The Yellow Holly

For a moment or so she tried to compose herself. Then she raised her head and looked her visitor squarely in the eyes. "I am going to tell the truth," said Miss Bull, bravely, "therefore I have no need to shun your gaze. Mr. Brendon, I loved your father."

"So Mrs. Ward said."

"And Violet loved him also."

"He must have been a singularly attractive man," remarked Brendon, wondering at this revelation. "My mother eloped with him; her maid was in love with him, and now you and Mrs. Ward-"

"Oh, Violet really did not love him. It was simply a desire to take him from me that made her behave as she did. Violet never loved any one in her life, save the person she sees in the mirror every day. A selfish woman, Mr. Brendon, and a wicked one."

This was no news to George, so he strove to coax her to tell him that which he wished to know. "I don't quite understand, but if you will relate the story-"

"I shall do so at once. You may as well know all, and know also what a bad woman I have for a sister. If she was dying," cried Miss Bull, vehemently, "I wouldn't raise a finger to save her life."

"We should forgive our enemies," hinted George.

"I can't forgive her. I never will forgive her. She ruined my life, George Brendon, she ruined my life."

Brendon said nothing, and in a few moments Miss Bull composed herself sufficiently to tell what she knew. "My father was General Howard," she said quietly, "and Violet was my only sister. We never got on well together. Violet was jealous of admiration, and as I was said to be prettier than she was she hated me intensely. Whenever any one liked me Violet would do her best to take him away from me."

"I can quite believe that," said George, recalling Mrs. Ward's arts.

"She did not always succeed, however," continued Miss Bull, with a flush. "I had my admirers also, and some I could keep. But when Violet could manage it, she always took them away."

"You hinted that she took my father away," said Brendon.

"She did-at least she tried to. But if he had not been murdered I should have been Mrs. Vane in spite of Violet's arts."

"Well, tell me how you came to San Remo and met my father."

"Oh, I knew him before that. We were six months at Como and saw your father frequently then. He and the General used to talk politics. Mr. Vane was always bringing us books and magazines, and we used to climb Mount Bisbino. What a delightful summer that was! I remember you then," she added, looking at George with interest. "You were scarcely two years old-a dear, good, fair little fellow. I met you and the nurse sometimes, and often carried you.

"Was the nurse's name Eliza Stokes?"

"No. It was-let me see, some Scotch name-Jane Fraser, I think."

"Ah! Then Eliza Stokes was not at Como?"

"I never saw her. Mr. Vane told me that you had had another nurse, but that he had to dismiss her at Milan for impertinence."

George saw that Miss Bull was not keeping strictly to the truth, and corrected her at once, "You knew Eliza Stokes at San Remo?"

"So I did, I quite forgot." Miss Bull put her hand to her head with a puzzled air. "But since my illness I have forgotten so much. It is all a blank to me. Tell me, Mr. Brendon, have you ever felt as though you were a ghost?"

"No," replied George, keeping his countenance with difficulty. "I don't think I ever experienced that feeling."

Miss Bull looked vaguely at the window. "It is a strange feeling," after which remark she lapsed into silence, still staring.

Brendon remembered that she had been in an asylum, and thought that her mind was still weak. It might be that after all she had not told an untruth, but had quite forgotten Eliza Stokes. George was confirmed in his supposition by her next remark.

"Eliza Stokes. I remember. Mrs. Jersey."

"You knew she was Mrs. Jersey?"

"Yes. That was why I came to this house."

"Did you like her then?"

Miss Bull's eyes flashed. "She was another Violet. I hated her, oh, how I hated her! I found her through my sister mentioning that Lord Derrington had given her this house, so I came here to board."

"But your sister knows nothing about you. She says you ran away and that it was supposed you were dead."

Miss Bull laughed bitterly. "My sister knows perfectly well that I live here, but it suits her to disown the relationship. It is my wish also, and for that reason I changed my name. No one would recognize pretty Jenny Howard in poor Miss Bull." She paused for a moment and then continued: "Yes. I knew that Eliza Stokes had become Mrs. Jersey, and that is why I came here."

"But if you hated her-"

"I did-I did, but she was the only person who could talk about Mr. Vane. She loved him also, but not as I did, and we have talked for hours in this very room. We quarreled, certainly, but at times she was very nice. I miss our talks greatly."

It really seemed as though Miss Bull was weak in the head. She admitted to hating Mrs. Jersey, and yet she came to stop with her. It might be that Mrs. Jersey looked after her as a kind of keeper and that she acted the tyrant. At that moment, as though answering his thought, Miss Bull made a sudden observation. "Mrs. Jersey knew that I had been in an asylum. She would have sent me back if she could, the vile woman! But I was never afraid of her, never. And she always talked to me of Mr. Vane," concluded Miss Bull in a softer tone.

"Did she know who killed him?"

Miss Bull shook her head. "No. She never knew. No one ever knew. I sometimes thought that Violet-but she declared that he left her at the door of the ballroom."

"Miss Bull," said George, growing impatient of this disconnected recital, "will you go on with your story?"

"Story-yes, it is a story-a sad romance." She passed her hand again over her forehead as though wearied, and resumed with an effort. "Mr. Vane left Como and came to Milan; afterward he went on to San Remo. My father, who liked his society, joined him there. We stopped at the Hotel d'Angleterre. Eliza Stokes was a housemaid there, and it was while attending to our bedroom that she told me she had been your nurse. She was a large, stout girl with red cheeks. As Mrs. Jersey she was vastly improved, but as a girl-" Miss Bull shuddered in a prim way and continued: "Yet, she had her admirers. A waiter, called George Rates, wished to marry her. She had accepted him, but while within sight of Mr. Vane she could not love him."

"How do you mean?"

"Well, Eliza used to spy on Mr. Vane and follow him in his walks. She was quite insane about him. I told Mr. Vane, and he kept away from the hotel. And George Rates was jealous of Eliza's love for Mr. Vane. But he never loved her, nor Violet-he loved no one but me."

"And he told you so at the masked ball?"

"Yes. There was to be a masked ball, and both Violet and I were anxious to go. We made a friend of Eliza and she got us two blue dominoes. That we might recognize one another we each wore a sprig of yellow holly. My father was supposed to know nothing about the matter, but we told a young Oxford cousin of ours. He met us at the ball, and afterward took Violet away. I found Mr. Vane, and we danced together. He did not know me at first, but afterward, when we went into a quiet room, I unmasked. He was vexed at first that I and Violet should come to the ball unattended, as he said my father would be so angry, which was quite true. Then he told me that he loved me, and asked me to become his wife. I accepted, and he kissed me." Miss Bull paused, moved by an emotion too deep for words. "I was fond of you as a baby, George, and he-your father, knew I would be a good mother to you."

"Did he speak of his first wife-of my mother?"

"Yes. He told me how dearly he had loved her."

"Did he say where the marriage was celebrated?"

"No. I never thought to ask him. I always thought there was a marriage-why should I not? – until I later heard that Lord Derrington denied that such had taken place. But that was after I came out of the asylum," added Miss Bull with a troubled air, "so it might be my fancy."

"No. It is true. Lord Derrington did deny the marriage; but he now recognizes that it took place. We wish to find where."

"I cannot help you, Mr. Brendon. Mr. Vane never mentioned it to me. He told me that he loved me. Then he went away to get me an ice, and said he would take me home and return for Violet. I waited, but as he did not appear I went to look for him. He was gone-"

"With your sister?"

"Yes," said Miss Bull, clenching her fists. "Violet overheard a part of our conversation. She had just come down from the box of the Marchesa Beltrami-"

"That was where she unmasked and Mr. Ireland recognized her."

"She must have seen me with Mr. Vane," continued Miss Bull, taking no notice of this interruption, "so she stole behind us and heard what we were to one another. Then she slipped on her mask and followed Mr. Vane. She said she did not want an ice, but that she desired to go home at once. Mr. Vane wanted to wait for her-"

"For Violet?"

"Yes. He thought that I had run after him, and as Violet wore a blue domino with the sprig of holly he fancied she was me."

"I understand. So he took her home."

"She said he left her at the door, and then came back to look for-for Violet," said Miss Bull, contemptuously; "she disguised her voice and he quite thought she was myself. But from what Mr. Ireland said Mr. Vane saw Violet home to the gates of the hotel. I waited for a time, and as your father did not come back I ran home alone. Violet was in our bedroom and said that Mr. Vane had left her at the door of the ballroom and had gone back for me. Then the next morning we heard of the murder. I never knew, until you told me, how Violet had managed to get Mr. Vane away from me."

"She tricked you," said George, sympathizingly.

"She tricked every one. When I heard of your father's death I fell very ill. The world became a blank to me. When I came to myself I was in an asylum. Then I grew better and was let out. My father died, and an annuity was allowed to me. I heard about Mrs. Jersey taking this house, and wishing for some one to talk to about your father I came here, and here I have been ever since. A lonely woman, Mr. Brendon, but I find Margery a great comfort."

"Then you do not know who killed my father?"

"No." Miss Bull shook her head. "He was struck down on the parade when returning to the ballroom. It must have been after he saw my sister home."

"Do you think Mrs. Ward knows the truth?"

"She might. Perhaps some one followed, and Violet might have been mistaken for some person. I know there was a married woman in San Remo deeply in love with Mr. Vane-"

"What an attractive man he must have been!"

"Oh, he was the handsomest man in the world," cried Miss Bull, with genuine enthusiasm, "and so kind. No wonder Eliza Stokes loved him. But he loved no one but me-no one but me."

"What did Eliza Stokes say when she heard of his death?"

"Oh, she almost went out of her mind! I did altogether," said poor Miss Bull, with a wan smile; "and as they found her a nuisance in the hotel she went away. George Rates went also."

"Did she marry him?"

"No. I asked her when I met her here as Mrs. Jersey. She said that she returned to England and that Rates had been run over and killed in the street. She then went to America and married Mr. Jersey. He died and left her some money. Then she set up this house."

"So she said nothing of the annuity from Lord Derrington?"

"No. It wasn't to her interest to do so. She could hold her tongue when she liked. We very often quarreled, but on the whole we were as good friends as two women well could be who had loved the same man."

George rose to go. "Thank you for telling me so much, Miss Bull," he said. "What was the name of the woman who loved my father?"

"Oh, she was a common woman who kept a shop. Velez was the name."

"Velez," cried George; and added to himself: "So that is how Lola knows."

CHAPTER XIX

THE INQUIRY AGENT

As George stepped out of the front door he came face to face with Bawdsey, who was mounting the steps. The man seemed excited, and carried a carelessly folded newspaper which he had apparently been reading. He did not seemed pleased to meet Brendon, and looked at him in a suspicious manner.

"I didn't expect to see you here!" he said, with a certain degree of roughness.

"I did not know that this house was interdicted to me," replied Brendon, sharply. He liked neither the tone nor the peremptory manner of Bawdsey, and, moreover, was not prepossessed in his favor by the report which Lord Derrington had made of the man's duplicity. "I am glad to meet you, however," continued George, "as I wish to have a few words."

"I am too busy to give you any time," retorted Bawdsey, and tried to enter the house.

"Nevertheless, you will give me a quarter of an hour," said George, blocking the doorway with his stalwart form. "What I have to say cannot be left until a more convenient period."

"I tell you I am busy, Mr. Brendon."

"And I tell you that I intend to have this interview," rejoined Brewton, imperiously. "You talk a great deal about gratitude, Bawdsey, yet you are unwilling to put yourself out for me in the least degree."

Bawdsey became penitent at once. "It is true, Mr. Brendon. But I am very worried." He cast a glance at the newspaper in his hand. "However, you have first call upon my time, so we will go to my room."

"That's as it should be."

No more words passed. Bawdsey mounted the stairs and led George into the well-remembered room. Brendon took a chair, and Bawdsey, with an anxious look, threw himself into another. The man's face was flushed, his red hair was in disorder, and his eyes were bright. As a rule he was calm and self-controlled, so George conjectured that something particularly important must have occurred to upset him. However, Bawdsey's troubles were none of his business, and he began talking at once of his reason for seeking the interview. "I had a conversation with Lord Derrington the other evening," he said deliberately, "and we talked of you."

"Then you heard no good of me," replied Bawdsey, with a sneer. "Lord Derrington does not like me."

"That matters little. No liking can exist between a man in Lord Derrington's position and his paid servant."

"Oh, you call me that, do you, sir?"

"What else are you? Lord Derrington engaged you as his agent to watch me, and that you have done."

"Not lately. I have given you a free hand."

"In any case I have a free hand," said George, loftily. "You were grateful enough for my service in saving your life to release me from your espionage, but had you not done so I should have taken means to put a stop to your dogging my footsteps."

"You would not have known had I not told you, Mr. Brendon."

"Oh, yes, I should. In any case, I should have seen my grandfather, and he would have told me."

"No, sir. He is your enemy."

"That is where you are wrong, Bawdsey. He is my friend."

The detective looked astonished. "Do you mean to say that Lord Derrington has climbed down?" he demanded incredulously.

"It is strange, is it not," said George, in a bantering tone, "but, as a matter of fact, after a long conversation, Lord Derrington and myself came to understand one another. He intends to recognize me as his heir."

"Has he then learnt where the marriage took place?" asked Bawdsey, starting from his seat, and again glancing anxiously at the newspaper which lay on a small table at his elbow.

"No. We have yet to find that out. But he is quite satisfied from the hints of the late Mrs. Jersey that a marriage did take place, and he wishes to make amends to me for his unjust conduct as regards my mother's memory and myself."

"Whew! What means did you take to force him to recognize you?"

"I used no force at all," responded Brendon, very dryly.

"Lord Derrington would not climb down unless he were made to."

"As a matter of fact he did. The olive branch was held out by him. All this is none of your business, Mr. Bawdsey, and I only tell it to you to clear the ground for what I am about to say."

"It's something disagreeable, I bet," said Bawdsey, scanning the set face of his visitor.

"Your penetration does you credit, sir. It is disagreeable."

Bawdsey settled himself comfortably in his chair. "Then the sooner we grasp the nettle the sooner will the pain be over," he said, with quite an Eastern wealth of parable. "But first, Mr. Brendon, I should like to know your exact position."

"Oh, that is easily explained, and there is no reason why you should not know what all London will know soon. Lord Derrington will join with me in searching for the register of marriage, and meanwhile will recognize me as his grandson and the heir to his estates."

"Not a very large income for a future peer," murmured Bawdsey.

George took no notice of this. "In a fortnight I leave my Kensington rooms and take up my residence with Lord Derrington in St. Giles Square. Then I shall assume my real name of George Vane."

"And you will marry Miss Ward, I suppose."

"That is entirely my business," said George, placidly. "You will gain nothing by insolence, Bawdsey."

The man rose with a wounded air. "Upon my word, Mr. Vane," he said, giving George his correct name to show that he recognized his new position, "I have not the slightest intention of being insolent. I am glad for your sake that things are as they are, and pleased for my own, since Lola may now give up thoughts of you and turn to me."

"That's all very well, Bawdsey," said Brendon quietly. "You profess a great friendship for me, but how can I trust you?"

"I have never deceived you yet."

"I have not given you the chance of doing so; but if the opportunity offered, and it was convenient to you, I am quite sure you would sell me-as the saying goes-to the highest bidder."

"Why should you doubt me?" asked Bawdsey, still wounded.

"I can only judge the future by the past, and since you are quite ready to play Lord Derrington false-"

"Who says that?" cried the man, sitting down, but looking defiant.

"I say so. Lord Derrington has told me all."

"All what?" demanded Bawdsey, willfully ignorant.

"All that took place on the night when you came to this house to impersonate him."

Bawdsey laughed, and his face cleared. "If that is your disagreeable business, sir, I can easily put that to rights."

"Can you explain why you drugged him, why you threatened him?"

"I did not threaten him."

"Lord Derrington informed me that you threatened to get him into trouble. That was why he consulted me, and that is why I have come to tell you that if you fight Lord Derrington you will fight me also. Lord Derrington is old, but I am young, and I am quite equal to dealing with you."

"I never denied that," said Bawdsey, calmly. "I quite recognize that you are a strong man, Mr. Vane, although it is not to my interest to admit as much."

"That's your business," rejoined George, coolly. "I play with all my cards on the table. What those are which you have concealed I do not know, but I am quite prepared to play the game. And at the present moment you need not call me by my father's name. I have not yet assumed my position. When I do, George Vane will have nothing to do with you."

"But George Brendon has," said Bawdsey, with a flash of his eyes. "Don't press too hard, Mr. Brendon. I am willing to do you a service, and you are misjudging me."

"I am sorry you should think so. Let us cease this bickering. I am willing to hear what you have to say."

"If you are satisfied with my explanation, will you endeavor to get Lola to marry me?"

"That has nothing to do with me."

"But you have influence with her."

"It shall not be used to make her miserable. I know nothing about you save what my grandfather told me, and his report does not bias me in your favor. For all I know you might make poor Lola the worst husband in the world."

Bawdsey shrugged his shoulders. "Lola is well able to look after herself," he said. "I think I mentioned that before. But if you are satisfied with what I am about to tell you, will you help me?"

"I'll do my best," said George, impatiently. "Lola is sure to lose this engagement sooner or later through her vile temper. I do not want to see her on the streets again, and she may as well be supported by you in a respectable manner as by any one else. Besides, as you truly say, she can take care of her own skin. But I shall not advise her to marry you unless you prove to me that you did not intend to blackmail Lord Derrington."

"Nothing was further from my thoughts," said Bawdsey, earnestly; "it was to my interest that your grandfather should hold his tongue about my having been to this house-"

"He would not have known had you not told him voluntarily."

"Oh, yes, he would have discovered in some way. I thought it best to be on the right side by confessing voluntarily what I had done. I said I could get him into trouble-and I admit that I did threaten him so far-simply to make him hold his tongue."

"You were afraid lest you should be accused of the crime?"

Bawdsey looked at George in surprise. "That possibility never crossed my mind," he replied calmly. "I certainly did not kill the woman. Do you think I did, Mr. Brendon?"

George shrugged his shoulders. "Going by circumstantial evidence-"

"Oh!" Bawdsey flipped away that objection with a snap of his fingers, "that's all right; I will explain. No, Mr. Brendon; why I wished Lord Derrington to be silent was that I might carry out my plans so as to learn who killed Mrs. Jersey."

"Then you are looking after the case?"

"On behalf of Lord Derrington. He has an idea that the assassin became possessed of a confession which Mrs. Jersey left behind her-"

"How do you know she left it?"

"Because I knew Mrs. Jersey very well, and, as I told you long since, I was once a boarder here. One day she let slip that she had some one in her power, and would leave the evidence of that power behind her so that her niece might benefit. I told this to Lord Derrington. He insisted that I should try and discover the assassin so as to get that confession, which compromises him, back again. To spur me on he has promised me a reward of a thousand pounds should I obtain the confession and the conviction of the assassin. As I want money to marry Lola, I am doing my best. I came to live here for that purpose. Lord Derrington talking of my visit to the house on the night of the crime would have jeopardized my plans therefore I was obliged-as you say-to threaten him so as to make him keep silent. So far, do you blame me, Mr. Brendon?"

"No," replied George, after some thought, "the end justifies the means. But you might have adopted less rascally means."

"I have not adopted any. I have not asked Lord Derrington for money, so I am not a blackmailer; nor do I intend to claim from him anything but what is justly mine."

"And what is justly yours, if you please?"

"The reward of one thousand pounds for the discovery of the assassin."

"Oh! Have you learned who killed her?"

"Not yet, but I may learn. At present I confess I am in fault."

George pondered a little. So far Bawdsey spoke frankly enough; but he could not help mistrusting him. However, since the man was in the telling vein, he thought it best to betray no doubts lest Bawdsey should turn rusty. "Well, the discovery is in your own hands," he said, "and I sincerely trust you will gain that thousand pounds. I am as unwilling as my grandfather that Mrs. Jersey's connection with this unfortunate business should become public. I am perfectly convinced that the person who took that confession stabbed the unfortunate woman."

"Do you think so?" asked Bawdsey, stealing a glance at the newspaper.

George nodded. "The confession was written. I learned that much from Margery. Mrs. Jersey told her it was a story. Well, as the confession was not found among Mrs. Jersey's papers when she died, it must have been taken by someone. But I can't think what interest such a thing can have had for any one unless-"

"Unless what, Mr. Brendon?"

"Unless it contained the name of the person who assassinated my father."

"How could Mrs. Jersey know that?"

"She was at San Remo when my father was killed; she loved him and she used to follow him. How I learned these things, Bawdsey, does not matter. But it is just possible that Mrs. Jersey-or Eliza Stokes as she was then-might have some knowledge of who committed the crime. If that was set down in her confession (as is highly probable), I can quite understand that the original assassin killed her to gain a dangerous document such as it undoubtedly was."