CHAPTER XII

CUPID'S GARDEN

That night Hench awoke during the small hours of the morning with the conviction that he knew all about the mystery in which he was involved. He had fallen asleep much exercised in his mind so far as the visit of Madame Alpenny to Cookley Grange was concerned. He remembered that about the time mentioned by Gwen the Hungarian lady had gone away from Bethnal Green, presumably to procure an engagement for Zara in a West End music-hall. Certainly that might have been one very good reason why she had remained absent for a few days, but now it appeared that there was another, which had to do with Madoc Evans. When unconsciousness came Owain was still wrestling with the problem, and somehow it seemed that the same was solved during slumber. But with the working of his physical brain the scheme broke up, and he was only able to retain fragments. These he proceeded to piece together while staring at the ceiling through the faint twilight of the already dawning day. It was rather a difficult task to put two and two together.

The young man recollected that Madame Alpenny had denied all knowledge of the elder Hench's family history, but recollected also that she had done so with a certain amount of hesitation. It now was borne in forcibly upon him that his father had told the woman much more about his past than she would admit. Probably he had informed her of the quarrel with the grandfather, and of his dislike for the brother, explaining also that Madoc enjoyed Cookley Grange and the large income for life. The word "Rhaiadr" had brought back the interview clearly to Madame Alpenny's mind, and it was more than probable that she knew Owain would inherit the estate. For that reason she had been agreeable to his paying attentions to her daughter, and for that reason she had paid her visit to Cookley Grange. Hench now quite understood how she had come to see the advertisement and to draw his attention to it. Without the least hesitation he concluded that she had learned from his father where Cookley Grange was situated, and thither she had gone to tell Madoc of her meeting with his pauper nephew. Why his uncle should have put in the queer advertisement and have appointed so strange a meeting-place Owain could not conceive, but he was certain that Madoc had done so, and had used the very word to attract attention which had awakened the Hungarian lady's memory of the twenty-year-old meeting. She was without doubt on the look-out for the advertisement, knowing in which paper it would appear. Thus she had easily been able to show it to him, and having--so to speak--assisted Madoc to lay the trap she had waited results.

Now what puzzled Hench was why Squire Evans should have acted in this very roundabout way to bring about a meeting. An honest man would have either ignored the son of the brother he hated or would have openly invited him as his heir to visit him. Instead of doing this Madoc had behaved mysteriously in making the appointment, and had chosen for the rendezvous a solitary place out-of-doors. It seemed tolerably clear to Owain that his uncle had intended to do him harm; perhaps his idea was to murder him so that he should not inherit. Squire Evans, if the hints of Gwen and the very plain speaking of Mrs. Perage were to be believed, was by no means honest, so it was just possible that he wanted to get his hated heir out of the way. Hench shrunk from this conclusion, but after much thought could come to no other. The unexpected murder of the Squire had prevented his own death taking place.

When the young man rose in the morning he turned the matter over in his mind, both while he was having his bath and while he was getting into his clothes. It then occurred to him that, as Madame Alpenny wished him to inherit so that he might marry Zara, the scheme of Evans would scarcely have suited her. She would have been no party to such a transaction, as such would have rendered void all her plans to get money through the marriage. But Madoc, being crafty, had probably not explained what he intended to do, and Madame Alpenny had returned to The Home of the Muses simply to bring about a meeting which would result in Owain entering into his kingdom on the death of his uncle. As things had turned out that death had taken place very unexpectedly, and Hench wondered if Madame Alpenny believed that he was the criminal. It seemed impossible that she should so believe, as in the first place she was ignorant that he had kept the appointment, and in the second if she was aware she would assuredly have moved in the matter before now. Owain could not understand her silence. The only reason he could conceive why she should remain in the background when things had come to such a pass was that her intention was to come forward when he took possession of the estate. Then--as he thought--she would appear at Cookley Grange with Zara, and if he refused to marry the girl would then accuse him of the murder.

And again Hench remembered how he had been haunted by the feeling of this scheming woman's presence both at his hotel and when he started for Cookley. He had even believed that he had seen her amongst the crowd at Liverpool Street Station. Certainly the feeling was vague and he had been unable to prove that she was actually present on the platform. All the same he was now pretty certain that Madame Alpenny had been watching him, and that she knew he was staying at Cookley. When she thought it was time she would very likely appear to continue her plots. It was all very uncomfortable and unpleasant to a young man who was honest and straight in all his dealings. Against his will he was involved in these sordid schemes, and he did not see any way of extricating himself from their mire. All he could do was to wait until the Hungarian lady took action. Meanwhile he would do his best to try and learn who had actually murdered his uncle. It was for this reason he had so readily agreed to assist Gwen in her search.

The day was very hot, as there was not a cloud in the sky and the sun was blazing like a great jewel in the softly-hued azure. Hench, scorning convention, assumed a tropical kit which he had brought from the warm lands of the equator. In a white linen suit, white shoes and a solar topee, he looked sufficiently noticeable as he made his way to Mrs. Perage's house. The Cookley villagers, accustomed as they were to the eccentricities of tourists, were very much surprised to behold him clothed so strangely. Naturally, being excessively prejudiced, they did not consider the cool comfort of such a garb, and jeered at the young man's common-sense while they sweated in their hot dark apparel. Matrons even came to the doors to remark audibly that his washing-bill must be something enormous. But Hench took no notice of the attention he attracted. He was even glad, as it proved conclusively to him that no one recognized in his spotless dress the rough tramp who was being hunted for far and wide.

At the gate of Mrs. Perage's grounds he met Gwen, likewise clothed in fair white linen with a large straw hat girdled by artificial corn-flowers, as blue as her own eyes. She met Hench with a smile and he smiled also, for each of them considered that the other looked wonderfully handsome. Gwen even said as much with delightfully childish candour, blushing as she spoke.

"How nice you look, Mr. Hench, and what a sensible dress for a hot day."

"I return the compliment," said Owain, standing very straight and slim and saluting her in a strictly military fashion by way of a joke. "But people hereabouts have been making very rude remarks regarding my laundry-bill."

"Of course they would. It is eccentric in England to be comfortable in white clothes. You wouldn't dare to go to London in that suit."

"Try me," said Hench laughing. "I might do it out of dare-devilment, although I am not anxious to attract undue attention."

"Why?" asked the girl, looking at him in what his guilty conscience told him was a searching way.

Conscious that he had said an awkward thing, which he had, having regard to his position, Owain strove to turn it off with a laugh. "I am not vain enough to wish for admiration. I leave that to the Nuts and the Nibs."

"Horrid, conceited young men," said Gwen, as she fell into step beside him. "I do detest that class of person."

"Then I hope you don't think that I belong to the class in question."

"No. You're a man!"

"A very faulty man."

"I hope so. A perfect man would be horrid."

"And a perfect woman?" asked Owain, peeping under her large hat.

"There isn't such a thing."

"There is," he insisted. "I know one, at all events."

"Mrs. Perage would be very flattered if she heard you say that," said Gwen in a demure tone and smiling.

"I don't mean Mrs. Perage, delightful as she is. I mean----"

"Now, don't spoil things with explanations," interrupted Miss Evans quickly.

"Are you to pay all the compliments?"

"I don't pay compliments. I say that you are a man, because you saved my life and don't talk about yourself as those horrid Nuts do. If you were like them I shouldn't ask you to assist me."

Owain nodded comprehendingly. "I hope we will be successful," he said soberly, "but the task is a difficult one!"

"To me more than to you it is difficult," said Gwen, colouring. "For to make you understand I have to say things about my father which I would rather leave unspoken."

"Leave them unspoken," advised Hench coolly. "I have learned quite enough from Mrs. Perage to know that your father was a man who made many enemies. One of them murdered him; which one we have to find out."

"How are we to begin?"

"I hardly know. Perhaps Fate will begin for us," said Hench. He was thinking of Madame Alpenny as Fate. His cousin said nothing more, as her mind was busy considering his remarks, so the two walked on very quietly along the dusty road until they came to the scene of the motor-car adventure. Gwen was about to recall Owain's bravery, but checked herself, lest she should say too much, for her gratitude towards Hench was very strong. Also she saw that he was as attracted by her as she was by him, and thought if she spoke too ardently that he might say things which she did not wish to be said at the present moment. By this time the girl was tolerably certain that the young man loved her, and would probably propose if she gave him the least chance. As she knew little about his worldly position, she did not desire to move too swiftly in matters of love. Much as she loved him and admired him and was grateful to him, yet, like all women, even the most romantic, she had a vein of practical wisdom, which made her look before she leaped. Soon she would know more of Hench with regard to his income, his position, his habits and tastes. Then she would be able to say "Yes" or "No" in accordance with her feelings. They were strong just now, but she did not intend to let them run away with her.

Owain went with Gwen along the path leading out of the churchyard through emerald-hued meadows towards Parley Wood. It was the very same path which he had trodden on that eventful night, and he shivered slightly at the recollection. Fortunately Gwen was too much taken up with her own thoughts to notice this sign of discomfort, which was lucky, since it would have necessitated an untrue explanation. And after that one uncontrollable tremor, Hench braced himself to outward calmness, and trod with apparent carelessness the bye-way which had previously conducted him towards such dire trouble. He was quite glad when the girl branched off along another path skirting the wood. This took them round the corner of the trees and brought them into a narrow lane, where the trees met overhead to shut out the sky. The pair moved through a quiet green twilight with a tall hedge on one side and a mouldering red brick wall on the other.

"This runs round the park," said Gwen, tapping the mellow bricks, "and by following it we come to the gates."

"Is it a large park?" asked Hench, curious to ascertain the extent of his domain.

"Not very large, but very beautiful. So is the house." Gwen heaved a sigh. "I was very, very sorry to leave the Grange, as you may guess."

"Perhaps you will go back to it," suggested Owain, feeling desperately anxious to then and there lay the same at her feet.

"No!" Gwen flushed angrily. "My cousin is sure to take possession soon, and then I can never visit my old home."

"Why not?" Owain averted his face. "Your cousin may be a good sort of chap."

"I don't see how he can be with such a father as he had," retorted Gwen tartly.

Hench was nettled, as he thought that this was unfair. "After all, your father was no angel," he said, also tartly. "Yet look at--you."

"If you are going to pay silly compliments, I shall go back," said the girl sharply. "We are here on business, remember."

"I didn't pay a compliment--at any rate to your father."

"My father was--my father, so there's no use saying anything more. As to my cousin, I'll never set eyes on him, so why talk about him."

"If you stay with Mrs. Perage you are certain to see him."

"I shan't stay with Mrs. Perage. As soon as my cousin arrives I shall go to live in London and enjoy myself. I have five hundred a year of my own, so I can do as I like."

"Why have you remained here so far?"

"Because I wish to learn who murdered my father."

"But I thought you didn't get on with your father?"

"That is no reason why I should allow the beast who murdered him to escape, Mr. Hench," said Gwen quickly. "I wish you wouldn't talk of--but there"--she walked on abruptly--"you don't understand, and I cannot give you plain enough explanations to make you understand. There is our family history to be considered and it is not a pleasant one."

Of course, Owain knew the family history just as thoroughly as the girl by his side, but for obvious reasons he could not tell her so. He could recall nothing in the same creditable to the late Squire, and it was impossible to guess why Gwen should so greatly desire to avenge his death. Even though the dead man was her father, he had proved a particularly unkind one, if Mrs. Perage was to be believed. But before they returned to the village, Gwen was compelled, against her will as it were, to tell him the true reason for the search. Then Owain was no longer astonished that she should prosecute the same, and ask for his assistance.

The two passed through ornate iron gates swung between two mighty pillars of stone, and walked leisurely up a long avenue, which swept round in a curve to lead into a vast open space girdled by the trees of the park. Here, the young man for the first time came face to face with the mansion he had inherited, and silently expressed his admiration. It was a rambling structure of mellow red brick, the patchwork of many generations, and comprising many styles of architecture. And the very incongruity of the same constituted its chief beauty, as the eye was always finding something new and unexpected. Two storeys in height, it possessed a lofty slanting roof of red tiles, weather-worn and picturesque, with many stacks of twisted chimneys and many mullion windows. The whole was draped in dark green ivy, and seemed to be so ancient that it only appeared to be held together by the same. Windows and door were closed, but Gwen informed her companion that Mrs. Capes, her father's old housekeeper, was in charge. To summon her, she rang the bell as they stood in the porch.

"It's a lovely place, isn't it?" she said, watching Owain's eyes roving round. "Very lovely," he assented warmly. "We could be very happy here."

"We!"--Gwen flushed hotly--"what do you mean?" Then it was Hench's turn to flush. "I beg your pardon. I spoke without thinking, you see. What a lucky person your cousin is," he ended artfully.

"I don't envy him his luck," she replied coldly, "and I'm sorry for the place, let alone the people. He is sure to be disagreeable."

"But not knowing him, how can you judge?" protested Owain, much vexed at this persistent hostility.

"I knew my father and I heard all about my Uncle Owain. No good can come out of Nazareth, and no decent man from the Evans family."

Hench inwardly groaned and considered that she would have small mercy on him when she came to realize that he was the wicked heir in question. Madoc Evans must indeed have been a cruel parent to prejudice her so greatly against the race whence she sprung. However, he had little time to consider this question, as the door opened and a stiff, stately old dame in a black silk dress and wearing a lace cap made her appearance. She was a comely woman in spite of her age, and smiled all over her wrinkled face when she beheld the girl.

"La, Miss, I am glad to see you. I thought you were never coming again."

"I wish to show this gentleman the house and grounds," said Gwen, stepping into a large hall, with busts of the Caesars on pedestals ranged on either side. "I suppose my cousin has not yet come?"

"No, Miss," said Mrs. Capes respectfully, and looking at Owain in a puzzled way as though she recognized his face. "The lawyers wrote to tell me that he was coming some time before the end of the year, but they couldn't be sure when."

"Curious," murmured Gwen to herself. "I wonder why he is so slow in coming?"

"Perhaps he thinks you are here and does not wish to turn you out," said Hench, overhearing. "Then I shall write to Mr. Gilberry and tell him that I have left. In fact, I think he knows, as Mrs. Perage said something about having written. Anyhow, I don't want my cousin to show any consideration for me."

"Oh, fie, Miss," said Mrs. Capes reprovingly. "Mr. Evans may be a very nice gentleman, for all we know."

"Ah," said Gwen bitterly, "you worship the rising sun, I see."

Mrs. Capes looked offended. "I worship no one, Miss, but if Mr. Evans turns out to be a nice gentleman, why shouldn't I like him?" She stole a glance at Owain as she spoke, and again he saw something like recognition in her eyes.

Gwen shrugged her shoulders. "Wait here, Mr. Hench, and I shall return soon. I can show you over the house, and we will not need to trouble Mrs. Capes."

She went away in a hurry, while Hench and the housekeeper remained in the hall looking at one another. By this time Owain felt rather uncomfortable, as it seemed that Mrs. Capes recognized him, and he wondered if she was about to denounce him as the much-wanted tramp. Of course the idea was ridiculous, as she had never seen him when he first came to Cookley to keep the appointment of the advertisement. Nevertheless, Hench felt uneasy and pointedly questioned the old woman, so as to set his own mind at rest. "Why do you look at me so intently, Mrs. Capes?" he asked quickly.

"I was thinking how greatly you resemble your father," she answered.

Owain was taken aback. "My father!" he muttered nervously.

"My dear young gentleman, I have been with the family all my life, and knew Mr. Owain Evans as boy and man. I was certain that you were his son the moment I saw you. And when Miss Gwen called you 'Mr. Hench,' of course I was positive. That was the name Mr. Owain took when he went away from his father."

"I am Owain Evans," admitted the young man, seeing that he was discovered; "but I don't wish my cousin to know. She seems to have a prejudice against me."

Mrs. Capes nodded shrewdly. "Mr. Madoc was always speaking against you and your father, sir. No, I won't say a word. Are you----?" She looked searchingly at him.

Hench guessed what she meant. "Yes, I am," he admitted boldly, "very much in love, but if she learns who I am she won't marry me."

"The temper of the family is obstinate," she sighed. "All the same, sir, as you are young and good-looking, I wouldn't give up hope."

"As that means giving up Gwen, you may be certain that I won't. Hush, here she is, Mrs. Capes. Not a word."

"You can trust me, sir," replied the housekeeper, and looked quite pleased at being in the secret of the young Squire's identity. "I'll go now," she added, raising her voice for the benefit of Gwen. "You know your way about, Miss."

"Yes. Don't let us trouble you," replied Miss Evans more graciously, and then the two young people were left alone.

Gwen conducted Hench all over the vast house, showing him into one room after another filled with treasures. The place was very old and the rooms were spacious, while the furniture and the draperies and the carpets, the pictures, statues, carvings, and bric-a-brac were delightfully attractive. After wandering in raw lands, Owain deeply appreciated this real home, with which Destiny had provided him. He thought that if the goddess would only add to her gift by giving him Gwen for his wife, that he would have nothing else to wish for in the wide world. His appreciation and delighted observations pleased Gwen, although she sighed when they emerged again into the sunshine, intending to show him the garden.

"It's horrid to leave it," she said, casting a backward glance at the ancient house. "I envy my cousin."

"I thought you didn't," remarked Owain calmly.

"After seeing my old home again, I do," answered Gwen, passing quickly across the lawn. "Come down here and see the flowers."

The gardens were a paradise of flowers and beautifully laid out. There were all kinds of nooks and arbours in odd corners, and many winding paths which led to pleasant glades. The trees were magnificent, and everywhere the place bloomed with blossoms. Hench was not quite sure if he did not like the gardens even better than the charming house. And what with the colour and scent of flowers, the heat of the day, the silence of the place, and the fact that he was walking long-side the girl he loved, the young man rather lost his head. In a rash moment he quoted Omar Khayyam's verse relative to the wilderness, the wine-cup, the loaf of bread, and of course "Thou!" Gwen blushed and flushed, and threw up her hand to stop him. They were standing near a marble bench under an oak tree, and on this she sat down.

"I wish you would not speak to me like that," she said in vexed tones.

"Why not, when I love you?"

"You can't love in five minutes."

"Romeo and Juliet did."

"Ah, that is in a play. I am talking of real life. We have only known each other a very short time."

"Undoubtedly. But then our introduction made for intimacy at once."

"How unfair," murmured Gwen, looking down. "You are taking advantage of the fact that you saved my life."

"If that is any bar to my loving you, I wish I hadn't."

"Then you would have had no one to love," retorted the girl, who could not help smiling at the speech. Hench saw that smile.

"Gwen, you don't dislike me?" he asked entreatingly.

"No, I certainly do not. I like you, and so does Mrs. Perage."

"Please leave Mrs. Perage out of the conversation. Does your saying that you like me mean that you love me?"

"Liking doesn't mean love."

"It's a step in the right direction, anyhow," said Hench cheerfully. "See here, Gwen, I have little to offer you, but with that little I give my heart. Now if----"

"Don't say anything more just now," interrupted the girl, much distressed. "I cannot answer you."

"You can say yes, or no."

"I don't wish to say no."

"Then that means yes!" cried Hench triumphantly, and his heart beat rapidly.

"No"--Gwen pulled away the hand he had taken--"there is something you must know about me. I did not intend to tell you, but since you have spoken, I must be frank." She drew a long breath, while Owain fixed his brown eyes keenly on her disturbed face. "Have you heard anything against me in the village?"

"No, I have not. But then I don't go into the village much, nor do I attend to gossip. All I know of you comes from Mrs. Bell, and she adores you."

Gwen crossed her feet and folded her hands. "My father and I never got on well together," she said rapidly and in a low voice, looking down as she spoke. "He treated me very harshly, and we very often quarrelled."

"That was not your fault, I swear," cried the lover impetuously.

"No. I can honestly say that it wasn't. But every one knew that we did not get on well together, and when my father was murdered, some people said"--she drew another long breath--"that I--I--murdered him."

She looked up with a frightened glance, as if she expected Hench to turn and fly after hearing such a confession. Instead of doing so, the young man laughed aloud and lifted her from the bench into his arms. "What a silly thing to say," he murmured, pressing her to his breast.

"You--you--don't---believe it?" gasped Gwen, making no attempt to get away.

"Darling, it is not worth my while to answer such a question. I love you and I have done so from the first moment I set eyes on you. Can I believe that the most perfect girl in the world is guilty of anything, much less of such a dreadful crime?"

"But people say----"

"I won't hear another word. Thus I stop your mouth"--and before Gwen was aware, Owain had kissed her full on the lips.

"Oh," she said, half frightened, half delighted, "how can you!" Then suddenly she slipped from his arms. "No! No! Only when you learn the truth about my father's death and end this scandal, will I--will I----"

"Good!" said Owain, quite understanding. "I'll find out the truth and then we will go hand in hand to the church." And a final kiss sealed the compact.