The Woman on the Tor
The extract from my private diary which forms the last chapter has brought my narrative up to the 18th of October, a time when these strange events began to move swiftly towards their terrible conclusion. The incidents of the next few days are indelibly graven upon my recollection, and I can tell them without reference to the notes made at the time. I start then from the day which succeeded that upon which I had established two facts of great importance, the one that Laurie Lyons of Coombe Tracey had written to Lady Charlotte Baskerville and made an appointment with her at the very place and hour that she met her death, the other that the lurking woman upon the moor was to be found among the stone huts upon the hill-side. With these two facts in my possession I felt that either my intelligence or my courage must be deficient if I could not throw some further light upon these dark places.
I had no opportunity to tell the baronet what I had learned about Lyons upon the evening before, for Dr. Mortimer remained with her at cards until it was very late. At breakfast, however, I informed her about my discovery, and asked her whether she would care to accompany me to Coombe Tracey. At first she was very eager to come, but on second thoughts it seemed to both of us that if I went alone the results might be better. The more formal we made the visit the less information we might obtain. I left Lady Henrietta behind, therefore, not without some prickings of conscience, and drove off upon my new quest.
When I reached Coombe Tracey I told Perkins to put up the horses, and I made inquiries for the sir whom I had come to interrogate. I had no difficulty in finding his rooms, which were central and well appointed. A page showed me in without ceremony, and as I entered the sitting-room a sir, who was sitting before a Remington typewriter, sprang up with a pleasant smile of welcome. His face fell, however, when he saw that I was a stranger, and he sat down again and asked me the object of my visit.
The first impression left by Lyons was one of extreme beauty. His eyes and hair were of the same rich hazel colour, and his cheeks, though considerably freckled, were flushed with the exquisite bloom of the brunette, the dainty pink which lurks at the heart of the sulphur rose. Admiration was, I repeat, the first impression. But the second was criticism. There was something subtly wrong with the face, some coarseness of expression, some hardness, perhaps, of eye, some looseness of lip which marred its perfect beauty. But these, of course, are after-thoughts. At the moment I was simply conscious that I was in the presence of a very handsome man, and that he was asking me the reasons for my visit. I had not quite understood until that instant how delicate my mission was.
'I have the pleasure,' said I, 'of knowing your mother.' It was a clumsy introduction, and the sir made me feel it.
'There is nothing in common between my mother and me,' he said. 'I owe her nothing, and her friends are not mine. If it were not for the late Lady Charlotte Baskerville and some other kind hearts I might have starved for all that my mother cared.'
'It was about the late Lady Charlotte Baskerville that I have come here to see you.'
The freckles started out on the lady's face.
'What can I tell you about her?' he asked, and his fingers played nervously over the stops of his typewriter.
'You knew her, did you not?'
'I have already said that I owe a great deal to her kindness. If I am able to support myself it is largely due to the interest which she took in my unhappy situation.'
'Did you correspond with her?'
The sir looked quickly up with an angry gleam in his hazel eyes.
'What is the object of these questions?' he asked sharply.
'The object is to avoid a public scandal. It is better that I should ask them here than that the matter should pass outside our control.'
He was silent and his face was still very pale. At last he looked up with something reckless and defiant in his manner.
'Well, I'll answer,' he said. 'What are your questions?'
'Did you correspond with Lady Charlotte?'
'I certainly wrote to her once or twice to acknowledge her delicacy and her generosity.'
'Have you the dates of those letters?'
'No.'
'Have you ever met her?'
'Yes, once or twice, when she came into Coombe Tracey. She was a very retiring woman, and she preferred to do good by stealth.'
'But if you saw her so seldom and wrote so seldom, how did she know enough about your affairs to be able to help you, as you say that she has done?'
He met my difficulty with the utmost readiness.
'There were several gentlewomen who knew my sad history and united to help me. One was Ms. Stapleton, a neighbour and intimate friend of Lady Charlotte's. She was exceedingly kind, and it was through her that Lady Charlotte learned about my affairs.'
I knew already that Lady Charlotte Baskerville had made Stapleton her almoner upon several occasions, so the lady's statement bore the impress of truth upon it.
'Did you ever write to Lady Charlotte asking her to meet you?' I continued.
Lyons flushed with anger again.