SOLVING THE MYSTERY
At the sight of the master of Durley Dene, Squire Carrington seemed dumfounded. At first he looked as though he fancied the new-comer would suddenly vanish into air.
"Good-afternoon, Major Carrington," remarked the visitor, with the utmost coolness; "you seem surprised to see me."
"Good heavens, Lestrange, I thought you were dead!"
"So did the whole world, and does now," responded the owner of the Dene.
So saying, he walked up to the bedside, and shook hands heartily with the Squire.
"Who'd have thought we should have met under these circumstances?" observed Sir Bromley.
"Ay, sir, in the hour of my joy. You are very welcome."
"Then he is dead? I congratulate you, Carrington, from the bottom of my heart."
He turned to Lena and bowed, shook hands with Laurence, then took a seat by his old friend's bedside.
"Lestrange," said Mr. Carrington, "you look younger than you did twenty-five years ago."
"And I feel it now, though I didn't when these young people were trying to corner me, connecting me for some reason or other with these attempts on your life. So the—you know—is dead?"
And, without hesitation, the Squire, prompted where necessary by Lena and Laurence, commenced to relate the whole story of his career since he had left India, never stopping until he was able to announce that his merciless enemy was dead.
Laurence and the girl had heard the whole story before, except that part of it concerning the second attempt to murder the old gentleman. It appeared that the Squire was undressing on the eventful night, when, turning by chance, he saw the wall suddenly open and a terrible apparition enter. Then he fainted, and knew no more until he found Mrs. Featherston bending over him two days later. This announcement proved that, as Laurence and Lestrange believed, the secret passage under the barn led from Durley Dene into the Squire's bedroom.
Afterwards they explored the passage, and further proved that such was the case.
The Squire's narrative concluded, Sir Bromley turned to the two young people, and with a smile informed them that the moment had now come when he could reveal his secret.
By this time, though, the Squire was quite tired out by his exertions, and, as he had but little interest in the secrets of Durley Dene, the party withdrew, Sir Bromley bidding his old friend a hearty "au revoir," and expressing a hope that he might see the Squire again ere long.
Once seated in the drawing-room, he seemed unwilling to relate the promised story, but, with a little persuasion from Lena, he gave way, and proceeded with a narrative that entirely cleared up the mysteries of the little Yorkshire village and its two largest houses.
"I am by no means sure, even now," he began, "whether I am doing right in divulging for your benefit the secret which I have been at such pains to keep unrevealed, and which you have tried so hard to unravel. At any rate, I have promised to tell you the whole story, and I am going to do so. But I must ask you to let it go no farther—never to refer to it even in conversation between yourselves. You promise? That is right. Then the Princess H—— need have no fear——"
"The Princess H——!" exclaimed Lena.
"The Princess H——" repeated the gentleman slowly; "and, if you will forgive me for saying so, I shall be unable to tell my story if I have any interruptions, as I have much to do to-day.
"Well, as I say, my name is Bromley Lestrange, and further, I am, as you may see for yourselves, very far from being dead.
"To explain things intelligibly, I must go back five-and-twenty years. At that remote period, as your father, Laurence, has told you in the excellent synopsis of his career, I was commanding the 'Red Herrings' (as the old regiment was then nicknamed) at Madras. I was young for my post, but then I had good influence with the authorities. In passing, I may say that my looks are not a good indication of my age, which is—but what matter?
"As you know, I was able to assist Major Carrington in the unhappy affair connected with the Thug opium den. It was I, as you know, who first caused him to realise that the enmity of the Thugs was not to be thought lightly of. I had heard strange tales of the hideous vengeances of these human fiends. When Carrington left India, I did all that was in my power to learn the whereabouts of the girl Lilla, but failed. However, her death was reported soon after the Squire's return to England, and I hastened to acquaint my old friend with the news. Then, as things do, the matter passed from my mind, and, except very occasionally, was not brought under my notice, until you," turning to Laurence, "told me your name on the occasion of your first visit to the Dene.
"After leaving the army and Madras, which I did soon after Carrington, I connected myself with the Court of the Rajah of Punneoda for a short period, then spent a number of years travelling. After which—it would be about the time Carrington took this house, sixteen or seventeen years ago—I returned to England, where I was able to be of some slight service to the Princess H——, who had then lately married.
"It is necessary for you to know the circumstances of this august lady's marriage. She was forced into a union with the late Prince H—— of R——, though, as the busybodies said, she was pledged to another man—a man without the necessary amount of blue blood in his veins.
"She married Prince H——, who, however, died shortly after, leaving her the mother of an infant prince, who, as you will recollect, would, had he lived, be now, with the exception of two lives, heir-apparent to the British throne. You may also recall the fact that the circumstances of Prince H——'s death, and likewise that of his son, were, to say the least of it, remarkable. In the first instance, you may take it from me that the prince did not succumb to the illness specified by the two Royal physicians. He was afflicted with a far more terrible complaint than that of apoplexy. When I reach the end of the story you may judge for yourself what it was.
"Concerning the young prince there were also sinister rumours about the time of his birth. Some said he was born blind, others that he was deformed, a few that he had died and another infant been substituted without the mother's knowledge; but all these reports were incorrect, though there was, indeed, something peculiar about the Royal infant. In fact, the child from its birth was blind, deaf, and dumb!
"Very wisely, this terrible state of affairs was withheld from the world, but the difficulties to be overcome to ensure the secret being kept were very great. As you know, the Princess H——, until the death of her child, at the age of four, resided in the country, where she kept up a small establishment, and lived a remarkably quiet life. The papers stated that the Royal child had died of a severe chill, which had caused a relapse of bronchitis—an ailment to which the boy was supposed to be a martyr. The funeral was necessarily a public affair, but it was noticed that remarkably few Royal personages were present. Why?
"Because," and when Sir Bromley said the words, it was in a whisper, "because the funeral was a sham one—because the child was not dead!" He paused, wiped his forehead with his silk handkerchief, then resumed—
"It was at this time that the newspapers were requested by his sorrowing relatives (all of whom were actually deceived) to announce the death of Sir Bromley Lestrange from cholera. 'The deceased gentleman,' it was said, 'had succumbed to the fell disease while spending a short holiday in Shanghai.'
"Two or three weeks later, an elderly merchant, named Goode, bought a small house in the Highlands of Scotland, where he spent a number of years in the most retiring fashion, the only other inmate of the house being apparently his sister. As a matter of fact, there was a comfortably furnished room in the house in which a small child passed its miserable existence, but not a soul in the neighbourhood, beyond the worthy merchant and his sister, knew of the existence of the child. Need I say that Mr. Goode was Sir Bromley Lestrange, Miss Goode a Miss Lestrange, and the child the 'dead son' and heir of the Princess H——?
"Years passed, and the child became more and more unmanageable. There were occasions when he seemed to be possessed of the strength of a Hercules. It required a second man to look after him. A young doctor was heavily paid to live in the house, and Miss Goode disappeared—to reappear in the world of society, after 'travelling on the Continent' for several years, as Miss Lestrange, 'younger sister of the late Sir Bromley Lestrange, Kt.,' the Court Gazettes mentioned in their 'chit-chat.'
"The young doctor made a discovery when he first examined the child in Mr. Goode's country residence, which, had it been noised abroad, would have explained the mystery of the father's (Prince H——) death.
"The boy was a raving maniac of the most dangerous kind."