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

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СКАЧАТЬ that was it!” Hilda exclaimed with a laugh. “While you went into Greyson’s cottage and I was waiting for you, Arthur, a woman—a lady—came up and asked me a lot of questions about the neighbourhood. I was sorry I couldn’t give her much information, but I didn’t notice that she was like Mrs. Leparge.’’

      “She was a stranger, then?” Mavis said.

      “Evidently, because she didn’t know her way about. She was asking for Townson’s farm, and the directions for that were within my capability. Your Mrs. Grogram must have been a woman who pushed by us rather rudely, with a basket on her arm.’’

      “She doesn’t stand much on ceremony,’’ Mavis said with a smile, having a lively recollection of some of the worthy woman’s remarks, “but she seemed very sure about Mrs. Leparge. And you say your stranger was not like her?”

      “The resemblance did not strike me at the time,’’ said Hilda carelessly; “She was not in widow’s dress, you see, which makes such a difference, but she was about Mrs. Leparge’s height, and—yes—I did not think of it before, but she may have been a little like her in the face.’’

      Mavis did not pursue the subject. Evidently Mrs. Grogram had made a mistake, she told herself, in spite of her positive words, for what possible motive could Hilda have for denying that she met Mrs. Leparge if she had done so?

      Nevertheless the incident had left an unpleasant impression, and she felt by no means sorry when Arthur announced his intention of taking his fiancée for a long spin in the motor, and she was thus left free to follow her own devices.

      Motoring, Arthur’s latest hobby, had for the last few weeks threatened to supersede both painting and orchids; his new car was at present a source of unmixed joy, and so safely had he hitherto come through the perils inseparable from acting as his own chauffeur that even Lady Laura was becoming accustomed to seeing him depart without a single qualm.

      Hilda looked particularly charming in her motor array, Arthur thought as he helped her into the car. Like himself, she disdained goggles, and the little pull-on hat which she wore, which pulled low down over her forehead, enhanced rather than concealed her brilliant complexion.

      At first their progress was all that could be desired. The Manor was soon left miles behind, and Sir Arthur was loud in his praises of his new toy; then, as, regardless of regulation speed, they were swinging along over a fine stretch of level road, there was a whir, a crash, and the car came to a stop with a suddenness that sent Sir Arthur against the front of the motor.

      “Something’s wrong!” he said with a rueful countenance as he recovered himself.

      Hilda laughed mischievously, though for one moment the colour had deserted her cheeks.

      “That is certainly pretty obvious,” she said.

      Sir Arthur made no comment as he bent over the machine and carefully investigated various nuts and cranks.

      “It will take some time, I am afraid,” he said at last.

      “Fortunately we are near Overdeen, and the smith there is an intelligent sort of man and, moreover, has had a good deal of practice on breakdowns. I dare say he will be able to help me. In the meantime”—he glanced perplexedly at Hilda—“there is the village inn, and Mrs. Medway is a very decent clean sort of person. If you would let me take you there while we put this thing to rights, I dare say she would get you a cup of tea.”

      “Delicious!” Hilda exclaimed, springing out and accepting the situation with equanimity. “But you will have to let me go alone. You can’t leave the car.’’

      “The car will not move,” Arthur said grimly. “Anybody who puts that in working order before I get back will deserve the thing for his pains. Come, if you can manage it—the house is by those trees.”

      Mrs. Medway, the smiling buxom hostess of the Red Lion, received them with open arms. She placed a private sitting-room at their disposal, and while Sir Arthur went off to interview the smith she entertained Hilda with graphic descriptions of the different accidents that had occurred in the neighbourhood.

      Finally, when Sir Arthur appeared with the tidings that the smith had declared himself fully capable of managing the repairs alone, Mrs. Medway placed a luxurious tea before the young couple and left them alone.

      Sir Arthur’s eyes dwelt lovingly on Hilda as she poured out the tea and handed it to him.

      “I wonder what sort of a dinner that good woman thinks we should eat if we ate all the good things she has provided?” he said with a laugh. “Ah, Hilda, this is like a foretaste of the times that are coming!”

      “As to quantity, do you mean?” Hilda inquired demurely.

      “You know what I mean!” he went on passionately. “Of the life that we are going to share together—-of the time when we shall be alone, Hilda.”

      The girl bent her face over the tea-cup.

      “Ah! If it comes—”

      “Do not say ‘if’,” he cried. “Hilda, you do not know what this means to me.”

      The girl raised her eyes.

      “Do I not? Oh, Arthur! You must not ignore the condition I made. When my memory comes back—”

      Arthur caught her hand.

      “Memory! Memory!” he echoed in a low deep tone. “It is not your memory I want—it is you yourself, the woman I love. When you are my wife, Hilda, I too shall have no memory, for I shall remember nothing but the fact that you are mine and that we are together.”

      Hilda bit her lip nervously.

      “Oh, I wish I could remember—if I only knew my name—who my friends were!”

      “Why do you wish for other friends?” Arthur cried, pressing his lips to the hand he still held. “Am I not enough for you? Sweetheart, you have filled my life so entirely that I want no one but you! Day after day I ask myself if it can really be true—if this wonderful thing had really happened to me—that you are indeed my own!”

      Hilda drew her hand away nervously as she averted her face. Sir Arthur could see that she was very pale, but her very coldness only rendered her more attractive in his eyes.

      “Darling,” he pleaded, “don’t turn from me! If I could only make you understand how in you everything seems completed for me! There is only one thought in my mind all day—one word fills my life, and that word is—Hilda!”

      Hilda glanced round once more; her face was still pale, but a suspicion of mirth gleamed in her eyes and played round the curves of her mobile lips.

      “How about the car, and the orchids, and the Elaine?” she asked mischievously. “No, no, Arthur, your heart is not like the letter-lock of your safe! It will open for more words than one.”

      For a moment Arthur looked distinctly aggrieved. That Hilda was not a demonstrative girl, that she was inclined apparently rather to scoff at his sentiment when they were alone, he had long since discovered, but he told himself that it was a girlish caprice, that she was only delaying the day of complete surrender, and his face brightened.

      “Don’t СКАЧАТЬ