The Admirable Tinker | Page 3

any more that day; and the nurse came in and
fetched her out. That interview didn't do me any good."
"It hardly sounds the thing for an injured spine," said Lord Crosland.
"A few days later we had another; and she had the cheek to tell me that
one day I should be grateful to her for having saved me from the
clutches of a designing girl--rank idiocy, you see, for she was only
keeping us apart for the time being. But it set me talking about the firm
of Stryke & Wigram; and for once I got her really angry. It did me
good. Yet, you know, she really believed it; she believed that she was
acting for the best."
"Of course," said Lord Crosland thoughtfully, "she didn't know Miss
Vane, I mean Lady Beauleigh, your wife. It would have made all the
difference."
"I've made that excuse for her often enough," said Sir Tancred. "But it
doesn't carry very far. Just look at the cold-bloodedness of it: there was
I, a helpless cripple, in a good deal of pain most of the time, mad for a
word of my wife; and that damned woman kept back her letters. Talk
about the cruelty of the Chinese--an ordinary woman can give them
points, and do it cheerfully!"
"They are terrors," said Lord Crosland with conviction.
"Well, there I lay; and I had to grin and bear it. But, well, I don't want
to talk about it. The only relief was that once a week my stepmother
seemed to feel bound to come and tell me that it was all for my good;
and I could talk to her about the manners and customs of the banking
classes. Then, after five and a half months of it, when I was looking
forward to getting free and to my wife, she came and told me that
Pamela was dead. I refused to believe it; and she gave me a letter from
Vane's solicitor informing her of the fact."
"Poor beggar!" said Lord Crosland.

Sir Tancred was silent; he was staring at nothing with sombre eyes.
Lord Crosland looked at him compassionately; presently he said, "It
explains your face--the change in it. I was wondering at it. I couldn't
understand it."
"What change? What's the matter with my face?" said Sir Tancred
indifferently.
"Well, you used to be a cheerful-looking beggar, don't you know. Now
you look like what do you call him--who fell from Heaven--Lucifer,
son of the Morning. I read about him at Vane's, mugging up poetry for
that exam."
"You'll hardly believe it," said Sir Tancred very seriously, "but I took to
reading books myself at Beauleigh, when I got all right--reading books
and mooning about. I had no energy. I went and saw Vane's solicitor of
course; but he could tell me nothing, or wouldn't tell me. Said his client
had called on him, and told him to inform my stepmother of Pamela's
death, and had not told him where she died, or where he was now living.
I fancied he was keeping something back; but I had no energy, and I
didn't drag it out of him. I went to Stanley House; it was to be let. No
one could tell me where the Vanes had gone. I stayed at
Beauleigh--mooning about. I wouldn't go to Oxford; and I wouldn't
travel. I mooned about. Six months ago I came across Vicary at a
meet--you remember Vicary at Vane's?--he told me that Vane had died
in Jersey. I went to Jersey, and found Vane's grave. Next to it was my
wife's."
Again Sir Tancred fell silent in a gloomy musing.
"Well?" said Lord Crosland gently.
"The oddest thing happened. It doesn't sound exactly credible; and you
won't understand it. I don't. But as I stood by the grave, I suddenly felt
that there was something for me to do, something very important that
had to be done. It was odd, very odd. I went back to my hotel quite
harassed, puzzling and racking my brains. Then an idea struck me; and

I had a hunt through the registers. I found that two days before she died
a boy was born, Hildebrand Anne Beauleigh--the old Beauleigh names.
She knew that I should like him to be called by them. From the
registers I learnt where they had been living. I rushed off to the house,
and found it empty and to let--always these shut-up houses. I made
inquiries and inquiries, from the house agents and the tradespeople. I
could learn nothing. They had lived very quietly. But there was a child;
people had seen him wheeled about in a perambulator. He had
disappeared. I suspected my stepmother at once; and I hurried back to
Beauleigh. It had bucked me up, don't you