The Heath Hover Mystery Page 14

answering each other.

  "What a picture!" cried the girl, turning an animated face upon her newguardian. "Heavens, what a picture! And to think that this timeyesterday I was staring at a row of hideous black chimney pots under ahideous murky sky. Not only yesterday, but day after day before! And--Uncle Seward, you _live_ in the midst of _this_!"

  Mervyn smiled to himself, then at her, and his smile was a very good oneto behold.

  "Yes, dear, I do," he answered gently. "And now you are going to aswell."

  Down a steep road between dark woods, then an opening. A long reach ofice cleft their depth; then a sudden quacking as several wild ducksprang upwards from an open hole by the sluice, and swished high abovetheir heads.

  "Wild duck, aren't they?" cried the girl, turning her head to watchthem, then looking up the frozen expanse. "Why it might be some lake inthe middle of the backwoods of Canada, such as one reads about."

  "Yes, so it might. I can tell you you haven't come into exactly a tamepart, even in our southern counties, which reminds me that I didn'tsufficiently rub it into you that you would have to--well--er--rough ita bit."

  "If you had, that would have made it better still," was the answer. "Iprefer country places that are not too civilised."

  "That's fortunate," rejoined Mervyn with a pleased smile, "for you'll beexactly suited as far as that goes, in my shack."

  Up another steep bit of road at a foot's pace. It was quite dusk now,but a golden moon, at half, rising over the tree-tops, threw a glitterupon the frosty banks. Quite close by an owl hooted.

  "Oh, but this is too lovely for anything," cried Melian. "By the way,what on earth are people talking about when they talk about the hoot ofan owl being dismal. Why, it's melodious to a degree."

  "Great minds skip together, dear. That's just what I think."

  In his own mind the speaker was thinking something else; thinking ittoo, with a great glow of satisfaction. They would get on splendidlytogether. All her ideas, so far expressed, were the exact counterpartof his own. What a gold mine he had lighted on when he had openedViolet Clinock's letter but a couple of days back. Then he became awarethat Melian had turned, with a quick movement, and was gazing at himwith a curious--he even fancied half-startled--look.

  "That was exactly one of father's expressions," she said slowly. "And--do you know, Uncle Seward, you _are_ so like him."

  "Am I, dear?" was the answer, made very gently. "All the better,because then I shall be all the more able, as far as possible, toreplace him. But--here we are--at home."

  The waggonette had topped the rise, and was now descending a similarlywood-fringed road. On the left front extended another long, narrow,triangular expanse of ice; set in its sombre, tree-framed encasing.Below the broad end of this a light or two gleamed.

  Old Joe and his ancient spouse were there to receive them, and did sowith alacrity. It was a tacit part of the bond that they were not to berequired to remain at Heath Hover after dark, but on this occasion theywere stretching a point; partly through motives of curiosity in thatthey were anxious to see what the new arrival was like; partly, thatwith the house well lighted up, and the bustle and stir of preparation,and the advent of some one young, and therefore presumably lively, onthe scene, the idea of shadowy manifestations didn't seem in keepingsomehow.

  "Why, this is ripping," cried Melian as she obtained her first view ofthe old living-room. The deep, old-fashioned grate with its widechimney was piled high with roaring logs, and a bright lamp on the tablelighted up the low-beamed, whitewashed ceiling, and even the dark,red-papered walls. "Why, it's a typical old-world sort of place. Oughtto have a ghost, and all that kind of thing."

  At this remark the venerable Judy, who was hobbling about putting somefinishing touches to the table, stopped and stared. Then, shaking herhead, she hobbled out again.

  "What's the matter with the old party, Uncle Seward?" said Melian, whomthis behaviour struck. But she looked up too soon--just in time tocatch her uncle's frown in fact. "Is there one?" she added suddenly,and pointedly.

  "Good Heavens, child. Every blessed house that wasn't built the daybefore yesterday, that isn't reeking with raw plaster and new cement, issupposed to carry a ghost, especially in the country, and standing inlonely solitude in the middle of woods like this. Throw in a deepold-fashioned fireplace and some oak panelling and there--you've gotyour Christmas number at once."

  Telepathy may be bosh or it may not. At any rate, to Melian Seward, thelightness of her uncle's tone, together with the annoyed look she hadcaught upon his face, and the sudden perturbation of the old woman ather remark, did not carry conviction. She felt certain that there wassome story attaching to the place.

  "What a jolly old door," she remarked, catching sight of the one in thecorner, half hidden as it was, behind a curtain. "Why it looks quiteold. Oh, but it is good," going over to it with her quick, rapid habitof movement. "And the lock! Why it's splendid. What is it, UncleSeward? Sixteenth century, at least?"

  Mervyn looked at her, and strove not to look at her queerly.

  "I don't know what date it is," he said. "It leads down to an oldvault-like cellar, which probably was used for storing wine. It isn'tnow, because I'm too poor to have any wine to store. At least, I mean,darling,"--catching the expression with which she looked up--"I can'tafford to run wine cellars, but,"--and then came in a littleembarrassment--"I'm not quite too poor to be able to offer a home tomy--stranded little niece, shall we say?"

  The additional term of endearment had struck her. She looked at him inthe lamplight, standing erect and beautiful.

  "Dear Uncle Seward," she said. "I can't say anything--except that--Idon't know how it is--there seems to have come something since I metyou--since I heard from you. Why, you bring back my dear old father tome at every turn. You are so like him. You have the same expressions--everything. And yet--you were not even brothers."

  "Cousins, though. Nearly the same thing. Kiss me, child. You haven'tyet. You know--all the public squash on the station platform."

  She did, and in the act it seemed as if her dead father--dead under theimpression that he could serve her interests best by so dying--werealive and speaking within this room. Even in the quiet, containedvoice, she seemed to recognise his.

  It may have been imagination, but Mervyn seemed to think she could notwithdraw her attention from the old nail-studded, shaded door in thecorner. She kept looking at it even while they were talking. Heremembered his vigil on the night of the rescue. Heavens! was thisbeastly, deluding mesmeristic effect going to hold her too, now at thefirst few minutes of her arrival? Then a diversion occurred. A cryfrom Melian suddenly drew his attention.

  "What's this? Oh you little sweet. Here come to me, littlepooge-pooge!"

  The little black kitten had suddenly landed itself, without notice, uponthe white tablecloth, where it squatted, purring.

  "Oh, you sweet little woolly ball--where did you come from?" criedMelian, picking up the tiny creature and stuffing it into the hollow ofher cheek and neck. "Uncle Seward, did you get this on purpose for me?Tell me."

  Her cheeks were pink with animation, and her blue eyes shone.

  "No, dear. That's a special child of my own, since it's little lifebegan. It is with me always. I'm glad you've taken to it."

  "Taken to it? I should think so. Now you're going to be jealous, UncleSeward. I'm going to appropriate it. Oh, what a sweet little beast!"holding it up under the armpits. But the kitten growledexpostulatingly.

  "`Beast'? But it's human," laughed Mervyn. "Well, you shall have it,dear. Poogie--there's your new owner. See? My nose is clean out ofjoint. I can take a back seat."

  Again Melian started, and momentarily grew grave.

  "Poogie." That too was one of her father's expressions. She lookedagain at her uncle. Bright as the lamplight was, still it wasartificial light, and under it the likenesss was more and moreemphasised, in fact, startling.

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p; "Come upstairs, child, and I'll show you your room. It's right next tomine, so you've only to bang on the wall--if you want--I mean--er--ifyou were to get nervous in the middle of the night, in a strange place."

  "But what on earth should I get nervous about?" exclaimed the girl, inround-eyed wonderment.

  "Oh, nothing. But the sex is given that way, so I only thought I'd tellyou, that's all. Now, you can find your way down, and we'll have dinnerwhen you're ready."

  Left alone, Melian proceeded to look round the room. It