on to the balcony that ran along the whole of that side of the house, moved by an impulse of curiosity that it was impossible to resist. A light burned dully, as if from behind drawn curtains at the end of the balcony, picking out a bush of crimson roses on the lawn below. The gleam came from Draycott’s window, as Alice knew quite well. It would be no hazardous matter to go along the balcony and ascertain what was taking place inside. It seemed to the girl that she was justified. The dark mystery involved her future happiness, and possibly even more than that. A glimpse of the pin-points of flame from the windows of the prison decided her. She would find out what was passing in the room at the end of the balcony. Snatching up a long black cloak and extinguishing the light in her room, a moment later she was listening to the sound of voices in Draycott’s room. The window was closed and the blind drawn. All Alice could hear was a confused murmur. The two men were disputing over something, and a violent quarrel seemed to be in progress. There was a noise presently, as if a chair had been overturned, then a shadow pantomime on the blind indicated a struggle. Somebody suddenly burst out into a peal of laughter.
“Grenfell!” a voice cried. “Go and ask Hugh Grenfell! He’s the man to tell you all about it. He stood in this very room and told me to my face that I was a scoundrel. I told him he should pay for that, and by heavens, he has. Ask Hugh Grenfell!”
It was Draycott who spoke. He shouted the name again and again at the top of his voice, till the room rang with it—the mere mention of it filled him with drunken amusement.
“You fool,” Moler hissed. “You thrice-besotted fool, be silent. Do you want the whole world to hear that story? If any of the servants are listening——”
“Let ‘em listen,” Draycott chuckled. “You’re too cautious, Moler—that’s what’s the matter with you my boy. You’re very cunning and very clever, but not half so clever as I am. What you lack is imagination. Ask Hugh Grenfell!”
He yelled out the name once more, followed by a crackle of laughter. Alice distinctly heard the curse that broke from Moler’s lips. A chair fell over with a crash, Draycott burst out into a spasm of rage, then there ensued a prolonged silence. The blind was flung up, the window was opened, and Moler stepped out. He wiped his heated face, as Alice could see from her hiding-place behind a tub of flowers. He had something in his hand that glittered in the moonlight. Alice’s heart almost ceased to beat, but she had no real cause for fear—the shining thing was nothing but a hypodermic syringe.
“That dose will keep his fool’s tongue quiet till to-morrow,” Moler muttered. “But for my presence here the whole thing would have been exposed before now. Yet he hates me like poison. Well, let him go on hating me—I am indifferent to his anger. I should have gone long ago but for the little girl. What an idiot I am to stay here! I should have taken my share of the plunder and left him to his fate. And here I stay for the sake of a pair of grey eyes and a mass of golden hair like spun sunshine. And she hates me worse——”
Moler withdrew sullenly to the bedroom and pulled down the blind. Red and hot and trembling in every limb, Alice crept back to her room again. After all she had seen and heard she supposed she would never be able to sleep again. She lay down on her bed from force of habit and closed her eyes to think——
When she awoke the sun was high in the heavens and breakfast was a thing of the past. Draycott had sent a message to the effect that he had had a restless night and would keep to his room for a day or two. Moler was busy, and excused himself. He would prefer to take his meals with his patient, he said.
Alice was not disappointed to hear it. The more freedom she had from these men the better. She wondered why she stayed at all. She had means of her own, money that nobody could touch, and her affairs were ordered and regulated by the Court of Chancery. The Court had been satisfied in the first instance to let Draycott take up the position of guardian rendered void by the death of Martin Faber. So far as anybody knew, Draycott was a man of substance, having inherited what appeared to be a fine estate, together with a large sum of money. At that time Alice was too young to trouble about such matters. One guardian was much the same as another.
She was old enough now to make application to the Court and have all this changed. She had a number of friends, whom she could visit, but she did not care to do that without returning their hospitality. She was free to ask whom she liked to Rawmouth Park, because, despite his faults, Draycott was not a mean man. But it was impossible to take advantage of this generosity. Alice had tried it once with disastrous results, and was not likely to repeat the experiment.
There was another reason why she had decided to remain for the present. Hugh Grenfell was not far off. She would get to the bottom of his story some day. The affair had happened when she was on the Continent. She did not believe anything she was told so far as Hugh was concerned. Draycott had, she thought, gone out of his way to conceal the truth from her.
“At any rate I’ll stay here till the autumn,” she told herself. “I don’t think I could remain in the house another winter. Summer is a different matter, and there are things to discover. I am certain that Mr. Draycott could tell me all about Hugh, if he liked. That dreadful creature Moler is unspeakable, but for Hugh’s sake——”
She walked into the garden amongst the flowers. It was usually her custom at this time of year to eat an apple or peach before breakfast. At the bottom of the kitchen garden she found Jane Mason. The latter started as if she had been caught doing something wrong.
“What is the matter?” Alice asked. “Jane, what are you doing?”
The housekeeper smiled faintly, and the color crept back into her cheeks again.
“I’ve the most dreadful headache that ever was, miss,” she explained. “I’ve had a good many of ‘em lately. I couldn’t eat my breakfast, and I fancied some fruit. Nothing like an apple to cure a headache, I say.”
She rambled on quickly and nervously, as if talking for the sake of talking. Alice saw how her hands were shaking, and laid her fingers on the woman’s arm.
“Your nerves are in a dreadful state,” she said. “Well, I am not surprised, Jane. If you leave this house you will be ever so much better. I’m thinking of going myself.”
Astonishment, mingled with fear, struggled for the mastery in Jane Mason’s face.
“You don’t mean it, miss,” she gasped. “And yet why not? You’re young and have the world before you. Whereas I’m getting on towards the finish. It doesn’t matter as far as I’m concerned. But for a pretty young lady to be wasting her life in this horrible house——”
She paused, conscious that she was saying too much. Alice faced round on her.
“You know a good deal, if you will only speak,” she said.
“He has had one of his attacks and didn’t come down to breakfast, and one of the maids heard Dr. Moler say that he will not be able to appear for some days to come. I swear that’s all I know, miss.”
Alice concealed the satisfaction that thrilled her. To breakfast alone was a pleasure. She escaped from the house presently for a long ramble over the moor. The day was fair and bright the air invigorating. She walked on and on till the grey walls of Dartdale were in sight. Down below in the quarries gangs of convicts were at work. She could see them moving, about and hear the click of picks and the orders of the armed warders. A feeling of pity for these outcasts filled her heart. There was a gang somewhat apart from the rest, excavating amongst the gorse and heather. A warder sat on a rock watching them. Alice observed that he had dropped his rifle and that his face had fallen forward on his hands. There was something in the attitude of the man that disturbed her. The
