagne, went far to salve dashwood's wounded dignity. a cigarette completed the process.
"now tell me everything," he said. "mind you, you must be wrong as to our late host having anything to do with the outrage on ralph darnley."
"begging your pardon, sir," slight replied. "why, the thing was as good as admitted. to call him by his proper name, vincent speed saw that the game was up. mind you, servants hear a great deal more than their employers give them credit for, and i know that in some way speed was under the thumb of that scoundrel mayfield. how you could ever have tolerated him in the house, beats me, sir."
"i was also under the thumb of mayfield," dashwood murmured. "he was the sort of man who always got his own way, and he was not in the least scrupulous as to his methods. possibly he knew who speed really was."
"that's it, sir," slight said eagerly. "he was after money. well, speed found out that mr. ralph was the real heir, and that his time here was limited. i dare say speed got that information from his mother. i suppose it never occurred to the fool that both lady dashwood and myself knew who mr. ralph was."
"how did you know?" dashwood asked. "i'm sure i didn't."
"because you never met mr. ralph's father, sir. the likeness is a speaking one. the very first day that mr. ralph arrived here, i knew that you had no right to be in this house at all, sir. the same when speed came along--though i'm bound to admit that he took me in at first."
"but the whole thing is inexplicable," dashwood said irritably. "why this masquerade? why was speed permitted to oust me at all? and why did i remain here?"
slight had his opinion, but it was not his plan to utter this. he shook his head with an air of wisdom. perhaps miss mary could explain that part. at any rate, if she could not do so, lady dashwood could solve the problem.
"well, it really doesn't matter," dashwood exclaimed. "get on with your story. what had speed to do with the disgraceful attack on ralph darnley?"
"he struck the blow, sir," slight proceeded. "the murderous plot was arranged between speed and mayfield. it was necessary to get mr. ralph out of the way, and they determined to do it. for that purpose mr. ralph was invited to dine at the hall. the game was to get him out of the way in such a manner as would not throw the slightest suspicion on those ruffians. they picked out you, sir, to be their witness as to the fact."
"but they were not out of the house," dashwood protested. "neither of them left the dining-room till bedtime, and we all went to bed together. and speed had such a dreadful bilious attack that he was good for nothing. i have no reason to love either of those fellows, but i should be compelled to exonerate them."
"it was clever," slight admitted. "at the same time, it was speed who did it. he sat behind the screen over yonder, sir, but the window leading to the balcony was open. perhaps you will call to mind how mayfield left the table to fetch his cigar case. then he came back with a message to the effect that lady dashwood wanted to see mr. ralph on his way home. i have had it from her ladyship's lips that she sent no message of the kind. still, the supposed message had the desired effect for it took mr. ralph past the balcony; speed had only to pop out and knock him on the head, which he did. all the time you thought that he was simply sitting in the armchair behind the screen."
"incredible, but possible," dashwood murmured. "go on, slight."
"well, sir, i was frightened. i felt that there was something dark going on, and i didn't go to bed. i came downstairs and found mayfield drinking whisky and soda not long before daylight. and his dress slippers were all over dirt. i got hold of speed's pumps, too, and they were as bad. that told me a story. i made walters get up, and together we began a search. at the foot of one of the oak trees in the park we found mr. ralph. though it had been raining at the time he left here, his clothes were quite dry, though we found him nearly half a mile from the house. then i knew quite well that the body had been carried there. the pockets being turned out was only to make it look like robbery. and i taxed speed with it. i gave him chapter and verse for everything, and he's gone. and, what's more, i know what his game is. i got that from the telegrams he sent and the timetable he left about. he's gone to weymouth on his way to jersey. when he reaches weymouth, he'll charter a fishing boat to take him as far as jersey. it's no great distance, and for a little time he will be safe there. from jersey he can easily get across to granville by a sailing boat."
the more dashwood thought this over the more was he disposed to agree with the old servant. it was good, at any rate, to know that he was no longer likely to suffer at the hands of mayfield, for that rascal would have to fly also. no doubt speed had given his fellow-conspirator a hint of what had happened, and that by this time he, too, was on his way to some place of safety. with these thoughts uppermost in his mind, dashwood walked across the park in the direction of the dower house.
it was not yet dark, and lady dashwood was walking in the garden. there was a look of peace and happiness on her face that dashwood had never seen there before. it was, at any rate, a good omen as to the progress of the patient.
"i have been having a long talk with slight," dashwood explained. "he has been giving me some astounding information. i have been in longtown all day, and when i came back speed had vanished. and slight had afforded very cogent reasons for his disappearance. only i am. utterly in the dark as to why ralph darnley has behaved in this way. slight suggests that you know."
"i do," lady dashwood smiled. "it is a very pretty story, and i think that even you will be touched when it comes to be told. in the meantime, there is one thing that i will ask you to do--please say nothing to mary as to who ralph really is till you have permission."
"i can promise that all the more readily because i am not likely to see mary," dashwood said in a grieved tone. "the child has behaved very badly to me; she seems to forget that i am her father. so long as she remains in london----"
"she is not in london, george. she has come back, and so far as i can judge, is not in the least likely to return to london again. directly she heard of ralph's accident, she came here at once to nurse him. do not forget that she owes her life to ralph. and do not forget that he loves the very ground she walks on. if my memory serves me correctly, he told you as much when you were doing your best to sell your child to that scoundrel mayfield. if you refrain from interfering, that romance will end happily."
"by jove, you don't mean it?" dashwood cried. visions of himself, comfortably housed and fed at dashwood, rose before his eyes. it was not quite like being the master of the house, but it was the next best thing. "what a fortunate circumstance! really, my dear lady, i appear to be luckier than i deserve."
