The Mystery of the Clasped Hands: A Novel

As he finished speaking they drew up before the steps and the two men descended from the cart. The ladies were waiting in the hall to receive them.

"How do you do, Mr. Fensden?" said Mrs. Henderson, coming forward to meet him. "It is a long time since we have met, and you have been a great traveller in the meantime."

"Thanks to your son," said Victor as he took her hand. "How do you do, Miss Kitty? Events advance too quickly with all of us, but they seem to have taken giant strides with you."

"You mean that when last we met I was still on the other side of that line which is only crossed by a girl when she performs the mysterious operation called 'putting her hair up,'" answered that sharp-tongued young lady.

"Now, Victor," said Godfrey, when Kitty had been annihilated, "let me have the pleasure of introducing you to Miss Devereux."

The couple bowed to each other, and Victor offered her his congratulations.

"And now you must come and have your tea," said Mrs. Henderson, hospitably. "You must need it, I am sure, after your long journey."

"Or perhaps you would prefer something more substantial," put in Godfrey. "I noticed that you shivered as we came up the drive."

"I really think I should," said Victor. "After the warmth of the East our English winters are not to be trifled with."

Godfrey led the way to the dining-room and placed the spirit-stand before his friend.

"I don't think I have ever been so cold in my life before," said Victor, as he poured out an amount of brandy for himself that made Godfrey open his eyes in astonishment, for he had always looked upon the other as an exceedingly temperate man.

"Now, tell me, would you prefer to see your room first?" Godfrey inquired, when the other had tossed off his refreshment, "or shall we join the ladies?"

"Perhaps I had better make myself presentable first," Victor answered, glancing complacently at himself in the mirror above the chimney-piece.

Godfrey accordingly led the way to the room which had been set apart for his friend's use, and to which the latter's luggage had been conveyed. It was a pleasant apartment, looking out on what was called the Ladies' Garden, and thence across the park to a high and wooded hill. Victor went to the window and studied the prospect.

"You have a charming home," he said, with what was almost a sigh; "you are about to marry a beautiful girl; you have wealth, success, and everything else that can make life worth living, Godfrey. You should be a happy man."

"I am happy," Godfrey replied, "and, please God, I'll do my best to make others so. And that reminds me, Victor, I want to have a talk with you. Do you know that on Thursday night I met Teresina in the Strand?"

Victor had turned from the window, and was brushing his hair at the time. As he heard what Godfrey said, the brush fell from his hand upon the floor. As he picked it up and continued his toilet, he said in surprise:

"Teresina in London? Surely you must have been mistaken. I thought she was still in Naples?"

"She is in London," Godfrey repeated. "I could not have been mistaken, for I spoke to her."

"At what time did you see her?"

"Just about midnight," his friend replied.

"Are you aware that the signora is dead and that Teresina is married?"

"How should I be likely to?" said Victor. "You know that I have not seen her since I bade her good-bye in your studio before we went abroad. And so the pretty model is married? Well, I suppose the proper thing to say is that one hopes that she will be happy."

"But she is not happy, far from it. Her husband as well as her mother is dead."

"I believe there are some wives who would consider that fact to be not altogether a matter for sorrow. But what makes you think that Teresina is unhappy?"

"Because she told me so, though she would not tell me anything further. The poor girl seemed in terrible distress."

"And you gave her money, I suppose?" said Victor. "That is usually the way one soothes trouble of her kind. I hope she was grateful."

"I wish to goodness you wouldn't be so cynical," said Godfrey, almost losing his temper. "I wanted to help her, but she would not let me. Every time I offered my assistance she implored me to leave her. She broke down altogether when we reached her house."

"Then you took her home?" said the other. "Do you think that was wise?"

"Why should I not have done so?"

"Well, you see," said Victor, putting his brushes back into their case, "circumstances have somewhat changed with you. Miss Devereux might not altogether approve."

"Miss Devereux is too good and kind a girl to object to my doing what I could to comfort an old friend in trouble."

"But when that old friend in trouble happens to be an extremely beautiful girl the situation becomes slightly changed. However, don't think that I am endeavouring to interfere. And now shall we go downstairs?"

"But, confound it, Victor, you don't mean to say that you take no more interest in Teresina's fate than this? I thought you liked her as much as I did."

"Mon cher ami," said Victor, rearranging his tie before the glass, "that is scarcely fair, either to yourself or to me. Have you forgotten a little discussion we had together, and which eventually resulted in our leaving England for a time? Had you not taken such an interest in Teresina then, I doubt very much whether I should have seen Cairo or Jerusalem, or a lot of other places. But still, my dear fellow, if there is anything I can do to help your old model you may be sure I shall be only too glad to do it."

"I knew you would," said Godfrey, placing his hand affectionately on the other's shoulder. "We must talk it over some time and see what can be done. It will never do to let her go on as she is now."

"You have no idea, I suppose, of the origin of the trouble?"

"Not the least. She would tell me nothing. She tried to make me believe that she had plenty of work, and that she did not stand in need of any assistance. I knew better, however."

"And where is she living?"

"In Burford Street, off the Tottenham Court Road. It is a miserable place, mainly occupied by foreigners. The house is on the right-hand side."

"Very well," said Victor. "When I go back to town I will look her up. It will be hard if we can't arrange something."

Then they descended the stairs together and entered the drawing-room.

"My dear Godfrey, are you aware that you will have one wife in a hundred?" said Kitty, pointing to a table on which some twenty packages of all sizes, shapes, and descriptions were arranged.

"How so?" said Godfrey. "What new virtue have you discovered in her?"

"I have found that she can subordinate curiosity to a sense of duty," said the young lady. "These presents arrived for you just after you left for the station, and yet she would not open them herself or allow me to do so until you returned. I have been consumed with a mad desire to explore them, particularly that foreign-looking box at the end."

"Well, your curiosity shall very soon be satisfied," he said. "But we must begin with the most important-looking packages."

"Let us pray that there are no more Apostle spoons, serviette-rings, or silver sweet-dishes," said Molly. "We have already some two dozen of each."

Package after package was opened in its turn and the contents displayed. As they were for the most part presents to the bridegroom individually, they were mainly of a nature suited to his tastes: hunting flasks, silver sandwich cases, cigar and cigarette holders, and articles of a similar description. At last they came to the curious-looking box to which Kitty had referred. It was oblong in shape, and bore the name of a Vienna firm stamped on the end. It was tied with cord, and the label was addressed in an uneducated handwriting to "Mr. Godfrey Henderson, Detwich Hall, Detwich, Midlandshire."

In his own mind he had no doubt that it emanated from Teresina, who, as he was aware, had been informed as to his approaching marriage. Having untied the cord, he prized the lid, which was nailed down, with a dagger paper-knife, which he took from a table close at hand. An unpleasant odour immediately permeated the room. A folded sheet of newspaper covered the contents, whatever they were, and this Godfrey removed, only to spring back with a cry of horror. In the box, the fingers tightly interlaced, were two tiny hands, which had been severed from the body, to which they had once belonged, at the wrist.

CHAPTER VII