nothing, and bedtime came.
"I turn in early," explained Violet, "because I have to turn out early,and get to my job. You'll have to turn in with me, dear, to-night atany rate. To-morrow, if you want a room to yourself, I dare say MrsSeals can fix you up. But they're all rather kennels I'm afraid. I'vegot the pick of the basket."
"Don't you worry about me, Violet. It's something to have some one tocome to when you get the key of the street door given you, I can tellyou," answered Melian, seriously. And then they went to bed and talkedeach other to sleep.
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There followed then, sad, disappointing, heart weary days for poorMelian. She answered advertisements in person, and by letter. She wentto all sorts of places, in and around London, in course of such answers.Sometimes she was sympathetically received, twice she was insulted, butthat was where she found the dominant male had been advertiser undercover of what looked like one of her own sex. But in the genuine casesdisappointment awaited--and but that she was free from vanity orself-consciousness she might easily have read the real nature of theverdict--"Far too pretty."
Oh, the weariness of those daily tramps, and bus and tram journeys,through more or less hideous, drab, depressing streets in the dull,deadly depressing winter murk invariably characteristic of London duringthe young end of the year! Oh, the weight of it upon the mind, as sherealised, instinctively, that it was not a case of try again, but thatfor some reason or other her case seemed utterly hopeless. She put itto her friend. But the latter, though she shrewdly suspected thereason, shrank from saying so.
Of her, Melian saw little or nothing during the daytime, Violet Clinockwas thorough, and stuck to her job, with an eye to material improvement.But in the evening they would foregather, and the daily tale of wornout disappointment would unfold itself, and after the wretched,soul-wearying effort of the day Melian could not but realise the warmthand comfort and companionship which it ended up with; and this in ameasure heartened her for the next.
She had taken a small bedroom at the top of the squalid house--a mereattic, but the two girls "chummed" together for the rest of theirarrangements. But a fortnight went by, then three weeks, and still withthe same result. Melian Seward was just where she was at the time ofleaving Cumnor Lodge. There seemed to be no room in the world for her.Her slender savings, in spite of every possible economy, were dwindling.When they had done dwindling--what then?
And then the result of the cold, dank, and often wet, questings aroundafter a means of livelihood, combined with lowness of spirits, and asorely disturbed mind, came. She was laid low with a bad bout ofinfluenza. The hydra-headed fiend was hard on the ramp, seeking whom hemight devour, and finding it too in plenty. And among his countlessvictims was Melian Mervyn Seward.
And she could not afford to be ill; for is not illness a luxury for therich?
But through it all her friend tended her with wholehearted and loyalcamaraderie. Of course she suggested a doctor.
"A doctor? Heavens, Violet! I can't afford such luxuries," Melianburst forth fiercely. "The only thing I can afford is to die--and thesooner the better." And then she became delirious, and imagined she wasstanding on the platform of the gloomy, dingy terminus, amid itsvibration of hissing, shrieking engines, discussing those hateful,fateful railway insurance tickets with her dead father. But whether shewould have a doctor or not, Violet was determined she should, and sentfor one accordingly.
He, on arrival, looked grave.
"Has she any relations, Miss Clinock?"
"Oh, good Heavens! You don't say it means that?" And the business girlwas startled for the moment out of her normal take-things-as-they-comeattitude.
"No, no, no. But--they ought to know. She's in a very low state, I'mbound to inform you. There's something on her mind--something hard andheavy on her mind--and that's all against her--all against everything."
"Lord! I wish I knew what to do. But she's very `close.' Betweenourselves, doctor--of course, strictly between ourselves--" The othernodded. "I believe she has one or two. But she must have quarrelledwith them, or they with her, for if ever I got on to the subject shetakes me up mighty sharp, I can tell you. And I don't believe inforcing people's confidences or prying into their affairs."
"No, no. Of--course not. Still, do all you can in that direction. Youmay find opportunities, you know--or make them. Good-evening, I am verybusy just now, there's a record lot of `flu' about, as I dare say youknow. I'll look round in the morning."
CHAPTER EIGHT.
VIOLET'S DISCOVERY.
"In the morning," the doctor had said. What a deal of difference thosethree words can cover. In this instance Melian had passed a quietnight, thanks to his prescription, but was very down and listless.Violet Clinock had decided to take a day off on purpose to look afterher, and with that intent had "expressed" a note down to her place ofbusiness to intimate that fact. Now she sat at breakfast, alone, withthe morning paper propped up against her coffee pot.
As she read, a name caught her eye. "Seward Mervyn." She stared."Seward Mervyn" again. Yes it was. And then running her glance downthe paragraph and up again, she saw that it was headed: "Clancehurst--The Heath Hover Mystery." Thus it ran:
"The remains of the unidentified stranger, who met his death somysteriously at Heath Hover, the residence of Mr Seward Mervyn, wereburied yesterday afternoon in Clancehurst churchyard. No friends orrelatives were forthcoming, but Mr Mervyn, unwilling that one who hadbeen a guest of his--though from first to last unknown to himself--should be buried by the parish, generously came forward, and togetherwith Dr Sandys and a few other generous leading townspeople, raisedsufficient to cover all expenses, and also attended the funeral. Uptill now no light whatever has been thrown upon this strange occurrencewhich has baffled alike all the researches of medical science and theexhaustive investigations of the police. Inspector Nashby ofClancehurst, together with an official from Scotland Yard are in chargeof the case from the latter point of view."
Violet stared at the paragraph and read it through again. Now it allcame back. She had read about it before, but it had not fixed itselfupon her memory. Even the name had failed to effect this then for shehad not seen Melian for some time, and in the busy life she led, "out ofsight out of mind" could not but hold good to a certain extent. But nowthe name seized her attention at once. "Seward Mervyn?" And she knewthat Melian's second name was Mervyn, Clearly this must be a relation.And the doctor had asked her about Melian's relations.
She read no more of the paper. Her shrewd, busy little brain was atwork. This must be a relation, probably an uncle or a cousin. Clearlyher duty was to communicate with him. Clancehurst was only about anhour and a half from London. The day was young--should she go downherself and interview him personally? But against that she did not careto leave her friend alone at this stage. Should she write? Perhapsthat would be the best course. But she had better question Melian firstas to her relative, while saying nothing about any intention on her partto communicate with him. Having thus decided, she went up to herfriend's room, taking the paper with her.
Melian was awake, but drowsily so. Her blue eyes were wide open, buthad a pathetic and lack-lustre look, and her hair, partly loosened, madea tumbled halo of gold against the pillow. Yes, she had slept well--shesaid--only rather wished she could go on sleeping for ever.
"By the way," went on Violet, casually, after having talked a littleabout things in general. "Have you got a relation named Seward Mervyn?"
"Oh yes! He's my uncle. He's out in India."
"Is he? Well have you any other relation of the name?"
"No. Not that I know of. In fact I can't have--or I should have knownit."
"Well then, this one isn't out in India at all. He's in England, andnot very far from London at that. In fact, only about an hour and ahalf by rail, if as much."
Melian stared, then raised herself on one elbow.
r />
"What on earth are you talking about, Violet?" she said. "I tell youhe's in India."
"Well, people come back from India sometimes, don't they?"
"Yes. But I've no interest in this one, nor he in me. He has nevershown any at any rate. I don't want him to either. He wasn't at allnice to my father. He disapproved of his sister marrying him, and, infact, he disapproved of him entirely. No. I couldn't bring myself tobe civil even if I were to see him."
"Have you ever seen him?"
"No."
The word jerked out fiercely. Violet Clinock could see that her friendwas getting excited, and that was bad.
"Then don't be in too great a hurry to pass judgment. Life is--I'm notgoing to say, `too short,' as the silly old chestnut runs, when ifanything it's long enough--but too busy, too hard, to keep grinding awayat ancient grievances, even if they are not entirely or partlyimaginary. It's just possible that this relation of yours may have beena bit misunderstood. Anyway give him the benefit of the doubt."
"Where did you say he is?" said Melian listlessly.
"Clancehurst--or near it, rather," glancing again at the newspaper."Heath Hover, they call his place."
"That sounds rather nice," murmured the invalid.
"It's a jolly part of the country I can tell you," went on Violet,emphatically. Her plot seemed somehow to look hopeful. "I've been nearthat part, and I'd give something for a week or two down there now withmy bike, even though it is winter. The glow of the heather, and thegreen and gold of the waving woods is something to see, I tell you."
"In winter?" smiled Melian artlessly.
"No, you goose. I'm talking about summer and autumn."
"Oh!"
"Shall I read you the paragraph?"
"Yes, do."
The other did so, and then went on to tell her all about the originalmystery, which now came back to her memory. Melian listened, and grewmore and more interested.
"It's funny how the thing should have escaped my attention," she said."But I didn't see the papers regularly at the Carstairs'. Sometimes aday or two would go by--or even longer."
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Melian grew no better. Violet could not stay in to look after her everyday, for she was entirely dependent upon her work, and were she to losethis, why then they would both be in the same boat. So during the dayshe was dependent on the slatternly landlady--who though well meaningand kind according to her lights, was yet slatternly, and very vulgar inher ideas. So the girl would lie there by the hour, feeling too weakand listless even to read, with no more cheering a prospect to look outupon than a vista of black chimney stacks and chimney cowls, takingweird shapes against the grey murk of the London sky. And what wasthere to cheer her? Nothing. Even when she did get well her smallsavings would have vanished, or dwindled to vanishing point, in theincidental expenses of her illness alone, apart from the liquidation ofher medical attendant's claim. The girl felt very wretched, verydespairing, as she lay there day after day in her loneliness. And inthe evening when her friend returned and tried to cheer her, the processgrew more and more difficult.
"This won't do," said the doctor, one morning, coming into Violet'slittle sitting-room with a very grave face. "Is there nowhere that MissSeward could go to for a complete change of air and scene?"
Violet shook her head sadly. She thought of the dwindling purse, and ofher friend's sinking despondency. She thought also of her friend'spride. And then an idea came to her.
"There is only one thing I can think of, doctor," she said suddenly,"and even that may bring forth nothing. But if I tell you, it isentirely in confidence you understand."
"Why that of course," answered the doctor. He was a youngish man, veryhardworking, in a hard-worked and poorly paying practice, and like mostmembers of his profession had more than an ordinary share of intelligenthuman sympathy. He guessed pretty accurately at one of the causes forworry which kept back his patient upstairs--in fact the main cause--andhad been puzzling how to hint, delicately, that so far as he wasconcerned, that cause need not count.
Then Violet told him of the existence of Melian's unknown relative andhow the girl refused to communicate with him, through some notion of--probably mistaken--pride. At the mention of the name and locality DrBarnes brightened up at once.
"By George, so that's her relative!" he said. "I should think I hadheard of that case. Why it was a puzzler--baffled all our people mosteffectually. It isn't likely to be forgotten either in the profession.Here is a man who dies suddenly and mysteriously, and even our expertscan find no definite cause of death. But, there. I'm talking `shop.'Let's get back to Miss Seward. She ought certainly to make herselfknown to this relative of hers--he seems a kind sort of man if only bythe way he has interested himself in the burial of this unknownstranger. Her uncle too. That's near enough. Make her write to him.I tell you in all seriousness that she is getting into a very criticalstate. The only thing for her is a thorough change of air and scene.You know what a hydra-headed beast `flu' is, and its Protean aftereffects. Well, a splendid type of girl like Miss Seward is far tooscarce to spare any effort to save from possible week of that sort. Youmust make her write to him."
"But if she won't? She's got a pretty strong will of her own, I cantell you."
The doctor looked at her for a moment in silence. Then he said:
"In that case write yourself."
Violet clapped her hands.
"Good--and good again?" she cried. "Just the very thing I'd thought ofdoing, and now I've got your authority behind me, why, I will."
Again the doctor looked at her in silence for a moment. Then he said:
"I will take upon myself to advise you further, Miss Clinock. Do so atonce, on your own responsibility. Say nothing to our patient--and sospare her the worry of argument and counter-argument, which would be inthe last degree bad for her at this stage. She will thank you for itafterwards, believe me; and then, if the answer should not besatisfactory, which I can hardly think--she will be spared thatadditional disappointment too. But I tell you, purely professionally,that a change to a quiet country place like Clancehurst, and its pure,splendid air, would be the saving of her. Good-bye. I needn't lookround to-morrow unless you send for me."
"I'll do it at once, this very night," answered Violet briskly."Good-bye, doctor. You have taken something of a weight off my mind."
The next day Violet Clinock took "off," though not without some qualmsof trepidation. She had been taking several "off" of late, and heremployers were getting a bit short. They were rather "fed up" with hersick friend and the absences entailed, and half hinted that a typingsecretary unburdened with sick friends was more in their line, and infact plenty were there ready and waiting. But Violet was shrewd enoughto know her own value, which was really considerably beyond that ofsalary received. However, she fingered the reins delicately.
That day she devoted to Melian, and the general cheering of her up. Thenext or the one after that, at the furthest, should bring a reply to herdiplomatically, but at the same time very humanly, expressed missive toa perfect stranger.
"You must buck up, Melian," she would say. "Why, if the worst came tothe worst didn't old Carstairs say that he would be a friend to you ifever you were in want of one?"
"Pooh! He didn't mean it. It was only something to say--a sort of wellrounded figure of speech to get rid of me comfortably," announced Meliancynically--her illness and growing straits had rendered her cynical."And even if he did, that old cat of his would soon want to know thereason why, I can tell you."
"I don't know. Very likely she has come round, since she's had time tothink things over."
"Come round! Let her come round--or square. Turning one out likethat--at an hour's notice and all about nothing. They're a cad crowdanyhow, and as the old chestnut says--you can't look for anything from apig but a grunt. But even they may find their own turn come ne
xt. OldCarstairs' job isn't such a cocksure business, but very much `up to-daydown to-morrow.' I've heard him say so himself many a time, and giveinstances of it too."
"Well dear, it's a rum world, and to quote another moss-grown chestnut--you never know your luck. Now I've got a notion things are going toturn for you, and in a little while you'll be all on the up grade."
Melian did not answer. Even the up grade indicated meant a dreary vistaof unceasing drudgery, giving the best of her life--her young life--tothe totally unappreciated service of other people, and that for a mereliving wage. Surely she was cut out for something rather different.But her friend would not allow her to get into a despondent vein. Sheswitched the topic of conversation off to other matters, and her effortswere rewarded, for the invalid forgot the standing woes and grievances,and being of an imaginative temperament, soon found herself talkingbrightly, and even laughing. Decidedly here was a marked improvement,concluded the watcher, thankfully.
In due course, and exactly to the time Violet had calculated, came aletter. The girl's eyes brightened as they lit upon the Clancehurstpostmark on the large square envelope, and she could only just restrainherself from rushing into