The Clock Struck One - Fergus Hume

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at once, "who is Lady Burville?"

      "Dear Miss Carew," cried the old man, ignoring the question, and rising to his feet, "pray be seated in this chair. The sun is hot, but here you will be out of the glare."

      "Never mind about the glare and the chair," said Dora, making an unconscious rhyme; "I asked you a question. Who is Lady Burville?"

      "Lady Burville?" repeated Joad, seeing he could no longer escape answering; "let me see. Mr. Pride said something about her. Oh yes: she is the wife of Sir John Burville, the celebrated African millionaire, and I believe she is the guest of Sir Harry Hernwood at the Hall."

      "Go on," said Dora, seeing that he paused; "what else do you know?"

      "Nothing. What I repeated was only Pride's gossip. I am ignorant of the lady's history. And if you come to that, Miss Dora," added Joad with a grotesque smile, "why should I not be ignorant?"

      "But you hinted that Lady Burville knew Allen's father," persisted Dora, annoyed by his evasion of her question.

      "Did I?" said Joad, suddenly conveying a vacant expression into his eyes. "I do not remember, Miss Dora. If I did, I was not thinking of what I was saying."

      "You are wilfully deceiving me, Mr. Joad."

      "Why should I, Miss Dora? If I knew anything about this lady I would tell you willingly; but it so happens that I know nothing."

      "You spoke as though you knew a good deal, retorted Dora angrily.

      "I spoke at random, young lady. And if you--why, what's the matter with Julian?"

      It was little wonder that he asked the question, for Edermont had opened his window again, and was hanging out of it crying and gesticulating like some terrible Punch.

      "Lambert! Lambert!" he shrieked. "Come and help me! He will kill me--kill me!"

      Joad shuffled towards the house as quickly as his old legs could take him. He was followed by the astonished Dora, and they were about to step into the entrance-hall, when Allen Scott came flying down the stairs. He was wild-eyed, breathless, and as gray in hue as the clothes he wore.

      "Allen!" cried Dora, recoiling at his mad looks, "what is the matter?"

      "Don't stop me, for God's sake!" said the doctor hoarsely, and avoiding her outstretched hand, he fled hastily down the garden-path. A click of the gate, which had not been locked by Joad, and he vanished from their sight.

      Dora stared at Joad; he looked back at her with a malicious grin at the flight of her lover, and overhead, at the open window, they heard the hysterical sobbing of Julian Edermont.

       CHAPTER III.

      TO EVERY MAN HIS OWN FEAR.

      After a pause of astonishment at the inexplicable flight of her lover, Dora ran upstairs to the room of Mr. Edermont. It was imperative that she should learn the truth of this disturbance, and, in the absence of Dr. Scott, her guardian was the proper person to explain the matter. Had Dora glanced back at Joad, who followed closely, she might have gathered from his malignant expression that he was likely also to afford an explanation; but in her anxiety she went directly to the door of Mr. Edermont's bedroom. It was wide open, and the occupier was still sobbing by the open window.

      "What is the matter?" cried Dora, hurrying forward. "Why has Allen----"

      Edermont lifted up a white face wet with tears, and flung out two thin hands with a low cry of terror. Then, with a sudden anxiety in his eyes, he staggered rather than walked across the room, and closed the door sharply. Joad had already entered, and, still hugging a book, stood looking grimly at the swaying figure of his patron. With his back to the door, Edermont interrogated his ward and his friend.

      "Has he gone? Is the gate closed--is it locked and barred?"

      "He has gone, and the gate is safe," said Joad, for Dora was too astonished by the oddity of these questions to reply.

      Edermont wiped the sweat from his forehead, nodded weakly, and finally subsided into an armchair. Here he bowed his face in his hands, and Dora caught the drift of the words which he muttered in a low voice. They were those of his favourite prayer from the Litany.

      "'From battle and murder, and from sudden death, good Lord, deliver us,'" moaned the man; and then in some measure he recovered his serenity.

      Seized with a sudden anger at the abject terror he had displayed, at the shameful accusation he had levelled against her lover, Dora stepped forward and faced Mr. Edermont with an indignant look.

      "Now that you feel better," she said coldly, "perhaps you will afford me an explanation."

      Edermont looked at her in a dazed manner. He was a little man, scarcely five feet in height, and had a noble head, which seemed out of place on so insignificant a body. With his long white locks and streaming beard, he was quite an imposing figure when seated; but when standing, the smallness of his body, of his hands and feet, detracted from the majesty of his patriarchal looks. Also, his eyes were timid and restless; the silvery beard, which swept his breast, hid a weak mouth; and, stripped of his venerable disguise, Mr. Edermont would, no doubt, have looked what he was--a puny, irresolute, and insignificant animal. As it was, he imposed on everyone--until they knew him better. Dora had long since fathomed the narrow selfishness of his nature, and she saw him for what he was, not as he appeared to the outside world. It is but fair to add that she always treated him with deference in public.

      At the present moment there was no need to keep up appearances, and Dora spoke brusquely to the little man. In her heart she had as great a contempt for him as she had a disgust for Joad. They were both objectionable, she considered, and each had but one redeeming point--the noble head of Edermont, the noble voice of his friend. Beyond these, the first was more of a rabbit than, a man; the second rather a satyr than a human being. Never had Dora detested the pair more than she did at the present moment.

      "I am waiting for your explanation, Mr. Edermont," she said again, as he did not reply.

      "I have no explanation for you," retorted her guardian wearily; "go away, Dora, and leave me in peace."

      The girl took a seat, and folded her arms.

      "I don't leave this room until I know why Allen left the house," she said firmly.

      "What has that to do with you?" cried Edermont in shrill anger; "our conversation was about private matters."

      "It was about Lady Burville."

      "What do you know of that woman?" he demanded, shrinking back.

      "I know that the mere sight of her caused you to faint," said Dora slowly, "and I know also that she was acquainted with Allen's father."

      "Lambert, you have betrayed me!" said Edermont in a tone of terror.

      "You have betrayed yourself, Julian," was Joad's reply. "I can guess why Allen Scott left the house."

      "I--I could not help myself. I was--oh, I was afraid," muttered Edermont, passing his hand over his eyes.

      "You have cause to be afraid--now," retorted Joad; and with a look of contempt at the shrinking figure of his friend he turned and left the room. Dora waited until his heavy footsteps died away, then she turned again to Edermont.

      "Why did Allen leave the house?" she asked with obstinate insistence.

      "That is my business."

      "And mine also. I have a right to know why you have driven away the man whom I am about to marry."

      Edermont burst into unpleasant mirth. "That's all over and done with, my dear," he said, staring at her. "Allen Scott will never marry you--now."

      "What have you told him?" she gasped, turning pale.

      "I have told him something which will keep him away from this house--something which will prevent

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