Annie Haynes Premium Collection – 8 Murder Mysteries in One Volume. Annie Haynes

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СКАЧАТЬ men came round the corner of King's Street, walking quickly; the sightseers brought them to a standstill.

      "Hullo, what is this?" one of them exclaimed. "Oh, I see, a wedding. Well I suppose we shall get through somehow."

      Both men, though they wore the conventional frockcoat and silk hat, had the look of travellers, or colonials, with their thin bronzed faces. The foremost of the two had reached the last line of waiting spectators, and was just about to cross the red carpet that was laid up the steps of the church and under the awning. The policeman put up a warning hand, some guests were alighting, another car took its place before the kerb. A group of maidservants, with baskets of flowers, stood immediately before the two strangers. The man behind turned his head idly as a big dark man sprang from a car and handed out a tall exquisitely dressed woman. Together they came up the steps and passed close to the stranger, but the beautiful eyes did not glance at him, did not note the change that swept over his face.

      He, looking after them, caught his breath sharply, incredulously. Then as they passed into the church he leaned forward and touched the arm of one of the maids.

      "Can you tell me the name of the lady who has just gone in?"

      The maid looked a little surprised at being spoken to, but the tone was unmistakably that of a gentleman; there was an obvious desire for information in his expression; she answered after a moment's hesitation:

      "That was Lady Carew and Sir Anthony, sir!"

      "Sir Anthony and Lady Carew," he repeated in a musing tone, a curious brooding look in his light eyes. "Not Carew, of Heron's Carew, surely—mad Carew as they used to call him?"

      "Yes, sir. He is Sir Anthony Carew, of Heron's Carew."

      "And she, who was she before her marriage?"

      There was something compelling about his gaze. The girl answered unwillingly:

      "She was his sister's—Miss Carew's—governess, sir."

      "Ah!" He turned away abruptly.

      His companion leaned forward:

      "Are you going on, old man? Hang it all, if you stay here much longer we shall be late for our appointment, and then—"

      "I am not going on." The first man's tone was decisive. "You can manage by yourself, Jermyn. Perhaps I may join you later."

      His friend looked at him and shrugged his shoulders resignedly.

      "Well, you always were a queer sort of fellow. We shall meet later at Orlin's, I suppose. So long, old man."

      He disappeared in the crowd. The other scarcely seemed to hear him. He kept his place in the forefront of the spectators, his eager eyes seeking amid the shadows and the dimness of the church, for one graceful figure. He did not notice that the other man had turned, and was now waiting behind him. At last the service—elaborately choral—was over, the organ pealed out the Wedding March, bride and bridegroom with their attendants came forth, and still those light eyes kept their watch on the interior of the church.

      The guests followed, some of them found their carriages without difficulty; others stood waiting in the porch talking and laughing to one another. Sir Anthony and Lady Carew were among the first to come out. Their footman touched his hat:

      "If you please, Sir Anthony, something has gone wrong with the car; it is just round King Street. Jenkins can't get it to move. Shall I call a taxi?"

      "Yes, no. Wait a minute." Sir Anthony looked anxious. The big green Daimler was his latest toy. He turned to his wife: "I must see what is wrong myself, I won't be a moment, Judith, or would you rather go on at once?"

      "Certainly not. I would much rather wait. I hope it is nothing serious, Anthony."

      As Lady Carew smiled, it was noticeable that the whole character of her face altered. In repose it was cold, even a little melancholy, but the smile revealed unexpected possibilities, the big hazel eyes melted and deepened, the mouth softened into new curves. She stood back a little as Sir Anthony hurried off, a tall graceful-looking woman in her exquisite gown of palest grey chiffon velvet, with the magnificent sables that had been her husband's wedding gift thrown carelessly round her. Against the neutral tints of her background, against the deep tone of her furs, her clear delicate skin looked almost transparent. Her face was oval in shape, with small perfectly formed features, the eyes were remarkable, big and haunting, of a curious grey blue in the shadows which yet held yellow specks that shone in the sunlight, that danced when she laughed. Set under broad level brows, they had long black lashes that contrasted oddly with the pale gold of her hair.

      One woman paused as she passed.

      "How perfectly sweet Peggy looked, Lady Carew! Quite the prettiest bridesmaid of them all."

      Lady Carew's smile lighted up her face; she was obviously pleased as she murmured some inaudible reply.

      The pale-eyed man was just behind her now. As she turned aside again he stepped out of the crowd and touched her arm.

      "Judy!"

      An extraordinary change passed over Lady Carew's face as she heard the voice, as she turned and met the man's gaze. Every drop of blood seemed to recede from her cheeks, leaving her white as death; only her eyes looked alive as she stared at him, even her lips were blue.

      "You!" she said slowly in a hoarse whisper. "You!"

      "Yes, I." The man placed himself a little before her, so that in a measure he screened her. "At last I have found you, Judy!"

      "But you—I thought you were dead." Her eyes were strained upon his face in an agony of appeal.

      "So I should suppose," the man said roughly with a short, hard laugh, his pale eyes burning with an inward fire as they wandered over the lovely face, the graceful svelte form of the woman before him. "But I am not dead, Judy. On the contrary I am very much alive, and—I have come home for my own, Judy."

      "Your own!" Judith Carew repeated, slowly. Her face vas like a death-mask now, but the eyes—the big, luring eyes—were living as they focused on the man's bronzed face, as they drew forth some dreadful meaning. She gave a low hoarse sob. "Your own—my God!"

      The pale eyes grew suddenly apprehensive, but the harsh tone did not soften.

      "You know what I mean well enough. When shall I find my Lady Carew at home to me, Judy?"

      "Never." She shot the word out quickly. "You shall never enter my husband's house. I will kill myself first."

      Sir Anthony was coming back. They could see his tall figure towering over the heads of others, here and there he was stopped by a cheery word of greeting; they could hear his laugh. The pale-eyed man looked at the trembling woman.

      "I must see you again and to-day—where?"

      She shook her head. "I don't know," she said with difficulty. "I have told you you shall not come into his house."

      Sir Anthony was on the top step now, only a few paces away. A tall woman in an outré costume of vieux rose had stopped him; the two were laughing and talking like old friends.

      The echo of his light laugh, the sound of a careless word made Judith, waiting in her misery, catch СКАЧАТЬ