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

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СКАЧАТЬ haste now, Jim.”

      “You will be in time enough,” the man said, detaining her. “Miss Mavis was sitting with Mr. Davenant when we came out. I’ll warrant she won’t be thinking about the time. What is the story about Mr. Davenant’s brother, Minnie? I have heard there is queer talk about him, that he daren’t come back to the country.”

      “It is years since it happened,” Minnie said slowly, “and I don’t rightly understand it. But I believe he had a quarrel with somebody over cards, and it ended in Mr. Walter Davenant shooting the other. They say he would have to stand his trial for murder if he came home. Folk said her ladyship wouldn’t think Mr. Garth good enough for Miss Mavis because he was only the younger son, but if Mr. Walter can’t come back Mr. Garth is as good as the eldest, I say.”

      “Just as good,” Mr. Gregory acquiesced. “And they seem to be very fond of one another—he and Miss Mavis—though he is so much older. But I haven’t heard half I wanted, Minnie; you’ll be at the same place as last night about nine o’clock?”

      The girl hesitated.

      “Oh, I don’t think I dare.”

      “There will be no one at home tonight,” urged Jim. “And I must see you again. Say you will come, Minnie?” coaxingly.

      “Well, if I can,” Minnie conceded. “Oh, Jim, there is Sir Arthur—he wants you!”

      She tore herself away and ran down the path leading to the back of the house.

      Jim touched his hat as he went towards the tall, fair young man who beckoned to him.

      “Yes, Sir Arthur.”

      “I have been round to the houses just now,” Sir Arthur said with a frown, “and I scarcely think there is enough ventilation in the first. I shall send for Slater in the morning. And the renanthera want sponging; the sphagnum was quite dry. You must be more careful, my man, or—”

      Jim touched his hat again.

      “I will go at once, Sir Arthur,” he said.

      Sir Arthur turned back to the Manor with a nod. His orchid-houses were his latest hobby—a very expensive one, as he was finding—and his frown deepened as he recalled the cost of some of his failures.

      Hargreave Manor was a low, rambling house, built for the most part of grey stone; the centre and main portion were generally ascribed to the early Stuart or late Tudor period, though local tradition assigned it an even earlier date. Since that time successive Hargreaves had added a story there, a room here, until they had succeeded in producing a structure which, delightful as it was to its possessors, was the despair of archaeologists. To its architectural deficiencies, however, Time had been very kind, throwing over them a rich veil of jasmine and clematis, of ivy and Virginia creeper, until in mellow autumn the hoary walls were covered with a crimson glory. But to-day, in the cool spring twilight, the tender green leaves were unfolding themselves, the tiny clinging tendrils catching at the rough old stones.

      The front door stood hospitably open; it was a fancy of Lady Laura Hargreave, who acted as chatelaine for her son, to make a sitting-room of the wide, low hall, and in winter tea was always served there, by the big open hearth.

      Sir Arthur’s face brightened as he stepped in and saw a tall, slight girl playing with two great wolf-hounds which were leaping up and caressing her boisterously.

      “Why, Dorothy!” he began, as he crossed quickly to her. “This is an unexpected pleasure. How did you get here? Down, Hero! Down, Lion!”

      “The dears! They knew me directly,” Dorothy Hargreave said with a laugh. “And they were so pleased to see me, weren’t you, Hero?” laying her soft cheek against the dog’s velvet skin. “You did not ask me how I got here first thing, did you, Lion?”

      Sir Arthur looked amused.

      “If a certain young lady arrives a week sooner than she promises isn’t it likely that her affectionate cousin will inquire how she managed to surmount the two miles from the station?” he demanded jestingly. “You haven’t shaken hands with me yet, Dorothy!”

      “Oh, haven’t I?” his cousin said carelessly, though her colour deepened perceptibly, and her soft brown eyes drooped as she laid her hand in his.

      Dorothy Hargreave was the orphan daughter of Sir Arthur’s uncle and predecessor, the Sir Noel who had been High Sheriff in his year. Though she was the child of the elder brother she was several years the baronet’s junior, and her spirit and vivacity, with her lonely position, had combined to make her since her mother’s death the pet and plaything of her cousins. Sir Arthur had with the title inherited the entailed estates, but Dorothy’s father had naturally left his daughter everything that was in his power; and as a consequence his successor had found himself considerably crippled as regards money affairs. His long minority however—for the unwritten family law of the Hargreaves enforced by Sir Noel delayed the coming of age of the heir until he was five-and-twenty—gave the estates time to recover themselves. The Lockford gossips, moreover, had long since made up their minds that matters would eventually be straightened out in the old time-honoured fashion—the heiress would marry her cousin, Sir Arthur, and title and money would come together again.

      The cousins were excellent friends, though of late Dorothy’s gaiety had given way to a curious embarrassment when Sir Arthur was in the room. Hargreave himself had known ever since his accession to the title that it had been his uncle’s great wish that he should marry Dorothy, and he had always held himself, to a certain extent, bound by it; but so far he had shown no disposition in any way to place the affair on a different footing. Dorothy was very young, he told himself; it was only fair that she should see more of the world before she pledged herself, and he was by no means anxious to resign his bachelor liberty. But to-night his eyes softened as he watched the girl, as she stood alternately caressing and teasing the two hounds.

      “I am very glad to see you too Dorothy,” he said softly.

      “Are you?” Dorothy’s ready tongue for once seemed to have deserted her. “I am afraid I have upset Aunt Laura’s plans a little by my unexpected appearance, though,” she went on, with an effort, “but Mrs. Danver’s infant developed measles, and we all had to leave at a moment’s notice. I really had no choice but to take you by storm. Besides, I wanted to congratulate Mr. Davenant.”

      Hargreave smiled at her.

      “And incidentally Mavis?”

      “I must wait and see what he is like in his new character first.’’

      “Were you surprised to hear the news?”

      She shrugged her shoulders.

      “They always seemed to be quarreling.”

      “A sure sign, I am told,” Hargreave said quietly.

      “A sign of what?” willfully.

      “Of love. Come and sit down, Dorothy. I want to hear what you have been doing.”

      He drew forward one of the big oak chairs.

      “The Manor will be dull without Mavis. We shall have to persuade you to stay with us, Dorothy.”

      The girl made no reply; her face was turned away. Hargreave could СКАЧАТЬ