‘No doubt, Warrender, no doubt. No one denies that she has good qualities, but they have been exercised greatly to the detriment of the earl. Young men will be young men, but there comes a time when such things must be put a stop to, and the time has come to stop this. You will have a legal mistress now—a lady of high birth, who will rule the house as it should be ruled, and the sooner you all forget that such a person as Miss Llewellyn existed the better!’
‘Perhaps so, sir; but, meanwhile, what are we to do about this?’
‘Do nothing at all! She will come back safe enough, you may depend upon that, and I will write to her to-morrow and tell her she must fix a day for leaving the house. I want to put the workmen in as soon as possible!’
‘Very good, sir,’ said the butler, humbly, as he retired.
But the next thing Mr Sterndale did was to read the account in his Standard of Nell’s attempted suicide, and the coincidence naturally struck him. It did not flurry him in the least. It only made the thought flash through his mind what a fortunate thing it would be if it were true. He threw up his engagements for the day and took his way at once to the river police station to make all possible inquiries about the suicide. He did not hear much more than he had read; but the description of the woman’s figure and dress, together with the time the accident occurred, all tallied so wonderfully with the fact of Nell’s disappearance, that the solicitor considered that he had every reason to hope it might have been herself who had thus most opportunely left the course clear for the happiness of Lord Ilfracombe and his bride. He seconded the efforts of the police to discover the truth, offering a handsome reward for the recovery of the body for identification, and when a week passed without its being found, or Miss Llewellyn returning to Grosvenor Square, he considered it his duty to institute a search amongst the property she had left behind to see if he could find any clue to the mystery. He told the servants that he did so in order to try and find an address to send them after her to; but they all knew by this time that something had happened to their late mistress, and that it was unlikely they should ever see her again, and, to do them justice, there was very sincere sorrow in the servants’ hall at the idea. Mr Sterndale would not allow anybody to assist him in his search. He ransacked poor Nell’s chest of drawers and wardrobe by himself, turned over her dainty dresses and laced and embroidered stock of linen, opened all her workbags and boxes, her desk and blotting books, but found not a line to intimate she had entertained any idea of taking her own life.
‘Pooh!’ said Mr Sterndale to himself, as he wiped the dew off his pale face, ‘I’ve been alarming myself for nothing! It’s another lover the jade will be looking after, and not a watery grave! People in their right mind don’t commit suicide, and she was as sane as I am. She has most probably sought shelter with Mr Jack Portland or some other of the earl’s swell friends. I know she was universally admired, and there will be a rush to the bidding as soon as it becomes known that she’s put up for sale. However, these pretty things had better be put under lock and key till his lordship sends word how they are to be disposed of.’
With that he came to the trinket-case which Nell had locked, and the key of which she had thrown out of the window.
‘Holloa!’ he thought, ‘what is this? Another workbox? No. I fancy it is the sort of article women keep their rings in. He gave her some beauties; but I don’t suppose she has been such a fool as to leave them behind her.’
He tried every key on a bunch he had found on the dressing-table, but none would fit; so, after a few attempts with another bunch from his own pocket, he took out his penknife and prised the lock open. The first thing he saw, laid on the top of the rings, brooches and bracelets, was Nell’s pathetic message to her lover. ‘Good-bye, my only love—I cannot live without you!’ Mr Sterndale read it, and shivered like an aspen leaf. Had Nell’s ghost stood by his side, he could not have been more alarmed and nervous. ‘Good-bye, my only love—I cannot live without you!’ he muttered to himself, while he trembled anew and glanced fearfully over his shoulder.
‘So that must really have been her, and she has destroyed herself!’ he thought. ‘I never really believed it would come to that—never. But it is Lord Ilfracombe’s concern, not mine. It was he that drove her to it. I only acted on his orders, and I am bound to obey him, if he tells me to do a thing. But who would have thought it was in her. She must have felt his marriage very much. I didn’t believe it was in women to care for any man to such an extent. But, perhaps, after all, it was only the loss of her position, illegal as it was, that turned her a bit crazy. It can’t be pleasant after having enjoyed such a home as this to go back to work. Yet she wouldn’t take the money he offered her—a noble compensation. She didn’t seem to think even that enough. Well, well, it is incomprehensible. All the female sex are. To think that she should have preferred death—death! But what am I saying? It may not have been Miss Llewellyn after all. We have no proof. Doubtless, it was some unfortunate who had come to the end of her tether. But it would never do to tell Lord Ilfracombe my suspicions—not yet, at all events, while he is on his wedding tour. Time enough when he has sobered down into a steady married man; then, perhaps, the news will come rather as a relief from all fear of meeting the object of his youthful indiscretion again. Yet, under the water—that beautiful face and figure! It seems too terrible. I must not think of it. There is no reason it should trouble me in the very slightest degree.’