This House to Let

She did suggest that they should wait till Jack had left the army and settled himself in London. But he fought this idea stubbornly. He was mad to tie her to himself, for fear that somebody else with more immediate prospects might step in and carry her off. A little common-sense, of course, might have told him that if she was as fatally attractive to others as to himself, she would have been carried off before this.

He was so terribly jealous of her, that he had never made the slightest effort to bring any of his brother officers round to Rosemount. He even kept Hugh away as much as he could.

The lovers worked out their little plot very nicely. Miss Burton would leave Blankfield for a couple of weeks, ostensibly to pay a visit to a relative. Her destination would be London. Jack would take a few days’ leave of absence in due course, and procure a special licence. They would return on separate days and resume their normal life, until such time as they perfected their after arrangements.

Chapter Six

Miss Burton arrived home on a Monday by a mid-day train; her attentive brother met her at the station. She was one of those girls who look smart and neat under the most trying circumstances. Although it was a long journey, she bore no signs or stains of travel.

“When does Jack arrive, not too soon, I hope?” commented George, as he assisted her into a cab, and sat down beside her.

“He wanted to come down to-night, but I vetoed that,” responded the girl. “I told him people might put two and two together. He will get here mid-day to-morrow. I shall meet him casually in the High Street. He is going to bring Murchison along with him. And I shall give them an impromptu invitation to dinner.”

“I don’t know that I am very keen on having Murchison to dinner,” remarked Mr Burton in rather a growling tone.

Miss Burton shrugged her shoulders. “And, perhaps, of the two, I am less keen than you are. But we have got to play it pretty quiet down here, till the whole lot of us clear out. Better to let Murchison come. He is pretty suspicious, as it is, but if we shut him out, he’ll be more suspicious still.”

Mr Burton chuckled in a grim fashion.

“Well, our inquisitive friend, the whole lot of them as a matter of fact, can’t do you much harm now. You’ve got him tight enough. And I’ll say this for him, he’s a bit soft and all that sort of thing, but he’ll always play the game.”

The girl did not reply for a moment, then she spoke in a voice that was low and soft:

“Yes, he’s a dear little chap, he’ll always play the game.”

“He can afford to,” was the rather ungracious comment. Clearly Mr Burton was not in one of his best moods to-day.

Mr Pomfret returned from his short leave on the following day, and at once sought his friend.

“Glad to be back, old man, got fed-up with London,” he cried cheerfully. His excuse for his visit was that he had to go up to see his aunt’s solicitors, on some pressing affairs which the old lady had entrusted to him, after her temporary recovery from her dangerous illness.

Now Murchison was pretty quick. He already had a shrewd suspicion that Jack had been making a great many surreptitious visits to Rosemount, that Hugh had been asked there now and again as a blind. And when he happened to be present, he had noticed that Jack and Norah had taken very little notice of each other. Jack had cultivated the brother, and left his friend to entertain the attractive young woman. In itself, this rather obvious attitude was suspicious. It confirmed his impression that there was a private understanding between the young people, and that they were throwing dust in his eyes.

He had already put two and two together, with regard to the concurrent absences. Mr Burton, meeting him in the High Street two days after Norah’s departure, had told him his sister was paying a visit to a married relative who lived at Brighton. He would have not believed Mr Burton on his oath.

And Jack had taken his few days’ leave, with the ostensible object of attending to his aunt’s affairs.

Hugh was pretty certain that the silly young ass, as he affectionately designated Jack in his own mind, had arranged to meet Miss Burton for a day or two in London, in order to enjoy her society, free from interruption or espionage. Of course, he was far from guessing the truth. He would not have thought Pomfret capable of any such daring action.

Jack had just expressed himself fed-up with London, and yet his demeanour was jubilant and hilarious. Of course, Hugh could not dream his attitude was that of the exultant bridegroom, almost intoxicated with the knowledge of having gained his heart’s desire. There had been a couple of lunches, perhaps a couple of dinners with a theatre thrown in. The buoyant Jack was living on these blissful memories.

Later in the day, the two men walked down the High Street, of course in accordance with a pre-arranged plan decided upon by the artful lovers. The first person they met was Miss Burton, sauntering along slowly; Miss Burton, now Mrs Pomfret, as fast as the ecclesiastical law of England could make her.

She welcomed them with her ready and charming smile. “What strangers we are,” she cried gaily. “And how nice to meet my only two friends in Blankfield.”

Pomfret did a little finessing on his own. “I have been away for a few days, too,” he explained glibly. “Had to go up to London to look after some business of my poor old aunt’s; only got back by the mid-day train.”

“Did you enjoy your visit?” inquired Hugh of Norah, with that stiffness which he could never quite dissociate from his manner when addressing either brother or sister.

“Yes and No,” was the answer. “On the whole, I had quite a good time, but I am not sorry to get back to Rosemount, and my little household gods. Knowing you both has made such a difference to my life here.”

She was laying it on a little bit thick, Hugh thought, and he fancied she looked more at Pomfret than himself, as she said it. But he made a suitable and courteous reply.

She was just about to turn away, when a sudden thought seemed to strike her.

“As Mr Pomfret and I have been such wanderers, would it not be nice to celebrate our return? Will you both come to dinner to-night, and we can relate our experiences?”

Pomfret jumped at the invitation, and Hugh had to follow suit. As a matter of fact, he was rather eager to go. They were both playing their parts very well, but he was quite convinced they were playing a part. He was more certain about Jack than about her. Jack had been a bit too glib, had over-acted, as it were. They had met in London, if only for a few hours; he would have bet a thousand pounds on that.

Jack declared that he would walk back to Rosemount with Miss Burton. He did not now care a farthing what members of Blankfield Society he met. Very shortly, the army would know him no more, and he would take up a new life with this fearless girl whom he had married on the sly.

Hugh strolled on, and looked in at the various shops. The High Street happened to be rather empty on this particular afternoon, the élite of Blankfield Society had not yet turned out for its usual promenade.

Turning away from a jeweller’s shop window, where he was inspecting some sleeve-links, he was confronted by a tall, sturdily built man of about fifty years of age, who raised his hat.

“I believe I have the pleasure of addressing Captain Murchison?” he inquired politely.

Hugh directed a swift glance at him. He was not exactly a common person, on the other hand he was certainly not a gentleman. There was something military in his bearing; he might have been a retired Sergeant-Major.

“That is my name,” answered Hugh a little curtly. “And who are you, please?”

The tall man took a card from his waistcoat pocket and presented it. “Those are my credentials, sir.”

Hugh ran his eye over it swiftly. He saw the name, Davidson, a common one enough, and, in the corner, Scotland Yard. Why the deuce should this agent of the police want to accost him? And how did he know his name was Murchison?

“I think you are acquainted with a family of the name of Burton, brother and sister they call themselves, who live at a house a little way out called Rosemount?”

“Of course I know them, that is to say, in a casual sort of way.” Needless to say that Murchison had never been more surprised in his life. “Why are you asking these questions?” Mr Davidson darted a keen glance up and down the comparatively empty High Street. “This is rather an exposed place in which to talk, but I have something to tell you which I am sure you will be interested to listen to. I am staying at the ‘Anchor,’ in a side street from this. If you will do me the honour to follow me, I can take you into a private room there, where we shall not be observed nor overheard.”

Like a man in a dream, Hugh found himself following Mr Davidson to the “Anchor,” one of the second-class hotels in the town. He was quite sure that this tall, military looking person was going to clear up the mystery of the couple whom Blankfield, in its wisdom, had refused to visit, and whose acquaintance he owed to a random meeting at a tea-shop.

There were only one or two idlers in the entrance-hall of the hotel, which was of what is known as the “Commercial” kind. Murchison was glad to find that he did not seem to attract their observation, as he rapidly crossed over to where his new acquaintance was standing in a rather dark corner.

Davidson piloted him into a little sitting-room which opened out of a long narrow passage. He rang the bell, and ordered refreshments with the manner of a man who was acquainted with the usages of polite society.

It would be quite safe to say that Hugh, the heir to a great fortune, brought up in the lap of luxury, an aristocrat by adoption, if not exactly by birth, had never found himself up till now in such an environment. He could not truthfully declare that it was an experience he wished to repeat.

Still, he could blame nobody but himself, his foolish action in taking up with a couple of persons whom Blankfield, in its superior worldly wisdom, had decided to ignore. As he was in for it, and nothing could undo the past, it was better to go through with it. Let him accommodate himself to the situation, drink his whisky-and-soda in this dingy little parlour of a second-rate hotel, and treat the detective with genial courtesy.

After the first mouthful of his drink, Davidson began to explain.

“Of course, sir, I quite understand this is not the sort of thing or the sort of place to which you are accustomed,” he said, waving a deprecatory hand round the shabby little parlour. “But in this particular case, I and my friend – that friend I may say at the moment is elsewhere taking his observations – wanted to lie low. It didn’t enter into our scheme to put up at a swagger hotel, and run the risk of gossip. It might have reached the ears of those we are after, and scared them off.” Hugh listened attentively. There was something very serious in the wind now, and the dwellers at Rosemount were as yet unaware of what was impending.

His surprise expressed itself in the direct question which he shot at the detective: “I take it you are here to arrest them, then?”

“One of them, the man,” corrected Mr Davidson, quietly; “we know a good deal about the girl, but we have no evidence that implicates her beyond the fact of her association with him, and from our point of view that means nothing in a Court of Law.”

“What is his offence?” asked the startled Hugh.