Elster's Folly by Mrs. Henry Wood (buy e reader .TXT) 📕

A Blush Suffused Her Face,  And Lord Hartledon Smiled.

Down Came The Countess-Dowager.

"Here's That Old Dowager Calling To Me. She Never Lets Me Alone. Val Sent

Me Into A Fit Of Laughter Yesterday,  Saying She Had Designs On Me For

Maude. Poor Deluded Woman! Yes,  Ma'am,  I Hear. What Is It?"

Mr. Elster Went Strolling Along On The Banks Of The River,  Towards Calne;

Not With Any Particular Purpose,  But In His Restless Uneasiness. He Had A

Tender Conscience,  And His Past Follies Were Pressing On It Heavily. Of

One Thing He Felt Sure--That He Was More Deeply Involved Than Hartledon

Or Anyone Else Suspected,  Perhaps Even Himself. The Way Was Charming In

Fine Weather,  Though Less Pleasant In Winter. It Was By No Means A

Frequented Road,  And Belonged Of Right To Lord Hartledon Only; But It Was

Open To All. Few Chose It When They Could Traverse The More Ordinary Way.

The Narrow Path On The Green Plain,  Sheltered By Trees,  Wound In And Out,

Now On The Banks Of The River,  Now Hidden Amidst A Portion Of The Wood.

Altogether It Was A Wild And Lonely Pathway; Not One That A Timid Nature

Would Choose On A Dark Night. You Might Sit In The Wood,  Which Lay To The

Left,  A Whole Day Through,  And Never See A Soul.

One Part Of The Walk Was Especially Beautiful. A Green Hollow,  Where The

Turf Was Soft As Moss; Open To The River On The Right,  With A Glimpse Of

The Lovely Scenery Beyond; And On The Left,  The Clustering Trees Of The

Wood. Yet Further,  Through A Break In The Trees,  Might Be Seen A View Of

The Houses Of Calne. A Little Stream,  Or Rivulet,  Trickled From The Wood,

And A Rustic Bridge--More For Ornament Than Use,  For A Man With Long Legs

Could Stride The Stream Well--Was Thrown Over It. Val Had Reached Thus

Far,  When He Saw Someone Standing On The Bridge,  His Arms On The Parapet,

Apparently In A Brown Study.

A Dark,  Wild-Looking Man,  Whose Face,  At The First Glimpse,  Seemed All

Hair. There Was Certainly A Profusion Of It; Eyebrows,  Beard,  Whiskers,

All Heavy,  And Black As Night. He Was Attired In Loose Fustian Clothes

With A Red Handkerchief Wound Round His Throat,  And A Low Slouching

Hat--One Of Those Called Wide-Awake--Partially Concealed His Features. By

His Side Stood Another Man In Plain,  Dark,  Rather Seedy Clothes,  The Coat

Outrageously Long. He Wore A Cloth Hat,  Whose Brim Hid His Face,  And He

Was Smoking A Cigar. Both Men Were Slightly Built And Under Middle

Height. This One Was Adorned With Red Whiskers.

The Moment Mr. Elster Set Eyes On The Dark One,  He Felt That He Saw The

Man Pike Before Him. It Happened That He Had Not Met Him During These Few

Days Of His Sojourn; But Some Of The Men Staying At Hartledon Had,  And

Had Said What A Loose Specimen He Appeared To Be. The Other Was A

Stranger,  And Did Not Look Like A Countryman At All.

Mr. Elster Saw Them Both Give A Sharp Look At Him As He Approached;

And Then They Spoke Together. Both Stepped Off The Bridge,  As Though

Deferring To Him,  And Stood Aside As They Watched Him Cross Over,  Pike

Touching His Wide-Awake.

"Good-Day,  My Lord."

Val Nodded By Way Of Answer,  And Continued His Stroll Onwards. In The

Look He Had Taken At Pike,  It Struck Him He Had Seen The Face Before:

Something In The Countenance Seemed Familiar To His Memory. And To His

Surprise He Saw That The Man Was Young.

The Supposed Reminiscence Did Not Trouble Him: He Was Too Pre-Occupied

With Thoughts Of His Own Affairs To Have Leisure For Mr. Pike's. A Short

Bit Of Road,  And This Rude,  Sheltered Part Of The Way Terminated In More

Open Ground,  Where Three Paths Diverged: One To The Front Of Hartledon;

One To Some Cottages,  And On Through The Wood To The High-Road; And One

Towards The Rectory And Calne. Rural Paths Still,  All Of Them; And The

Last Was Provided With A Bench Or Two. Val Elster Strolled On Almost To

The Rectory,  And Then Turned Back: He Had No Errand At Calne,  And The

Rectory He Would Rather Keep Out Of Just Now. When He Reached The Little

Bridge Pike Was On It Alone; The Other Had Disappeared. As Before,  He

Stepped Off To Make Way For Mr. Elster.

"I Beg Pardon,  Sir,  For Addressing You Just Now As Lord Hartledon."

The Salutation Took Val By Surprise; And Though The Voice Seemed Muffled,

As Though The Man Purposely Mouthed His Words,  The Accent And Language

Were Superior To Anything He Might Have Expected From One Of Mr. Pike's

Appearance And Reputed Character.

"No Matter," Said Val,  Courteous Even To Pike,  In His Kindly Nature. "You

Mistook Me For My Brother. Many Do."

"Not I," Returned The Man,  Assuming A Freedom And A Roughness At Variance

With His Evident Intelligence. "I Know You For The Honourable Percival

Elster."

"Ah," Said Mr. Elster,  A Slight Curiosity Stirring His Mind,  But Not

Sufficient To Induce Him To Follow It Up.

"But I Like To Do A Good Turn If I Can," Pursued Pike; "And I Think,  Sir,

I Did One To You In Calling You Lord Hartledon."

Val Elster Had Been Passing On. He Turned And Looked At The Man.

"Are You In Any Little Temporary Difficulty,  Might I Ask?" Continued

Pike. "No Offense,  Sir; Princes Have Been In Such Before Now."

Val Elster Was So Supremely Conscious,  Especially In That Reflective

Hour,  Of Being In A "Little Difficulty" That Might Prove More Than

Temporary,  That He Could Only Stare At The Questioner And Wait For More.

"No Offence Again,  If I'm Wrong," Resumed Pike; "But If That Man You Saw

Here On The Bridge Is Not Looking After The Honourable Mr. Elster,  I'm A

Fool."

"Why Do You Think This?" Inquired Val,  Too Fully Aware That The Fact Was

A Likely One To Attempt Any Reproof Or Disavowal.

"I'll Tell You," Said Pike; "I've Said I Don't Mind Doing A Good Turn

When I Can. The Man Arrived Here This Morning By The Slow Six Train From

London. He Went Into The Stag And Had His Breakfast,  And Has Been

Covertly Dodging About Ever Since. He Inquired His Way To Hartledon. The

Landlord Of The Stag Asked Him What He Wanted There,  And Got For Answer

That His Brother Was One Of The Grooms In My Lord's Service. Bosh! He

Went Up,  Sneaking Under The Hedges And Along By-Ways,  And Took A View Of

The House,  Standing A Good Hour Behind A Tree While He Did It. I Was

Watching Him."

It Instantly Struck Percival Elster,  By One Of Those Flashes Of

Conviction That Are No Less Sure Than Subtle,  That Mr. Pike's Interest In

This Watching Arose From A Fear That The Stranger Might Have Been Looking

After _Him_. Pike Continued:

"After He Had Taken His Fill Of Waiting,  He Came Dodging Down This Way,

And I Got Into Conversation With Him. He Wanted To Know Who I Was. A Poor

Devil Out Of Work,  I Told Him; A Soldier Once,  But Maimed And Good For

Little Now. We Got Chatty. I Let Him Think He Might Trust Me,  And He

Began Asking No End Of Questions About Mr. Elster: Whether He Went Out

Much,  What Were His Hours For Going Out,  Which Road He Mostly Took In His

Walks,  And How He Could Know Him From His Brother The Earl; He Had Heard

They Were Alike. The Hound Was Puzzled; He Had Seen A Dozen Swells Come

Out Of Hartledon,  Any One Of Which Might Be Mr. Elster; But I Found He

Had The Description Pretty Accurate. Whilst We Were Talking,  Who Should

Come Into View But Yourself! 'This Is Him!' Cried He. 'Not A Bit Of It,'

Said I,  Carelessly; 'That's My Lord.' Now You Know,  Sir,  Why I Saluted

You As Lord Hartledon."

"Where Is He Now?" Asked Percival Elster,  Feeling That He Owed His

Present State Of Liberty To This Lawless Man.

Pike Pointed To The Narrow Path In The Wood,  Leading To The High-Road.

"I Filled Him Up With The Belief That The Way Beyond This Bridge Up To

Hartledon Was Private,  And He Might Be Taken Up For Trespassing If He

Attempted To Follow It; So He Went Off That Way To Watch The Front. If

The Fellow Hasn't A Writ In His Pocket,  Or Something Worse,  Call Me A

Simpleton. You Are All Right,  Sir,  As Long As He Takes You For Lord

Hartledon."

But There Was Little Chance The Fellow Could Long Take Him For Lord

Hartledon,  And Percival Elster Felt Himself Attacked With A Shiver. He

Knew It To Be Worse Than A Writ; It Was An Arrest. An Arrest Is Not A

Pleasant Affair For Any One; But A Strong Opinion--A Certainty--Seized

Upon Val's Mind That This Would Bring Forth Dr. Ashton's Veto Of

Separation From Anne.

"I Thank You For What You Have Done," Frankly Spoke Mr. Elster.

"It's Nothing,  Sir. He'll Be Dodging About After His Prey; But I'll Dodge

About Too,  And Thwart His Game If I Can,  Though I Have To Swear That Lord

Hartledon's Not Himself. What's An Oath,  More Or Less,  To Me?"

"Where Have I Seen You Before?" Asked Val.

"Hard To Say," Returned Pike. "I Have Knocked About In Many Parts In My

Time."

"Are You From This Neighbourhood?"

"Never Was In These Parts At All Till A Year Or So Ago. It's Not Two

Years Yet."

"What Are You Doing Here?"

"What I Can. A Bit Of Work When I Can Get It Given To Me. I Went Tramping

The Country After I Left The Regiment--"

"Then You Have Been A Soldier?" Interrupted Mr. Elster.

"Yes,  Sir. In Tramping The Country I Came Upon This Place: I Crept Into

A Shed,  And Was There For Some Days; Rheumatism Took Hold Of Me,  And I

Couldn't Move. It Was Something To Find I Had A Roof Of Any Sort Over My

Head,  And Was Let Lie In It Unmolested: And When I Got Better I Stayed

On."

"And Have Adopted It As Your Own,  Putting A Window And A Chimney Into It!

But Do You Know That Lord Hartledon May Not Choose To Retain You As A

Tenant?"

"If Lord Hartledon Should Think Of Ousting Me,  I Would Ask Mr. Elster To

Intercede,  In Requital For The Good Turn I've Done Him This Day," Was The

Bold Answer.

Mr. Elster Laughed. "What Is Your Name?"

"Tom Pike."

"I Hear A Great Deal Said Of You,  Pike,  That's Not Pleasant; That You Are

A Poacher,  And A--"

"Let Them That Say So Prove It," Interrupted Pike,  His Dark Brows

Contracting.

"But How Do You Manage To Live?"

"That's My Business,  And Not Calne's. At Any Rate,  Mr. Elster,  I Don't

Steal."

"I Heard A Worse Hint Dropped Of You Than Any I Have Mentioned,"

Continued Val,  After A Pause.

"Tell It Out,  Sir. Let's Have The Whole Catalogue At Once."

"That The Night My Brother,  Mr. Elster,  Was Shot,  You Were Out With The

Poachers."

"I Dare Say You Heard That I Shot Him,  For I Know It Has Been Said,"

Fiercely Cried The Man. "It's A Black Lie!--And The Time May Come When I

Shall Ram It Down Calne's Throat. I Swear That I Never Fired A Shot That

Night; I Swear That I No More Had A Hand In Mr. Elster's Death Than You

Had. Will You Believe Me,  Sir?"

The Accents Of Truth Are Rarely To Be Mistaken,  And Val Was Certain He

Heard Them Now. So Far,  He Believed The Man; And From That Moment

Dismissed The Doubt From His Mind,  If Indeed He Had Not Dismissed It

Before.

"Do You Know Who Did Fire The Shot?"

"I Do Not; I Was Not Out At All That Night. Calne Pitched Upon Me,

Because There Was No One Else In Particular To Pitch Upon. A Dozen

Poachers Were In The Fray,  Most Of Them With Guns; Little Wonder The

Random Shot From One Should Have Found A Mark. I Know Nothing More

Certain Than That,  So Help--"

"That Will Do," Interrupted Mr. Elster,  Arresting What Might Be Coming;

For He Disliked Strong Language. "I Believe You Fully,  Pike. What Part Of

The Country Were You Born In?"

"London. Born And Bred In It."

"That I Do Not Believe," He Said Frankly. "Your Accent Is Not That Of A

Londoner."

"As You Will,  Sir," Returned Pike. "My Mother Was From Devonshire; But I

Was Born And Bred In London. I Recognized That One With The Writ For A

Fellow Cockney At Once; And For What He Was,  Too--A Sheriffs Officer.

Shouldn't Be Surprised But I Knew Him For One Years Ago."

Val Elster Dropped A Coin Into The Man's Hand,  And Bade Him Good Morning.

Pike Touched His Wide-Awake,  And Reiterated His Intention Of "Dodging The

Enemy." But,  As Mr. Elster