To Save Himself. A novel

Chapter I

Kate's letter was as follows : — " My dear Hugh, " I wish I could think your last letter was not part and parcel of your past evasions. For my part I can only tell you that I decline to wait any longer. Justice I will have, and as you refuse to give it to me, I shall take steps to bring my case before the notice of the world. I will make you regret to your dying day that I was ever placed in the position to VOL. 11. which your selfishness or indifference has so long condemned me. " Your wife, " Kate St. Ambert." The signature alone was sufficient to frighten Cardstone. It was clear that his wife meant to allow no more delays. Visions of private inquiries and advertise ments in the papers floated before him. She had ample means — he had never stinted her in any way, — and there was a large sum lying to her credit at the Helmstone Bank; she could also raise more by the sale of her jewelry and furniture.

An angry woman would stop at nothing, as he knew full well, and it was therefore imperative that she should be stopped at once. He hastily completed his toilet and went down to the breakfast-room. Sir James was already down. " I am afraid that I must leave you to day," said Cardstone. " I have received an unexpected summons this morning, and must leave at once." " A pity you could not wait till Nellie comes back," said Sir James. His daughter had left two days before on a short visit to London. " I am afraid it is impossible ; this business must be attended to at once. I am very sorry to break off my visit so suddenly, and cannot thank you enough, general, for all your kindness, but I must go by the first train possible." " Well, if you must go, you must. You have just time to catch the eleven o'clock express comfortably.

It will land you at St. Pancras about three o'clock." " That will suit me admirably." There was a train to Helmstone at four o'clock, which he could catch. So his arrangements were made, and Sir James drove him to the station, and bade him good-bye, telling him to be careful of himself as, after his shaking, he would find the journey more trying than he anticipated. And so he did. When, just before six o'clock, he was deposited at Helmstone station he felt very weary, old, and stiff, and the prospect of an angry meeting with his wife, to be followed by the neces sity for taking her to town and introducing her to his mother, did not cheer him much. Leaving directions for a porter to carry his baggage up to his house, Lord Card stone determined, in spite of his feeling of fatigue, to walk. The distance was about a mile and a half, and after being shaken all day in a train he hoped that the exercise might refresh him.

It was almost dark as he turned into the lane in which the house was situated. " Anglesey," as it was called, was of the usual type of small houses on the outskirts of a country town. It stood a little back from the road, in its own grounds, being protected on the side nearest the road by some thick shrubs and trees. In addition to the gate which closed the drive leading to the house, there was a small wicket, which, opening on to a side path through the shrubbery, was used chiefly by the servants and tradesmen having business in the house. Lord Cardstone chose this way as there was a short cut across the lawn. He opened the wicket and walked in. The local policeman, who knew him by sight, came up at the same moment and touched his hat. A second later he was in the path. Running parallel with this path, and skirting the shrubbery, was a narrow, deep brook, which, passing through the town, made its escape into the open country on this side, after supplying some mills as it passed.

A wall about three feet high formed a protection to the walk, and pre vented any one from stepping by accident into the water. Near the wicket by which Lord Cardstone entered, the path was dark, owing to bushes overhanging wall and stream on the one side and to high shrubs and trees on the lawn before the house. It was so dark that he could see but little, and the turns in the path pre vented his looking far ahead. As he walked towards the house his attention was caught by a shrill cry of terror, a tiny wail, and a loud splash in the water. Running forward in great alarm, he thought, as he ran, he saw a skirt disappearing among the bushes ahead. But in his anxiety to discover what had fallen into the water, he peered over the parapet, which was here more open, and distinctly saw what seemed to him to be a small bundle of clothes being carried along by the stream ; — the latter, swollen by recent rains, was running with considerable swift ness below him.

Instinct made him act, and jumping over the parapet he clambered down to the water's edge and watched the object being carried into a deep pool near the entrance gate. Calling loudly to the policeman, who came running to wards him at once, he hastily explained what had happened, and the pair scrambled along the bank till some fifty yards below they found what they sought. It was the body of a child, and as the light fell on its face a cry of horror broke from the un happy man. He was holding the corpse of his son in his arms. Clambering on to the bank with the policeman's assistance, he carried it to wards the house. The anxiety of the day, his recent illness, his fears regarding Kate's probable action, all influenced him,, and he was possessed by but one idea : — his wife had thrown her child into the water to revenge herself on him.

As they reached the door Kate St. Ambert came to meet them. As she saw the party she fell back and grew pale ; then, as it were with an effort, recovering herself she advanced again. Quickly as it all hap pened her husband's mind was made up, and her hesitation was the only thing needed to complete the certainty of her guilt. The whole horror of the situation was full upon him, and in the agony of his feelings he spoke — spoke sufficiently to cause the policeman's suspicions to be directed to the mother, and to lead to her being immediately arrested on the charge of murdering her only son. " There, madam," he cried, " see what the end of your headstrong temper has been. But if you think that the murder of this innocent life shall gain your ends you are mistaken. Officer, I charge that woman with the murder of this child."

As he spoke, Kate gave one awful look at the boy's body ; then, realizing the truth, she fell unconscious to the ground. Then followed the full scene of confusion usual on such occasions : — the servants running to and fro, the arrival of the doctors and police officials, the inquest, the notoriety, the arrest of the mother, and her eventual trial for her life. Card stone, dressed in deep mourning, appeared at the inquest, and gave his evidence. He described how he and the policeman had found the body. In consideration for his feelings, the coroner had not pressed his questions, and the prosecution, partly induced by Mr. Blanchard, his solicitor, were actually got to take such a view of the case that they accepted the evidence of the policeman as to the finding of the body and the identification of the handkerchief as sufficient, and did not call the husband, who produced a certificate from two doctors to state that he was suffering from a shock to the nervous system, and that it was dangerous to question or worry him, or even remind him of the awful tragedy.

Poor Georgie Lambert — properly the Honourable George St. Ambert — went to his grave attended by no one but Mr. Blanchard, the solicitor. Buried privately, and at night, to avoid a crowd, his grave, in spite of a handsome white marble monu ment, remained unhonoured and uncared for, till his mother, saved from an igno minious death by Denis Halford's elo quence, had, on the evening of her release from prison, found it out, and poured out her grief in lamentations by the poor murdered child's last resting-place. And where was Cardstone all this time ? He was hiding in his London house — alone, miserable, degraded. His wife's letter, and the vision he had had of a woman leaving the scene of the tragedy, had firmly persuaded him of her guilt. A sense of utter misery, a fear of detection in his duplicity, perhaps a lingering glimpse of generosity to the wretched woman whom he had himself brought to this pass, had both sealed his lips at the inquest and kept him in the background afterwards.

Firmly as he believed her guilty, he could not bring himself to aid in her destruction. Too late he realized the enormity of his offence ; saw how, by his double dealing and his selfish refusal to put his wife right in the eyes of the world, he had broken up his once happy home, caused the murder of his innocent child, and sent the woman, whom he had pledged himself to honour and cherish all his life, an outcast into the world. Of Kate's guilt he entertained no doubt. He was not sorry that she should escape, and was willing to provide for her after wards. But one thing surprised him — in all her difficulties she had never betrayed him nor appealed to him for help. On reading the news of her acquittal, his first impulse had been to place himself in communication with her and provide for her.

To find his overtures met as Denis Halford had met them, and to find that his wife would only deal with him through another man, and that a lawyer, had astonished him. A new feeling sprang up within him, namely of shame at his desertion, and of doubt as to his wife's real guilt.

Chapter II

The circuit was over, and Denis Halford had returned to London. The day was that on which he had appointed to meet Mrs. Lambert, and as he sat at breakfast in his comfortable chambers, he was thinking, deeply too, over his future movements. To begin with, his successful defence of his unfortunate client had brought him suddenly into notice in his profession. Work began to pour in, and he thought, regretfully perhaps, that he had only to buckle to and he would become a success in his profession. As already stated, he was really independent of work at any time, and the fact that his days of ease were over, and he must now buckle to and burn the midnight oil, was not one to him of unmixed pleasure. Still, every man has ambition, and, idle as he had, without doubt, been hitherto, Denis Halford was not without his aims and aspirations, and he smiled as he thought that perhaps after all there was a career before him.

Then there was the other side of the question. He had to think of what to do with his beautiful and practically friendless client. In a sudden fit of impulse he had constituted himself her guide, philosopher, and friend, and now he was paying the penalty. He was rather frightened at the prospect, and not unnaturally. The. more he thought the business over, the less it pleased him. First of all, who was Mr. Lambert ? Certainly not what he pretended to be. Then, who was his wife ? In some ways, hardly what he would have expected her to be, after seeing her husband. Then, again, who had murdered the child ? The poor little thing could not have very well committed suicide, and failing that there was no explanation regarding his death. His mother had not — certainly had not, killed him, and his father apparently had not.

There was a third person who had to be discovered, and unfortunately he held in his hands, if not the actual means, something very like it. If he had judged his client aright, she would never leave a stone unturned which could help her in the business. So long as she was penni less, there was little chance of her doing much, but with the handsome income her husband had given her, she could and probably would do a great deal. It was time to start before he had finally dismissed his thoughts from his mind His appointment with Mrs. Lambert was for ten o'clock, and he drove off in a hansom, still ruminating over his future connection with this curious woman. It was five minutes past ten o'clock when he reached Edinburgh Terrace, and stopped at No. no. On giving his name, he was at once shown up to a first-floor sitting-room.

Mrs. Lambert was not in the room, and he had time to glance round him before she came. It struck him at once that the room was that of a lady. Nay more, the taste dis played and the arrangement of everything showed the occupant to be a person of refinement. Many of the things he recognized as coming from the drawing-room of the little house at Helmstone, and he guessed they had been in a package sent to his care by Mr. Lambert's orders. The room was a cheerful one, with a pretty outlook (for London) over Kensington VOL. II. Gardens, and all the things in it were pretty too. The little touches, which only feminine hands can give, and which men, no matter what their will or expenditure may be, can never attain to, were not wanting. He was roused from his inspection by some one on the stairs.

A moment later the door opened, and Kate Lambert entered the room. If he had been surprised, as he un doubtedly was, by his first impression, he was now really astounded. There was little in common between the broken-down woman whom he had saved from the gallows, and the queenly creature who, with a bright smile of welcome, now came towards him. Kate Lambert, dressed in her deep mourning, which thoroughly suited her fair hair and complexion, looked lovely. More than that, the rest and a more contented state of mind had given her back the looks and the grace of which for a time her trials had deprived her. Denis Halford, in his surprise, told himself that she was one of the loveliest women that he had ever seen, fair indeed to look upon. With her sweet eyes smiling upon him he threw caution to the winds, and knew himself her willing slave, and the instrument, should she wish it, of her vengeance.

As she wished him good morning, he began an apology for troubling her on business. " Don't apologize, Mr. Halford," she said ; " I am always glad to see you. Now in particular I want your advice." " It is at your disposal, Mrs. Lambert," said Denis. " But, if you will allow me, I will first dispose of one or two matters of business which will not keep." "Certainly. It will perhaps be best. You wished to see me," she answered, still smiling. " I did, Mrs. Lambert. I have seen your husband." Before he could proceed he was stopped by the expression of his client's face. She turned deadly pale, and caught hold of the arms of the chair which she was sitting upon. " You have seen Hugh ! " she gasped. " Yes," said Halford, pretending not to notice her confusion ; " I found him waiting for me when I got back to my lodgings after seeing you off."

The listener bowed, but made no remark. "He asked for your address. I hope I did right in refusing ? " " Quite right." Her voice was hard, almost harsh, but firm enough now. " He also notified to me his intention of making you a handsome allowance — a very handsome one, and handed to me the first quarter's instalment." Mrs. Lambert again signed to him to proceed. "He further gave me a very liberal fee for my own services. Excuse my mentioning this, Mrs. Lambert " — for Kate reddened, — " but I wish you clearly to understand that in the matter under refer ence I am not only your adviser but your man of business." He stumbled a little here. He wished to impress upon Kate the fact that he had been rewarded for his services, to which she had a right beyond that which his friendly feelings to herself prompted.

As he stopped, Kate asked him, " Is that all ? " He replied that it was. After consider ing a moment, she spoke as follows : — " I am greatly obliged to you, Mr. Halford, for your kindness, which I can never repay. It would be inexpressibly unpleasant to me to meet Mr. Lambert again, and equally to accept any aid from him in a pecuniary way. I mean to be self-supporting." " How do you mean ? " asked Halford. " I have already arranged that. You may well understand that I am anxious for any employment as a distraction. I have obtained an engagement as a daily governess." Halford involuntarily glanced round the room. She saw him, and guessed the thought passing through his mind. " Oh, I have arranged all that too," she said. " I leave these rooms, which your kindness has provided, to go to humbler lodgings in the course of the week.

My duties commence on the first of next month, and then I shall be independent. Meanwhile, out of the money Mr. Lambert gave you, please repay yourself all your outlay on my behalf, and the hire of these rooms since I have been in them. Tell Mr. Lambert that, once and for all, I decline to hold any communication with him, or accept any more of his money. Now let us change the subject." Halford was aghast. As soon as he could find words he spoke. " My dear Mrs. Lambert, pray forgive me if I say that this is absurd. Why, when your husband, who by law is bound to provide for you, gives you an ample income, need you set to work to lead a life of drudgery ? " " Not at all, Mr. Halford. It is simply that I prefer to be independent." " Which you have no possibility of being. This offer, once made, may never be repeated.

Suppose you fall sick, or lose your employment ? or suppose It is really hard to say all I mean without hurting your feelings." " My feelings are too dead to what the world says for that, Mr. Halford. Say your mind out ; you will not hurt me." "Well, then," faltered the lawyer, "your late suf — in fact, the trial has made you rather notorious. Your photograph " Kate laughed a hard laugh. " I never was photographed in my life." She reached over and handed him a picture paper. " There," she said, " is the only representation of me which has ever ap peared. Seriously, would any one identify me with the Helmstone murderess, as the artist was good enough to call me ? Halford could honestly answer that he did not think it likely, but he added, " Might not some of those present at the trial see and recognize you ?

" Kate looked at him. " Had you met me in the street instead of in this room, would you have spoken to me ? " she asked. Denis Halford reddened. " No, I should not," he said. " I thought my glass had not deceived me," she replied. " I was rather shocked myself when I saw what ravages two months of misery had made. I find, however, time amends most things." Her voice shook a little here. " But your name. Are you to continue as Mrs. Fenton ? " — giving the name she bore in the lodgings. Kate's eyes flashed fire. " No," she answered. " In future I am to be Mrs. St. Ambert." " A very rare name ; only borne, I think, by one family in England. Why have you chosen that ? " "Because," she said sternly, "it is my own name. I have lived too long under false colours. I intend in future to bear my husband's name."

" Your husband ! Hugh St. Ambert ! false name ! " ejaculated Halford. " Is your husband a St. Ambert ? " " Yes. Why not ? " " Oh, nothing," returned the other ; "only it is a rare name. But" — wishing to change the subject — " to return to this allowance. You really ought to take it." " And what am I to do with it, pray ? " " Live on it ; spend it in charity ; give it away ; use it for any object that occurs to you." Kate's face first grew stern, then a light broke over it. " I will take it," she muttered, " and avenge my child. Woe betide his murderer. I never thought of that. Hugh's money can be of use in my hands." And she added aloud, " How much is it ? " " A thousand a-year." " It seems a great deal, Mr. Halford, but you must take it and spend it for me — on finding Georgie's murderer," she said in a low voice.

Then, as the memory of her murdered child came back to her with fresh force, she turned her head away, and the calm which had hitherto supported her through the interview giving way, she burst into a frantic fit of weeping. Halford walked to the window and left the unfortunate mother to herself. He was not sorry for a minute or two to think over matters ; he himself would clearly be committed to assist her. And how ? It was a task of great difficulty in any case, and one which, he had no doubt, would require a great expenditure of time and money. He recollected now that in preparing his defence at the Helmstone trial he had been solely guided by anxiety to prove the mother's innocence, and had made no effort to fix the guilt elsewhere. Of course he could go over the evidence again and see that there might be some clue.

If the case contained any hope for his client, he could follow up such clues as offered ; failing that, he would leave matters alone, and persuade Mrs. St. Ambert to do the same. At present another and more important duty lay before him. He must contrive to make Kate give up her quixotic idea of refusing to accept aid from her husband. Deeply sensible as he was of her wrongs, and fully as he sympathized with her feel ings, he could not reconcile himself to allowing her to attempt to work for her own living. This he must prevent. A bright idea struck him. Kate's voice recalled him from the region of specula tion. " Forgive me, Mr. Halford," she said, with deep emotion, " for giving way thus. I thought I had steeled myself against all such emotions, but I find I am a worse actress than I thought.

Georgie's " — her voice trembled, and she paused for a moment ; then, recovering herself, pro ceeded — " Georgie's name brought back to me the full bitterness of my loss and my desolation. I promise not to offend again. " My dear Mrs. St. Ambert, please don't apologize," returned Halford warmly. " Ninety-nine women out of a hundred who had suffered as you have, would have broken down long ago. I sympathize with you far too deeply to wonder at your emotion." "And I hope," she said in a voice of winning softness, " Mr. Halford, that you will carry your sympathy so far as to assist me in my search." " I promise you," said the other, " that I will assist you faithfully, and to the best of my ability. But, Mrs. St. Ambert, I must attach one condition to my aid : I must insist on your maintaining the strictest privacy, and living in the strictest possible seclusion."

" I have already told you that is just what I propose to do." " No. Please do not misunderstand me. Forgive my alluding to it, but your personal appearance is not of an ordinary type. A young and beautiful woman, dressed, as you are, in deep mourning, who suddenly takes to teaching as a daily governess, will at once set all the female tongues within distance clattering and their heads scheming to find out who and what you are. You don't, I suppose, mean to discard your wedding ring ? " Kate shook her head. " Then that in itself is sufficient. In one month's time you will be known." " How ? " faltered Kate. " That," said Halford, shrugging his shoulders, " I cannot possibly foretell. Chance is a thing that we too often leave out of our calculations ; but you may rest assured that one way or another your story would leak out, and then farewell to all chance of concealment, or," he added, to strengthen his argument, " of discover ing your child's murderer."

" Then what am I to do ? " asked Kate, in dismay. " You must give up your idea of ser vice. Hear me out," as Kate began to dissent. " The income your husband offers you is far more than I shall require for my investigations. Now listen. I shall open an account in your name at a bank. You must retire to some quiet spot, live, under your own name, and from time to time I will draw on you for such funds as I require." Kate saw the ground slipping from under her feet. " I don't like this, Mr. Halford." " No ; nor is it a course which, under any other circumstances, I should advise you to pursue. But, Mrs. St. Ambert, if you really wish to find out the truth of this awful story, it is your only chance. Once let the criminal know that you are also working, and our chance is gone. If you accept my terms my services are yours ; if you refuse them, then I must regretfully decline to have anything to say to the business."

Kate sighed. " I cannot," she said rue fully, "afford to part with my only friend. Mr. Halford, these are hard conditions which you impose, but I must accept them. Now tell me what you propose to do." " That," said Denis, " is more than I can say at present. Understand, please, that I will keep you fully informed of my movements ; and once I am in the way, I will accept your assistance too. Now, Mrs. St. Ambert, I must go. I have a case at two o'clock, and a call or two to make before that. Whenever I require VOL. II. money I will let you know" (for Kate was handing him the cheque). " Give me a copy of your signature. Do you prefer any particular bank ? Very well, I know of a good one for your purpose. Now, I recommend your moving to some quieter situation. Not out of London ; there is no place so suitable, if you want to get lost, as a crowd.

Good-bye. I will call again as soon as I can bring you any news." And hastily leaving the room, to avoid alike her thanks and any chance of her relenting, he ran downstairs, hailed a cab, and, giving the address of a well known bank, was driven away. His business there did not take long, and having opened the account and sent by post a cheque-book to Mrs. St. Ambert, he turned his face towards Pall Mall. Twenty minutes later he was at the porter's desk of the Corydon Club, and asking for Mr. Ambrose. In a minute's time he was shown into their handsome writing-room and shaking hands with the man he wanted.

Chapter III

Mr. Ambrose was, like himself, a lawyer — a conveyancer in good practice. He was a small man, rather slovenly in his appearance, with long grey whiskers, long hair, very indifferently brushed — a reproach equally applicable to his clothes, — a queer habit of puckering up his eyes when he was talking, which came from extreme short-sight and the constant use of a gold rimmed eyeglass, which hung from his neck by a narrow black cord. Every minute or so his right hand strayed to his throat and mechanically arranged his tie, and ever and anon he ran the forefinger of his left round his neck inside his collar, as if to smooth away an imaginary crease. But peculiar as his personal appearance was, and ultra nervous as his manner appeared to be, no man in London had a larger acquaintance or was more sought after by his friends.

He hated a formal invitation, and never, if he could help it, dressed for dinner ; yet those who knew him best said that he seldom dined at his own expense. He went to his chambers every day at one ; then worked till five, at which hour he strolled back to the Corydon and spent half an hour collecting the news. This over, he got into a hansom cab, and drove direct to the house at which he intended to dine, and sending in his card, if admitted, waited till he was asked to stay to dinner, as he invariably was. His knowledge of London was un rivalled, and his prodigious memory so stocked with an unlimited array of facts regarding men and things that, wherever he went, he was always welcome. He had a quaint dry way of telling his stories, a pithy way of stating a fact, and a terse style of summing up a man, which was his and his alone.