Thrilling Detective Stories

Front matter

a NEW SIX SHILLING NOVELS Crown 8vo, Cloth THE INTERPRETERS. By Margar- ETTA BYRDE. CTARS OF DESTINY. By L. Parry "-' Truscott. THE CASE OF MISS ELLIOTT. By the Baroness Orczy. THE YARN OF OLD HARBOUR TOWN. By W. Clark Russell. npHE FLUTE OF PAN. By John Oliver *■ HOBBES. •y HE PROGRESS OF PRISCILLA. By -* Lucas Cleeve. London : T. FISHER UNWIN. BY A. CURTIS SHERWOOD Author of "Harcourt," etc. [In] " Furious formalisms we but hear The clash of tides that meet in narrow seas, Not the Great Voice, nor the True Deep." LONDON T. FISHER UNWIN PATERNOSTER SQUARE i9°5 All Rights Reserved " It is necessary that religion should be held and professed in a liberal spirit. Just as far as it assumes an intolerant form, it subverts, instead of strengthens, the soul's freedom. . . . There are countless ways by which men in a free country may encroach on their neighbours' rights.

In religion, the instrument is ready made and always to hand." W. E. Channing. "Religion must be viewed ... as the property of every human being, and as the great subject for every human mind." W. E. Channing. v CONTENTS CHAP. PAGE I. Introduces a few People . . i II. Introduces Miss Pole ... 8 III. A Bonfire . . . .19 IV. " Instant in Business Serving the Lord" ..... 26 V. The Gospel of Work . . .38 VI. Richard Goodridge . . -55 VII. Lent — "Let all Things be done decently and in Order" . . 66 VIII. Lent — Mrs Dane Fasts . . -77 IX. Lent — Richard Goodridge remembers it . . . -95 X. In Lissie's Studio . . . 106 XL Mrs Welch's Good Works . . 116 XII. "A Credible Religion" . . 133 XIII. An Arrested Development . . 153 CONTENTS CHAP. PAGE XIV. "They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their Strength" . 169 XV.

Mrs Welch wishes to be good and Miss Pole takes up her Cross . 179 XVI. Some Politicians . . .188 XVII. Where the Spirit is there is Liberty 205 XVIII. "Whom the Lord loveth He Chasteneth " . . . .214 XIX. Mrs Dane's Garden-Party . .225 XX. A Matter of Temperament . . 247 XXI. " Leave we now Thy Servant Sleeping " 254 XXII. "The Great Trumpet shall be blown AND THEY . . . SHALL WORSHIP THE LORD " 263 XXIII. Some little Fusses . . . 282 XXIV. Richard Goodridge is Converted and Mr Dane is Shocked . . 298 XXV. Farewell . . . .

Chapter I Introduces

A FEW PEOPLE " Isn't it about time we were going? " The words came in a carefully hushed whisper from an old man with a massive white head, and were addressed to a girl whom he had called away from a group of young people. They stood at one end of a crowded drawing-room in the Mansion House of Carrow. The girl laughed, but made no other reply. Mr Goodridge slowly turned his back upon the room. After throwing a glance across his shoulder to see if he were observed, he stealthily took out his watch. "Lissie" — his tone was that of one shocked — "it's half-past twelve ." "Poor uncle," said Lissie; "you wish you were in your warehouse, don't you ? " " I wish I were in bed, the proper place for respectable folk at this time of night." He concealed a yawn behind a large strong hand. " Well," said his niece, consolingly, " people will soon be leaving now."

The present Mayor of Carrow was an old friend of Joseph Goodridge's, and it was out of respect for this friendship rather than from social inclination, that Mr Goodridge was present at this the concluding reception of the mayoral year. A The remark drew a sigh of relief from Mr Goodridge, and again facing the room he looked about among the people near him. A restless-looking woman, whose slight figure was well set off by a handsome yellow frock, caught his eye. Unlike the majority of the mayor's guests, she wore a large number of jewels. " Emma Welch's got a fortune on her," he observed; "that is, if they're real. Most things about Emma aren't real. But if they are, put out at five per cent, they'd bring in something. I don't like to see good money lying idle. Dane must have spent a lot on those flowers," glancing round at the decorated walls.

"You think 'em pretty? Well, mebbe they are. Emma looks well enough too, so far as that goes, but it's a waste — a great waste. Ah, what a lot that woman thinks of her plumage. But it isn't plumage, because plumage is a part of the bird seeing it grows it itself, whereas dress is bought at a shop. But she thinks more of her dress than of her body, and more of her body than of her soul. Mebbe we all do," he added. " I mustn't set up as a Pharisee at my time of life." Lissie, who had a keen eye for effects, saw that Mrs Welch's style of dressing suited her, over-dressed though Emma was. Not that Lissie cared much for the sheen of satin, the glint of jewels. The flowers, the blue sky, the hills were lovelier to her sight than the prettiest of ornaments. " Mr Brown," Mr Goodridge proceeded, " said you were one of the best-dressed girls here, and I think you are."

His tone was not that of flattery, but of business-like appraisement of a piece of property which, being his own, he rated at its highest value. Lissie saw that her frock was neither so new nor so beautiful as several of those worn by people within her view. Mr Goodridge, however, had no admira- INTRODUCES A FEW PEOPLE 3 tion {or les modes. As a rule, he did not notice them. When he did, it was usually to deride them. An occasional amusement on a Sunday afternoon was to sit in his window and watch " the fashions," with fre quent ejaculations of — "What a sight!" "Look! Her skirt's in the mud ! " " My ! Those feathers do blow ! " The plainest of frocks was to his mind the prettiest. " Mrs Dane looks nice," Lissie said. Mr Goodridge glanced at a pretty blonde woman chatting with a clergyman.

" Yes, she looks very well," he replied. " That's the new vicar of St Barnabas she's talking to." Mrs Dane's head was slightly bent, and her china blue eyes were turned upwards with an air of inno cence which, but for a hint of artifice, might have seemed childlike. Her smile was an extremely pleasant one, dimpling her cheeks and appearing to suffuse her whole face with amiability. " I take a great interest in parish matters," she was saying ; " and as my dear husband occupies a position of some importance in the town, I have my little opportunities. We had a bazaar last year, and realised five hundred pounds." " And," replied the vicar, with an old-fashioned courtliness of manner which, though stiff, had a measure of charm, " I shall have no difficulty in guessing to whom we owe most thanks for that admirable result."

"You are too kind," she smiled. "But I did indeed work hard. When I put my heart and soul into a thing, I always do. Mr Dane often fears that I may overstrain myself. I could do so much more if I were less delicate in health." " Ah, you must not over-work yourself, you must not indeed," Mr Baring sympathetically urged. He found Mrs Dane very agreeable. She had listened attentively to his conversation, and had expressed herself in complete agreement with all his most cherished views. " Yes, good folks are scarce." Mr Goodridge's jovial voice addressed his hostess. "So we must take care of 'em when we've got 'em." " How nice you both are," Mrs Dane replied. A new thought struck her, and she addressed the vicar in a low tone. " I will do as you wish," she said. " I agree with you, Mrs Welch is a good, nice woman, and people have — as she says— behaved badly to her.

I will try and put things right. I think," meditatively looking about her, " I will begin with Lissie Horner." With much rustling of her blue silk train she moved gracefully away. " Lissie," Mrs Dane drew the girl aside. " I want you to go and speak to poor Mrs Welch. She thinks you have behaved badly to her, and feels it so much." Lissie looked surprised, but a slim young man who stood beside her, laughed. Mrs Dane looked vaguely into the young man's face. " You will have your joke, Jeff," she murmured. " Come, Lissie, dear." Lissie hesitated. She had tried friendship with Emma Welch and had found it to be on her own side only. Emma had at times been pleasant to her face, but for the most part treacherous, mischief making and disagreeable behind her back. " But why?" Lissie asked, evading the soft clasp Mrs Dane sought to lay on her arm.

" Oh, Lissie," Mrs Dane reproached her, " why can't you be kind to poor Mrs Welch ? Mr Baring, though he has only met her twice, is convinced that she is a good, nice woman." The slim youth laughed again. Mrs Dane ignored him. Lissie, to oblige Mrs Dane, made a step towards the lady in yellow. Mrs Dane, beaming satisfaction, clasped her arm and led her onwards. INTRODUCES A FEW PEOPLE 5 Jeff Goodridge watched what he inwardly termed " the performance " with interest. " Liz doesn't like it," he thought. " She knows it's all sham. What terrible lies Emma does tell ! Her page in the Book of Judgment will be full of 'em. Clever of her to put the blame on Lissie — yet no, it isn't clever, because it's sure to be found out. One of Emma's good points is that she gets found out. If she could find herself out, she would be all the better.

As it is, however mum we may be, and however many chances are given her, she will insist on knocking over her own apple-cart. If we pity her and excuse her one minute, lo and behold the next she's on her high horse triumphantly making fresh mischief and getting herself into fresh disgrace." His expression was exceedingly inquisitive as he scrutinised Mrs Welch's dark face. Emma's black eyes flickered as she saw Mrs Dane and Lissie approaching, then hardened into a steady smiling gaze. Mrs Dane thought she looked pleasant, Lissie thought she looked guileful. She stood very erect, and she went through " the per formance " with more show of reality than Lissie could command. "There!" Mrs Dane exclaimed, having seen the two shake hands. Her pretty face beamed with pleasure. She liked to do deeds of kindness.

" I hope," said Mr Baring to Joseph Goodridge, " that our hostess's good offices will be crowned with success." " Well, I don't," Mr Goodridge replied. " There's no sense in 'em." Mr Baring, with an expression of polite inquiry awaited explanation of this, to his mind, erroneous judgment. " I mean, it's better Lizzie shouldn't try friendship with Emma again. Emma, no doubt, has her good points, but she isn't good to Lizzie. Mrs Dane's a nice, kind woman, but, like Lissie herself in a different way, she hasn't got enough sense. Now, my wife, there, is a sensible woman, the most sensible woman in Carrow." Mr Baring's manner changed. Mr Dane hadtold him that Goodridge was a leading Nonconformist in the town, he knew Mrs Welch to be a Churchwoman, and he suspected sectarian animosity in Mr Good ridge's attitude towards her.

Fortunately Mrs Dane returned and drew him into conversation with her, and Mr Goodridge joined another little group of people. The mayor, a small dapper man some years his wife's senior, was talking with Mrs Goodridge. Mrs Goodridge was well known in Carrow as a practical woman of affairs. Plain of dress and of features, she yet had the charm of honesty, good sense and dry humour. " Ah, these modern notions," Mr Dane was saying, " where will they take us ? " As he spoke, he rubbed his hands lightly together with a fidgetiness char acteristic of them when unoccupied, though in his younger days they had been steady and skilful in many delicate surgical operations. He had recently retired from his profession, and was much sought after for public work. " To something better than we've ever had before," Mrs Goodridge, with a half-humorous air of brave confidence in the future, replied.

" I wish I could think so," the mayor retorted. He was not of a progressive temper, and some of the tendencies of his day were antipathetic to him. " We have to judge each age by its own light — not by that before or after," she suggested. A burst of music from the musicians' gallery stopped the conversation. Lissie Horner, who had been smiling and talking, was swayed by it to another mood. She was an artist in the first flush of en- INTRODUCES A FEW PEOPLE 7 thusiasm for her art, and was inclined to magnify its joys. The wail of the violins in a dreamy measure touched emotions connected with her artistic feelings. She thought of her studio, and felt a sudden weariness of talk, and pretty frocks, and glittering jewels ; a sudden feeling of mental emptiness. Something in the music reminded her of an old mission hymn, — " Soul of mine, so wildly pleading, Why art thou not satisfied ?" And again the violins seemed to cry, — " Soul of mine, so wildly pleading, Why art thou not satisfied ? "

Chapter II Introduces Miss Pole

A SLIGHT figure, wearing a thin black cape, the old fashioned fringe of which waved as she walked, entered Mr Baring's study, and timidly shrank upon the edge of a chair. In her hand she held a battered tin can which, after seating herself, she clasped on her knees. She was Miss Selina Pole, a district visitor in the parish of St Barnabas. She had come for advice on a parish matter, consideration of which had knit her small flat brow into lines of painful perplexity. " Won't you come nearer the fire ? " the vicar inquired. It was a cold January morning, and he noticed that her face was pinched and blue. " No, thank you," Miss Pole replied in a thin piping voice. Her throat, above a low neckband trimmed with white crochet work, throbbed nervously. He pressed her to take a chair by the fire, and she did so.

He listened to her recital of her difficulty, with great kindness. " I think," he said, after she finished speaking, " that as either of the courses you suggest would do very well, it would be better for me to leave the choice to you." Miss Pole sighed, and nervously opened and shut the lid of her can, in which she was taking soup to a sick man. The can was well-known among the poor of her district, and excited mixed feelings of appreciation and amusement. " Is there anything more you wish to ask me ? " the vicar inquired, after waiting a few moments, during which the click of the can lid was the only sound breaking the silence. She rose with a jerk. " No, thank you," she replied. She still showed distress, however, and Mr Baring did not wish her to go away with her mind unrelieved of its anxiety.

" Pray tell me — are you in trouble about anything? " he inquired encouragingly. " Only about the matter as to which I have consulted you," she replied sorrowfully. " Ah ! " said the vicar. " I see you would like me to decide for you." He looked down into the large grey eyes of his visitor. There was no eagerness and little vitality in them, but they beamed softly as with inward joy. " If I am not troubling you too much." " I am only too pleased to help you. I think, if I were you, I would try the newer street first." The lines on her brow lessened. "You think people would be satisfied if I took that course?" He thought he caught a hint as to his decision not being the one she desired, and benevolently hastened to change it. " Well," he replied, after appearing to solemnly ponder the question, " perhaps, on the whole, it would be better to take the other street first.

Yes, certainly, on the whole, perhaps that would be the best thing to do." So sudden and momentous a change perplexed her anew. He was to her emphatically the priest, one whose words and example must by reason of the sacredness of his office have more weight than those of a layman. " Then you think — " meek but troubled she murmured. " Yes," he said authoritatively, " by all means take the older street first." The strength of his character and of his decision drove her perplexity away, and she beamed gratitude upon him from her large light eyes. She approached the door and, as if overcome by his condescension in opening it for her, shrank along the hall. Her shabby clothing did not win her much courtesy in the streets, and she did not " go into society." As she trotted along the crowded pavement, looking with a gaze almost ecstatic straight in front of her, she mused upon his goodness.

Her late vicar had been less authoritative when consulted upon matters of importance. It was such a relief to rely upon a strong mind like Mr Baring's, to take his decision as final. Puzzling out things made her head ache. . . . Her meditations came to a sudden end in a hasty skip off the pavement to avoid colli sion with a tall, broad man who, with widely flying coat and widely swinging arms, was approaching. Two small eyes, set in a face somewhat bloated, glanced down at her shrinking figure from a con siderable height above her. Some children hastily scattered before him, and with a kind of good humoured contempt he walked over their toys. He was Richard Goodridge, a nephew of Joseph Good ridge, and known to Miss Pole as a drunkard and an atheist. The two nouns were with her practically synonymous.

Carrow was a large commercial town, and the parish of St Barnabas was a complete change from the quiet east-country village in which for ten years Mr Baring had been located. Here was the vigorous, pushing life of a large middle-class and working-class population, sturdy and self-sufficient, and Mr Baring, himself a lover of old-world standards and methods, and a Tory resenting much in modern Conservatism as democratic, had already been brought into contact with interests and individualities which had excited his dislike. He had, however, found others, notably the Danes, whom he felt to be sympathetic, and was entering upon his newsphere with satisfaction and zeal. Finding a scarcity of district visitors, he went to consult Mrs Dane as to persons suitable for the work. Mrs Dane and her drawing-room were both charming.

She was a woman with a liking for costly and beautiful objects, and a talent for tasteful arrangement of them. The vases and pictures, the wall-paper and carpet had all been carefully chosen, and the pretty blonde woman reclining on a small couch was in harmony with her surroundings. Mr Baring's features softened, and his manner and voice became bland, as he entered the room, from which all noise from outside was shut out by double-sashed windows and thick velvet curtains. Mrs Dane's eyelids had on them the languor of interrupted sleep, but she welcomed him cordially. She had many dear friends she told him, but was too delicate to be as sociable as she would have liked, and was now resting from the fatigues of the mayoral year. " I intend to observe Lent very strictly this year," she said.

" As you say, it is our solemn duty to do so. And I believe I have made a convert. I spoke to my laundress the other day, and I believe she will, for the future, deny herself meat on Fridays. I am sorry to say our late vicar did not encourage me in Lenten observances. He rather smiled, I thought, when I spoke of my self-denials, and altogether hardly took them in the right spirit." A little cloud flitted across her face. Mrs Welch had confided to her that the late vicar had spoken of her, Mrs Dane, as "foolish and selfish." "How could he be so un kind when I was so good to him ? " she asked herself. A work-basket stood near the couch, and she took from it a partly-knitted stocking. With an air of industry she knitted a few loops. " I shall try to be a little more self-denying than usual this coming Lent," she proceeded, " and to let all my household share my privileges.

I believe," firmly, " that all are equal before God." " While we desire to retain wise and proper dis tinctions between class and class, it is yet right that we should all participate in the blessings of Holy Eucharist," the vicar solemnly replied. " Yes, I allow them to attend early-morning Eucharist as often as I can. It is," with a sweet patient smile, " tiresome sometimes, but I am glad to have an opportunity for practising a little self-denial. I was so disappointed one day last year with Jack son, my housemaid. She told me she valued the privilege of attending early Eucharist fasting, and I found her drinking tea before going. She said she had to keep up her strength, and hinted that she could not have a sleep after lunch as I might. I felt inclined to dismiss her, but decided to be patient with her.

There are babes in Christ as well as full-grown women. Certainly she is very much grown — such big red arms," laughingly. " I have considerable sympathy," Mr Baring replied, " with the view taken by some excellent people, that compulsion, if not by law then by the force of public opinion, towards the observance of our religious duties may be of great benefit to us. You did not dismiss her then?" Mrs Dane's face fell, as if she feared she had failed in a duty. She was too kind-hearted to act harshly towards her servants, but her sentiments were set for the time in the direction of a stringent insistence upon the duty of " keeping Lent," whether she put them into practice or left them in the air. She got out of her difficulty by ingeniously using a sentiment of another kind. "No," she replied.

"Mr Dane did not wish it. And I always make a point of yielding my convictions to his, because," with a patient smile, "though he is so kind he cannot stand a difference of opinion. Of course she is a good housemaid, and very punctual, and men think so much of being punctual, don't they — the laity, that is?" she added hastily, lest Mr Baring might be offended. Punctuality was not a virtue she admired. " Ah well," Mr Baring replied, " it was no doubt better to retain her. She may be capable of im provement." " Still, she is a little impertinent sometimes," Mrs Dane complained. " She has a funny name — Ruddy, and may have heard me make a little fun of it, though I never intended to hurt her feelings, and I'm almost sure I once heard her murmur — 'Dane, a funny name, Dane.' But I put up with it," pathetically, "for Mr Dane's sake."

" It is very good of you, very good," the vicar as sured her. " Well now, I should like to consult you about something." Mrs Dane gave him her full attention, and he told her of the deficiency of district visitors. Pressing one of her knitting needles to her cheek, where it made dimples, she reflected a few moments in silence. " I should like to take a district myself," she said at length, " if Mr Dane will allow me. He's so afraid, poor man, that I overwork myself. But I think that the poor, the good poor, are a part of God's providen tial design to call out the virtue of charity in the rich. And I feel so pleased that you should en courage my aspirations. I think," her eyes shining with feeling, " a priest " — she had recently adopted the word in the place of " clergyman " — " should do his utmost to encourage the higher spiritual life in all, but especially in those whose position exposes them to the temptations of luxury and idleness.

I feel that you will help me, and I am so glad." Mr Baring's nature was not a warm one, but her enthusiasm touched him. He thanked her gratefully for her kind words. "What about Mrs Welch?" he asked. "I've noticed that she attends St Barnabas very regularly, and is most devout and attentive." " I don't quite know what to say about her," Mrs Dane replied. " Mr Dane distrusts her, but she tells me it is because the Goodridges prejudice him against her on account of her being richer than they, and attending church instead of chapel." Mr Baring's small blue eyes sparkled, though his strong features remained immovable. He resented bitterly the attacks made by modern Nonconformity upon the rights — as he conceived them to be — of the Anglican Church, and was ready to suspect ill-will to his Church in all persons not subscribing to Anglican tenets.

He felt disposed to dislike " these Goodridges," and to appreciate a person also disap provingthem. Mrs Welch had told him that some Non conforming friends of hers, named Weekes, considered the Anglican Church inferior to their own denomina tion. Probably these Goodridges held similar views. " I think Mrs Welch would do nicely," he said ; and put her name down. " It will give her an opportunity for doing a little useful work. Like me," with a sigh, " she has no little ones to take up her time. She says she would like to adopt one, only it would cause her such agony if after she had learnt to love it it grew up like its parents instead of like herself. She is as sensitive as I am." " She seems to be very energetic," Mr Baring said, " and will, I feel sure, relieve Miss Pole of much of the work she undertakes.

Miss Pole has practically had the whole parish as her district." " Mrs Rose — our late vicar's wife — and her daughters used to do a good deal, I think, but Miss Pole does what she can, and is so willing, so good. But she isn't very bright, Mrs Welch tells me. Mrs Welch thinks she may end her days in a lunatic asylum — in some mild form of lunacy, of course." Mr Baring, unaccustomed to a wildness of state ment characteristic of Mrs Welch, took her opinion of Miss Pole seriously, and hardly knew what to make of it. Miss Pole's dress was odd, certainly, and her manner a little hysterical, but she was a good worker and a good Churchwoman. "There's Lissie Horner," said Mrs Dane. " I'd forgotten her. She lives in the parish, and ought to do something." There was slight dis pleasure shown on her face and in her tone.

Mrs Welch had been telling her Lissie thought her a disagreeable person, and, not suspecting her new friend of untruthfulness, she felt hurt. She had always been nice to Lissie, she was sure. " You may have seen her. She's rather provincial and middle classy — like the Goodridges. She's a quiet girl, but with more in her than's quite nice, Mrs Welch thinks. She pretends to be an artist, but as women's art, Mr Dane says, is always poor, it seems a pity for her to waste time on it. If you could get her to take a district it would be much better, but I fear — I sadly fear — she may excuse herself. I must tell you she isn't very regular in her attendance at church, and if you can give her something to do, it may improve her. It is so sad to see a young woman wasting her time — 'Nothing but leaves,' you know.

Have you heard of Mrs Paton, a person interested in all sorts of fads — Peace, and Education, and all that? Well, she was a great friend of Lissie's grandmother, and has had a bad influence on Lissie, Mrs Welch thinks." " I am sorry to hear it," Mr Baring replied. " I believe I know Mrs Paton's type, and I think such people most mischievous." " She's a very thick-skinned person, Mrs Welch says, and doesn't mind what's said about her absurd ways. Mrs Welch would like to knock her corners off, and grind her down quite smooth and nice ; but she can't. Mrs Paton's such a wilful old woman — she won't be made smooth. At the same time, I must say I find her very nice — most people," archly, " are nice to me — though she does say funny things at times." Mr Baring wondered if Lissie Horner could be quite suitable for district visiting, but, guided by Mrs Dane, he determined to ask her.