The Wooden Hand. Hume Fergus
my son should belong to a circus! Ah, I always said Cain was born for the gallows, like his father."
"But you don't know if his father-"
"I know what I know," replied Mrs. Merry with dignity, "which is to say, nothing. But Giles is what Giles was, and has everything likely to bring him to a rope's end. I'll be the wife of one hanged man," added the old woman with relish, "and the mother of another. Then my cup of misery will be full enough. But, bless me, Miss Eva, don't stay here, getting that pretty dress all greasy. Go and wait for your pa in the doring-room, and I'll bring in the dinner as soon as I hear him swearing-for swear he will, if he arrive."
"Of course he'll arrive," said Eva impatiently, looking at the clock, which now indicated five minutes past eight; "he's a little late."
Mrs. Merry shook her head. "He'll not come. He's in the Red Deeps, lying face downward in the mud."
Eva grew angry at this persistent pessimism, but nothing she could say or do, was able to change Mrs. Merry's opinion. Finding that more talk with the prophetess only made her angry, Eva returned to the front of the house, and, sitting in the drawing-room, took up the last fashionable novel which she had borrowed. But not all the talent of the author was able to enchain her attention. She kept thinking of her father and of the Red Deeps, and kept also looking at the clock. It was drawing to nine when she went again to the front door, subsequently to the gate.
There was no sign of Cain coming back. He had appeared like a ghost and had vanished as one. Why the whistle should have made him turn pale and take so abrupt a departure, Eva was not able to say. Moreover, the non-arrival of her father fully occupied her attention. She could not believe that her dream, vivid as it had been, would prove true and set down her nervous fears, which were now beginning to get the upper hand, to Mrs. Merry's chatter. That old woman appeared at her elbow while she leaned over the gate, looking down the road.
"He ain't come," croaked Mrs. Merry. "Bless you, deary, of course he ain't. I know where he is, and you saw him in your dream."
"Nonsense," said Eva, and ran out on to the road. A few people were passing-mostly villagers, but Eva was well known and no one was surprised at seeing her hatless. Even if any one had expressed surprise, she was too anxious to trouble much about public opinion.
"Aaron," she asked an old man who came trudging down from the common, "did you see my father coming along in a fly?"
"Why, miss," said Aaron scratching his shock head, "it's a matter of five year since I saw your father, and I don't rightly know as I'd tell him. But I ain't seen nothing but carts this evening, ay, and you might say bicycles."
"No fly?"
"Not one, miss. Good-evening. I dare say your father will walk, miss, by reason of the hot evening."
This suggestion was the very reverse of what Mr. Strode would do, he being a gentleman mindful of his own comfort. However, after the rustic had departed, Eva ran up as far as the common. There was no sign of any vehicle, so she returned to the cottage. Mrs. Merry met her at the door.
"The dinner spiling," said Mrs. Merry crossly; "do come and eat some, Miss Eva, and I'll keep the dishes hot."
"No, I'll wait till my father comes. Is Cain back?"
"Not a sign of him. But, lor bless you, deary, I never expected it, not me. He's gone to his circuses; to think that a son of mine-"
But the girl was in no humour to hear the lamentations of Mrs. Merry over the decay of her family, and returned to the drawing-room. There she sat down again and began to read-or try to.
Mrs. Merry came in at half-past nine, and brought a cup of tea, with a slice of toast. Eva drank the tea, but declined the toast, and the old woman retired angrily, to remove the spoilt dinner. Then Eva played a game of patience, and at ten threw down the cards in despair. The non-arrival of her father, coupled with her dream, made her restless and uneasy. "I wish Allen would return," she said aloud. But Allen never appeared, although by now he had ample time to reach the Red Deeps and to return therefrom. It was in Eva's mind to go to Mr. Hill's house, which was at the further end of Wargrove village, but a mindful thought of Mr. Hill's jokes, which were usually irritating, made her hesitate. She therefore went back to the kitchen, and spoke to Mrs. Merry, who was crooning over the fire.
"What are you doing?" she asked snappishly, for her nerves, poor girl, were worn thin by this time.
"I'm waiting for the body," said Mrs. Merry grimly.
Eva bit her lip to keep down her anger, and returned to the drawing-room, where she wandered hopelessly up and down. While straining her ears she heard footsteps and ran to the door. It proved to be a telegraph boy, dusty and breathless. Eva snatched the wire from him, although she was surprised at its late arrival. As she opened the envelope, the boy explained needlessly-
"It come at four," he said, "and I forgot to bring it, so the Head sent me on all these ten mile, miss, at this hour by way of punishment. And I ain't had no supper," added the injured youth.
But Eva did not heed him. She was reading the wire, which said that Mr. Strode had postponed his departure from town till the morrow, and would then be down by mid-day. "There's no reply," said Eva curtly, and went to the kitchen for the fifth time that evening. The messenger boy grumbled at not getting a shilling for his trouble, quite forgetting that the late arrival of the wire was due to his own carelessness. He banged the front gate angrily, and shortly rode off on his red-painted bicycle.
"My father's coming to-morrow," said Eva, showing the telegram.
Mrs. Merry read it, and gave back the pink paper. "Let them believe it as does believe," said she, "but he'll not come."
"But the wire is signed by himself, you stupid woman," said Eva.
"Well and good," said Mrs. Merry, "but dreams are dreams, whatever you may say, deary. Your pa was coming before and put it off; now he put it off again, and-"
"Then you believe he sent the wire. There, there, I know you will contradict me," said Miss Strode crossly, "I'm going to bed."
"You'll be woke up soon," cried Mrs. Merry after her; "them knocks-"
Eva heard no more. She went to her room, and, wearied out by waiting and anxiety, retired speedily to bed. Mrs. Merry remained seated before the kitchen fire, and even when twelve struck she did not move. The striking of the clock woke Eva. She sat up half asleep, but was speedily wide awake. She heard footsteps, and listened breathlessly. A sharp knock came to the front door. Then four soft knocks. With a cry she sprang from her bed, and ran to the door. Mrs. Merry met her, and kept her back.
"They've brought him home, miss," she said; "the dream's come true."
CHAPTER IV
MYSTERY
Mr. Hill's house at the far end of the village was an eccentric building. Originally it had been a labourer's cottage, and stood by itself, a stone-throw away from the crooked highway which bisected Wargrove. On arriving in the neighbourhood some twenty-five years before, Mr. Hill had bought the cottage and five acres of land around. These he enclosed with a high wall of red brick, and then set to work to turn the cottage into a mansion. As he was his own architect, the result was a strange mingling of styles.
The original cottage remained much as it was, with a thatched roof and whitewashed walls. But to the left, rose a round tower built quite in the mediæval style, to the right stretched a two-story mansion with oriel windows, a terrace and Tudor battlements. At the back of this, the building suddenly changed to a bungalow with a tropical verandah, and the round tower stood at the end of a range of buildings built in the Roman fashion with sham marble pillars, and mosaic encrusted walls. Within, the house was equally eccentric. There was a Spanish patio, turned, for the sake of the climate, into a winter garden and roofed with glass. The dining-room was Jacobean, the drawing-room was furnished in the Louis Quatorze style, Mr. Hill's library was quite an old English room with casements and a low roof. There were many bedrooms built in the severe graceful Greek fashion, a large marble swimming-bath after the ancient Roman type, and Mr. Hill possessed a Japanese room, all bamboo furniture and quaintly pictured walls, for his more frivolous moods. Finally there was the music-room with a great organ, and