CHAPTER XIII.
DR. IVOR OF BABBICOMBE
Two days later, Cousin Willie drove us over to Berry Pomeroy. Thelion of the place is the castle, of course; but Minnie had told himbeforehand I wanted, for reasons of my own, to visit thecricket-field where the sports were held "the year Dr. Ivor won themile race, you remember." So we went there straight. As soon as weentered, I recognised the field at once, and the pavilion, and thewoods, as being precisely the same as those presented in thephotograph. But I got no further than that. The captain of thecricket-club was on the ground that day, and I managed to get intoconversation with him, and strolled off in the grounds. There Ishowed him the photograph, and asked if he could identify the manclimbing over the wagon: but he said he couldn't recognise him.Somebody or other from Torquay, perhaps; not a regular resident. Thefigures were so small, and so difficult to make sure about. If I'dleave him the photograph, perhaps--but at that I drew back, for Ididn't want anybody, least of all at Torquay, to know what quest Iwas engaged upon.
We drove back, a merry party enough, in spite of my failure. Minniewas always so jolly, and her mirth was contagious. She talked allthe way still of Dr. Ivor, half-teasing me. It was all very well mypretending not to remember, she said; but why did I want to see thecricket-field if it wasn't for that? Poor Courtenay! if only heknew, how delighted he'd be to know he wasn't forgotten! For hereally took it to heart, my illness--she always called it myillness, and so I suppose it was. From the day I lost my memory,nothing seemed to go right with him; and he was never content tillhe went and buried himself somewhere in the wilds of Canada.
That evening again, I sat with Minnie in my room. I was depressedand distressed. I didn't want to cry before Minnie, but I could havecried with good heart for sheer vexation. Of course I couldn't bearto go showing the photograph to all the world, and letting everybodysee I'd made myself a sort of amateur detective. They would mistakemy motives so. And yet I didn't know how I was ever to find out myman any other way. It was that or nothing. I made up my mind I wouldask Cousin Willie.
I took out the photograph, as if unintentionally, when I went to mybox, and laid it down with my curling-tongs on the table close byMinnie. Minnie took it up abstractedly and looked at it with anindefinite gaze.
"Why, this is the cricket-field!" she cried, as soon as shecollected her senses. "One of your father's experiments. Theearliest acmegraphs. How splendidly they come out! See, that's SirEverard at the bottom; and there's little Jack Hillier above; andthis on one side's Captain Brooks; and there, in front of all--well,you know HIM anyhow, Una. Now, don't pretend you forget! That'sCourtenay Ivor!"
Her finger was on the man who stood poised ready to jump. With anawful recoil, I drew back and suppressed a scream. It was on the tipof my tongue to cry out, "Why, that's my father's murderer!"
But, happily, with a great effort of will I restrained myself. I sawit all at a glance. That, then, was the meaning of Dr. Marten'swarning! No wonder, I thought, the shock had disorganised my wholebrain. If Minnie was right, I was in love once with that man. And Imust have seen my lover murder my father!
For I didn't doubt, from what Minnie said, I had really once lovedDr. Ivor. Horrible and ghastly as it might be to realise it, Ididn't doubt it was the truth. I had once loved the very man I wasnow bent on pursuing as a criminal and a murderer!
"You're sure that's him, Minnie?" I cried, trying to conceal myagitation. "You're sure that's Courtenay Ivor, the man stooping onthe wagon-top?"
Minnie looked at me, smiling. She thought I was asking for a verydifferent reason.
"Yes, that's him, right enough, dear," she said. "I could tell himamong a thousand. Why, the Moore hand alone would be quite enough toknow him by. It's just like my own. We've all of us got it--exceptyourself. I always said you weren't one of us. You're a regular bornCallingham."
I gazed at her fixedly. I could hardly speak.
"Oh, Minnie!" I cried once more, "have you ... have you anyphotograph of him?"
"No, we haven't, dear," Minnie answered.
"That was a fad of Courtenay's, you know. Wherever he went, he'dnever be photographed. He was annoyed that day that your fathershould have taken him unawares. He hated being 'done,' he said. He'sso handsome and so nice, but he's not a bit conceited. And he wassuch a splendid bicyclist! He rode over and back on his bicycle thatday, and then ran in all the races as if it were nothing."
A light burst over me at once. This was circumstantial evidence. Themurderer who disappeared as if by magic the moment his crime wascommitted must have come and gone all unseen, no doubt, on hisbicycle. He must have left it under the window till his vile deedwas done, and then leapt out upon it in a second and dashed offwhence he came like a flash of lightning.
It was a premeditated crime, in that case, not the mere casualresult of a sudden quarrel.
I must find out this man now, were it only to relieve my own senseof mystery.
"Minnie," I said once more, screwing up my courage to ask, "where'sDr. Ivor now? I mean--that is to say--in what part of Canada?"
Minnie looked at me and laughed.
"There, I told you so!" she said, merrily. "It's not the least bitof use your pretending you're not in love with him, Una. Why, justlook how you tremble! You're as white as a ghost! And then you sayyou don't care for poor Courtenay! I forget the exact name of theplace where he lives, but I've got it in my desk, and I can tell youto-morrow.--Oh, yes; it's Palmyra, on the Canada Pacific. I supposeyou want to write to him. Or perhaps you mean to go out and offeryourself bodily."
It was awful having to bottle up the truth in one's own heart, andto laugh and jest like this; but I endured it somehow.
"No, it's not that," I said gravely. "I've other reasons of my ownfor asking his address, Minnie. I want to go out there, it's true;but not because I cherish the faintest pleasing recollection of Dr.Ivor in any way."
Minnie scanned me over in surprise.
"Well, how you ARE altered, Una!" she cried. "I love you, dear, andlike you every bit as much as ever. But you've changed so much. Idon't think you're at all what you used to be. You're so grave andsombre."
"No wonder, Minnie," I exclaimed, bursting gladly into tears--theexcuse was such a relief--"no wonder, when you think how much I'vepassed through!"
Minnie flung her arms around my neck, and kissed me over and overagain.
"Oh, dear!" she cried, melting. "What have I done? What have I said?I ought never to have spoken so. It was cruel of me--cruel, Unadear. I shall stop here to-night, and sleep with you."
"Oh, thank you, darling!" I cried. "Minnie, that IS good of you. I'mso awfully glad. For to-morrow I must be thinking of getting readyfor Canada."
"Canada!" Minnie exclaimed, alarmed. "You're not really going toCanada! Oh, Una, you're joking! You don't mean to say you're goingout there to find him!"
I took her hand in mine, and held it up in the air above her headsolemnly.
"Dear cousin," I said, "I love you. But you must promise me this onething. Whatever may happen, give me your sacred word of honouryou'll never tell anybody what we've said here to-night. You'llkill me if you do. I don't want any living soul on earth to know ofit."
I spoke so seriously, Minnie felt it was important.
"I promise you," she answered, growing suddenly far graver than herwont. "Oh, Una, I haven't the faintest idea what you mean, but notorture on earth shall ever wring a word of it from me!"
So I went to bed in her arms, and cried myself to sleep, thinkingwith my latest breath, in a tremor of horror, that I'd found it atlast. Courtenay Ivor was the name of my father's murderer!