The Wooden Hand

Young Hill said nothing. He fancied that Horace Parkins might know more about Mr. Strode than Eva would like to hear, for if the man was so great a scamp in England, he certainly would not settle down to a respectable life in the wilds. However he said nothing on this point, but merely reiterated his promise to find out who murdered Robert Strode, and then drew Eva down beside him. "What about yourself?" he asked anxiously.

"I don't know. Mrs. Merry wants me to stop here."

"I should think that is the best thing to do."

"But I can't," replied Eva, shaking her head; "Mrs. Merry is poor. I can't live on her."

"I admire your spirit, Eva, but I don't think Mrs. Merry would think you were doing her anything but honour."

"All the more reason I should not take advantage of her kindness."

Allen laughed. "You argue well," he said indulgently. "But see here, dearest. My mother is fond of you, and knows your position. She wants you to come to her."

"Oh, Allen, if she were alone I would love to. I am very devoted to your mother. But your father-"

"He won't mind."

"But I do," said Eva, her colour rising. "I don't like to say so to you, Allen, but I must."

"Say what?"

"That I don't like your father very much."

"That means you don't like him at all," said the son coolly. "Dear me, Eva, what unpleasant parents you and I have. Your father and mine-neither very popular. But you won't come?"

"I can't, Allen."

"You know my father is your dead father's dearest friend."

"All the same I can't come."

"What will you do, then?" asked Allen vexed.

"Go out as a governess."

"No; you must not do that. Why not-"

Before Allen could propose anything the door opened and Mrs. Merry, with a sour face, ushered in Mrs. Palmer. The widow looked prettier and brighter than ever, though rather commonplace. With a disdainful sniff Mrs. Merry banged the door.

"Eva, dear," said Mrs. Palmer. "Mr. Hill, how are you? I've come on business."

"Business?" said Eva surprised.

"Yes. Pardon my being so abrupt, but if I don't ask you now I'll lose courage. I want you to come and be my companion."

CHAPTER IX

THE MYSTERIOUS PARCEL

So here was a way opened by Providence in an unexpected direction. Mrs. Palmer, with a high colour and rather a nervous look, stood waiting for Eva's reply. The girl looked at her lover, but Allen, very wisely, said nothing. He thought that this was a matter which Eva should settle for herself. But he was secretly amused at the abrupt way in which the little widow had spoken. It seemed as though she was asking a favour instead of conferring one. Miss Strode was the first of the three to recover, and then she did not reply immediately. She first wanted to know why Mrs. Palmer had made so generous an offer.

"Do sit down," she said, pushing forward a chair, "and then we can talk the matter over. I need not tell you that I am very thankful for your kind offer."

"Oh, my dear;" Mrs. Palmer sank into the chair and fanned herself with a lace handkerchief, "if you accept it, it is I who shall be thankful. I do hate living by myself, and I've never been able to find a companion I liked. But you, dear Eva, have always been a pet of mine. I have known you for four years, and I always did think you the very dearest of girls. If you will only come we shall be so happy."

"But what makes you think that I want to be any one's companion?"

Mrs. Palmer coloured and laughed nervously. She was very pretty, but with her pink and white complexion and flaxen hair and pale blue eyes she looked like a wax doll. Any one could see at a glance that she was perfectly honest. So shallow a nature was incapable of plotting, or of acting in a double fashion. Yet Eva wondered all the same that the widow should have made her so abrupt a proposal. So far as she knew, no one was aware that she was in want of money, and it seemed strange if providential that Mrs. Palmer should come in the very nick of time to help her in this way.

"Well, my dear," she said at length and looking at her primrose-hued gloves, "it was Lord Saltars who led me to make the offer."

"My cousin." Eva frowned and Allen looked up. "Do you know him?"

"Oh yes. Didn't I mention that I did?"

"No. I was not aware that you had ever met."

"We did in town about a year ago. I met him only once when I was at Mr. Mask's to dinner. Since then I have not seen him until the other day, and perhaps that was why I said nothing. I remember you told me he was your cousin, Eva, but I quite forgot to say that I knew him."

"Do you know Mr. Mask?" asked Hill.

"Of course I do. You know I quarrelled with my old lawyer about the money left by Palmer. He was most disagreeable, so I resolved to change for a nicer man. I spoke to your father about it, and he kindly gave me the address of his own lawyer. I went up and settled things most satisfactorily. Of course Mr. Mask is a fearful old mummy," prattled on Mrs. Palmer in her airy fashion, "but he is agreeable over legal matters, and understands business. Palmer's affairs were rather complicated, you know, so I placed them all in Mr. Mask's hands. He has been my lawyer ever since, and I have every reason to be pleased."

"And you met my cousin there?" said Eva doubtfully.

"Lord Saltars? Yes. I was dining with Mr. Mask and his wife in their Bloomsbury Square house, a doleful old place. Lord Saltars came in to see Mr. Mask on business after dinner, so Mr. Mask asked him in to drink coffee. I was there, and so we met."

"Did he mention my name?" asked Miss Strode stiffly.

"Oh dear, no. He was unaware that I lived in the same village as you did. We talked about general things. But he mentioned it to me the other night at the circus, when I went to see the performance at Shanton."

"Did you go there?"

"Yes, my dear, I did," said Mrs. Palmer laughing. "I'm sure this place is dull enough. Any amusement pleases me. I didn't know at the time that your father was dead, Eva, or I should not have gone-not that I knew Mr. Strode, but still, you are my friend, and I should have come to comfort you. But you know I'm at the other end of the village, and the news had not time to get to me before I started for Shanton to luncheon with some friends. I remained with them for the night, and we went to the circus. Lord Saltars sat next to me, and we remembered that we had met before. In the course of conversation I mentioned that I lived at Wargrove, and he asked if I knew you. I said that I did."

"How did Lord Saltars know of the murder?" asked Allen hastily.

"I believe he learned it from one of the performers called Miss-"

"Miss Lorry," said Eva colouring-"I remember. Cain told her, and she had the audacity to speak to me."

Allen said nothing, remembering the message Miss Lorry had delivered relative to the wooden hand. He had not spoken of it to Eva hitherto, and thought wisely that this was not the time to reveal his knowledge. He preferred to listen to Mrs. Palmer, who as yet had not shown how she came to know that Eva needed the offer of a situation.

"So Miss Lorry spoke to you?" said Mrs. Palmer with great curiosity; "such a bold woman, though handsome enough. Lord Saltars seems to think a lot of her. Indeed I heard a rumour that he was about to marry her. My friends told me. But people will gossip," added Mrs. Palmer apologetically.

"Lord Saltars and his doings do not interest me," said Eva coldly. "We have only met once, and I don't like him. He is too fast for me. I could never enjoy the company of a man like that. I think as he was related by marriage to my father, he might have called to see me about the matter, and offered his assistance."

"We can do without that," cried Allen quickly.

"Lord Saltars doesn't know that we can," replied Eva sharply; "however, I understand how you met him, Mrs. Palmer, and how he came to know about the murder through Miss Lorry, who heard of it from Cain. But what has all this to do with your asking me to be your companion?"

Mrs. Palmer coloured again and seemed embarrassed. "My dear," she said seriously, "I shall have to tell you about Mr. Mask first, that you may know all. After the inquest he called to see me-"

"But he came here," put in Eva.

"Quite so, and told you that your father had left no money."

"How do you know that?"

"Mr. Mask told me," said the widow simply, and laid her hand on Eva's hand; "don't be angry, my dear. Mr. Mask came to me and told me you were poor. He asked me if I would help you in what way I could, as he said he knew I was rich and kind hearted. I am the first, but I really don't know if I'm the last."

"I think you are," said Miss Strode softly. "I never gave Mr. Mask leave to talk of my business, and I don't know why he should have done so, as he did not seem to care what became of me."

"Oh, but I think he intended to help you if he could, and came to tell me of your dilemma for that purpose, Eva."

"Apparently he wished to play the part of a good Samaritan at your expense, Mrs. Palmer," said Eva drily; "however, I understand how you came to know that I needed assistance, but Lord Saltars-"

"Ah!" cried the widow vivaciously, "that is what puzzles me. Lord Saltars seems to think you are rich."

"Rich?" echoed Allen, while Eva also looked surprised.

"Yes. He said you would no doubt inherit your father's money. I answered-pardon me, Eva-that Mr. Strode was not rich, for I heard so in another quarter."

Eva looked at Allen, and Allen at Eva. Both guessed that the quarter indicated was Mr. Hill, who had a long tongue and small discretion. Mrs. Palmer, however, never noticed the exchange of glances, and prattled on. "Lord Saltars insisted that your father had brought home a fortune from Africa."

"How did he know that?" asked Allen quickly.

"I don't know, he didn't say. I of course began to believe him, for when I hinted doubts, Lord Saltars said that if I offered to help you, I would learn that you were poor. I really thought you were rich, Eva, till Mr. Mask came to me, or I should have come before to make you this offer. But Mr. Mask undeceived me. I told him what Lord Saltars had said, but Mr. Mask replied that his lordship was quite wrong-that Mr. Strode had left no money, and that you would not be able to live. I therefore came to ask you to be my companion at the salary of one hundred a year. I don't know how I dare offer it, my dear," said the good-hearted widow; "and if I hadn't spoken just when I came in, I should not have had the courage. But now I have made the offer, what do you say?"

"I think it is very good and kind of you-"

"And bold. Yes, I can see it in your eyes-very speaking eyes they are-that you think I am bold in meddling with your private affairs. But if you really think so, please forgive me and I'll go away. You may be sure I'll hold my tongue about the matter. If every one thinks you are rich-as they do-it is not for me to contradict them."

Eva laughed rather sadly. "I really don't know why people think I am rich," she said in a low voice; "my father has always been poor through speculation. What his money affairs were when he came home I don't know. He said nothing to me, and no papers were found at the hotel or in his pockets, likely to throw light on them. He never told Mr. Mask he was rich-"

"I thought at the inquest Mr. Mask said something about money being left in his charge, Eva?" said Allen.

Miss Strode nodded. "My father mentioned that later he might give Mr. Mask some money to hold for him, and that he would come again himself to get it. If not, he would send his wooden hand as a sign that the money should be handed over to any one who brought it."

"Humph," said Allen pulling his moustache, "it seems to me that the hand has been stolen for that purpose."

"If so, it will be taken to Mr. Mask, and then we will learn who stole it. But of course Mr. Mask will not be able to give any money, as my father-so he said-never left any with him."

"This is all most interesting and mysterious," said Mrs. Palmer. "Oh dear me, I wonder who killed your poor father? Don't look anxious, Eva; what you and Mr. Hill say, will never be repeated by me. All I come for is to make this offer, and if you think me rude or interfering I can only apologise and withdraw."

Eva caught the widow by the hand. "I think you are very kind," she said cordially, "and I thankfully accept your offer."

"Oh, you dear girl!" and Mrs. Palmer embraced her.

"Have you quite decided to do that, Eva?" asked Allen.

"Quite," she answered firmly. "Mrs. Palmer likes me-"

"I quite adore you, Eva, dear!" cried the widow.

"And I am fond of her."

"I know you are, dear, though you never would call me Constance."

"Later I may call you Constance," said Eva, smiling at the simple way in which Mrs. Palmer talked. "So you may look upon it as settled. I shall come to be your companion whenever you like."

"Come at once, dear."

"No, I must wait here a few days to reconcile my old nurse to my departure."

"Mrs. Merry? Oh, Eva, I am afraid she will hate me for this. She doesn't like me as it is. I don't know why," added Mrs. Palmer dolefully; "I am always polite to the lower orders."

"Mrs. Merry is an odd woman," said Eva rising, "but her heart is in the right place."

"Odd people's hearts always are," said the widow. "Wait here and talk to Allen," said Eva going to the door. "I'll see about tea."

But the fact is Eva wanted to talk to Mrs. Merry, anxious to get over a disagreeable interview, as she knew there would be strenuous opposition. To her surprise, however, Mrs. Merry was in favour of the scheme, and announced her decision when Eva came to the kitchen.

"Don't tell me about it, Miss Eva," she said, "for I had my ear to the keyhole all the time."

"Oh, Nanny!"

"And why do you say that?" asked the old woman bristling; "if I ain't got the right to look after you who has? I never cared for that Mrs. Palmer, as is common of commonest, so I listened to hear what she'd come about."

"Then you know all. What do you say?"

"Go, of course."

"But, Nanny, I thought-"

"I know you did, deary," said Mrs. Merry penitently. "I'm always calling folk names by reason of my having bin put on in life. And Mrs. Palmer is common-there's no denying-her father being a chemist and her late husband eggs and butter. But she's got a kind heart, though I don't see what right that Mask thing had to talk to her of your being poor when I've got this roof and fifty pound. Nasty creature, he wouldn't help you. But Mrs. Palmer is kind, Miss Eva, so I say, take what she offers. You'll be near me, and perhaps you'll be able to teach her manners, though you'll never make a silk purse out of a swine's ear."

Eva was surprised by this surrender, and moreover saw that Mrs. Merry's eyes were red. In her hands she held a letter, and Eva remembered that the post had called an hour before. "Have you had bad news, Nanny?" she asked anxiously.

"I got a letter from Giles," said Mrs. Merry dully; "he writes from Whitechapel, saying he's down on his luck and may come home. That's why I want you to go to Mrs. Palmer, deary. I can't keep you here with a nasty, swearing jail-bird in the house. Oh dear me," cried Mrs. Merry, bursting into tears, "and I thought Giles was dead, whatever you may say, drat him!"

"But, Nanny, you needn't have him in the house if he treats you badly. This place is your own."

"I must have him," said the old woman helplessly, "else he'll break the winders and disgrace me before every one. You don't know what an awful man he is when roused. He'd murder me if I crossed him. But to think he should turn up after all these years, when I thought him as dead and buried and being punished for his wickedness."

"Nanny," said Eva kissing the poor wrinkled face, "I'll speak to you later about this. Meanwhile I'll tell Mrs. Palmer that I accept her offer."

"Yes do, deary. It goes to my heart for you to leave. But 'tis better so, and you'll have your pride satisfied. And it will be Christian work," added Mrs. Merry, "to dress that widder properly. Rainbows ain't in it, with the colours she puts on."

Eva could not help smiling at this view of the matter, and withdrew to excuse herself offering tea to Mrs. Palmer. Nanny was not in a state to make tea, and Eva wished to return and learn more, also to comfort her. She therefore again told Mrs. Palmer that she accepted the offer and would come to her next week. Then taking leave of Allen, Eva went back to the kitchen. Mrs. Palmer and her companion walked down the road.

"I hope you think I've acted rightly, Mr. Hill," said the widow.

"I think you are most kind," said Allen, "and I hope you will make Eva happy."

"I'll do my best. She shall be a sister to me. But I think," said Mrs. Palmer archly, "that some one else may make her happier."

"That is not to be my fate at present," said Allen a little sadly. "Good-bye, Mrs. Palmer. I'll come and see you and Eva before I go to town."

"You'll always be welcome, Mr. Hill, and I can play the part of gooseberry." So they parted laughing.

Allen, thinking of this turn in Eva's affairs which had given her a home and a kind woman to look after her, walked towards the common to get a breath of fresh air before returning to "The Arabian Nights." Also he wished to think over his plans regarding meeting Horace Parkins and searching for Butsey, on whom seemed to hang the whole matter of the discovery of Strode's assassin. At the end of the road the young man was stopped by a tall, fresh-coloured girl neatly dressed, who dropped a curtsey.

"Well, Jane, and how are you?" asked Allen kindly, recognising the girl as Wasp's eldest daughter.

"I'm quite well, and, please, I was to give you this," said Jane.

Allen took a brown paper parcel and looked at it with surprise. It was directed to 'Lawrence Hill.' "My father," said Allen. "Why don't you take it to the house?"

"I saw you coming, sir, and I thought I'd give it to you. I've just walked from Westhaven, and father will be expecting me home. I won't have time to take the parcel to 'The Arabian Nights.'"

"Where did this come from?" asked Allen, tucking the parcel under his arm.

"I got it from Cain, sir, at Colchester."

"Have you been there?" asked Hill, noting the girl's blush. He knew that Cain and Jane Wasp admired one another, though the policeman was not at all in favour of Cain, whom he regarded, and with some right to do so, as a vagabond.

"Yes, sir. Mother sent me over with a message to a friend of hers. I walked to Westhaven and took the train to Colchester. Stag's Circus is there, and I met Cain. He brought that parcel and asked me to take it to Mr. Hill."

"But why should Cain send parcels to my father?" asked Allen.

"I don't know, sir. But I must get home, or father will be angry."

When the girl marched off-which she did in a military way suggestive of her father's training-Allen proceeded homeward. The parcel was very light and he could not conjecture what was inside it. He noted that the address had been written by some one to whom writing was a pain, for the caligraphy sprawled and wavered lamentably. Cain had been to a board school and could write very well, so apparently it was not his writing. Allen wondered who could be corresponding with his father, but as the matter was really none of his business, he took the parcel home. At the gate of "The Arabian Nights" he met his father.

Mr. Hill was as gay and as airy as ever, and wore his usual brown velvet coat and white trousers. Also he had on the large straw hat, and a rose bloomed in his buttonhole. He saluted his son in an offhand manner. "I've been walking, Allen," he said lightly, "to get inspiration for a poem on the fall of Jerusalem."

"I think some Italian poet has written on that subject, sir."

"But not as it should be written, Allen. However, I can't waste time now in enlightening your ignorance. What have you here?"

"A parcel for you," and Allen gave it.

"For me, really." Mr. Hill was like a child with a new toy, and sat down on the grass by the gate to open it. The removal of the brown paper revealed a cardboard box. Hill lifted the lid, and there were two dry sticks tied in the form of a cross with a piece of grass. But Allen looked at this only for a moment. His father had turned white, and after a moment quietly fainted away. The young man looked down with a haggard face. "Am I right after all?" he asked himself.

CHAPTER X

MRS. HILL EXPLAINS

An hour later Allen was conversing with his mother. Mr. Hill, carried into the house by Allen, had been revived; but he steadfastly refused to speak as to the cause of his fainting; and put it down to the heat of the weather and to his having taken too long a walk. These excuses were so feeble that the son could not help his lip curling at their manifest untruth. Hill saw this and told Allen he would lie down for an hour or so. "When I rise I may tell you something," he said feebly.

"I think we may as well understand one another," said Allen coldly.

"Bring in here those things which came in the parcel," said Hill.

"Only one thing came," replied his son-"a rough cross-"

"Yes-yes-I know. Bring it in-paper and box and all. Where did you get it?"

Allen explained how Jane Wasp received it from Cain at Colchester, and Mr. Hill listened attentively. "I understand now," he said at length. "Put the things in my study. I'll see you later-say in two hours."

The young man, wondering what it all meant, departed and left his father to take-on the face of it-a much needed sleep. He went outside and picked up the cross, the box, and the paper, which still remained on the grassy bank near the gate. These he brought into the study, and examined them. But nothing was revealed to his intelligence. The box was an ordinary cardboard one; he did not recognise the ill-formed writing, and the cross was simply two sticks tied together by a wisp of dry grass. Why the contents of the box should have terrified his father Allen could not say. And that the sight of the symbol did terrify him, he was well assured, since Mr. Hill was not a man given to fainting. The box came from some one who knew Mr. Hill well, as the name Lawrence was on it, and this was his father's second name rarely used. Mr. Hill usually called himself Harold, and suppressed the Lawrence. But Allen had seen the middle name inscribed in an old book, which had been given by Strode to Hill in their college days. This coincidence made Allen wonder if the sending of the cross and the use of the rarely used name had anything to do with the murder.

While he thus thought, with his face growing darker and darker, the door opened and Mrs. Hill entered. She had been working in her own room, and knew nothing of the affair. But some instinct made her aware that Allen was in the house, and she never failed to be with him when he was at home. Indeed, she was hardly able to bear him out of her sight, and seized every opportunity to be in his presence. With this love it was strange that Mrs. Hill should be content that Allen should remain in South America for so long, and pay only flying visits to the paternal roof.

"You are back, Allen," she said softly, and came forward to lay her hand on his wrinkled forehead. "My dear boy, why that frown? Has Eva been unkind?"

"Oh no," said Allen, taking his mother's hand and kissing it, "she will not marry me yet."

"Foolish girl. What does she intend to do-stop with Mrs. Merry, I suppose, which is a dull life for her? Far better if she came to me, even if she will not marry you at once."

"She has accepted the position of companion to Mrs. Palmer."

"Indeed," said Mrs. Hill, looking surprised; "I should have thought her pride would have prevented her placing herself under an obligation."

Allen shrugged his shoulders. "There is no obligation," he said; "Eva is to be paid a salary. Besides, she likes Mrs. Palmer, and so do I."

"She is not a lady," said Mrs. Hill, pursing up her lips.

"Nevertheless she has a kind heart, and will make Eva very happy. I think, mother, it is the best that can be done. Eva doesn't want to come here, and she will not marry me until the murderer of her father is discovered."

"Why won't she come to me?" asked Mrs. Hill sharply.

Allen looked down. "She doesn't like my father," he said.