The Hog's Back Mystery (2 page)

“I expect you'll find Mrs. Earle in the house,” she said coldly, opening her book in a marked way.

But the young man showed no signs of taking the hint.

“Oh, come now, Miss Stone,” he said, looking round as if for a seat; “don't be mad with me for a mistake, specially when I've apologised. Couldn't have known it was you, you know.”

“I'm not in the least annoyed. Kindly allow me to get on with my book.”

“That means you are annoyed,” he grumbled. “It wasn't as if—” He broke off and his face and tones grew suddenly eager as he added, “Here's Julia!”

Ursula felt a little shocked as she looked at him. There was no mistaking the expression in his eyes. They had the adoring, worshipping look of a dog which fawns on its master. Whoever or whatever Reggie Slade might be, one thing about him was certain: he was utterly, overwhelmingly in love with Julia Earle.

Julia took no notice of him at first. She spoke cheerily to Ursula, asking her if she was cold and saying that if so there were rugs in the hall. Then she glanced at her other visitor frowningly.

“What on earth do
you
want?” she asked unpleasantly. “If it's my husband, he's gone out.”

The rabbit-faced young man looked so crestfallen that soft-hearted Ursula was sorry for him in spite of herself.

“It was only,” he stammered, “that I've—er—got the Bentley back. Just been into Farnham for her. She's—er—going better than ever. I wondered if perhaps—”

“Oh, you were going to take James to play golf?” Julia mocked. “Well, he's gone already.”

“Then there was that book,” the young fellow pleaded desperately.

“Oh yes, the financial book for Colonel Dagger. Yes, I'll get it for you if you come in. Sure you're all right, Ursula?”

“In heaven,” Ursula declared dreamily, and the others disappeared.

Ursula felt more than a little distressed at this development, though not wholly surprised. She was not taken in by Julia's manner. That Julia had encouraged and was encouraging the young man she hadn't the least doubt. Probably, thought Ursula, not at all cynically, but with the humorous toleration with which she had trained herself to look on life, Reggie Slade was bestowing that selfsame kiss at the present moment. Probably also he was receiving value for it. Julia had always been like that, ever since Ursula knew her. She couldn't live without male admiration. Admittedly wherever she went she received it. And yet, until James Earle appeared, no one, so far as Ursula knew, had wished to marry her. Men were ready enough for a flirtation, but when things began to grow serious a bar to matrimony invariably appeared. Sometimes it was an existing wife, but usually that they suddenly found they had no money. For all of them knew that a poor man's love was no good to Julia.

Ursula had indeed been surprised to hear of her friend's marriage. She wondered, as she had wondered before, if it was Earle's money which had proved the attraction. Earle was by no means rich, but he was comfortably off. Or was it that Julia thought she could so dominate a man of Earle's temperament that she would be left free for any deviations from the narrow path to which she felt a drawing?

Suddenly Ursula felt ashamed of herself. This was no way to be thinking of her hostess, of her friend indeed, for during those years at school, and since, Julia had proved herself a real friend. Besides, though Julia had these little weaknesses, she was in other ways a real good sort. She was attractive socially, a pleasant companion, and good-natured—at least, so long as her good nature did not inconvenience herself.

All the same Ursula could not help feeling extremely sorry for James Earle. At his age and after his life of uncongenial work, he must have wanted to settle down and have a home. It looked as if he was scarcely getting all he had bargained for.

With a little sigh and a mental note to mind her own business instead of her neighbours', Ursula resumed her book. But she had not read many pages before she was again interrupted. This time it was Marjorie.

“I saw you out here,” Marjorie announced, “and I felt I must come out and enjoy the day with you. There's something mild and soothing about this English sun that you don't get abroad. At home, or what I call home for this time of year, the light's harder; there's more glare.”

Marjorie had brought her writing-pad, but she did not seem in any hurry to resume work. The two women dropped into a desultory conversation. It was many years since they had met and there were multitudinous confidences to be exchanged.

The talk was at first about their various experiences during that long period of separation, then at last it turned to the present.

“You know, Ursula,” Marjorie said, staring before her into the distance and speaking more confidentially, “I'm not very happy about Julia and James. I'm afraid things are not going as well as one would have liked.”

“In what way, Marjorie?”

Marjorie moved uneasily. “I don't exactly know,” she answered. “There seems to be a strain between them that shouldn't be there. You haven't noticed anything?”

“I think Julia's a little bit too high-handed with Dr. Earle,” Ursula declared. “You remember last night at dinner. He wanted to go up to Town to some meeting, but no, he couldn't do so. She wanted him to go with us to East Grinstead so that he could drive to that nursery for the shrubs while we were seeing the Leathems. It seemed a pity to me. There was no hurry about the shrubs, and why couldn't he have gone to his meeting if he had wanted to?”

“It isn't that; James didn't mind about that. As a matter of fact I happen to know he wasn't really particular whether he went to the meeting or not. Besides,”—she paused and glanced sideways at Ursula—“James is not so meek and mild as you think. He can be quite nasty to her if he wants to. I've heard him: quite nasty. I was surprised.”

Ursula smiled. “You don't say so? I shouldn't have believed it.”

“Well, it's quite true. But she deserved it.” She paused again, then drew closer and sank her voice confidentially. “It's Julia's fault. I daren't say anything: she wouldn't take it from me. But you're different. She's always had an immense opinion of you and she'd listen to what you said. It's just what you'd expect from Julia, it's what she's always done. She—well, she has men hanging about. That's what annoys James so much.”

“Dear Marjorie, what could I say? It's not my business. I suppose you mean Reggie Slade?”

Marjorie stared. “Goodness, Ursula! You almost frighten me. How could you possibly have known that?”

“I've become a detective in my old age,” Ursula smiled. “I've met the gentleman. He came up and introduced himself. He thought I was Julia. Then Julia came out and I could see from his face.”

“Did she encourage him?”

Ursula laughed outright. “Encourage is not exactly the word I should have used,” and she repeated Julia's greeting.

Marjorie grunted. “She shouldn't do it,” she protested. “James is the mildest of men, but even a worm will turn. I sometimes imagine that only for his patients he'd go away.”

“I thought he'd given up his practice?”

“So he has really, but some old patients insist on having him still. Besides, Dr. Campion—that's the partner, you know—calls him in occasionally in consultation. Just after I came old Mr. Frazer died, and Dr. Campion had called him in there two or three times. I heard them talking about it. You know who I mean? Old Mr. Frazer of Frazer's, the theatrical booking people?”

“That was the owner of that fine place near Compton?”

“Yes, a lovely place and a lovely house. They say he left pots of money; most of it to his wife, but a big chunk to his nephew, Mr. Gates, who lives there. I don't care for them much.”

“Oh, then you know them?”

“Slightly. They were over here to see James the other day and I met them. She's a rather polite icicle and he's a rough diamond, with the emphasis on the adjective. Julia said he's been a labourer in Australia, and he just sounds like it.”

“Seen life?”

“Perhaps, in its less civilised manifestations. People are talking about them already, staying on alone there in that big house. However, that's their own business. We were talking of James and Julia. I wish, Ursula, you'd give Julia a hint. I believe she'd take it from you.”

Ursula didn't think she would be given an opportunity, but agreed to do what she could, and the subject dropped.

“Funny that Dr. Campion should have come as assistant to James,” Ursula said presently. “You know they used to live at Bath; Howard—that's Dr. Campion—and Alice and Flo, his sisters. I knew them well, or at least the girls.”

Marjorie nodded. “So Julia told me. I heard her speaking of Miss Campion. She was talking of asking her over. She said you would be sure to want to see her.”

“That's good of Julia; I should like to.”

“I like Miss Campion.”

“Yes, Alice is a good sort. Tell me, Marjorie—” and the talk reverted once again to old acquaintances.

The day passed uneventfully. Earle did not appear at lunch, but he was home for dinner. Things seemed to go quite smoothly, and afterwards there was another game of rather mediocre bridge. They retired early, and next morning Ursula felt that she had quite settled down and that she was going to enjoy her fortnight with her old friends.

She little knew what the next few days would bring forth.

Chapter II

The Red Cottage

It happened that Alice Campion was unable to come to the Earles on the afternoon on which Julia had asked her, and a couple of days later Ursula took advantage of a visit of Julia and Marjorie to Dorking to go over and lunch with her old friend. The Red Cottage was situated in the little village of Binscombe, some two miles from Godalming and five from St. Kilda. There was no direct railway, but the bus which passed St. Kilda ran within half a mile of the Red Cottage. In little more than half an hour after starting Ursula rang at the door.

Alice Campion was unfeignedly glad to see her visitor. “I was so sorry I couldn't go over to St. Kilda,” she explained. “Some people were coming here whom I couldn't very well put off. But I'm all the better pleased now, for I have you to myself.”

Miss Campion was small, stout, round-faced and jolly; good-tempered, a great talker and a staunch friend. When Ursula could get in a word she asked after Dr. Campion.

“Howard will be sorry to miss you,” his sister answered. “He's out on his rounds and always lunches at Godalming. But all the better for me again. Now tell me what you have been doing with yourself since I saw you. Let's see, how long ago is that? Why, it must be four years since you were here. The Earles went to St. Kilda six years ago—that's two years before we came out here—and you paid your visit to them the year we arrived.”

Dr. Campion had, in fact, followed Dr. Earle's example in taking a partner to live over the surgery in Godalming, while he moved out into the country at Binscombe.

Alice rattled on, not waiting for a reply. Ursula, who was really attached to her, sat smiling and putting in a word now and then, not to stem, but to direct the torrent. Listening indeed with somewhat wandering attention to the flow, Ursula presently became aware that she was being asked a question.

“How long am I staying?” she repeated. “Till Monday week, I think.”

“A pity it's not longer. Flo's coming on Saturday; I mean Saturday week, the Saturday before that Monday. You must wait and see her.”

Flo was the third member of the Campion family. She had lived with the others in Bath, and she and Ursula had been close friends.

“Flo! Is she really? Oh, I certainly must see her. I don't like to think how many years it is since we met. But I'm afraid I couldn't stay longer. I have to be home on Tuesday.”

“Put it off, whatever it is,” Alice urged. “It can get on quite well without you.”

“No, I really think I ought to go home. What about Sunday? Suppose I were to come over in the afternoon?”

“Come and spend the day on Sunday. That would be better than nothing.”

“Oh I couldn't, Alice. I couldn't leave Julia for the whole of my last day. But I'll come in the afternoon.”

After some grumbling on the part of Alice Campion it was arranged that Ursula should go over in time for tea and stay for the evening, when Dr. Campion would run her back to St. Kilda.

“You must see the house,” Alice declared. “I don't think we were settled in last time you were here.”

They went through all the rooms, of which Alice was evidently extremely proud. Ursula duly admired everything she saw, though to herself she admitted that the furniture was all very ordinary. Indeed, she was surprised that Alice had not shown better taste. However, she told herself that if it pleased Alice, it was efficiently serving its purpose.

One new and elaborate piece of furniture formed an exception to the rule, an inlaid and beautifully carved radio gramophone; really an ornament to any room. Ursula cried out with genuine delight when she saw it.

“Say that to Howard,” Alice answered. “He's just finished making it and it's the apple of his eye at present. If you praise it he'll take you to his heart at once.”

“
Making
it?” Ursula repeated in astonishment. “You don't mean that he made that case?”

“He made everything you see and fitted in all its works. And it has a very good tone too. Listen.” She turned a switch and the room was filled with the sickly pulsating throbs of a cinema organ.

“You must see his workshop,” Alice went on; “only he'd like to show it to you himself. He really can do anything with his hands. But of course he's got good tools. I don't know what that place hasn't cost him,” and she produced further samples of Campion's skill. Ursula was fond of anything mechanical and she took a mental note to remember to see the workshop on her next visit.

In discussing old times the day slipped quickly away, and evening had come and Alice had driven her guest to the St. Kilda bus before they had finished half what they wanted to say.

Ursula was enjoying her visit to the Earles. She had quite settled down into their ways, and she had the freedom to amuse herself that she so much liked. In the forenoon she lay about and read, while Marjorie added page after page to the latest tale of love and longing and Julia busied herself about the house. In the afternoon they usually went exploring, either in the car or on foot. James Earle spent a good deal of his time on the golf links, but sometimes he stayed working in his study or amusing himself in the most leisurely way with odd jobs about the place. After dinner they usually played bridge.

No discord had so far marred the visit. On several other occasions Reggie Slade had put in an appearance, after which he and Julia generally somewhat mysteriously vanished. In spite of Marjorie's request Ursula had not spoken to Julia on the subject of Slade. She felt it would be a useless impertinence. It was not as if Julia were a girl. She was a woman of very nearly Ursula's own age, and she knew what she was doing and how far she intended to go without advice from any other person. Ursula indeed felt that her interference would cost her her friend, and she did not see why she should pay this price for no adequate return.

Then one day a trifling but unpleasant incident took place which worried Ursula and made her fear that affairs at St. Kilda were in a more parlous state than she had supposed.

It occurred towards the end of her visit—on a Thursday, and she was leaving the following Monday. That morning Dr. Earle had said he was going to play on the Merrow links, near Guildford, and that he would stay afterwards for bridge, returning only in time for dinner. This had happened twice before since Ursula's arrival and the intimation was received without comment. Shortly after breakfast he set off in the car.

He had scarcely gone when Ursula was called to the telephone. A great friend of hers, whom she had not seen for years, was passing through London that day on her way from South Africa to Yorkshire. Would Ursula come up and lunch with her?

Ursula would. Nothing special had been arranged for that afternoon. Julia, however, was overwhelmed with regrets. If only the message had come ten minutes earlier James could have taken her to Guildford. Now Ursula would have to walk to the Shackleford road for the bus. She could, of course, get the train at Godalming and she would be in plenty of time. But it was too unfortunate that the car had gone.…

Ursula really did not mind in the least. She reassured Julia, said she would be back to dinner, and started off.

Again it was a lovely day and she enjoyed her journey. At Waterloo her friend met her, and as it was early for lunch, they decided to carry out one or two small commissions first. One of these took them to Marylebone Station, and it was when they were returning to the Marble Arch that the incident happened.

They were walking along the east side of Seymour Place, when near the crossing of Upper George Street a car overtook them, travelling at a very slow speed. Ursula glanced at it casually and instantly became rigid.

The car was Dr. Earle's and in it sat Earle himself. For a moment Ursula could not believe her eyes and almost stopped, staring. But she had not been mistaken. It was James Earle beyond any shadow of doubt.

In a dream she watched the car. It pulled in to the pavement a few steps beyond where she and her companion were walking, and came to a stand. As it did so a lady whom she had vaguely noticed waiting on the footpath, stepped forward. Earle opened the door, the lady entered, and the car drove off, turning westwards at Upper Berkeley Street. It must have been held up at the Edgeware Road crossing, for when Ursula reached Upper Berkeley Street she glimpsed the car disappearing westwards into Connaught Street.

The little incident had taken place not more than a dozen feet from Ursula, and she had a good look at the woman. It was someone she had never seen before. She was young and rather plainly dressed in grey and was good-looking after the classical Grecian fashion. She seemed to know Earle well.

Scarcely hearing the “Someone you know?” of her friend, Ursula gazed after the retreating vehicle. James Earle! That quiet meek little man, with his uncomplaining acceptance of his wife's vagaries, his shy friendship with herself and his unobtrusive interest in books! Here was another side to his character! She could not have imagined his taking the law into his own hands like this.

There was, of course, no earthly reason why her host should not come up in his car to Town, meet a lady, and drive her wherever she wanted to go. If that were all neither Julia nor anyone else could have had the least objection. But the fact that Earle should have thought it necessary to hide his action made all the difference. He had said that he was going to spend the day playing golf at Merrow. That statement changed an innocent meeting into a guilty one. He would have had no need to tell that story unless he had something to hide.

For Julia Ursula had no sympathy whatever. Julia had only got what she very richly deserved. At the same time, Ursula was sorry. She had no special moral scruples on these subjects, but her experience told her that such a state of affairs could lead only to unhappiness. Ursula wanted everyone to be happy, and it hurt her when she saw possible happiness being missed.

However, the affair was no business of hers. Dismissing it from her mind, she lunched with her friend, saw her off to the north and returned to Waterloo. But in the train the matter recurred to her. Gradually she began to wonder could she not have been mistaken. There really was something in that theory of doubles. She remembered how on one occasion at a musical festival at Cheltenham several people had come up and spoken to her, calling her Miss Oliphant. A strange and disconcerting experience! Probably this was a similar case. The man was exceedingly like Earle, but he was not Earle. Of course, on the other hand, there was the car.…

Then Ursula thought that she was merely making a fool of herself; building up this vast edifice of distrust and suspicion on no real foundation whatever. Why should not the same thing have happened to Earle as had happened to herself? Why should not he too have received an unexpected message requiring his presence in Town?

This, she felt, was the explanation of the mystery. She was now curious to meet Earle, to hear him tell of this unexpected change in his plans.

When, however, they met for dinner Earle made no reference to his day. Ursula, however, watching him covertly, thought he seemed restless, as if trying to hide some repressed excitement. She could not control her interest in the affair, and in spite of her decision that it was not her business, she felt she must obtain some information.

“Did you have a good day's golf, Dr. Earle?” she asked at the next pause in the conversation.

He started, unmistakably; started and paused before replying. Then with an evident effort he said: “Quite good. In fact, though I say it who shouldn't, I covered myself with glory in going round in three less than I had done before. I don't suppose I shall ever do such a thing again.”

Ursula was unhappily satisfied. Earle had spoken in a self-conscious way that left no doubt that he was lying. Indeed, it was his usually straightforward character which had prevented him from hiding it.

It was not then an unexpected call to Town. Ursula's common sense warned her to let the thing alone, but her curiosity would not allow of this.

“I had an unexpected journey to-day,” she went on conversationally. “I was in Town. I lunched there.”

Earle was evidently suspicious, and though he achieved a creditable reply, it had no conviction. Disappointed, Ursula with an effort turned the conversation to the views visible from the train, and they began to discuss the country.

Sunday came without further incident, and after lunch Ursula took the Godalming bus and walked up from the Shackleford road to the Red Cottage. It was another splendid day, warm and summery as early September. Ursula was looking forward with a good deal of eagerness to seeing Flo Campion. Flo had been her special pal and for a dozen years they had not met. Flo was companion to a wealthy old lady, a great traveller. With her she had been twice round the world, and had spent months in China, Japan, the South Sea Islands, and other places out of the beaten tourist track.

The meeting proved as satisfying as Ursula had anticipated. Flo Campion was but little changed. No reserve had grown up which required to be thawed, and the two women were able to pick up their friendship at the point at which they had laid it down. Flo had seen much during her travels, and as she had the gift of putting her experiences in an interesting way, time passed quickly and pleasantly.

Shortly before dinner Howard Campion came in. He was a tall man, of rather slight build, though evidently healthy and muscular. His manners were quiet and direct, and though he was retiring rather than pushing, in his personality there seemed to Ursula latent force. She felt that he would be a good man in a tight place.

When they had chatted for some time Ursula turned the conversation to the radio gramophone. “Alice tells me you made it, Dr. Campion. I do think it's a wonderful piece of work. I've never seen one which was a greater ornament to a room.”

Campion was obviously delighted. “Won't you come and see my workshop, Miss Stone? I have a rather good lathe which might interest you, if you care for such things.”