her friend's room, after the early morningpostal delivery.
"Melian, here's a letter for you,"--throwing it down on the bed.
"Letter? What? I've no one to get letters from--unless it's anotherfrom that silly little booby, Dicky Carstairs," she added bitterly."Only, how should he write to me here? Oh, I suppose it's only one ofthe deferred answers to one of my applications. `Will write and let youknow.' You know the rigmarole--`Mrs Stick-in-the-mud is exceedinglysorry'--and all that sort of thing. Well, let's see."
The while Violet had been on tenter-hooks lest the other should spot theClancehurst postmark, and perhaps decline, in her absurd pride, to openthe letter at all. But Melian tore open the envelope leisurely andlistlessly, and then her brows contracted as she took in the contents ofthe large square sheet--and the excited watcher saw a flush of redsuffuse the sweet, delicate face. This was what she read.
"Heath Hover, Near Clancehurst.
"My dear Melian,--
"I am deeply distressed, and more than glad at what I hear about you;the first that you have been so ill, the second that it has given me theopportunity of coming into touch with you at all. I had no idea whereyou were--I have not been very long back from India, remember--andneither you nor anybody else has ever communicated with me, or given meany information at all with regard to you. But I am only too thankfulthat now--though late in the day--I have such.
"Now I am losing no time in writing to say that you must pack up andcome to me here, at once, and make this your home for as long as everyou like to make it so. I am getting an old man and am quite alone, soit may be dull for you, but at present, anyhow, a whiff of pure, fresh,country air, on top of that beastly London fog in winter, may well setyou up after your illness. Although winter, you will enjoy it as acontrast to town smoke, I should think. So wire or write the train Ishall expect you by at Clancehurst, and I will be there to meet you.There are reasons why I cannot leave home at present, so am unable tocome up to town personally to fetch you, as I should otherwise have beenglad to do.
"Believe me, my dear child,--
"Your affectionate uncle,--
"John Seward Mervyn.
"PS. Illness involves expense. You will accept a trifle towards such."
Two five pound notes remained in the envelope. The long white fingerstook them out, and even in the act the girl appreciated the delicacywhich should have placed them there until the letter should first havebeen read. She handed the letter to Violet, while the tears began towell forth from her wearied blue eyes.
"Hurrah!" cried the latter, having read it. "This uncle of yours is abrick, Melian--a real hard, cemented brick." Then growing serious."Such a sweet letter too. There, I told you better times were coming,didn't I?"
"You had no business to have written to him. I never told you youmight," was the weakly reproachful reply.
And then the two girls, the ill one and the well--the ill one becauseshe was ill--the well one out of sympathy, had a good cry together, andthere was much hugging and they were happy.
CHAPTER NINE.
THE ARRIVAL.
John Seward Mervyn was seated within the same armchair in which we firstsaw him gazing at the mysterious and shadowy door in the corner--but nowit was the middle of a brilliant winter forenoon--and he was occupied inthe reperusal of two letters, not bearing even date, for one was that ofViolet Clinock informing him of his niece's existence and illness, whilethe other was from his niece herself.
Comparing this with the former epistle he smiled to himself. Violet'sglowing description of her friend, and her multifold attractions, bothphysical and mental, amused him. He was gratified, too, that his nieceshould prove neither unattractive nor a fool. Melian's missive, on theother hand, struck him as rather strained and stiff as to style, butthen, she had been ill, and likewise was he not a perfect stranger toher?
How would the experiment work, he was speculating? If satisfactorily,why should she not make her home with him altogether? He was not soyoung as he used to be, but there was plenty of "go" in him yet, and hewas not deficient in ideas; perhaps she might not find him quite such anold bore as she probably expected to find. He gathered from herfriend's letter that she had gone through no particularly glowing times,nor were there any likely to be in store for her; and life here,quietly, and at any rate for a while, might be the very thing to makethe girl happy, dull under ordinary circumstances as such life might be.
There was one point, however, as to which he was not without secretmisgiving. By this time no doubt was left in his own mind as to therebeing something about this house that was not about other houses; andwhich, for want of a better word, he described to himself as an"influence." He had experienced it himself, when sitting alone of anevening, and even in broad daylight. Sounds, too, shadowy, vague, andexplicable by no natural or material cause--again as to such there couldbe no two opinions. And this girl who was coming had been ill, andnaturally her nerves would not be at their best. It would be ghastly ifshe were to undergo the shock of some sudden fright.
With this in view he himself occupied the room he had destined for her,until she should arrive. But absolutely nothing untoward occurred todisturb him, either waking or sleeping. Further, he got hold of old Joeand his ancient spouse, and charged them by every consideration likelyto carry weight, that they were on no account--by word, nod or wink--tolet fall the slightest hint to the visitor as to there being any storiesafloat about Heath Hover at all.
"I'll not nabble, b'lieve me, Mus' Mervyn," old Judy had said, clickingher Punch-like profile together, "I don't b'lieve in nabbling on thingslike they. Folkses finds 'em out soon enough--"
"If there's anything to be found," supplied the master. "Here thereisn't, you understand, Judy?" And the old woman declared that she did,and Joe emphasised the statement by a brace of emphatic nods.
The fact was that strict fealty to their employer came entirely withinthis old couple's interests, for he remunerated them at rather more thandouble the rate of earnings they could have obtained from any othersource or sources. John Seward Mervyn was shrewd, though poor. When hehad to lay out money he did so to the best of advantage, and in theproper quarter.
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The mysterious end of the mysterious stranger had been very much of anine days' wonder. It had puzzled the police, and, more importantstill, perhaps, it had puzzled the doctors. There had been an inquestof course, and a great deal of disagreement among doctors. Mervyn'sevidence was perfectly straight and to the point; given sostraightforwardly too, that none who heard entertained the slightestdoubt as to its thorough exhaustiveness; and his narrative of the rescueof the stranger in the freezing midnight, only for the latter to meethis death so mysteriously but a few hours later, created something of asensation. But the official mind listened to it all with some reserveand the official mind, as represented by Inspector Nashby and the expertfrom Scotland Yard, resolved to keep a continuous but furtive eye--andthat for sometime to come--upon the goings out and comings in of MrJohn Seward Mervyn.
Old Joe Sayers, too, gave his evidence with straightforwardness, butthat he was constantly harking back, with the suspicious persistency ofthe countryman, to the fact that he had never seen the deceased whenalive. Likewise when he began to "feel his feet," he volunteered againthe opinion which we heard him enunciate to his master, that "folks asgets on the ice, middle of Plane Pond, middle of the night, etc, bean'tup to no good;" a remark whose _naivete_ drew forth a great laugh, andlikewise an admonition from the coroner that the witness should notvolunteer opinions containing an imputation of motive until he was askedfor it--which admonition for the most part was sheer Sanscrit to oldJoe.
Not the least strange side of the investigation lay in the fact that noamount of enquiry was able to elicit any information whatever as to theprevious movements of the stranger. The heavy snowfall which hadsupervened upon the arrival of the doctor and the police inspector a
tHeath Hover had lasted a couple of days, and had utterly obliterated alland every trace. Further, none of the dwellers in the neighbourhood--whether in village or scattered cottages--could be found to speak as tohaving noticed any stranger at all, let alone one bearing the slightestresemblance to the circulated descriptions. The man might have appearedout of nowhere. So the verdict was an open one, and the man was buriedat the expense of Mervyn and a few more who came forward withsubscriptions toward that end--as we have said.
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Mervyn sat scanning the two letters, as though to make the utmost hecould out of every word and line of each. In his heart of hearts hefelt rather impatient. His was not such an eventful life but that theimpending