The Mynns' Mystery

At that moment there was a tap at the door.

Chapter Twenty Seven

“It’s him; it’s him!”

“Come in.”

Mrs Denton entered timidly, looking nervously at the stranger, and then said deprecatingly:

“Mrs Hampton sent me, sir, to say she should be glad to speak to you, sir.”

“Yes, yes, of course. Well, sir, I have heard all you wanted to say?”

“No, not yet,” cried the young man excitedly. “I say, old lady, you remember me?”

The old woman looked at him wistfully, and shook her head.

“No, sir, no,” she said.

“Oh, yes, you do,” he cried merrily. “Don’t you remember washing me when I was a little chap in a sort of tin bath with spots on it, red spots, and the inside was white, with shiny places, where the paint had come off.”

The old woman gazed at him wildly.

“You remember? The bottom curved up and as I stood on it, gave way, and then came up again with a loud bump.”

She still gazed at him silently, while he seemed to be trying to evoke old memories.

“Yes, to be sure, and you put me to bed in a great four-post affair, with heavy tassels and bobs round the top, and they swung to and fro, and – to be sure, yes, you set a great night-shade full of round holes on the floor, with a tin cup of water in it, and a long thin rushlight in the middle. Oh, yes, I remember seeing those holes reflected on the wall.”

“Yes, my dear,” cried the old woman excitedly, “and it has never been used since. No, Mr Hampton, sir, there are no long rushlights now.”

“Come, sir,” cried the young man excitedly, “we are beginning to feel bottom after all.”

“But – but – ” faltered the old woman, and then stopped.

“Why, my dear old lady,” cried the young man, taking her withered hands, “I can remember you holding my little palms together as I knelt on the bed, and teaching me to say a kind of prayer. Let me see, what was it – I’ve never heard it since – yes, that’s it:

“Matthew, Mark, Luke and John,
God bless the bed that I lay on,
Four corners to my bed,
Six angels round me spread,
Two at head, two at feet,
And two to guard me while I sleep.”

The poor old woman’s jaw dropped, her eyes dilated, and her hands went up, as the speaker went on, and as he ended the simple, pious old doggerel, she burst into a hysterical fit of sobbing as she cried:

“Yes, yes, yes, it is – it is him, sir. Oh, my dear, dear boy; and you growed to be such a fine young man. It is you, Master George. Thank God! Thank God!”

She flung her arms about his neck, and he held her to his breast, kissing her withered old brow as he patted her cheek gently, ignorant of the fact that Mrs Hampton and Gertrude had followed to the open door, and were waiting impatiently for the old woman’s return.

“Come, old granny,” cried the young man, “this is more like coming home. Heaven bless all memories, say I.”

“Yes, my dear,” sobbed the old woman, looking at him proudly, as she laid her hands on his breast, and gazed in his face.

“And – Ha, ha, ha! The sugar drops you made me, and – by Jove, yes. What’s become of the old fruit-knife, and the white needle-case, and that bit of sweet root you used to keep in that big old pocket. Don’t you remember? You gave them to me to play with.”

The old woman uttered a little laugh full of childish delight as she bent sidewise, thrust one arm through an opening, raked about, and, as playfully as if she were dealing with a child, brought out by degrees the articles he had named, all preserved as old folk do preserve such things, and in addition a little square tin box, with grotesque heads stamped thereon.

“But you don’t recollect that?” she said playfully.

“Yes, I do,” he cried eagerly; “it’s the one out of which I spilt all the pins.”

“May we come in?” said Mrs Hampton, in her stern, harsh voice.

“Yes, yes, ma’am,” cried the old woman excitedly. “Miss Gertrude, my dear, oh, be quick! It’s him; it’s him; and me not to have known him directly I saw his face.”

A short, dry cough from the lawyer checked her, as, flushed and trembling with excitement, Gertrude stood once more in the room.

“Yes, yes, Denton,” said the old lawyer; “this is all very good evidence, but – ”

“Oh, it’s him, sir! it’s him! Miss Gertrude, we’ve all been dreadfully cheated. It’s him; it’s him!”

“Mrs Denton, have the goodness to be silent,” said Mr Hampton sternly.

“Yes, yes, granny,” said the young man, laying his arm caressingly on her shoulder; “be quiet now and wait. By-and-bye I hope to convince all here as strongly as I have convinced you.”

“You shall have fair play, sir,” said the lawyer gravely. “I regret to be compelled to treat you as I do; and I regret also that I must withhold all confidence in what you have said. I can only say, sir, that you have impressed me most favourably.”

“And I’m sure you never drink, my dear?” cried Denton.

“Mrs Denton?”

“I beg pardon, sir; it’s only that I’m so glad to see his bonny face again.”

“I shall,” continued the old lawyer —

“Excuse me for interposing, sir,” said the young man excitedly, for he had flushed as he met Gertrude’s eyes fixed wonderingly, and yet with a pleased expression upon his. “You are a lawyer, and the ways of the law are said to be slow. The case is this – ”

He spoke at the old lawyer, but he looked at Gertrude the while.

“I’m George Harrington, and during my illness the man I trusted has, believing me dead, come over and robbed me of my birthright. The first thing to be done is to bring us face to face.”

“Yes,” assented Mrs Hampton; “to bring them face to face.”

Gertrude drew a long breath, and it seemed as if a terrible load had been lifted from her breast.

“Without confronting the man who, I say, has imposed upon you all, and whom I believe to be Dan Portway, I have no means of proving who I am – save by the tattooed marks.”