In the Dead of Night: A Novel. Volume 3 (of 3)

by T. W. Speight

With such a sword as this hanging over his head, Kester felt that it was impossible for him to leave Park Newton. When the man should learn that Mother Mim was dead, which he probably would do in the course of a few days, and when the restraining power which had doubtless kept him silent should be removed for ever, what was to prevent him from telling all that he knew, or, at least, from giving such broad hints as to the information in his possession as might lead to inquiry—to many inquiries, perchance: to far more than Kester would care to encounter—unless he should ever be so unfortunate as to be driven to bay?

But, as yet, he was not driven to bay, nor anything like it. It behoved him, therefore, or so it seemed to him, to make certain cautious inquiries as to the whereabouts of Mr. William Bendall, with the view of ascertaining what kind of a man he was, or whether there was any danger to be apprehended from him. And if so, how could the danger best be met?

It was quite evident that it would be unadvisable for Kester to leave Park Newton while these inquiries were afoot. He might be wanted at any hour should Mr. Bendall, when found, prove intractable; so he stayed on at the old place, very much against his will in other respects. But, to a certain extent, his patience had already been rewarded. Mr. Bendall’s address had been discovered, and Mr. Bendall himself had been found to be first cousin to Mother Mim, and a railway ganger by profession. But just at this time he was away from home—his home being at Swarkstone, a great centre of railway industry, about twenty miles from Duxley—he having been sent out to Russia in charge of a cargo of railway plant. He was now expected back in the course of a few days, and Kester determined not to leave the neighbourhood till he had found out for himself what manner of man he was.

We may here finally dispose of Skeggs. His body was not found till two days after Kester’s visit to it. There, too, was found his broken leg, so that the nature of the accident he had met with was clearly seen, and it was at once understood how he had come by his death. No one except the girl Nell had seen Kester St. George in his company, so, as it fell out, that gentleman’s name was never even whispered in connexion with the affair.

The future of Nell had been a point that Mr. St. George had anxiously discussed in his own mind, after Mother Mim’s death. What to do with such a strange girl he knew not, nor how best to secure her silence. Did she really know anything, as she asserted that she did, or did she not? If anything, how much did she know, and to what use did she intend to put her knowledge? Kester had no opportunity of talking to her in private before the funeral, so he made an appointment with her for the morning following that event. She was to meet him at a certain milestone on the Duxley Road at eleven o’clock. Kester was there to the minute. But Miss Nell was not there, nor did she come at all. Kester went back home in a fume, and after luncheon he rode over to Mother Mim’s cottage without once slackening rein. There he found the old woman who had been looking after matters previously to the funeral: From her he ascertained that Nell had disappeared about two hours after her return from seeing the last of her grandmother, taking with her her new black frock and a few other things tied up in a bundle, and had given no hint as to where she was going, or whether it was her intention ever to come back.

The girl’s disappearance had been a source of considerable disquietude to Kester for several days, but as time passed on without bringing any sign of her, or any information as to where she was, his uneasiness gradually wore itself away, till he came at last to persuade himself that from that quarter at least there was no possible danger to be apprehended.

But had it not been for another and a much more potent reason, Kester St. George would certainly not have spent the eighth of May at Park Newton, not even though he could not have left it till the seventh, and had been compelled to come back to it on the ninth. He would have gone somewhere—anywhere if only for a dozen hours—if only from sunset till sunrise, had it in anyway been possible for him to do so. But it so happened that it was not possible for him to do so. On the fifth he received a letter from his uncle, which astonished him very much. General St. George was still staying at Salisbury with his sick friend, Major Beauchamp. He wrote as under:

“All being well, I shall be back at Park Newton on the eighth instant, but for a few hours only. I don’t know whether your cousin Richard has told you that he is tired of England, and has decided upon going out to New Zealand, and that he has persuaded me to go with him.”

“The old fool! To think of going to New Zealand at his time of life!” muttered Kester. “Of course, it’s Master Richard’s dodge to take him with him, so as to make sure of his money when he dies. Well, if I can only get rid of the young one, the old one may go with him, and welcome.” Then he went on with his uncle’s letter.

“I shall reach Park Newton on the eighth, about four P.M., when I hope to spend the evening with you. It will be my last evening at the old place, and there are several things I wish to talk to you about. We—that is, Richard and I, leave by the eight o’clock train next morning direct for Gravesend, where the ship will be waiting for us. By this day next week, I shall have bidden a final farewell to dear Old England.”