Witching Hill by E. W. Hornung Page B

so."
    Miss Julia eyed him with a puzzled smirk.
    "How could you always think a thing I've only just invented?" she asked acutely.
    "Well, you see, it's happened in real life before to-day," he faltered, seeing his mistake.
    "Like a good deal of my story, it appears?"
    "Like something in every story that was ever written. Truth, you know - - "
    "Quite so, Mr. Delavoye! But I saw you looking at Mr. Gillon a minute ago as though something else was familiar to you both. And I should just like to know what it was."
    "I'm sure I've forgotten, Miss Brabazon."
    "It wasn't the part about the - the Turkish building in the grounds - I suppose?"
    "Yes," said Uvo, turning honest in desperation.
    "And where am I supposed to have read about that?"
    "I'm quite certain you never read it at all, Miss Brabazon!"
    Now Miss Julia had lost neither her temper nor her smile, and she had not been more severe on Delavoye than his unsatisfactory manner invited. But the obvious sincerity of his last answer appeased her pique, and she leant forward in sudden curiosity.
    "Then there is a book about him, Mr. Delavoye?"
    "Not exactly a book."
    "I know!" she cried. "It's the case you'd been reading the other night - isn't it?"
    "Perhaps it is."
    "Was he actually tried - that Lord Mulcaster?"
    The wretched Uvo groaned and nodded.
    "What for, Mr. Delavoye?"
    "His life!" exclaimed Uvo, moistening his lips. Miss Julia beamed and puckered with excitement.
    "How very dreadful, to be sure! And had he actually committed a murder?"
    "I've no doubt he had," said Uvo, eagerly. "I wouldn't put anything past him, as they say; but in those days it wasn't necessary to take life in order to forfeit your own. There were lots of other capital offences. The mere kidnapping of the young lady, exactly as you describe it - - "
    "But did he really do such a thing?" demanded Miss Julia.
    And her obviously genuine amazement redoubled mine.
    "Exactly as you have described it," repeated Delavoye. "He travelled in the East, commenced Bluebeard on his return, fished his Fatima like yours out of some little shop down Shoreditch way, and even drove her to your own expedient of turning her tears to account!"
    And he dared to give me another look - shot with triumph - while Miss Julia supported an invidious position as best she might.
    "Wait a bit!" said I, stepping in at last. "I thought I gathered from you the other day, Miss Brabazon, that you felt the reality of your story intensely?"
    "I did indeed, Mr. Gillon."
    "It distressed you very much?"
    "I might have been going through the whole thing."
    "It - it even moved you to tears?"
    "I should be ashamed to say how many."
    "I daresay," I pursued, smiling with all my might, "that even your handkerchief was heavy with them, Miss Brabazon?"
    "It was!"
    "Then so much for the origin of that idea! It would have occurred to anybody under similar circumstances."
    Miss Julia gave me the smile I wanted. I felt I had gone up in her estimation, and sent Delavoye down. But I had reckoned without his genius for taking a dilemma by the horns.
    "This is an old quarrel between Gillon and me, Miss Brabazon. I hold that all Witching Hill is more or less influenced by the wicked old wizard of the place. Mr. Gillon says it's all my eye, and simply will not let belief take hold of him. Yet your Turkish building actually existed within a few feet of where we're sitting now; and suppose the very leaves on the trees still whisper about it to those who have ears to hear; suppose you've taken the whole thing down almost at dictation! I don't know how your story goes on, Miss Brabazon - - "
    "No more do I," said Miss Brabazon, manifestly impressed and not at all offended by his theory. "It's a queer thing - I never should have thought of such a thing myself - but I certainly did dash it all off as if somebody was telling me what to say, and at such a rate that my mind's still a blank from one page to the next."
    She picked the script out of her lap, and we watched