The Essential Writings of Marie Belloc Lowndes. Marie Belloc Lowndes

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СКАЧАТЬ close to The Chase—in fact, she was their tenant."

      "Then Mrs. Winslow was Pavely's rather than Mrs. Pavely's friend?"

      "Yes—if you care to put it that way."

      "I've very little doubt—in fact I feel quite sure, St. Amant, that Mrs. Winslow knows a great deal more about the whole affair than she has chosen to reveal. When she and I talked the whole thing over, I brought her to admit that she had heard something of this secret business arrangement between Pavely and Fernando Apra. But if she was speaking the truth—and I think she was—there was a reason for her having been told. She was herself investing a small sum in the concern."

      "The devil she was!" Lord St. Amant was very much surprised.

      "Yes, and on Pavely's advice, of course. I take it that he was on more confidential terms with this lady than he was with his own wife?"

      The other nodded, reluctantly. "Well, you must know by this time almost as well as I did that the Pavelys were not on very—well, happy terms, together!"

      Sir Angus went on: "D'you remember something I told you concerning Mr. Pavely's day at York? Even before we knew all you have heard to-day, we felt quite convinced that he'd gone down there to see the old rascal who calls himself Greville Howard. But some further information about that journey to York is in our possession."

      Lord St. Amant again nodded. There came a rather uneasy look over his face. He thought he knew the nature of the further confidence which was about to be made to him. He had never had any doubt in his own mind that Godfrey Pavely had not gone alone to Yorkshire.

      "We feel quite certain that Mrs. Winslow was with Pavely in York. He was seen there, in the company of a lady, by a business acquaintance. We've ascertained that Mrs. Winslow went, on that same day, to stay with some rather well-known people in the neighbourhood. Mind you, I'm not for a moment suggesting that there was anything wrong."

      "I wonder," said Lord St. Amant suddenly, "why Mrs. Winslow still desires the reward to be offered."

      "I think I can tell you why."

      The Commissioner of Police looked straight into the other man's eyes. "Mrs. Winslow wishes this reward to be offered because she has vague hopes of earning it herself."

      Lord St. Amant uttered an exclamation of extreme astonishment.

      The other smiled. "Yes—queer, isn't it? But, mind you, that's by no means an uncommon trait in the type of woman to which Mrs. Winslow belongs. Their motives are almost always mixed. They're subtle little devils for the most part, St. Amant. Mrs. Winslow was quite sufficiently fond of this unfortunate man to wish to avenge his death, and she also would be very glad suddenly to receive an addition to her fortune—which is, I understand, very small—of even a thousand pounds."

      He added, in a graver tone: "It seems to me that the one chance we have of influencing Mrs. Pavely is through you. And then again, the mere fact that you are one of her trustees may make a difference. Would you not have it in your power to prevent her continuing this reward?"

      Lord St. Amant shook his head very decidedly. "No, I should not feel justified in doing that, even if I had the power. As a matter of fact, she has a certain amount of money at her own absolute disposal. I may tell you that I did my best to dissuade her from offering the reward when she first made up her mind to do so—you will remember when I mean?"

      As Lord St. Amant made his way back to his own rooms, the rooms where he knew Mrs. Tropenell and Laura Pavely were now waiting for him, his mind was in a whirl of surprise and conjecture.

      Katty Winslow acting the part of amateur detective? What an extraordinary notion! Somehow it was one which would never have crossed his mind. That, no doubt, was the real reason why she had been so determined to attend the inquest. But she had not sat with Mrs. Pavely, Mrs. Tropenell, and himself. She had chosen a place in a kind of little gallery behind the jurymen, and by her side, through the whole proceedings, had sat, with his arms folded, Oliver Tropenell.

      Tropenell, since the discovery of Godfrey Pavely's body, had kept himself very much apart from the others. He had gone down to Pewsbury, and had broken the sad news to Mr. Privet—this by Laura's direct request and desire. But he had not shown even the discreet interest Lord St. Amant would have expected him to show in the newly-made widow and her affairs, and there was something enigmatic and reserved in his attitude.

      One thing he had done. He had made a great effort to prevent Laura Pavely's being put into the witness-box. He had discovered that she shrank with a kind of agonised horror from the ordeal, and he had begged Lord St. Amant to join him in trying to spare her. But of course their efforts had been of no avail. Laura, in one sense, was the principal witness. But for her receipt of the letter, the body of her husband might not have been discovered for weeks, maybe for months. Fernando Apra would only have had to send a further instalment of rent, with the proviso that his room should not be entered till he returned, for the mystery to remain a mystery for at any rate a long time.

      The funeral of Godfrey Pavely was to take place the next day in the old Parish Church of Pewsbury, where the Pavely family had a vault. The arrangements had all been left to Mr. Privet, and the only time Lord St. Amant had seen Oliver Tropenell smile since the awful discovery had been made, had been in this connection.

      "I'm very glad we thought of it," he said, "I mean that Mrs. Pavely and myself thought of it. Poor old Privet! He was one of the very few people in the world who was ever really attached to Godfrey Pavely. And the fact that all the arrangements have been left to him is a great consolation, not to say pleasure, to the poor old fellow."

      Chapter XX

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      It was the day of Godfrey Pavely's funeral, and more than one present at the great gathering observed, either to themselves or aloud to some trusted crony or acquaintance, that the banker would certainly have been much gratified had he seen the high esteem in which he was held by both the gentle and simple of the surrounding neighbourhood.

      Even Lord St. Amant was a good deal impressed by the scene. Every blind in the High Street was down—a striking mark of respect indeed towards both the dead banker and his widow. Apart from that fact, the town looked as if it was in the enjoyment of a public holiday, but even that was in its way a tribute. The streets were full of people, and round the entrance to the churchyard was a huge crowd. As for the churchyard itself, it was overflowing, and presented a remarkable rather than a touching scene. Only a few of the town-folk were still allowed to be buried in the mediæval churchyard which lay just off the High Street, so a funeral actually taking place there was a very rare event.

      The circumstances of Mr. Pavely's death had been so strange that the local paper had printed a verbatim report of the inquest, as well as a very flowery account of the departed, who had been, it was explained, so true and so loyal a townsman of Pewsbury. Yet, even so, there were those present at his funeral who muttered that Mr. Pavely had met his death just as might have been expected, through his love of money. It was also whispered that the job in which this queer foreigner had been associated with the banker had not been of the most reputable kind. This Fernando Apra—every one knew his queer name because of the big reward—had wanted to raise money for a kind of glorified gambling hell; that was the long and the short of it, after all, so much the shrewder folk of Pewsbury had already found out, reading between the lines of the evidence offered at the inquest.

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