Red Money by Fergus Hume (read dune .txt) 📕

Examine The Surroundings.

 

Darby Did So With Keen Eyes And An Alert Brain. The Two Stood On The

West Side Of The Mansion,  Where It Fronted The Three-Miles Distant

Abbot's Wood. The Manor Was A Heterogeneous-Looking Sort Of Place,

Suggesting The Whims And Fancies Of Many Generations,  For Something Was

Taken Away Here,  And Something Was Taken Away There,  And This Had Been

Altered,  While That Had Been Left In Its Original State,  Until The House

Seemed To Be Made Up Of All Possible Architectural Styles. It Was A Tall

Building Of Three Stories,  Although The Flattish Red-Tiled Roofs Took

Away Somewhat From Its Height,  And Spread Over An Amazing Quantity Of

Land. As Darby Thought,  It Could Have Housed A Regiment,  And Must Have

Cost Something To Keep Up. As Wind And Weather And Time Had Mellowed Its

Incongruous Parts Into One Neutral Tint,  It Looked Odd And Attractive.

Moss And Lichen,  Ivy And Virginia Creeper--This Last Flaring In Crimson

Glory--Clothed The Massive Stone Walls With A Gracious Mantle Of Natural

Beauty. Narrow Stone Steps,  Rather Chipped,  Led Down From The Blue Door

To The Broad,  Yellow Path,  Which Came Round The Rear Of The House And

Swept Down Hill In A Wide Curve,  Past The Miniature Shrubbery,  Right

Into The Bosom Of The Park.

 

"This Path," Explained Garvington,  Stamping Again,  "Runs Right Through

The Park To A Small Wicket Gate Set In The Brick Wall,  Which Borders The

High Road,  Darby."

 

"And That Runs Straightly Past Abbot's Wood," Mused The Inspector. "Of

Course,  Sir Hubert Would Know Of The Path And The Wicket Gate?"

 

"Certainly; Don't Be An Ass,  Darby," Cried Garvington Petulantly. "He

Has Been In This House Dozens Of Times And Knows It As Well As I Do

Myself. Why Do You Ask So Obvious A Question?"

 

"I Was Only Wondering If Sir Hubert Came By The High Road To The Wicket

Gate You Speak Of,  Lord Garvington."

 

"That Also Is Obvious," Retorted The Other,  Irritably. "Since He Wished

To Come Here,  He Naturally Would Take The Easiest Way."

 

"Then Why Did He Not Enter By The Main Avenue Gates?"

 

"Because At That Hour They Would Be Shut,  And--Since It Is Evident That

His Visit Was A Secret One--He Would Have Had To Knock Up The

Lodge-Keeper."

 

"Why Was His Visit A Secret One?" Questioned Darby Pointedly.

 

"That Is The Thing That Puzzles Me. Anything More?"

 

Chapter 9 (Afterwards) Pg 81

"Yes? Why Should Sir Hubert Come To The Blue Door?"

 

"I Can't Answer That Question,  Either. The Whole Reason Of His Being

Here,  Instead Of In Paris,  Is A Mystery To Me."

 

"Oh,  As To That Last,  The Reply Is Easy," Remarked The Inspector. "Sir

Hubert Wished To Revert To His Free Gypsy Life,  And Pretended To Be In

Paris,  So That He Would Follow His Fancy Without The Truth Becoming

Known. But Why He Should Come On This Particular Night,  And By This

Particular Path To This Particular Door,  Is The Problem I Have To

Solve!"

 

"Quite So,  And I Only Hope That You Will Solve It,  For The Sake Of My

Sister."

 

Darby Reflected For A Moment Or So. "Did Lady Agnes Ask Her Husband To

Come Here To See Her Privately?"

 

"Hang It,  No Man!" Cried Garvington,  Aghast. "She Believed,  As We All

Did,  That Her Husband Was In Paris,  And Certainly Never Dreamed That He

Was Masquerading As A Gypsy Three Miles Away."

 

"There Was No Masquerading About The Matter,  My Lord," Said Darby,

Dryly; "Since Sir Hubert Really Was A Gypsy Called Ishmael Hearne. That

Fact Will Come Out At The Inquest."

 

"It Has Come Out Now: Everyone Knows The Truth. And A Nice Thing It Is

For Me And Lady Agnes."

 

"I Don't Think You Need Worry About That,  Lord Garvington. The Honorable

Way In Which The Late Sir Hubert Attained Rank And Gained Wealth Will

Reflect Credit On His Humble Origin. When The Papers Learn The Story--"

 

"Confound The Papers!" Interrupted Garvington Fretfully. "I Sincerely

Hope That They Won't Make Too Great A Fuss Over The Business."

 

The Little Man's Hope Was Vain,  As He Might Have Guessed That It Would

Be,  For When The News Became Known In Fleet Street,  The Newspapers Were

Only Too Glad To Discover An Original Sensation For The Dead Season.

Every Day Journalists And Special Correspondents Were Sent Down In Such

Numbers That The Platform Of Wanbury Railway Station Was Crowded With

Them. As The Town--It Was The Chief Town Of Hengishire--Was Five Miles

Away From The Village Of Garvington,  Every Possible Kind Of Vehicle Was

Used To Reach The Scene Of The Crime,  And The Manor Became A Rendezvous

For All The Morbid People,  Both In The Neighborhood And Out Of It. The

Reporters In Particular Poked And Pried All Over The Place,  Passing From

The Great House To The Village,  And Thence To The Gypsy Camp On The

Borders Of Abbot's Wood. From One Person And Another They Learned Facts,

Which Were Published With Such Fanciful Additions That They Read Like

Fiction. On The Authority Of Mother Cockleshell--Who Was Not Averse To

Earning A Few Shillings--A Kind Of Gil Blas Tale Was Put Into Print,  And

The Wanderings Of Ishmael Hearne Were Set Forth In The Picturesque Style

Of A Picarooning Romance. But Of The Time When The Adventurous Gypsy

Assumed His Gentile Name,  The Romany Could Tell Nothing,  For Obvious

Chapter 9 (Afterwards) Pg 82

Reasons. Until The Truth Became Known,  Because Of The Man's Tragic And

Unforeseen Death,  Those In The Camp Were Not Aware That He Was A Gorgio

Millionaire. But Where The Story Of Mother Cockleshell Left Off,  That Of

Mark Silver Began,  For The Secretary Had Been Connected With His

Employer Almost From The Days Of Hearne's First Exploits As Pine In

London. And Silver--Who Also Charged For The Blended Fact And Fiction

Which He Supplied--Freely Related All He Knew.

 

"Hearne Came To London And Called Himself Hubert Pine," He Stated

Frankly,  And Not Hesitating To Confess His Own Lowly Origin. "We Met

When I Was Starving As A Toymaker In Whitechapel. I Invented Some Penny

Toys,  Which Pine Put On The Market For Me. They Were Successful And He

Made Money. I Am Bound To Confess That He Paid Me Tolerably Well,

Although He Certainly Took The Lion's Share. With The Money He Made In

This Way,  He Speculated In South African Shares,  And,  As The Boom Was

Then On,  He Simply Coined Gold. Everything He Touched Turned Into Cash,

And However Deeply He Plunged Into The Money Market,  He Always Came Out

Top In The End. By Turning Over His Money And Re-Investing It,  And By

Fresh Speculations,  He Became A Millionaire In A Wonderfully Short Space

Of Time. Then He Made Me His Secretary And Afterwards Took Up Politics.

The Government Gave Him A Knighthood For Services Rendered To His Party,

And He Became A Well-Known Figure In The World Of Finance. He Married

Lady Agnes Lambert,  And--And--That's All."

 

"You Were Aware That He Was A Gypsy,  Mr. Silver?" Asked The Reporter.

 

"Oh,  Yes. I Knew All About His Origin From The First Days Of Our

Acquaintanceship. He Asked Me To Keep His True Name And Rank Secret. As

It Was None Of My Business,  I Did So. At Times Hearne--Or Rather Pine,

As I Know Him Best By That Name--Grew Weary Of Civilization,  And Then

Would Return To His Own Life Of The Tent And Road. No One Suspected

Amongst The Romany That He Was Anything Else But A Horse-Coper. He

Always Pretended To Be In Paris,  Or Berlin,  On Financial Affairs,  When

He Went Back To His People,  And I Transacted All Business During His

Absence."

 

"You Knew That He Was At The Abbot's Wood Camp?"

 

"Certainly. I Saw Him There Once Or Twice To Receive Instructions About

Business. I Expostulated With Him For Being So Near The House Where His

Brother-In-Law And Wife Were Living,  As I Pointed Out That The Truth

Might Easily Become Known. But Pine Merely Said That His Safety In

Keeping His Secret Lay In His Daring To Run The Risk."

 

"Have You Any Idea That Sir Hubert Intended To Come By Night To Lord

Garvington's House?"

 

"Not The Slightest. In Fact,  I Told Him That Lord Garvington Was Afraid

Of Burglars,  And Had Threatened To Shoot Any Man Who Tried To Enter The

House."

 

All This Silver Said In A Perfectly Frank,  Free-And-Easy Manner,  And

Also Related How The Dead Man Had Instructed Him To Ask Garvington To

Allow The Gypsies To Remain In The Wood. The Reporter Published The

Chapter 9 (Afterwards) Pg 83

Interview With Sundry Comments Of His Own,  And It Was Read With Great

Avidity By The Public At Large And By The Many Friends Of The

Millionaire,  Who Were Surprised To Learn Of The Double Life Led By The

Man. Of Course,  There Was Nothing Disgraceful In Pine's Past As Ishmael

Hearne,  And All Attempts To Discover Something Shady About His

Antecedents Were Vain. Yet--As Was Pointed Out--There Must Have Been

Something Wrong,  Else The Adventurer,  As He Plainly Was,  Would Not Have

Met So Terrible A Death. But In Spite Of Every One's Desire To Find Fire

To Account For The Smoke,  Nothing To Pine's Disadvantage Could Be

Learned. Even At The Inquest,  And When The Matter Was Thoroughly

Threshed Out,  The Dead Man's Character Proved To Be Honorable,  And--Save

In The Innocent Concealment Of His Real Name And Origin--His Public And

Private Life Was All That Could Be Desired. The Whole Story Was Not

Criminal,  But Truly Romantic,  And The Final Tragedy Gave A Grim Touch To

What Was Regarded,  Even By The Most Censorious,  As A Picturesque

Narrative.

 

In Spite Of All His Efforts,  Inspector Darby,  Of Wanbury,  Could Produce

No Evidence Likely To Show Who Had Shot The Deceased. Lord Garvington,

Under The Natural Impression That Pine Was A Burglar,  Had Certainly

Wounded Him In The Right Arm,  But It Was The Second Shot,  Fired By Some

One Outside The House,  Which Had Pierced The Heart. This Was Positively

Proved By The Distinct Evidence Of Lady Agnes Herself. She Rose From Her

Sick-Bed To Depose How She Had Opened Her Window,  And Had Seen The

Actual Death Of The Unfortunate Man,  Whom She Little Guessed Was Her

Husband. The Burglar--As She Reasonably Took Him To Be--Was Running Down

The Path When She First Caught Sight Of Him,  And After The First Shot

Had Been Fired. It Was The Second Shot,  Which Came From The

Shrubbery--Marked On The Plan Placed Before The Coroner And Jury--Which

Had Laid The Fugitive Low. Also Various Guests And Servants Stated That

They Had Arrived