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

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      At the first sound of his voice the figure started violently; the dark cloak fell back and he caught sight of a white dress beneath. Instinct told him that this was no common tramp or wayfarer. He went forward, raising his hat courteously.

      “I beg your pardon. I fear you are in trouble. Can I do anything?” he said.

      The woman raised herself slowly to her feet, and he saw that she was above the common height; another glance told even his unpractised masculine eyes that the cloak slipping from her shoulders was a distinctly fashionable garment, and that the white dress underneath was just such a frock as those in which Mavis and Dorothy were wont to appear.

      She turned to him with a forlorn gesture.

      “What am I to do? I do not know where I am. I have lost my way.”

      There was a quiver in the clear pathetic tones.

      All the chivalry in Arthur’s nature was aroused.

      “You will allow us to do what we can,” he said quickly. “My mother—Lady Laura Hargreave—is waiting in the carriage just below. If you will allow me to take you to her, later on we shall be delighted to see that you arrive safely at your destination.”

      She gazed at him a moment, then she spread out her hands.

      “That is it,” she said with an irrepressible sob, “I have forgotten where I was going! I cannot remember—anything!”

      She swayed slightly, her voice failed, she staggered and would have fallen. Hargreave sprang forward and caught her in his arms.

      “You are ill!” he cried anxiously.

      “Oh, I don’t know!” she gasped. “I—I think I am dying!”

      Sir Arthur felt that she was resting a dead weight against his breast, and all his sympathy was called forth by her evident distress. As he gazed down at the white face with its exquisitely moulded features, at the wealth of golden hair lying across his coat, such a thrill ran through his pulses as he had never experienced in all his mild affection for Dorothy. Gathering the slender form in his arms, he turned back to the carriage.

      Lady Laura was leaning out.

      “Oh, my dear boy, what is it?” she asked in evident perturbation. “We heard voices, but who—”

      “It is a lady—she has lost her way,” Sir Arthur said breathlessly as he laid his burden in the carriage. “We must take her to the house, mother. I think she has fainted; when she recovers she will be able to explain matters.’’

      “What could she be doing in the park?” Lady Laura went on helplessly, while Mavis and Dorothy, with ready sympathy, were settling the helpless girl more comfortably and chafing her cold hands.

      “She has lost her way; she was too far gone to tell me any more,” Arthur said briefly. “Shall I tell Jervis to drive on, mother?”

      “Well, I suppose so,’’ Lady Laura said, perforce resigning herself to the inevitable. “Though really—”

      “She is well dressed,’’ Dorothy said presently in a puzzled tone. “But what could she be doing wandering about alone at this time of night, Aunt Laura?”

      Lady Laura made a gesture as if washing her hands of the whole affair.

      “I have no idea indeed, my dear.”

      “She is better,” Mavis said quickly as the carriage drew up at the door of the Manor. “See, she is opening her eyes! Get some brandy, Arthur,” as her brother came round. “She will be able to walk in a minute or two.”

      “I could help her—”

      “No, it will be better to wait,” Mavis said decidedly. “The brandy, please.”

      She held it to the girl’s lips and saw that a few drops were swallowed and that a tinge of colour was returning to the pale face before she spoke again.

      “You are better now, aren’t you?” Dorothy said gently as the stranger opened her eyes again and made an ineffectual attempt to rise.

      “I—I think so,” she said unsteadily. “I should like to—”

      “Now we will help you indoors,” Mavis interrupted quickly. “You can tell us all about it then.”

      Sir Arthur held out his arm, and with Mavis’s help on the other side the girl managed to walk into the hall, sinking with a pretty gesture of thanks into one of the big oaken chairs.

      Lady Laura, looking perplexed and doubtful, waited near the door, the old butler and the footman, discreetly unconscious, hovered around. Dorothy knelt down and rubbed the chilly white fingers.

      Presently the girl looked at her in a puzzled fashion and sat up.

      “Where am I? I don’t understand,” she began, gazing around with bewildered eyes.

      “This is Hargreave Manor,” Mavis said gently. “Were you trying to make your way here when we found you?”

      “No, I think not,” the girl said unsteadily. “I don’t know the name at all. I was under a tree—it was damp and cold—” She looked round in a vague troubled way that went straight to Lady Laura’s heart and dispelled certain misgivings as to the wisdom of the course to which she felt committed.

      “You are not well, I think, my dear,” she said gently. “Will you let us know your name so that we can communicate with your friends? And, —Mavis, tell them to make the pink room ready.”

      The stranger’s big blue eyes filled with tears; she pulled her hands from Dorothy’s gentle clasp and thrust back her mass of golden hair.

      “My name—” she faltered. “I don’t know—I don’t seem to remember anything at all, except that I was all alone and cold and tired.” Her lips quivered pitifully. “Perhaps,” glancing appealingly at Lady Laura, “it will all come back in a little while. I—I don’t feel very well just now.”

      Lady Laura’s face as she glanced at Mavis was very grave, but her voice sounded reassuring as she gently touched the shaking hands.

      “You will be better after a night’s rest, my dear, and be able to tell us all about yourself. For the present don’t try to think of anything; just lie back and put your feet on this stool and try to rest.”

      She laid a thick rug over her and turned aside, drawing her son with her to the other side of the hall.

      “Arthur, one of the men must ride over for Dr. Grieve, and then as soon as her room is ready we must get her to bed. Whoever she is she will have to stay the night here.”

      “Certainly!” Sir Arthur acquiesced warmly. “I will send James off at once.”

      “Oh, yes. Poor girl!” Lady Laura assented, with a little reserve. “She must be staying at one of the houses round here, but I cannot imagine what has happened to her. However, no doubt Dr. Grieve will be able to enlighten us. She is very pretty, Arthur.”

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