A Crooked Path Part 64

Something about his watchful, stern eyes, his close-shut mouth, and strong, clean-shaven jaw seemed not unfamiliar to Katherine, and she was strangely struck and interested in his aspect. Mr. Newton's last words evidently reached his ear, for he answered, in deep, harsh tones, "No, Newton, I will _not_ wait!" and walked in, pausing exactly opposite the lawyer, who grew grayly pale, and starting from his seat, leaned both hands on the table, while he trembled visibly. "My G.o.d!" he exclaimed, hoa.r.s.ely; "George Liddell!"

"Ay, George Liddell! I thought you would know me."

CHAPTER XXIV.

A TRAVELLER'S STORY.

When these startling sentences penetrated to Katherine's comprehension she saw as with a flash their far-reaching consequences. Her uncle's will suppressed, his son and natural heir would take everything. And her dear boys--how would they fare?

She sat with wide-dilated eyes, gazing at the hard, displeased face of this unwelcome intruder. There were a few moments of profound silence; the old lawyer's hands, which relaxed their grasp of his chair as he looked with startled amazement at his late client's son, visibly trembled.

Liddell was the first to speak. "So you thought I was dead and out of the way," he said, with a sneer; "that nothing would happen to disturb the fortunate possessor of my father's money. I was dead and done for, and a good riddance."

"But how--how is it that you are alive!" stammered Mr. Newton.

"Oh, that I can easily account for." And he looked round for a chair.

"Yes, pray sit down," said Mr. Newton, recovering himself.

Here Katherine, with the unconscious tact of a sensitive woman, feeling how terrible it must be to find one's continued existence a source of regret to others, rose and held out her hand. "Let me, your kinswoman,"

she said, "welcome you back to life and home. I hope there are many happy years before you."

Liddell was greatly surprised. He mechanically took the hand offered to him, and looking earnestly into her face, exclaimed, "Who are you?"

"Katherine Liddell, your uncle Frederic's daughter."

He dropped--indeed, almost threw--her hand from him. "What!" he cried, "are _you_ the supplanter, who took all without an inquiry, without an effort to find out if I were dead or alive?"

"Sit down--sit down--sit down," repeated Newton, still confused. "Let us talk over everything. As to trying to find you, we never dreamed of finding you, considering that twelve, fourteen years ago we had an account of your death from an eye-witness."

"Cowardly liar! It was worth a Jew's ransom to see him turn white and drop into a chair when I confronted him the day before yesterday."

"Why did you not communicate with me on hearing of your father's death?"

"When do you think I heard of it? Do you fancy I sat down in the midst of my busy day to pore over the births, deaths, and marriages in a paper, like a gossiping woman? Kith and kin were dead to me long ago.

What did I care for English papers? What had my life or the life of my poor mother been that I should give those I had left behind a thought?"

He paused, and taking a chair, looked very straight at Katherine. "Now I shall tell you my story, once for all, to show you that there is no use in disputing my rights. You know"--addressing Newton--"how my life was made a burden to me, and that I ran away to sea, ready to throw myself into it rather than return to my miserable home. After several voyages I found myself at Sydney. A young fellow who had been my mate on the voyage out, an active, clever chap, proposed that we should start for the gold fields; so we started. It was a desperate long tramp, but we reached them at last. Life was hard and rough, and for a time we worked and worked, and got nothing. At last we found a pocket, just as we were going to give up, and having secured a fair lot of gold, we divided our gains and determined to leave the camp, which was not too safe for a successful digger, before the rest knew of our treasure-trove. We decided to trudge it to the nearest place where we could buy horses, and then to make our way to Sydney as fast as we could. Somehow it must have got out that we _had_ gold, for as the dusk of evening was closing round us on the second day of our march we were attacked by some men on horseback--bush-rangers, I suppose. We showed fight, and I was. .h.i.t in the shoulder. At the same time I stumbled over a stump, and pitched on to my head, which stunned me. Just then, it seems, the sound of horses approaching frightened the scoundrels, and they made off. My mate, not knowing whether the new-comers were friends or foes, he says, got away as fast as he could. His story is that as soon as all was still he crept back, and finding me apparently quite dead, went on to report the catastrophe at the first road-side inn he came to. _I_ believe that, thinking me dead, he took all my gold, and said precious little about me."

"His story to me," interrupted Mr. Newton, "was that he got a.s.sistance and buried your remains as decently as he could."

"What induced him to apply to you at all?"

"I do not know. I fancy it was to hand over a few small nuggets, which he said was your share of the findings, and which he took from your waistband before committing you to the grave. As he seemed frank and straightforward and quite poor, I confess I believed him, and even requested Mr. Liddell to give him some small present. He said he was going afloat again, and would sail in a few days. He had an old clasp-knife which I myself had given you, and with it a small pocket-book in which your name and my address were written in your own hand. These were tolerably convincing proofs that he at least knew you.

Moreover, there seemed no need whatever that he should have made any attempt to communicate with your people. He might have held his tongue, and no question would have been raised respecting you."

"You are right," returned Liddell, bitterly.

"And how did you escape?" asked Katherine, with eager interest.

"He--this Tom Dunford--_did_ go to the next inn and told of the attack; he even guided some men to the spot, and left _them_ to bury me, because he was obliged to hurry on to Sydney; but I believe he returned, before going to the inn, and robbed me. Anyhow I was not killed by the bullet, but stunned by the fall. Some of the fellows who came with Tom fancied I did not seem quite dead. Finally I recovered, and instead of digging for gold myself, got others to dig for me. I set up an inn and a store, with the help of an American whose daughter I married, and now I am rich enough to be a formidable foe. I have a little girl, and when my wife died I determined to realize everything, to come to England, and have the child brought up as an English lady. On the voyage home I fell in with a man--a fellow of the rolling-stone order--to whom I used to talk now and again. He turned out to be the brother of one of your clerks, and from him I heard that my father had died intestate, that my cousin had taken possession of everything, and that I was looked upon as dead.

Did you never attempt to prove the truth of Tom Dunford's story?"

"We did. I communicated with the police of Sydney, and they found that there had been a fight between bush-rangers and diggers returning from Woollamaroo at the time and place specified; moreover, that one of the diggers was killed, while the other escaped, but further nothing was known. The man who kept the inn mentioned by Dunford had made money and moved off, so the track was broken. Then all these years you made no sign. Did you not see the advertis.e.m.e.nts I put in an Australian paper?"

"No; I was far away from any town, and rarely saw any but the American papers which came to my master. Well, here I am, determined to have every inch of my rights, let who will stand in my way; and _you_"--looking fiercely into Newton's eyes--"shall be my first witness."

"I cannot deny that I recognize you," said Newton, reluctantly.

Liddell laughed scornfully. "And you?" turning to Katherine.

"I have no doubt you are my cousin George."

"Right! As to that fellow Tom--he would never have hurt me, but I am sure he robbed me, especially if he thought I was dead. His game was to hold himself harmless whether I lived or died, only he ought not to have committed himself to seeing me buried. I found him out in Liverpool, and gave him a fright, for he really believed me dead. Now, cousin, I hope you understand that I mean to take every farthing of my father's fortune. He never did me much good in my life, nor my poor mother either, and I am determined to get all I can out of what he has left behind him. But I never dreamed he could pa.s.s away without taking care that nothing should come to me. It is strange that your mother and my uncle should make no fresh attempt to discover me."

"We had looked upon you as dead for years, and my father had died before the news of your supposed murder reached us." Katherine could hardly steady her voice; she was burning to get away. "I beg you will not resent the fact of my most unconscious usurpation. I would not do anything unjust." She stopped, remembering what she _had_ done. Surely the punishment was coming quick upon her.

"Ay," said George Liddell, looking sternly at her. "It is a bitter pill for a fine lady like you to swallow, to find a ragged outcast like me thrusting you from the place you have no right to; where my poor little wild untutored girl will take her stand in spite of you all."

"From what I have heard, I do not think my father or mother ever treated you as an outcast," said Katherine, with quiet dignity; adding, as she rose to leave them, "You seem so irritated against me I will leave you with Mr. Newton, who will, I know, act as a true friend to both of us."

Mr. Newton, with a grave and troubled face, hastened after to see her to her carriage. "This is an awful blow!" he said in a low voice.

"It is, no doubt. Do you think, as he is already rich, that he might do something for the boys? Then I should not care."

"The boys!"--impatiently. "You need not trouble about them when he has the power to _rob_ you even of the trifle you inherit from your father by demanding the arrears of income since your uncle's death, as he has the right to do. Why, he can beggar you!"

"Indeed! He looks like a hard man; he is like his father."

"Well, trust me, I will do my best for you."

"I know you will," returned Katherine, pressing the old lawyer's hand as he leaned against the carriage door.

"Good-by! G.o.d bless you!" he returned; and Katherine was carried away from him. Slowly and sadly the old man ascended to his office again to confront the angry claimant, who awaited him impatiently.

Meantime Katherine was striving to think clearly, to rouse herself from the stunned, bewildered condition into which the appearance of George Liddell had thrown her, and which Mr. Newton's words increased. What was to become of Cis and Charlie if she were beggared? She could not face the prospect. There was still a way of escape left, a glimpse of which had been given to her as she listened to her cousin's vindictive utterances. If she could prevail on Errington to produce the will and a.s.sert his right, he would provide for those poor innocent boys, and never ask _her_ for any of the money she had spent. Maybe he would share with George himself. She must see Errington at once, and with the strictest secrecy. Her thoughts cleared as, bit by bit, her plan unfolded itself in her busy brain. Then she made up her mind. Touching the check-string, she desired the driver to stop at a small fancyware and stationer's shop near Miss Payne's house. Arrived there, she dismissed the carriage, saying she would walk home.

"Give me paper and an envelope: I want to write a few lines," she said to the smiling shopwoman, who knew her to be one of their best customers.

Having traced a few words entreating Errington to see her early next day--should he happen to be out or engaged--she hailed a hansome, and went as quickly as she could to his lodgings in the Temple.

It was quite different, this second visit, from the first. He now knew all, and in spite of her fears and profound uneasiness she felt a thrill of pleasure at the idea of the necessity for taking counsel with him, the prospect of half an hour's undisturbed communication, of hearing his voice, and feeling his kind forgiving glance. Still it was an awful trial too--to tell him the upshot of her dishonesty, the confusion she had wrought by her deviation into a crooked path. She was trembling from head to foot by the time she reached Errington's abode.

A severe-looking woman, a caretaker apparently, was on the stair as Katherine ascended, feeling dreadfully puzzled what to do, as she feared having to knock in vain and go away without leaving her note.

"Can you tell me if Mr. Errington is at home?" she asked, timidly, quite frightened at the sound of her own voice in so strange a place.