The Sandcliff Mystery: a novel, etc

Front matter

THE 'PANSY' SERIES. Crown Svo, cloth elegant, Illustrated. DOROTHY'S VOCATION. By Evelyn Everett Green. Crown Svo, cloth elegant \ Illustrated. OLIVER LANGTON'S WARD. By Evelyn Everett Green. Crown Svo, cloth elegant, with Frontispiece. CHRISSY'S ENDEAVOUR. By Pansy. Author's Edition. Crown Svo, cloth elegant, Illustrated. A SEVENFOLD TROUBLE. By Pansy and her Friends. Crown %vo, cloth elegant, Illustrated. SCOTTISH SKETCHES. By Amelia E. Barr. Olip^ant, Xniewn, & Feppiep. EDINBURGH: 50 St Mary Street. LONDON : 4 Old Baii ev, E.C. OPINIONS OF THE PRESS ON THE FIRST EDITION. THE SANDCLIFF MYSTERY. By SCOTT GRAHAM, Author of "The Golden Milestone," "A Bolt from the Blue," etc. etc. "The story is extremely well written, and is interesting from first to last." — Bookseller, "The author . . . can not only write a well-constructed story, but also he manages his effects with considerable skill.

The interest, which is from the first strongly excited, gradually deepens towards the end of the tale, the climax of whieh is all that can be desired. . . . The picture of the little seaside town of Sandcliff is excellent, and there is no doubt a real dramatic inspiration in the sudden appearance of the ex-Lottie de Vere on this peaceful scene. The moral of the book is good without being intrusive, and the descriptions of middle-class country life, as well as that above it, are decidedly superior to the general average." — Morning Post. When ' The Golden Milestone ' appeared a little more than a year ago we recognised an amount of freshness and originality in it which we welcomed in due form, and this second book by the same author has gained in strength. . . . The book is an eloquent study of a life, marred by an early and injudicious marriage, in which there is equal truth and pathos. ...

A word here and a touch there, and the person bound to play the very smallest part in the story is described to us with his or her pet weaknesses, small faults, and good points so ably depicted, that we recognise their prototypes among our daily surroundings. . . . The author's humour is of fine flavour and highly civilised, at the same time that he seems to have a wide and varied experience of life, which he does not hesitate to let his readers share. Indeed, the book contains a quite remarkable vividness of personification and description, which causes it to rank very far above most contemporary works of fiction. It teaches sound moral lessons, it places a premium on virtue, and vice is punished in a wholesome and wholesale fashion. It has literary qualities which should satisfy the most mature taste, and a realistic power of the very best and most healthy kind. ...

Chapter II. Under The Spell

The genesis and the exodus of good resolutions, are subjects whose complexity defies human speculation. I firmly believe that if all the good resolutions which are made, could be kept, very little of a sensational character would ever happen in this world. " I'll never do so any more," is the instinctive cry of human nature in its more serious moments, from the urchin caught stealing apples, to the criminal convicted of murder. Cecil Conway admitting overnight the advisability — for reasons best known to himself — of leaving Sandcliff without delay, was a totally different person from the Cecil Conway who, as he stood in his sunshiny balcony the next morning, acknowledged that it would be easily possible to be in a less desirable place. We are so much the fools of our senses, that we one and all believe that if a landscape is beautiful, and art or nature please the eye at every turn, we are better off amid such scenes than in less attractive surroundings.

Only here and there some roan, wiser than his fellows, realises that to scour the globe in search of exquisite scenery to ensure our happiness, is the vainest of all vain quests ; for we carry in our own bosoms our heaven or hell. The untroubled quietness and repose of Sandcliff was in Mr. Conway's eyes a powerful recommendation, added to the fact that not a soul in the place knew anything about him. The young misanthrope, because of his history, had excellent reasons for liking any and every place where he was unknown, and would be left in peace. Young as he was, it had already come to that. Society, gaiety, excitement, were already distasteful to him. He only wanted peace. Only wanted what, from the cradle to the grave, not one man in a thousand ever finds. " At any rate, I won't go to-day," concluded he, as he went in to his late breakfast.

" I'll stay a little longer, and explore the neighbourhood first." So he did. He explored the neighbourhood by haunting the cliff path, and the main street of the little town, all that day, raging inwardly at his own folly, while he kept a close watch for a certain gray hat. But he never obtained a passing glimpse of it. " Perhaps she is only a casual stranger, not a resident here," he thought to himself, at last. And his face fell. But next day, Fate was kinder. It was his good fortune to meet her as he turned out of the road leading from the beach into the town. It was a most sudden and unexpected encounter, and while his eyes eagerly devoured every feature of her exquisite face, she never saw him — not at all. Her great, wide-open, innocent eyes were fixed seaward, as if scanning the horizon in search of a new continent.

They were utterly unconscious of anything so mundane as a young man in a tweed suit — although he had risked his life two days before to save her hat from destruction. He drew a long breath of relief when he saw that, mindful of the fact that there had been no formal introduction, she resolutely ignored his presence. " Thank Heaven, she isn't one of ihut sort !" he said to himself, with an accent of intense thankfulness, as he leant thoughtfully over the railing of a sort of cage facing the sea, enclosing two seats for the better enjoyment of the view. How peaceful it was, this bay enclosed by two bold headlands, with the little crisp waves lapping soothingly on the shingle beneath ! " The sort of place to come to for one's honeymoon," meditated Mr. Conway, leisurely tapping his boot against the iron railing.

And then, with a sudden fierce and bitter passion, evidently prompted by some galling recollection, he added savagely, "Curse her !" The brightness faded from the landscape, and a gray pall obscured the happy sky. Between him and hope, and happiness, and peace, there stood — there must ever stand — one woman's face ; one hated woman's face. He strolled back to the " Crown," where he found his solitary luncheon awaiting him. The pompous head waiter, who in his way was a student of human nature, eyed him narrowly as he placed and removed the dishes. He scented a mystery of no common order in this tweed-coated, restless, solitary young man. He had been a week at the hotel, without affording the slightest clue to his antecedents. He had merely given " Cecil Conway, London," for his address, in the Visitors' Book.

He paid his first week's bill — which was a stiff .one — without demur, in good notes of the Bank of England ; but for all that, Robert would not have liked to take his oath that he was not a member of the swell-mob in disguise. There were many resident gentry round Sandcliff, and an attack upon their plate and jewels might be the real object of his visit. He had not much luggage, and he decidedly avoided company. The billiard-room at the " Crown " was frequented in the evening by the gilded youth of the place, among whom Mr. Conway might, had he chosen, have whiled away an hour ; but he never set foot within its doors. Solitary walks seemed to be more to his taste, or reading the London papers, of which a prodigious heap arrived by post every morning for the mysterious guest. Robert scrutinised their wrappers, without learning anything.

They were all despatched from one newsagent in Oxford Street. " I'd give something to know who you are, young man, when you are at home," soliloquised the waiter as he went downstairs with the tray. The restlessness which appeared ingrained in Mr. Conway's character, would not let him sit still long after luncheon was despatched. He flung down all his papers pell-mell on the table, and, with his hands in his pockets, sauntered out into the sunny street opposite the hotel. He plodded slowly along, looking into the shop-windows, whose contents he knew by heart already. There was the advertisement which had been exhibited by all the tradesmen, ever since he came to Sandcliff, of " Lost, a Gold Brooch on the Sands;" there were the same woolly lambs in the toyshop window, the same gaudy ribbons, "All at 2f d.," in the milliner's. He was yawning profoundly, in involuntary compliment to the sleepiness of the place, when the tones of a voice, speaking inside the principal bookseller's, arrested his attention.

He stopped, and pretended to be absorbed in the titles of some novels in the window, as the girl in the gray hat, and an elderly lady, emerged conversing together, and paused outside to shake hands, " Well, good-bye, my dear," concluded the senior, " I am going this way. By-the-bye, we shall see you at the concert to-night?" " Yes, we are all going. I think it will be rather fun. Don't you?" "I only hope none of the performers will break down," said the elder lady, as she nodded to her companion, and turned down a side street. The girl went a few yards further, and disappeared inside a draper's. Mr. Conway took a sudden resolution, and entered the shop — a very Biblical and Prayer-booky repository of a severely correct type. " I understand there is to be a concert to-night," began the young man, addressing the courteous proprietor, who evidently at once detected him as a stranger.

" Yes, sir, for the parish schools. An excellent programme, sir ; there it is. Front seats one shilling, back seats sixpence." Having laid down the modest sum demanded, the stranger became the happy possessor of a slip of blue pasteboard, bearing in large letters the word "Reserved." He carelessly remarked, as he put it into his waistcoat pocket — " By the way, can you tell me the name of that young lady who was in here just now ? " " That was Miss Florence Hillier, sir, our Rector's youngest daughter. What did you think of our church, sir 1 I saw you there on Sunday. I sing in the choir." " You saw me ! " said Mr. Conway, apparently not too well pleased. "Yes, sir, I noticed you were a stranger, and there are not many in Sandcliff just now. Is there nothing I can show you to-day, sir ? If you are making any stay in the place, I shall be very happy to supply you with anything you require."

"Nothing else to-day, thank you," said Mr. Conway, edging out of the shop. He preferred not to be cross-examined by the loquacious proprietor, who evidently was inquisitive concerning him. Not knowing anything of the local code of etiquette, he took the trouble of putting himself into a swallow-tail and white tie; and when he arrived at the schoolroom, where the concert was to be held, had the satisfaction of being the only man — except ing the performers— in evening dress, in the room. It was a homely, friendly sort of entertainment, where all the people knew each other, and ceremony was the last thing thought of. The rescued gray hat was there in the second row ; and Mr. Conway had the pleasure of seeing some half-dozen young men buzzing about it like flies round a honey-pot. The first part of the programme consisted of the praiseworthy vocal and instrumental efforts of local amateurs ; and the entertainment concluded with the representation of " Trial by Jury," in which the fair plaintiff, her bevy of pretty bridesmaids, the jury with their wreaths awry, and the rest of the dramatis personæ acquitted themselves to the entire satisfaction of their friends.

Mr. Conway yawned a good deal during the performance, but the rest of the audience applauded with genuine delight, very unlike the frozen calm of the stalls of a London theatre. When, at the conclusion, the Rector rose and thanked all those who had so kindly given their services, announcing that the result would be a very substantial gain to the funds, the clapping was prodigious. On the whole, it was so utterly unlike anything Cecil Conway had ever experienced before, that he felt touched, in spite of himself, by the simple cordiality and good-nature of the Sandcliff people. He took the trouble of following the gray hat home, at a respectful distance, until it disappeared with a large party of people inside the gate of the tree-embosomed Rectory ; and then tramped back to the " Crown," where his solitary sitting room, furnished in the very unhomelike fashion of a pretentious seaside hotel, looked less attractive than ever that night.

" Miss Florence Hillier, the Rector's youngest daughter," he mused, as he sat down to ruminate for a few minutes before going to bed. "An admirably brougbt-up young lady, no doubt, with any amount of conscientiousness, and a righteous horror of sinners ! Just the very last girl in the world to 0 you fool ! As if it matters to you what Florence Hillier, or any other woman is ! " But although daily accustomed to rail against his own folly, Mr. Conway still stayed on at Sandcliff. Every night he vowed should be his last ; every morning found him eager for " Just one more day." He had so long permitted himself to act on impulse without once stopping to count the cost, that he had lost the power of stern resolution necessary to enable him to carry out a disagreeable task. Haunted by Florence Hillier's face, he could not bear to leave the place.

The stars in their courses seemed to sight for him. Some where — either on the beach, or on the cliff, or in the High Street, or in one of tlie neighbouring country lanes — the two young people met each other almost every day ; and on Sundays there was always the resource of the Parish Church, where Mr. Conway worshipped Florence most devoutly. Yet he was most careful to avoid anything like rude persecution, or impertinence; although the spell Laurie exercised upon him was so strong that he felt that if he did not see her sometimes, he must die. Love at first sight has been sneered at so often that I know many people will declare that such an infatuation is utterly im possible and imaginary ; and that men do not fall in love in such a haphazard fashion, but that esteem, friendship, and a hundred other fine things must first lead up to affection.

I can only say that the number of pairs of boots Mr. Conway — who was by no means a raw country bumpkin — wore out in hurrying through byways, or over the shingle on the beach, when he fancied he caught a glimpse of Florence Hillier in the distance, formed a very unromantic proof of the reality of his devotion. Soon the good people of Sandcliff were familiar with the young stranger from London, and had gratefully accepted him as a fresh item in their daily gossip. They became accustomed to the sight of his tall gray figure scaling the steep path up the cliff, or striding along the roads. They wondered what induced him to stay at Sandcliff, where his only amusements seemed to be an occasional pull round the headland, or a sail in the one hireable yacht the place afforded. " So he is still here, you see !" remarked Katie Armstrong to her friend Florence one morning, after the stranger had passed them in the High Street.

"Who is here?" asked Miss Hillier, with a fine assumption of indifference. Katie laughed outright. " My dear girl, you know as well as I do." " I know you are a very silly girl ! " returned the beauty calmly. " I have eyes in my head though, for all that. Do you mean to say, Laurie, that you've not noticed that you meet Mr Con way wherever you go ? " " Sandcliff is such a small place," said Florence, blushing. " I wonder who he is," mused Katie. " He must have plenty of money and very little to do, or he wouldn't stay so long at the " Crown." Why, I do believe he is going to meet us again ! He has only been to the top of the street, and come back by the short way. Suppose we go into Turner's shop to avoid him. Shall we ? " " I am not going to do anything so undignified," was Laurie's crushing answer.

" Besides, how do you know that he is doing it on purpose ? It is pure conjecture on your part, Katie." "I shall soon begin to think you are as foolish as he is !" was shrewd Katie's significant remark, hurriedly uttered so as to be inaudible to Mr. Conway, who was nearly close to them. The effect of the words was to call up a lovely flush to Laurie's face, which made it seem even more radiantly beautiful than ever to the young misanthrope, advancing with rapid steps. One swift, shy, artless interchange of glances between her eyes, gray as a wood-pigeon's wing, and his somewhat weary and cynical brown ones, helped to complete the mischief which had already been begun. Laurie was too innocent, as well as too happy, to try to analyse her own feelings ; but she had a lurking consciousness that Sandcliff streets would lose all their charm if there were no longer the possibility of meeting that gray figure anywhere, although they passed each other as strangers, without speaking.

"The moth and the candle !" he was saying bitterly to him self meanwhile, as he hurried on. "Why am I such a fool? Why can't I break away from the spell that girl has cast upon me, before it is too late ? I have only to go to the " Crown," pack up, pay my bill, and go to London no, I can't go to London," with a sudden expression of disgust overspreading his handsome features. " Because she's there, and I don't want to meet her ! Or there's Angleshire but there's no hunting or shooting going on now, and I should be bored to death in a week ! I wish I had gone to Brighton, or Folkestone, or any place on the earth but Sandcliff ! Does that girl guess, I wonder, that I can't forget her, do what I may? And if she did guess, would she care? How she would despise me thougli if she only knew the truth ! And yet she couldn't despise me more than I despise myself !"

Chapter III. Mr

CONWAY GOES INTO SOCIETY. It had come ! Florence Hillier had expected it all along. A kind of pro phetic intimation had been upon her, ever since that memorable Easter Sunday, that the course of her life was about to take a turn, and that this year would not be just like all the preced ing years. So little is really needed to change the whole current of an existence. An introduction or a non-introduction may make or mar a life. It was a glorious May afternoon, and the first tennis-party of the season was being given at the Elliotts'. Tennis always began early at Sandcliff', where the warm gravelly soil prevented the turf from ever being very damp. The Elliotts lived in a rambling old house in the outskirts of the town, surrounded by beautiful gardens ; and their entertainments were always the most popular in the place.

The late spring flowers began to look rather faded and shabby, while it was too early for most of the blooms of summer; but these deficiencies were atoned for by the exquisite freshness and delicacy of the young foliage, the rich warm brown of the copper-beeches, and the mingled hues of lilac and laburnum. The beautifully kept lawn spread into the distance like a carpet of green velvet ; the numbers of wide white lines and carefully stretched nets holding forth the promise of Elysium to the ardent tennis-player. The Hilliers were there of course, for no local gathering was complete without them ; and there was a whole bevy of Arm strongs, and other leading families in the neighbourhood. There was a large muster of men equipped in flannels ; and a more than equal proportion of fair maidens, in fresh bright new dresses.

The guests had scattered about, as they usually do on such occasions, some in the drawiug-room with the hostess, some wandering about the grounds, some pacing the tennis courts like connoisseurs. Florence Hillier was standing on the si stone-paved terrace, just outside the open French window at the end of the drawing-room, talking to some friends, when on the lawn below she caught a glimpse of a gray coat and pair of shoulders which she thought she knew, and, at the mere supposition, her heart began to beat wildly. She herself was all in white — a tennis-dress of some soft woollen material, and a straw hat trimmed with white ribbon. The costume was almost childish in its simplicity, but never in her whole life had she looked more lovely. " Come Florence, come girls, and let's have some sets made up as soon as possible," said good-natured, bustling Mr. Elliott, coming forward from amid a little knot of cronies.

" The young fellows are all anxiety to begin." Laurie followed her host down the steps on to the lawn, and instantly became oblivious of all else, as a pair of hazel eyes were fixed on hers. She had a vague idea of Mr. Elliott saying, " Mr. Conway — Miss Florence Hillier," and adding something about leaving them to make up a set ; but whether she bowed, or what she said or did, she had no idea. He was all in white, too, from head to foot, now that he had taken off his gray coat. There was not a hint or suggestion of colour anywhere about him. although most of the other gentlemen had caps, or belts, or handkerchiefs, of some college or club to individualize them selves. The white was exceedingly becoming to him, throwing out his somewhat bronzed complexion to great advantage. It is not every day that such a handsome pair is seen, as the two who stood side by side that day under the great cedar.

Unexpected as was his appearance, she was not at all astonished. It seemed to her the most natural thing in the world to find him there ; as it was unquestionably the most delightful. She had all along felt sure that she should meet him — in the society sense of the words — somewhere, some day. And now that they had been formally introduced, and were at liberty to converse to their hearts' content, she had the oddest feeling that, after all, they had no need to say much to each other; they had already been acquainted so long. She stole one exquisite, timid, enquiring look up at him, from under the broad brim of her hat ; and dropped her eyes on the green turf, afraid to encounter a second time such a glance as met hers. "Shall we play, Miss Hillier?" he asked, balancing his racket with the careless skill of a practised hand.

" If you like," she said, quietly. If he had proposed a walk over burning ploughshares, she would have gone willingly. " You two play Miss Armstrong and me," said Henry Elliott, their host's second son, coming forward with Katie. " I'll spin for courts, Conway. Rough or smooth ? " The preliminaries adjusted, the play began. The first service fell to Laurie's share, and this day she surpassed her self, returning swift balls and taking back-handed strokes as she had never done in her life before. She felt as if she were capable of anything, as her eye fell on the graceful figure of her partner ; who, in his turn, played far better than most amateurs, volleying splendidly, and placing well. The set was simply a triumphal progress for those two ; their adversaries never won a game. The other side insisted on their revenge, and an exchange of courts, but the result was still the same.

Henry Elliott and his partner retired laughingly discomfited, and Mr. Conway and Laurie went to find a seat. He ensconced her in a basket-chair in the shade, brought her an ice, and then seated himself in another chair by her side, with the long-drawn sigh of a man who is too utterly happy to conceal his bliss. "I did not know you knew the Elliotts," remarked Florence after a pause. "I met Mr. Elliott in the train, coming from Beachbourne one day, and we got into conversation, when it turned out that lie knows some people I know too, and he invited me to dine here. The Sandcliff' people seem very hospitable to strangers." "Do you like Sandcliff?" asked Laurie, demurely, anxious if possible, to arrive at his reasons for remaining so long. " Who could help it ? " he began, as if intending to say more ; and then, impatiently creaking his chair, added, "What a pretty garden this is !

" " Yes, Mr. Elliott takes great pride in it. No doubt you admire it even more than I do, if you are accustomed to live in London." " I am not often in London. I have been abroad a good deal." "Yes," said Florence, unconsciously thinking aloud, "I remember you said, that day that my hat blew over the cliff, that you had just returned from the Himalayas." " Why, that was a month ago, at least," said the young man bending a piercing gaze upon her from beneath his white cap c " And you mean to say that you have remembered it all this time ? " There was a strange eagerness in his voice, which made her heart beat madly, and her eyes droop. He seemed about to add something else, when suddenly that strange, unyouthful sigh of his sounded on the balmy air ; and, evidently desirous to change the subject, he said in a business-like tone — " Will you let me look at your racket?

What weight do you prefer?" And the talk drifted off to tournaments, handicaps, and famous players, before Florence could ascertain any more about her companion. She was innocently curious to learn where he lived, and what his home was like, as a girl naturally is, concerning all that relates to the man who has touched her heart. Florence, used to the frank candour of their Sandcliff friends, whose affairs were town property, was somewhat surprised by Mr. Conway's exceeding reticence concerning him self, when the conversation at length came round again to personal matters. He did, however, inform her that he had chambers in London, in St. James's Street, that his father and mother were dead, that he had lived much abroad, and that he had neither brother nor sister. " How lonely for you ! " said the kind-hearted girl.

" But I suppose you have a great many friends ? " " I know a good many people certainly ; and there are my old schoolfellows. 1 was at Eton, you know," he said, as if reluctant to make even that slight admission ; and a curious shade passed over his face. " Father was at Winchester," said Laurie, softly. " I must introduce you to him before we go. He has noticed you at church, very often." Conscious of the very mundane motives which led him to St. John's, Mr. Conway felt somewhat embarrassed at the idea that the Rector probably ascribed to him a piety which he did not possess. " I am not much of a church-goer as a rule," he said honestly. " Indeed, I shouldn't like to say how long it was since I had been inside a church, when I came here. You mustn't think better of me than I deserve, Miss Hillier."

Further conversation was stopped by one of the Elliott "iris, who came up to entreat Laurie and her partner to make up another set ; and they played until the carriages were brought round for the departing guests. " Curious fellow that Conway," remarked Henry Elliott to Florence, as a temporary confusion among the others threw them together, and isolated the young stranger. " Close as wax ; can't make anything out about him, or his people, or his means, or anything. The governor seems no end taken with him, but I don't know — I don't know," said the young fellow, sagely, stroking his moustache. "I hope he's all fair and above board, and that's all I can say." The chill which these dubious words produced in Laurie's warm young heart passed away when the unconscious subject of them again made his way to her side.