The Runaways by Nat Gould (best way to read an ebook .txt) 📖

said Irene. "Have you any idea?"

"How can I possibly know?" he said, evasively.

"No, of course not," she replied. "But I cannot understand why you will not come back to Hazelwell."

Warren Courtly joined them. He heard his wife's last remark, and remarked—

"You can have no reason for remaining away now you and the Squire are reconciled."

"I have an excellent reason," said Ulick, looking him straight in the face in a manner that made him feel very uncomfortable.

CHAPTER XIV. A DISCOVERY IMMINENT.

Warren Courtly remained in London, and his wife returned home with the Squire. Irene was accustomed to his frequent absences from the Manor, and became somewhat reconciled to being alone. The Squire, however, was exceedingly angry with him, and ventured to remonstrate, but received no satisfaction from the interview; on the contrary, it tended to widen the breach between them.

Ulick promised his father he would return to Hazelwell as soon as circumstances permitted, and the Squire stated his intention of coming at the end of the month to see the Saint run in the Coronation Cup at Epsom.

Warren Courtly had a serious quarrel with Felix Hoffman over the letter he wrote to Irene. Felix, however, was master of the situation, and told him so.

"I know who you are, and that you have a wife at Anselm Manor; I wonder how she would take it if I introduced her to Mrs. Warren?"

"You dare not, you scoundrel," said Warren. "I have never lived with Mrs. Warren, you know it."

"I know she is no more Mrs. Warren than I am, unless you have committed bigamy, which is not at all likely," he replied.

"If you say one word to my wife about Mrs. Warren and myself, you will repent it," said Warren Courtly.

"Shall I? Then you will have to make it worth my while to hold my tongue," replied Felix.

"Turning blackmailer, are you?" said Warren. "What is your price?"

"Fifty pounds will carry me over this month, and I promise not to trouble you if I have good luck with it."

"And supposing you have bad luck?"

"Then I am afraid I must trespass upon your generosity again," replied Felix.

"And how long will this sort of thing go on?"

"It all depends upon circumstances. I may not require your assistance for some time."

"And if I refuse your request?"

"Then I shall feel it my duty to enlighten Mrs. Courtly."

There was no way out of the fix, so he paid Felix Hoffman fifty pounds, thankful to be able to keep him quiet for a time, until he could think over what was best to be done.

Why did he not make a clean breast of it to Irene? His folly was committed before he married her, and she could not blame him for attending to Janet's wants. It was shameful to leave Ulick under suspicion. Then he thought, "But he is not under suspicion now. I wonder why he does not go home. It is very curious. He cannot have discovered anything about me, that is almost impossible."

Ulick was half inclined to tax Warren with being the cause of all the trouble, and would have done so in all probability had a favourable opportunity occurred. Fortunately it did not, or angry words might have passed between them, which would have led to a serious quarrel.

Felix Hoffman had bad luck, and a few days after he received the fifty pounds he lost it all, and more with it. He had no hesitation in asking for assistance, which Warren point-blank refused.

"I see what you intend doing," he said, "and I do not mean to be bled. I will face the consequences, and you can do your worst."

Felix Hoffman was taken by surprise at the unexpectedly bold front shown, and said, angrily—

"Very well, you know what will happen."

"But you do not," replied Warren.

"I have a very good idea."

"I have told my wife everything, what do you think of that?"

"I don't believe it," said Felix, quaking lest it should be true.

"You may please yourself about that," Warren answered. "I have no desire to speak to you again."

"Then out of my house Mrs. Warren, or whoever she is, goes neck and crop."

Warren laughed provokingly, as he replied—

"It is not your house, and if anyone goes it will be yourself. I shall have great pleasure in assisting your mother to get rid of you, and I am sure it would be a relief to her."

Felix Hoffman went home in a towering rage. He owed a lot of money, and knew if he did not pay up that the bookmakers would show him scant courtesy. Some of them he had not treated well in his more prosperous days, and they would only be too glad to retaliate.

Mrs. Hoffman knew her son's temper was none of the best, and she saw he was in a bad humour. He did not, however, mean to let her into his secret as to the identity of Mr. Warren, nor had he any desire that Janet should leave the house; on the contrary, now he had calmed down, he was sorry he hinted at such a thing to Mr. Courtly.

He cudgelled his brains as to which was the best way to obtain money. He repaid the loan of five pounds to Mrs. Courtly in order to inspire her with confidence in him; he would write again and ask for a loan of five-and-twenty pounds; it was not much but it would be useful as a stop-gap.

He was careful over the composition of the letter, and anxiously awaited a reply. It came, and there was no money enclosed.

Mrs. Courtly wrote to the effect that her husband had warned her against him as an unprincipled cheat. She explained that she had shown his former letters to him, and that was his comment upon them. She had no desire to hold further communication with him.

This roused Felix Hoffman, and his anger for a time mastered him. He would make Warren Courtly pay dearly for this, and give his wife a shock she would not get over for a long time.

Janet little thought, as she sat reading a novel, what was going on in the next room.

Felix seized pen and paper, and commenced writing furiously. He read the letter when finished, and found it ridiculous. He must write in a calmer, more methodical and convincing strain, or she would take no notice of it.

At the end of an hour he had composed something that suited him. He could give her some information about her husband, and his goings on when in London, that would open her eyes, but he must be well paid for it, and have a hundred pounds down. He hinted that there was a lady in the case who went under the name of Mrs. Warren. "She resides with my mother, whose address I will send you if you forward me the amount I have named. I assure you what I write is true, and you can prove it for your own satisfaction. I have seen Mr. Courtly there many times with the lady named." There was more to the same purpose. "If that does not fetch her, I'll never write another letter," he said, with satisfaction at the thought that he was firing a mine that would explode in a manner Warren Courtly little dreamed of.

When Irene received the letter she was at first inclined to tear it up, but curiosity prevailed, and she read it. Her cheeks burned with anger. How dare this scoundrel make such a charge against Warren. Whatever he might do in the way of gambling and spending money foolishly, she was sure he would not deceive her as this man suggested.

She read the letter again, and became more uneasy. It was within her power to find out whether he had told her a lie or otherwise. Was it a ruse to get a hundred pounds out of her? That could hardly be the case, because the writer gave his address and was known to Warren, who could bring him to book for slandering him. She thought over his constant absence from home, his frequent visits to London, even when no racing was going on, his increased expenditure. Might not a portion of the money go in the manner suggested? Irene had very little knowledge of such matters, yet she had sense enough to perceive that if Warren was entangled much money would be required. She became restless and excited. Something must be done, she could not exist in this state of suspense. If Warren had deceived her, she would never live with him again.

Eventually she wrote, enclosing the amount required, and requesting Mrs. Hoffman's address.

Felix was delighted at the success of his scheme, and sent the same address he had given before.

"My mother lives with me," he wrote, "and Mrs. Warren is in the house. She is nearly always at home; but if you call and she happens to be out, my mother will attend to you. Ask to see Mrs. Warren."

"Living in the same house," thought Irene, "then it must be true. Oh, how miserable I am."

She made arrangements to go to London, taking her maid with her, and requesting Mrs. Dixon to inform Mr. Maynard of her departure. "Tell him I shall stay at the Walton with Warren, and that we shall probably remain until after Epsom week."

She had no idea whether Warren was at the Walton, or otherwise, because he always wrote from his club. She thought of the scented paper on which he had once written, and her heart sank.

Mary Marley, her maid, was surprised, but delighted at the prospect of a visit to London, for it was some time since she had been there.

Irene was silent during the journey, and went to bed early after dinner. Her maid was surprised her master was not there, but she made no remark. She knew her place. Next day Irene went out alone. She drove to Waterloo and booked to Feltham. Arriving at the station, she asked for Mrs. Hoffman at the address given. The porter directed her, and looked at her admiringly as she left the station, as it was seldom he saw such a stylishly dressed lady, and wondered who she could be.

Irene's heart beat painfully fast as she walked slowly along the road. The house was not far from the station the porter told her, and she dreaded reaching it. She felt half inclined to turn back. Perhaps it was some cunning trap laid for her by this man. She had read of the mysterious disappearances of women, and the prospect was not pleasant. She did not lack courage, and as she had come so far she would not turn back.

She reached the house, opened the gate, and rang the bell. Mrs. Hoffman opened the door.

"Does Mrs. Warren live here?" asked Irene, dreading her answer.

"Yes. She is out doing a little shopping at present. Will you come in, my lady?" said Mrs. Hoffman, overwhelmed at the sight of such expensive raiment and at Irene's aristocratic features.

"Thank you, I am anxious to see her," she said, as she entered the house, feeling that her life was about to be shattered, and all her fears realised, before she left it again.

Mrs. Hoffman opened the door of the front room, and said—

"This is Mrs. Warren's sitting-room; I am sure she will not be long."

Irene thanked her and sat down. As she did