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 ff-
 
 
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 OF THL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 T)756t
 
 TEMPEST - DRIVEN.
 
 TEMPEST- DRIVEN. 
 
 Jl Jiomsnre. 
 
 RICHARD DOWLING, 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE MYSTERY OF KILLABD," "THE WEIRD SISTEES," 
 
 THE SPORT OF FATE," " ODEB ST. PAUL'S," "tHS DUKE'S SWEETHEART, 
 
 "SWEET IXISFAIL," "the HIDDEN FLAME," ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 YOL. T. 
 
 LONDON : 
 TINSLEY BROTHERS, 8, CATHERINE ST., STRAND, 
 
 1886. 
 [All rights reserved.']
 
 CHARLES THCKBNS AND EVANS, 
 CRYSTAL PALACE PRESS.
 
 f<33 
 
 £>7S£J~ 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 I'AGB 
 
 IX THE DEAD OF NIGHT ..... 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 FOUL PLAY ? 18 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 HINTS OF EARLY HISTORY 30 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " SEEKING HELP 40 
 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 vk PRINGLE UNANSWERED 58
 
 vi CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 HER SUDDEN RESOLVE . . . . . .71 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 LIGHT AFTER DARKNESS 86 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 mr. Davenport's account of ttte matter . .102 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 "which of us is mad?" 113 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE ELDER PRINGLE SPEAKS . . . . .134 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " MRS. DAVENPORT WAS CALLED " . . . . 148 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 ANOTHER WITNESS .168 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 BLAKE'S EVIDENCE 181
 
 CONTENTS. vii 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 PA.&B 
 
 ALFRED PAULTON'S WALK 200 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 "l ^HALL 13E READY FOB MY DEATH WHEN THEY 
 
 ARE READY FOR IT ! " 214 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE VERDICT . . . . . . .222 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 JERRY o'bBIEK's PROPHECY 233
 
 TEMPEST-TOSSED 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT. 
 
 It was pitch dark, and long past mid- 
 night. The last train from the City had 
 just steamed out of Heme Hill railway 
 station. The air was clear and crisp. 
 Under foot the ground was dry and 
 firm with February frost. All the shops 
 in the neighbourhood had long since 
 been shut. Few lights burned in the 
 fronts of private houses. The Dulwich 
 Eoad was deserted, and looked dreary 
 and forlorn under its tall, skeleton, 
 motionless, silent trees. There was not 
 a sound abroad save the gradually-dying 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
 k>
 
 2 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 rumble of the train, and the footfalls 
 and voices of the few people who had 
 alighted from it. Little by little these 
 sounds died away, and the stillness was as 
 great as in the pulseless heart of a calm 
 at sea. 
 
 Alfred Paulton had arrived by the 
 last train. He was twenty- eight years 
 of age, of middle height, and fair com- 
 plexion. He lived in Half Moon Lane, 
 and after saying good-night to some 
 acquaintances who came out in the train 
 with him, turned under the railway via- 
 duct at Heme Hill, and walked in the 
 direction of his home. 
 
 He was in no hurry, for he knew 
 his father and mother and sisters had 
 gone to bed long ago. He had his 
 latch-key, and should let himself in. His 
 ulster covered him comfortably from neck 
 to heel. He had supped pleasantly with 
 a few friends at his club, the Eobin
 
 IN THE BEAD OF NIGHT. 3 
 
 Hood, and earlier in the day finished, a 
 very agreeable transaction with his solici- 
 tor, and now had in his pocket a hand- 
 some bundle of notes. 
 
 As he walked he swung his stick, and 
 hummed in a whisper a few bars from 
 the favourite air of a comic opera which 
 he had been to hear that evening. 
 
 Suddenly he started. As he was directly 
 opposite the door of a house, standing 
 back a few yards from the road, the door 
 opened noisily, and he heard a woman's 
 voice in a tone of piteous entreaty exclaim : 
 
 "Oh, what shall I do — what shall 
 I do?" 
 
 Alfred Paulton drew up and listened. 
 
 For a while all was silent. 
 
 He looked over the paling, which was 
 just as high as his chin. In the door- 
 way of the house stood the figure of a 
 woman against the light of a lamp on 
 a table in the hall. The leafless boughs 
 
 b 2
 
 4 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 of the intervening shrubs prevented his 
 getting an uninterrupted view, but he 
 could in a brief glance gather a good deal. 
 The figure was that of a woman neither 
 tall nor short, neither stout nor thin. 
 She was evidently not a servant. She 
 wore an ordinary indoor costume, and 
 had nothing on her head. Although she 
 had scarcely moved since the opening of 
 ^the door, he came to the conclusion she 
 -^was of alert and active habit. He judged 
 her to be neither old nor young. Her 
 hair shone raven-black in the lamplight. 
 'The illumined cheek was finely modelled, 
 dark in hue — that of a brunette. She 
 leaned forward into the darkness, and 
 peered right and left, moving her head 
 but slightly as she did so. Something 
 glittered in the starlight at her throat 
 and at her girdle. Her hands were held 
 behind her to balance the forward inclina- 
 tion of her body. On her fingers jewels
 
 IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT. 5 
 
 sparkled in the lamplight of the hall 
 behind her. 
 
 All this he saw at a glance. He was 
 perplexed, and did not know how to 
 act. It was scarcely fair in him to 
 stand there eaves-dropping, as it were. 
 If he moved now she would hear him, 
 and know he had seen her and had 
 stopped to listen. If he spoke he might 
 alarm her. 
 
 Up to the moment the door opened and 
 she appeared and called out, he believed 
 this house to be empty. It had been 
 vacant for a long time. Now he recol- 
 lected having heard that it was let 
 at last, and that the new tenant was ex- 
 pected to arrive this day. The place was 
 called Crescent House. He had heard talk 
 about the new-comers at the breakfast- 
 table that morning ; but nothing seemed 
 known of them except that they came 
 from a distance and were well off.
 
 6 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 The woman in the doorway now 
 straightened herself, raised both hands to 
 her forehead, and moaned out in a lower 
 and more despairing tone her former 
 words : 
 
 " Oh, what shall I do— what shall I do f " 
 
 He could hesitate no longer. It was 
 plain she was in a sore strait. He coughed, 
 advanced to the gate, and, putting his 
 hand on the latch, said : 
 
 " I beg your pardon. Is there anything 
 wrong ? " 
 
 She started back a pace into the hall. 
 In doing so her full face met the lamp- 
 light for a moment. It was a very 
 beautiful face, full of terror. 
 
 " Do not be alarmed," he said softly ; 
 -' I was passing when you opened the 
 door, and I heard you speak. Is there 
 anything wrong ? Anything I can do for 
 you?" 
 
 She seemed reassured, and stepped once
 
 IN THE DEAD OF NIGHT. 7 
 
 more to the threshold, and said, in a quick, 
 low voice : 
 
 "I am a stranger here. I came to this 
 house only to-day. I am alone with my 
 husband in the house, and he has been 
 seized by sudden illness. I do not know 
 where to find a doctor, even if I could 
 leave the house, and I cannot go away from 
 my husband.' 7 
 
 " In what way can I be of use ? Pray 
 command me." 
 
 He tried to open the gate, but failed. 
 
 She perceived his efforts to open the 
 gate, and once more withdrew a pace into 
 the hall, crying in alarm : 
 
 " No, no ; you must not come in ! If 
 you wish to help me, go for the nearest 
 doctor. Go at once. Do not stand there. 
 In heaven's name, do not lose a moment ! 
 Go, I implore you." 
 
 She clasped her hands, and held them 
 out towards him in entreaty.
 
 8 TJSMPJ3S T - TOSSED. 
 
 "As you wish," he said. "I shall not 
 be many minutes.' ' 
 
 He turned and ran back towards the 
 railway station. Dr. Santley, the family 
 physician of the Paultons, lived close by, 
 and Alfred Paulton resolved to summon 
 him, although he might not be exactly 
 the nearest medical man. Time would be 
 gained rather than lost by going for him, 
 as Santley would come at once without 
 waiting for explanations — that is, if he 
 were at home. 
 
 On his way he had little space to think, 
 the time being short and the pace quick. 
 He was more lucky than he had hoped, 
 for he almost ran over the man he sought 
 at the gate of his house. 
 
 " Oh, doctor," he cried, almost breathless, 
 " I am so glad to meet you up and dressed ! 
 I want you, if you will be good enough 
 to come with me at once." 
 
 "Mr. Paulton, I'm sorry. What is the
 
 IN TEE DEAD OF NIGET. 9 
 
 matter ? I have just come back from 
 another unexpected patient." 
 
 " It's no one at our place, thank good- 
 ness ! It's some one at Crescent House. 
 I don't even know the name." 
 
 By this time both men were walking 
 rapidly towards Half Moon Lane. 
 
 Dr. Santley was a tall, slender man, with 
 full black beard and moustaches. He had 
 a quiet, gentle, responsible manner, and 
 rarely smiled. As the two strode on 
 together, Alfred Paulton described the 
 scene in which he had just taken part. 
 When he had finished, his companion said : 
 
 " Ah, I saw the vans at the door to-day ; 
 but surely they cannot have got a big 
 house like that straight in so short a time. 
 Here we are." 
 
 They had arrived at the spot where a few 
 minutes before the younger man had stood 
 and spoken to the strange woman in the 
 doorway. The door was now not open.
 
 10 TEMPEST- TOSSED. - 
 
 Paulton rattled noisily at the gate, and 
 then waited a while. There was no answer. 
 He looked at the windows of the house; 
 none was lighted up. Light shone in the 
 fan-sash over the door. 
 
 " You cannot have mistaken the house in 
 the dark?" asked Dr. Santley, suppressing 
 a yawn. 
 
 " Impossible ! It was the only house to 
 be let. It is Crescent House, and you 
 yourself saw the furniture going in to-day." 
 
 Again he rattled the gate, this time as 
 loudly as he could. 
 
 At length the door of the house was 
 opened slowly, and against the light of 
 the lamp the same figure as Paulton had 
 seen before was revealed. Again the woman 
 stood still on the threshold and leaned out 
 into the darkness. This time she at once 
 turned her face towards the gate. 
 
 Before either of the men had time to speak, 
 she said in a calm, low, penetrating voice :
 
 IN TEE BEAD OF NIGET. 11 
 
 " Is the doctor there 2 " 
 
 "Yes," answered both in a breath. 
 
 " I will open the gate in a moment." 
 
 With a firm, swift step she left the door- 
 way and trod the gravelled path leading 
 to the gate. She did not hesitate or fumble 
 at the latch. In a few seconds the gate 
 swung open. 
 
 "This is Dr. Santley ; he is our family 
 physician. He and I live close by. May 
 I offer you my card? I and my family 
 will, I am sure, feel delighted to be of 
 any service to you," said Paulton, raising 
 his hat. 
 
 " Stay," she said. " Will you both come 
 in ? I am terrified. I do not know what 
 has happened. I hope you are not too late." 
 
 Her words were measured and her tone 
 
 calm. Although the trees overhead were 
 
 leafless, where she stood was dark, and 
 
 neither of the men could see her clearly. 
 
 Without further w T ords she led the way
 
 12 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 back to the house. The two men followed 
 in silence. When they entered the hall she 
 turned round in the full light of the lamp, 
 and, stretching out her right arm towards 
 the first door on the left, said : 
 
 "In that room. I shall wait for you. 
 There is no other light. Take this lamp." 
 
 Paulton now saw her fully. She was 
 dark, almost swarthy. There was no colour 
 in her cheek. Her forehead was small and 
 compact. Her eyebrows and hair jet, 
 glossy. Her eyes were dark, large, a little 
 sunken, brilliant, and full of suppressed 
 fire. The nose was slightly aquiline. The 
 only relief to the dark hue of the face and 
 the black of the eyebrows, hair, and eyes, 
 was afforded by the full, red, ripe lips. 
 And all the features, the forehead, the nose, 
 the chin, the mouth, the cheeks, were finely 
 modelled. The face was commanding, im- 
 perial, triumphant. It was as set and firm 
 as marble. It was the face of an empress
 
 JA r TEE DEAD OF NIGHT. 13 
 
 born to lead her legions to victory — of a 
 woman in whom courage was a matter of 
 course, who regarded obedience to her wish 
 as a spontaneous offering. She had the 
 immortality of indestructible will in her 
 face, the weight of irresistible determi- 
 nation. 
 
 With the face ended the heroic aspect 
 of the woman. 
 
 At her throat blazed the diamonds of a 
 brooch large as the palm of her hand. On 
 her fingers glittered a dozen diamond rings. 
 The belt round her waist was fastened with 
 a diamond clasp. The diamonds at her 
 throat held an orange-coloured silk scarf. 
 The rest of her dress was dead black, close- 
 fitting to the figure, and full of folds below 
 the waist. The arms were bare half-way 
 from the elbow to the wrist. The figure, 
 the arms, the hands were subduingly soft 
 and feminine. The arms and wrists were 
 round, the hands exquisitely delicate, with
 
 1 4 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 fine taper fingers, the bust a miracle of rich 
 symmetry. 
 
 It was the head of Boaclicea on the figure 
 of Eosamond. 
 
 Dr. Santley took up the lamp from the 
 hall table and entered the room she had 
 indicated. Paulton paused for a moment 
 in doubt as to whether he should go or 
 stay. The hall lay now in comparative 
 darkness; there was no light except what 
 came through the open door of the front 
 room. 
 
 " Follow him." 
 
 It was her voice. 
 
 Paulton obeyed. As he got inside the 
 doorposts he turned round and looked 
 back into the hall. He could make out 
 nothing but the glitter of the diamonds 
 at her throat, in her girdle, on her fingers. 
 They were stars against the darkness of 
 her dress, as the stars abroad in heaven 
 against the sightless robe of night.
 
 IN THE BEAD OF NIGHT. 15 
 
 The room in which Dr. Santley and 
 Paulton found themselves was in the 
 greatest disorder. In one corner lay the 
 carpet rolled up, in another the hearth- 
 rug, fender, fire-irons, and coal-scuttle. 
 All along the right side stood a row of 
 chairs, one inverted on another. Pictures 
 rested on the floor with their faces against 
 the wall ; the gaselier sprawled close by 
 the window; the leaves of the dining- 
 table were set against the folding-doors 
 at the back. The drawers and pillars of 
 the sideboard were hard by, the top and 
 back of it stretched upward into the 
 gloom of a deep recess ; several boxes 
 and canvas packages littered the floor. 
 Two knights in plate-armour reclined one 
 at each corner of the chimney-piece ; easy- 
 chairs were wedged in among amorphous 
 bundles wrapped in Indian matting; rods 
 and poles protruded from under legs of 
 chairs, under bales heaped upon one another.
 
 1 6 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 A small table, face down upon another, 
 held its slender legs up in air. Some 
 fire still smouldered in the grate ; the fire 
 must have been large not long ago, for 
 the room was still warm. 
 
 In the centre of the room stood the 
 dining-table, reduced to its smallest dimen- 
 sions. On this were spread the remains 
 of a simple supper. Close by the table 
 stood a couch, and on the couch appeared 
 the figure of a man. 
 
 The figure was sitting up in the arm 
 of the couch, the legs rested on the couch, 
 the head drooped forward ; the chin and 
 lower part of the face were buried in 
 the thick, long, grizzled beard that flowed 
 down over the chest. 
 
 Dr. Santley stepped up to the couch 
 on which the figure lay, and having 
 placed the lamp upon the table close at 
 hand, began his examination. It did not 
 take long. After a few minutes he turned
 
 IN TEE DEAD OF NIGET. 17 
 
 to Paultou, and, pointing to the figure, 
 shook his head. 
 
 "Well?" asked the young man below 
 his breath. 
 
 The doctor went up to him and whis- 
 pered in his ear : 
 
 " Dead some time." 
 
 Paulton looked round apprehensively at 
 the door, and whispered back : 
 
 "How will she take it?" 
 
 The doctor shook his head. 
 
 Both men stood staring at one another. 
 
 Suddenly both started ; they beard a 
 footfall behind them. Some one had 
 entered the room. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 FOUL PLAY ? 
 
 The two men turned quickly round. The 
 light of the . lamp fell on the black dress 
 of the woman and sparkled on her 
 diamonds. Her arms hung down by her 
 side. Both hands were clenched. She 
 advanced with a steady, slow step, her 
 eyes firmly fixed on Dr. Santley's face. 
 She did not glance at Paulton. She did 
 not glance at the couch. 
 
 "You were ]ong," she said, in a slow, 
 constrained voice, " and I came in to 
 know." 
 
 She rested the tips of the fingers of
 
 FOUL FLAY? 19 
 
 one hand on the table and kept her eyes 
 fixed on the doctor. 
 
 "I think," said Santley, placing himself 
 between her and the couch, " that it 
 would be better if we went into some 
 other room." 
 
 " We cannot ; this must serve. All the 
 other rooms are locked up, except my 
 bed room, and my husband has the keys." 
 
 Her voice did not falter. 
 
 " Has Mr. , your husband, been long 
 
 ill ? " 
 
 M My husband's name is Louis Davenport. 
 He has been ill a long time — years. 
 He has been suffering from spasmodic 
 asthma. I can gather from your manner 
 that there is no hope." 
 
 Her voice was firm and clear. No feature 
 moved but the beautiful, flexible mouth, of 
 which the lips were as full of colour as 
 ever. 
 
 " May I beg of you to be seated ? * Dr. 
 
 o 2
 
 20 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 Santley left the position he had occupied 
 and handed her a chair. She sank on it 
 without speaking. She rested one of her 
 arms on the table. He went on : " Mrs. 
 Davenport, I am afraid the worst must be 
 faced." 
 
 " The worst ! " she cried, rising and look- 
 ing wildly at him, her voice now coming 
 in a terrified whisper from between her 
 lips, which at the moment lost their colour. 
 " The worst ! What do you mean by the 
 worst ? What do you know of the 
 worst ? " 
 
 Her face showed intense eagerness, 
 mingled with intense fear. 
 
 "I am very sorry to be obliged to give 
 you bad news." 
 
 " And it is ? " with still greater eager- 
 ness and fear. 
 
 " That Mr. Davenport will not recover.' , 
 
 "That he is dead ? " leaning forward on 
 the back of her chair towards him.
 
 FOUL FLAY? 21 
 
 " Unhappily, yes." 
 
 " Of his old disease ? " 
 
 She still kept her eyes on Santley's 
 face. 
 
 " Perhaps. Did he complain to-night ? " 
 
 "Yes; he said he was too ill to think 
 of lying down." 
 
 " He used, no doubt, to inhale chloro- 
 form when the spasms were bad ? " 
 
 " Always." 
 
 " Yes, I got the smell of chloroform. 
 "Well, one of these spasms may have been 
 too severe ; and now you know the worst,. 
 Mrs. Davenport." 
 
 She sat down on her chair and seemed 
 about to faint. There was wine on the 
 table. Santley poured some into a glass 
 and made her drink it. After a w T hile 
 she became composed, and the look of 
 eagerness and dread disappeared wholly 
 from her face, and the red returned to 
 her lips.
 
 22 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 She was the first to speak. Her voice 
 had regained all its old, firm serenity. 
 Her face was calm and commanding. 
 She looked, once more as though neither 
 the onslaught of battle nor the wreck of 
 worlds could disturb her. 
 
 "You, sir," she said, once more address- 
 ing Santley, "I have to thank for your 
 promptness in coming at this hour to one 
 whom you never even heard of before. 
 And " — turning to Paulton — " I have to 
 thank you most sincerely for your kind- 
 ness in summoning the doctor for me in 
 my extremity." 
 
 Each man protested he had in this matter 
 done no more than his duty, and both said 
 they sympathised with her in the awful 
 calamity which had fallen upon her. 
 
 She bowed her head in acknowledgment 
 of their kind-heaited speeches, and went 
 on : 
 
 "I am, I may say, alone in the world
 
 FOUL PLAY? 23 
 
 and without a friend in London. I am 
 now, or shall be when you go, alone in this 
 house. I do not know what is to be done 
 in a case of this kind. For a long time 
 I have been aware my husband might die 
 at any moment. But now that this has 
 happened, I find myself as unprepared for 
 it as though the possibility of his death had 
 never before entered my mind. I would 
 therefore ask you to add to the favours you 
 have already conferred by telling me what I 
 ous;ht to do in the morning:. " 
 
 She spoke in the most measured and 
 deliberate way. It was plain she did not 
 want to excite compassion. Her manner 
 went so far as to imply that she would resent 
 expressions of condolence. She seemed to 
 wish the two men would regard her simply 
 as an inexperienced woman confronted by 
 an unexpected difficulty, and that they 
 would confine themselves to the business 
 aspect of the affair.
 
 24 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 Santley and Paulton looked at one another 
 inquiringly. 
 
 "It will be impossible for you to stay 
 by yourself in this house to-night," said 
 Paulton, who was completely subjugated by 
 her regal beauty, her sudden misfortune, 
 and her forlorn plight. 
 
 " But what am I to do ? " she asked, 
 turning to him. " It is too late or too early 
 to look for ordinary help ; and if I could 
 get a person to come and stay with me, this 
 place is not fit to receive any one." 
 
 Paulton was overwhelmed by this speech 
 and the contemplation of the scene before 
 him. Here was the most superb woman he 
 had ever seen in his life alone in this house 
 of chaos by night with the dead body of her 
 husband, who had spoken to her but a few 
 hours ago. She could not live here by her- 
 self till daylight. It would drive her mad, 
 or would kill her. It would be little short 
 of murder to leave her as she was. He
 
 FOUL PLAY? 25 
 
 could see plainly that her present calmness 
 was artificial, and that when the need for 
 self-restraint caused by the presence of two 
 strangers was removed, she would break 
 down utterly, collapse — in all likelihood 
 die. He knew that when highly strung 
 natures break down at all they break down 
 more completely than any others. Then he 
 knew that his father and mother were the 
 most kind-hearted and neighbourly people 
 alive, and that if they only heard of the 
 hideous position in which this woman was, 
 they would hasten to her assistance. No 
 doubt the hour — it must now be past two — 
 was most awkward ; but if it was awkward 
 for the succourer, how much more awkward 
 for any one in need of help. 
 
 All this ran through his mind in a 
 moment. He resolved to act ; then he 
 spoke : 
 
 "Mrs. Davenport, my father and mother 
 live close by, only a few houses off. I am
 
 26 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 sure they will be greatly pleased and take 
 it as a kindness if you will come up there 
 to-night. I could send down the coachman 
 to stay here. He is a most good-natured 
 and trustworthy man." 
 
 Dr. Santley gave Paulton a peculiar look, 
 of which the latter could make nothing. 
 
 " What ! " she said. " At such an hour ! 
 I could not think of it." 
 
 "I can assure you," persisted Paulton, 
 " it will not cause any inconvenience. My 
 mother does not in the least mind getting 
 up. I am perfectly certain both my father 
 and mother would be greatly displeased 
 with me if I did not do everything in my 
 power to induce you to come." 
 
 He glanced at Santley for encourage- 
 ment, and again found the incomprehensible 
 expression on the doctor's face. 
 
 She seemed to hesitate. She looked 
 down at her soft, round arm lying on 
 the table.
 
 FOUL PLAY? 27 
 
 "It is most considerate of you to make 
 me such an offer, and if I felt perfectly sure 
 your mother would not regard it as a very 
 inconvenient intrusion, I should be disposed 
 to accept it." 
 
 " Believe me, Mrs. Davenport, I am not 
 exaggerating in the slightest degree when 
 I say that my mother would be displeased 
 with me if I omitted any argument likely 
 to influence you. I appeal to Dr. Santley. 
 He will tell you that my mother is most 
 sympathetic. What do you say, 
 
 doctor I " 
 
 " I am sure I know of no one of kind- 
 lier nature than Mrs. Paulton," said the 
 doctor. 
 
 The face of Santley was now expression- 
 less, the eyes of Mrs. Davenport were 
 fixed on him. 
 
 " I will go," she said, and rose. She 
 walked slowly down the side of the table 
 until she reached the elbow of the couch.
 
 28 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 She bent over the drooped head, kissed the 
 forward-leaning forehead, and then went 
 back to the door, and as she left the room 
 said : " I shall be ready immediately. I do 
 not like to go upstairs. I have a cloak 
 and bonnet in the hall. Please bring the 
 light here a moment." 
 
 "Will you wait until I come back?" 
 said Paulton to Santley, as he passed him 
 by carrying the lamp. " I will not be more 
 than half-an-hour." 
 
 " I'll wait for you," said the doctor. 
 
 In a few seconds Paulton replaced the 
 lamp on the table, and then Mrs. Davenport 
 and he left the house. 
 
 As soon as the sound of their footfalls 
 had died away, the doctor once more 
 approached the recumbent figure. 
 
 " I wish," he thought, " Paulton had not 
 been so enthusiastic in his invitation. As 
 a rule, spasmodic asthma does not kill 
 directly. A little chloroform is not a bad
 
 FOUL PLAY? 29 
 
 thing in spasmodic asthma ; but too much 
 chloroform is a bad thing, and there has 
 been too much here. Why, it's all over 
 the beard, and shirt, and waistcoat! She 
 looks as if she could do anything. I hope 
 this is not a case of foul play."
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 HINTS OF EARLY HISTORY. 
 
 Alfred Paulton had not said too mucn 
 of the kindliness of his father and mother. 
 He left Mrs. Davenport in the drawing- 
 room and knocked at his mothers door, 
 and explained to both father and mother 
 what had occurred, and the step he had 
 taken in the matter. After expressions of 
 surprise and horror at the tragedy at 
 Crescent House, both applauded his action. 
 Mrs. Paul ton then told him to go down to 
 the guest and say that she would follow 
 him in a few minutes. 
 
 When he got back to the drawing-room
 
 HIXTS OF EARLY HISTORY. 3i 
 
 he found the widow where he had left her. 
 She was sitting in an easy-chair, her elbow 
 resting on a table, her head on her hand. 
 She raised her head as he entered. Other- 
 wise she did not move. 
 
 "My mother is delighted you have 
 come," he said. "She will be here in a 
 few minutes. I see the fire has gone out. 
 I hope you do not feel the place very 
 cold?" 
 
 She looked at him with a stony stare. 
 Her brows were slightly raised, but around 
 her eyes the lids were strangely contracted. 
 The expression of the whole face was that 
 of one who suffered pain, but was not 
 giving attention to the pain. When she 
 spoke, her voice was dry and hard. 
 
 " It is most kind of your mother to 
 interest and trouble herself about a perfect 
 stranger. I do not feel cold, thank you." 
 
 The contraction round the eyes relaxed. 
 A look of intelligence alarmed came into
 
 32 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 her eyes, and she asked, in a husky 
 voice : 
 
 "Do you know anything of cases such 
 as this? I mean, do you know anything 
 of the law in such cases ? " 
 
 "The law!" he said, "the law! In 
 what way do you mean ? " 
 
 " Oh," she cried, covering her face with 
 her hands, " it is dreadful to think of — 
 horrible ! Can you not tell me," she 
 pleaded, " if — if it will be necessary to 
 have an " 
 
 She paused and looked at him be- 
 seechingly. 
 
 " An inquest ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Certainly not," he answered promptly. 
 With this beautiful woman before him it 
 was shocking to think of the ordeal and 
 details of an inquest. "Mr. Davenport 
 was suffering from a disease of long stand- 
 ing ; it had been particularly bad to-night,
 
 EINTS OF EARLY HISTORY. 35 
 
 and a violent paroxysm overcame him. 
 My friend, Dr. Santley, will make it 
 right, and you will be spared all pain 
 that can possibly be diverted from you." 
 
 "Thank yon," she said, feebly; and 
 she threw herself back in her chair. 
 
 Nothing further was said until Mrs. 
 Paulton entered the room. The young 
 man introduced Mrs. Davenport to his 
 mother; then he left to rouse the coach- 
 man for the purpose of sitting up at 
 Crescent House. As soon as Paulton had 
 arranged this, he hastened back to Dr. 
 Santley. 
 
 "I came as quickly as I could, doctor. 
 That poor woman is in a dreadful state 
 of mind ; she looks to me as if she were 
 losing her reason." 
 
 "H'm," said the doctor, who was sitting 
 on a chair by the lamp on the table, 
 and had been reading a newspaper he 
 had happened to have in his pocket. He 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 seemed thoughtful or sleepy ; Paulton 
 was not a man of nice observation. 
 
 " Poor thing ! " said the latter, com- 
 passionately ; " she is not only in great 
 grief for the loss of her husband, but 
 was very uneasy about the suddenness 
 of his death/' 
 
 "No wonder," said the doctor drily. 
 
 The younger man sat down on a chair 
 and regarded his companion with surprise. 
 He had known the other for years, and 
 had always taken him for a simple, sym- 
 pathetic man. His tone now was one 
 of cynical distrust, although distrust of 
 what Paulton could not even guess. He 
 leant forward and peered into Santley's 
 face. 
 
 " I told her to make her mind quite 
 easy on the score of the future. You 
 understand what I mean ? " 
 
 " She does not want an inquest ? " 
 
 " Precisely."
 
 HINTS OF EARLY HISTORY. 35 
 
 " That is unfortunate, for I will not 
 certify." 
 
 " What ! " cried Paulton, leaning still 
 farther forward, " you will not certify as 
 to the cause of death ? What do you 
 mean ? " 
 
 He shivered, and looked apprehensively 
 at the body reclining on the couch. 
 
 " I don't know what the cause of death 
 was." 
 
 " She said spasmodic asthma." 
 
 " A disease that very, very rarely kills." 
 
 " I thought that, on the contrary, it 
 was most fatal." 
 
 " No. In a paroxysm of coughing, 
 something in the head or chest may give 
 way, but asthma itself does not kill." 
 
 An uneasy expression came into the 
 young man's face, and, looking straight 
 into the doctor's eyes, he said : 
 
 "And in this case what do you think 
 killed?" 
 
 D 2
 
 3G TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 " It is impossible to say until after 
 the inquest. I found on the floor this" 
 — he held a bottle up in his hand. " It 
 is a two-ounce bottle, empty ; it contained 
 chloroform. There is chloroform spilt all 
 over the beard, shirt, and waistcoat." 
 
 " But perhaps the chloroform was ad- 
 ministered for the relief of the dead 
 man i 
 
 " Perhaps so," said Santley, rising ; " we 
 shall find out all at the inquest. I'm off 
 to bed now. Let nothing be stirred here. 
 Good-night." 
 
 As Dr. Santley turned away from the 
 gate of Crescent House, Paulton s coach- 
 man came up and the youug man was 
 relieved. He walked home straight and 
 went to bed. 
 
 It was past four by this time, and after 
 the excitement of the night there was little 
 chance of the young man closing his eyes. 
 His life up to this had been barren of
 
 BINTS OF EARLY HISTORY. 37 
 
 adventure, and here was lie now plunged 
 into the middle of an affair which would 
 he town talk in twenty- four hours. It 
 was quite plain to him, from Santley's 
 manner, that the latter did not think 
 the man had died a natural death, and 
 it was almost as plain he did not think 
 it was a case of accidental poisoning or 
 suicide. Gradually, as time went by, it 
 seemed to narrow itself down to one 
 question : Did or did not that superb 
 
 woman ? But no ; the mere question 
 
 was a hideous libel ! He wished he could 
 go to sleep ; but sleep would not come. 
 He tossed and tumbled until he felt 
 feverish. In the heat and hurry of events 
 a few hours old he had not had time for 
 thought ; now he had time for thought, 
 but he did not want to think. True, 
 he had no personal interest in that silent 
 room out of which he had stepped a little 
 while ago, but it haunted him, and lay
 
 33 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 before his imagination, lighted up with 
 a fierce light which made every object 
 in it stand out with painful sharpness. 
 
 While the actions of which he had been 
 a spectator were going on at Crescent 
 House, all had been confusion, chaos. 
 Now every object was firmly defined by 
 a hard, rigid line ; every sound had a 
 metallic ring ; every motion went for- 
 ward with mathematical deliberateness and 
 precision. And over this scene of rigid 
 forms and circumspect movement presided 
 the woman, whose dark and lofty beauty 
 had filled him with amazed reverence. 
 
 Murder ! Could it be that murder had 
 been done ? There could be no doubt 
 Santley thought so. Murder done by 
 whom ? Ugh ! How he wished he had 
 had nothing to do with that house ; and 
 yet, it was a privilege even to have seen 
 her, to have heard her voice, to have 
 done her a slight service. Above all, it
 
 HINTS OF EARLY HISTORY. 39 
 
 was consoling to think she was now 
 under this roof. If a fool knew how his 
 thoughts were running now, that fool 
 ^oight think he was in love with this 
 woman. In love ! Monstrous ! He would 
 as soon think of falling in love with a 
 sunset, a melody, a poem. 
 
 Oh, if he could only sleep ! Why 
 should he trouble himself about this 
 matter ? Santley said there would be an 
 inquest. That would be trouble enough 
 for him in all conscience. He, of course, 
 would have to appear, although he 
 scarcely knew how his evidence could 
 be material. 
 
 It must be near six o'clock now. There 
 was no good in staying in bed any longer ; 
 he would get up and go out for a walk. 
 It was dawn, he felt feverish, and the 
 air would refresh him. 
 
 He set off at a quick pace. The breeze 
 was raw and cold. He felt physically
 
 40 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 invigorated, but his mental unrest had 
 not abated. Do what he would he could 
 not banish the scene of the night from 
 his mind — he could not get rid of the 
 awful suspicion Santley's words had given 
 rise to. Over and over he told himself 
 that even the doctor had not explicitly 
 formulated that suspicion. Over and over 
 again that suspicion would intrude upon 
 hi3 thoughts. 
 
 He did not return to the house until 
 breakfast-time. At the suggestion of Mrs. 
 Paulton, Mrs. Davenport was breakfasting 
 in her own room, as she was tired and 
 shaken. Alfred had to go over the whole 
 story once more for his father, but he 
 was careful not to say a word of the 
 terrible hint thrown out by Santley. 
 
 The moment breakfast was over he 
 left home, and, without having made up 
 his mind as to whither he was going, 
 found himself in front of Santley's house
 
 HINTS OF EARLY HISTORY. 41 
 
 just as the doctor was stepping into 
 his brougham bound for his morning 
 visits. 
 
 " I say, doctor," he said, getting up 
 close to the other, " what you let fall 
 about that unfortunate affair at Crescent 
 House kept me awake all night. You 
 really don't think there has been any- 
 thing; wrong; ? " 
 
 Santley shook his head gravely as he got 
 into his brougham, saying : 
 
 " I don't know, Mr. Paulton ; I can't 
 say. But I am sorry you mixed yourself 
 up with the affair more than was absolutely 
 necessary." 
 
 This was but poor comfort to the young 
 man. He found it impossible to believe 
 any evil of that marvellous-looking woman. 
 If there was anything in what Santley said 
 it plainly pointed at her ; for were not she 
 and her husband the only people in the 
 house ?
 
 42 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 He did not care to &o home. He could 
 not meet that woman while even the hint 
 of such a suspicion was in his head. He 
 did not suspect her ; but the suspicion had 
 been spoken to him, it was sounding in his 
 ears, and he could not bring himself to 
 
 ad face to face with her and hear that 
 murmur. He told himself this was an 
 absurd condition of mind; but he could 
 not help it. What was she to him, or he 
 to her, that he should thus give way to 
 such feelings ? She was a beautiful, a 
 surprisingly beautiful woman to whom he 
 had rendered a slight service, shown a little 
 kindness. That was all. 
 
 He wandered aimlessly about for an hour, 
 and finally went into town. Dulwich was 
 intolerable to him. At Victoria railway 
 station he took a hansom and drove to 
 the Robin Hood Club. It was now be- 
 tween eleven and twelve. The club had 
 not been long open, and there were only
 
 HINTS OF EARLY HISTORY. 
 
 three members in the place. One of th : 
 happened to be Jen . a young 
 
 Irishman, an intimate fid . : I 
 reputed to be clever, and km: a U 
 indolent. To him Paulton told ... 
 of Crescent House, and what I. Santl 
 had hinted at. 
 
 Ud to this Jerrv O'Brien had :. _ r_ 
 little close attention tc the stoiy. He 
 was sniokinor in a huge easy-chaii wi 
 eyes half shut Th that m n 
 
 had poisoned her husband roused rven 
 him to attention, and as Paulton fa 
 finished his story he began I -.: 
 
 "And bo this doctor .:: yroora \ 
 cert - to the : leath, and 
 
 thinks your goddess may have had a hand 
 in it : " 
 
 "'Yes. Isn't it horri 
 
 ''What is yora goddess life 
 
 '•'Dark and most lovely. A .
 
 44 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 " Good figure ? " 
 "Perfect." 
 
 " Did you hear her name ? " 
 
 " Yes ; Davenport." 
 
 Jerry O'Brien blew the smoke of his cigar 
 away with a whistle. 
 
 " Is she English ? " 
 
 "No. I think Scotch." 
 
 " Possibly Irish ? " 
 
 " Ay, she may be Irish." 
 
 " And her husband was an elderly man, 
 with a greyish full beard and chronic 
 asthma ? " 
 
 " Yes. Do you know them ? " 
 
 " By heavens, I do ! And I think I 
 know, if there has been foul play, who 
 cheated." 
 
 "Who? Not she?" 
 
 " Not she directly, any way, but Tom 
 Blake, the biggest scoundrel Ireland has 
 turned out for years and years, and an old 
 lover of hers. I saw him in Piccadilly to-
 
 HINTS OF EABLY EISTOEY. 45 
 
 day. He looked as if lie was meditating 
 murder. Poor old Davenport ! — I knew 
 him well. He was a simple man. She 
 must have told Blake of the lonely house. 
 Your doctor is right. There is reason for 
 suspicion, and I'll be at the inquest. You 
 will, of course ? " 
 
 " Unfortunately, yes." 
 
 " Then I promise you will hear an interest- 
 ing story." 
 
 Paulton shuddered. 
 

 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 SEEKING HELP. 
 
 Young Paulton felt anything but relieved 
 or cheered by Jerry O'Brien's words. He 
 began now to feel it would have been 
 wiser if he had not meddled in this affair. 
 It was quite true his father and mother 
 were the kindest couple in England ; but, 
 like most other middle-class elderly 
 people, they were careful about appear- 
 ances and preferred a smooth and easy way 
 of life to one of surprises and startling 
 situations. 
 
 And now were they — owing to his 
 hasty action of the night before — brought
 
 SEEKING HELP. 47 
 
 into immediate contact with an inquest 
 and a story, which might turn out to be 
 a scandal, which might have for its core 
 an infamous crime. This other man, this 
 Blake, of whom Jerry O'Brien spoke in 
 such unmeasured terms, might, if he ap- 
 peared upon the stage, complicate matters 
 infinitely. 
 
 Besides, although he had taken elaborate 
 care to tell himself he was in no danger 
 of falling in love with Mrs. Davenport, 
 that did not make it desirable a former 
 and disreputable admirer should be in 
 the neighbourhood. But, after all, Jerry 
 O'Brien's surmises might be quite base- 
 less. This old admirer might have ceased 
 to admire — might never in all his life 
 have been within miles of Half Moon 
 Lane, the Crescent House. 
 
 At present what was he to do with 
 himself? There was a kind of treason 
 in leaving all the burden of the situation
 
 48 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 on the shoulders of his father and mother. 
 He did not know anything about inquests 
 beyond what he had gathered now and 
 then from reading a summarised report 
 in a newspaper. If it was mean to keep 
 away from his father and mother, what 
 could he think of leaving this newly- 
 made widow derelict? And yet what 
 about this old lover? Confound the 
 whole thing! Now he was heartily sorry 
 he had bound himself up in it. 
 
 And yet when he thought of her 
 he charged himself with cowardice for 
 flinching. 
 
 " Look here, O'Brien," he said at length, 
 "what ought I to do?" 
 
 "Do!" cried O'Brien scornfully; "why, 
 get out of it as fast as ever you can. 
 I hope you're not such a fool as to mix 
 yourself and your family any more up in 
 this miserable matter." 
 
 Alfred shook his head gravely.
 
 SEEKING HELP. 49 
 
 "I can't retreat now. I have promised 
 to see her out of the trouble " 
 
 "And a pretty chance you have of 
 seeing her out of the trouble ! My belief 
 is that every hour will make matters only 
 worse." 
 
 "Do be reasonable and try and help 
 me. You know I would depend on you 
 more than on any other man living. I 
 can't go home and turn this woman out 
 of doors, and you ought to be able to 
 understand that I don't like to confess 
 to the old people I have been hasty or 
 unwise. Don't desert me, O'Brien." 
 
 The other got out of his chair with a 
 growl, and began pacing up and down 
 the smoking-room of the club. O'Brien 
 had private reasons of his own for wish- 
 ing to keep friendly with Alfred Paulton. 
 Jerry knew no pleasanter house in all 
 London to spend a long evening in than 
 the Paultons', and he knew no nicer girl 
 
 VOL. I. e
 
 50 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 in all London than Madge Paulton, 
 Alfred's younger sister. But these facts 
 were both reasons for his impatience with 
 his friend. He felt a firm conviction 
 the adventure of the night before would 
 have no gratifying sequel. The sight of 
 Tom Blake, taken in conjunction with 
 Paulton's story, was enough to make any 
 prudent man cautious. And here now 
 was Alfred, plunged headlong into one 
 of the most disagreeable experiences which 
 could befall a quiet-going citizen. It was 
 too bad, but there was no cure for the 
 thing. It would certainly be rather mean 
 of Alfred to retire from the position in 
 which he had voluntarily placed himself 
 with this woman. O'Brien could not 
 abandon his friend any more than his 
 friend could abandon this woman. 
 
 He stopped in his walk, and said, 
 abruptly : 
 
 "The first thing is to get a solicitor. 
 Do you know of one ? "
 
 SEEKING HELP. 51 
 
 ' ' There's Spencer, my own man, or 
 there's my father's." 
 
 "And a nice pair they'd make in a case 
 of this kind. Your father's man wouldn't 
 touch it with a forty-foot ladder, and 
 Spencer would get every one connected 
 with the matter locked up. No, you want 
 a man that's accustomed to the work. 
 He must be as sharp as bayonets and as 
 persevering. I would not attach so much 
 importance to this point, only that I know 
 Tom Blake is about. I feel you are 
 standing on a mine, and may be blown 
 sky-high any moment. I have it ! You 
 must get Pringle — Pringle, of Pringle, 
 Pringle, and Co. Young Pringle is the 
 very man for you, and he's a good sort 
 too. Come on, and I'll introduce you to 
 him." 
 
 The two friends left the club and pro- 
 ceeded at once to the office of Pringle, 
 Pringle, and Co. Here they were fortunate 
 
 E 2 
 
 LIBRARY - - rf(||1in|S
 
 52 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 in finding the younger Pringle, and at their 
 service. 
 
 He was a low-sized, stoutish, horsey- 
 looking, clean-shaven man of about thirty- 
 five, in very tight-fitting clothes. He bade 
 the two visitors be seated, and then listened 
 with exemplary patience to Paulton's story. 
 When it was finished, he crossed his legs 
 and reflected for a few moments. 
 
 "I see," he said — "I see. Supposing 
 Mrs. Davenport is willing I should appear 
 for her, I think all will be right. Of 
 course, it would be nonsense to pretend to 
 believe that a thing of this kind is agree- 
 able. It is not. Things of this kind are 
 awkward and painful ; but that is all. I 
 feel fully persuaded, beyond the incon- 
 venience of appearing as a witness, Mrs. 
 Davenport will suffer none. Your doctor 
 must be mad, I should say, Mr. Paulton. 
 You don't think he could be induced to 
 certify I "
 
 SEEKING HELP. 53 
 
 " I am perfectly sure he won't. I have 
 known him some years, and he is a man 
 of great determination," said Paulton. 
 
 " Well, we must only try and do the 
 best we can. Has the deceased any 
 relatives — blood relatives, I mean ? " 
 
 "I don't know," said Paulton. 
 
 " Yes, he has a brother, who lives in the 
 south of Ireland," answered O'Brien. " Mr. 
 Davenport was somewhat peculiar in his 
 thoughts and habits, but his brother is an 
 oddity." 
 
 "Ah, that is not fortunate. No doubt 
 he will want to know all about this un- 
 lucky affair. 
 
 " And now, O'Brien, it is your turn. I 
 want you to tell me all you know about 
 this other man, Blake." 
 
 "Well, Til tell you all I know about 
 the whole thing," said Jerry O'Brien. 
 
 "Ay, do," said the solicitor, settling 
 himself comfortably in his elbow chair.
 
 54 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 " The man who is dead, Louis Davenport, 
 was a native of the south of Ireland, 
 County Waterford, to be exact. His wife 
 is about thirty-four, and he must have 
 been about sixty when he died. She, too, 
 is Irish ; her maiden name was Butler. 
 She comes of a good Cork family — the 
 Butlers of Scrouthea. They were as poor 
 as church mice. Davenport was rich, and 
 had money, not land; and Marion Butler 
 was a beauty, as my friend Paulton has 
 told you. 
 
 "About ten years ago, when Louis 
 Davenport was elderly, and Marion Butler 
 no longer very young, he proposed to her 
 father for her. The father was delighted, 
 for Davenport promised all sorts of com- 
 fortable things about money ; but when 
 the matter was spoken of to Miss Butler, 
 they found a difficulty had to be faced, 
 for Mr. Tom Blake stood in the way. 
 
 " This Tom Blake is and was one of the
 
 SEEKING HELP. 55 
 
 most hopeless scamps in Europe. He is 
 now about thirty-eight years of age, and 
 has deserved hanging for every year of his 
 life. He was in the army, to start with ; 
 he was kicked out of it. He tried the Turf 
 for a while, until he was kicked out of that 
 too. Then he turned his hand to card- 
 sharping. What he's doing now, I don't 
 know, except he may have gone in for a 
 little murder. He's quite capable of it, 
 I assure you, PriDgle — quite capable of it." 
 
 "And you say this Miss Butler had a 
 strong predilection for this objectionable 
 man ? " 
 
 "It amounted to nothing short of in- 
 fatuation. As the account of the matter 
 reached me, she was assured by people 
 who were quite disinterested that he was 
 a thorough scamp. They might as well 
 have saved their breath. She would 
 listen to all they had to say, and simply 
 shake her head."
 
 56 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 "And how did they in the end over 
 come this infatuation?" 
 
 "They never overcame it at all. They 
 got her to marry Davenport by appealing 
 to the baseness of Blake's nature. Some 
 friends of mine were very intimate with 
 the Butlers at that time, and I heard 
 the whole history of his abominable 
 conduct. He was then in great ex- 
 tremities for money, and took a sum 
 down to leave the country and hold no 
 communication with her. That's the sort 
 of man Tom Blake is." 
 
 "But surely this woman whom he 
 treated so vilely cannot care for him still 
 — cannot have any regard for such a 
 scurvy knave ? " 
 
 "I don't know how matters have gone 
 of late. I have been out of their tracks 
 for some time. If he has any influence 
 now it may rest on fear, not fascination. 
 I am quite sure if there is anything
 
 SEEKING HELP. 57 
 
 wrong, lie is at the bottom of it. I have 
 been in London for months now, and 
 never saw him or heard of him. Is it a 
 mere coincidence that I should come 
 across him just as I hear this story from 
 Paulton ? " 
 
 "It is strange. I presume Mrs. Daven- 
 port is childless ? " 
 
 "Yes. And as far as I know she is 
 now absolutely alone in the world, if you 
 do not count this brother-in-law, with 
 whom she never got on well." 
 
 "I'll go out to Dulwich with you 
 myself now. I think that will be the 
 best thing." 
 
 The three men rose and walked to 
 Ludgate Hill railway station.
 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 PEINGLE UNANSWERED. 
 
 When the three men arrived at Dulwich, 
 they went straight to Carlingford House, 
 where Mr. Paulton lived. The owner was 
 in. Some years ago he had retired from 
 business in the City, and now interested 
 himself in local affairs, his garden, his 
 horses, and reading. He was bluff, white- 
 haired, stout, brief of speech, straight- 
 forward, kindly. He was not quite sixty 
 yet, notwithstanding his white hair. 
 
 Just as they got into the house he was 
 crossing the hall. He paused, and held 
 out his hand cordially to Jerry O'Brien.
 
 PBINGLE UNANSWERED. 59 
 
 "What lucky wind has blown you here 
 at such an hour?" he cried. "You are 
 just too late for luncheon; but I dare 
 say they'll be able to find something 
 for you and Alfred, and " 
 
 He now became aware the third man 
 was a stranger, and stopped. 
 
 Young Paulton introduced the solicitor, 
 and then all four went into a little 
 library on the right hand side of the 
 hall. Alfred felt acutely the difficulty of 
 his position, and he found himself com- 
 pletely at a loss to explain the situation 
 to his father. Then it occurred to him 
 to appeal to O'Brien for help. 
 
 "Jerry," said he, "tell the governor 
 all about it." 
 
 The old man looked apprehensively from 
 one to the other. There was evidently 
 something wrong. 
 
 "Out with it whatever it is, my lad/' 
 said he to O'Brien, and, without further
 
 60 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 delay, Jerry began. When lie had finished, 
 the old man seemed thunderstruck. It 
 was incredible that he should ever be 
 brought into contact with such people, 
 and such a history. He had sat down in 
 an easy-chair, and now he felt he had not 
 the strength to get out of it. He looked 
 blankly around at the three figures and 
 the bookcases and the walls, as if he were 
 awaiting contradiction from animate or 
 inanimate objects. But no one spoke, and 
 nothing occurred to reassure him. 
 
 At last the solicitor came forward with, 
 "You know, sir, we have really nothing 
 whatever to go on yet. Dr. Santley's dis- 
 satisfaction and the lady's shrinking from 
 an inquiry, and the presence of this man 
 Blake in London may all point to nothing 
 — end in nothing. I have come out here 
 to clear up the whole thing, and I have no 
 doubt that if I might be favoured with half-
 
 PBINGLE UNANSWERED. 61 
 
 an-hour's conversation with Mrs. Davenport 
 all our uneasiness would disappear." 
 
 A look of hope came into Mr. Paulton's 
 face. He rose, and, approaching the 
 solicitor, said : "I wish you would see 
 her and bring us good news. She is 
 keeping her room, but I think she will 
 come down to the drawing-room if Mrs. 
 Paulton asks her. You would greatly 
 oblige me if you would see her. I 
 wouldn't be mixed up with a case of that 
 kind for any consideration." 
 
 "I shall be only too happy to do any- 
 thing I can in your interest, which is, I 
 presume, identical with that of the afflicted 
 lady. The first step to be taken is to 
 ascertain through Mrs. Paulton if Mrs. 
 Davenport will see me." 
 
 "I'll go immediately." Mr. Paulton 
 moved towards the door. 
 
 "A moment, sir. Don't you think that
 
 62 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 if Mrs. Davenport will see me it would be 
 as well Mrs. Paulton said a few words of 
 preparation. Such as, for instance, that 
 in cases of this kind it was always desirable 
 to have advice, and to allow some one to 
 act instead of the principal ; as owing to 
 the distress attendant on loss one is little 
 able to look after matters of detail. If 
 Mrs. Paulton would be good enough she 
 might say that you thought I might be of 
 some slight use. Anything of that kind 
 Mrs. Paulton might say would prevent 
 my coming too suddenly on the widow." 
 
 " Quite so. I am glad you mentioned 
 it. I shall do exactly as you suggest. I 
 shall be back as soon as I can." He 
 hurried out of the room. 
 
 In less than a quarter of an hour he 
 returned, rubbing his hands. It was plain 
 by his appearance that he had been suc- 
 cessful. Yes; Mrs. Davenport was in the 
 drawing-room, and would see Mr. Pringle.
 
 PllIXGLE UNANSWERED. 63 
 
 He went up, was introduced by Mrs. 
 Paulton, who then retired, leaving client 
 and lawyer together. 
 
 The lady had sent tip to Crescent 
 House for a change of clothes, and now 
 appeared in a plain, black dress, with 
 sleeves of ordinary length, and without 
 the orange scarf or the diamonds at her 
 throat or girdle. She motioned him to a 
 seat, and then took one herself. 
 
 What Alfred said had prepared him 
 for something out of the common, but for 
 nothing like what he now saw. He was pre- 
 pared to meet a beautiful woman in need 
 of his help — he found a regal woman who 
 might perhaps condescend to give him 
 orders. Her face was absolutely without 
 colour, save the full red lips, the dark 
 impenetrable eyes, and the black eye- 
 brows. But the modelling of the face was 
 superb, and the carriage of the head mag- 
 nificent. And yet he was conscious of
 
 64 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 something that detracted from, or contra- 
 dicted the imperial grandeur of the head. 
 There was no splendour in the pose of the 
 figure. In the arms, and figure, and gait, 
 there was an air of patient, suppliant 
 dutifulness, that seemed to plead for love 
 and protection. 
 
 " Mrs. Paulton has explained to me," 
 she said, in a low, soft voice, "that it is 
 better I should have some one to advise 
 me in the present circumstances, and that 
 you have been good enough, Mr. Pringle, 
 to allow me to look to you for the help I 
 need." 
 
 She spoke with great precision and 
 delicacy of tone. It was a flattery to 
 hear her utter one's name. 
 
 He answered in a low voice. His voice 
 never before seemed so harsh in his own 
 ears. "It is well for you to have 
 advice. You may rely upon my doing all 
 I can for you."
 
 FRINGLE UNANSWERED. 65 
 
 It was simply monstrous to associate 
 this woman with the idea of crime. 
 Attorney and man of the world though 
 he was, he could not be persuaded into 
 such a ridiculous belief. O'Brien must 
 be a fool. Or no, it wasn't O'Brien — it 
 was Paulton's doctor who had the honour 
 of broaching that absurdity. 
 
 "I am quite sure of that. And the 
 first thing I want to ask you about is, 
 when I shall need your advice ? — for I 
 know absolutely nothing about such things. 
 Mr. Davenport has a brother living ; I sup- 
 pose he had better be telegraphed for ? " 
 
 "Yes. He must be telegraphed for at 
 once." 
 
 " Then I suppose the — funeral must be 
 arranged for immediately ? " 
 
 "Yes. Then, as you are aware, a few 
 legal formalities have to be gone through 
 before that." 
 
 "What are they?" 
 
 VOL. I. P
 
 66 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 " Have you not been told ? " 
 
 " No. Pray tell me." 
 
 "Well, the sad event took place so 
 suddenly that a certain form has to be 
 observed. In this case it will be the 
 merest form." 
 
 " Some sort of certificate has to be got, 
 I dare say ? " 
 
 "Well, yes; if you put it in that way." 
 
 " And what must I do ? " 
 
 "You say you know nothing of such 
 matters as we are now talking about. 
 The first advice I have to give you is, 
 that you must repose full confidence in 
 me. Eemember, I am bound by a rule 
 of my profession to respect any confidence 
 you may place in me. I shall have to 
 ask you questions which would be im- 
 pertinent from any one but your legal 
 adviser. Mind, all this is merely to save 
 you annoyance hereafter. Will you trust 
 me with the history of last night ? "
 
 PEINGLE UNANSWERED. 67 
 
 "I will — as far as I may," faintly. 
 
 " I have heard something of last night. 
 I will not trouble you with any inquiries 
 that I do not consider absolutely necessary. 
 You and Mr. Davenport arrived together 
 yesterday evening, and came on to your 
 new house close by, your furniture having 
 preceded you by only a few hours, so that 
 the house was all in disorder ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And you came unaccompanied by any 
 servant ; may I ask you why was this ? " 
 
 "Mr. Davenport had peculiar notions 
 about never moving servants from one 
 house to another. He insisted on getting 
 new servants when we changed." 
 
 " So that it was at his desire you came 
 unattended ? " 
 
 "Certainly. Only it was too late when 
 we arrived, we should have got some 
 one to help us." 
 
 " And was Mr. Davenport in his 
 
 f 2
 
 68 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 usual health when you reached Crescent 
 House ?" 
 
 "No. His asthma was worse, but not 
 very much worse. "When it was bad he 
 could not lie down. My room was the 
 only one in order, and he said he would 
 rest on the couch for the night. I left 
 him at about eleven, but did not go to 
 bed, as I was not quite easy about him, 
 and thought I'd come down and put some 
 coal on the fire later. I fell asleep in a 
 chair, and when I went down I found all 
 w r as over." 
 
 " He had a large quantity of chloroform 
 by him ? " 
 
 "Yes; a two-ounce bottle, almost full." 
 
 "And he was in the habit of using 
 chloroform when the spasms were bad ? " 
 
 " Yes ; but what do you mean ? You 
 are perplexing and terrifying me. Pray 
 speak plainly to me." 
 
 11 1 shall very soon be done. Kemember,
 
 PBINGLE UNANSWERED. 69 
 
 I told you I should ask no question that 
 was not absolutely essential. Now, from 
 the time you and Mr. Davenport entered 
 that house, and until Mr. Paulton and 
 the doctor entered it, had any other 
 person access to it ? " 
 
 She grasped the edge of the table 
 near her. She trembled as in an ague. 
 Her lips grew as pallid as her brow. 
 She did not speak. 
 
 " Eemember, anything you communicate 
 is privileged, and will not find its way 
 abroad through me. I am trying to 
 get the means of protecting you. Of 
 course you are fully at liberty to refuse 
 to answer me now ; but all questions 
 will have to be answered at the in- 
 quest." 
 
 " Inquest ! " she whispered, in a voice 
 of abject terror. She rose to her feet 
 and stood swaying to and fro, one hand 
 still grasping the table. "Inquest! Mr.
 
 70 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 Paulton said there would be no inquest. 
 There shall be no inquest." 
 
 "The bottle was found empty." 
 
 "Oh, Heaven, take away my life 
 from me ! " 
 
 "Was Blake in the house that night ?" 
 
 She took her hand from the table and 
 stood still a moment, looking upward. 
 Then slowly she raised both her arms 
 aloft, and cried : 
 
 "Hear Thou my prayer!" 
 
 She stood a while motionless. After a 
 moment she said, in a firm voice : 
 
 "No mercy!" 
 
 She dropped her arms to her side, 
 bowed slowly to him, and then with erect 
 head and a firm step walked out of the 
 room.
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 HER SUDDEN RESOLVE. 
 
 For some time after Mrs. Davenport 
 left the drawing-room, young Pringle 
 stood motionless, with his hand resting 
 on the back of a chair. The scene had 
 taken him completely by surprise. At 
 the beginning of it he had made up his 
 mind, or rather his emotions had so 
 wrought upon him, he determined she 
 had no reprehensible connection with the 
 event of the night before. 
 
 He had implored her to confide in him, 
 and she had given him her confidence 
 up to a certain point. Then she not
 
 72 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 only refused to trust him any more, but 
 behaved in such an extraordinary way as 
 to lay herself open to the gravest suspi- 
 cions. If she had at the end of their 
 interview fallen down in a faint, he could 
 have formed an opinion of the case — an 
 opinion which would not have been very 
 favourable to her, but still something 
 definite. But the manner of her leaving 
 the room seemed to throw a new light, 
 or rather cast a new kind of shadow on 
 the case. 
 
 He had better go down at once and 
 inform Mr. Paulton of what had oc- 
 curred. 
 
 He left the drawing-room and returned 
 to the library. In as few words as 
 possible he told the owner of the house 
 that he feared there was no chance of 
 avoiding the unpleasantness of an inquest. 
 Mr. Paulton then asked what the lady 
 had said, but Pringle explained he could
 
 HER SUDDEN RESOLVE. 73 
 
 not divulge it. He made no comment 
 whatever. 
 
 The old man breathed heavily, and 
 looked about helplessly when the solicitor 
 had finished. 
 
 The two young men returned his look, 
 but there was no comforting assurance in 
 their gaze. 
 
 Alfred Paulton was now profoundly 
 impressed with a sense of the unpleasant- 
 ness into which he had drawn the whole 
 family. 
 
 " I am very sorry, sir," said he, address- 
 ing his father, "that I have been the 
 cause of all this worry. Of course I had 
 not the least idea last night that any- 
 thing of this kind was likely to arise. 
 If I had, I should never have acted as I 
 did." 
 
 "It is most unfortunate," said the 
 father. 
 
 "Well," broke in Jerry O'Brien, "there's
 
 74 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 no use now in crying over spilt milk. 
 What we have to ask ourselves is : How 
 can it be best faced — eh, Pringle ? Isn't 
 that the practical question ? " 
 
 " I think so," said the solicitor. " For 
 my part I find myself in rather an awk- 
 ward position. Mrs. Davenport's interests 
 and yours, Mr. Paulton, can scarcely be 
 said to be any longer identical. I cannot 
 advise both. Besides, Mr. Paulton, you 
 have a solicitor of your own. My position 
 is uncomfortable — scarcely professional." 
 
 "My father's solicitor would be little or 
 no use in this case, Mr. Pringle," said 
 Alfred. " That is the reason we came to 
 you." 
 
 "Mr. Pringle," said the father, "pray 
 do not throw us over. If you do, I shall 
 not know where to turn. Can you not 
 show us any way out of this unhappy 
 situation ? " 
 
 " Of course," said Pringle, " you must
 
 BEE SUDDEN BESOLVE. 75 
 
 put up with the consequences of facts up 
 to this moment. What I suppose you to 
 be asking me is — How can further con- 
 sequences be avoided, or can they be 
 avoided at all ? " 
 
 "Precisely," said Mr. Paulton. "Can 
 they be avoided at all ? — and if so, 
 how ? " 
 
 " Well, as you offered the hospitality of 
 your roof to Mrs. Davenport, and she has 
 accepted it, you can't say to her, or even 
 show to her, that you wish her to go " 
 
 " Quite impossible," interrupted Alfred. 
 
 " But might I not say — that supposing 
 she will see me again — a thiDg I doubt 
 very much — it would be most desirable 
 for her to move into town, so that she 
 might be near me and I near her?" 
 
 " That would not be a bad plan," said 
 Mr. Paulton, looking at his * son and 
 O'Brien for confirmation. " What do you 
 think, boys?"
 
 76 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 " I don't see what better can be done," 
 said O'Brien, answering for the two. 
 
 He answered quickly, for he was half 
 afraid that Alfred had not even yet made 
 up his mind as to the desirability of her 
 leaving the house. 
 
 "The great difficulty is that time is 
 short, and I don't think I could intrude 
 upon her again to-day. We had quite a 
 scene upstairs. Judging from the state of 
 agitation in which she left me, I should 
 imagine she will not see any one on busi- 
 ness during the remainder of the day." 
 
 At that moment the door of the library 
 opened and Mrs. Davenport stepped into 
 the room. She was in her walking dress. 
 
 All the men rose and stood looking at 
 her silently. Mr. Paulton was the first 
 to recover his presence of mind, and offered 
 her a chair. 
 
 She came over quietly to where he stood, 
 bowing slightly as she moved.
 
 HER SUDDEN RESOLVE. 77 
 
 "I hope I do not disturb you, gentle- 
 men," she said, in a gentle voice and with 
 a wan smile. 
 
 "Not in the least," said Mr. Paulton. 
 " Will you not take a chair ? " 
 
 " Thank you, no. I am going out." 
 
 " Going out ! May not some one go for 
 you — one of my daughters or one of the 
 servants 1 " 
 
 " You are very good ; but I must go 
 myself. I have just been explaining to 
 Mrs. Paulton. I have come, Mr. Paulton, 
 to thank you for your great kindness to 
 me, a complete stranger. Believe me, I 
 shall never forget it — never as long as I 
 live. If a friend in need is a friend indeed, 
 you have been a great friend ; for I never 
 wanted a friend more than I did this 
 morning. I have come to thank you and 
 to say good-bye." 
 
 " Good-bye ! " he cried in astonishment. 
 "Why should you leave us?"
 
 78 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 His surprise was not feigned. 
 
 "Since you were kind enough to give 
 me shelter, a serious difference has arisen 
 in my position. When I came into your 
 house I believed that there would be no 
 unusual trouble about my poor husband's 
 death. Now I understand in that I was 
 mistaken. It would be monstrous on my 
 part to involve you, Mr. Paulton, in any 
 way in this unpleasantness, and it will be 
 best for me to be alone." 
 
 She spoke with perfect composure, and 
 Pringle could scarcely believe that this 
 calm, collected woman, with the wan 
 smile and resigned air, was the one who, 
 a little while ago, had spoken impassioned 
 words of despair. 
 
 Mr. Paulton was disturbed by this 
 sudden and unexpected prospect of deliver- 
 ance. There could be no doubt of the 
 woman's sincerity. Here she was, with- 
 out a suggestion from any one, offering
 
 SEE SUDDEN RESOLVE. 79 
 
 to take the very step he desired. It was 
 necessary to say something, and kind- 
 hearted as he was, a polite lie was a sin 
 utterly beneath him. He felt extremely 
 awkward. 
 
 " Since you consider it useful to your 
 own interest that you should go, I will 
 say nothing against your leaving us." 
 
 "Allow me, Mrs. Davenport, to say 
 that I think it will be better for you to 
 be in London than here. I can then see 
 you at any moment without delay," joined 
 in Pringle. 
 
 When she heard his voice she turned 
 to him. A shadow passed across her 
 face. When he ceased speaking, she 
 merely bowed. Turning her glance once 
 more on Mr. Paulton, she went on : 
 
 " I have explained matters to Mrs. 
 Paulton, and said good-bye to her. Your 
 daughters are out, but your wife has 
 promised me to say good-bye to them
 
 80 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 for me ; and now there remains for me to 
 say good-bye to only you and your son." 
 
 She held out her hand. 
 
 The host suffered a revulsion of feeling 
 now that he heard her say good-bye, and 
 saw her hold out her hand to him. It 
 was hard to picture this beautiful woman 
 alone in London, with her new woe. As 
 long as she was an abstraction, as long 
 as she was upstairs, and he regarded her 
 as simply the source of notoriety if not 
 of scandal, it was easy to wish her away 
 at any inconvenience to herself or cost 
 to him. But here she was now antici- 
 pating his wishes, doing precisely as he 
 had most desired — about to launch her- 
 self alone on the vast ocean of London 
 without a friend, and that, too, at the 
 very time when she was most in need of 
 friendly countenance and protection. It 
 was too bad — much too bad.
 
 EEE SUDDEN BE SOLVE. 81 
 
 He took her Land, and said, with perfect 
 sincerity now : 
 
 "I am really sorry to say good-bye to 
 you — really sorry you must go. I would 
 like to be of any service to you I can. 
 Will you, as a favour, promise me, if I 
 can in any way assist you, you will let 
 me know ? " 
 
 "I will, indeed, Mr. Paulton. I am 
 most grateful to you, and I am sure you 
 would do anything you could for me ; 
 but" — she paused and sighed — "I am 
 greatly afraid no one can do much to 
 help me now. I must make up my 
 mind to bear what cannot be avoided — to 
 bear it bravely." 
 
 The tone in which these words were 
 uttered and the smile which accompanied 
 them were worse than any tears. 
 
 "But," said Mr. Paulton, still keeping 
 the hand she had given him, " do you not 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 82 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 think you had better wait a little, until 
 evening, even if no longer?" 
 
 " I am greatly obliged to you. But 
 what is to be gained by delay ? Nothing." 
 
 "Well, but where do you propose 
 going ? What hotel do you intend stay- 
 ing at ? " 
 
 "I know one," she answered, wearily, 
 as she withdrew her hand gently from 
 his. "It does not matter which or 
 where." 
 
 "But .you are not taking anything 
 with you ! You cannot go merely as you 
 are ! " 
 
 " I fear I must. I cannot take any- 
 thing out of that awful house — no, never " 
 — with a shudder. "All the things that 
 are now there are like my dead husband 
 — dead to me for ever. I can get what I 
 need in London." 
 
 "At all events, you must not go alone. 
 You must allow some one to escort you.
 
 HER SUDDEN RESOLVE. S3 
 
 I am certain my son would be delighted 
 to take you wherever you may wish to 
 
 go-" 
 
 " It would give me great pleasure," said 
 Alfred eagerly. 
 
 "You are both, I know, too good and 
 kind to mistake for ungraciousness the 
 refusal which I must give to your offer. I 
 have no alternative but to go alone." 
 
 " Mrs. Davenport," said Pringle, " I am 
 going to town at once. May I hope you 
 will allow me to see you as far as either 
 Ludgate Hill or Victoria? I am afraid 
 that my want of caution when speaking to 
 you a few minutes ago upstairs may have 
 betrayed me into saying or implying more 
 than I really should. We could talk a 
 little more on the way in." 
 
 " With your permission, I will go by 
 myself. Farewell ; " and, with a bow that 
 included all, she left the room. 
 
 They saw her walk through the little 
 
 G 2
 
 84 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 garden, open the gate, and reach the road. 
 Then they lost sight of her. 
 
 For a long while no one spoke. Mr. 
 Paulton broke the silence. "I'm very 
 sorry. " He did not say for what ; he 
 scarcely knew for what. 
 
 " She's a wonderful woman," said Jerry 
 O'Brien. " I am not surprised at her not 
 speaking to me. She bowed to me as much 
 as to say she knew me. I often met her 
 before, but never saw her in any humour 
 like this. Why, in the name of all that's 
 mysterious, would she not allow any one 
 to go with her ? It could not do her any 
 harm for either you or Pringle or Alfred to 
 go with her." 
 
 " That struck me as most strange," said 
 Mr. Paulton. 
 
 "We are all friends here," said Pringle. 
 "It doesn't seem strange to me. It seems 
 foolish, though. If they want her they can 
 catch her abroad as well as in England."
 
 HER SUDDEN RESOLVE. 85 
 
 " Abroad!" said Mr. Paulton, in per- 
 plexity. " Surely sue is not going abroad 
 before the funeral of her husband. No 
 woman would think of leaving the country 
 before her husband is buried." 
 
 " Under certain circumstances, a woman 
 might if an inquest was to precede the 
 burial." 
 
 " Oh, I see." 
 
 " Now, gentlemen, I think we ought to 
 be able to guess why she would have no 
 luggage, no escort. She is going to disguise 
 herself and fly to the Continent."
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 LIGHT AFTER DARKNESS. 
 
 When Mrs. Davenport left Paulton she 
 walked straight to Heme Hill railway sta- 
 tion. She asked when the next train would 
 start for Victoria, and having learned there 
 would be one in ten minutes, she took a 
 ticket for that terminus, and then sat down 
 on one of the seats on the platform. 
 
 It was cold, raw, dull, rainless Feb- 
 ruary weather, and she was lightly clad, 
 but she did not mind that. Her thoughts 
 were turned inward, and she had but <a 
 dimly reflected idea of things surrounding 
 her.
 
 LIGHT AFTER DARKNESS. 87 
 
 When the train steamed into the 
 station, she rose in a quick but mechani- 
 cal way, and took her seat in an empty 
 compartment. Upon arriving at Victoria, 
 she left the train in the same quick, 
 mechanical way, got into a cab, and drove 
 to a house in Jermyn Street. Having 
 engaged a bed-room and sitting-room 
 here, she sat down at once and wrote a 
 letter. 
 
 As soon as the letter was finished she 
 left the house, dropped the letter into the 
 first post-pillar, and then ascended to the 
 middle section of Kegent Street. She 
 visited several shops, bought many things, 
 and ordered many more. When this was 
 done she paused, seemingly at a loss. 
 
 " My letter," she thought, " will not be 
 there until night. In the meantime, what 
 shall I do ? " She walked slowly down 
 Eegent Street. At last she started. 
 "How stupid," she thought, "I have
 
 88 TEMPEST - TOSSED, 
 
 been not to telegraph ! If I had tele- 
 graphed I could have had an answer in 
 an hour." 
 
 She hastened forward, asked a policeman 
 where the nearest telegraph office was, and 
 on arriving there despatched a message. 
 Then she went back to Jermyn Street, 
 and, laying aside her bonnet and mantle, 
 waited. 
 
 In an hour and a half a reply came. It 
 ran : 
 
 U I shall he with you almost as soon as 
 this" 
 
 When she read the message she got up 
 and walked about the room in a state of 
 great excitement. It was now dark, and 
 the gas had not yet been lighted in the 
 room. As she paced up and down she 
 wrung her hands and moaned. After a 
 while she became calmer, but still con-
 
 LIGHT AFTER DARKNESS. 89 
 
 tinued walking up and down. She had 
 eaten nothing that day, yet she felt no 
 want of food. In fact, when the servant, 
 upon her return, suggested that she had 
 better order dinner, she had refused to 
 do so with a shudder. She knew she 
 should need for the coming interview all 
 her strength, but she could not bear the 
 notion of food. She had not slept during 
 the whole night, yet she felt no want of 
 sleep. 
 
 "I feel," she thought, "as though my 
 sorrows were immortal, and that I shall 
 require earthly succour no more." 
 
 She had not long to wait in solitude. 
 A hansom drove up to the door, a man 
 jumped out, and in a few minutes he was 
 ushered into the room. He found her 
 still in the dark, leaning on the mantel- 
 shelf. 
 
 " Marion," , he said — " are you here, 
 Marion ? "
 
 90 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 " Yes," she answered, " I am here." 
 
 " I cannot see yon, it is so dark." 
 
 "It is very dark. It never has been 
 darker in all my life, and you know it." 
 
 "Will you not shake hands with me 
 and order lights ? " 
 
 " Neither. What is to be said can 
 best be said in the dark. It is in the 
 nature of darkness itself. Sit down. I 
 prefer to stand ; I wish you to sit. Sit 
 down." 
 
 His eyes were now becoming accustomed 
 to the obscurity. He found a chair, and 
 sat down. 
 
 "Are you alone V he asked, looking up 
 at where she stood, motionless, by the 
 mantelpiece. 
 
 " Absolutely" she answered, in a cold, 
 hard voice. "And you know it." 
 
 " How could I know it ? I got your 
 telegram, and came at once. Marion, you
 
 LIGHT AFTER DARKNESS. 91 
 
 are speaking to me in a tone I am unused 
 to from you." 
 
 " Ay," she said, u I am unused to my 
 own voice in its present tone. I am 
 risking much for you, and you do not 
 deserve that I should risk anything for 
 you." 
 
 " Marion," he cried, half-rising, " you 
 have not left him ? You have not resolved 
 to throw your fate in with mine at last ? 
 Marion, my darling ! Marion, let me come 
 to you." 
 
 " Stay where you are," she said, in a 
 tone of perplexity, and with a shudder. 
 " If you move from that chair, it must only 
 be for the door. Eemember this once for 
 all." 
 
 "You are very hard, Marion — very hard. 
 It is a long day since we met, and now 
 you will not even give me your hand. You 
 would give your hand to the most ordinary
 
 92 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 friend you have : think of what we were 
 once." 
 
 His voice had a firm, manly, straight- 
 forward ring in it, and withal an undertone 
 of passionate entreaty. 
 
 "I have thought too much of what 
 has been once. I have thought too much 
 of what was between you and me long 
 ago. I have another matter to think oi 
 to-night." 
 
 " And what is that, Marion ? " 
 
 " I have to think of last night." 
 
 He uttered a cry of surprise and half 
 rose from his chair. 
 
 "Did you know I was there? I thought 
 you were asleep. He said you were. Did 
 he tell you I was there?" 
 
 She paused a moment and made a 
 powerful effort to control herself. When 
 she spoke, her voice was unsteady, and 
 showed that a violent conflict was going 
 on in her breast.
 
 LIGHT AFTER DARKNESS. 93 
 
 " He told me nothing," she said. " I 
 have sent for you in order that you 
 may tell me all. Now go on. All, 
 remember." 
 
 "All?" he asked. "I would rather 
 not tell you all. I never told you a 
 lie yet." 
 
 "All," she said— "all, or go." 
 
 He shifted uneasily for a few minutes 
 on his chair, and then spoke : 
 
 "Well, Marion, since you will have it 
 all, you shall. I am no better than ever 
 I was. I leave it to you to say if I 
 could, being only human, be much worse. 
 You might have made a different man 
 of me once. You wouldn't. Let that 
 pass." 
 
 "Yes, let that pass, and let it pass 
 quickly. I did not sell you for a sum 
 of money." 
 
 Her voice was scornful. 
 
 "No, you did not. You did better*
 
 94 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 You sold yourself for a sum of money. 
 Shall we cry truce?" 
 
 "Yes; go on.*' 
 
 " I've been a good deal on the Conti- 
 nent. I've been doing a great many 
 things I should not do. Amongst others, 
 I have been gambling ; and, worst of all, 
 I have lost. There are many excuses for 
 a man gambling. There is no excuse for 
 a man losing. Well, I got cleaned out, 
 and I came home — I mean I went back 
 to Ireland. 
 
 "Naturally I faced south. Naturally I 
 went on to Waterford. Naturally I found 
 myself in Kilcash." 
 
 She made a gesture of dissent. But it 
 was too dark for him to see. She said : 
 "Most unwise and most unnatural." 
 
 "It may have been unwise, but it was 
 most natural. What can be more natural 
 than that a man should go where his
 
 LIGHT AFTER DARKNESS. 95 
 
 heart But if I say any more in 
 
 this strain, you will be angry ? " 
 
 "Most assuredly," 
 
 " Well, when I got to Kilcash, I kept 
 my ears open, and soon I heard that 
 you were about to leave Kilcash House 
 and take a house in or near London. I 
 inquired still further, found out the day 
 you were to leave, and got the address 
 of the house you had taken. I came on 
 to London. 
 
 "I arrived here the night before last. 
 I knew you could not be in your new 
 house until late in the day. I wanted 
 to call most particularly. There was 
 not an hour to be lost. It was neck or 
 nothing with me. I resolved to call at 
 Crescent House that very night, and 
 I did." 
 
 "You did?" she said, in a voice like a 
 terrified echo.
 
 96 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 "You knew I was there. He told 
 you ? " 
 
 "No; go on. Go on, I say. You did 
 not ask for me ? " 
 
 "No. I wanted to see him." 
 
 " It was close to eleven, or after it 
 then ? " 
 
 "After it." 
 
 " And you wanted to see him at such 
 an hour, and you knew he was an invalid ? " 
 she said, scornfully. 
 
 " I was an invalid myself." 
 
 " You ! What was the matter with 
 you ? " — again that tone of scorn. 
 
 "A worse disease than his — poverty." 
 
 " What ! " she cried, leaving the mantel- 
 piece, and going a step towards him in the 
 dark. " I thought you got the price of 
 your — of me before." 
 
 " Marion, you are unjust — cruelly unjust. 
 When I called on your husband last night, 
 it was not to beg or to try and get money
 
 LIGHT AFTER DARKNESS. 97 
 
 from him, because of anything in which you 
 or I ever took part. I had a claim with 
 which you have no connection, and the 
 nature of which I will not divulge to you. 
 He may if he likes." 
 
 "He never will," she said, with some- 
 thing between a laugh and a sob. 
 
 11 So be it. It may be all the better the 
 matter should never be spoken of. But 
 to proceed. I knocked and he let me in. 
 He explained that you were gone to bed, 
 and that he and you were alone in the 
 house. He was very polite, for he had an 
 idea of why I came — or rather of the card 
 of introduction, so to speak, that I brought 
 with me. He made me take a chair, told 
 me he was not well enough to lie down, as 
 he had one of his bad attacks of asthma,, 
 though by no means a very bad one, and 
 we had a pleasant general conversation for 
 half-an-hour or so." 
 
 "Pleasant conversation ! " she cried, fall- 
 
 VOL. I. II
 
 98 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 ing back to her old position at the chimney- 
 piece. 
 
 "Yes, I assure you it was quite a plea- 
 sant conversation. He told me all the 
 incidents of your journey over from Ire- 
 land, and I amused him with my experi- 
 ences on the Continent." 
 
 "This is too ghastly," she said. "Do 
 not tell me any more about it. Did he 
 give you — what you came for ? " 
 
 " Oh, yes, or part of it." 
 
 " And then ? " she asked, in a hard, con- 
 strained voice. 
 
 "And then after a few more words I 
 stood up and said good-bye, left the house, 
 and came back to town." 
 
 " Wait," she said. " I will give you 
 another chance. Sit where you are. I 
 shall be back in a few minutes." 
 
 " In the dark ? " he asked. 
 
 " Yes. Is there anything in the dark 
 that frightens you ? "
 
 LIGHT AFTER DARKNESS. 99 
 
 11 No," he answered ; "but it is stupid to 
 sit in the dark alone." 
 
 " Perhaps when I am gone you may not 
 be quite alone. You may have memories 
 for company." 
 
 There was great meaning in her voice. 
 
 He said merely " Perhaps," and she was 
 gone. 
 
 While she was away he sat perfectly 
 still. There was little or no light from 
 the dull low fire, and as the blinds were 
 down and curtains drawn, none reached 
 the room from the street. 
 
 In a few minutes he heard the door 
 open and some one enter. She came to her 
 old position by the chimney-piece and said : 
 
 " Now, if you can find a match, you may 
 light the gas." 
 
 He had wax cigar-lights in his pocket. 
 He struck one, and in a moment the gas 
 flared up. He looked at her, and cried, 
 starting back : 
 
 h 2
 
 100 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 " Merciful heavens, Marion, what mas- 
 querade is this ! " 
 
 "No masquerade/' she said calmly, 
 scrutinizing him. " These are my widow's 
 weeds come from the mourning ware- 
 house a few minutes ago. They say you 
 ought to be prepared to see me in 
 them." 
 
 " I — I ! — prepared to see you in widow's 
 weeds ! Is Davenport dead ? " 
 
 " Women whose husbands are living do 
 not wear such things as these. They say 
 you ought to be prepared to see me dressed 
 as I am now." 
 
 She touched the streamers of her cap and 
 pointed to the crape of her dress. 
 
 "What do you mean by saying they say 
 I ought to be prepared for this ? Who are 
 they f — and what do you mean ? " 
 
 "As I left the room a moment ago, 
 a servant brought me this note. Read 
 it"
 
 
 I 
 
 LIGHT AFTER DARKNESS. 101 
 
 He took the note and read it first 
 quickly, a second time slowly. Then, 
 letting it fall from his grasp, he threw 
 his hands above his head, and crying out, 
 " Oh, God ! " fell back on a chair.
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 mr. Davenport's account of the matter. 
 
 Shortly after Mrs. Davenport left Car- 
 lingford House, Half Moon Lane, that 
 afternoon, a supplementary luncheon was 
 announced, and the four men went into 
 the dining-room. 
 
 Mr. Paulton had already lunched with 
 the family, but he wished to be with the 
 others ; so he sat down at the table with 
 them, and broke a biscuit and half-filled 
 a glass with sherry. Jerry O'Brien and 
 Pringle were in no humour for trifling 
 with food ; they were both downright 
 hungry. Alfred ate mechanically, and was.
 
 MB. DAVENPORT'S ACCOUNT. 103 
 
 much pre-occupied. The talk, therefore, 
 for a quarter of an hour, was slight, frag- 
 mentary, as though by some agreement : 
 no one referred to what had just oc- 
 curred in the library, or to anything else 
 connected with Crescent House. Young 
 Pringle felt that although there must be 
 and are extremely interesting tragedies in 
 the world, luncheon, when one is hungry, 
 was a matter not to be neglected. He had 
 more than once in a criminal court eaten 
 sandwiches and drunk sherry in the interval 
 for luncheon, with the moral certainty that 
 his client, who had been temporarily re- 
 moved from the dock, would be sentenced 
 to death before the Court rose, and hanged 
 before that day four weeks, 
 
 Here were a cold rabbit pie, cold ham, 
 and excellent sherry, well-baked, fine white 
 bread, and nicknacks, and no particular 
 reason for hurry — no fear of hearing 
 " Silence " called out while one was but
 
 104 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 half-finished. The day was dull, but there 
 was an ample fire burning brightly in the 
 grate, the chair was soft and well-designed, 
 so why should he bother himself for another 
 quarter of an hour ? 
 
 It was very easy for him to hold his 
 tongue and to assure himself that he need 
 not bother himself just now about Mrs. 
 Davenport and her unpleasant predicament ; 
 but her predicament would not be banished, 
 and every now and then some incident of 
 either the drawing-room or library inter- 
 view would rush into his mind with all 
 the unexpected suddenness of that un- 
 welcome cry of " Silence ! " in the middle 
 of luncheon at a criminal trial. 
 
 Upon the whole, that luncheon was not 
 as calm or as successful as young Pringle 
 meant it to be. He had never seen any 
 one at all like Mrs. Davenport before, and 
 he could make little or nothing of her. 
 He now began to think that he had talked
 
 MB. DAVENPORT'S ACCOUNT. 105 
 
 "flippantly when he said she was certainly 
 about to leave the country. Keviewing all 
 he had seen and heard, he came to the 
 conclusion that the safest thing for him 
 to assume at present was — nothing. At 
 length he spoke, addressing Alfred and 
 Jerry O'Brien : 
 
 "Although Mrs. Davenport did not say 
 anything to the effect when leaving, I 
 suppose I had better act for her — until I 
 hear something to the contrary." 
 
 Jerry O'Brien glanced at Alfred, and saw 
 what he wished to say, but held back from 
 speaking, because of the trouble his hasty 
 action of the night before had brought 
 about. Therefore Jerry made himself 
 spokesman for his friend. 
 
 " Of course, Pringle, you go on acting 
 for her, on her behalf. She has left this 
 house finally now, and is not likely to cause 
 any new unpleasantness here. Whether 
 Mrs. Davenport is to blame or not, she
 
 106 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 can't be left alone and unaided in such a 
 strait as this. What do you say, Mr. 
 Paulton ? " 
 
 " I am quite of your opinion, O'Brien. 
 Now that she is out of the house I would 
 be disposed to do anything I could for her. 
 It's different now from what it was an 
 hour ago. Go on, Mr. Pringle ; and I 
 most siucerely hope she may come out 
 of the inquiry without the shadow of 
 blame." 
 
 " I sincerely hope so," said Pringle, 
 rising. Luncheon was over by this time. 
 " Now, the first thing I should like, is 
 to have a look at the place — at this Crescent 
 House, as you call it." 
 
 Alfred and O'Brien got up, and in a 
 few minutes the three found themselves 
 in the hall of that house. The police were 
 already there. 
 
 Pringle told the officers who he was and 
 then proceeded to make inquiries. The-
 
 MR, DAVENPORT'S ACCOUNT. 107" 
 
 following was the state of affairs at that 
 time : 
 
 The inspector had been there about an 
 hour. He had made an elaborate, but 
 not exhaustive search in the room. The 
 body was in the position it had been found 
 in. An empty two-ounce bottle had been 
 discovered on the floor. This was the 
 bottle. It was labelled chloroform, smelt 
 of chloroform, and had no cork in it. A 
 cork which fitted it, and which also smelt, 
 although faintly, of chloroform, had been 
 found on the table close by the body. 
 
 In the pockets of the deceased had been 
 discovered a number of letters, a small sum 
 of money, and a pocket-book. This was 
 the pocket-book. It was thin, and covered 
 with Eussia leather; it was old, and had 
 been but little used. It contained several 
 addresses, and on the first leaf was written 
 a date of eleven years ago. It was more- 
 than likely this date corresponded with
 
 108 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 that on which the book became the pro- 
 perty of deceased. 
 
 Most of the memoranda in that book 
 could have no bearing on the present case, 
 as most of them had evidently been made 
 long ago. The last entry but one was 
 dated in what was believed to be the hand- 
 writing of the deceased. It was made more 
 than two years ago. After this last entry 
 but one, a leaf was missing. A leaf had 
 evidently been torn out — and clumsily torn 
 out, too — for a jagged portion of the leaf 
 remained behind. 
 
 Then came the last entry of aM. This 
 was also apparently in the handwriting of 
 deceased. The writing was in pencil, and 
 very shaky, and for a long time could not 
 be deciphered. It was headed " Crescent 
 House." The domicile fixed the date, for 
 the night before was the only occasion on 
 which Mr. Davenport crossed the threshold 
 of that house. He had not even seen the
 
 MB. DAYENPOBT'S ACCOUNT. 109 
 
 house before renting it, but took it on the 
 representation of an agent. The words on 
 this page were : 
 
 "Pretended death. Blake gone. He 
 emptied chloroform on me — held me down. 
 Can't stir. Dying." 
 
 After reading this the three men stood 
 aghast for a while. They looked at one 
 another. They looked at the inspector. 
 The inspector shook his head. 
 
 " There's hangman's work here," he said ; 
 and he was about to turn away, when a 
 sudden thought struck Pringle. He said 
 to the inspector : 
 
 " I beg your pardon. Does that pocket- 
 book contain any London address of Mr. 
 Davenport ? " 
 
 " I don't know," said the inspector ; 
 " and I am afraid I have already shown 
 you too much."
 
 110 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 "I'd be very much obliged to you if 
 you'd see. I represent Mrs. Davenport in 
 this matter, and at the moment I don't 
 know where to find her. She omitted to 
 give me her address when she left me 
 this afternoon. I want to write to her, 
 and if you find any London address of Mr. 
 Davenport, I'll chance directing my letter 
 there. That can do no harm to any one.' 7 
 
 The inspector hesitated, but at length 
 opened the pocket-book, and after a search, 
 said : 
 
 " There's an address here at Jermyn 
 Street ; but it's six years old." 
 
 " Never mind," said Pringle ; " I'll risk 
 it. What is it?" 
 
 The inspector read it out, and Pringle 
 took it down. 
 
 Pringle, Alfred Paulton, and Jerry 
 O'Brien were about to leave the room, 
 when the first turned to the inspector, 
 and said :
 
 MB. DAVENPORT'S ACCOUNT. Ill 
 
 " By- the- way, you did not find the page 
 that has been torn out of the pocket- 
 book ? " 
 
 "No," said the inspector, nodding his 
 head significantly ; " but there's evidence 
 enough on what we did find to hang a 
 score of men." 
 
 The three then walked to Heme Hill 
 railway station, and took tickets for 
 Ludgate. At the latter place Pringle 
 left the two friends and went back to 
 his office. 
 
 Here he sat down and wrote the 
 following letter : 
 
 " Lincoln's Inn Fields, E.C. 
 "Feb. — , 18—. 
 
 ' 'Dear Madam, 
 
 "By accident I got this address, 
 and will chance writing you here in the 
 hope this note may reach you. 
 
 " I have been to Crescent House. A
 
 112 TEMPEST- TOSSED. , 
 
 pocket-book of the late Mr. Davenport 
 has been found. It contains the following 
 entry in the handwriting of deceased : 
 'Pretended death. Blake gone. He 
 emptied the chloroform on me — held me 
 down. Can't stir. Dying/ 
 
 "Awaiting your further instructions, 
 "I am, dear Madam, 
 
 " Yours faithfully, 
 
 " ElCHARD PRINGLE." 
 
 This was the note which Mrs. Davenport 
 handed Thomas Blake as she stood over 
 him in her fresh widow's weeds the night 
 after her husband's death.
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 "WHICH of us is mad?" 
 
 The morning after the interview between 
 Mrs. Davenport and Tom Blake in Jermyn 
 Street, there were paragraphs about Mr. 
 Davenport's death in the daily papers. 
 These paragraphs were almost colourless, 
 and barely suggested any cause for un- 
 easiness. They all wound up by saying 
 that the inquest would be held next 
 day. 
 
 That afternoon Richard Pringle called 
 on chance at the house in Jermyn Street, 
 and found Mrs. Davenport at home. 
 She received him in a dreamy, half- 
 
 VOL I I
 
 1 1 4 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 conscious way, and answered listlessly 
 the common-place questions he put to 
 her. Before seeing her he had made up 
 his mind not to refer to the scene which 
 had taken place between them yesterday. 
 He was firmly convinced she would not 
 give him her full confidence, and that 
 to seek to get at the bottom of the 
 affair would be only to court obstruction. 
 From her manner he assumed she wished 
 nothing to be said of what had taken place 
 in the Paultons' drawing-room at Dulwich. 
 He began by trying to prepare her for 
 the inquest. She shuddered slightly when 
 he used that word, and yet seemed but in- 
 differently alive to the importance of the 
 situation. She answered in monosyllables, 
 and contented herself mostly with merely 
 bowing her head in token that she attended 
 to what he said. 
 
 No material advantage could be gained 
 by speaking of the former interview
 
 "WHICH OF US IS MAD?" 115 
 
 between them. He had drawn his own 
 conclusions from it, and it was abundantly 
 clear to him she wished that interview 
 ignored. Now that he was once more 
 under the spell of her presence, he felt 
 his interest in her case rekindle, and 
 the charm of her beauty reasserting 
 itself. 
 
 One thing, however, must be spoken 
 of. It was absolutely necessary he should 
 say something of the note he had written 
 her last evening. He waited for a pause, 
 or rather caused a pause in the conversa- 
 tion, for she volunteered nothing. 
 
 "Having found this Jermyn Street 
 address in the pocket - book of Mr. 
 Davenport, I sent a few lines to 
 you yesterday evening in the hope 
 they might reach you. Did you get 
 them ? " 
 
 This question seemed to arouse her 
 
 attention. She clasped her hands in her 
 
 i 2
 
 1 1 6 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 lap, and, turning her face fully towards 
 him, answered : 
 
 " Yes ; I got your note and the extract 
 from the pocket-book also." 
 
 She seemed perfectly cool and collected. 
 
 " It would be well if you would tell 
 me anything you know about that entry 
 on the leaf of the pocket-book. It has 
 a terrible significance in the case." 
 
 Her calmness now astonished him. He 
 had the evening before been prepared for 
 an explosion. He had expected to find 
 her completely broken down, or in a state 
 of high nervous excitement to-day. Up 
 to this she had been listless ; now she 
 was attentive and mute. Her face looked 
 paler than yesterday, but he could not 
 say whether this was owing to its own 
 loss of colour or to the effect of the 
 white cap or the crape round her throat. 
 He waited a moment with a view to
 
 "WHICH OF VS IS MAD?" 117 
 
 giving weight to his next question. It 
 was : 
 
 " With regard to the memorandum made 
 by Mr. Davenport, is there anything you 
 would like to say to me ? In the face 
 of that memorandum, you of course know 
 that Mr. Blake's presence will be essential 
 at the— inquiry." 
 
 " I suppose so," she said, unmoved. 
 She replied to the latter part of his 
 speech first. " With regard to the entry 
 in his pocket-book, it is right you should 
 know that my late husband was at one 
 time subject to hallucinations, delusions." 
 
 " And you think this writing of his 
 may have been the result of a delusion 
 or hallucination ? " 
 
 " It is quite possible ; I can explain it 
 in no other way." 
 
 "Oh, this is a great relief! I did not 
 know he was subject to hallucinations.
 
 118 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 This is a most important fact. "What 
 was the nature of the delusion under 
 which he suffered ? " 
 
 Up to this point Pringle had felt in 
 despair. Now his interest and courage 
 rose. 
 
 " He fancied people had formed a con- 
 spiracy against him, and that their design 
 was to rob him first and then murder him." 
 
 Her enunciation was particularly distinct, 
 her face impassible. 
 
 " This is most vital," he said. " Indeed 
 it may explain much that now sorely needs 
 explanation. You no doubt often had the 
 opportunity of seeing him labouring under 
 these ailments ?" 
 
 " No — never. He has not had an attack 
 since we were married." 
 
 "Well, we must only do the best we 
 can. Do you know if there is anything 
 like insanity in his family ? " 
 
 Pringle felt no little disappointment that
 
 "WHICH OF US 18 MAD?" 119 
 
 she could not personally testify to the 
 disease ; but he was resolved to make the 
 most of it. 
 
 " I am not aware that there is anything 
 which could be called insanity in the 
 family. His brother is decidedly odd, and 
 Mr. Davenport was odd at times. For 
 instance, as I told you, he would never 
 bring old servants into a new house. 
 There were other little traits — some 
 theories he had about betting on horses, 
 and which I do not understand, but which 
 I have been told were at least fanciful." 
 
 Pringle's curiosity was aroused. Outside 
 his profession the thing in which he took 
 most interest was horse-racing. 
 
 " I am not sure that it can be of any 
 consequence ; but if you could remember 
 it, I should like to know what that 
 peculiarity in betting was." 
 
 " I am not quite sure," she said ; " but 
 I have an indistinct recollection he made
 
 120 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 it a rule never to bet on any horse the 
 name of which began with a letter lower 
 down in the alphabet than ' N.' ' 
 
 " Ah ! " said the young solicitor, in a 
 tone of surprise and reflection. He 
 resolved to look this matter up when he 
 got back to the office. He was still 
 curious. "And may I ask if you know 
 whether he found the system a good one ? 
 If he found it to fail oftener than to 
 succeed, and still kept to it, one might 
 put the persistency down to mental 
 obliquity." 
 
 Although he said this in a confident tone, 
 the words were no sooner uttered than 
 he began to doubt their justice, for he had 
 known many men who adhered to a system 
 which had nine times out of ten betrayed 
 them. 
 
 " I cannot tell you. I do not know/' 
 
 "If he betted heavily, you would have 
 been likely to hear whether he won or
 
 " WHICH OF US IS MAD?" 121 
 
 lost. Of course when I say heavily, I 
 don't mean that he ran any danger of 
 crippling himself. But he must have been 
 elated when he won and dejected when 
 he lost?" 
 
 " Xo. He did not bet heavily. He 
 never seemed to care whether he won or 
 lost. It was the system which he prized, 
 and not the wager." 
 
 Youug Pringle thought this was a sure 
 sign of a disordered mind ; but he kept 
 the opinion to himself, as he considered it 
 more a matter of private than professional 
 interest. He said : 
 
 " I suppose Mr. Davenport could not 
 have been in financial embarrassment 
 owing to any betting transactions ? " 
 
 " I am certain he was not." 
 
 "Or from any other cause?" 
 
 " I am sure he was not." 
 
 " This may be of the greatest value. I 
 beg of you to believe I am asking this.
 
 122 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 question solely with a view to your 
 interest." 
 
 He paused and looked earnestly at her 
 for permission to go on. 
 
 She bowed. 
 
 "Have you any reason to think that 
 the unfortunate event which has occurred 
 might have been brought about by his 
 own act ? " 
 
 She moved her hands nervously in her 
 lap. 
 
 "I am not sure that I understand you." 
 
 " There is nothing in your mind which 
 could lead you to suppose he has committed 
 suicide ? " 
 
 She shuddered visibly and answered in 
 a constrained whisper : 
 
 "Nothing — nothing whatever." 
 
 " Well, Mrs. Davenport, it will be abso- 
 lutely necessary for us, in the face of the 
 memorandum made on the leaf of his 
 pocket - book, to have some theory of
 
 " WHICH OF US IS MAD?" 123 
 
 what took place. Can you suggest any 
 theory ?" 
 
 He spoke gravely, impressively. His 
 personal interest in her was again grow- 
 ing stronger than his professional interest 
 in what he now regarded as her defence. 
 He swore to himself that he would use not 
 only all his skill as an advocate, but all 
 his faculties as a man to extricate this 
 beautiful woman from the horrible posi- 
 tion in which he found her, and to assuage 
 as much as might be the pains she would 
 have to endure. Under the overwhelming 
 spell of her rich comeliness, and in front 
 of the evidence afforded by her presence 
 here this afternoon, he reproached himself 
 bitterly for the suspicion he had uttered 
 the day before as to her fleeing from the 
 country. It was brutal of him to think 
 of such a thing then, and still more brutal 
 •of him to speak his thoughts. 
 
 She did not reply to his last question at
 
 124 TEMPJjJSl - TOSSED. 
 
 once. She looked at him steadily, without 
 flinching, but remained silent. 
 
 He spoke again, this time earnestly, 
 almost passionately : 
 
 " Mrs. Davenport, if you give me any 
 theory to go on, I promise you, upon my 
 word of honour as a man, to make the 
 most I can of it. I'll leave no stone un- 
 turned to put things in their best light. 
 I'll work without ceasing ; I'll do nothing 
 else, think of nothing else until I see you 
 through this ordeal. I will not ask you 
 again for any confidence you wish to^ 
 withhold from me. But if out of justice 
 to yourself you will not, out of justice to 
 me you must give me something to go on. 
 You must give me at least a theory." 
 
 He spoke to her eagerly, fiercely, and 
 held out his hands towards her in suppli- 
 cation. 
 
 She dropped her eyes a moment as if
 
 "WHICH OF US IS MAD?" 125 
 
 to collect her thoughts, and then looking 
 straight into his face once more, said with a 
 slight tremor in her voice : 
 
 " I have a theory ; but I am afraid 
 it is not one that will meet with your 
 approval." 
 
 "If it is the best you can give me, 
 trust me to do the best that can be done 
 with it. But, for heaven's sake, give me 
 the best one you can. Give me a chance. 
 All I want is a chance to show you my 
 devotion — to your interests." 
 
 He felt he was being carried away by 
 the irresistible magic of her eyes. He 
 paused after the w T ord " devotion," and 
 spoke the final phrase of his speech in a 
 less ferveut tone, to modify by matter and 
 manner what had gone before. 
 
 " There is," she said, unclasping and 
 then clasping her hands again, " but one 
 theory possible in the case. As I told
 
 126 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 you a moment ago, Mr. Davenport was 
 at one period of his life subject to de- 
 lusions " 
 
 " Pardon me," interrupted Pringle ; "you 
 said awhile ago that you had no experience 
 of your own as to this infirmity. I assume 
 we shall be able to produce evidence to 
 prove that ? " 
 
 " Undoubtedly there will be evidence." 
 
 "May I ask from whom we are to expect 
 this evidence ? Mr. Davenport's brother ? 
 He knows all about it, I suppose ? " 
 
 " No, not Mr. Davenport's brother. I 
 am not sure that Mr. Edward Davenport 
 ever knew anything about it." 
 
 " That is unfortunate, since, so far as 
 I understand, Mr. Edward Davenport is 
 the late Mr. Davenport's only surviving 
 relative." 
 
 "He is. But at the time when Mr. 
 Davenport had those seizures he was. 
 abroad, on the Continent. For many years
 
 "WHICH OF US IS MAD?" 127 
 
 of his life Mr. Davenport did not live in 
 the United Kingdoms. When I first knew 
 him he had just come home after travelling 
 for a long time in America and Europe. 
 Although I am not quite sure, I think up 
 to a very short time before I met him 
 he had been out of the country most of 
 his life. He was not very communicative 
 about the past, or indeed on any subject. 
 It was while he was staying for a time 
 in Florence he had these attacks of 
 hallucination — " 
 
 " And the evidence we can command is 
 that of an eye-witness ? " broke in Pringle. 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 " The inquest will be to-morrow. May 
 I not have the name of the witness ? 
 There is no time to be lost. In fact, this 
 evidence, this extremely important evi- 
 dence, comes very late. I am sorry I did 
 not hear of it before. But we must do 
 the best we can with it." >
 
 128 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 He spoke in a voice of deep concern. 
 
 " There was a reason why you did not 
 hear of this evidence earlier. You asked 
 me to give you my theory, Had I not 
 better do so before going into other 
 matters ? " 
 
 She raised her clasped hands slightly 
 from her lap in faint protest. 
 
 "I beg your pardon for interrupting 
 you. By all means let me have the theory 
 first. My anxiety betrayed me into ask- 
 ing questions which ought to have been 
 deferred." 
 
 He was filled with admiration of this 
 woman who could keep so closely to the 
 point, and with shame for himself for his 
 unthrifty straying from .it. 
 
 "As you are no doubt aware, chloroform 
 affects different people in different ways. 
 A little of it will kill some people ; a large 
 quantity will scarcely affect others. Many 
 under its influence become delirious nnd 
 
 *
 
 "WHICH OF US IS MAD?" 129 
 
 rave. At certain periods, while under the 
 power of chloroform, one may be relieved 
 of pain, conscious of surrounding things, 
 capable of moving, and yet delirious. The 
 theory I would suggest is that Mr. Daven- 
 port inhaled some chloroform to ease a 
 spasm of asthma, that he became delirious, 
 that he had a return of his old hallucina- 
 tion, then wrote what was found on the 
 leaf torn from the book, and while en- 
 deavouring to administer a second dose to 
 himself, spilled the contents of the bottle 
 over his beard and chest." 
 
 Her words came in as calm and measured 
 a way as though she were speaking on an 
 abstract subject to an indifferent audience. 
 
 As she went on, Pringle's admiration 
 gave way to amazement. A scientific wit- 
 ness could not be more unmoved. Was 
 it possible this superb woman opposite him 
 had been explaining to him in these cold, 
 measured accents her way of accounting for 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 1 30 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 the death of a husband who had been alive 
 and without any immediate danger of death 
 a couple of days ago, and who had since 
 died a death which was, to say the least 
 of it, provocative of inquiry ? 
 
 He leaned back in his chair, sighed 
 thoughtfully, and knit his brows. He 
 cleared his throat once or twice to speak, 
 but remained silent. He felt dull and 
 heavy, as though something oppressed his 
 chest. 
 
 " That is my theory — the only possible 
 theory," she said, leaning forward and 
 looking quietly into his face, without any 
 change in the expression of her own. 
 
 He shook himself slightly, looked per- 
 plexed, not satisfied. At last he spoke : 
 
 " And what evidence have we in support 
 of this supposition ? " 
 
 She leaned back in her chair and whis- 
 pered, "None." 
 
 He started, sat up, and looked at her
 
 " WEIGH OF US 18 MAD?" 1 131 
 
 keenly. He drew down his brows over his 
 eyes as though the light hurt him. 
 
 "I am afraid," said he, "such a theory 
 would not stand without most substantial 
 testimony. No jury would give a satis- 
 factory verdict on a mere statement such 
 as that, for, you see, there are the last 
 words written by the deceased. 5 ' Until 
 this moment he had not used that cold, 
 formless word " deceased" to her. But 
 he felt now that he was regarding the 
 matter in a purely professional way, and 
 that so was she. In a moment he con- 
 tinued, laying impressively significant 
 emphasis on his words : " How are we 
 to explain the fact of Mr. Blake's name 
 appearing on that piece of paper ? " 
 
 "Mr. Blake," she said, half-closing 
 her eyes as though she was weary, " was 
 the last person he saw before his death, 
 and, when the delirium came upon him, 
 he naturally introduced the name of Mr» 
 
 k 2
 
 132 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 Blake as being that of the person most 
 immediate to his memory." 
 
 " What ! " cried Pringle, starting up 
 off his chair and leaning towards her, 
 "Do we admit he was there ? " 
 
 He could scarcely contain himself for 
 astonishment. He looked at her as 
 though he expected to find her trans- 
 formed into the person of Blake him- 
 self. 
 
 "Undoubtedly," she said, opening her 
 eyes slowly and looking up at him. 
 " Mr. Blake was there a little while be- 
 fore Mr. Davenport died." 
 
 Pringle groaned, ran his fingers ex- 
 citedly through his hair, and began pacing 
 the room up and down hastily. 
 
 After a dozen turns, he stopped in front 
 of her chair. 
 
 "When did you learn that your late 
 husband had had hallucinations ? " 
 
 "Last night."
 
 "WHICH OF US IS MAD?' 133 
 
 "Last night only! Who told you?" 
 
 "Mr. Blake." 
 
 " Mr. Blake !— Mr. Blake ! And who saw 
 your husband when he was suffering from 
 these hallucinations ? " 
 
 "Mr. Blake." 
 
 "And is he the witness we have as to 
 the hallucinations ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Merciful heavens ! Which of us is 
 mad? Where did you meet this Blake?" 
 
 "I wrote to him to come here, and he 
 came." 
 
 " You ivrote him to come here ! Heaven 
 help you — heaven help you ! It is you who 
 are mad." 
 
 And he hastened out of the room.
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE ELDER PEINGLE SPEAKS. 
 
 "When Bichard Pringle reached the street, 
 he set off at a rapid walk for Lincoln's 
 Inn Fields. His thoughts and feelings 
 were too much disturbed for reasoning. 
 The dialogue of the past hour hurried 
 through his brain in an incoherent, in- 
 consequential mass. In the intense ex- 
 citement of the last few minutes, he 
 had told her she was mad, and he 
 almost believed it. He had known from 
 the previous day that Blake had been 
 at Crescent House on the night of 
 Mr. Davenport's death. He had most
 
 THE ELDER PRINGLE SPEAKS. 135 
 
 •plainly, most impressively given . her to 
 understand that he knew it. She must 
 have seen plainly then he attached most 
 disastrous importance to that visit of her 
 former lover. Since then the leaf torn 
 out of the pocket-book had been disco- 
 vered. On that leaf appeared a deliberate 
 accusation of murder in the handwriting 
 of the dead man against Blake. That, 
 in all reason, was sufficiently serious ; 
 but worse followed. She had the day 
 after her husband's death asked this 
 man Blake to visit her ! 
 
 From Blake she had, Pringle felt not 
 the least doubt, adopted that elaborate 
 and childish theory of the fatal event. 
 Blake had told her in that interview a 
 thing neither she nor his brother had 
 
 o 
 
 ever known before — namely, that the 
 deceased man had at one time, and 
 to Blake's personal knowledge, suffered 
 from mental aberration of a kind which
 
 136 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 would exactly explain away that dam- 
 natory writing on the paper — if any one 
 could believe Blake's story ! The whole 
 affair was simply monstrous. If he viewed 
 the matter from a purely professional point 
 of view, he would have been heartily sorry 
 he ever connected himself with it. But he 
 could not regard the case solely as a matter 
 between client and solicitor. He was under 
 the spell of this woman, and he could not, 
 if he would, and he would not if he could, 
 escape. Only one thing was clear to his 
 mind now, and that took the form of 
 muttered words : 
 
 " There will be business for the hangman 
 in this affair.''' 
 
 When he arrived at the office lie found 
 his father in, and having locked the door 
 of the private room, he communicated to 
 the old man the substance of the inter- 
 view which had just been brought 'to a 
 close.
 
 THE ELDER PIUNGLE SPEAKS. 137 
 
 His father listened to the recital with 
 the most circumstantial patience. When 
 the son had finished his tale, and wound 
 up with the opinion that some one was 
 going to swing for the matter, the father, 
 to the son's unspeakable astonishment,, 
 looked up cheerfully, and said : 
 
 "lam not at all sure of that, Dick — not 
 at all." 
 
 " Bless my soul, father, where do you 
 see the way out of it ? " 
 
 " I can't say," said the elder man, " that 
 I see my way out of it; but I am sure 
 they do. Just run over the facts briefly : 
 This woman was formerly in love with 
 Blake ; Blake is bought off by old Daven- 
 port, and Davenport marries the beauty. 
 After years, the married couple come to 
 London, and put up by themselves in a 
 detached house. That night the old lover 
 visits the house, and shortly after he leaves, 
 the wife raises an alarm, and the husband
 
 1 38 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 is found dead. The doctor called in is 
 not fully satisfied, and hints that the man 
 has been killed by chloroform — a drug 
 frequently used by deceased. The widow 
 finds shelter in a neighbour's house. While 
 there, she is given to understand by her 
 attorney that it is supposed her old lover 
 was in the house within a short time of 
 the death, and that death is believed to 
 have arisen from choloroform, not asthma. 
 Upon this she displays great emotion, and 
 declines to give any further information. 
 She leaves the neighbour's house that 
 afternoon, and goes to a house in which 
 she stayed about six years ago when in 
 London with her husband. From that 
 house she sends for her old lover, and 
 has an interview with him. Meantime a 
 document is found in the handwriting of 
 deceased, saying her old lover has poisoned 
 him (deceased). Her solicitor sends a 
 copy of this document to her. Next day
 
 THE ELDER PEINGLE SPEAKS. 139 
 
 solicitor calls upon her, and finds her quite 
 calm. She explains her theory of her hus- 
 band's death, and attributes the document 
 mentioned to hallucination, from which she 
 alleges deceased suffered earlier in life, and 
 that death was the result of accidentally 
 spilling the chloroform by deceased. That's 
 the case, as far as I can make it out. Am 
 I right, Dick ? " 
 
 "Yes, sir — quite right." 
 
 " At the first glance it's a strong case." 
 
 "Did you ever, short of eye-witnesses, 
 see a stronger ? " 
 
 " I've seen a lot of cases in my time — 
 a lot of cases. Wait a bit, Dick, until we 
 have another look at it. A motive lies on 
 the very surface ; nothing could be plainer 
 than the motive implied by the case. It 
 is : the old lover poisons the husband in 
 order that the woman may be free to marry 
 him. A money motive may turn up later 
 on ; if we may find that the widow is
 
 140 . TEMPEST -TOSSED. 
 
 rich. Dick, I am getting to be an old man 
 now, and I give you one piece of advice , 
 lest I may forget it : Always suspect a. 
 case where the motive is glaringly obvious. 
 Now, the two survivors in this affair are 
 people of good education, good position 
 and intelligence, are they not ? " 
 
 " Most assuredly, sir." 
 
 " Neither of the two is an idiot ? " 
 
 " I am greatly afraid, father, that the 
 lady's reason is affected." 
 
 ' 'Observe, Dick, I did not ask you 
 whether both are sane or mad. But is 
 either of them an idiot — a drivelling 
 idiot — whom you would not leave alone 
 in a room where there was a fire or a 
 razor ? " 
 
 " No, no ! They are both, as far as I 
 know — I never saw him — rational on the 
 surface, anyway. But I fear the strain 
 has been too much for Mrs. Davenport." 
 
 "Never mind about that. She may for
 
 THE ELDER PRINGLE SPEAKS. 141 
 
 my purpose be as mad as she likes, so long 
 as she is not a drivelling idiot. Now, 
 supposing either of them had committed 
 the crime of murder in this case, do you 
 suppose that until drivelling idiocy had 
 been fully established in one or the other, 
 either of them would behave in such a 
 childish way as you describe ? Why, it 
 would shame any Bedlamite in Europe for 
 rank silliness ! The man who tried to 
 cool a red-hot poker in a barrel of 
 gunpowder would be only a little rash 
 compared with either of these two, if, as 
 you seem to suppose, either is responsible 
 for the dead man's death." 
 
 The younger man's face brightened. 
 
 " Then you think, sir, there is still good 
 reason to hope ? " 
 
 " I am sure there is no reason to do any- 
 thing else. This Mrs. Davenport, at your 
 first interview, trusts you fully up to a
 
 142 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 certain point, and then suddenly refuses 
 to give you any more confidence. At your 
 second interview she gives you all, and 
 more than all, the confidence you require. 
 What has wrought that change ? She has 
 seen the old lover. She is acting upon 
 his advice. She has given you a great 
 deal of confidence, but she has not told 
 you everything. She is keeping back the 
 most important piece of all." 
 
 " What is that ? " 
 
 "The line of his and her defence. He 
 will, of course, be professionally represented 
 at the inquest. There will be some one there 
 for him, anyhow. I am firmly convinced 
 he has an unanswerable and startling 
 defence. If I were you I should take 
 every precaution I could for the protection 
 of my client ; but I feel fully assured he 
 will clear up the whole case. Now run 
 away. I've got in another batch of those
 
 TEE ELDER PBINGLE SPEAKS. 143 
 
 MilliDoton deeds, and I want to get 
 through them by dinner-time. Will you 
 be home to dinner ? " 
 
 " I don't thiuk so, sir. I'll run out 
 to Dulwich and see if there is anything 
 new. 
 
 When young Pringle found himself at 
 Dulwich he went to Carlingford House ; 
 for he knew that the folk there, especially 
 Alfred, would be anxious to hear the 
 news, and this analysis of the case by his 
 father had put him in good heart. 
 
 The day was fine and mild for the 
 season. As he entered the garden of 
 Carlingford House, he saw, through a 
 tall wicket gateway, two elderly men 
 walking in the grounds at the rear. One 
 of these he recognised as Mr. Paulton ; 
 the other was a stranger to him. 
 
 He passed through the wicket gateway 
 into the back garden. Just as he did so 
 the two men faced fully round, and Mr.
 
 1 44 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 Paulton cried out, as lie hastened towards 
 the solicitor : 
 
 " Mr. Pringle, you are the very man 
 we want. We were this minute talking of 
 you. Mr. Davenport, this is Mr. Pringle, 
 who has kindly consented, at our request, 
 to act in this unhappy affair as solicitor 
 for Mrs. Davenport." 
 
 " Sir," said the dead man's brother, 
 bowing low, " I am very glad to make 
 your acquaintance. I hope you find 
 yourself in the enjoyment of good 
 health." 
 
 "I am quite well, thank you," said 
 Pringle, somewhat taken aback by the 
 old-fashioned formality of the other. 
 
 The man who stood in front of him 
 was a square-made, thick-set, low- sized 
 man of close on sixty years of age. His 
 hair was black and long and lank, pro- 
 fusely oiled, and hung down on the collar 
 of his coat and shoulders. He did not
 
 TEE ELDER PRINGLE SPEAKS. 145 
 
 wear beard, whiskers, or moustaches. His 
 complexion was a lifeless sallow; his skin 
 wrinkled, his nose aquiline, and narrow at 
 the top ; his mouth weak and uncertain, 
 with thin, bloodless lips ; his gait half- 
 mincing, half-pompous ; his voice half- 
 suave, half- raucous. His eyes were large 
 and prominent, and of a filmy, hazel colour. 
 As Pringle looked at the new-comer, he 
 thought : " If he weren't so broad, he'd 
 look like a dyspeptic mummy/' 
 
 " I have just finished telling Mr, 
 Davenport all I heard about this sad 
 affair, and I suppose you, Mr. Pringle, 
 can now add something to where I left 
 off? Mr. Davenport is most anxious to 
 know everything." 
 
 Young Pringle had then for the second 
 time to go over the main features of what 
 had taken place since he was at Dulwich 
 last. Of course he was much more 
 reticent than he had been with his father, 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 and repeated nothing of what had passed 
 between Mrs. Davenport and himself. It 
 was Jerry O'Brien who had first intro- 
 duced Blake's name into the case. Mr. 
 Paulton had told Mr. Davenport all he 
 knew, without adopting the precaution of 
 finding out how the brother of the dead 
 man felt towards the widow. 
 
 Pringle had therefore no hesitation in 
 saying that he had seen Mrs. Davenport, 
 and that she, of course, would be present 
 at the inquest to-morrow. He also said 
 he had heard Thomas Blake would be 
 present. He told Mr. Davenport that if 
 he wished to call upon the widow, her 
 address was at his disposal. 
 
 Mr. Davenport drew himself up hur- 
 riedly, and looking furiously at Pringle 
 from head to foot, as though the solicitor 
 was the cause of all the misfortunes, cried, 
 while his lips, hands, and legs were 
 trembling :
 
 TEE ELDER PRINGLE SPEAKS. 147 
 
 "1 — / go near her! Are you mad, 
 young sir ? Have you taken leave of 
 your senses, or are you jeering at me ? 
 I go near my brother's murderess ! Do 
 you take me for a conspirator too ? Do 
 you think I am another Blake ? I pity 
 you, sir. An attorney, quotha ! A man 
 of your trade ought to have some little 
 discrimination. You are for her, young 
 sir ! Look you : If justice can be had on 
 this earth, by any and all means in my 
 power these two shall hang side by side 
 on the same gibbet, and keep the company 
 of each other on the road to hell, and in 
 hell everlastingly ; " and, foaming at the 
 mouth, he dashed away from the astonished 
 pair and rushed into the house. 
 
 The inquest was to be held next day at 
 noon. 
 
 L 2
 
 a 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 MRS. DAVENPORT WAS CALLED. 
 
 The remainder of that afternoon and the 
 early part of next day were devoted by 
 young Pringle to arranging details for 
 the inquest. He would have attached but 
 little importance to the wild words and 
 manner of Mr. Edward Davenport if there 
 had not been other very strong elements, 
 of suspicion in the case. There was matter 
 for more than grave suspicion — there was 
 matter for absolute alarm. The theory 
 for the defence set up by Mrs. Davenport 
 was puerile in the extreme, and yet he 
 could not make any other fit in with the
 
 "MBS. DAVENPORT WAS CALLED." 149 
 
 admitted facts of the case. Upon de- 
 liberate consideration, he thought less of 
 his father's exposition than he had at first. 
 His father might be right, but his father's 
 conviction went no further than a sup- 
 posititious negative. In logic one could 
 not prove a negative ; in law there was 
 no prohibition. An overwhelming alibi 
 would insure an acquittal, but an alibi 
 was impossible in this case ; and by what 
 other means was it possible to establish a 
 negative ? 
 
 He was anxious to ascertain one thing : 
 Would Blake be arrested before or during 
 the inquest ? He made inquiries, and 
 found that, although Blake's address was 
 known and detectives were watching him, 
 no arrest would be made before the coroner 
 had taken some evidence. Pringle had 
 no interest in Blake beyond the extent to 
 which he affected Mrs. Davenport's case. 
 But that was a great deal. If Blake's
 
 150 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 mouth were shut, Mrs. Davenport's defence 
 would, he thought, be simpler. 
 
 The day of the inquest Pringle went 
 to Jermyn Street, and took Mrs, Daven- 
 port to Dulwich. She was taciturn the 
 whole way, and said she had nothing 
 to add to what she had communicated 
 yesterday. She hardly spoke a word 
 the whole way from Jermyn Street to 
 Heme Hill. Pringle's spirits became more 
 depressed as they journeyed together, 
 but he had made up his mind to fight 
 the case out to the last. 
 
 The inquest was to be held at the 
 "Wolfdog Inn," and when Pringle and 
 Mrs, Davenport arrived there, a large 
 crowd had already assembled, although 
 the proceedings would not begin for some 
 time. Pringle had engaged a private 
 room for Mrs. Davenport, and to it she 
 retired immediately on their arrival. 
 
 It was evident from the manner of
 
 "MBS. DAVENPORT WAS CALLED." 151 
 
 those assembled in and near the " Wolf- 
 dog," that the approaching inquiry was 
 regarded with great interest, and that 
 popular feeling was aroused against the 
 newly-made widow. 
 
 Mrs. Davenport had entered by a back 
 way, and had not been observed by the 
 loungers. No one in the crowd knew 
 her ; but, of course, if she had passed 
 through it, she would have been re- 
 cognised instantly by her fresh weeds. 
 
 For a while young Pringle stood on the 
 steps of the inn, and the broken snatches 
 of conversation which he overheard did 
 not help to cheer or inspirit him : he 
 would have taken little or no heed of 
 the idle talk floating in and out of the 
 door had he felt merely a professional 
 interest in this woman; but he had just 
 left her; he had been with her for 
 nearly an hour, and although few words 
 had passed between them in that time,
 
 152 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 the spell of her physical beauty had 
 reasserted itself, and his chivalry was up 
 in arms for her. 
 
 While Pringle was standing on the 
 steps of the inn, Dr. Santley and 
 Alfred Paulton came up. They had 
 walked with one another from Half Moon 
 Lane. 
 
 "Well," said the latter, addressing 
 Pringle, " any good news ? " 
 
 The solicitor shook his head and 
 answered : 
 
 " Nothing fresh." { 
 
 "I thought," said Paulton, in a tone ' 
 of disappointment, " that Jerry O'Brien 
 would be with you. Is he not come ? 
 He said he would be here to-day." 
 
 "I have not seen him," said Pringle. 
 " I came out with Mrs. Davenport. She 
 is upstairs in a private room. Do you 
 know anything of Blake ? Have you met 
 him on the way ? "
 
 "MRS. DAVENPORT WAS CALLED." 153 
 
 "Perhaps," said Dr. Santley grimly, 
 "he is cultivating the acquaintance of the 
 police." 
 
 The speakers had moved out of ear- 
 shot of the crowd. 
 
 "No," said Pringle, "I have ascertained 
 that he will not be touched until after 
 this day's work, anyway." 
 
 As the solicitor ceased speaking, two 
 other men approached. They, too, were 
 walking together ; but as they drew near 
 the " Wolfdog," one of them moved off to 
 the right, and went towards the inn 
 door ; the other held on towards the three 
 men. The latter was Jerry O'Brien. 
 When he came up with the little group, 
 and had shaken hands with them, Pringle 
 asked : 
 
 "Who was that you were with as you 
 came up the road?" 
 
 "What! Don't you all know him? 
 Why, who could it be but Tom Blake ? "
 
 154 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 Significant looks passed between the 
 three men. Paulton was the first to 
 speak : 
 
 "You don't mean to say, Jerry, that 
 
 you have " 
 
 "Indeed I have. I met him on the 
 platform at Victoria, and we came out 
 in the same compartment together." 
 
 Jerry O'Brien seemed as much astonished 
 at what he had done as his friends. 
 
 "But," urged Paulton, "you gave him 
 the worst of characters the day before 
 yesterday, and said he had something to 
 do with this awful affair. Since then 
 things have grown blacker against him, 
 and yet you don't cut him ! You come 
 out here arm-in-arm with him to the very 
 inquest where you say he will have to 
 answer the ugliest questions which can be 
 put to a man ! " 
 
 " I bar only one thing in what you have 
 said, Alfred. I did not walk out with him
 
 "MBS. DAVENPORT WAS CALLED." 155- 
 
 arm-in-arm. I met him quite accidentally 
 at Victoria. I told you I should be here 
 at the inquest. I was on my way here. 
 I no more expected to see him than the 
 man in the moon. He pounced on me 
 suddenly, and rushed me. As a rule, I 
 can take care of myself, but I admit I am 
 no match for Blake. I am not sure I ever 
 met his match. Look here, Pringle ; I 
 know you're a first-rate fellow at your 
 work. You're not as old as you might be, 
 but you're one of the best men in England 
 for this kind of a job. However, if you 
 have to tackle Tom Blake, he'll give you 
 as much as you want." 
 
 Jerry O'Brien spoke with heightened 
 colour, and in a tone of intense irritatiou. 
 
 This opinion was not unwelcome to 
 Pringle's ears, for he knew that, no matter 
 how big a scoundrel Blake might be, he 
 would say nothing to inculpate Mrs. 
 Davenport.
 
 156 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 "What is this Blake's manner?" asked 
 Pringle. 
 
 " Perfectly self-possessed, cool and 
 audacious." 
 
 " Is he venturesome ? M 
 
 " He'd play for his boots or his shirt, 
 and then for his skin." 
 
 "Do you think, O'Brien, he'll get out 
 of this with a whole skin ? " 
 
 " He may, for you are not his lawyer," 
 said O'Brien, with a laugh. 
 
 " It is an old form of joke," said the 
 attorney, with a smile. " Do you know 
 if he has got legal assistance ? " 
 
 " Legal assistance ! " cried O'Brien, scorn- 
 fully. " Not he. He laughed when telling 
 me some fellows said he ought to get legal 
 assistance. Why, my dear Pringle, he'd 
 give the best of you thirty out of a 
 hundred, and win the game by making 
 you give misses. When is this thing to 
 begin ? "
 
 " MRS. DAVENPORT WAS CALLED:' 15T 
 
 "Presently. Have you any notion of 
 what he is going to say at the inquest ? " 
 
 " I asked him. I told him the paper 
 found in the handwriting of the deceased 
 would be very awkward." 
 
 "What did he say?" 
 
 "That it looked very awkward, no 
 doubt ; but that many people got into 
 awkward positions and got out of them 
 again." 
 
 " I asked him had he been summoned 
 as a witness, and he said naturally he had, 
 as he was the last person who saw the 
 dead man alive." 
 
 "By Jove, O'Brien! Go on." 
 
 " I asked him how he thought the death 
 occurred. He said that was beyond him 
 to say. He had no doubt it was accidental, 
 and that the memorandum on the piece 
 of paper written under the influence of 
 delirium might be an idea created by 
 chloroform, or while suffering from a relapse
 
 158 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 of the old disease which seized him at 
 Florence years ago." 
 
 " The same story identically. Did he 
 say anything more ? " 
 
 "Yes. I asked him did anything un- 
 pleasant occur between himself and Mr. 
 Davenport that night ? " 
 
 " What did he say to that ? " eagerly 
 asked the attorney. 
 
 " He looked at me doubtfully for a 
 moment. c O'Brien/ he said, c you know 
 more about this than the outside public. 
 You are interested in it ? ' I said I was 
 interested in it very indirectly. 'Very 
 well, then,' said he, ' I'm going to the 
 inquest. You come with me and then you 
 shall hear the truth as far as 1 know 
 it.'" 
 
 "This put me in a queer fix. I had 
 not up to this told him I was on my way 
 to this place. I could not keep the fact 
 any longer to myself, so I told him I
 
 "MRS. DAVENPORT WAS CALLED: 7 159 
 
 expected to find friends here, nothing 
 more ; and I asked him if I might com- 
 municate the substance of what he had 
 said to them. He gave me full liberty. 
 After all this, you will see I could not 
 very well shake him off. When we got 
 here he shook himself off. Mrs. Davenport's 
 name was never mentioned by either of 
 us. He did not show the least curiosity 
 when I said I took an indirect interest 
 in the case." 
 
 A few minutes after this the four men 
 moved into the inn, and the coroner having 
 arrived, the jury were sworn, and after re- 
 turning from Crescent House, the business 
 of taking evidence began. 
 
 After formal identification of the body 
 by Mr. Edward Davenport, the witness 
 examined was Alfred Paulton. He told 
 his story simply and briefly, and answered 
 the questions of the coroner and jury with 
 precision. When what may be regarded
 
 160 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 as the examination-in-chief was over, Mr. 
 Bertram Spencer, legal representative of 
 Mr. Edward Davenport, put a few questions 
 through the coroner. Paulton's replies were 
 in effect : 
 
 No, he had never seen Mr. Davenport 
 alive. When Dr. Santley and he entered 
 the room where Mr. Davenport lay, deceased 
 was then dead. At least, so he believed. 
 He had no acquaintance with the effects 
 of chloroform. He had never been in the 
 room with a dead person before. Mrs. 
 Davenport, upon his invitation, accom- 
 panied him to his father's house, also in 
 Half Moon Lane. Paulton was asked a 
 few more questions, but nothing new came 
 out. 
 
 Dr. Santley was then examined. He 
 stated that Mr. Paulton called him on 
 the morning of the death. That he went 
 immediately, as he happened to be dressed 
 and disengaged at the time. He found
 
 'MRS. DAVENPORT WAS CALLED." 161 
 
 Mr. Davenport quite dead. He thought 
 life had been extinct for an hour or so ; 
 it was impossible to say accurately. The 
 body was not cold. He was familiar with 
 cases of spasmodic asthma. Practically 
 it never killed directly ; that is, one never 
 died of the spasm. In a spasm, the heart, 
 or head, or lungs, or aorta might give way, 
 causing death. He had never known a 
 case of death from spasmodic asthma, pure 
 and simple. 
 
 He was, of course, familiar with chloro- 
 form as an anaesthetic. He had once seen 
 a case of poisoning by chloroform. That 
 case was accidental. Chloroform was fre- 
 quently used as a palliative in severe cases 
 of asthma. A small quantity sprinkled on 
 a napkin or handkerchief and held close 
 to the nose and mouth very often afforded 
 temporary relief. This treatment had no 
 effect on the disease beyond mitigating the 
 violence or putting an end to the spasm. 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 Chloroform should always be administered 
 with great care, as it had frequently been 
 known to cause death. In the present case 
 he found no napkin or handkerchief lying 
 near the body. In administering chloro- 
 form for spasmodic asthma, the usual way 
 was to fold a napkin so that when open 
 it would resemble rudely a funnel. Into 
 the sharper end of the funnel the chloroform 
 was dropped, and then the mouth and 
 nose of the patient thrust into the more 
 open end. The handkerchief of deceased 
 showed no trace of being used in the 
 administration of chloroform, nor did either 
 of the napkins found in the room. There 
 was a very strong smell of chloroform 
 about the place, and a large, a very large 
 quantity had been spilled over the beard 
 and shirt and waistcoat of deceased. The 
 bottle produced was what was known as 
 a two-ounce bottle. The full of it, or half 
 the full of it would, if sprinkled over the
 
 " MBS. DAVENPORT WAS CALLED." 163 
 
 shirt and beard and waistcoat, in all like- 
 lihood cause death, provided the natural 
 course of the vapour upwards towards the 
 mouth and nostrils was not interfered with. 
 He could form no certain opinion as to 
 the cause of death. He had declined to 
 certify because he did not know. He 
 would prefer giving no opinion. The 
 brain, or aorta, or heart might have 
 given way without displaying any external 
 symptom. If the lungs had yielded, there 
 would no doubt have been an outward 
 sign. In deaths by chloroform he was 
 not acquainted with any infallible out- 
 ward sign. A post-mortem examination 
 would, he thought, determine the cause of 
 death. 
 
 A few questions were then put on behalf 
 of Mrs. Davenport. The case of poisoning 
 by chloroform which had come directly 
 under his notice was unquestionably 
 accidental. A man who suffered acutely 
 
 m 2
 
 164 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 from neuralgia was in the habit of using 
 chloroform to allay pain. He was found 
 dead in his bed one morning with an 
 empty bottle, which had contained an 
 ounce of the drug, by the side of his face 
 and partly under the clothes. It was 
 possible, but very unlikely, that in the 
 present case the bottle might have been 
 accidentally emptied by deceased. Chloro- 
 form was denser than water, and would 
 not run out of such a bottle very quickly. 
 It was most unlikely that any man in 
 possession of his senses would allow an 
 ounce and a half of that fluid to escape 
 from such a bottle and fall on his beard 
 and chest. Assuming he was recumbent 
 at the time, he would be obliged to hold 
 the bottle on a level with his eyes in 
 order to pour the spirit on his beard, and 
 he would have to hold the bottle in that 
 position for an appreciable time. In his
 
 "MBS. DAVENPORT WAS CALLED." 165 
 
 opinion, the poison had not got on 
 deceased accidentally. 
 
 Up to this point the questions had all 
 been put through the coroner. Now 
 Pringle suggested that it would be for 
 the convenience of all concerned if he 
 himself might, by favour of the coroner, 
 directly interrogate the witness. This was 
 agreed to, the coroner, before proceeding 
 any further, giving notice that no further 
 evidence 'Would be taken that day, and 
 that as soon as Dr. Santley's evidence was 
 concluded, the inquiry would be adjourned 
 pending the result of the post-mortem 
 examination. 
 
 At this announcement Mr. Pringle ex- 
 pressed the greatest surprise. He had 
 been curious to learn why the medical 
 evidence had been gone into so early in 
 the case. But knowing the coroner always 
 acted with the greatest tact and judgment,
 
 166 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 he had made no remark at the time. For 
 his part, he believed such a course, if 
 followed, would be found very inconve- 
 nient. 
 
 Mrs. Davenport, in whose interest he 
 was watching the case, was particularly- 
 anxious to be examined to-day, as she 
 felt the strain of expectation in such an 
 ordeal very great. 
 
 The coroner said if Mrs. Davenport was 
 anxious to be examined he should be 
 happy to take her evidence. 
 
 In that case Mr. Pringle begged as a 
 favour that he might be allowed to reserve 
 the few questions he had to ask Dr. 
 Santley until after Mrs. Davenport had 
 been examined. To this also, after a little 
 show of resistance, the coroner acceded. 
 
 Pringle had resolved to have her evi- 
 dence taken to-day at any risk. Several 
 reasons urged him to this determination. 
 It would look better, or, rather, less bad,
 
 "JIBS. DAVENPORT WAS CALLED." 167 
 
 in the eyes of the public to state that 
 in a week's time her strength would be 
 diminished by waiting and anxiety ; and to 
 get her examined thus, after the point at 
 which the coroner had intended practically 
 to close the evidence for that day would, 
 he felt certain, tend to mitigate the rigours 
 of the examination. 
 
 Mrs. Davenport was called.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ANOTHER WITNESS. 
 
 There was a slight commotion in the dingy- 
 room when this woman with the lovely 
 figure and beautiful head and face entered. 
 The coroner straightened himself and 
 looked at her under his spectacles. The 
 jury leaned forward and stared, and the 
 few members of the general public who 
 had succeeded in gaining admission to the 
 room strained their necks and shuffled 
 their feet. 
 
 She advanced quietly to the table at 
 which the coroner sat, with the jury on 
 his right, and having thrown back her
 
 ANOTHER WITNESS. 169 
 
 thick widow's veil and ungloved her right 
 hand, took the Book and kissed it when 
 the proper moment for doing so arrived. 
 The coroner pointed to a chair, and told 
 her she might be seated. She simply 
 bowed and remained standing. 
 
 She was pale, rigid, collected. The 
 coroner busied himself with the pens, ink, 
 and paper before him for a little while, 
 and then asked her to tell them all she 
 knew of the night and event under con- 
 sideration. 
 
 When she spoke her voice was clear 
 .and firm — as free from emotion as though 
 she was repeating an old task by rote. 
 The earlier portions of what she said may 
 be partly omitted, for they have been 
 already related to Alfred Paulton and 
 Richard Pringle. For the sake of concise- 
 ness, the remainder of the evidence taken 
 that day will, in the case of each witness, 
 follow the order of events in narrative
 
 170 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 form, and not the order of events as 
 given by the witnesses. 
 
 " She and her husband arrived at 
 Crescent House the night he died. He 
 was not so well as usual, but she had 
 known the asthma more troublesome. 
 They had supper together. He ate more 
 sparingly than usual. They were alone in 
 the house. He decided upon resting on 
 the couch all night. No room but her 
 sleeping room was in anything like order. 
 She was tired after the journey. They 
 had come from Chester that day. Her 
 husband suggested she should go to bed. 
 At about ten o'clock she went to her 
 room, but resolved not to lie down yet, 
 as she was anxious about her husband, 
 and resolved to see him once more, and 
 put more coal on the fire before retiring 
 finally. She sat down in a chair, and, 
 being overcome with fatigue and drowsi- 
 ness, fell asleep. She had no means of
 
 ANOTHER WITNESS. 171 
 
 telling exactly when she fell asleep, but 
 she thought she must have been about 
 twenty minutes in her room before she 
 grew unconscious. 
 
 "Close to midnight she awoke with a 
 start. It must have been the opening of 
 the dining-room door that aroused her. 
 She had left her bed-room door ajar, and 
 the carpets not being down, sounds were 
 exaggerated and travelled far. 
 
 " She listened and heard voices — the 
 voices of two people, two men. She knew 
 the two voices. One was that of her 
 husband — the other that of Mr. Thomas 
 Blake. Both voices seemed friendly, but 
 she did not catch the words. Shortly 
 after she heard Mr. Blake distinctly say 
 * Good-night,' and her husband answer 
 ' Good-night, Blake/ She was quite 
 positive these were the words spoken, 
 and that the tones were friendly — yes, 
 she was prepared to swear, cordial. Then
 
 172 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 she heard a man's footstep on the un- 
 carpeted boards of the hall, and in a 
 moment the front door was closed. 
 
 "Some time elapsed before she went 
 down — half-an-hour, or perhaps a little 
 more. She had a reason for not going 
 down immediately. From the time the 
 front door was shut until she went down 
 she had not heard a sound, not the 
 faintest sound, in the house. A slight 
 noise arising in the dining-room, where 
 she had left Mr. Davenport, would be 
 inaudible to her ; but she felt almost 
 certain no one could in that interval of 
 time enter or leave the house without 
 her hearing him. 
 
 "At twenty minutes past twelve she 
 descended and crept cautiously into the 
 dining-room, wishing not to disturb her 
 husband if he should be sleeping. Her 
 husband was reclining on the couch in 
 very nearly the same attitude she had
 
 ANOTHER WITNESS. 173 
 
 left him ; it was such as he always took 
 when his cough prevented his lying 
 down. 
 
 " She believed he was sleeping, and stood 
 gazing at him for a few seconds. Then, 
 becoming uneasy, she did not know why, 
 she called him several times, and failing 
 to arouse him with her voice, she placed 
 her hand on his shoulder. She now 
 became grievously alarmed, for he had 
 always been a remarkably light sleeper. 
 She listened for his breathing, but could 
 hear nothing. 
 
 " After a few moments she became terri- 
 fied, desperate, and, going to the front door, 
 opened it and attracted the attention of 
 Mr. Paulton, who in a short time brought 
 Dr. Santley, who said he was dead. 
 
 " Yes ; she identified that bottle. It was 
 the one in which her husband used to keep 
 chloroform. He had the bottle always by 
 him. When she left him to go to her
 
 174 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 room that night two hours earlier the 
 bottle was more than three-quarters full 
 of chloroform, and the cork was in it. 
 Thirty or forty drops was the quantity 
 her husband generally used at a time. 
 He always spilled the chloroform into a 
 napkin formed into a rude resemblance of 
 a cornucopia, and then inhaled it. To 
 her knowledge, he never used the drug 
 internally, nor in any way but that 
 described. 
 
 "I have known Mr. Thomas Blake for 
 many years. We were once secretly 
 engaged to be married, but my father 
 broke the matter off, and I married Mr. 
 Davenport, who was much older than I — 
 twenty-five or twenty-six years older. 
 When Mr. Blake was a very young man 
 he met Mr. Davenport abroad, so my 
 late husband told me. It was Mr. Blake 
 introduced my late husband to me. At 
 that time Mr. Blake and I were secretly
 
 ANOTHER WITNESS. 175 
 
 engaged. After this engagement was known 
 to my father and broken off by him, as 
 far as his forbidding me to see Mr. Blake, 
 I still communicated with Mr. Blake and 
 received letters from him. These were 
 surreptitious communications. 
 
 " Mr. Davenport then proposed to me 
 and I refused him. Shortly after this 
 I received a letter from Mr. filake, saying 
 there was no use in our continuing to 
 
 o 
 
 hope w T e should one day be married, as 
 neither of us had any money or the chance 
 of getting any, and consequently we ought 
 to make up our minds to resign ourselves 
 to fate. Shortly after this Mr. Davenport 
 proposed to me again and I accepted him. 
 We were married a few months later, and 
 have most of the time since then resided 
 at Mr. Davenport's place near Kilcash, in 
 the county of Waterford. 
 
 "The terms upon which Mr. Blake gave 
 me up will be told you by himself. I
 
 176 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 had nothing to do with that bargain. 
 After an absence of a little time from 
 Ireland, Mr. Blake came back and stayed 
 occasionally in Kilcash, close to which my 
 husband's house was. I saw little of 
 Mr. Blake. My husband met him now 
 and then. In those days I believe Mr. 
 Blake gave me up solely for the reason 
 mentioned in the letter of which I have 
 spoken. Subsequently I found out other 
 considerations had been working in Mr. 
 Blake's mind. 
 
 "My marriage with Mr. Davenport was 
 not a love-match. A variety of reasons 
 urged me into marrying him. Among 
 these reasons I cannot count love. I have 
 diligently, conscientiously done my duty 
 by him for ten years. I never pretended 
 or professed to love him. I respected his 
 moral code, but his social and intellectual 
 faculties did not impress, did not interest 
 me, and certainly did not gain my esteem.
 
 ANOTHER WITNESS. 177 
 
 We Jived in peace and comfort. He 
 never once quarrelled with me — I never 
 with him. 
 
 "I said I had a reason for not going 
 down immediately after Mr. Blake left 
 the house the other night. My reason 
 was that generally after a visit from Mr. 
 Blake, Mr. Davenport was unpleasantly 
 excited with, as I even then thought, a 
 lingering feeling of jealousy. At such 
 times he never said anything harsh or 
 unpleasant of Mr. Blake or of myself, 
 but he was certain to become feverishly 
 angry with some one or other ; and believ- 
 ing that after such a journey, and with 
 so bad a cough, it would be injurious to 
 him to excite himself unduly, I kept back 
 awhile. 
 
 " I had the strongest possible objection 
 to having this unhappy occurrence made 
 the object of official inquiry or public 
 comment. I would not have spoken as 
 
 VOL. I. n
 
 178 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 I have since I came in here for any other 
 consideration in the world than my inability 
 to tell anything that is not true. 
 
 " I would not swear anything that was 
 not true to save my life ; no, nor to save 
 the life of any one living or any one who 
 has lived. You ask me did I not perjure 
 myself when I swore at the altar to love 
 my late husband. I say I did not. When 
 I took that oath I meant to keep it. I 
 meant to try and love him with all my 
 — I will not say heart — with all my reason, 
 if such an expression may be allowed. 
 I was fully honest when I took the oath. 
 When you do all you can to carry out 
 your promise, and yet fail in the end, 
 there is no flaw. One cannot control the 
 inevitable. 
 
 " Now that all is known, all my recent 
 life laid bare, who is the richer ? Does 
 anv one wonder I had no liking to expose 
 what has been told of since I came into
 
 ANOTHER WITNESS. 179 
 
 this place ? You, Mr. Edward Davenport, 
 have, in the moment of her sorest trial, 
 done all you could to injure the character 
 of your brother's wife. You had not the 
 courage to attack her openly when she 
 was a widow, but must shamble and crouch 
 behind a hireling advocate — a creature who 
 would pocket as clean the gold of any one 
 even more leprous than himself." 
 
 And before the coroner could collect him- 
 self, or stay her by gesture, sbe had swept 
 out of the room. 
 
 From begrinnin^ to end her voice had 
 never altered in pitch. The concluding 
 words were spoken in the same manner 
 as those of the opening. Hence when 
 the import of her final words began to 
 reach the minds of the hearers, she had 
 finished, and was in the act of leaving 
 the room. Her words " shamble " and 
 "crouch" were peculiarly applicable to 
 Edward Davenport at the time, for no 
 
 N 2
 
 1 80 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 sooner did she begin her reference to him 
 than she pointed him out, and he in- 
 stinctively shrank behind his solicitor, 
 to whom he had been prompting questions 
 most offensive. 
 
 When the murmur which followed the 
 disappearance of Mrs. Davenport had sub- 
 sided, and the coroner had somewhat 
 recovered from his astonishment, Thomas 
 Blake stood up, stepped forward to the 
 table, and, laying his hand on it, said : 
 
 " I am the last person who saw Mr. 
 Louis Davenport alive. I desire to be 
 examined."
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 BLAKE S EVIDENCE. 
 
 When Blake stood up and tendered his 
 testimony, a murmur of ugly import ran 
 through the room. In all there were not 
 more than fifty people present, but the 
 fifty were typical of the general public, 
 and already feeling ran high against 
 Blake. 
 
 He looked around contemptuously, 
 defiantly. At one moment it seemed as 
 though he was about to laugh outright. 
 The public can endure anything better 
 than derision. The murmur grew to a 
 groan. Silence was called in a tyrannical
 
 182 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 tone. The coroner pushed his spectacles 
 up on his forehead, and regarded Blake 
 steadfastly for a few seconds. 
 
 A square-built man, of medium height, 
 stood before the judge. His hair was 
 short, crisp, grizzled. He wore his hat 
 jauntily in front of his waistcoat, and 
 had an eye-glass fixed in his left eye. In 
 the hand which held his hat he carried a 
 stout oak stick. His hat was a soft felt 
 one ; his clothes light, coarse tweed, of 
 pepper-and-salt colour. His brow was 
 firm, low, and handsome ; his complexion 
 iiorid, the colour of- his eyes bright blue. 
 He wore no hair on his face but heavy, 
 grizzled moustachios. His boots were 
 patent leather. He was ungloved. 
 
 The coroner, an old and venerable- 
 looking man, viewed Blake with anything 
 but favour. 
 
 "Do I understand you to say, sir, that
 
 BLAKE'S EVIDENCE. 183 
 
 you are the person who saw deceased last 
 before his death ? " 
 
 This was said in a grave, monitory- 
 tone. 
 
 " So I believe," said Blake, lightly ; 
 " and as I am most anxious to tell all I 
 know, I should like to be examined before 
 the adjournment." 
 
 " I had determined to take no more 
 evidence to-day than would warrant me 
 in adjourning until a <post-movtem exami- 
 nation could be made." 
 
 " Well, if you examine me, it may save 
 the police trouble." 
 
 The coroner looked at the inspector who 
 w T as watching the case, and then at Pringle 
 and Bertram Spencer, who were watching 
 the case for the widow and brother of the 
 deceased. The inspector looked down and 
 smiled ; Pringle looked up at the ceiling 
 in unpleasant doubt ; but Spencer, who
 
 184 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 represented Mr. Edward Davenport, was 
 urgent that Blake should be heard. The 
 public were also anxious Blake should be 
 examined. The public were athirst for 
 blood or scandal. In this case the publie 
 was unwashed and evil-visaged. Even the 
 jury, who were not there by choice, had 
 a forbidding, ghoul-like, and clayey look. 
 The coroner was scrupulously clean. He 
 was blanched and ghostly. Alfred Paulton 
 looked like one suffering from a hideous 
 nightmare. The inspector was grim, sar- 
 donic, rigid ; the coroner s clerk sullen 
 and sleepy, and seemed to think the 
 last thing which in fairness ought to 
 trouble a coroner's clerk was a coroner's 
 inquest. 
 
 In that dull, saddened room, lit by the 
 wan February light, the only bright-look- 
 ing figure or face was that of Thomas 
 Blake, upon whom rested a strong sus- 
 picion of murder.
 
 BLAKE'S EVIDENCE. 185> 
 
 After some talk and thought, the coroner 
 resolved to take Thomas Blake's evidence, 
 and having cautioned the witness, which 
 made the witness smile in a way that pro- 
 voked the public, he took down Blake's 
 version of the story. Again it will 
 be most convenient to throw the evi- 
 dence into the form of uninterrupted 
 narrative : 
 
 " I am now thirty-six years of age. I 
 have known the late Mr. Davenport for 
 many years. I knew him abroad before 
 I met him in Ireland. It was in Florence 
 that I met him first. I was introduced 
 to him by an American gentleman, a 
 sculptor by profession. I saw a good 
 deal of Mr. Davenport when I was in 
 Florence. I am now speaking of eleven 
 or twelve years ago. While I was on 
 friendly terms with him in that city his 
 mind was affected. He suffered from a 
 delusion that there was a conspiracy to
 
 186 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 kill and rob him. He usually at that 
 time carried valuable jewels and consider- 
 able sums of money on his person. I 
 often advised him to give up that habit, 
 but my words for some time produced no 
 effect on him. Then, all at once, they 
 seemed to operate, and he turned on me 
 and said, with great fury, that if there 
 were danger to his property or person he 
 had no one to fear but me. 
 
 " At that time I was a needy man, and 
 I had borrowed money of him, which I 
 have never repaid. That is so. During 
 the time Mr. Davenport was ill — was 
 suffering from this delusion or suspicion 
 — I was constantly with him. I do not 
 think he disclosed to any one but me 
 the delusions or suspicions he was under. 
 When he recovered he made me swear 
 most solemnly I would never tell a soul. 
 Then he lent me, or, if you prefer it, gave 
 me, more money, and left Florence, and
 
 BLAKE'S EVIDENCE. 187 
 
 I lost sight of him until I met him in 
 Ireland. 
 
 " I do not consider my conduct in that 
 matter dishonourable. I had done him a 
 service by minding him and keeping his 
 malady private, and he gave me money 
 for my services. Yes, and for my silence, 
 if you like. 
 
 "I do not know whether my conduct 
 would be considered gentlemanly. I am 
 not here to give an opinion, but to state 
 facts. If an opinion of gentlemanly con- 
 duct is required, why not have an attorney's 
 clerk from the purlieus of Lincoln's Inn 
 Fields as an expert ? I beg your pardon, 
 sir, I should not have used such words, 
 but I heard that question suggested by 
 Mr. Davenport. 
 
 " I did not again see the late Mr. 
 Davenport on the Continent. The next 
 time we met was in Ireland. Yes ; at 
 that time I was paying attentions to
 
 188 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 Mrs. Davenport, who was then Miss 
 Butler. When the deceased came on the 
 scene, Miss Butler and I were secretly 
 engaged to one another — engaged to one 
 another without the knowledge of Miss 
 Butler's father. I was then practically 
 without means or the reasonable expecta- 
 tion of getting any ; but, then, few young 
 men in such a position are very particular 
 as to whether the expectation is reasonable 
 or not. If they expect, that is enough 
 for them." 
 
 Then the witness gave evidence in the- 
 same line as that of the widow. While 
 this part of the inquiry was progressing, 
 a light rain began to fall. The evidence 
 of Blake went on : 
 
 "It was I who broke off the engagement 
 between Miss Butler and myself. By the 
 time that occurred, Mr. Butler had dis- 
 covered the existence of the private 
 engagement. He was very indignant, and
 
 BLAKE'S EVIDENCE. 189 
 
 forbade me his house. This was at 
 Scrouthea, Mr. Butler's place in the county 
 of Cork. 
 
 " I took no notice of Mr. Butler's pro- 
 hibition. I communicated with Miss 
 Butler as often as I thought fit and could 
 find an opportunity. But at this time I 
 began to feel there would be no chance of 
 our ever marrying. The opposition of 
 Mr. Butler continued undiminished. Mr. 
 Davenport did not cease to importune, 
 and at that time I lost the last money I 
 had in the world on a horse. 
 
 " It was not purely matters of prudence 
 that made me desist in my suit. I saw 
 now quite plainly there was no use in my 
 continuing to hope. Persistence would 
 only waste the lives of both of us. All 
 this time Mr. Davenport and I were on 
 speaking terms. I was in no fear of his 
 supplanting me in the affections of Miss 
 Butler, and he was in abject fear of me.
 
 190 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 " His fear of me arose from the power 
 I had of telling of the seizure to which 
 I had seen him subjected in Florence. 
 Like all men who are a little odd, his 
 great aversion was from being thought 
 odd, and the notion of any one suspecting 
 him of insanity filled him with absolute 
 horror. 
 
 " To be brief, I told him I had lost the 
 last shilling I had in the world, and that 
 consequently I had made up my mind 
 Miss Butler and I could never more be 
 anything else but friends, and that I 
 would leave the country if I had the 
 means. He asked me to say nothing 
 about what I had seen in Florence, shook 
 me by the hand, and lent or gave me a 
 thousand pounds. With that thousand 
 pounds I went out of the country. Before 
 leaving, I wrote to Miss Butler saying all 
 must be at an end between us because of
 
 BLAKE'S EVIDENCE. 191 
 
 my poverty, arising from my loss on the 
 Turf. 
 
 " How much did I lose on the horse ? 
 Let me see. All I had. How much was 
 that ? Let me see again. About seven 
 hundred and fifty pounds." 
 
 " But when Mr. Davenport had given 
 you the thousand pounds, you were better 
 ■off than before the race. Why, then, did 
 you renounce Miss Butler ? " 
 
 "Yes, no doubt, I was even better off; 
 but do you think I could honourably 
 employ this man's money in taking away 
 from him the woman he loved ? " 
 
 " And do you think it was honourable 
 for you to give her up, and take hush 
 money from your rival ? " 
 
 "I am here, as I said before, to state 
 facts, not to give opinions. When gentle- 
 men want opinions, they hire lawyers to 
 give them."
 
 1 92 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 " You gave up the lady to whom you 
 were engaged, and black-mailed your 
 friend for a thousand pounds ? " 
 
 " I give up the facts to you. It is 
 the duty of the attorney to embellish 
 them. I am not, Mr. Coroner, bound 
 to answer questions which are simply 
 rhetorical." 
 
 The coroner merely shook his head, and 
 the evidence went on : 
 
 " From the day I bade Mr. Davenport 
 good-bye in Ireland, ten years ago, until 
 the day of his death, I often saw Mr. 
 Davenport, and spoke to him." 
 
 " And you heard from him ? You received 
 communications from him ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "And money?" 
 
 " Yes, from time to time I received 
 money from him by letter." 
 
 " Was that money black- mail ? " 
 
 "I wrote him saying I was in want
 
 BLAKE'S EVIDENCE. 193 
 
 of money, and he sent me money accom- 
 panied by friendly letters. You are at 
 liberty to call it what you like. If you 
 search his papers, no doubt you will find 
 my letters to him. -I did not keep copies 
 of them, nor did I keep his replies. 
 
 " Yes ; I had an object in calling on 
 him the night he died. I had heard he 
 was in London, or coming to London, 
 and I got the address in Dulwich. I 
 had business with him. It was to get 
 more money from him. You may say 
 * extract more money from him ' if you like. 
 
 " I knocked at the door. He opened 
 it himself. He complained of his asthma, 
 said there was no servant in the house, 
 and that Mrs. Davenport had gone to bed. 
 He asked me to go into the dining-room, 
 which I found as has been described, and 
 we sat and chatted for some time in a 
 most agreeable manner. We talked of 
 indifferent things. Of course we spoke 
 
 VOL. I. O
 
 194 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 of Mrs. Davenport. He said, in talking 
 of her, that although theirs had not been 
 a love-match, they had got on wonderfully 
 well together, and that he was quite happy, 
 and he believed she was contented. He 
 asked how long I purposed staying in 
 London, and I said only a few days. 
 Then he invited me to call on Mrs. 
 Davenport and himself when they were 
 in better trim " 
 
 " What — what is that you say ? " shouted 
 Mr. Edward Davenport, starting to his 
 feet and gesticulating wildly. "It's per- 
 jury — wilful and corrupt perjury ! " 
 
 It was with the greatest difficulty 
 Bertram Spencer could prevail upon his 
 client to resume his seat and keep silent. 
 After a while Blake was allowed to continue 
 his evidence : 
 
 " I promised to come the next evening 
 but one, and he said that would suit 
 them admirably. Then he smiled and
 
 BLAKE'S EVIDENCE. 195 
 
 said he was sure this was not merely a 
 visit of ceremony, and that he supposed I 
 would allow him to be of any use I chose. 
 I told him he was quite right, that I 
 had no money, and that two hundred 
 pounds would be of the greatest service 
 to me at that moment. He said he had 
 not so much by him, but that he would 
 give me a hundred now and another hun- 
 dred when I called the next day but 
 one. ' That will be,' said he, ' the 19th 
 of February.' He added that he'd make 
 a memorandum of it, and he did so in 
 the pocket-book which has been produced 
 here by the police. After that nothing 
 passed but ' Good-nights ' on both sides, 
 and then I went away, closing the front 
 door after me." 
 
 Here reference was made to the pocket- 
 book, but no such entry as that described 
 could be found. There was no such entry 
 in the book. 
 
 o 2
 
 196 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 Then, having cautioned the witness again, 
 the coroner said two leaves of the book 
 had been torn out, one of which had been 
 found. On the leaf found appeared words 
 of the gravest import. They were : 
 
 " Pretended death. Blake gone. He 
 emptied chloroform over me — held me 
 down. Can't stir. Dying." 
 
 Could witness give any explanation of 
 this? 
 
 "No; I can give no explanation of 
 that writing. It is perfectly untrue. 
 When I left the presence of the man 
 now dead he seemed to be in as good 
 health as his asthma would allow. My 
 only way of accounting for what followed 
 is that, after my leaving, he administered 
 some chloroform to himself. This dis- 
 turbed his reason, and he suffered from 
 a return of the old delusion he had suffered 
 in Florence "
 
 BLAKE'S EVIDENCE. 197 
 
 " And of which you are the only living 
 person who knows, or ever did know, 
 anything ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And further ? " 
 
 " And further, that whi]e suffering under 
 this delusion, and being greatly excited 
 and rendered tremulous by it, he acci- 
 dentally spilled the remainder of the chloro 
 form over himself/' 
 
 " He did not show any suicidal tendency, 
 or say anything of suicide while you were 
 present ? " 
 
 "No ; on the contrary, he seemed in 
 very good spirits, and spoke quite cheer- 
 fully of the future. By-the-way, I forgot 
 to mention one saying of his. When 
 asking me to come and see Mrs. Davenport 
 and himself on the 19th, he said, 'You 
 know I am not afraid of a rival now. 
 We are none of us as young as we were
 
 198 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 ten years ago, and if you have kept single 
 with the notion of marrying a rich widow 
 — she will be rich, Blake — yon will have 
 a weary time to wait ; for asthma gives 
 a long lease to life." 
 
 Here the inquiry was adjourned for four 
 days in order to give time for the _£>o,<tf- 
 mortem examination. 
 
 As the people began to leave their 
 places, Eichard Pringle whispered to Jerry 
 O'Brien : 
 
 "That man Blake has put his head into 
 the halter and kicked away the barrel 
 from under his feet." 
 
 When Pringle and O'Brien got out of 
 that room in the "Wolfdog," they looked 
 everywhere for Alfred Paulton. He was 
 not to be found. He had disappeared, 
 leaving no word or trace behind him. 
 
 As Blake left the inn, two men, dressed 
 like stable-helpers, came up to him and
 
 BLAKE'S EVIDENCE. 199 
 
 said they arrested him on suspicion of 
 being concerned in the murder of the late 
 Mr. Louis Davenport. 
 
 The rain was now falling in torrents.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 ALFRED PAULTON's WALK. 
 
 It was now pitch dark. The rain rushed 
 downward through the still air in over- 
 whelming sheets. Through the leafless 
 trees it fell with a shrill, constant hiss. 
 On the open road it beat with a loud> 
 dull rolling sound, sometimes like the dull 
 murmur of distant traffic, sometimes like, 
 the distant roar of a mighty concourse of 
 people. 
 
 Out beyond the lamps of the town there 
 was not a glimmer of light to be seen any- 
 where. If one turned one's face upwards, 
 the source of the rain seemed not to be
 
 ALFRED PAULTON'S WALK. 201 
 
 more than a few feet overhead. If one 
 turned one's face to the ground, a thick 
 heavy vapour, born of the shattered drops, 
 rose warm against one's mouth and eyes. 
 There was no noise abroad but that of' 
 the incessant deluge. If it had abated 
 or increased, one would have thought it 
 was the result of a thunder-storm. But 
 it did not alter in character or decree. 
 It was a constant torrent, not a fitful 
 flood. 
 
 It was between six and seven o'clock 
 when Alfred Paulton found himself walking 
 on a lonely road under this fierce down- 
 pour. How he got there he did not know. 
 He had a confused memory of what had 
 taken place within the past few hours. 
 He had no clue whatever to where he 
 now was. He had no more than a blurred 
 image of the scene in that low, dingy, ill- 
 lighted room at the " "Wolfdog Inn." Even 
 when Mrs. Davenport was giving evidence
 
 202 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 his attention had been but feebly aroused.. 
 He had felt drowsy, jaded. He then told 
 himself that it would be much better for 
 him to go home and have some rest and 
 sleep. He had been without proper sleep 
 for three nights. He had been too much 
 excited to get to sleep soundly, and when 
 for a time he fell into an uneasy doze y 
 he had awakened with a shudder and a 
 start from some dire form of nightmare, 
 in which familiar forms and faces had been 
 cruelly jumbled in hideous events. 
 
 But on this unknown road, and now, 
 after wandering he knew not how long^ 
 all at once he was smitten with a sharp 
 impression of his present situation. He 
 moved his eyes this way and that in quick 
 anxiety. It is not possible to say he 
 looked in the sense that looking takes in 
 objects by means of sight. He could hear 
 and feel the rain, and smell the heavy 
 damp vapour rising from the ground, from
 
 ALFRED PAULTON'S WALK. 203 
 
 the flooded road at his feet. But if sight 
 had been painlessly taken from him at that 
 moment, he would have been unconscious 
 of loss. 
 
 A feeling of desolation and infrangible 
 solitude came upon him. 
 
 He paused in his walk and listened. 
 His ears caught nothing but the muffled 
 hiss of the rain through the air, the angry- 
 beat of it among the leafless trees, and 
 the slashing singing of it on the flooded 
 ground. The effect of it was an awful 
 combination of the darkness of the grave,, 
 an inviolate solitude, and a deluge lacking 
 merciful power to overwhelm. 
 
 He would have greeted any companion 
 with joy. The society of the humblest 
 beast, the most abject man, would have- 
 cheered him almost beyond the bounds of 
 reason. 
 
 The completeness of his isolation was 
 not due merely to external forces com-
 
 204 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 bined with physical and mental exhaustion. 
 The hollow spaces of his imagination 
 were filled with ghostly hints of an 
 unendurable crime. In the caverns of his 
 thought was no pageant of people or of 
 things. No words or echoes of words 
 sounded through the dim, unexplorable 
 vaults. Everywhere within there was the 
 look of sacrilege by bloodshed, the faint 
 unendurable replication of dying groans. 
 The marks of a red hand were on all the 
 walls, the last moans of a murdered man 
 filled the concave gloom. 
 
 He had heard that man Biake give his 
 evidence freely, almost jauntily. He had 
 seen that other man lying dead in the 
 disordered room. As he had listened to 
 the evidence of Blake, he had felt the air 
 about his head grow cold with awe, while 
 his whole frame froze with terror. All 
 the people in the room where that accursed 
 tale was told believed instinctively that this
 
 ALFRED PAULTON'S WALK. 205 
 
 man, talking with such odious glibness, was 
 a perjurer and an assassin. 
 
 Ugh ! It was horrible — too horrible for 
 a sane human being to dwell upon ! He 
 would give all he had in the world to 
 be able to banish the memory of the past 
 few days from his mind. But a curse 
 had fallen upon him, and now no other 
 event of all his life would stay with him 
 for one brief minute to keep him away from 
 this awful scene. 
 
 When in that room where the inquest 
 was held he had felt very cold. Now he 
 was hot, uncomfortably hot. This was 
 strange ; for there he had been under 
 cover, and there had been a fire in the 
 room. Here not only was he in the open 
 aii, but under a fierce downpour of rain. 
 Indeed it was one of the greatest storms 
 of rain he had ever been out in. The 
 rain was useful in one way — it would cool 
 him.
 
 206 TEMPEST TOSSED. 
 
 Ah, that was much better ! To take 
 off his hat and let the cool rain beat on 
 his bare head was a luxury — a delicious 
 luxury. It was indeed a luxury such as 
 he had wished for in vain a little while 
 ago ; for it not only took away the great, 
 unaccountable heat from which he would 
 otherwise have suffered most severely, but, 
 better a thousandfold, it kept his mind 
 from running on the events of a few days 
 back, and this day in particular. The 
 effect of rain falling on his bare head was 
 to banish thought from the brain, and give 
 the brain rest. 
 
 What an extraordinary thing the brain 
 was ! Awhile ago he had been able to 
 recall hardly any of the circumstances of 
 the inquest ; then they all rushed into his 
 mind, causing him great disquietude ; and 
 now the mere falling of rain on his un- 
 covered head had put him into a whole- 
 some and almost pleasant state of mind !
 
 ALFRED PATJLTON'S WALK. 207 
 
 The heat was gradually getting less. 
 Yes, there could be no mistake about 
 <that. A few minutes since it seemed as 
 though it would take hours to reduce the 
 temperature to the degree it had already 
 reached. Keeping the hat off was no 
 longer necessary. In fact, it was no 
 longer comfortable to go uncovered. He 
 would put on his hat. 
 
 He was wet through now — thoroughly 
 wet. He must have been soaked before 
 that great heat came upon him. It was 
 very extraordinary that he should feel so 
 hot while the water was absolutely running 
 down under his clothes. 
 
 Ah, a chill now ! Unmistakably a chill, 
 and he could see no sign of human habi- 
 tation anywhere — no place which could 
 afford him shelter. In fact, he could 
 make nothing whatever out except the 
 rain, and that was revealed to him by 
 the sense of touch, not by the sense of
 
 208 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 sight. How cold the rain was, too ! He 
 had never felt rain so cold. The air 
 must then be twenty degrees colder than 
 it had been a few minutes ago. He had 
 never until now experienced so sudden a 
 fall of temperature. 
 
 He was shivering, too. His teeth were 
 chatteriDg. How delighted he would be 
 to find any kind of shelter, and a good 
 fire to warm himself at ! This was very 
 lonely and wretched. He was hardly able 
 to walk now, and yet with his present 
 chill anything was better than to stand. 
 The thought of sitting down was out of 
 the question. No one but a madman 
 would sit down in such rain, and with 
 clothes soaked through. He had been 
 miserably wrong to uncover his head for 
 so Ions: a time. To that foolish act must 
 be attributed this chill. Ugh ! he was 
 barely able to stagger along. This was
 
 ALFRED PAULTON'S WALK. 209 
 
 the most dismal night he had ever passed 
 in all his life. 
 
 But uncovering his head to the rain 
 was not the only foolish thing he had 
 done this night. Had he not wandered 
 sillily along some roads — he knew not 
 where — until he had lost his way ? Now 
 he was far from lamplight — where he knew 
 not ; whither to turn he could not decide 
 if he had a choice. At present he every 
 now and then ran up against the hedge, 
 and this was the only thing which told 
 him he was walking on a road. 
 
 He wondered what o'clock it was. When 
 did he leave that dreadful room where 
 the inquest had been held? He could 
 not tell, but it was the moment Blake's 
 evidence was over. The moment Blake 
 moved from the table at which the coroner 
 sat, he had stolen away, and, he thought, 
 run a good while, until he was out of 
 
 VOL. i. p
 
 210 TEMPEST-TOSSED. 
 
 breath. How long that was since he 
 could not tell — could not guess. 
 
 Merciful Heavens ! Suppose the night 
 was yet young — suppose it was now no 
 more than midnight, or eleven, or ten 
 o'clock — what was to become of him % 
 There would be no daylight until close to 
 seven. Could it be that he would have 
 to wander on thus for eight or ten hours 
 more ? The thought was absurd. He 
 should drop down of exhaustion, of cold, 
 long before that time. 
 
 Cold ! Why, what could be the mean- 
 ing of this ? Already the feeling of 
 cold was passing away, and he felt quite 
 warm — very hot. This was an improve- 
 ment on the sensation a little while 
 ago. 
 
 No matter whether he felt hot or cold 
 now, this day had done him one invalu- 
 able service. It had cured him of any 
 romantic feeling he had had for that
 
 ALFRED PAOLTON'S WALK 211 
 
 strangely beautiful woman. Now all that 
 had happened in that room where the 
 inquest had been held came back vividly 
 to him. Murder had been done, and 
 there could be no doubt in the mind of 
 any reasonable man that Blake had done 
 
 the awful deed, and that she No, 
 
 no ; he mustn't think that even now. It 
 was plain, at all events, that Blake had 
 once been loved by her, and there was 
 nothing to show that she was now indif- 
 ferent to Blake. Had she not supported 
 his absurd theory respecting the death of 
 the man who had been murdered ? 
 
 The heat was becoming bad again — 
 worse than ever. His head was burning. 
 It felt as though a cap of tight-fitting 
 metal pressed upon it. The cold of a 
 little time back was hard to endure, but 
 it seemed a positive pleasure compared 
 with this awful sensation of bursting at
 
 212 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 the temples. He must have relief some 
 way, any way, no matter at what cost 
 in the future. 
 
 Off with the hat again. The rain did 
 not cool so quickly or so effectually, but 
 it afforded great alleviation. There was no 
 positive sense of pleasure from it now — 
 only a dulling, deadening of a feeling which 
 was not exactly pain, but gave rise to a 
 helpless, lethargic state of brain. 
 
 His limbs w r ere heavier than they had 
 yet seemed, and he had great difficulty 
 in persuading himself that the water 
 which rose no higher than an inch on 
 the road was not tenacious mud half a 
 foot deep. 
 
 Keep on thus for several hours ! Im- 
 possible ! One might as well expect to 
 walk for the same time on red-hot plough- 
 shares. 
 
 Oh, he felt sick and weary beyond 
 endurance ! No light to be seen — nothing
 
 ALFRED PAULTON'S WALK. 213 
 
 whatever visible. And along this road 
 no succour was likely to come, while the 
 rain poured down as though a second 
 destruction of earth by water was at 
 hand. 
 
 What ! — cold again so soon ! Distract- 
 ing ! Maddening ! 
 
 Ah, this was fever — fever of some awful 
 kind — and no help at hand. He could 
 not keep on another hour. Bah ! — not 
 half-an-hour. 
 
 Merciful heavens, what was this ? Lights 
 and the sounds of horses and the shouts of 
 men ! 
 
 He felt himself knocked down. With a 
 prodigious effort he staggered to his feet 
 and cried out : 
 
 " Help ! — for heavens sake, help ! " 
 
 Succour had arrived at the last mo- 
 ment.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 " I SHALL BE READY FOR MY DEATH WHEN 
 THEY ARE READY FOR IT ! " 
 
 That evening, when Kichard Pringle ascer- 
 tained Alfred Paulton had left the " Wolf- 
 dog Inn," he came to the conclusion that 
 he had hastened home with an account 
 of the day's proceedings. He resolved to 
 go and seek Mrs. Davenport at once. 
 
 He had ordered a carriage to be in 
 readiness to take her and him back to 
 London. Since she had finished giving 
 her evidence, she had remained in the 
 private room upstairs. The rain was 
 now falling heavily.
 
 "I SMALL BE READY," ETG. 215 
 
 As the solicitor stood on the doorstep 
 under the portico bidding Jerry O'Brien 
 good-evening, he saw the two men, who 
 looked like stable-helpers, go up to Tom 
 Blake and speak to him. He had noticed 
 these men during the day, and when he 
 saw them speak to Blake, he knew what 
 their business with him was. 
 
 On a motion from one of the two, a cab 
 drew up a little way from the door of the 
 inn. Tom Blake and the two men got 
 into it, and the cab drove off. Then 
 Pringle went back into the inn, spoke a 
 few words to the police inspector, and 
 sent up word to Mrs. Davenport that he 
 and the carriage were ready. 
 
 In a few minutes she came down, look 
 ing as calm and impassible as ever. With 
 some commonplace remarks about the rain, 
 he handed her in, and then took his seat 
 beside her. 
 
 For a while they drove in perfect silence
 
 216 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 She broke it by asking what had occurred 
 since she left the room downstairs. 
 
 He briefly told her the substance of 
 Blake's evidence, softening down the senti- 
 mental portions as far as they had relation 
 to herself, but setting forth fully and fairly 
 the salient points of his history. 
 
 She listened without a word. She had 
 heard the coroner say the inquiry would 
 not close that day. She therefore knew 
 nothing final was to be decided imme- 
 diately. But although Pringle knew she 
 was aware of this, he was surprised that 
 upon his ending she said nothing, made 
 no comment, seemed but sparingly inte- 
 rested, although she listened with atten- 
 tion. At last he thought best to volunteer 
 something. 
 
 (i I am afraid," he said, " that although 
 we may be able to corroborate every word 
 of Mr. Blake's, as far as facts are concerned,
 
 "I SHALL BE BEADY," ETG. 217 
 
 ilia hypothesis will not have much influence 
 with the jury." 
 
 " Why ? " 
 
 "Did you know Mr. Blake got money 
 from Mr. Davenport on the very night of 
 the 17th?" 
 
 In the darkness of the carriage here, 
 he was free from the spell of her 
 beauty, and spoke in a purely professional 
 tone. 
 
 "I did," she answered. "Mr. Blake 
 told me." 
 
 " That admission took me by surprise. 
 It would greatly facilitate the discharge 
 of my duty towards you if you would 
 even now take me a little more fully into 
 your confidence." 
 
 " There is nothing farther to tell — 
 nothing further to conceal," she said, in 
 a slow, emotionless voice. 
 
 He threw himself back, and did not
 
 -218 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 speak at once. At length he moved 
 uneasily in his place, and said, after 
 deliberation : 
 
 " I appealed to you once, and cautioned 
 you several times. I may now tell you, 
 as a matter of certainty, not as a matter 
 of my own personal opinion, but of 
 ascertained fact, that the theory of what 
 I must now call the defence will not 
 stand a trial, and that a trial there will be." 
 
 " I have nothing to add," she said, in 
 an unmoved tone. 
 
 " Up to this I have not told you the 
 most unpleasant, the most significant and 
 alarming fact of all." 
 
 " What is that ? " — in the same voice. 
 
 "I hope you will try and face the 
 horrible position with fortitude. I spoke 
 of a trial as now inevitable." 
 
 " You mean something more than this 
 inquest ? " — in the same tone, but a little 
 more deliberately.
 
 "I SHALL BE BEADY," ETC. 219 
 
 "Yes. This is only an inquiry into 
 the place, time, and cause of death. No 
 one is on trial for a crime as yet." 
 
 "You mean" — without any variation in 
 •accent — " that some one will be tried for 
 the murder of my late husband ? " 
 
 He was silent. 
 
 She put her next question in a perfectly 
 oold and steady manner : 
 
 "You mean that I will be tried for the 
 murder of my late husband ? " 
 
 " Great heavens — no ! " he cried, throwing 
 himself forward with a violent start. 
 " Who put such a monstrous thought 
 into your head ? " 
 
 Although the thought had frequently 
 occurred to him, from her lips, and now, 
 it came to him with a powerful shock. 
 
 "You." 
 
 " I — I put such a thought into your 
 head ! Mrs. Davenport, you cannot mean 
 what you say ? It is too dreadful ! "
 
 220 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 " I will not say you ever put the thought 
 in as precise words as I have used ; but 
 at our first meeting it was in your mind, 
 and at our first meeting it entered my 
 mind that you considered it at all events 
 possible that I might be tried for the 
 murder of my husband. You need not 
 be afraid of shocking me. Nothing can 
 shock me now. What is the important 
 fact you are keeping back ? I wish to 
 know it at once." 
 
 " Mr. Blake has been arrested this 
 evening:. He was arrested as he left the 
 'Wolfdog Inn.'" 
 
 " Is that all ? " 
 
 " All ! Why, it is a matter of life and 
 death with him, as things now look. He 
 must have been mad to give the evidence 
 he did to-day." 
 
 " And when am I to be arrested ? Or 
 perhaps I am already arrested, and the 
 driver is a policeman ? "
 
 " I SHALL BE READY," ETC. 221 
 
 " No, no. Nor is there, as far as I can 
 see, a likelihood of anything so horrible 
 taking place." 
 
 " Neither the trial nor the scaffold would 
 have the least horror for me now, I shall 
 be ready for my death when they are 
 ready for it. This is my place — for the 
 present, at all events." 
 
 They had arrived in Jermyn Street, 
 and she alighted.
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE VEEDICT. 
 
 It was a strange room, large and bright and 
 fresh. The air of it was cool without being 
 cold. After all, was it a strange room ? 
 Had he not seen it, or something like it, 
 before ! But perhaps it was in a dream 
 he had seen that other room. A dream ? 
 Much of what had been resembled a dream. 
 Did not all the past look like a dream ? 
 How was one to know whether the past 
 had been dream or reality ? He could 
 not say. At all events, he was too tired 
 to decide any difficult question. He would 
 go to sleep now — at least he would shut
 
 THE VERDICT. 223; 
 
 his eyes. That bright, cold glitter of 
 winter sunlight pained his eyes. 
 
 If before falling asleep, and while his 
 eyes were thus closed and his body at 
 rest, he could get a drink of cool, sweet 
 water, how deliciously refreshing it would 
 be! 
 
 How hot he was ! It wasn't an agree- 
 able kind of heat, but a dull, dead, 
 smouldering heat that parched his skin, 
 his tongue, his bones, his marrow. 
 
 Why, it was hotter than it had been 
 last night on the road ! 
 
 On the road ! Last night ! What did 
 all that mean ? Oh, he was too tired to 
 think any more. Let him try to rest — 
 to sleep. 
 
 Dusk. Yes, there could be no doubt 
 the daylight was fading. At this time 
 of the year the days were short. He 
 had been asleep some time, for the last 
 thing he remembered was that it was
 
 224 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 full daylight. He was then in some 
 difficulty as to this room. He was under 
 the impression it was a strange room. 
 Could a more absurd idea enter the mind of 
 man ? Is it possible he could not identify 
 his own bed-room ? What would come 
 next ? What should he forget next t 
 His own name, no doubt. 
 
 The thirst continued. It was even 
 greater than it had been. He could 
 get water if he went to the dressing- 
 table. But, strange as it might seem, he 
 had the greatest desire to go to the table 
 and drink the water, but not the will. 
 How was that ? Why did he not spring 
 out of bed and quench his thirst? 
 
 It was easy to think of springing out 
 of bed, but quite impossible to do any- 
 thing of the kind. Why, he could not 
 move his feet or hands with ease. Ah, 
 yes, it was quite plain ! He had been 
 ill — very ill. That would account for
 
 TEE VERDICT. 225 
 
 all — for the confusion in awaking, the 
 thirst, the weakness. How long had he 
 been ill, and what had ailed him ? 
 
 This thirst was no longer tolerable. He 
 must drink. 
 
 " Water ! " 
 
 How thin and weak his voice sounded ! 
 It was almost ridiculous. If anything 
 could ever again be ridiculous, his voice 
 was. But nothing could ever again be 
 ridiculous. Everything was serious and 
 dull, and would so continue from that 
 time forward. It was strange no one 
 came. If he had been ill they would 
 hardly leave him alone. He must try 
 again. 
 
 " Water ! " 
 
 Instantly a figure stood between his eyes 
 and the fading light in the window. 
 
 "You are better, Alfred?" 
 
 "Yes, Madge. Water." 
 
 His sister poured out some, and handed 
 
 VOL. 1. Q
 
 226 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 him the glass. He drank with avidity,, 
 and felt refreshed. 
 
 " I have been very ill, Madge ? " 
 
 " Yes, Alfred ; but you will be all right 
 in a short time, now that you have begun 
 to mend. So Dr. Santley says." 
 
 Dr. Santley ! Ah, that name set memory 
 afoot. He lay pondering, still unable to 
 see distinctly the matters he wished. 
 
 " How long have I been ill, Madge \ " 
 
 " Several days." 
 
 " I have been unconscious ? " 
 
 " Yes. But you are sure to be quite 
 well in a little time." 
 
 "I am not anxious about the future. 
 I am trying to recall the past." 
 
 "You are not to speak much, and you 
 are on no account to excite yourself." 
 
 " I must be in possession of the facts 
 of the past before I can rest. Tell me 
 what has happened — what happened just
 
 THE VERDICT. 227 
 
 "before I fell ill ? I have had fever, and 
 been delirious. " 
 
 " You have ; but you must keep quiet, 
 or I shall go away." 
 
 " I must know what took place before 
 my illness, if I am to be at ease. There 
 was some trouble about the law — some 
 inquiry. What was it ? " 
 
 " Dr. Santley has forbidden me to speak 
 of that matter. You have been very ill, 
 and your recovery depends on your keeping 
 from excitement." 
 
 " I must know. I shall become delirious 
 again if you do not tell me." 
 
 " My dear, dear Alfred, I cannot — I must 
 not. You don t fancy for a moment I 
 am going to help you back into illness ! 
 You shall know all in a little time ; and 
 now I must run away and tell father 
 and mother and Edith of the good change 
 in you." 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 "Send Edith to me, or mother. Either 
 will tell me." 
 
 "You are not to see any one but me 
 to- clay until Dr. Santley comes. There's 
 a dear fellow — rest content until I come 
 back to you. Already you have talked 
 too much." 
 
 She left the room in spite of his cry 
 of protest and entreaty. 
 
 In a slow, hopeless, helpless way his mind 
 began working again. Little by little some 
 figures of the past reappeared, but not the 
 central one, the main incident. He knew 
 an event of eminent unpleasantness had 
 occurred, and he knew it did not concern 
 any member of his own family. He knew 
 it did not concern himself closely, and yet 
 that he had a profound interest in it. 
 Santley was mixed up with it in one 
 way or another, but how he could not 
 tell. The law had been invoked ; but in 
 what manner or in whose regard was
 
 THE VERDICT. 229 
 
 concealed from him. He had a faint 
 memory of a crowded room. Only one 
 figure stood out boldly, and that Tom 
 Blake's. He knew his name, and could 
 describe him with minute accuracy ; but 
 why this man and his name were so 
 clearly defined in his recollection he could 
 not tell. Around Blake shone a fierce 
 light ; but whence it came or why it was 
 there he could not say. He felt Blake 
 had to do with the legal matter ; but in 
 what relation or capacity he could not 
 determine. 
 
 At length he resolved to give up trying 
 to solve the riddle, and to go to sleep 
 again. It seemed better to go asleep and 
 forget everything than to lie awake re- 
 membering imperfectly. 
 
 A shaded lamp was burning in the room 
 when he again awoke. His mind was 
 now more vigorous and clear. Still there 
 was great confusion and uncertainty. He
 
 230 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 called, and his sister Madge got up and 
 came to him with a basin of arrowroot. 
 She told him that Dr. Santley had called 
 and seen him while he slept, and that 
 he was going on very well indeed, but 
 that there was no use in his asking 
 questions ; and, in fact, that he was not 
 to talk at all, but rest perfectly quiet, 
 take his food and go to sleep again — 
 sleep and food being his chief needs now. 
 
 Young Paulton protested and expostu- 
 lated, but in vain ; so he was left in 
 the same state of vague uncertainty which 
 he was in when he awoke. 
 
 Next morning, as soon as he opened his 
 eyes, all that had been lost came back to 
 him in a flash. Nothing was wanting. 
 The repose of the night and the food had 
 invigorated his brain, and allowed it to 
 fill in the gaps which existed the night 
 before. 
 
 Madge was not in the room when he
 
 THE VERDICT, 231 
 
 awoke. The moment she came back he 
 said : 
 
 " My memory was quite cloudy yester- 
 day ; it is as clear as ever it was to-day. 
 I now remember everything. I can recall 
 my walk in the rain. How long have I 
 been ill ? " 
 
 "This is the sixth day." 
 
 "The sixth day! Good heavens! Six 
 days ! Then the inquest is over ? " 
 
 "Yes. You must not talk much or 
 excite yourself at all. You may, however, 
 talk a little more than yesterday, for you 
 are getting on famously.' ' 
 
 "For goodness' sake, tell me about the 
 inquest, and don't talk of me and my 
 health. No, I won't taste breakfast until 
 you tell me. What was the verdict ? " 
 
 "Dr. Santley said you might be 
 answered questions to-day if you promised 
 not to excite yourself. Do you promise 
 to keep calm, Alfred ? "
 
 232 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 " Oh, yes. Go on." 
 
 "The verdict was that he committed 
 suicide while of unsound mind." 
 
 " Suicide while of unsound mind ! Are 
 you sure ? " 
 
 " Oh, perfectly." 
 
 " Does Santley know the verdict ? " 
 
 " Of course." 
 
 " And what does he say ? " 
 
 " That it is the most extraordinary case 
 he ever read or heard of."
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 JERRY O'BRIEN'S PROPHECY. 
 
 When Dr. Santley called that day, he 
 found his patient in a state of agitation. 
 Madge Paulton had given her brother an 
 outline of the proceedings at the second 
 sitting of the inquest; but she could not 
 tell him all, and she considered it would 
 be injudicious, to say the least of it, to 
 read a report of the trial aloud to him 
 until she got permission from the doctor. 
 Besides, the report was gruesome and 
 full of technicalities. 
 
 No sooner had Dr. Santley entered 
 the sick room than Alfred began a string
 
 234 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 of impatient and somewhat incoherent 
 questions; so Santley thought it better 
 to allay the excitement at the expense 
 of a little fatigue to his patient, still he 
 absolutely forbade the long report to be 
 read to him. 
 
 "But," said the doctor, "there is a 
 leading article in the paper, and the 
 middle paragraph of that gives briefly an 
 account of the case from the point at 
 which the enthralling interest begins. You 
 may read that aloud to your brother, 
 Miss Paulton, and then T insist upon his 
 remaining almost silent for the remainder 
 of the day." 
 
 When Santley was gone, Madge fetched 
 the newspaper, and read aloud : 
 
 "We now reach the most extraordinary 
 point in this extraordinary case. The 
 evidence here is sufficient to convince 
 the most incredulous. Beyond all doubt, 
 when Mr. Blake left the house there was
 
 JERRY O'BRIEN'S PROPHECY. 235 
 
 nothing unusual the matter with the 
 deceased unfortunate gentleman. After 
 that it would seem that he must have 
 had an attack of the old mania respect- 
 ing which Mr. Blake gave evidence. 
 While under this morbid influence he 
 must have conceived the idea of com- 
 mitting suicide, for he wrote on one 
 leaf of his pocket-book these words : 
 
 " C I will not endure this any longer. 
 They have conspired to rob and murder 
 me. But I will evade them for good. In 
 ten seconds more I shall empty the chloro- 
 form on my beard. In twenty minutes 
 I shall be dead. — Louis Davenport/ 
 
 "This is unmistakably in the handwriting 
 of the deceased. The piece of paper on 
 which it is written corresponds with a 
 blank in Mr. Davenport's pocket-book. 
 The writing was done with a metal pencil, 
 and the paper is remarkably tough. When 
 he had finished the writing, he carried
 
 236 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 out his threat of spilling the chloroform- 
 over his beard and waistcoat. Between 
 this and the time during which the drug^ 
 began to exercise its fatal influence he 
 must have changed his mind, not, indeed, 
 as regards suicide, but as regards his 
 confession ; for he swallowed the piece 
 of paper on which the confession was 
 written, and wrote on another leaf in- 
 the same book these words : 
 
 "'Pretended death. Blake gone. Her 
 emptied chloroform on me. Cant stir.. 
 Dying' 
 
 "At the post-mortem examination the 
 former paper was produced. It had been 
 masticated and swallowed. The other leaf 
 of the pocket-book had been found in the 
 waistcoat-pocket of deceased. The cer- 
 tainty of the former leaf having been 
 written first rests on the fact that the-
 
 JERRY O'BRIEN'S PROPHECY. 237 
 
 latter leaf has on it a faint but sufficient 
 trace of the writing on the former, the 
 degree of force used in writing the longer 
 communication being sufficient to mark 
 the leaf following. The post - mortem 
 clearly proved that chloroform was the 
 cause of death." 
 
 This was astonishing news. By it not 
 only was all shadow of suspicion removed 
 from Mrs. Davenport, but Blake was vindi- 
 cated. The stories told by Mrs. Daven- 
 port and Blake had been confirmed in 
 the most amazing and unexpected manner. 
 It seemed little short, if at all short, of a 
 miracle. This strange account of deceased's 
 mental illness in Florence was true. Who 
 placed any value whatever on it when it 
 was given by Blake on oath ? It then 
 seemed nothing better than an audacious 
 and unnecessary lie. It had turned Alfred 
 sick while he listened to it. As he heard 
 that self-possessed, aggressive man give
 
 238 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 evidence, be felt the toils closing round 
 the unhappy woman. Now, in all likeli- 
 hood, these toils had for ever vanished 
 into air, and Mrs. Davenport was as free 
 from suspicion of complicity in her hus- 
 band's murder as though the two had never 
 in all their lives met. 
 
 He asked his sister if she knew any- 
 thing about Mrs. Davenport. Madge had 
 an idea that Mrs. Davenport was still 
 staying at Jermyn Street. Young Paulton 
 asked nothing about Blake. He was not 
 concerned about him. 
 
 It was very hard to be obliged to lie 
 
 inactive here while He paused 
 
 to think. While what ? That question 
 staggered him. The interest in the in- 
 quest was all over, and no other trial was 
 likely to arise out of the matter. Acci- 
 dent had for a while connected him with 
 some affairs of Mrs. Davenport, and now 
 that accident was at an end. There was no
 
 JERRY O'BRIEX'S PROPHECY. 239 
 
 longer any chance of his being of use to 
 her. Nothing could be more natural than 
 that she had forgotten him by this time. 
 In the excitement and heat of that ordeal 
 there was nothing more likely than that 
 she should forget him absolutely. 
 
 But the case was different with him. 
 He could not forget her. He could never 
 forget her — no, not if he lived a hundred 
 years. Were they destined to meet never 
 again ? That was a dreary question to ask 
 and have to leave un answered, while he lay 
 weak and powerless here. 
 
 He should get well no doubt in time, 
 but this in time was such a weary, dead, 
 tedious thing. It would be infinitely de- 
 pressing and irksome to have to live here 
 day after day pulling up strength. How 
 was it possible for him to recover if 
 his mind were haunted by doubts and 
 anxieties ? 
 
 Doubts about what ? Anxieties about
 
 240 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 whom ? He was not in love with this 
 woman. The notion of being in love with 
 her was absurd. He had seen her but on 
 three occasions, and then the meetings had 
 been brief and full of anything but tender- 
 ness. He had heard and thought much of 
 her in the few days since their first meet- 
 ing. He should never forget their first 
 meeting. Could he ever blot out from his 
 memory the regal beauty and pose of her 
 as she stood in that dreary hall and pointed 
 out the room in which her husband lay 
 dead ? Ah, well, nothing could come of 
 such thinking now ! 
 
 He wondered where was Blake at this 
 moment, while he lay there on his back 
 looking at the thin light of the February 
 day. However, there was nothing for it 
 but to submit. He was too weak to stand. 
 He must try and rest contented for a while. 
 But Dr. Santley did not think he would be 
 able to move about for a month, and even
 
 JERRY O'BRIEN'S PROPHECY. 241 
 
 then not much, as the weather would be 
 greatly against him. 
 
 He was this day allowed to see his 
 family for a little while. Before his father 
 left the room he had got his promise 
 to call at Jermyn Street and make in- 
 quiries. Next evening his father came 
 up to his room. He had called at Jermyn 
 Street, and seen Mrs. Davenport. She 
 was quite well : was sorry to hear Alfred 
 had been ill. Mr. Pringle had told her. 
 Her plans were not quite settled, but she 
 thought she should leave London for the 
 Continent in a few days. She did not 
 say what part of the Continent she pur- 
 posed going to. That was all. 
 
 The person outside the family whom 
 Alfred wished to see first was Jerry 
 O'Brien ; and, for reasons of friendliness 
 towards Alfred, and of something a good 
 deal more than friendliness towards Madge 
 Paulton, Jerry was not slow to come. 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 242 TEMPEST - TOSSED. 
 
 The younger Paultons were not remark- 
 able for beauty. The father was much 
 better-looking than the son — the mother 
 than either of the daughters. Father and 
 mother were both decidedly good-looking. 
 Alfred was of the average size of man, 
 upright, well-made, healthy-looking when 
 in health, fresh-coloured, with light hair 
 and beard touched here and there with 
 red, full blue eyes, long nose, white, broad 
 forehead, and useful, large, well-formed 
 hands. He was good-tempered, easy- 
 going, affectionate ; but when once roused 
 or awakened, he was impetuous, headlong, 
 and anything but clear-headed. 
 
 Edith, the elder sister, was short, plump, 
 saucy, often pert, blue-eyed, brown-haired, 
 resolute, aggressive at times, sprightly, 
 short-nosed, with small feet and hands, 
 and no mean opinion of herself, inclined 
 to be discontented, and to under-estimate 
 others.
 
 JERRY O'BRIEN'S PROPHECY. 243 
 
 Madge was tall, thin, dull-complexioned, 
 quiet, unselfish, undemonstrative, good- 
 natured, brown-eyed, and not good-looking 
 by any means. Her amiability was ex- 
 traordinary, her sympathy vast. Jerry 
 O'Brien was not a lady's man. He held 
 that sort of person in contempt. But of 
 one thing he was quite sure — that he was 
 disposed, anxious, to be one lady's man, 
 and that lady was Madge Paulton. 
 
 As soon as Alfred and Jerry were alone, 
 the former began making inquiries about 
 Mrs. Davenport. 
 
 " She's in Jermyn Street yet," said Jerry. 
 " I saw her this morning as I came along. 
 I don't think they have let Blake out of 
 gaol yet. It's a pity they ever should 
 do so. I don't think there could be any 
 act of Christian charity more acceptable 
 to heaven than to hang him. I'd do it 
 myself with pleasure if I could manage it 
 without touching the blackguard's neck.
 
 244 TEMPEST- TOSSED. 
 
 The gallows never lost such a chance as 
 this was. Why, during the first day of 
 the inquest I could hear them knocking 
 the nails into a gibbet, and now, or in a 
 day or two, he will be a free man. It's a 
 horrible shame ! " 
 
 " I don t care about him. I want to 
 hear something of her." 
 
 "Oh, you do — do you ? Not quite 
 cured yet. Well, I'll tell you my opinion. 
 She has announced her intention of going 
 to the Continent. She will wait until 
 he is discharged, and then be off with 
 
 him Alfred, what's the matter ? He 
 
 has fainted ! " 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 CHARLES DICKENS AND BVANS, CBY8TAL PALACH PBE8S. 
 
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