Angus Murray

Front matter

OPINIONS OF THE PRESS ON 'FOB SO LITTLE.' 1 " For so Little " is a domestic tragedy narrated with considerable power and pathos. The chief interest lies in the great central figure of the hero-villain, Lawrence Maber, the darling of society, the man of artistic tastes and wide literary culture, the kind, genial friend, and yet the deliberate relentless poisoner. * * * Viewed from a standpoint of artistic characterisation, such a combination of jarring qualities — above all, such consistent, imperious hypocrisy covering such calm, unfaltering cruelty — is too great a violation of probability. Still, in Gaboriau's " L' Affaire Lerouge " we have a villain nearly as deeply steeped in guilt, and living the same double life.' Westminster Review, March 1891. ' Mrs. Davis has the happy knack, almost a sine qua non in this class of fiction, of complicating a mystery, of interweaving it with others, until the most experienced solver of criminal problems must acknowledge himself baffled.

To make the childish Elsie blind to the nature of the man who has ruthlessly endeavoured to destroy her, is a truth that contributes much to the effect of the tale.' Morning Post. ' Lawrence Maber is fascinating, complex, individual.' Athenæum. ' " For so Little " is a stirring and sensational poison romance which has obtained a wide popularity. * * * Tlie novel contains material for half a dozen Adelphi dramas.' Daily Telegraph (Clement Scott). ' There is much power, character, and principle in the story.' Guardian. ' The author cleverly keeps the secret as to who the real murderer is tiU towards the close. It is unquestionably exciting.' Academy. ' Miss Helen Davis wrote a book all about a famous Australian poisoning case. The story is taken from actual life. The incidents temptingly dramatic' Gentlewoman.

SWAN SONNENSCHEIN, 1890. 'A LIFE POLICY.' By HELEN DAVIS. A SOCIETY DEAMA IN FOUR ACTS," POUNDED ON A CELEBRATED POISONING CASE. Produced at Tern/s Theatre, for copyright pur -poses, at a Matinee, 1894. ' " A Life Policy " is an exciting and clever piece.' ' Spectators engrossed.' ' Ingenious plot.' • I am bound to say the piece excited me very much.' ' We shall hear of Helen Davis again.' — (' Drama of tho Day,' by Clement Scott.) Daily Telegraph, July 21st. ' " A Life Policy " was produced at Terry's in the presence of a considerable audience, and met with a favourable reception.' Standard, July 21st, 1894. 'The most striking scene in "A Life Policy" passes in a sick room, and shows a consultation of physicians and an analysis of poison. "A Life Policy" was received with signal favour.' Daily Graphic, July 21st. ' "A Life Policy " obtained a very warm reception.' Globe, July 21st, 1894. ' A thrilling romance of domestic treachery and cold-blooded crime.' Sporting and Dramatic, July 21st. ' The public received " A Life Policy " with high favour.' Athenæum, , sidy 21st, 1894. ''•A Life Policy " is a remarkable play founded on actual life.

Chapter I

Two men with pipes in their mouths are sitting up late into the night. The fire, which from time to time they have replenished, is burning brightly in the grate, although the small hand of the clock on the mantelpiece points to two. The well-cared-for, but poorly-furnished, apartment they occupy looks like a sitting-room in lodgings, with, one may suppose, a very trim landlady in the background. Each man appears at home, but the recent arrival of one of them is suggested by a valise and whip lying side by side on the table. From their conversation it is evident they have not met for some time, and that the owner of the whip and valise, now weary and outstretched on the sofa, is simply on a visit to Airley Cottage. Angus Murray is the man at home, Angelo Chetwynd (who curses his godfathers and godmothers every time he signs his name) is the man who has come off the journey.

No ordinary friendship exists between these two, and Angus, bored to death by the dulness of Rawbon, whither he has come to turn over a new leaf, is experiencing great pleasure in his friend's visit. Angus is a Scotchman, and looks like one, in spite of his swarthy skin, which fierce Australian suns have coloured. He is not handsome, but carries himself like a soldier and a gentleman. One is struck by the signs of premature age upon his face, every line of whicii indicates moral strife — the remorse of one who is conscious of traveUing on the down ward path leading to ruin. God help him ! B Chetwynd, judged superficially, seems a Spaniard, but is, in fact, an Englishman in possession of a grandiose-Spanish type of face and physique. His features, of aquiline caste, are handsome and regular, and his figure, although lacking the compactness of Murray's, is largely made and powerful.

Every now and then his dark, melancholy eyes are ablaze with fire and passion. His expression is a revelation of candour. He is a good fellow, is Chetwynd, but the least diplomatic of men. ' And so, Angus, you find this Rawbon an infernal hole ? ' 'Infernal,' replied the man addressed, 'but good enough for me.' Then, with an abrupt transition of tone, he added : 'I expect the old woman will think I've gone clean off my head to-night, sitting up till this hour ; however, to give her her due, she generally makes ample allowances. Your visit is a real treat, Chetwynd, and it's not the first time you've gone out of your way to do me a good turn. I haven't forgot when you rode back that two hundred miles to see me.' 'I wish to Heaven I could help you to some more congenial billet than you have here,' replied Chetwynd impetuously. ' Your brother Athol is a selfish brute.

He might get you something decent to do, and he won't. The first chance I get I'll make a point of telling him what I think.' ' It's my own fault, Chetwynd. Athol has always clone what he can for me. The work's not bad, and the screw's fair — 350?. a year. Besides, I'm never hard up for a slap on the back from an affable butcher with whom, as auctioneer for live stock and sheepskins, I come into continual contact. But it's the utter isolation from all I care for I can't stand. If I lived within reasonable distance of Yamba I wouldn't mind, but it breaks into a clay to run clown there to see Athol for a few hours. However, I intend to go to the Yamba " Cup " next month. Have you made any fresh bets since I heard from you ? In this hole one never hears any turf news.' ' I have managed to scrape together twenty-five notes by hook or crook,' replied Chetwynd, 'and mean to put every sou on " Siesta."

She's a clinker, that mare. Henniker o-avo me the tip yesterday — my reason for coming down to-nio-lit I'm bound to make a good haul out of this, and then I'll be able to square up with you, for I'm ashamed to think how much I owe you.' Another hour went by in talking of the past. ' The days and nights we have squandered,' said Angus, in a long pause, which interrupted their reminiscences. 'What a fellow Gordon was to be sure. To have been able, in the midst of a life like his, to write such poetry. Our common experiences told in a few graphic words. I'll be hanged if I could say as much in a whole volume. Well, they were good old days, Chetwynd, in spite of what they cost us.' ' Never have 'em again,' sighed Chetwynd, helping himself to a cigar. ' We're getting too infernally civilised. Do you remember the day, Angus, when we roped that mad bull at Kinloch ?

I can see you now, springing on to the top rail of the stockyard, and asking him mildly if he was prepared to apologise for having ripped open your leg.' ' I've got the scar to this day,' replied Angus, ' and a good many more ; but the worst doing I ever had at the hand of an inferior was when I went up to tighten May Raweson 's saddle, and found myself at a considerable distance, without being consulted on the subject.' ' A regular devil that colt of May's ! ' returned Chetwynd. ' But we got the better of him when we put him into the team of cart-horses six-in-hand.' ' Lord ! ' exclaimed Angus, ' the artillery of Heaven was nothing to the row we made when we galloped them down the hill near the homestead and over the new bridge. By Jove ! how still May kept. I shall never forget Mrs. Raweson's face as we turned the corner.

I really believe,' said Angus, with a humorous twinkle in his eyes, ' that if May could have escaped safe and sound, she would have preferred to see me return with a broken head or so, just as a mild reprimand for having demoralised May. Even Hotspur looked shocked when I visited him later on in his loose-box. What a sagacious old beggar he is ! I've put him out to grass in a paddock near Rawbon. Every time I see him he seems to say, " Well, you've put me into a nice fix through your con founded folly." ' ' Must you leave positively by the early train, Chetwynd ? ' asked Angus, as they stood together on the hearth, so far on the way towards separating for the night. ' It's as much as my head's worth to remain longer,' replied Chetwynd. ' However, I'll try to come down again b in a few weeks.

A projws of your quarters here, the widow seems to make you comfortable.' ' She's all right. My strongest objection to her is slie insists on being "chummy," and you know I'm not a sociable beggar at the best of times.' Chetwynd laughed in his soft, low way. 'Asks you in three times a week to spend a musical evening 1 Ah ! there's a daughter, that fair creature we passed to-night in the garden.' ' Miss Airley is not much in my way ; there is also a friend who goes by the name of the " Beauty of Rawbon. " ' Angus scraped out his pipe. ' " The Beauty " lives in the house at the corner, and spends most of her time here. She's a daughter of Sarsfield — Pat Sarsfield, the wool merchant. Perhaps you don't know him ; he is well known in Rawbon.' ' I know Pat Sarsfield by name. Pretty girl 1 ' queried Chetwynd. ' Very, and a regular young limb, if you can call a girl so.

Have you seen May Raweson lately ? ' ' The little flirt ! ' ejaculated Chetwynd. ' I wish I'd never set eyes upon her.' ' You'll forgive her one of these days,' said Murray tem porisingly. ' You always said the best thing she could do was to make a good marriage.' ' Yes, but I did not expect her to run down her game like a harrier. Women are all the same ; I only know of one ex ception.' Angus was silent. He knew Chetwynd referred to his cousin, Mrs. Seymour. She had jilted Chetwynd to marry Jack Seymour, a scamp of a fellow, who had deserted her soon after their marriage. ' May's conduct is not suggestive of the nicest mind in the world,' continued Chetwynd. ' I tell you, Angus, I think very little of the girl. I shall always believe she only engaged herself to me because you didn't come forward.' The colour mounted into Angus Murray's face. 'She'd be better in her grave than— but at any rate, Chetwynd you are quite wrong in what you say.

But we must say good night, old fellow ; look at the time. Your room is opposite ' And he led the way towards the door. ' Angus,' said Chetwynd, pointing to the spirit stand on the sideboard, are you taking care of yourself ? ' ' About the same as usual,' replied Murray indifferently ; then in an altered tone he said, ' I have striven again and again and faUed.' A grey hue overspread his face, and into his eyes there stole a look of despair. As that torrent of recoUection and remorse burst in upon him, Angus looked older by ten years. He had striven again and failed. This was the conflict which had written its history on his face.

Chapter II

Rawbon is the proudest little place in the whole of Terangatta. It has an aristocracy of squatters, wealthy and otherwise ; an undercrust of professional men and merchants ; a lower middle class composed of tradesmen ; and, beneath all, some ragged poor. WThat has great England more 1 Perhaps a few peers ; but then, is not the exclusive squattocracy of Rawbon equal to a nobility elsewhere 1 In Terangatta the purse takes precedence of pedigree, and who can say if the motherland may not some day follow in the footsteps of her offspring ? But this is mere speculation. Enough to say that with their moderate means the Sarsfields were of the upper middle class, and the poor Airleys, who had to take in a lodger to pay their way, were bracketed with trade. Mrs. Airley, Angus's landlady, was the widow of a sea captain, whose death some years previously had left her dependent on the proceeds of a life policy for 1,000?., .and the possession of the home of her married life — the birthplace of her children.

Her large family and small means were out of proportion the one to the other ; and she, being thrifty and debt-fearing, had carefully thought out some means whereby to keep the wolf from the door. Her daughter objecting to school-keeping, Mrs. Airley was forced into the only alterna tive, that of taking in a lodger. In due time, thanks to the recommendation of his family doctor, Angus Murray found his way to the quiet, charming little nook overlooking the blue waters of Rawbon Bay. Life at Airley cottage lately had been more monotonous than usual. Fully a week had passed since Mr. Chetwynd had left, and Angus Murray, the boarder, had only just returned after an absence of some clays. Not that it made much difference whether that gentleman was in the house or not, for he still showed the same aversion to any kind of intimacy with the family, whose intentions towards himself were so effusively cordial.

No device had been left untried to induce him to ' drop in.' Some men who dislike society affect music, but it would almost appear that Mr. Murray was not a he.iven-destined soul, for as soon as Miss Airley struck the piano his step on the gravel outside announced his retreat. Then when the effect of a taking toilette had failed to attract, more useful blandishments had been brought into play, and the soil, on which the mignonette grew thickly about Angus's window, was weeded and tilled with assiduity. But even this at tention met with no response, and Mrs. Airley and her daughter had come to the irritating conclusion that even years hence ' No admittance ' would be written over their lodger's door. Things had been going on thus for some weeks, during which time Lynne Sarsfield (Miss Airley's bosom friend) had been a frequent visitor to the house, and the low tone of thought there prevalent was leaving a strange impress upon her young, ardent imagination.

As yet, love was nothing more to her than a name. She had witnessed the agonies of her school-boy admirers with amused indifference ; but now that an Antony was within the sphere of her influence, she fancied she might play the part of Cleopatra. At times Angus Murray recalled her favourite Marmion, at others, his lonely isolated life associated him with the Corsair ; then again, he was another Chinese Gordon with a dash of some thing history does not associate with the martyred hero of Khartoum. Meanwhile her hero was scarcely conscious of her exist ence, although, when the merry peals of laughter that announced her presence penetrated his solitude, he became more or less suspicious that tlie Evil One had set on a second young demon to torment him, and barricaded himself still more closely in his voluntary imprisonment.

Such being the state of things, Mrs. Airley and her daughter had no idea, when they settled down after tea, to pass one of their usual dull evenings, that an event was on the tapis which would infect their proper parlour with an air of mild dissipation. ' Lynne is surely very late to-night,' remarked Mrs. Airley, looking at the clock, which pointed to eight ; ' did you not expect her in to tea 1 ' 'Bather! But her new frock wasn't finished; and she wants to look particularly killing,' returned the daughter, with a laugh. This young lady generally backed up Her remarks in this way. ' It's a downright love of a frock, and I wish I'd one like it.' Miss Airley giggled once more 'My dear,' sighed the widow, apologetically, ' you know 1 would gladly give you such another ; but I am sorely pressed for money just now.

I declare there's Mr. Murray just come in. Run and order up his dinner ; and see, dearie, that his soup isn't fatty,' continued Mrs. Airley, delivering herself of her afterthoughts, with a forward lurch of her angular body, and a precise, propitiating smile. She knew exactly the amount of coercion her high-spirited daughter would permit. "When Maude returned to the dimly-lighted parlour she found her friend sitting in an arm-chair, opposite her mother. The ' Beauty of Rawbon ' was looking her best this evening. Her new frock was becoming ; so was the sparkling animation upon her face. Opinions as to beauty differ so widely that no artist can paint a picture which will find favour with all ; and Lynne Sarsfield had no pretensions to classic loveliness. A small insignificant nose, slightly retrousse, and a large mouth, are not the attributes of a Venus ; yet, nevertheless, she went by the name of the ' Beauty of Rawbon,' and there is little doubt she was worthy of it.

Sometimes her pale, clear skin showed a bright crimson on the cheeks ; but, pale or flushed, her lips were always vermilion. Under the soft, fluffy, nut brown hair a broad, white brow rose with stately grace, and her grey eyes, fringed with black lashes, were ever glancing upwards, shyly, kindly, mischievously, as her mood altered. Humour, passion, scorn, were possibilities the observer might associate with those bewitching eyes ; and the full, red lips, at one moment tremulous, at another firm, bore delightful testimony to sensibility and purpose. One of these possibilities lurking behind her beauty was that the desire to please herself might render duty negative. But why dip into the future 1 Frolic is not out of place at seventeen, for Life, the great schoolmaster, seldom takes a pupil in hand until the mind has become susceptible to his teaching under the influence of adversity. ' Have you been wondering what has become of me all this week 1 ' asked Miss Sarsfield, looking at Mrs. Airley naively ■ ' have you missed me, Mrs. Airley 1 ' ' Not at all, my dear,' answered Mrs. Airley vivaciously.

The widow liked to be funny occasionally. ' Not at all, I never expect to see you when his lordship is away.' ' That is the very time I would select to come,' Lynne's lips parted in a pretty smile. ' I vow it's no treat to see Mr. Murray. Now, Maudie, don't you agree with me 1 ' Miss Sarsfield winked knowingly across at her friend. ' Treat ! ' echoed that damsel ; 'as if you'd be likely to waste two thoughts on such a nasty, cross, ugly, old fright.' ' He isn't old, he isn't nasty, and he isn't ugly j but all the same he's terrible ! ' said Lynne, with an inclination towards tragedy. ' My dearie, I beg of you not to laugh so loud,' supplicated the widow, as a peal of laughter from Miss Airley approved Lynne's observation. ' Mr. Murray will surely hear you.' ' I don't care if he does, it'll teach him to laugh himself ; he's never touched his dinner again to-night.' ' I was afraid he would not.' Whereupon the widow dropped into a reverie. ' Maude,' continued she in a few minutes, ' go and see if his hat is gone from the peg ; maybe he'U stop in to-night.' 'Lynne,' exclaimed Maude, 'shall I give him one more chance 1 ' ' I think you might say Miss Sarsfield is dying to see him.' ' He'll leave the place if you ask him in again,' expostulated Mrs. Airley.

But her expostulation was made in vain. Before she had completed it Maude was beyond earshot ; and immediately afterwards a distant knocking told her how far the threat had been carried out. ' My dear, my dear, why did you set her on ? ' asked the widow of Lynne, querulously ; ' it made him as provoked as could be before ; how could you be so unwise ! ' In another moment the delinquent had returned. ' He's coming at last,' she cried exultingly ; ' he's coming.' 'What did you say ?' asked Lynne, in whose eyes there was a look of great delight. ' I asked him to come in, and he said, " Thank you, Miss Airley, I should like to look in for an hour or so ; I'm off just now to the club to see a fellow." ' ' To see a fellah ! Oh dear ! ' said Lynne, twirling an imaginary moustache. 'I say, you deserve a testimonial, Maude.' Then she pirouetted round the room, and finally brought herself to a standstill before Mrs. Airley s chair. 'Mrs. Airley, Mrs. Airley,' she said coaxingly, clo pre tend I'm somebody else.

CaU me Miss Clifford or Camilla St Clair, or Mrs. L'Estrange, or something that sounds romantic. Sarsfield is such an Irish outlandish name. I wonder why such a melodious person as Macaulay ever put it in his history.' ' Introduce you as someone else ! Indeed, 1 11 do nothing ot the sort ; and do you both try to behave yourselves,' said the widow, drawing herself up with dignified severity. Then, unbending, she bestowed one of her precise smiles on Lynne, and added, ' for pity's sake, Lynne, don't play any of your pranks ! ' ' Perhaps I'll be good,' replied her young visitor, putting on a pair of spectacles that Mrs. Airley had just laid down. ' But I'll see. Oh, dear, I would like to be somebody out of the common. Hush, hush ; he comes, he comes — the king ' Mrs. Airley made one random grab at her spectacles, and was just on the point of thrusting out her hand a second time, when the door opened, and Angus Murray entered the room. ' I've come in now,' he said abruptly, shaking hands with Mrs. Airley, and then bowing to Maude, ' as I suspect it will be late before I'm back from the Club.' 'Oh, it doesn't make the least difference,' said Mrs. Airley, who looked, so Lynne thought from her point of observation, ridiculously excited ; ' we'll be most happy to see you at any time you think fit.

Indeed, Mr. Murray, I often think you must be dull in there by yourself, all alone ; sit down, Mr. Murray, sit clown by the fire.' ' It's not over lively, certainly,' he replied, ' at least most men would find it pretty quiet ; but I've lived so much in the bush since I came to the Colonies that I'm used to it. I've often been six months at a stretch without seeing a solitary soul, except a black fellow.' ' Allow me to introduce you to Miss Sarsfield,' jerked out Mrs. Airley, in a voice pitched some tones higher than usual. ' Sit down, Mr. Murray — Mr. Sarsfield, Miss Murray. Oh, dear 1 what am I thinking of ? — Mr. Murray, Miss Sarsfield.' ' Excuse me ; Madame L'Estrange,' said Lynne, whose manner was a mixture of shyness and composure, 'Mrs. Airley have known me so long as Mees Sarsfield that she have forgotten to give my propair title ; at present I'm a grass vidou.' ' Indeed ! ' exclaimed Angus, looking full at the speaker, whose lovely grey eyes he had seen before, but without the spectacles.

Then a silence followed, in which the fall of a pin might have been heard. It was impossible to conceive what would occur next. Instead of minutes, ticked out by the clock, the sixty seconds seemed to be sixty hours. In her almost deUrious bewilderment, Mrs. Airley suspected that she had entered upon the first stage of eternal woe, and that certain affable fiends were asking her to take a cheerful view of her predicament. Strange conjectures, like so many evil personalities, chased each other through her mind. One confronted her with the question, ' What would her boarder think of this fool's play, invited there to spend a pleasant evening, and tbis to be the entertainment ? How take the insult of a practical joke being played upon him, when, by his frigid hauteur, he had repelled their most respectful advances ? ' Mrs. Airley felt sorry that she had remained in possession of her senses.

Had she even been a gibbering idiot her responsi bility would have been immeasurably reduced. Sensation now having reached a point when torment was exhausted, poor Mrs. Airley, reduced to despair by Lynne's masquerade, made the discovery that she herself was about to furnish a most fatal variety to the entertainment. She was subject to sneezing fits of considerable duration, and she knew by experience that she — ' poor, inoffensive Eliza,' as she liked to call herself — was about to introduce the company to an exhibition which conjured to the imagination the neighing of a furious war-horse. AU expedients to avert the catastrophe failed, and after wildly struggling for self-control she finally abandoned herself to the situation. Unfortunately, the dead silence gave hideous emphasis to each successive disturbance.

She might have been another Orpheus, so spell-bound was her audience. -Mrs. Airley felt there was a humorous inflection in Mr. Murray's voice when he said, ' You should get rid of that — that pool in front of your house, Miss— I beg your pardon, Madame— L'Estrange. I understand you live in the large house at the corner. You'll be getting in an account before long for broken legs. I nearly came to grief there myself. ' Ah, Mr. Murray, don't speak of dat puddle, please, it is the pugpear of my existence. Monsieur, my mari is so very ancient and cantankerous, he must have a grievance ; and, really, dat puddle is his grievance with the people, don't you know, who mends the roads.' ' Do you play cards, Mr. Murray 1 ' asked Maude Airley ostentatiously. Even she began to feel embarrassed. ' I can't say I do.

I play one or two games indifferently, but that's about the extent of my performances,' replied Murray, walking up to the table to give the widow a chance of recovering herself. ' What do you play 1 ' ' Grab ! ' exclaimed Miss Airley, with a loud laugh. ' Oh, my dearie ! ' cried the widow, coming to the front once more, under the fear of further misfortunes, ' perhaps Mr. Murray would like another game — whist or poker — poker is quite the thing now. Grab is only fit for children — a mere romp, and so noisy too.' ' Oh, grab's a fine game,' continued Miss Airley, with audacious persistence. ' Why not whist 1 ' said Angus, ' it's certainly more sedate. Shall it be whist, Mrs. Airley ? ' The widow nodded. Then, with a certain touch of coquetry, she added, ' Let it be whist, as you say.' Suspecting that Mrs. Airley's agitation had been attri butable in some way to the vivacious young visitor, Madame L'Estrange, he dealt the cards without loss of time ; and, ignoring her, asked Miss Airley to be his partner without the usual cut.

The ice being broken, Miss Airley began to enjoy herself. She told her partner unreservedly the contents of her hand, questioned him openly about his own, and finally proposed that they should begin a whist tournament on the foUowing evening, when he and she would play together against the other two. Meanwhile Lynne continued to play her part with unabated spirit, speaking in broken English, and making much of gesture. The disapproval in the cold blue eyes of Angus Murray only made her more defiant. After the first rubber Murray rose somewhat abruptly, saying, ' I shall be late for my appointment. It's half-past nine ; please excuse me, Mrs. Airley. If you will allow me I'll come in some other evening.' ' To meet Madame L'Estrange, bethought to himself, for this very young matron was just then informing the company in general that ' Charles Dee kins ' was a ' mee-serable ' poet. ' But you won't go till you've had some refreshment,' pleaded the widow pathetically, clattering some glasses on the chiffonier as she spoke, to deaden the sound of Lynne's voice.