Miss Trevick, still holding on to Forde, stretched out her hand to the baronet, who, grasping it firmly, drew her and the barrister round a curve in the gallery and led them some distance further on. Then he stepped off the trolley-lines, and, setting down the light on a deal box, illuminated three or four other candles, until there was quite a blaze of light. The visitors found themselves in a kind of niche which had been hollowed out of the live rock by former workers in the mine. The floor of this niche was slightly above the level of the gallery, and therefore was comparatively dry.
By the light of the candles Dericka saw a pile of dried bracken and grass in one corner, which, as she guessed, served her unfortunate father for a bed. There was also a box containing provisions, and a wood fire smouldered on the verge of the niche, where the smoke could ascend through the gallery. There were no seats, naturally, and the trio had to sit on the rocky ground, which, fortunately, was dry.
Having taken in these details of this cave of Adullam, Dericka looked at her father, and was surprised to see what a change there was in his appearance. Formerly he had been a well-preserved, elderly gentleman, handsome and haughty. Now he was worn and pale, white-haired, and unshaven. His shoulders were bowed, and his waxen face was wrinkled, while his eyes appeared dull and unintelligent.
Dericka was terribly shocked to see what a wreck the poor man had become, and gasped as she looked. Her emotions were too deep to find vent in mere words. Sir Hannibal guessed what she felt, and also he caught sight of the pained expression in Forde’s eyes.
‘Yes,’ said Trevick bitterly, ‘you may well look startled, both of you. This is a change from the Dower House.’
‘A change that will not last long,’ said Forde with a brisk confidence he was far from feeling, ‘you will soon be back again, sir.’
‘Ah, that depends,’ said Trevick significantly.
‘Father!’ Dericka caught his hand convulsively; ‘you will never make me believe that you killed Mr. Bowring.’
‘No, dear; no.’ The baronet patted her hand and seemed pleased to hear her speak in this manner. ‘I am, of course, perfectly innocent, but I have enemies who will use all means to ruin me.’
‘But why, father?’
‘Ah!’ Sir Hannibal heaved a weary sigh; ‘that is a long story.’
‘And probably,’ remarked Forde quickly, ‘the very story we have come to hear, Sir Hannibal.’
The hunted man looked up quickly in his turn.
‘What’s that?’
‘Since you left Gwynne Station for London,’ went on the barrister, ‘we — that is, Dericka and myself — have heard strange things.’
‘About me?’ Trevick’s breath came quickly.
Forde nodded. ‘Yes; and about Polwin.’
‘Polwin — my steward?’
‘Yes,’ said Dericka pointedly; ‘about your steward, Samuel Krent.’
The baronet started, and squeezed his daughter’s hand so severely that she winced.
‘How do you know that Polwin’s name is Krent?’
‘Ah,’ said Dericka, mimicking her father’s former speech, ‘that is a long story.’
‘I don’t understand your tone, my child,’ said Sir Hannibal, trying to suppress his agitation.
‘We don’t understand one another,’ remarked Forde with a shrug. ‘It will be best that you should tell us everything.’
‘About what?’ asked the baronet, persistently obstinate.
‘About the Death’s Head, for one thing.’
‘I know nothing about that, Forde.’
‘What, not about Moolu and his —’
‘Who told you that?’ interrupted Trevick imperiously, and much agitated by the significant tone of the barrister.
‘Mrs. Bowring.’
‘Who is she? Bowring’s wife died years ago.’
‘I mean young Mrs. Bowring — Morgan’s wife.’
‘You know about that secret marriage, then,’ stammered Trevick.
Forde looked at him steadily.
‘You seem to have forgotten a great deal, Sir Hannibal,’ said he dryly; ‘of course we know. Do you remember some time ago, we —’
‘Yes, yes,’ Sir Hannibal interrupted again; ‘of course. The rumour was to be put about that I agreed to Dericka marrying Morgan, and then Mrs. Krent was to announce the former marriage. I know — I know; but, what with trouble and nervous fears, I forget much.’
‘Poor father,’ said Miss Trevick softly; ‘but we have not much time to remain here, father. Tell us all quickly, and we will see how you can come back to the Dower House.’
‘I cannot do that, Dericka. Things are too black against me.’
‘You must come, father; you must meet your accusers.’
‘Dericka, I dare not face that warrant. I was absent from the fete when Bowring was killed, but how can I prove that?’
‘Polwin can prove it,’ said Forde quickly.
‘Polwin won’t,’ said Sir Hannibal bitterly. ‘The man is a villain, and wants to ruin me. Why, I can’t say, seeing that he has received nothing but kindness at my hands.’
‘Many people resent kindness,’ said Forde, with a shrug, ‘and try to harm the person who has benefited them. But the position is this, Sir Hannibal; Polwin declares that after Miss Stretton left the fete with Mr. Penrith you went out on your motor-bicycle by the second road, which runs behind the hill. He — Polwin, that is — met you somewhere on the moors, and you asked him if he had seen Miss Stretton. He had not, as they had driven by the other road. Had you gone by that one, you would have caught them up. As it was, you gave the bicycle to Polwin and sent him on to Penrith Manor with a letter for Miss Stretton. Then you —’
‘Then I returned to St. Ewalds,’ continued Trevick quickly, ‘but not to the fete. Listen, Forde, and you, Dericka. I love Miss Stretton, I want to marry her. On the day of the fete had you not appeared I should have asked her to be my wife. But there was no time, and she went away with Penrith, who I knew was in love with her. I thought he might propose before I did and that I would lose Anne. I therefore wrote a hasty letter asking her to be my wife, and took my motor-bicycle, intending to catch her up and give her the letter.’
‘Was there any need of such a letter?’ asked Dericka pointedly. ‘You could have caught up Miss Stretton and proposed.’
‘What, when Penrith was there? How ridiculous you are, Dericka. I intended to slip the letter into her hand on some excuse and then return. Unfortunately I took the second road, whereas Penrith had driven home by the first road.’
‘Where the murder took place?’
‘Precisely. When I was on the second road, about opposite to this mine, I met Polwin coming across the hill from the quarries. I was tired, and asked him to take the motor-bicycle and follow up Miss Stretton. He consented. Then I walked home and strolled on the beach below the Manor House until dinner time.’
‘Why did you not return to the fete?’ asked Dericka.
The baronet’s pale cheek reddened.
‘I was in love, you see, Dericka, as I am now, and wished to think of the woman I loved. But you see I cannot prove an alibi, as no one to my knowledge saw me on the beach. Consequently, as Bowring, with whom I had quarrelled, was murdered at the time, I am in a dangerous position.’
‘Miss Stretton saw you on the bank near the granite mass which was afterwards heaved on to the road to smash Bowring’s motor.’
‘Forde!’ said the baronet, starting violently when the barrister made this speech. ‘Miss Stretton is my friend: she would not say that.’
‘Is it true, father?’
‘No, Dericka; on my soul it is not true. I acted as I said, and when Polwin went off on the motor I walked back to wander on the beach.’
Dericka looked at Forde, and he at her.
‘Strange!’ said the barrister, much puzzled. ‘I wonder, Sir Hannibal, if anyone was masquerading as you? Miss Stretton declares that she saw you.’
‘I don’t know who can or who did masquerade as me,’ said Trevick calmly, ‘but I assuredly was not near the scene of the murder at that time. But you had better tell me all you know, and then we may see light.’
‘I’ll tell you everything,’ said Forde, after a pause; ‘but in return you must be absolutely frank.’
‘I promise that. Go on.’
The barrister was obliged to be content with this curt promise, and therefore related all that had taken place since his arrival in St. Ewalds. He related the interview with Polwin, the visit of Morgan with the letter dropped by Miss Stretton in Anak’s hut, and finally detailed the strange story about Polwin, alias Krent, related by young Mrs. Bowring.
Trevick listened quietly, with his hand in that of his daughter, and did not interrupt until nearly the end of the story. Then his frequent interruptions showed how indignant he was. Finally, when Oswald had nearly, but not quite, concluded, his indignation took the form of words.
