The Mask Falls.

There was a ‘stop press’ that evening in the county paper —‘We have just learned that a body has been disinterred, early this afternoon, under very strange circumstances, in the neighbourhood of Gylingden; and if the surmises which are afloat prove well-founded, the discovery will set at rest the speculations which have been busy respecting the whereabouts of a certain gentleman of large property and ancient lineage, who, some time since, mysteriously disappeared, and will, no doubt, throw this county into a state of very unusual excitement. We can state, upon authority, that the coroner will hold his inquest on the body, to-morrow at twelve o’clock, in the town of Gylingden.

There was also an allusion to Captain Lake’s accident — with the expression of a hope that it would ‘prove but a trifling one,’ and an assurance ‘that his canvass would not be prevented by it — although for a few days it might not be a personal one. But his friends might rely on seeing him at the hustings, and hearing him too, when the proper time arrived.’

It was quite well known, however, in Gylingden, by this time, that Captain Lake was not to see the hustings — that his spine was smashed — that he was lying on an extemporised bed, still in his clothes, in the little parlour of Redman’s Farm — cursing the dead mare in gasps — railing at everybody — shuddering whenever they attempted to remove his clothes — hoping, in broken sentences, that his people would give Bracton and — good licking. Bracton’s outrage was the cause of the entire thing — and so help him Heaven, so soon as he should be on his legs again, he would make him feel it, one way or other.

Buddle thought he was in so highly excited a state, that his brain must have sustained some injury also.

He asked Buddle about ten o’clock (having waked up from a sort of stupor)—‘what about Jim Dutton?’ and then, whether there was not some talk about a body they had found, and what it was. So Buddle told him all that was yet known, and he listened very attentively.

‘But Larkin has been corresponding with Mark Wylder up to a very late day, and if this body has been so long buried, how the devil can it be he? And if it be as bodies usually are after such a time, how can anybody pretend to identify it? And I happen to know that Mark Wylder is living,’ he added, suddenly.

The doctor told him not to tire himself talking, and offered, if he wished to make a statement before a magistrate, to arrange that one should attend and receive it.

‘I rather dislike it, because Mark wants to keep it quiet; but if, on public grounds, it is desirable, I will make it, of course. You’ll use your discretion in mentioning the subject.’

So the captain was now prepared to acknowledge the secret meeting of the night before, and to corroborate the testimony of his attorney and his butler.

Stanley Lake had now no idea that his injuries were dangerous. He said he had a bad bruise under his ribs, and a sprained wrist, and was a little bit shaken; and he talked of his electioneering as only suspended for a day or two.

Buddle, however, thought the case so imminent, that on his way to the ‘Brandon Arms,’ meeting Larkin, going, attended by his clerk, again to the vicar’s house, he stopped him for a moment, and told him what had passed, adding, that Lake was so frightfully injured, that he might begin to sink at any moment, and that by next evening, at all events, he might not be in a condition to make a deposition.

‘It is odd enough — very odd,’ said Larkin. ‘It was only an hour since, in conversation with our policeman, Edwards, that I mentioned the fact of my having myself travelled from London to Shillingsworth last night with Mr. Mark Wylder, who went on by train in this direction, I presume, to meet our unfortunate friend, Captain Lake, by appointment. Thomas Sleddon, of Wadding Hall — at this moment in the “Brandon Arms”— is just the man; if you mention it to him, he’ll go up with you to Redman’s Farm, and take the deposition. Let it be a deposition, do you mind; a statement is mere hearsay.’

Comforted somewhat, reassured in a certain way, and in strong hopes that, at all events, such a muddle would be established as to bewilder the jury, Mr. Jos. Larkin, with still an awful foreboding weighing at his heart, knocked at the vicar’s door, and was shown into the study. A solitary candle being placed, to make things bright and pleasant for the visitor, who did not look so himself, the vicar, very pale, and appearing to have grown even thinner since he last saw him, entered, and shook his hand with an anxious attempt at a smile, which faded almost instantly.

‘I am so delighted that you have come. I have passed a day of such dreadful agitation. Poor Mark!’

‘There is no doubt, Sir, whatsoever that he is perfectly well. Three different persons — unexceptionable witnesses — can depose to having seen him last night, and he had a long conference with Captain Lake, who is by this time making his deposition. It is with respect to the other little matter — the execution of the deed of conveyance to Messrs. Burlington and Smith’s clients. You know my feeling about the note I wrote this morning a little — I will not say incautiously, because with a client of your known character and honour, no idea of the sort can find place — but I will say thoughtlessly. If there be any hanging back, or appearance of it, it may call down unpleasant — indeed, to be quite frank, ruinous — consequences, which, I think, in the interest of your family, you would hardly be justified in invoking upon the mere speculation of your respected brother’s death.’

There was a sound of voices at the door. ‘Do come in — pray do,’ was heard in Dolly’s voice. ‘Won’t you excuse me, but pray do. Willie, darling, don’t you wish him to come in?’

‘Most particularly. Do beg of him, in my name — and I know Mr. Larkin would wish it so much.’

And so Lord Chelford, with a look which, at another time, would have been an amused one, quite conscious of the oddity of his introduction, came in and slightly saluted Mr. Larkin, who was for a few seconds pretty obviously confounded, and with a pink flush all over his bald forehead, tried to smile, while his hungry little eyes searched the viscount with fear and suspicion.

Larkin’s tone was now much moderated. Any sort of dealing was good enough for the simple vicar; but here was the quiet, sagacious peer, who had shown himself, on two remarkable committees, so quick and able a man of business, and the picture of the vicar’s situation, and of the powers and terrors of Messrs. Burlington and Smith, were to be drawn with an exacter pencil, and far more delicate colouring.

Lord Chelford listened so quietly that the tall attorney felt he was making way with him, and concluded his persuasion by appealing to him for an opinion.

‘That is precisely as I said. I knew my friend, Mr. Larkin, would be only too glad of an opinion in this difficulty from you,’ threw in the vicar.

The opinion came — very clear, very quiet, very unpleasant — dead against Mr. Larkin’s view, and concluding with the remark that he thought there was more in the affair than had yet come to light.

‘I don’t see exactly how, my lord,’ said Mr. Larkin, a little loftily, and redder than usual.

‘Nor do I, Mr. Larkin, at present; but the sum offered is much too small, and the amount of costs and other drawbacks utterly monstrous, and the result is, after deducting all these claims, including your costs, Mr. Larkin ——’

Here Mr. Larkin threw up his chin a little, smiling, and waving his long hand, and saying, ‘Oh! as to mine,’ in a way that plainly expressed, ‘They are merely put down for form’s sake. It is playing at costs. You know Jos. Larkin — he never so much as dreamed of looking for them.’

‘There remain hardly nine hundred and fifty pounds applicable to the payment of the Reverend Mr. Wylder’s debts — a sum which would have been ample, before this extraordinary negotiation was commenced, to have extricated him from all his pressing difficulties, and which I would have been only too happy at being permitted to advance, and which, and a great deal more, Miss Lake, whose conduct has been more than kind — quite noble — wished to place in your client’s hands.’

‘That,’ said the attorney, flushing a little, ‘I believe to have been technically impossible; and it was accompanied by a proposition which was on other grounds untenable.’

‘You mean Miss Lake’s proposed residence here — an arrangement, it appears to me, every way most desirable.’

‘I objected to it on, I will say, moral grounds, my lord. It is painful to me to disclose what I know, but that young lady accompanied Mr. Mark Wylder, my lord, in his midnight flight from Dollington, and remained in London, under, I presume, his protection for some time.’

‘That statement, Sir, is, I happen to know, utterly contrary to fact. The young lady you mention never even saw Mr. Mark Wylder, since she took leave of him in the drawing-room at Brandon; and I state this not in vindication of her, but to lend weight to the caution I give you against ever again presuming to connect her name with your surmises.’

The peer’s countenance was so inexpressibly stern, and his eyes poured such a stream of fire upon the attorney, that he shrank a little, and looked down upon his great fingers which were drumming, let us hope, some sacred music upon the table.

‘I am truly rejoiced, my lord, to hear you say so. Except to the young party herself, and in this presence, I have never mentioned it; and I can show you the evidence on which my conclusions rested.’

‘Thank you — no Sir; my evidence is conclusive.’

I don’t know what Mr. Larkin would have thought of it; it was simply Rachel’s letter to her friend Dolly Wylder on the subject of the attorney’s conference with her at Redman’s Farm. It was a frank and passionate denial of the slander, breathing undefinably, but irresistibly, the spirit of truth.

‘Then am I to understand, in conclusion,’ said the attorney, that defying all consequences, the Rev. Mr. Wylder refuses to execute the deed of sale?’

‘Certainly,’ said Lord Chelford, taking this reply upon himself.

‘You know, my dear Mr. Wylder, I told you from the first that Messrs. Burlington and Smith were, in fact, a very sharp house; and I fear they will execute any powers they possess in the most summary manner.’ Th............