The Crimson Blind Part 66

"My uncle is in Paris," she said. "So I am going over to Longdean for a few days. Lord Littimer is there, and Frank also. The reconciliation is complete and absolute. Chris says the house is not the same now, and that she didn't imagine that it could be so cheerful. Reginald Henson--"

"My dear child, Henson is not there now."

"Well, he is. He went there last night, knowing that he was at his last gasp, with the idea of getting more money from Lady Littimer. To his great surprise he found Littimer there also. It was anything but a pleasant interview for Mr. Henson, who was finally turned out of the house. It is supposed that he came back again, for they found him this morning in the grounds with one of the dogs upon him. He is most horribly hurt, and lies at the lodge in a critical condition. I promised Chris that I would bring a message to you from Lord Littimer. He wants you and Dr. Bell to come over this afternoon and stay to dinner."

"We'll come, with pleasure," David said. "I'll go anywhere to have the chance of a quiet hour with you, Ruth. So far ours has been rather a prosaic wooing. And, besides, I shall want you to coach me up on my interview with your uncle. You have no idea how nervous I am. And at the last he might refuse to accept me for your husband."

Ruth looked up fondly into her lover's face.

"As if he could," she said, indignantly. "As if any man could find fault with you."

David drew the slender figure to his side and kissed the sweet, shy lips.

"When you are my wife," he said, "and come to take a closer and tenderer interest in my welfare--"

"Could I take a deeper interest than I do now, David?"

"Well, perhaps not. But you will find that a good many people find fault with me. You have no idea what the critics say sometimes. They declare that I am an impostor, a copyist; they say that I am--"

"Let them say what they like," Ruth laughed. "That is mere jealousy, and anybody can criticise. To me you are the greatest novelist alive."

There was only one answer to this, and Ruth broke away, declaring that she must go at once.

"But you will come this afternoon?" she said. "And you will make Lord Littimer like you. Some people say he is queer, but I call him an old darling."

"He will like me, he is bound to. I've got something, a present for him, that will render him my slave for life. _Au revoir_ till the gloaming."

The dew was rising from the gra.s.s, the silence of the perfect morning was broken by the uneasy cries of the dogs. From their strange whimpering Williams felt pretty sure that something was wrong. At most times he would have called the dogs to him and laid into them with a whip, for Williams knew no fear, and the hounds respected his firm yet kindly rule.

But Williams was in an exceptionally good temper this morning. Everything had turned out as he had hoped for and antic.i.p.ated, and the literal kicking-out of Henson the previous evening was still fresh and sweet in his memory. It would be something to boast of in his declining years.

"Drat the dogs," he exclaimed. "Now, what's the matter? I had better go and see. Got a fox in a hole, perhaps! We shall have to tie 'em up in future."

Williams darted into the thicket. Then he came full upon Henson, lying on his back, with his white, unconscious face and staring eyes turned to the sky, and two great dogs fussing uneasily about him. A big pup close by had a large swelling on his head. By Henson's side lay the ash stick he had picked up when pursued by Merritt.

Williams bent over the stark, still figure and shuddered as he saw how his clothing was all torn away from the body; saw the deep wounds in the chest and throat; he could see that Henson still breathed. His loud shouts for a.s.sistance brought Frank Littimer and the lodge-keeper to the spot. Together they carried the body to the lodge and sent for the doctor.

"The case is absolutely hopeless," Walker said, after he had made his examination. "The poor fellow may linger till the morning, but I doubt if he will recognise anybody again. Does anybody know how the thing came about?"

n.o.body but Merritt could have thrown any light upon the mystery, and he was far away. Williams shook his head as he thought of his parting with Henson the previous night.

"I let him out and closed the gate behind him," he said. "He must have come back for something later on and gone for the dogs. He certainly hit one of the pups over the head with a stick, and that probably set the others on to him. n.o.body will ever know the rights of the business."

And n.o.body ever did, for Henson lingered on through the day and far into the night. At the house Lord Littimer was entertaining a party at dinner.

Everything had been explained; the ring had been produced and generally admired. All was peace and happiness. They were all on the terrace in the darkness when Williams came up from the lodge.

"Is there any further news?" Lord Littimer asked.

"Yes, my lord," Williams said, quietly. "Dr. Walker has just come, and would like to see you at once. Mr. Reginald Henson died ten minutes ago."

A hush came over the hitherto noisy group. It was some little time before Lord Littimer returned. He had only to confirm the news. Reginald Henson was dead; he had escaped justice, after all.

"Well, I'm not sorry," Lady Littimer said. "It is a rare disgrace saved to the family. And there have been trouble and sorrow enough and to spare."

"But your own good name, my dear?" Lord Littimer said. "And Frank's?"

"We can live all that down, my dear husband. Frank will be too happy with Chris to care what gossips say. And Dr. Bell and Enid will be as happy as the others."

"And Ruth and myself, too," David said, quietly. "Later on I shall tell in a book how three sirens got me into a perfect sea of mischief."

"What shall you call the book?" Littimer asked.

"What better t.i.tle could I have," David said, "than _The Crimson Blind_?"