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<h4>CHAPTER XVI</h4> <h5>A NEW WITNESS</h5> The Squire was relieved when he turned Carrington out of his house, as he felt how impossible it was to live under the same roof with such a scoundrel. He was still more relieved on hearing that the man had gone to London by an early train, and hoped that prudence would keep him at a safe distance from Barship. As yet he knew nothing of his late friend's interview with Mallien, nor did Mallien appear at The Big House to report the conversation. But Hendle had an uneasy feeling that the barrister would not hold his tongue, unless well paid to do so; and undoubtedly he knew many things, the revelation of which would prove highly unpleasant. If Carrington went to Inspector Lawson with his story, Mallien might be arrested and the disgrace would break Dorinda's heart. Therefore, for the girl's sake, it was necessary to make some move, but what action could be taken Rupert did not very clearly see. He passed an uncomfortable morning turning things over in his mind, and rather regretted the impetuosity which had led him to deal so sharply with a dangerous man. However, he consoled himself with the proverb that what was done could not be undone. Of one thing Hendle was sure, that Carrington would only tell the police what he knew, when all chance of getting money to hold his tongue was at an end. He would certainly wait until Mallien was placed in possession of the property before taking any steps, and this being the case, Rupert felt convinced that no sudden scandal would disturb the present position of affairs. The man who gains time gains everything, and Rupert, mindful of the saying, determined to make the best use of his time. He was in no hurry, and began to think of what could be done to adjust matters. At first--as he had told Carrington--he intended to see the family solicitors about the will; but, on second thoughts, he decided to interview Mallien beforehand. The moment that John Hendle's will was placed in other hands to be dealt with, a certain amount of publicity would assuredly ensue. In that case, Mallien might find himself in an awkward position, although Rupert could not bring himself to believe that his cousin was guilty of so brutal a murder. Nevertheless, the circumstantial evidence was undeniably strong. On the whole the Squire decided that it would be wise to interview Mallien before handing the document to the lawyers, and, unless the man could exonerate himself fully, it seemed dangerous to hand it over at all. There would be little sense in Mallien gaining a fortune, if the necessary steps to place him in possession of it could only be taken at the risk of liberty and perhaps of life. The position was extremely difficult, unpleasant and puzzling, and Hendle scarcely knew what was best to be done. Finally he concluded to give the matter careful consideration for twenty-four hours before acting. So far, Hendle's intentions were sensible, considering the awkward position in which he was placed. But he was no diplomatist, and, having stirred up Carrington to hostility, proceeded indiscreetly to deal in a somewhat abrupt manner with Mrs. Beatson. Having got rid of one shady person he wished to get rid of the other. Already he had stated that he would send her away, but Mrs. Beatson had never believed that he would act immediately on his determination. She was, therefore, greatly dismayed when he summoned her into the library after luncheon, and intimated that she was to go. "Why should I go?" demanded the woman with the air of a martyr. "My duties----?" "I say nothing about your duties. But I can't have a person under my roof who listens to conversations not meant for her ears." "Then you shouldn't have secrets!" cried Mrs. Beatson furiously. "And I didn't listen intentionally. You know that." "You shouldn't have listened at all," said Rupert coldly, and bracing himself to meet trouble, which she had every intention of making. "What, not to protect myself when you thought of turning me out?" "There was no protection needed on that score," said the Squire politely. "I had no intention of turning you out." "Then why am I turned out now?" demanded the housekeeper in a most exasperatingly illogical way. "Because of your behavior, and I don't think that there is any need to explain further. To-day is Saturday; you must leave on Monday." "Oh, very well, sir. With a year's wages, mind." "Oh, no. I shall give you three months' wages, and you may consider yourself lucky that I give you any at all." "I shall go to law." Rupert shook his head reprovingly. "I shouldn't if I were you. Your dealings with that will won't bear looking into." "I have done nothing wrong," said Mrs. Beatson, becoming tearful. "Ah! your ideas of morality differ from mine. I am not going to argue the point," said Rupert, pointing to the door. "You can go now." "I shall tell all I know about the will," threatened the woman desperately. "As you please. But in two days the will goes to my lawyers, and if Mr. Mallien inherits, he will become the owner of this place. You have no hold over me there, Mrs. Beatson." "I believe you murdered Mr. Leigh yourself." "The wish is father to the thought," replied Hendle dryly. "Well then, if you didn't, that horrid Mr. Carrington did." "Why do you say that?" "Why did you turn him out of the place yesterday?" retorted the housekeeper. "For a very good and sufficient reason, which doesn't concern you." Baffled by her master's calmness, the woman walked defiantly toward the door, anxious to hurt him, yet unable to do so. "When Mr. Mallien gets the money he will never allow you to marry his daughter," she said spitefully. Rupert raised his eyebrows, but made no reply. He was unwilling to take her by the shoulders and thrust her out of the room, so all he could do was to remain silent until her venom exhausted itself. As is usually the case when a man deals with a woman, the weakness of Mrs. Beatson was her strength. "You will be a pauper without a penny," railed the housekeeper. Rupert still said nothing, but turned toward the fireplace to pick up his pipe. Mrs. Beatson, finding that he supplied no fuel for her anger, had no more to say, and retired fuming with temper. Her master lighted his pipe and sat down to consider once more how he could best deal with the situation. He was faintly nervous, as it occurred to him that perhaps it would have been better to deal less boldly with the housekeeper and the barrister. But on second thoughts he decided that he was acting straightforwardly, and that it had been just as well to take the bull by the horns. Mrs. Beatson went to her room, put on her best clothes and sallied forth bent upon the Samson-like intention of pulling the roof down on her own head. She was in such a rage that she did not mind being hurt personally so long as Rupert suffered. Doubtless when her doings recoiled on herself she would be sorry that she had acted like a fool; but at the present moment she did not consider the consequence. All she wanted was to hurt some one and to make things unpleasant all round. Rupert she hated for discharging her. Carrington she loathed because he had brought--as she considered--her shady doings to light, and Dorinda, because she was engaged to Hendle. She even hated Mallien, although he had never harmed her, but did not contemplate hurting him, since she hoped to receive the annuity. How she intended to make things uncomfortable she did not very well know, but she commenced operations by walking toward her son's lodgings in the village. She would tell him everything, and leave him to deal with her insulted honor. That Kit might agree with the Squire in reprobating her eavesdropping never struck her for a single moment. She was in much too great a rage to be reasonable. Kit was not at home, and his landlady said that he had gone to luncheon at Dr. Tollart's. Mrs. Beatson snorted when she heard this, as she did not wish Kit to marry the girl, and objected to his keeping company with her. Still bent upon relieving her mind of its burden, she made for the doctor's house, which was at the far end of the village, and speedily arrived at the front door. The servants informed her that Dr. Tollart was absent on his rounds, but would be back soon. Meanwhile, Miss Tollart was within along with Mr. Christopher Beatson. The servant, having a feminine sympathy with the lovers, did not ask this marplot to step in; but Mrs. Beatson brushed her aside like a fly and stalked into the drawing-room, where she heard gay voices. "I went to your lodgings and learned that you were here, Kit," said Mrs. Beatson, grimly, "philandering as usual, instead of earning your livelihood." The young couple rose in dismay at the sight of this uncomfortable woman, who was always like a stormy petrel. Sophy was the first to recover herself, and immediately took up arms on behalf of Kit. "It's Saturday," she said coolly, "and if Kit works all the week, he has a right to one holiday, I suppose, during the seven days." Mrs. Beatson sat down and glared. "How do you expect me to welcome you as a daughter-in-law when you behave toward me in this impertinent manner?" "I don't mean to be impertinent," said Sophy, sorry for the agonized expression on her lover's face; "but you are so unreasonable." "Unreasonable!" shrieked the visitor. "It is other people who are unreasonable, if you only knew all." "Knew all what?" asked Kit nervously. "I've been insulted and discharged. Me, a lady born and bred and----" "Discharged!" echoed Sophy, interrupting. "Do you mean to say that you have left The Big House?" "I leave on Monday," said Mrs. Beatson, getting out her handkerchief and beginning to sob. "Oh, the insults that I have received! Mr. Hendle must be thrashed, and I have come to ask my son to thrash him." "Me!" Kit bounced out of his seat in dismay. "Why, Mr. Hendle is my best friend, and I owe everything to him." "That's right. Go against your mother," wailed Mrs. Beatson. "You are just like your father, who was always a coward and a bully." "Kit is neither," said Sophy indignantly. "Little as I think of men who won't give us the vote, I think a great deal of Kit." "Bother your votes!" cried Mrs. Beatson, suddenly recovering her composure, as it was evident that tears did not help her. "All your goings-on are silly." "Silly! Well, I like that, when we are trying to vindicate the cause of----" "Oh, Sophy, don't make a row!" interrupted Kit, who saw how the two glared at one another. "Let us hear what mother has to say." "I have a great deal to say," said Mrs. Beatson savagely, "and if you young people will only hold your tongues, as young people should in the presence of older and wiser----" "Older certainly, but not wiser," pertly said Miss Tollart. "For my sake, Sophy," implored Kit, seeing that his mother was stiffening for a royal row. "I want to hear why Mr. Hendle has discharged----" The word was enough to recall Mrs. Beatson to a memory of her wrongs and she proceeded volubly to discourse about the same. Yet even as she began it occurred to her that it would be as well to bind the young couple to secrecy for the present, as Hendle's hint about the law lingered uncomfortably in her mind. After all, a judge and jury might be silly enough to condemn her behavior. "What I have to tell you both, you must keep to yourselves," she said solemnly, and looked to see if the door was closed. "It's a matter of life and death." Kit looked scared at this exordium, and even Sophy, bold as she was, began to feel nervous. She knew what a reckless person her future mother-in-law was, and wondered what she had been doing to justify so grave a request. "Neither Kit nor I will say anything," she promised, catching at her lover's hand for comfort. "I hope it's nothing very serious." "It isn't," said Mrs. Beatson, ironically, "unless you consider the death of Mr. Leigh serious." "What?" Kit jumped up with his face as white as chalk. "Don't," said his mother irritably, "you get on my nerves, and they're bad enough as it is." She paused, then continued, rather pleased with the sensation she was making. "I know a great deal about the murder." "Oh!" Miss Tollart's eyes grew large and round, and became filled with curiosity. "Have you any idea as to who murdered Mr. Leigh?" "I have. But what I am about to tell you, keep to yourselves." "We have promised that," snapped Sophy, for all this mysterious talk was irritating her greatly. "What is it you know?" "I must begin at the beginning," said Mrs. Beatson solemnly, and taking every advantage of the situation; "and when my son knows all, I shall expect my son to defend my honor." "Against Mr. Hendle?" asked Kit nervously. "He has behaved like a brute!" cried Mrs. Beatson, flaming up. "But bad as he is, he is not so bad as that nasty Mr. Carrington." "The lawyer," said Sophy, curiously. "What has he to do with it." "If you will only let me speak, I shall explain," said Mrs. Beatson, in a dignified manner. "Go on, mother," said her son impatiently. "Don't keep us on tenterhooks." Mrs. Beatson frowned severely, but, not seeing her way to an answer, began to relate her grievance. It was characteristic of her profound belief in her own rectitude that she told everything, plainly and baldly, never thinking that her listeners would condemn what she had done. From the moment when the Squire had informed her of his intention to marry Miss Mallien forthwith, down to the interview which had just taken place, the housekeeper detailed all that had happened, concealing nothing, but exaggerating a great deal. Naturally she made herself out to be a martyr, and was greatly annoyed when she brought her story to an end, to see disgust written on Sophy's face and dismay on the face of her son. "What do you both mean by glaring at me in that way?" she demanded, after waiting for comments, which were not made as speedily as she expected. "I don't think that you have behaved at all well," said Sophy bluntly, seeing that Kit was speechless. "What do you mean by that?" demanded Mrs. Beatson bristling. "Impertinence." "Mother," struck in the young man quietly, and recovering his speech, "if this matter is to be discussed we may as well discuss it reasonably." "I ask for nothing better. Haven't I been disgracefully treated?" "No," said Kit, pulling himself together and becoming both manly and heroic; "you had no business to listen to Mr. Hendle and Mr. Leigh; you had no business to tell Mr. Mallien what you overheard; and you had no business to meddle with that will." "Hear! Hear!" said Sophy, clapping her hands. "I agree with Kit. And, as you have behaved so badly to Mr. Hendle, I don't see what he could do but send you away." After a speechless pause Mrs. Beatson appealed to her son. "Kit, will you sit there and hear me insulted?" "Sophy doesn't mean to insult you, mother," said Kit quietly, and looking as white as he was determined. "You must be reasonable." "I am reasonable!" cried his mother violently. "There never was such an unreasonable person as you are. My own son turns against me," wailed the exasperating woman, again taking out her handkerchief to sob--"my own son, and I nursed him as a baby." Kit and Sophy looked at each other helplessly, wholly undecided how to deal with this impossible woman. Mrs. Beatson only saw things in her own way and expected everyone else to see them as she concluded they should be seen. She had no common sense; she had no logic, she had no control over her temper, and when anyone disagreed with her, she made herself objectionable in every way. Miss Tollart, face to face with this unreasonable feminine nature, heaved a sigh. "Well, I don't wonder that we don't get the vote," she mourned. "We aren't in the least ready for it." "Hush, Sophy!" said Kit, touching her hand. "We must understand more about the matter. It can't be allowed to rest here." "You promised to hold your tongue!" shrieked Mrs. Beatson, rather scared by the look on her son's face. "I shall do so, so far as is consistent with my honor," retorted Kit bluntly; "and I'm not going to allow Mr. Hendle to get into trouble. He has been a good friend to you, mother, and a good friend to me. If you had a spark of gratitude toward him, you would never have behaved as you have done." "How dare you speak to me in that way?" "Because the time is past when you could play the tyrant." "Tyrant! Tyrant! This to your mother, who bore you." "I don't wish to be disrespectful, mother, but you are so unreasonable that you compel me to be so. It is all very well so far as things are between ourselves; but in this story which you have told serious matters are concerned. Your share in them is not honorable." "I can do what I like," said Mrs. Beatson in a more subdued tone, for the attitude taken up by her son impressed her unpleasantly. He was no longer a boy to be bullied, but a man to be conciliated. "No, you can't do what you like when your doings bring you into trouble with the law," insisted Kit, and Sophy nodded her approbation, which was odd considering how she dared authority as a suffragist. But in her own way she was as unreasonable as Mrs. Beatson, although she would never have admitted as much, and would have been indignant at the mere suggestion. "I won't get into trouble with the law," said Mrs. Beatson rather nervously. "That all depends upon what steps the police take." "The police know nothing," said the housekeeper hastily. "But the police will know, mother. I don't think so honorable a gentleman as Mr. Hendle will allow things to remain as they are. He is innocent----" "Is he? He had every reason to kill Mr. Leigh because of the will, which is likely to leave him a pauper." "I say he is innocent!" shouted Kit, stamping, and the expression on his face was such as to reduce his mother to frightened silence. "Nothing will ever make me believe that Mr. Hendle would act in such a wicked way." "Then it's Mr. Mallien," whimpered Mrs. Beatson. "No," said Sophy quickly, "Mr. Mallien knows well enough that Mr. Hendle will act honorably about the will. He would not risk his neck to get a document which he knew Mr. Hendle would not dispute if it is legal." "Well," said the housekeeper, still bent upon accusing someone, "I shouldn't be surprised if that nasty Mr. Carrington is guilty. Mr. Hendle went up the very next day after the conversation with Mr. Leigh to consult him. Mr. Carrington might have killed Mr. Leigh to get the will, so that he could make Mr. Hendle give him money for it." "I quite believe that Mr. Carrington did try to get money," said Kit, after a pause, "as he had a quarrel with Mr. Hendle yesterday." "How do you know that?" "Someone told Mrs. Pansey that angry words passed between Mr. Hendle and Mr. Carrington at the gate of the Park. And Mr. Carrington slept last night at the inn before going to London this morning." "They did have a quarrel," admitted the housekeeper, "at least, I suppose so, as Mr. Carrington did not stay at The Big House last night. But we don't know if the quarrel was over money as the price of the will. Mr. Carrington was in Town on the night Mr. Leigh was murdered, so he can have nothing to do with it." Sophy jumped up and clapped hands. "He was not in Town on that night," she cried, with her eyes blazing with excitement. "Father came down by the eight o'clock train on that night and Mr. Carrington came also. Father saw him on the Liverpool Street station and afterward on the Barship platform." Kit turned on the girl sharply. "Sophy, are you certain?" "Yes, I am. You can ask father yourself." "But Dr. Tollart doesn't know Mr. Carrington," remarked Mrs. Beatson anxiously. "Yes, he does. When Mr. Carrington came down here first he called to see father about an aching tooth. He came to this very house. Father did not take much notice of Mr. Carrington on that night, as he thought he was just coming down to see Mr. Hendle. He never connected Mr. Carrington with the murder. But now, now,"--Sophy clapped her hands again, so excited did she feel--"from what you say, Mrs. Beatson, I shouldn't be at all surprised to hear that Mr. Carrington was guilty." "We can't be certain of that," said Kit quickly. "I am certain," said Mrs. Beatson, rising, "and I'll tell Inspector Lawson what you have told me, just to pay that Carrington out for his poking and prying." "I shouldn't if I were you, mother," remarked Kit dryly. "If you can make things hot for Mr. Carrington, he can make things disagreeable for you. Better let Mr. Hendle know first, and allow him to attend to the matter. After all, mother," said Kit, with a shrug, "we are assuming a great deal. Mr. Carrington may be quite innocent, and his quarrel with Mr. Hendle may have nothing to do with the will." "I believe he is guilty," said Mrs. Beatson viciously, and said it because she wished to think so. "So do I," put in Sophy, earnestly. "Still, Mrs. Beatson, I wouldn't go to see Inspector Lawson if I were you. You might be arrested as an accessory after the fact, you know." "Me!" Mrs. Beatson grew white and tottered. "I have nothing to do with--oh, Kit, Kit, do you think--do you think----" "I think you are quite safe, so long as you hold your tongue and allow Mr. Hendle to look into things." "Oh, I shall not say a word!" groaned Mrs. Beatson, now thoroughly frightened for her own skin, "and you and Sophy will keep silent for my sake." "I shall tell Mr. Hendle," said Kit, firmly. "I must." "And I shall tell Dorinda," chimed in Miss Tollart. "She is engaged to Mr. Hendle, and they can talk it over together. Union is strength, as I know from our votes for women troubles, and if Mr. Carrington intends to accuse Mr. Mallien, or Mr. Hendle, he will find himself in the wrong box. They can call father as a witness if the case comes into court." "A new witness," declared Kit eagerly, "and one who will put the saddle on the right horse. The mere presence of Mr. Carrington in Barship on that night shows that he has something to do with the matter." "We can't be sure," murmured Mrs. Beatson weakly, for by this time she was becoming dreadfully nervous about her share in the proceedings. "We'll soon make sure when Mr. Hendle questions Mr. Carrington as to his doings in Barship on that night," said Kit decidedly. "Now go, mother, and hold your tongue. It's dangerous to speak." "I'll hold my tongue," promised Mrs. Beatson, and tottered away weakly. <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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