Everything looked very quiet at the old house by the river. The butler came to the door. Miss Harefield had gone away with Madame Leonard at six o’clock that morning. The carriage had taken them to the railway station at Great Yafford. No one had gone with them but the coachman, and he had not left his box. The porters had carried the luggage into the station. Yes, there was a good deal of luggage. The big cases were to be sent to a furniture warehouse in London.
The house was to remain in the care of the butler, and Mrs. Peters, the housekeeper. The servants were to be on board wages. Mr. Scratchell was to arrange everything.
Mr. Scratchell came in while Sir Kenrick was questioning the butler. He too had received a letter from Beatrix, which he allowed Kenrick to read.
‘Dear Mr. Scratchell,—I am going abroad, most likely for a long time. Please receive the rents, as usual, attend to all repairs, and pay in all moneys to the bank, as heretofore. I shall be obliged if you will give the servants whatever allowance is liberal and proper for board wages. This had better be paid monthly, in advance. Please see that the house and grounds are kept in good order, and that all my subscriptions to local and other charities are regularly paid.
‘Mr. Dulcimer is to have any money he may require for his poor.’
‘Yours very truly,
‘Beatrix Harefield.’
‘Business-like,’ said Mr. Scratchell, ‘but I’m afraid the poor young woman is not quite right in her mind. Do you know what she has done about the mortgages on your property?’
‘Yes,’ answered Kenrick. ‘You don’t suppose I am going to keep the money?’
‘I don’t suppose you’d be so demented as to give it back,’ said Mr. Scratchell. ‘You’d better keep it. If she doesn’t make ducks and drakes of it one way, she will another. What was your quarrel about?’
‘Quarrel,’ echoed Kenrick, and then it occurred to him that it was just as well to let this vulgarian Scratchell believe that he and Beatrix had quarrelled.
How could a piece of such common clay as Mr. Scratchell comprehend the finer feelings of human porcelain? He only thought it cracked.
There was nothing more to be discovered at the Water House. Beatrix and her companion had gone. That was all. Miss Harefield had made her arrangements with coolness and promptitude. It might be just possible to follow her. But to what end?