Read The House of Strange Secrets: A Detective Story Page 27


  CHAPTER XXVII

  THE SQUIRE'S STORY

  (_Being the commencement of the narrative in the little red note-book_)

  "To commence at the very beginning, my dear boy, and in orthodoxfashion, I will state that my name is that by which you have alwaysknown me--Harold Lester Carrington, only son of a worthy naval officerand his wife, who was a younger daughter of the late Sir John Collyer. Iwas born nine-and-fifty years ago at Manchester, received but a moderateeducation, and entered the army at an early age.

  "I was unfortunate enough to lose both my parents while I was quite achild, and, getting into bad company, led what my few relatives--theyare all dead now--considered a wild life. I can safely say, though, thatI never forgot I was the son of gentlefolk, for to both my parents I hadbeen greatly attached.

  "I must have been either twenty-one or twenty-two years of age when Ifirst met Edith Rawson, the charming daughter of my old Colonel. It wasat a garden party, and was a case of love at first sight on both sides.Of course it was foolish in the extreme for me, a penniless lieutenant,to aspire to the hand of wealthy Colonel Rawson's eldest daughter, butthe folly was inevitable. Miss Rawson was the most lovely girl I evercast eyes upon. Mutual love in such cases as ours is hard toconceal--particularly from a woman--and Mrs. Rawson quickly perceivedthings after I had visited the house a few times. She communicated hersuspicions to her husband, and a tremendous row was the result--theupshot of which was that I changed my regiment for one embarking forIndia, bade my loved one a pitiful farewell, re-echoed my vows ofconstancy, promising to return when, judging by Rawson's standard, I wasin a position to claim Edith as my bride, and left England for the greatEastern Empire.

  "I had been forbidden to write, even once a year, to my loved one, andit was with a faint heart that I started life again in Madras. But Iknew that if I wished to succeed I must throw all my energy into thework, and strive my hardest to render myself fit to become Edith'shusband in what seemed a very distant future.

  "Years rolled by, and by degrees, thanks to sundry small skirmishes withdiscontented tribes, I gained the promotion which meant so much. But itwas a sad time for me. Folks may say that 'out of sight' is equivalentto 'out of mind,' but I speak truly when I say that never for a singleday did anyone--any woman--figure in my thoughts except the loved one inthe far-off old country.

  "Periodically I got hold of old society newspapers, sent to us fromLondon, and in these I occasionally came across the name of ColonelRawson's fair daughter. Each time I was thrilled with pleasure to findthat her maiden name still remained to her. Was she true to the devotedyoung officer in India? Of course she was!

  "I was Major Carrington by this time, and young for that, still I knew abeautiful girl like Edith would never want for offers of marriage. Threeor four years had passed since I had discovered the dear name in print.Two or three were likely to drag before there was any chance of myfurther promotion, after which Colonel Rawson had given me permission toreturn home, and, if the mutual affection still existed, marry hisdaughter.

  "Then one day a copy of the _Times_ chanced to reach me, and I casuallycommenced reading by a perusal of the births, marriages, and deathscolumn in that paper. Suddenly I caught sight of an announcement thatcaused me to cry aloud with dismay, with horror, with disappointment.It was painfully brief, but, oh! so plain.

  "'SANDLYNG-RAWSON.--On the 28th ult., at St. Jude's, Aynswell-street, W., George Arthur Sandlyng, of the Priory, Parkham, Bucks, to Edith, daughter of Colonel Rawson, V.C.'

  "Had I considered this paragraph in the light of common sense I wouldnot have acted as I did.

  "In the first place, I should have recollected that Rawson was no rarename, and that the combination of names, Edith Rawson, might occur inany other branch of the Rawson family than the one in which were centredall my hopes.

  "I might, too, have made the following deduction: When I left England,ten years before, the Colonel had not the letters V.C. after his name.As far as I was aware he had not been engaged in active warfare since.Suppose, though, he had, and had won the Victoria Cross, would it nothave been reasonable to suppose that ten years would have seen hispromotion to a generalship, particularly if his conduct had been soconspicuous as to merit the award of the coveted V.C.?

  "But I did not stop to take a rational view of the matter. To me, then,there was no doubt but that Edith--my Edith--had broken her vows to me,and had married. I was filled with murderous thoughts. For the time Iwas mad."