Chapter 21: The Sunshine of Life

THE discovery that Spruce was the murderer of Squire Evans, the burning of Parley Wood, and the consequent death of the criminal, were wholly unexpected events. They descended on the Cookley villagers like so many bolts from the blue, and naturally caused a very great commotion. So far as the woodland was concerned, nothing remained but a vast area of grey ashes, wherein multitudinous smouldering stumps pricked up here and there. Luckily the trees of the Grange park were untouched, as the fire had not reached across the considerable space which, like a wide roadway, divided Hench's property from the miniature forest. Also, the violent wind blowing from the south had swept the flames northward, long-side the brick wall girdling the demesne. But considerable damage had been wrought, as Parley Wood was dear to many artists, and they, as well as the villagers, lamented the blotting out of this beauty-spot. But, as some people said, perhaps it was just as well, since the murder of Madoc Evans had given the wood an evil reputation. These philosophical individuals, however, were in the minority.

Under the huge tree-trunk which had crushed him to death the body of Cuthbert Spruce was found, burnt and disfigured almost beyond recognition. But there was not the least difficulty in identifying the remains of the wretched man, and he was duly buried in Cookley churchyard. A large number of morbid sight-seers were attracted to the ceremony, and there was much talk about the extraordinary events which had led to his guilt being proved. Hench, naturally enough, was anxious that the whole miserable story should be kept from the public, but this was not possible. The Inspector who had been charged with the arrest of Spruce advised the young man---for the clearing of his own character---to allow all facts to become known. Therefore the newspapers were filled with true accounts of all that had happened in connection with the affair, from the time of his early conversation with Madame Alpenny down to the moment when he staggered out of Parley Wood to fall unconscious at Vane's feet. Owain was considerably shaken by what he had undergone, both physically and mentally, so it was natural that he should take some days to recover. He was burnt and bruised; very much horrified by the appalling death of his old schoolfellow; and greatly disturbed by the enforced publicity of the whole dreadful business. It was fortunate that Mrs. Perage was at hand to look after him, as she proved to be a very dragon to guard the broken man from the curiosity of the public. Vane brought Hench to the old lady's house, and there he remained in bed for quite a week to be nursed back to health and strength. Save the Inspector, who advised him to make the facts of the case known to the world, he saw no one but the old lady. Not even Jim Vane was permitted to interview him.

The result of this judicious treatment on the part of Mrs. Perage was obvious, for while the excitement was going on Hench remained secluded in his sick-room, and was not worried with questions. By the time he was able to get up, healed of his hurts and much calmer in mind, the worst was over. Spruce lay in the churchyard, the newspapers had said all they could say about the matter, and the nine days' wonder of the whole awful business had come to an end. It only remained for Owain to fulfil his promise to the Brackens; to reward the Jedd boys for the clever way in which they had saved him; and to take formal possession of his property. Then he could begin a new life, and all the old troubles would be forgotten. Of course it required decision and strength to deal with such matters, but, thanks to careful nursing, Owain was quite able to attend to the business. With his descent into the drawing-room, wholly cured at the end of nine days, the 'nine days' wonder came to a termination.

"Now we must sweep up the fragments," said Hench, who was rapidly recovering his strength, although he still looked somewhat pale.

"Quite so," agreed Mrs. Perage, who looked more grim and masculine than ever. "I have asked the fragments to come here to-day for the sweeping."

"What do you mean?"

"My meaning is plain enough, young man!" she replied vigorously. "I want all this disagreeable business concluded, so that it will not be necessary to re-open it again. Then, as soon as possible, you must arrange about getting the property, and go for a year's tour in Europe, or in the States, if you like. I don't care where you go, so long as you get away."

"Oh, there's always Jim Vane, at a pinch," said Mrs. Perage good-humouredly. "But I daresay I shall miss you two brats. Babies, that's what you are. As to scolding, there will be plenty of that when you return. You are the Lord of the Manor, but I have much property in Cookley also, so there will be ample for us to fight about. I want my own way and so do you. Hum!" Mrs. Perage rubbed her hands. "There are lively times ahead."

"Trouble brings people together very quickly," she said briskly. "Time is nothing and opportunity is everything. Owain has saved your life; carefully nursed him back to health, so you comprehend one another a thousand times better than if you had dawdled through a ten years' courtship. You are both decent, also, my dears; quite different to your fathers. It's the mothers' blood that tells, I expect. What do you say, Hench?"

"I hope not," said Owain, laughing. "I wish Jim to remain my very good friend."

"I always am!" said Aunt Emma. "Now, Jim, say what you have to say about this trouble, and let us bury the same for ever."

"There isn't much to say," said Vane carelessly. "The newspapers have dropped the matter, and everybody is forgetting the sensation. You won't be bothered with reporters or photographers when you come abroad, Owain. All the same, it is just as well that you are going away."

"What does the Inspector say about Bottles' share in the business?"

"He wasn't very pleased, and gave both Bottles and his brother a good talking to for having held their tongues for so long."

"I wonder why they did," murmured Mrs. Perage, rubbing her nose.

"My dear aunt, it was a game to both of them. Bottles having read detective tales was burning to be a Sexton Blake or a Sherlock Holmes. Only when he saw that miserable creature brought to book did the boy realize that his comedy had turned into real tragedy. I've brought him with me as you desired." Vane went to the door and beckoned to the lad, who entered bashfully, to look with adoring eyes on his hero. Hench called to him to come forward and shook him heartily by the hand, thanking him for his great services.

"Oh, it ain't nothing, sir," said Bottles, with a glowing face as crimson as his hair. "I'd do anything for you, as you've always been kind to me. And it's been a rattling good game, anyhow."

"A sadly serious game, Bottles, I fear."

"Yes, sir." The lad turned pale, shivered, and swallowed something with an effort, as he recalled the scene at the Bull Inn. "I didn't think it was so bad till I saw that little cove's face. It wasn't me who got him burnt, was it, sir?" he asked entreatingly.

"No! No! my boy. How he came to set the wood on fire, I don't know. Perhaps he struck a match to see his way in the darkness. But we will never know exactly what happened. You are not in any way to blame. What made you suspect him?"

"I didn't suspect him at first, sir. It was Madame I thought was the wrong 'un, as I told you. But when I saw that little cove sneaking after her down to Cookley I watched him as well as her. Then I found out he was talking a lot to mother and learned about the dress and the wig. After that, it wasn't hard to twig his game. But I never thought as he'd murder the old cove," said Bottles, shivering. "I turned sick in the wood when I saw that knife go in."

"Oh, by the way, Bottles, Mrs. Tesk told me that she dismissed you for stealing the knife."

"Yes, she did, sir. She said as I'd taken other things. But it was Amelia, I was engaged to, as stole the things, and I couldn't give her away. But I ain't going to make her my wife, sir," said Bottles seriously. "She ain't what she should be in the way of honesty."

"Did she steal the knife also?"

"No, I think Mr. Spruce stole that; took it off the table one day, and slipped it up his sleeve. He killed the old cove with it, as you know, and left it in the body. I knowed it was Mrs. Tesk's carving-knife all along."

"Does Mrs. Tesk know all this now?" asked Owain quickly.

"Yes, sir. Mother went and told her, though I didn't wish to split on Amelia, who's only a gel after all. Mrs. Tesk said as she was sorry and asked me to go back, which I have done, sir."

"Well, then, Bottles, I am going to take you away from there and send you to school. Also I intend to settle a small income on your mother so that she need not work any more at the Bijou Music-hall. Finally, I will arrange with my lawyers to invest a sum of money for you so that you may be able to start life with something in hand. What do you wish to be?"

"I think if Bottles is wise he will be a detective," suggested Vane.

Bottles turned a shining face towards the speaker. "That's just what I want to be, sir. I can do it, I'm sure."

"I think so also," remarked Mrs. Perage gruffly. "But I hope Peter doesn't want to be one also. I can't have a juvenile Vidocq in my house."

"Oh, Peter ain't got no ambitions, mum," said Bottles contemptuously. "He's just as pleased as Punch to stay on with you and rise to be a butler and a footman."

"I'll look after Peter," said Mrs. Perage, nodding briskly. "He has also had a share in this business which has cleared up the mystery, and he deserves to be rewarded. But see here," she added sharply, "why didn't you tell the police immediately about the murder?"

"Because I wanted to see what that little cove would do, mum. I guessed from his disguise that he intended to make out that Madame Alpenny had murdered the old cove. But I didn't think he'd accuse Mr. Hench there."

"Mr. Evans, Simon," corrected the girl quickly. "That is his real name."

"I think I shall always be Hench to Bottles," said Owain, laughing. "He can call me what he likes as he has done so much for me. But you would have saved a lot of trouble, Bottles, if you had told the police at once."

"So the Inspector said, sir," grinned the boy. "He gave me what-for, he did. But I wanted to see the game out, sir."

Owain saw that Bottles would persist in regarding the whole dreadful business as a game, in spite of its terrible termination, so he left the subject alone. "But you might have guessed, my detective friend, that Spruce would accuse me, as he wanted to get my money. He committed the murder to trap me."

"I thought he'd do that through Madame Alpenny when you married Miss Zara," was the boy's reply, promptly given. "As you'd never have liked your mother-in-law to be hanged. You didn't mind my giving the address I got from Peter to Madame Alpenny and the little cove, did you, sir?"

"I did when I was in the dark. But now I see that you did so deliberately."

"It was part of the game," persisted Bottles coolly. "And as the little cove had gone so far, I knew he'd go further. If I hadn't told him and Madame of your address they might have asked the police where you were."

"That suggestion doesn't do credit to your detective acumen, Bottles. Had either of the two brought the police into the matter, they would not have been able to get the expected money. Spruce was playing the blackmail game."

"I see, sir." Bottles rubbed his red head. "Well, I've got something to learn yet, I expect, as a 'tec, and I ain't above learning. But thank you for helping me, sir, and for helping mother. She's a good one, is mother, and gave me such a talking for not having spoke out before."

"Between the Inspector and your mother, I daresay you have had a bad time, Bottles," said Vane idly.

"You bet I have, sir. But it don't matter. I've enjoyed myself, I have, in pulling the strings."

"It's more than I have done," said Owain languidly. "Good-bye, Bottles. Go home and tell your mother of my intentions. Next week I'll fulfill my promise, as soon as I can see my solicitors and settle matters."

"And, Simon," said Mrs. Perage graciously, "you can go to the kitchen and have your dinner. Here's a pound. Take Peter with you to town and to see your mother."

"Thank you, mum; thank you, sir; thank everybody." And Bottles disappeared with a happy grin, which made every one smile.

"Here comes Madame Alpenny and the Brackens," announced Vane, who acted as a master of the ceremonies.

"I don't like that old woman to come under my roof," said Mrs. Perage, with a frown. "She's a plotter and a schemer. But----"

"Old scamp, I call her. You can deal with her yourselves. I'm going." And as the newcomers entered the room, she went out swiftly through the conservatory.

Zara looked pale, her husband confused, and both advanced with rather a shame-stricken air. Madame Alpenny, on the contrary, rushed forward and took Owain's hand with effusion, beaming all over her harsh swart face. Considering how she had behaved when they last met, the young man was astonished by this friendly greeting. He scarcely knew what to say; but it appeared there was no need for him to say anything. Madame Alpenny did all the talking, so it was just as well that Mrs. Perage had left the room. Had that Amazonian dame remained, there assuredly would have been trouble.

"Ah, but I am delighted to see you looking so magnificent after your illness, dear Monsieur!" cried Madame, clasping Owain's hand fondly within her own. "You terrified me greatly, as I thought you would perish. Ah, but it is good of the Heavens to preserve you to us."

The young man withdrew his hand as soon as he recovered from his astonishment, and spoke very coldly. "You have changed your mind since our last meeting!"

Madame Alpenny threw up her fat hands. "Ah, but what would you, my dear sir? We are all now friends here, I hope."

She beamed all round the room, but there were no answering smiles. Zara laid her hand on her mother's arm and drew her back. "I must ask your pardon, Mr. Hench, for all the trouble which has been brought to you," she said seriously.

"It was not your fault, Mrs. Bracken, nor that of your husband," said Owain very quickly. "I have nothing but friendship and admiration for you both, seeing the way in which you made the crooked straight between us".

"Ah, what a good heart!" murmured the Hungarian lady, with her handkerchief to her eyes. "A heart of gold!"

"Shut up!" growled Bracken to his mother-in-law, and twitched the old head mantle which she still wore over the famous orange-spotted dress.

"I will not shut up, you rude man!" cried Madame Alpenny volubly. "Ah, to think of what I have suffered at the hands of Mistare Spruce, now happily deceased. He would have had me hanged!"

"Did he accuse you of committing the murder?" asked Vane sharply.

"But no. He was all sweetness and smiles. Yet, if Monsieur Hench had married Zara, then this Mistare Spruce would have accused me. He laid his plans to make me guilty. It was he, I find, who wrote the letter asking me to go to Hampstead. He wished me to be unable to prove where I was. If he had lived I should have put him in gaol," ended Madame, with a frown.

"You nearly put Mr. Evans in gaol!"

"Mistare Evans. Ah, yes---the real name of Monsieur Hench. No, I would not have put him in gaol, Mademoiselle. My talk was what you call---eh, yes---bluff. I might have been his beloved mother had I accepted his father's hand. Never would I have harmed him."

"Oh, I think you would when you had me in your power, Madame," said Owain dryly. "Remember what you talked about in the churchyard."

"Bluff---all bluff, Monsieur."

"It would have been better had you acted fairly with me and told the truth at our first conversation. Then I should have known that I was Madoc Evans' heir and all this trouble would have been avoided. You also would have been the richer for such honesty, Madame."

"Ah, but you will not turn from me now," said Madame in a wheedling tone. "See, Monsieur Hench, it is through me you have money. I am poor; I am deserving. So give me----"

"Mr. Hench will give you nothing, mother," said Zara in a cold tone of displeasure. "I came down here to say good-bye to him and to take you out of his life. Mr. Hench,"---she faced round to Owain,---"my husband and I are going to America, where I have obtained a good engagement. My mother goes back to Hungary, and I will send her money to support her. Therefore it will not be necessary for you to give me that thousand pounds."

"I do not wish my wife to take it," said Bracken, advancing to hold out his hand. "Good-bye, Mr. Evans, we have been here long enough. We shall always remember your kindness with gratitude."

Owain shook the extended hand. "But I wish you would take the money, Bracken."

"Ah, but do!" cried Madame Alpenny, feverishly greedy. "I can double it at cards. I am so lucky, I want to----"

"Come away, mother," interrupted Zara, dragging her towards the door. "Mr. Hench will not give you a single penny!"

"Ingrate!" shouted Madame, turning at the door, out of which she was going, held firmly by Zara and Bracken. "After all I have done. Ach! the wickedness of the evil one. I gave him thousands, and he---he, the beast---the----" Here she was dragged into the hall by her scandalized daughter, and those in the drawing-room heard her voice loudly lamenting all the way down the avenue. In this manner was the Hungarian lady rewarded for her scheming. She did not benefit in the least.

"Poor Spruce!" cried Vane, turning from the window where he was watching the protesting Madame Alpenny being dragged down the avenue. "Why say good of a man who did nothing but evil?"

"Don't be hard on him, Jim. After all, he has paid the penalty of his crime by suffering a terrible death."

"You're a good chap, Owain, so I won't say another word. But never mention his name to me again if you I can help."

"And me also, I hope," said Mrs. Perage, entering unexpectedly from the conservatory. "Hum! A touching tableau. The sweetheart, the angel of the sweetheart, and the true-hearted friend. Fudge!"

"You don't mean that word!" cried the girl.

"Perhaps I don't." Mrs. Perage rubbed her nose. "For to tell you the truth, I don't know what the word means. I got it out of 'The Vicar of Wakefield,' and it seemed useful. I should like to have used it to that old woman who is screaming viciously all the way down the avenue. Really, young man, you have some very queer friends."

"Well, I lived in Queer Street for a long time, you know!" said Owain, smiling.

"Lucky Owain!" mocked Vane. "No more hunger and thirst, hard beds and unpaid bills. You will henceforth lie in the lap of luxury."

"Hum!" said Mrs. Perage gruffly. "There is a good luncheon: a much better one than you ever tasted in Queer Street, I'll be bound. There's the gong."

THE END