The Mystery of the Clasped Hands: A Novel

The distance to Churley cross roads from the Hall is little more than a mile, so that the half-hour he had allowed himself to get there, enabled him to jog along without hurrying his horse. It was what might be described as a perfect hunting morning. A slight mist hung in places upon the fields; it was, however, being quickly dispersed by the sunshine. A pleasant breeze was driving the clouds across the sky, throwing delightful shadows upon the meadows, and crisping the surface of the river as he passed over the old stone bridge. When he reached the cross roads he had still some ten minutes in hand; but as there were several others as early as himself, this fact did not weigh heavily upon his mind. Meanwhile he kept a sharp eye on the road down which he had come, and when he espied the stout figure of the old baronet on his famous hunter, with his daughter beside him, mounted on a somewhat vicious-looking chestnut, he rode forward to receive them.

"A capital day," said the old gentleman, when they had exchanged the usual salutations. "We could scarcely have a better. Strangely enough, as I was saying to Molly just now, in fifty years I've never known a wet Churley Cross Meet."

"What do you think of my new horse, Mr. Henderson?" inquired his daughter, when the latter had remarked upon the strangeness of the coincidence. "Papa bought him for me on Saturday."

"He must be very nearly thoroughbred," Godfrey replied, not caring to add that he did not altogether like the look of the animal in question. There was a nasty flicker in the horse's eyes, of which, to Godfrey's thinking, he showed a great deal too much white. There could be no denying his make and shape, however. "You'll be showing us a clean pair of heels to-day."

"I'll be bound she will," said the old baronet, upon whom the horse had evidently made a favourable impression. "They tell me he won a decent steeplechase last season; and Seth Warton, of whom I got him, says he is the best he has had in his stable for many a long day. That says something."

"I sincerely hope he may prove to be all you could wish," said Godfrey; and at that moment the Master came forward to bid them good-morning.

"I think we'll try the Spinney first, Sir Vivian," he said. "I hear good reports in that direction. A new horse, Miss Devereux, and I should say a fast one. Have pity on us all!"

As if to prove that his manners were not so good as his looks, the animal in question made as if he would rear, and for a moment Godfrey's heart seemed to stand still.

"I don't like the look of him," he said to himself. "Heaven send he does her no mischief."

But he was not permitted much time to think of such a thing, for the Master had given the signal, and already a general move was being made in the direction of the Spinney. Godfrey settled himself down by Miss Devereux's side, leaving the old gentleman free to discuss the prospects of the day with the local doctor, a sportsman of some celebrity in the neighbourhood.

"Miss Devereux," said Godfrey, as they approached the wood, "at the risk of offending you, I must say that I don't altogether care about the look of that horse. I should say, from his appearance, handsome as it is, that he possesses more than a touch of temper. I do hope you will be careful what you do with him to-day."

"You needn't be afraid," she answered, as she flashed a sharp glance at him. "I think we understand each other perfectly. He hasn't been with hounds for some time, and he's naturally a little excited. It will wear off, however, before the day is done."

"I sincerely hope it may," Godfrey continued. "In the meantime I can not help wishing that we could exchange mounts."

"You think that you could manage him better than I?" she said. "If that is a challenge we will see. Now, let us watch what goes on, for I want to be well away."

At that moment three blasts of the horn were heard from the right, and, before Godfrey could have counted twenty, the hounds were out of cover and streaming away in the direction of the village – only to change their course after the first quarter of a mile.

"It looks as if we were in for a fast thing," said Miss Devereux; and the words had scarcely left her lips when the chestnut gave a violent plunge in the air and was off at a racing pace.

"If he goes on like that, the brute will pull her arms out, if he doesn't do anything worse," Godfrey muttered to himself.

But so far the girl had got him well in hand. Sitting back in the saddle, she let him have his head, taking a gradual pull at him as they neared the first hedge. Whatever his other faults may have been, he was certainly a jumper, for he cleared the obstacle in unmistakable style. As she had said a few moments before, there could be no doubt that they were in for a fast thing. The hounds were racing as if their one desire was to run Master Reynard to earth before he could get into the next field. Godfrey's own horse, to use a phrase that his mother could never understand, "was going strong," but he could not live in the same county with the chestnut. In spite of Miss Devereux's undoubted skill in the saddle, the horse was gradually becoming the master. At the third fence, an ugly-looking post and rail, with a bad approach, he took off too soon, giving his rider the chance of an extremely nasty fall. She saved the situation, however, by a miracle. They had reached the top of the hill, and were descending into the valley on the other side, when Godfrey, whose horse was doing its best, realized that something very serious was the matter ahead. The chestnut had undeniably got out of hand, and, scared by some sheep, was edging toward the left.

"It is just what I expected," he said to himself as he rode along some half-a-dozen lengths behind the other. "She is losing control over him. I must follow at all costs."

Digging his spurs into the horse's side, he endeavoured to race up to the animal in front of him. He was too late, however. The chestnut had got the bit in his teeth, and, swerving to the left, was galloping in the direction of a small wood. Observing this, Godfrey turned his horse's head and made after him. Fortunately, the paddock over which they were galloping was a large one; but the chestnut was going at such a pace that he very soon crossed it. Skirting the wood, he began to descend the hill on the other side. Then he disappeared altogether from view. When Godfrey reached the top of the rise, he scarcely dared to look about him; but when he did so, he saw that the horse had altered his original course, and was making his way again across the angle, as if he desired to reach the line the hounds were still following. In a flash Godfrey realized the situation and took in the fact that the animal was unconsciously making direct for a large chalk pit, and that unless something were done at once to prevent him, nothing could save both horse and rider from a terrible death.

"God help me to save her!" he cried. "God help me to save her!"

CHAPTER V

For a moment after he realized the true state of affairs Godfrey was spellbound with terror. Was it just possible that he would be able to head the horse off from the pit? If he could not, then it would be the end of all things as far as Miss Devereux was concerned. With the cold sweat of terror on his brow he watched the girl he loved racing down the slope on the maddened horse. He saw that she was making a brave fight to bring him to a standstill; but even at that distance he could tell that her effort was in vain. A moment later the animal had once more changed his course and had dashed toward a hedge. He scarcely rose at it; as a natural consequence he struck it, toppled over, and then both horse and rider disappeared together. Fearful at what he might find, Godfrey galloped toward the spot, jumped the gate that separated it from the neighbouring field, and looked about him for what he should see. The horse was lying stretched out upon the ground, and one glance was sufficient to show him that its neck was broken. In the dry ditch below the hedge he could catch a glimpse of a black figure. He sprang from his horse and approached it. Lifting her head he supported her in his arms, and as he did so a little sigh escaped from her lips.

"God be thanked, she is still alive!" he muttered to himself, and then he replaced her head upon the bank.

Taking off his coat he made it into a ball. He placed it beneath her head, and then set off in search of water. When he had procured a little in his hat he returned and bathed her forehead and temples with it. After a while she opened her eyes and looked up at him.

"I feel better now," she answered, in reply to his inquiries. "Where is the horse?"

"Close beside you," he said, and then going to his own animal he took his flask from the holster and filled the little cup with sherry.

"Drink this," he said. "It will do you good."

The wine revived her, and in a few minutes she was so far recovered as to be able to sit up and discuss matters with him.

"I am quite well now," she said. "But how am I to get home? Poor papa! What a state he will be in when he hears! Since my horse is dead I suppose I must try to walk."

"You will do nothing of the kind," Godfrey replied, firmly. "I will lift you into the saddle and you must try and ride my horse. If we can find a village near here, you can remain there until a carriage is sent from the Court to fetch you."

"As I have proved myself incompetent I suppose I must obey you," she answered, with a touch of her old spirit. "But what is to be done with my own poor beast?"

"I will arrange about him when I have attended to your comfort," he said, and then assisted her to rise and lifted her into the saddle. For the first hundred yards or so they walked almost in silence. She was the first to speak.

"Mr. Henderson," she said, looking down at him, "I owe you an apology. I was rude to you the other day, and I laughed at you when you told me this morning that you did not like my new horse. Events have proved that you were right. Will you forgive me?"

"I have nothing to forgive," he answered; "but you can have no idea how nervous I was this morning when I saw how that brute behaved."

"Why should you have bothered yourself about me?" she asked, not, however, with quite her usual confidence.

Here was the very opportunity he had been looking for so long. He felt that he must take possession of it at once.

"Because I love you," he answered. "You must have known that I have been in love with you ever since I first saw you, Molly. Don't you believe me?"

"Yes, I know it," she replied, looking at him with the love-light shining in her own eyes.

"And your answer, Molly? What can you say to me?"

"Only that I love you too," she murmured.

I do not know what my spinster readers will think, but the fact remains that the paddock they were crossing was a large one, some twenty acres in extent. It was almost in the centre of this open space that he proposed to her, and she, brazen creature, at his suggestion, I will admit, stooped from her saddle and permitted him to kiss her where all the world might see.

It was between three and four o'clock that afternoon when Godfrey reached home. He had waited at the little village inn until the carriage, which he had sent for to convey her home, arrived from the Court. Then, when he had promised to ride over in the morning in order to interview her father, he watched her drive off and had afterward departed himself to his own abode.

"Well, Godfrey, and what sort of a day have you had?" asked Miss Kitty, as they stood in the drawing-room before the fire.

"Splendid," he answered. "I was awfully cut up at one time, but on the whole it has been one of the best days in my life."

"You seem to have enjoyed it. Where did you find?"

"At Churley Spinney," he answered.

"And you killed at – ?"

"I'm sure I don't know," was the reply.

"How long did you run?"