CHAPTER VII
SELLING HIS HERITAGE
It was hardly to be expected that Janet should remain under the roof of Mrs. Hoffman without attracting the attention of her unscrupulous son, and at last Felix Hoffman annoyed her so persistently that his mother gave him to understand if he did not desist he would be forbidden the house. Janet hated the sight of him, and seldom answered his questions. This annoyed him, and offended his pride, of which he possessed a ridiculous quantity. One day, when Janet was out, he came across a letter she had carelessly left on her table, and without scruple picked it up and read it. The contents did not afford him much gratification, but the heading to the paper gave food for reflection. Anselm Manor, Rushshire, sounded well, and the letter was signed Warren.
"Warren what? He must have another name," thought Felix. "I should like to know what it is."
He set to work to find out, and was not long before he succeeded. Warren Courtly was well known amongst sporting men, and Felix soon discovered who and what he was.
He chuckled to himself as he thought what a commotion it would cause if Mrs. Courtly knew about Janet Todd's connection with her husband. He foresaw a profitable harvest from this source, but had no intention of putting Warren Courtly on his guard at present.
He had written many begging letters in the course of his life, and several of them had proved effective. It occurred to him it would be a neat stroke of business to write to Mrs. Courtly for assistance, and after several attempts he decided to dispatch the one already alluded to.
It reached Irene safely, with the result that Felix was enriched by five pounds. He was quite proud of this achievement, for he had doubts as to the success of his missive.
He wrote back thanking her, and repeating that he would refund the money at some future date.
This was how Irene came to have a knowledge of Felix Hoffman. His reply was sent on to Hazelwell, and she decided to show both letters to the Squire.
"I hope you will not think me very foolish," she said, as she handed him the letters; "you will gather from them what has taken place."
Redmond Maynard read them, and said —
"This man, whoever he is, must be a clever rogue, it is a form of begging-letter writing I have never seen before. I do not blame you for sending the money, although had you consulted me I should have felt more inclined to hand over the matter to the police. You must not send him any more money," said the Squire.
"Do you think he will write for more?"
"Most decidedly, especially as his first letter was such a success."
"I had thought of going to Feltham the next time I am in London, and finding out where he lives and the kind of man he is," she said.
"You must not do anything of the kind. There is no telling where he is; at any rate, you must not venture there alone," he replied.
"It is merely from a desire to gratify my curiosity that I wish to go. I am sure no harm will come of it."
The Squire shook his head, as he replied —
"The letter has cost you five pounds, let the matter drop and think no more about it."
"Feltham is not far from Kempton Park," said Irene. "I wonder if Warren knows anything about the place?"
"Probably. Ask him when he returns home," said the Squire. "By the way, Irene, I had almost forgotten it is New Year's Day. We are not a very jolly household for the occasion, but we must not commence another year with gloomy thoughts and melancholy countenances."
"I hope this year will bring Ulick home again," she said.
"So do I, with all my heart," said the Squire. "There's Eli coming up the walk, I wonder what he wants."
"Shall I tell Bob to send him in when he arrives?" she asked.
"Yes, do, Irene."
Eli Todd came into the room, and wished them a cheery Happy New Year. "We have made a good start at the stud, although I had a terribly anxious time of it," he said.
"Made a good start, what do you mean?" said the Squire. "There are no foals yet?"
"Only one," replied Eli, smiling, "and he was precious near being born before midnight. As luck would have it, he came into the world a quarter of an hour after, so that is all right."
"But there was no mare due to foal so early," remarked the Squire.
"Only old Honeysuckle," said Eli, with a smile.
"You mean to tell me the old mare has a foal? I was certain it would be the middle of the month before that event came off," said the Squire.
"I knew you were wrong, but I did not contradict you," replied Eli.
"Then if you knew I was wrong, it was your business to tell me, and you ought to have done so," said the Squire.
Eli was a privileged servant, and although always respectful to the Squire, occasionally answered him bluntly.
"It is not an easy matter to contradict you, Squire; you generally like to have your own way," said Eli.
Irene laughed, and said she must certainly side with him in his remark.
"That is rather hard upon me," replied the Squire. "I had no idea I was so obstinate."
"Oh, but you are," laughed Irene, "and once you have made up your mind you stick to it through thick and thin."
"That is about a correct summing up of the situation," said Eli.
"What sort of a youngster is it?" asked the Squire.
"Very promising, so far as I can judge at this stage; he ought to make a good one."
"Do let us go and see him," said Irene.
The Squire walked to the window and looked out. The snow still lay deep upon the ground, but it was hard and crisp, and afforded good walking.
"I think we may venture," he said. "Will you come, Irene?"
"With pleasure, I will not be more than a few minutes putting on my things." She left the room, and returned enveloped in a seal-skin jacket, trimmed with heavy sable, and a toque to match. She looked very attractive, and the Squire glanced at her admiringly. Eli Todd thought he had never seen a prettier woman, and wondered how Ulick could have been so foolish as to leave the way clear for Warren Courtly to win her.
They thoroughly enjoyed the walk in the brisk, frosty air, and when they arrived at the stud farm Eli took them to Honeysuckle's box.
He quietly opened the door, and, stepping inside, they saw a pretty sight. The mare was standing sideways to them, and as they entered the foal looked at them with big, inquiring eyes. He sidled up close to his mother, and playfully pushed her with his nose. He was a well-made colt, long on the leg, and with a beautiful head and well-shaped body.
The Squire eyed him critically for several minutes, and then said —
"He ought to make a good one, there is plenty of room for him to fill out and develop. I am glad Honeysuckle has thrown such a good one, it will probably be her last."
"I thought you would like him," said Eli.
Irene went up to him and patted him gently. The colt was not at all alarmed, and sniffed at her jacket and fur with evident relish.
"He's a dear little fellow," she said, "and I hope he will win a good race or two for you. I should like to see him win."
"You may have that pleasure next year," said the Squire, "that is if he goes on all right; so many promising foals turn out badly, one never knows what may happen."
Bersak put his head in the door, and the colt started back in alarm. It was his first introduction to another animal, and he evidently regarded Bersak as some wild savage beast of prey. Honeysuckle turned round, and looked straight at the intruder, but she and Bersak were friends and had met many times before.
Eli thought of the scene the previous night, and wished he could tell the Squire he had seen Ulick. He had given his word not to mention the visit, and therefore his lips were sealed.
"We will walk through the plantation on the way home," said the Squire, "it is a short cut, and I feel I shall be ready for luncheon when we get in."
They set off at a brisk pace, Bersak following at their heels. It was a pleasant walk, and hares and rabbits frequently ran across their path, while the pheasants strutted about proudly, their brilliant plumage affording a sharp contrast to the snow.
After luncheon the Squire had his usual nap, and Irene looked over the various papers and magazines.
A paragraph caught her eye, and she read it with feelings of wonder and amazement. It was to the effect that Mr. Warren Courtly, of Anselm Manor, had disposed of Holme Farm for the sum of ten thousand pounds, and this was instanced as another proof of the decreased value of land.
"Sold the Holme Farm, there must be some mistake!" thought Irene, and read the paragraph again.
"He never mentioned anything about it to me, and I know of no reason why he should sell it. I wonder where these rumours originate; they have no business to insert them in the paper until they ascertain whether they are correct."
She was troubled over it, although she did not believe it to be true. The Holme Farm was one of the best on the Anselm estate, and even if Warren had been compelled to sell it, she thought he might have given the Squire the first refusal. She failed to understand the meaning of it, and was still puzzling over the matter when the Squire awoke and looked at her through his half-closed eyes.
He saw something had disturbed her, and, sitting up in his chair, inquired the cause.
"There is an announcement in the paper I cannot understand," she said. "This is it."
He read the paragraph and said, "What an abominable statement to make. It must be some other farm of that name, and Warren's name has been inadvertently inserted as that of the owner."
He looked at it again, and saw it was an announcement made by the auctioneers who sold the property. This made the matter more serious, the sellers would not be likely to make such a mistake.
"Warren would never have sold it without telling me he was about to do so," said Irene.
"He has done a very foolish thing if he has sold it," said the Squire. "He cannot possibly be short of money with the income he has. Ten thousand pounds is a ridiculous sum for the Holme Farm, it ought to be worth five thousand more at least. He will explain what it all means when he returns home."
Notwithstanding he spoke confidently, the Squire had his misgivings. He had heard vague rumours from his brother magistrates, when he met them as chairman of the county bench and of the quarter sessions, that all was not well with Warren Courtly. He paid very little attention to the statements, treating them as so much idle gossip, but they came home to him forcibly now. He had heard that Warren Courtly had been going the pace on the racecourse and gambling heavily, but he thought Warren quite capable of looking after himself. They passed a somewhat quiet afternoon and evening, for the announcement disturbed them both, and Irene was anxious for the next morning to come, in the hope it might bring her some explanation from her husband.
It was quite true that Warren Courtly had sold the Holme Farm for ten thousand pounds, and the bulk of the money received from it went to pay his debts. He was in no very enviable frame of mind when he stepped into the Windsor train at Waterloo on his way to Feltham to see Janet. He was heartily sick and tired of her, and of the deception he had to practise in connection with her. Moreover, Janet was becoming troublesome, and, what was still worse, homesick. She was constantly imploring him to allow her to return to her father, promising to keep his secret and never to breathe a word about their intimacy. Warren Courtly would not hear of it. He knew of Eli Todd's great affection and devotedness to Ulick, and felt certain he would extract the truth from Janet if she lived with him again. He had wronged Irene, and deceived her, but he meant to shield her from the consequences of his folly at any cost. She must never know that he had been cowardly enough to allow Ulick to lie under the ban of a false accusation.
He left the train at Feltham, and walked to Mrs. Hoffman's.
Janet shook hands with him as an ordinary acquaintance; there was no love between them now, whatever there had been a couple of years ago. The more she saw of him and learned his nature, the more she despised him.
"You are looking well," he said, "the world is treating you better than me."
"Is it?" she answered, carelessly. "I am very unhappy, I want to go home again. I cannot rest until Mr. Ulick's name is cleared. It is a shame he should suffer for your fault."
"My fault and yours," he said, angrily. "You always lay all the blame at my door."
"And that is where it ought to be. I was a fool ever to trust you."
"I have done all I can for you, more than I can afford."
She laughed as she replied —
"That is nice talk for the owner of Anselm Manor."
"It is true nevertheless. I have sold the Holme Farm to pay my debts."
"I don't believe it."
"Read that," he said, and handed her the paper with an account of the sale.
"Ten thousand pounds!" she exclaimed. "That is a lot of money. I am rather short of cash, you must give me some."
"You had twenty pounds last month."
"And I want twenty more now."
"You cannot have it."
"Then you must take the consequences," she said.
"What shall you do?"
"Pack up my things, go down to Helton, see my father, and tell the truth," she replied.
"You dare not, no one would believe your story."
"One person would, I am certain," she answered.
"Your father?"
"Probably, but I meant your wife," said Janet.
"You dare not speak to her of such things," he said, angrily.
"And why not? She has every right to know the truth."
"If I give you the money will you hold your tongue?" he asked.
"Yes, until I require more," was her reply.
He gave her twenty pounds, thankful to be able to stave off the evil day, hoping in the meantime to find some way out of his difficulties.
CHAPTER VIII
WARREN'S RETURN
Warren Courtly returned home during the week, and Irene was at the Manor to receive him. She did not welcome him with her usual heartiness, and he expected there was something wrong.
"You have been away a long time," she said. "I expected you home last week. Your business must have been very important."
"It was," he replied, "and I have not finished it. I shall have to go to London again soon."
"I will accompany you," she said; "I have not been to London for some time."
"As you wish. I shall be glad of your society. Have you been staying with the Squire?"
"Yes, and we have managed to pass the time pleasantly. I took him the picture of Random, and he was delighted with it; he has it in his study. We were very much surprised to see an announcement in the paper that you had sold the Holme Farm, but I suppose it is incorrect?"
"I am sorry to say it is correct. I had to sell it, Irene, I was in difficulties."
"You, in difficulties!" she exclaimed. "How is that possible, you have a large income?"
"I have been gambling, and owed more than I could pay. So I thought the best way would be to sell Holme Farm and clear them all off. I shall be more cautious next time, you may be sure."
"You might have told me how matters stood," she said, reproachfully. "And if you were compelled to sell the Farm, why did you not offer it to the Squire, he would have given you a better price than that for it?"
"I had no idea he would buy it; he is always grumbling about land, and saying it is no good investing in it."
"He said Holme Farm was worth five thousand more than you accepted for it, and I believe he would have given it."
He was angry with himself when he heard this, but he knew the real reason he had not offered it to the Squire was that he was ashamed to do so. As he looked at Irene, he recognised her beauty more clearly than he had ever done before. He felt he was dealing her blow after blow, and the worst was yet to come. It made him desperate when he thought of Janet, and the trouble she could cause. Why had he been such a fool to fall into the toils of such a minx? He hated her name, and it was sacrilege to think of her in the presence of Irene. As for Irene she was depressed and uneasy at her husband's statement. If he was compelled to sell the Holme Farm, others might follow, and the estate gradually dwindle down to small proportions. It was not a bright prospect after only eighteen months of married life. She saw he was worried and troubled, and did not look himself.
"Are you feeling unwell?" she asked.
"No, why?"
"Because you do not look in your usual health; if you have any trouble, Warren, I wish you would confide in me, and I might possibly help you. It will be far better for me to hear it from you than from any outsiders, and you know what gossips people are."
He felt a strong impulse to tell her everything even to confess his fault with Janet, and how he had allowed suspicion to rest upon Ulick, but he dare not do it. He knew she would never forgive him, although she might condone his failings. If an outsider made her acquainted with the fact it would be far worse, but he must risk that.
"I have nothing to tell you," he said. "It troubled me to have to part with the farm, but I saw no other way out of the difficulty."
"I can quite understand that," she replied. "As it was necessary for you to do it, we will say no more about it; but I expect the Squire will pull you over the coals," she added, with a smile.
Next morning a thaw set in, and the pure white landscape quickly changed to a dull, leadened colour. The melting snow dripped from the roof in a monotonous splash, the trees were wet and dismal, and the ground was a mass of sticky slush and mud. The sky was dark and lowering, and the effect depressing.
They both felt the effects of the change at breakfast time. Irene was naturally of a bright disposition, and tried to cheer her husband's drooping spirits, but with ill-success.
"Honeysuckle had a colt foal half an hour after midnight on New Year's Day," she said. "That was a slice of luck, and Eli had a very anxious time until he was born."
"What an extraordinary thing," he said. "The Squire would be pleased. What kind of a colt is he?"
"A good one I should say; we saw him the same day, and he pleased both the Squire and Eli."
"I must have a look at him," he replied; then, glancing out of the window, went on: "There is nothing more miserable than a thaw; I shall be glad when all the snow is gone, and there is a chance of hunting again."
"It will be a treat to be in the saddle after such a long spell," she replied. Then, changing the subject, she said, "I had a peculiar letter when you were away. I showed it to the Squire, and he thought it was written by a clever rogue. My impression was that the man was genuinely in want of a small loan, but how he came to write to me I do not know. Here is the letter and his reply to my note."
Warren Courtly took it carelessly, but no sooner did he see the handwriting than he hastily turned to look at the signature, and when he saw "Felix Hoffman" the letter fell upon the table and he sank back into his chair, his face white and drawn.
Irene was surprised and alarmed at the effect it produced, and said —
"What is the matter, Warren? Is it the letter causes you anxiety? Do you know the man?"
He made no answer, but took the letter and read it, wondering how it came about that Felix Hoffman should have discovered who he was and have the audacity to write to his wife. Janet must have confided in him, that was the only solution he arrived at, and he vowed she should suffer for her betrayal. These brief minutes, when his wife's eyes were upon him, noting every change and movement, were the worst he had ever spent in his life.
"Do you know the man?" she asked, again.
"Yes, I know him."
"Who is he?"
"A racecourse sharper, a scoundrel, an unprincipled blackguard," said Warren, savagely.
"Then how is it you know him?" she asked.
"We meet many undesirable people on racecourses; he is one of the most undesirable."
"But you have no necessity to associate with such men."
"They are useful sometimes; even the man Hoffman has given me good information."
"If he is such a man as you describe, I should be ashamed to be seen with him. How dare he write to me?" she said, angrily.
"It was a gross piece of impertinence," replied Warren, "for which he shall pay dearly. Leave me to deal with him, Irene."
"He ought to be thrashed," she said.
"He shall be, and he will not forget it as long as he lives. You were very foolish to send the money."
"The Squire said the letter ought to have been handed over to the police."
"It was a blessing it was not," thought Warren.
It was a rapid thaw, and at the end of the week not a vestige of snow was to be seen, except in some shaded corner where the sunlight never crept in, and where the overhanging cavern kept off the dripping water.
Warren Courtly rode over to Hazelwell, and did not receive a very hearty greeting from Redmond Maynard.
They looked at Honeysuckle's foal, and Warren pronounced it one of the best she had had. Eli Todd, he fancied, treated him in a somewhat off-hand manner. Surely he did not suspect anything, he could not unless Janet had written to him.
Everything jarred upon him, his nerves were disordered, and he felt irritable and out of sorts. He dreaded an exposure, and felt it was gradually coming. He knew what the Squire's wrath would be when he found out Ulick had been unjustly suspected, as he must do sooner or later.
"Tell him all and get rid of the burden," whispered conscience. He dare not, and yet it would have been the best way out of the sea of trouble into which he was floundering.
In the Squire's study hung the painting of Random, and he pointed it out to Warren with pride, and said —
"Irene has done it splendidly; it is lifelike. I never saw a picture of a horse more natural. You ought to be proud of your wife, she does many things, and does them all well."
"I am proud of her," said Warren, in a half-hearted tone that irritated the Squire, who of late had been constantly blaming himself for being the cause of Irene throwing herself away upon Warren Courtly.
"She is the best woman I know, and her heart is in the right place. Confound it, Warren, you have no right to leave her alone as you do, it is not fair to her. Why don't you take her up to London, if you really have to go to town so often?"
"I will next time," said Warren, lamely. He seemed at a loss for words, and the Squire thought he had a shame-faced look.
"He's been up to some devilment, I'm sure of it," he thought. "By Jupiter, if he's done anything to trouble Irene's peace of mind he'll find he has me to reckon with."
"Your journey to London does not seem to have benefited you much," said the Squire.
"I hate town," grumbled Warren.
"Then why go there?"
"Because it is so deuced dull at the Manor when there is no hunting on."
"The selfish beggar," thought the Squire, as he said aloud, "And do you not think it is dull for Irene when you are away?"
"She is generally at Hazelwell, and you are excellent company, Squire."
"Am I? Much you know about it. Let me tell you if it had not been for Irene I should have had a fit of the blues that would have got the best of me a few nights back. Perhaps you can imagine what night it was?" said the Squire.
"No, I cannot; but, anyway, I am glad she was here to cheer you up. I told her to ride over and see you."
"Have you forgotten what happened over two years ago?"
He could not pretend to misunderstand, although they were getting on rather dangerous ground.
"You mean the night Ulick left home?"
"Yes, and I sat up all that night, and I shall sit up every night when it comes round, year by year, until he returns home again."
"Then you have changed your mind?" said Warren.
"I have forgiven him, but he must prove his innocence, and I am beginning to believe he will. Something tells me he will," he said, as he looked at Warren in a way that made him feel very uncomfortable, and yet he knew nothing had been found out – at present.
"Ulick was hardly the sort of man one would have expected to get into such a mess," said Warren.
"You are right; that is what I cannot understand," replied the Squire, thinking at the same time Warren Courtly was a much more likely man to do so.
"Irene told me you thought I was foolish to accept ten thousand for the Holme Farm," said Warren.
"And I still think so. Why did you sell it?"
"I had to, I owed a lot of money."
"Betting?"
"Mostly, but I am out of the mire now, and intend to keep so," he replied.
"A good resolution. Why did you not offer me the Farm? I would have given you a better price for it."
"Because, to tell you the truth, I was ashamed to."
"You ought to have come to me, Warren," said the Squire, kindly, as he placed one hand on his shoulder. "I gave you Irene, and you ought to trust me. She was confided to my care by my old friend, Carstone, and I do not want to think I have made a mistake in placing her happiness in your hands. You do not look easy in your mind, or happy. If you are in any difficulty tell me, and I will do all in my power to help you for her sake and your own."
These words struck the right chord in Warren Courtly, but he had not the courage to confess what he had done.
"I am upset over selling Holme Farm," he replied, "but there is nothing else, except the barefaced audacity of such a man as Felix Hoffman writing to Irene."
"You know the man?"
"Yes, and I told her he was a scoundrel. He shall feel my stick across his shoulders the next time we meet."
"Better to have no scenes," said the Squire. "Avoid him in the future, but give him to understand there must be no more letters written, or he will be handed over to the police."
"That will probably be the best way. I met him casually at Hurst Park, and he gave me some very good information."
"And on the strength of that," said the Squire, "I suppose he has stuck to you like a leech. I know these men, they ought to be ducked in a horsepond, they are pestilential nuisances, but unfortunately there is no way of killing them off."
Warren Courtly rode home, where another unpleasant surprise awaited him. Irene had received a second letter from Felix Hoffman, returning the five pounds and thanking her for the loan.
"There," said Irene. "I am right, and the Squire is wrong. I felt sure from the tone of his letter he would return the money, so he cannot be quite so black as you painted him."
"I am very much surprised, I assure you," said Warren, "but the return of the money does not do away with the fact that it was a gross piece of impertinence on his part to write to you, and I shall call him to account for it."
This letter, returning the money, caused Warren Courtly much uneasiness. He knew it meant that Felix Hoffman was playing some clever game, and that trouble was brewing at no distant date. It was seldom Hoffman allowed a five-pound note to leave his possession, no matter how he obtained it. When he did so, it was generally with the certainty of getting many times its value in return.