CHAPTER XV

A FRIEND IN NEED

Now that the long-expected blow had fallen, Hench was surprised to find how lightly he had been struck. Madame Alpenny having come at an inopportune moment for him, had made mischief, and for the time being it looked as though she was triumphing. But Owain felt certain that she was afraid; he had seen fear in her eyes when he met her so defiantly. If she had been quite sure of her position, she would not have given him a week to consider matters. It was not difficult to understand why she had done so. For the murder of Evans the woman cared very little, save as a means to force the man she accused to do what she wanted. Her aim was to secure a wealthy son-in-law, and she could only do that by threatening to tell the police about his fatal visit to Cookley. But if he refused to do her bidding and she did tell the police, then, so far as she was concerned, everything was at an end. She would certainly get him into trouble, but she would not have him as her daughter's husband, nor would she get any money. Unwilling to push things too far, Madame Alpenny had therefore compromised by giving Hench seven days of grace.

Of course, at the end of that time, the young man knew that his answer to her would be the same, and then she might revenge herself by acquainting the authorities with her plausible story. But it was questionable if she would do so even then, as the fear in her eyes hinted that she knew more about the crime than she dared to admit. If anything was made public, Hench had an idea that Madame Alpenny might be placed in the dock instead of himself. He could not be sure of this, as even though she had called on Evans to set the advertisement trap, there was nothing to show that she had come to Cookley on the evening of the murder. In that case it would be difficult for her to prove that he had really kept the appointment in Parley Wood. But, as Hench recognized, the fact of the advertisement being addressed to him, together with the undoubted fact that he benefited to the extent of ten thousand a year by the death of his uncle, would undoubtedly throw suspicion on him. The girl at the Bull Inn might remember his voice as that of the tramp; and then the fact of his shaving off his beard would suggest that he had some reason to escape the accusation. On the whole, it was tolerably certain that if Madame Alpenny _did_ go to the police, there would be trouble out of which it would not be easy to emerge scathless. But, owing to his belief that Madame Alpenny knew more about the matter than she would admit, Hench felt sure she would not seek the assistance of the authorities. And in any case he was absolutely safe for one whole week. Much could be done in that time.

It was best, meanwhile, to explain things to Gwen, so that she might be sure of his love. When she learned exactly how he had come to propose to Zara, then she would understand that his desire to marry the dancer had only been the longing of a lonely man for home and companionship. With comprehension of this fact, as Hench devoutly hoped, the love of Gwen would return, and she would stand by him in the coming trouble. He needed all the friends he could gather round him to face things, and particularly felt that having his cousin to defend him would brace him up to defend himself. Without her love the young man felt that it would not be worth while to fight. Ten thousand a year and a clearance of his name from suspicion would not make up for the loss of the girl, who was now all in all to him. Therefore the first thing to do was to win back Gwen's heart; after that the deluge could come, so far as Hench was concerned.

He returned to his lodgings, and glancing through the window, saw Madame Alpenny waddling along the street on her way to the station. She cast one vengeful look on the cottage of Mrs. Bell, but did not attempt to enter, which was another sign that she did not feel herself strong enough to go into details. And, as a matter of fact, such was the case. Madame Alpenny had hoped to dominate Hench immediately, and his defiance had taken her entirely by surprise. Therefore, she had wisely retreated in order to collect herself, and intended to descend on him at the end of seven days with overwhelming proofs of his guilty deed. Hench was relieved when he saw her pass by the cottage, as he did not wish her to enter and make trouble. Also he was relieved because he saw in her passing a confession of weakness. Therefore did he feel much more cheerful and hopeful than he had done for many a long day.

Mrs. Bell explained that a lady had called to see her lodger and that she had sent her on to the churchyard, whither Hench had intimated he was going. She hoped that she had not done wrong. Owain told her that the visitor had only come down to see him on business; that the business had been easily dispatched; that the lady had returned to London, and that Mrs. Bell had acted quite judiciously.

The little pale woman accepted the explanation in all good faith, and then went to open the door for the entrance of another lady. Hench, busy with his afternoon tea, was not surprised when Mrs. Perage entered, full of wrath. He had rather expected she would come, as it occurred to him that Gwen's unexpected return from the churchyard would lead to questions and explanations. From the very first remark of Mrs. Perage, it was certain that she knew all about the matter.

"Well," said the fierce old lady, who looked something like Meg Merrilees in her half-masculine, half-feminine garb, "this is a nice state of affairs, young man. Gwen goes to meet you with her heart full of love, and returns with that same heart broken into little pieces. Your work."

"Sit down, Mrs. Perage, and let us talk quietly," said Hench entreatingly.

"Talk quietly!" echoed Mrs. Perage, sitting down nevertheless. "Why, I'm seething with rage, and want to break things--you amongst them."

"Then you doubt me?"

Mrs. Perage looked at him with a softer eye, and remembered how she had been prepared to stand by him whatever was said. She had declared as much to Jim Vane, and could do nothing else but fulfil her declaration. "Perhaps you have some excuse, young man?" she said truculently.

"I have no excuse, but I have an explanation," said Hench dryly.

"Then you _did_ propose to that other girl!" shrieked Mrs. Perage furiously.

"Yes. I told you that I----"

"You didn't; you didn't." Mrs. Perage would not give him time to finish his remark. "You told me that you admired another girl, but that she loved some one else, so you went away. Pfui! Do you think that my memory has gone with age?"

"What you say is quite true----"

"That my memory has gone with age?" demanded the old lady acidly.

"No! No! No! But your recollection of what I said about my former----"

"Love-affairs!" interpolated Mrs. Perage, who declined to be suppressed.

"No! No! No!" cried Hench again and earnestly. "I never was in love until I met Gwen. I told you so. But I did say that I admired another girl."

"You didn't say that you had proposed to her," said Mrs. Perage grimly.

"No, I didn't, because----"

"Because you loved her."

"I didn't!" cried Owain, thoroughly exasperated by these constant interruptions. "As I have already stated, I didn't know the meaning of the word love until I met with Gwen."

"Then why did you propose to this Zara creature? One doesn't propose unless love has something to do with the matter."

"Has your experience of life only taught you that much, Mrs. Perage? A man proposes for the sake of money."

"Was this Zara creature rich?"

"No. She was very poor."

"Then you didn't propose to her on that account. Come"--Mrs. Perage spoke in her roughest manner--"don't waste my time. _Why_ did you propose?"

"Because I was a lonely man and wanted a home and a comrade. I had been wandering all over the world by myself, and found life dismal in the extreme. I didn't love Zara Alpenny one little bit. But I admired her as a thoroughly good woman----"

"Oh"--Mrs. Perage rubbed her nose--"she was a good woman, was she?"

"A thoroughly good woman," repeated Hench, again emphasizing his remark. "And when I asked her to be my wife, she told me that I didn't love her, but only wanted a home, adding that she loved some one else. I recognized the truth of her statement with regard to my own feelings, and therefore I went away from Bethnal Green. I still respect her, Mrs. Perage, and if I can forward her marriage with the man of her choice in any way, I will do so. After all, Madame Alpenny wants a rich son-in-law, and I am wealthy enough to smooth matters over in that way for Ned Bracken."

"Who is he?"

"The man Zara loves. And that you may know the worst, let me tell you that she is a dancer at a Bethnal Green music-hall."

"Hum!" said Mrs. Perage, smiling grimly. "And by mentioning her profession and position you think that I will have a bad opinion of her. Fudge! I have met with dancers much better as regards morals than many a woman received at Court. Don't be a fool and think you are talking to an inexperienced girl."

"Well, I did talk to an inexperienced girl," said Hench rather bitterly, "and she has turned on me."

"Why not? You gave her no explanation."

"How could I, when she ran away while I was speaking? I couldn't follow quickly enough, as my foot is yet weak."

"Your ankle, you mean--be careful in your speech." Mrs. Perage rubbed her nose again and her eyes grew calmer. "I'll have a cup of tea if you will have the decency to give me one."

Owain rang for a fresh cup and saucer. "I thought you wouldn't condescend to eat and drink with a pariah."

"Fudge!" said Mrs. Perage again, and very sharply. "Who said you were a pariah, you silly fellow? That's merely hurt vanity on your part."

"How can I help being hurt, when I am so misjudged?"

"Look here." Mrs. Perage bent forward and shook his shoulder. "Are you a man or a twopenny-halfpenny school-girl?"

"I'm an ass," confessed Owain, ashamed of his petty outbreak. "But I have an attack of nerves, I think, owing to my dreadful position."

"Hum!" Mrs. Perage rubbed her nose, received a cup and saucer from Mrs. Bell, who had just entered the room, and sent that fragile person out again. "Jim hinted at trouble. It seems he was right."

"Jim knows all about it."

"Well, then, I don't. Wait till I fill my cup and then you can tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Drat the man, you know. It's more than this trouble with Gwen you have to tell me about."

"I think that I had better tell you about the trouble with Gwen first."

"What's the use of beginning at the wrong end? Relate the story from start to finish and then I'll understand more about this interview in the churchyard with this ridiculous old woman."

"Madame Alpenny."

"Hum! The name fits her. Go on."

"I have already told you most of my life---"

"And have left out the most interesting part, apparently. See here, Hench, or rather, I should say, Owain." Mrs. Perage drank some of her tea and continued slowly. "I am an old woman with a romantic heart. I love Gwen and I have taken a fancy to you. Both you and Gwen come of a bad stock, as old Mynydd Evans was a miser, Owain Evans was a profligate, and Madoc Evans was a scoundrel, fit for any deed of wickedness. You two children are the best of the bunch, and I expect get your decent morals from your mothers. I want to see you happy and married. Now, don't disappoint me."

"I certainly won't, if Gwen won't," said Owain promptly.

"Hum! Gwen is a more difficult person to manage. However, if you leave it to me, I think in some way things will be put right."

"Oh, I shall leave everything to you, with pleasure," said Hench eagerly. "And I thank you for the trouble you are taking. Your advice----"

"Cannot be given further until I am in possession of facts," interrupted Mrs. Perage, and finishing his sentence in a different way. "I know that you are Owain's son and inherit the property. I know that you love Gwen, and that it is possible, in spite of existing circumstances, that you will marry her. Also I am aware that Madoc was murdered--by that tramp, I presume."

"No!" said Hench sharply, and ready to make a clean breast. "I am the tramp."

"Ha!" exclaimed the old lady in a tone of surprise. "You are the tramp? Well, I withdraw my accusation, as I am sure you are innocent enough. But what I was coming to when you interrupted me was that I wish to know more. Jim says you are in trouble."

"In very great trouble. And if you will help me---"

"Bless the man, what I came here for was to help. But I can't do that on half-confidences. You must speak plainly. Now, no more talk. Begin." Hench did as he was ordered, and in a very short time Mrs. Perage was in possession of all facts connected with the advertisement; with the keeping of the appointment and the discovery of the body; and with the schemes of Madame Alpenny. Her strong old face did not betray much emotion, although she was inwardly astonished at the revelations, but she kept her eyes on Owain until he ceased speaking, and then rubbed her nose, as was her custom when perplexed or annoyed. As she made no remark, Hench did so. "What do you think?"

"Hum!" said Mrs. Perage, starting from the brown study in which she was involved. "You've brought your pigs to a pretty market, young man. Well, well, we must see what is best to be done."

"You don't believe me to be guilty?"

"Would I be still sitting here if I did? Don't be a fool. Not that I blame the person who got Madoc out of the way very much. He was such a disagreeable person, that I often thought I'd be hanged for killing him myself."

"Mrs. Perage!"

"It sounds dreadful, doesn't it?" she said good-humouredly. "But then you see I am a dreadful person in the eyes of many milk-and-water people, because I have my own decided opinions and go my own way. I suppose it's wrong to say a word against the dead, although I don't see why we should talk of nothing but virtues they never possessed while alive. Well, let the man rest; he did a lot of harm when he was alive, and wherever he has gone to, he's making mischief. You didn't murder him, anyhow?"

"I certainly did not," answered Hench, smiling. "But the question is, who did?"

"Ah"--Mrs. Perage kilted up her dress and folded her hands on her knees--"a very difficult question to answer. But Madame Alpenny didn't, although you seem to have some idea that she is the guilty person."

"She knew my uncle and all about the disposal of the property through the confidence made to her by my father twenty years ago."

"That doesn't prove that she murdered Madoc. She wanted you to marry her daughter undoubtedly after she laid hold of the clue which led her to learn that you were likely to inherit ten thousand a year. But why should she put her neck in a noose?"

"She might have wished me to get possession of the property at once, and have murdered my uncle in the hope that I would go to the spot and then run the risk of being arrested. I believe myself that it was all a plot to get me under her thumb. I _did_ go to the rendezvous and I _am_ implicated. Well?"

Mrs. Perage rubbed her nose again. "The devil's in it for trouble," she muttered. "Perhaps I am premature in assuming that this woman is innocent, but it seems incredible that she should run such a risk. I shall have to see her first before I make up my mind. She's clever."

"In a foxy sort of way."

"Hum! The fox doesn't do things on a big scale in the way of killing."

Hench answered flippantly, as the conversation was getting on his nerves. "What about hen-roost massacres?"

Mrs. Perage rose, and was about to rebuke him when she saw, as Gwen had seen earlier, the white pinched look on his face. "You're over-wrought, my friend. I want you to promise me two things."

"Yes. What are they?" asked the young man wearily.

"In the first place do not make any move in these matters until I give you leave. I have a plan in my head."

"What is it?"

"I shan't tell it until it is carried out. In the second place do not come to my house until to-morrow afternoon."

"But Gwen will believe more than ever that I am----"

"What she thinks you are in a moment of rage on her part," finished Mrs. Perage. "That's just it. If you see her now you will spoil all. Wait until I tell you that it is safe to come."

"Very well. But I can't let you take my burden on your shoulders and stay here doing nothing. It's not cricket."

"You'll get all the cricket you require, I promise you," said Mrs. Perage as she took her departure. "I don't mind telling you," she added, glancing back, "that it interests me to have something exciting of this sort to do. Life is rather dull hereabouts."

"I only hope it will not prove too exciting."

The old lady laughed and stepped briskly out of the cottage, while Owain remained where he was kicking against the pricks. He wished to see Gwen, but as he had promised to wait for instructions he could not do so. Like the lady who had just left, he found life in Cookley intolerably dull at the moment. But then, as Gwen was not beside him, he would have found it equally dull had he been alone in Paris or London. It was Gwen who made up his existence, and nothing else mattered particularly. To such lengths does the passion of love lead ordinarily sensible human beings.

Meanwhile, Mrs. Perage walked home briskly, turning over certain plans in her very capable mind. She did not seek out Gwen, who was weeping in the retirement of her bedroom, since all explanations at the present moment were futile. But Mrs. Perage decided that when the girl grew calmer a very positive explanation, which could not be mistaken, should be made to her by the right person. To bring about this necessary event she looked up her nephew, whom she found dawdling in the garden with a cigarette and a French novel. Vane lay on the grass under a shady tree clothed in white flannels, and looked rather alarmed when his aunt appeared. The day was hot, and Mrs. Perage was so uncommonly active that she was scarcely a desirable companion for a lazy man. His anxiety was therefore natural.

"Sit up and listen," said Mrs. Perage, getting to work at once. "I've seen our young friend, and I now know as much as you do."

Jim sat up cross-legged, resigned to the worst, and Mrs. Perage seated herself on the rustic bench under the tree with the air of a judge trying a particularly vicious criminal. "Need we discuss matters just now?" he asked in a bored tone. "I'm so comfortable. Peter is bringing me some tea, I have a book and a case of cigarettes, so on the whole----"

"Don't be an ass, Jim. You can be busy enough if you like."

"That's just it, Aunt Emma," remonstrated the barrister, clutching his ankles. "I don't like. There's nothing to be done at present. I'll see Owain this evening and hear how he settled with that old woman."

"He has settled nothing. But he managed to get her to leave him alone for seven days. In that time much can be done."

"Very probably. I'm sure I wish to do all I can. And Gwen?"

"She's crying in her bedroom. She will continue to cry until she is assured that Owain really loves her and not this other girl. You know what I mean?"

"Well, as you related what took place in the churchyard and as Gwen repeated the story to me, I must admit that I do know. I say, Aunt Emma, you don't think Miss Evans minds me calling her Gwen, as I----"

"Oh, don't talk rubbish," interrupted Mrs. Perage quickly. "We have more important things to speak about. This evening you must go to town by the seven train,"--she glanced at her watch. "That will give you time to have dinner comfortably, as you needn't dress."

"But, I say,"--Vane looked rather disgusted,--"I don't want to go to town."

"You must," said his aunt impressively. "Go to Bethnal Green, and bring down with you to-morrow Mademoiselle Zara."

"What for?"

"Bless the man, can't you understand? Only this Zara creature can set Gwen's mind at rest. She can explain that Hench never really loved her and only offered himself to her to gain a home and a companion."

"Can't Owain tell Gwen that?"

"He might tell it to her fifty times and she would not believe him," said Mrs. Perage shrewdly. "But when this girl speaks everything will be put right straight away. Then we can consider what is best to be done about the other and more serious business. But you must see, Jim, that it is first necessary to adjust matters between Gwen and Hench."

"Well, Aunt Emma, you understand your own sex better than I do, so I suppose it is best for me to bring Zara Alpenny down."

"I am quite positive it is."

"Good! I'll enjoy my dinner and then go to town by the train you mention. I can bring Mademoiselle Zara to your house about two o'clock to-morrow. Now that's all right." Vane yawned and rose. "Ah, here comes Peter with the tea."

Mrs. Perage looked rather grimly on the freckled page who carried on a tray the beverage which Mr. Vane desired. Hench had told her how Madame Alpenny had learned his whereabouts through Simon, _alias_ Bottles, and the same could have only acquired the knowledge through Peter.

"Here!" she said sharply. "Do you write to your brother in town and tell him all the gossip of the village?"

"Me, mum? No, mum," said Peter, rather alarmed by her peremptory tone.

"Don't tell lies, boy," said his mistress sternly. "You told your brother that Mr. Hench was staying at Mrs. Bell's cottage."

"I know I did, mum." Peter began to whimper. "But I hope I didn't do no harm, mum. Simon, he thinks no end of Mr. Hench, so I thought as I'd tell him. But it's all right, mum. Simon knows what he's about."

"What do you mean by that?" questioned Vane quickly, for the page spoke in a very significant tone. Peter shuffled and wriggled uncomfortably. "Simon will tell you, sir, when the time comes," he replied evasively.

"Tell what?"

"What Simon knows, sir."

"And what does Simon know?"

"I can't tell you, sir. Simon's clever. He knows a thing or two."

"And so do I," said Mrs. Perage sternly. "And one is that you are not to write gossiping letters from my house."

"No, mum, I won't!" And Peter went away as quickly as he could lest he should be questioned further. "Now what does that mean?" asked Mrs. Perage shrewdly. "Is this brat and his brother mixed up in this dangerous business?"

"It seems like it," replied Jim, stirring his tea meditatively. "But Peter may have written in all innocence, knowing how Bottles adores Owain."

"Bottles, as you call him, didn't tell Madame Alpenny in all innocence," she snapped.

"Hum!" said Vane, quite in his aunt's style, "we'll look into the matter." And he did so on the morrow when he went to Bethnal Green.