A desperate game; a novel

Front matter

O

-ov"

o o o y

Chapter I

At the door of the log-house, where he was sitting in his shirt and leather breeches, riding boots and sombrero hat, Gaspard Farebrother stopped, in his occupation of devouring coarse bread and fat pork, to listen.

Fifteen months of life on a Californian ranch had taught the young Englishman to distinguish the gallop of horses, the whir-r of the long driving-whip, at a great distance.

He got up stiffly, for he had been riding hard that day, and was tired, and, strolling up a slight hill whence he could get a better view of the country, he shaded his eyes with his hand and looked over the plain.

He had not been mistaken. 'There, still in the distance, spurring the hardy little horse he rode as if his life depended upon his pace, was the lithe figure of his younger brother, Michael, coming towards him at the animal’s full speed.

“ What on earth’s the matter with .the fellow ? ”

muttered Gaspard, who knew that, after such a long day as Michael had just had, journeying to the nearest town for the necessary periodical food supplies, it was their custom to jog back at an easy pace.

When Michael had got near enough to see his brother, he took out of one of his pockets and waved aloft a tiny something which Gas^rd guessed must be a letter. And the excitement was explained.

A letter from the old country was even more of a rarity to the young brothers than it is to most exiles. For the lads were orphans ; and their nearest relative, their father's sister, though she had always expressed the greatest affection for the nephews, whose prospects depended upon her, was lazy and by no means a good correspondent.

Gaspard was as much excited as his brother by the time the two met.

“Well, who’s it from, eh?” he asked, before the younger had got near enough to throw him the precious epistle.

But then he was surprised to see that it was more than excitement that burned in Michael’s black eyes and in his bronzed cheeks.

“You’ll see, you’ll see,” answered Michael, as, with fierce irritation in every look and tone and movement, he flung himself off his pony, and turned the animal loose. “We’re paupers, Gaspard, you and I, paupers, my boy, as sure as we stand here ! ”

“ What do you mean — paupers ? ”

“ Read and judge for yourself,” said Michael shortly, as he thrust the sheet of paper into his brother’s hand.

The letter began : “ My dear Michael,” and was in a feminine hand, which Gaspard did not know. So, instead of beginning by reading it, he turned at once to the signature at the end. This was Ellen Chalmers.”

From Mrs. Chalmers, the Vicar’s wife ! ” murmured he in surprise.

“ Yes, yes, go on. Read it,” said Michael, impatiently.

Gaspard obeyed, and read the following : —

My dear Michael, — Of course you will be very much surprised at getting a letter from me, as I have never written to you before, and I should not now but that I think you ought to know what is going on up at The Abbey.

Of course, the Vicar says I am an interfering old busy-body to take any notice of it at all. He says I am the regulation parson’s wife, who will have a finger in every pie and upset the parish if she can. So you see what I have brought upon ^ myself by writing ; yet, nevertheless, I do write, because I feel that 1 ought.

During the last few months a certain individual who calls himself Doctor Skates has been staying down here at St. Mary’s-on-Sea with his wife. He calls himself an American, but I really don’t know what he is. Both he and his wife appear to be very pleasant people, and they have wormed their way into the liking of everybody. (The Vicar says “ wormed their way” is not a right expression. He says the general liking for them is only the natural consequence of their being pleasanter people than the rest of us ; but I’m not going to allow that.)

They appear to be pretty well off ; they have taken a furnished house here, for which they are still paying the winter terms of two guineas a week. (The Vicar says I am a female Paul Pry because I know this. But I don’t care.) Your aunt, Miss Farebrother, seems to be greatly taken both with the Doctor and his wife ; and one or other or both of them have been going to see her regularly every day for some time. Of course, as the Vicar says, this may be all right ; but what I don’t like is that Miss Farebrother seems to have changed a little since these people became so intimate with her. The Doctor goes in for following some sort of new religion — a kind of Spiritualism, I think, and I can’t help fancying that he is trying to make a convert of your aunt.

(The Vicar says that this is my nasty jealousy, because Miss Farebrother has never gone regularly to church. But it is not true. Though she does not often come to church, and never did, she has been just as generous as usual to our little charities, and the Church Warming Fund.)

Now, though I have been uneasy about this for some time, knowing how much you and your brother depend upon your aunt, I should not have ventured to write like this, but for something that happened yesterday. I was going down to leave some tea and a coal ticket for old Saunders, and I happened to pass up the Abbey lane.

And who should be going up the other side but Dr. Skates, with another man, who looked just like a lawyer. The Vicar says I can’t tell a lawyer by the look of him, but I know better ; and though I should not like to repeat the few words I caught of what Dr. Skates was saying to him, I feel sure that they implied that some sort of business was to be transacted with your aunt.

I went home much excited, when I had seen them go through the Abbey gate. The Vicar laughed at me, as usual, and at first forbade me to write to you at all. But when he had thought it over (he says it was to keep me quiet !), he told me that if I didn’t mind making myself a laughing-stock I might send you a few lines, but not a ream. As I think I am getting near the ream now, I will not say any more, except to urge you both, or one of you, at any rate, to come back to England with the least possible delay.

I know Miss Farebrother is a thoroughly good woman ; but if Dr. Skates should not be the disinterested gentleman we hope he is — well, well, perhaps I had better not say any more.

I do hope your stay in California has done Gaspard’s health all the good the doctors hoped from it. From what your aunt has told me of your letters, I believe this has been the case. But if he cannot come back on account of his health, at least I should advise you to do so.

Tell Gaspard to forgive, me for writing to you instead of to him. Although he is the elder, I have thought it best to write to you, as I know, from the wicked pranks you used to play at home, that you have no end of energy, as well as robust health.

Believe me, with kindest regards from the Vicar and myself, to you both.

Yours very sincerely,

Ellen Chalmers.

P. S. — I have just this moment heard that Dr. Skates and his wife are going to stay at The Abbey ! ! ! Now, do you think I am right to write to you ? — E. C.

Gaspard read the letter through slowly, and with the greatest attention. Then he folded it carefully, and the brothers looked at each other.

A pair of bright-faced, handsome lads they were, even in the weather-stained, rough clothing that they wore on the ranch. Perhaps, indeed, the shabby, rusty-colored slouch hat he wore added something to the picturesqueness of Gaspard, a tall, slightly built man of four-and-twenty, whose ragged brown beard and curly hair, blue eyes, and tanned skin, made an ensemble that a painter would have found strikingly attractive.

Michael, the younger by a year and a half, was shorter and of sturdier build ; his black hair was straight, and he had no beard. But in his black eyes there was a devilry, in his movements a restless energy, which would have made him, in many eyes, even more attractive than his handsomerfeatured brother.

He also wore with some grace the ranch costume of leather breeches and loose shirt ; in the interests of truth it is unfortunately necessary to admit that the shirt was never the picturesque red garment of melodrama, but a baggy thing of vague and undecided tints, usually much deteriorated by the laundry methods of the ranch.

‘‘ Well, what do you think ? said Michael.

‘‘ I think things look very dicky,” said Gaspard, rather dismally. Ten to one the old lady’s right, and this Skate is some impostor who has got hold of Aunt.”

Michael nodded.

‘‘We must get back as fast as we can,” said he, with decision.

His elder brother looked surprised.

“ How can we ? ” asked he, blankly. “ We can’t give up the ranch. We can’t trust two raw hands like Haynes and Burrell to do the work by themselves. We can’t ”

“We can, though, and we must,” interrupted Michael, shortly. “ Look here, Gaspard. Our father trusted Aunt to look after us, in consideration of all he did for her ; he lived a bachelor for years to look after her ; and when he married, he considered her more than his wife, more than anybody. Now, if after that, she doesn’t treat us fairly, she deserves to be hanged, that’s all.”

“ There’s no way of forcing her to treat us fairly, though,” said Gaspard, gloomily. “If she chooses not to leave us anything, and to give it all away to Skates, or to an asylum for cats, for that matter, nobody can prevent her. And you know what these old ladies are.”

“ I know that I’m not going to let it be a walklo A Desperate Game

over for Skates, anyhow,” said Michael, promptly. “ To-morrow I just pack up my traps for England, Home, and Skates ! ”

And he clenched his teeth and shook his fist on the last word.

The less energetic and more thoughtful Gaspard was not long in making up his mind to follow his brother’s example. After a discussion with the other young fellows who were their partners in the ranch, an arrangement was come to by which, by a concession on their side, they left it open for themselves to return or to make over their share in the property to their partners, who were to look after their interests while they were away.

And within three weeks from the receipt of the letter from the Vicar’s wife the two young men had sailed on their way from New York to Liverpool.

They had thought it best to send no word of their intention to return ; and it was not until they arrived in London that they wrote to inform their aunt they were c. ‘^g to see her, and that Michael wrote a little note to Mrs. Chalmers to thank her for her letter.

They had some shopping to do in town before they could make their appearance at St. Mary’son-Sea. Gaspard’s beard had to give place to the simplicity of a well-trimmed mustache, and his locks had to be shorn to a civilized length. Michael, however, annoyed and amazed his .brother by leaving his lank black hair too long, and by shaving off his mustache altogether.

And he not only refused to give any explanation of this freak of taste, but he insisted upon going to order his clothes by himself, instead of allowing Gaspard, whose taste was much better than his own, to help him in his choice.

And this was not the last of his eccentricities. When they were well on their way to St. Mary’s, very snugly ensconced in the opposite corners of a first-class smoking compartment, Michael put down his paper, and, squaring his elbows on his knees, leant forward, and said :

Look here, I want to tell you something. When we get near St. Mary’s, you’re just to go on, whatever happens. Don’t mind me.”

“ What do you mean ? ” asked Gaspard. I can’t quite make you out lately. What is gained by making a mystery to me of the things you’re going to do ? ”

But Michael was obstinate. His black eyes twinkled, and he answered coolly : ‘‘ I mean to set about things my own way. If I were to tell you everything, you’d spend an hour arguing, and you’d very likely end by giving the show away. You see you’re easily talked over ; I’m not.”

So Gaspard sat back, feeling rather sorry he had ever left California, and wearing a face so dismal that presently his brother burst out laughing.

“ Don’t look as if you were going to a funeral, man ! ” cried he, as he slapped the gloomy Gaspard sharply on the knee. ‘‘ We’ll rout the enemy never fear ! ”

Gaspard, however, continued to look serious.

I’m beginning to think we’ve come over on a wild-goose chase,” said he. After all, what business have we over here at all? Aunt can’t be prevented by us from leaving her money to whom she likes, and it’s not a very dignified thing for us to do to try to influence her. Besides, we don’t even know that it may not be all a mistake. We’ve only that letter to go upon ; and Mrs. Chalmers herself confesses that she’s called a meddling old busybody ! ”

Michael’s mouth looked square as he answered :

“ Well, we’re in for it now, you know. And it’s all nonsense about Aunt’s being at liberty to leave her money to whom she likes. You know she’s bound in honor to leave it to us, and that she gave her word to our father that she would. If it hadn’t been for him she would have lost every shilling of it. You know that story.”

“ But this Skates may be a perfectly honest man, and a good friend ! ”

I mistrust the good friends of rich old ladies ! ” retorted Michael.

‘‘ And how about our reason for coming over ? How shall we explain that? It looks very suspicious that you’ve had no answer to your ktter telling Aunt we were coming down.”

She’s not fond of letter-writing,’’ said Michael.

“ Supposing we should find we’re not admitted ! ” suggested Gaspard.

“Then, by Jove, that will prove we were right to come ! ” retorted the younger brother.

Now, although this was perfectly true, yet it did not suggest a very lively prospect of affairs in case Miss Farebrother should really have been ‘‘got hold of by the fascinating strangers. They could not force their way into their aunt's house against her will, and, although they were not penniless, they would certainly be put in a very awkward position if they should be thus thrown upon their own resources, after abandoning their ranch to come back.

A certain uneasiness began to take possession even of the buoyant Michael, and after softly whistling to himself to show that he was perfectly light of heart — which he was not — he relapsed into silence.

When the train stopped at Cliffgate, which was the station before St. Mary's-on-Sea, Michael said he would get out and have a drink. Gaspard urged him not to do this, saying that, now he was so near his journey’s end, he might well wait a few minutes. With his usual obstinacy, the younger brother persisted in his intention, and the end of it was that the train went on without him.

Gaspard was a good deal annoyed by this incident, until it came into his head to wonder whether this freak on his brother’s part had been part of a set plan, to which he meant to refer when he said Gaspard was to go straight on, whatever happened.

Not all pleased with Michael’s behavior, Gaspard was by no means in a good humor when the train drew into the little station at St. Mary’s-on- Sea, and he threw his rugs and his brother’s to a porter with a scowl on his handsome face.

He thought he would leave his luggage at the

H A Desperate Game

station and walk on to the Abbey, as he did not care to face alone the risk of being turned away from his aunt’s gates with a local flyman to witness his humiliation. As he walked along the platform to point out his portmanteau and his brother’s to the porter, he noticed a man standing evidently waiting for some one, and was so much struck by his appearance that he turned back to look at him again.

The man’s dress suggested that he might be a minister of religion, though it was not easy to say to what denomination he belonged. He was a fine looking man of some fifty to fifty-five years of age, tall, of stalwart build, and rather stout. His blue eyes were mild and kindly, and his whole face,'"which was fresh-colored and fair of complexion, beamed with kindliness and shrewd good-humor. Hair, which was growing gray, and was worn rather long, and a well-trimmed beard, rather whiter than the hair of his head, added to the venerable dignity of a most imposing and prepossessing figure.

Gaspard wondered who he was.

When he had given his things in the charge of the station authorities, the young man left the little building, and uttered an exclamation of astonishment on seeing his aunt’s little pony-carriage, with her pair of pretty ponies, waiting outside.

The groom, who was standing at their heads, recognizing Gaspard, touched ’ his hat, and told him the chaise had come to meet him and his brother.

, A sense of comfort and satisfaction rushed into

A Desperate Game G

the young man’s heart, and at the same moment a lady, who was the sole occupant of the little carriage, smiled and bowed to him, inviting him to approach.

With a sudden inkling of the truth, Gaspard raised his hat and went up to her.

“ I must introduce myself, Mr. Farebrother,” said she,' speaking in a soft and gentle voice which was full of charm. ‘‘You are Gaspard, I’m sure. Your aunt was not well enough to come to meet you, so she asked the Doctor and me to come instead. I don’t suppose you know who I am ; but we are great friends of Miss Farebrother’s. Our name is Skates ; Doctor and Mrs. Skates.”

Chapter II

Gaspard replied in a suitable manner to these kindly words, returned the warm pressure of the lady’s hand, and wished fervently that Michael were beside him.

He was bewildered ; thrown off his balance. What had they been doing, pair of young fools that they were, to leave their ranch and their healthy and not unhappy life, just to find that they had been misled by an idle rumor into believing that their prospects were in danger.

Nothing, surely, could be less like the mien and manners of an adventuress than the gracious way in which Mrs. Skates asked what had become of his brother, insisted on his getting into the carriage beside her, and despatched the groom into the station to tell the Doctor that Mr. Farebrother had come.

Gaspard took a fancy to the lady at once. She was apparently somewhere between forty-five and fifty years of age, but her face could still be called handsome, and the gentle, Madonna-like expression of her hazel eyes accorded harmoniously with her soft voice and gentle manners. She was dressed in a very handsome mantle of the regulation dolman kind, so dear to elderly ladies, wore a gray satin bonnet, almost Quaker-like in color and shape, under which her wavy brown hair, plentifully sprinkled with gray, hung in an old-fashioned way, forming a frame to the gentle face.

She seemed much disappointed that she had only one nephew to bring home to Miss Farebrother, instead of the two she had expected.

And see how we have been preparing for you ! said she, pointing to a row of paper bags on the seat in front. ‘‘ I have been all round the place shopping in order to get something nice to tempt your appetites after your journey. Miss Farebrother laughed at me, but 1 told her now I had no boys of my own it amused me to look after other people’s.’'

“ You’re very good,” said Gaspard, much comforted by this reception, which seemed to show that he would be well received by his aunt also.

At that moment Doctor Skates hurried out of the station, with both hands outstretched.

“ Hallo, why, how’s this, only one of you, eh ? What’s become of number two ? ”

The Doctor’s warmth was so exuberant that, for the first time, Gaspard found shooting through his mind a suspicion that this welcome to himself was overdone. He was ashamed of himself the next moment. He was ashamed also to find, when he was being driven towards the Abbey by Mrs. Skates, while the Doctor insisted on going on foot, that he did not like the face of the lady beside him quite so well when it was in repose as he had done while he was under the momentary spell of her voice and of her smile.

He tried to dispel his uneasiness by asking Mrs. Skates questions about his aunt. And her charm became immediately as strong as ever.

“ I wish I could say Miss Farebrother was as well as we should like to see her ! ” she answered, shaking her head rather gravely. Tm afraid she’s been worrying herself a little lately ; she caught a nasty cold in the winter, and was a long time shaking it off, and then she had a touch of influenza, or something of that sort.”

‘‘ Did she ? She never said anything about it in her letters,” said Gaspard.

‘‘ No. She’s a dear, brave lady, who neve will own to being ill. I think she mopes a little, all by herself in that great house, with nobody but servants about her. Anyhow, she seems to have grown much more cheerful since she’s not been quite alone.”

“ You and Dr. Skates are staying with her, I understand ? ” said Gaspard.

As he looked at the lady, but certainly with no intention of spying upon her looks or gestures, Gaspard had a fancy that he saw a slight quivering of the muscles of her face when he came to the last word.

Yes,'" she answered, after perhaps a couple of seconds' pause. ‘‘ How did you hear of it ^ "

Gaspard, still rather ashamed of his suspicions, yet was prudent enough not to betray too much.

Oh, you know we've been in London some days," he answered, evading a direct answer.

“ I confess I was rather reluctant to accept your aunt’s invitation at first," said Mrs. Skates, with a gentle little sigh. “To tell you the truth, I do love my freedom ; that's true American, isn't it ? And no matter how hospitably you may be received, there is always a certain inevitable feeling of constraint on one when one is staying in the house of a friend, no matter how intimate. Don't you think so ? "

“No doubt there is," assented Gaspard.

“ So, on the whole. I'm glad, not only for your aunt's sake and yours, but for my own also, that you and your brother have come back, and that we can now, without unkindness, leave the Abbey."

Gaspard felt reassured and remorseful. Since she had made up her mind to leave the Abbey at once, it seemed pretty clear that she must be free from any sinister intentions.

“ Perhaps she won't let you go," suggested Gaspard. “ She might think my brother and me a very bad exchange for you. She was not always best pleased with our pranks in the old days, when we were back from Eton, and then from Oxford.”

Mrs. Skates laughed with amusement.

I dare say she wasn’t ! ” said she. But you’ve grown older and staider now. I’ve no doubt. Anyhow, now you’ve come, we’ve got our excuse' for going. She can’t say she’s lonely any longer ! ”

They were by this time in the Abbey Lane, in which unpretending thoroughfare Miss Farebrother’s house was situated.

The Abbey was a building which always excited surprise and curiosity in both visitors and passersby. Originally a most modest dwelling, erected on the site of some bygone and forgotten monastic pile of the Middle Ages, it had been added to and almost rebuilt by Miss Farebrother’s predecessor, until it was now a huge, rambling erection of red brick, of a fanciful style of architecture, with an oriel window here, a turret there ; an imposing baronial hall with a handsome timbered roof at one end of the building, and a nest of dingy little rooms at another.

The whole place wanted more space ; it was too massive for its position, close behind a high wall in a narrow lane : one felt that it ought to have been in a wide park, with lawns on every side, instead of being so placed that no passer-by could even get a good look at its fanciful proportions.

Gaspard felt strangely moved when he found himself under the glass roof that led from the outer gate in the wall to the Gothic porch, squeezed into an angle, under which was the front door of his aunt’s house.

The manservant who opened the door was a stranger to him, but Gaspard noticed that he was very obsequious — there was no other word for it — to Mrs. Skates, who put her hand into the arm of the returning nephew, and asked where Miss Farebrother was.

“In the drawing-room, madam,” replied the man. And he waited for them to follow him along the short passage on the left which led to the long, light room, leading into the garden, which Gaspard so well remembered.

The door was opened. There came the old, overpowering rush of warm, scented air, which the young man remembered so well as a characteristic sign of his aunt’s whereabouts. The next moment he had instinctively disengaged himself from Mrs. Skates, and was crossing the long room rapidly towards the little old lady who was sitting by the fire, with her pet dog in her lap.

The little Pomeranian leaped down, and barked at the newcomer.

Miss Farebrother looked up without a smile.

Gaspard was chilled in an instant.

Some subtle change had come over the tiny, faded lady whom he and his brother had once looked upon as a second mother. Instead of the tender, anxious eyes which had looked at him when, on the eve of the momentous journey which had been ordered for his health, she had gloated solicitously over his then thin features, he now met a cold stare of something which was not unlike suspicion.

Instead of the clinging hands which had instinctively sought to detain him on that occasion, it was a dry, cold touch of the fingers that Miss Farebrother now extended to her nephew, as he stooped to kiss her forehead.

“ How do you do, Gaspard ? '' she said. Shut the door, John, if nobody else is coming in.”

Doesn't the dear boy look well ? ” said Mrs. Skates, in the soft voice which Gaspard suddenly felt that he hated. “You have told me that he used to be pale and thin.”

“ Yes, he doesn't look as if he'd been pining away, certainly,” said Miss Farebrother, who was already patting her black satin lap as a sign to her dog to get back into his old place. “ I thought your brother was coming, too ? ”

She was looking at the fire.

“He got left behind at Cliffgate, Aunt. I expect he'll be here by the next train.”

“ Oh, well, it doesn't matter. I dare say he can take care of himself,” said Miss Farebrother, indifferently. “ Where's the Doctor, Blanche ? ”

“ Oh, he walked.”

“ Dear me ! It's a new thing for the young men to drive while their elders walk, isn't it? However, I suppose it's all right. A sign of the times, that's all.”

Mrs. Skates laughed sweetly.

“ Oh, it wasn't your dear nephew's fault. You know the Doctor's rough, obstinate ways. He marched off by himself with a cheery wave of the hand before we could so much as open our mouths, didn’t he, Gaspard ? ”

And she turned to the young man with a sort of look of sweet apology for using his Christian name.

“ Oh, yes,” said the young man, who felt that he was choking. “ I should have been very glad to walk, too. In fact, I think the sooner I walk out of the house the better,” he added, with a sudden sullen note of indignation.