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

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СКАЧАТЬ hands were trembling and took courage. “Are you sure, Arthur? Suppose I tried orchids or motor or Elaine?”

      “Elaine means Hilda to me,” he smiled, entering into the spirit of her jest. “You might try that and be successful.”

      “Isn’t it strange?” Hilda said abruptly, her mind evidently wandering from Sir Arthur’s love-making. “I know I have seen one of those letter-locks before, and I cannot tell where or what the word was. I wonder whether it was the same as yours?”

      “Hardly likely, I think,” Sir Arthur said quickly. “Don’t try to remember, Hilda. Memory is more likely to come back if you do not try to strain it.”

      Already the look of helpless bewilderment that he had learned to dread was coming into the girl’s face; she leaned forward and put her hands over her eyes.

      “Oh, I thought the cloud was lifting then! Just for a moment I seemed to have a vision of what had been — and—now—now it is all dark again!”

      Sir Arthur felt desperate—consolation seemed impossible when these moods of depression overtook Hilda. He laid his hand on her shoulder.

      “It will come all right some day.”

      The girl stirred impatiently.

      “It—I seemed to see it all then; and now, with the letters, it has all faded away. But it is near—so near. Arthur”—looking at him with eyes once more filled with tears—“if I could only remember that word I feel sure that everything would come back, and something seems to tell me that it is the same as yours.”

      “I do not think it is very likely, dear. Ours is a very ordinary little word, and so far as I know it has never been altered.”

      Hilda’s lips quivered pitifully.

      “If I could only find out, Arthur! If you love me, help me—tell me yours.”

      My darling, it has always been kept a dead secret, and it could not possibly—”

      Hilda’s face seemed to quiver all over into sobs.

      “Such a little thing, and you said you loved me; and it is so near—so near! Then all would be clear, and we could be happy as we never can be till I know.”

      “Hilda, dearest!” Arthur bent over her.

      She pushed him away and buried her face in her hands.

      “Oh, how can I make myself remember? It will kill me!”

      Arthur put his arms round her and drew her, still resisting, to his heart.

      “If the word will help you, sweetheart, you shall know it. And after all it is not breaking the rule, for you and I are to be one—you are to be my second self!”

      “Yes, yes!” Hilda whispered, her arms stealing for one instant round his neck. “Ah, so soon, Arthur— when I know!”

      “It is such a simple word,” Arthur went on; ”just ‘m—i—n—e’—mine, you see, only we spell it backwards—‘e—n—i—m.’—That is all the secret, Hilda. Now does it help you, dear?”

      “I don’t know. Wait a minute,” the girl said slowly, her head still resting on his shoulder, her perfumed hair sweeping across his face and intoxicating his senses. “It—Oh, Arthur, I see a tall man with white hair! I remember him—he was my father, my dear father! And they called him General—General—Oh, it is going! I can’t remember—”

      There was a knock at the door.

      “If you please, Sir Arthur, the man has brought your car round,” said Mrs. Medway, discreetly averting her eyes from the young couple, whose confusion was plainly evident. “He says he hopes as you will be able to manage it home all right now.”

      Chapter XVIII

       Table of Contents

      “Are the Pontifexes coming down?”

      “I think so. All our friends have been very kind; but, Garth, though we have looked forward to Arthur’s coming of age all this time, now that it is at hand I don’t seem to care—it is all spoilt.”

      Mavis’s eyes were very troubled as she glanced up at her tall lover and she watched his dark face anxiously in the pause that followed.

      Garth’s eyes wandered from her to the other side of the room, where Hilda sat with Sir Arthur, leaning forward in a pretty attitude of attention and listening to him with her eyes fixed on his face, a diamond star, Arthur’s latest gift, sparkling in her gleaming hair.

      “I am very sorry, dearest,” he said slowly at last, “but from the first I have seen that this—this infatuation of Arthur’s could only bring trouble.”

      “Poor mother has to accept it because Arthur is so determined,” Mavis went on, “but it is worrying her dreadfully, and she is getting quite thin. She is so disappointed because it means the downfall of her dearest hopes. Still, after all”—in a brighter tone—“one must not always look at the dark side of things. Mother doesn’t really dislike Hilda, and if everything should turn out satisfactory about her I dare say she will be happy enough about the match after all.”

      “I hope so.”

      But neither Garth’s countenance nor tone was expressive of confidence, and the momentary gleam of brightness in Mavis’ face faded away.

      “You do not think so. Garth, you have not heard— I have not told you that yesterday just for a moment Hilda had a flash of memory? She remembered her father—a tall old man with white hair—and she said they called him General; but it all faded away before she could remember the name.”

      “That was unfortunate.” A curious smile played for a moment round Garth’s mouth. “I gave myself a holiday on Tuesday, Mavis.”

      The girl looked at him in surprise at the sudden change of subject.

      “Did you? Where did you go? I thought you said you were so much occupied just now. Why, you said you were so busy that you could hardly spare the time to come down here!”

      “So I was—so I am busy,” Garth said imperturbably; “but I was determined to make time for this. I went down to Brighton.”

      “To Brighton?” Mavis did not look quite pleased.

      “Yes. I wonder whether you will be surprised to hear that my visit was to the superintendent of police there.”

      “Oh, Garth! Does that mean that you have discovered anything—that you have found Hilda’s—”

      “I found out one thing,” Garth went on, “that no daughter of Mrs. Leparge’s has disappeared from a Brighton school. The whole story, as far as Brighton is concerned, is an entire fabrication.”

      “Garth, how could you—”

      “It was СКАЧАТЬ