<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</SPAN></span></p>
<div class="break">
<h2 class="p4">CHAPTER XIII</h2>
<p class="pch">TWO PROPOSALS</p>
<p class="drop-cap05"><span class="beg">THREE</span> days after her visit to the theatre
with Sir Joseph Rayner, Joy Gargrave
went north to Westmorland, accompanied
by Miss La Farge. She was staying with old
friends a few miles from the home of Sir James
Bracknell at Harrow Fell, and her hostess, remembering
Dick Bracknell’s devotion to her, gossiped
freely.</p>
<p>“You remember Sir James’ eldest son, the one
whom we used to say ran on your heels, Joy?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” answered Joy, in a voice that was not very
encouraging.</p>
<p>“He went to the dogs—all the way. There was
a bad scandal, and though it was hushed up for Sir
James’ sake, Dick Bracknell had to run the country.
No one knows where he is now or whether he is
alive or dead, but it is thought the latter; anyway,
we are all beginning to look on Geoffrey as the heir
of Harrow Fell. He is coming over here at the
week-end for the final grouse-shoot of the season,
and Adrian Rayner is coming also. Your uncle
fished for an invitation for him, and my husband
could not very well refuse, you know. I fancy,”
she added with a knowing little laugh, “it isn’t
merely grouse he is after.”</p>
<p>Joy gave no sign of understanding, but when the
week-end arrived, bringing with it Adrian Rayner,<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</SPAN></span>
she was left in no uncertainty as to her cousin’s intentions.
He haunted her steps. He was always
at hand with assistance which she did not want; and
when Geoffrey Bracknell also arrived, there was
something like open rivalry between them. Her
friend and hostess laughed.</p>
<p>“You will have a brace of proposals before the
shoot is over, Joy.”</p>
<p>“Not if I can help it,” answered Joy quickly.</p>
<p>“You will not be able to help it,” was the reply.
“They are both determined young men and their
minds are made up.”</p>
<p>“So is mine,” replied Joy.</p>
<p>Yet it was as her hostess said. On the day of the
shoot, Geoffrey Bracknell walked with her across
the moor towards the “butts” built of turf and behind
which they were to wait for the driven birds.
They reached her own shelter first, and as she
dropped to an improvised seat, Geoffrey Bracknell
halted and looked down at her.</p>
<p>“Miss Gargrave, there is—er—something that
I want to say, and to—a—ask you.”</p>
<p>She looked up and met his honest eyes, eyes that
to her mind recalled not his brother, her husband,
but the eyes of his cousin Corporal Bracknell of the
Mounted Police. What she read there brought
a quick flush to her face, and she hastily put up a
protesting hand.</p>
<p>“Please, Mr. Bracknell, don’t! Don’t spoil our
friendship!”</p>
<p>“Ah!” said the young man, his face paling a
little, “you understand what I want. Is it really
quite impossible?”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Yes,” she answered with directness, “it is quite
impossible.”</p>
<p>Geoffrey Bracknell whistled softly to himself.
He had suffered a blow, but he strove to behave
like a gentleman. “Then I am sorry to have
troubled you, Miss Gargrave. Of course I knew
that I was not—er—worthy—”</p>
<p>“Oh, it is not that,” she intervened in a distressed
voice. “It is—something else, it has nothing to do
with you at all!”</p>
<p>“But it knocks me out!” he said trying to smile.
“Well, it is the fortune of war. I suppose that I
shall have to persuade the governor to let me go
on a big game trip, now. That is, the proper thing
to do under the circumstances, isn’t it?”</p>
<p>Again she met his eyes, he was still smiling, but
she could see the effort it required. She held out
a hand impulsively.</p>
<p>“Geoffrey,” she said, “don’t let this spoil your
life, or our friendship. I cannot now explain what
makes my refusal imperative. Some day I may be
able to, and when I can I shall tell you, if you are
still my friend.”</p>
<p>“Then you’ll have to tell me,” he said frankly,
“for I shall always be that. Couldn’t be anything
else, you know.... But there’s the head-keeper
signalling; I must move on to my own butt. Good
hunting!”</p>
<p>He laughed with forced lightness and walked
away. Joy watched him go with pain at her heart.
How like his cousin he was, and how unlike his
brother! She felt very sorry for the boy, and the<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</SPAN></span>
incident had disturbed her so much that she shot
very badly. Again and again as the birds came
driving towards her she either didn’t fire or fired
too late, but from the butt where Geoffrey Bracknell
waited, the shots came at regular intervals, and
she saw the birds drop every time. Then a covey
of grouse came driving with the wind straight
towards her neighbour’s shelter. She waited.
There was a sharp report, and a sudden cry, and
the birds drove on. She looked towards the shelter.
It was almost in a line with her own, and she could
see something lying on the ground behind it.
Another flock of birds drove down the wind, but
there was no shot from Geoffrey Bracknell’s gun.
A sudden fear assailed her. Leaving her own gun
resting against the turf wall, she ran towards the
next butt. Before she reached it, she knew that
something dreadful had happened, for she could
see that the young man was lying on his back in the
heather. She reached the shelter and a cry broke
from her.</p>
<p>White faced and still, with a ghastly wound in
his right temple, Geoffrey Bracknell lay there, quite
dead. As she looked at him, she had no doubt
whatever about the matter, and a great agony
surged up in her heart.</p>
<p>Had he—? Her eyes fell on the gun close
by, and before the thought which had assailed her
was completed she knew that it was groundless.
The lock of the gun was blown out, and the base
of both barrels was fractured. It had been an
accident.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“Thank God,” she whispered to herself, delivered
from the fear which had assailed her, “it was not—”</p>
<p>She dropped on her knees by his side and took
his hand. It was already cold, as she raised it to
her lips.</p>
<p>“Poor boy! Poor boy!”</p>
<p>She was in tears as she rose from her knees,
and began to walk towards the next butt. The
news spread quickly and the shoot was stopped,
and the body was taken first to the village, and
later in the day to Harrow Fell. And that night
Joy’s hostess, discussing the tragedy, set a problem
before her, which kept her awake far into the night.</p>
<p>“Poor Sir James,” she said. “He is left without
a child, for as I told you no one knows anything
at all about Dick Bracknell, and it doesn’t matter
very much whether he is alive or dead, to any one
but his cousin Roger, for he can never return to
England.”</p>
<p>“To his cousin Roger,” echoed Joy, visioning
the corporal, “why should it matter to him?”</p>
<p>“Because if Dick is out of the way, Harrow Fell
will pass to him on Sir James’ death. The estates
are entailed, you know.”</p>
<p>Instantly Joy saw the difficulties of the situation.
Dick Bracknell might be dead, or he might be
very much alive. In the former case, the way was
quite clear for his cousin; but in the latter, there
were possibilities that filled her with dread. The
corporal had left North Star in an endeavour to
solve the mystery of the disappearance of his
cousin’s body. If Dick Bracknell were yet alive<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</SPAN></span>
and he overtook him, he would probably try to effect
his arrest, and if Dick resisted there might be trouble,
and possibly Corporal Bracknell might be
driven to have recourse to arms. Suppose he shot
his cousin, and so, in innocence, cleared his own way
to the succession of Harrow Fell? Her face
clouded, and an anxious look came into her eyes.
She was recalled to herself by her hostess’s voice.</p>
<p>“A penny for your thoughts, Joy.”</p>
<p>Joy prevaricated a little. “I was thinking what
a strange coil life is!” she answered.</p>
<p>“In what way?”</p>
<p>“Well, the last person I spoke to, before I left
North Star to come to England, was Roger Bracknell!”</p>
<p>“Roger Bracknell!” echoed her hostess in surprise.</p>
<p>“Yes, he is in the Mounted Police, and, in the
way of duty, he came to North Star, three days or
so before I left.”</p>
<p>“That is an odd coincidence,” was the comment.
“What did you think of him, my dear?”</p>
<p>Joy answered with reserve. “He seemed to be
very nice—a gentleman, you know.”</p>
<p>Her hostess smiled. “Yes, Roger is that—the
right sort, as my husband would say. He, at any
rate, will never disgrace the Bracknell clan, for he
is at the opposite pole from his cousin Dick.
What did he look like?”</p>
<p>“Like a mounter!” answered Joy quickly.</p>
<p>“A mounter! Don’t talk slang, Joy. Interpret,
please.”</p>
<p>“Well,” answered Joy smilingly, “a mounter is<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</SPAN></span>
a member of the Royal North West Mounted
Police, who are as fine a body of men as you may
find from one end of the Empire to the other.”</p>
<p>“And therefore Roger Bracknell is a fine man,
hey?”</p>
<p>“He struck me as being so!” answered Joy composedly.
Her friend glanced at her with shrewd
eyes. “Hum!” she said. “You are very discreet,
my dear Joy. Now you know that the truth is
that Roger Bracknell is a man who takes the eye, a
handsome man in fact, and why you should be
reluctant to own up—”</p>
<p>“Own up! What do you mean?” interrupted
Joy, her face growing suddenly scarlet.</p>
<p>“Nothing,” laughed her friend, “except that
Roger Bracknell is a man to whom few women
could be as indifferent as you pretend to be. But
I must cut this conversation short. There’s
Adrian Rayner looking for you, and coming this
way. I’ll send him on to you.”</p>
<p>“Please don’t,” cried Joy; but her hostess only
laughed, and as she walked towards the young man
Joy fled to her room.</p>
<p>Late into the night she considered the possibilities
which had presented themselves to her mind at
the mention of Roger Bracknell’s possible succession
to Harrow Fell, and in the morning she rode
to the post office in the neighbouring country town,
and there dispatched two cablegrams, one to
Roger Bracknell, care of the Police Commissioner
at Regina, explaining to him the circumstances, and
one to the Commissioner himself asking for the
whereabouts of Corporal Bracknell, prepaying a<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</SPAN></span>
reply. Three days later the reply reached her in
London.</p>
<p>“Corporal Bracknell reported as missing. Supposed
lost.”</p>
<p>When she received it, she was greatly distressed,
and rather hurriedly made up her mind to
return at once to North Star. Why she should do
so, she did not make clear even to herself; and when
Adrian Rayner pressed her for her reason, she was
covered with confusion.</p>
<p>“Joy,” he protested, “you must not do anything
so foolish. You have fulfilled the terms of your
father’s will to the letter, and now your place is
here in England. We all want you here! I want
you more than any one else on earth. Do you
understand?”</p>
<p>She gave him no reply to the question, but he
explained further, leaving her no room for doubt.
“I love you, Joy. I loved you when you were here
in England three years ago. I loved you at North
Star. I love you more madly than ever, now.
Will you marry me?”</p>
<p>“I can’t,” she said. “Don’t press me, Adrian.”</p>
<p>“But why can’t you?” he asked ruthlessly. “At
least you owe me a reason for refusal. I wonder
if that reason has anything to do with this foolishness
of returning to North Star.”</p>
<p>She was a little startled by the acuteness of his
conjecture, and did not immediately reply. He
smiled a trifle grimly, and then continued. “If it
has, you can dismiss that reason from your mind
for good. Dick Bracknell is dead.”</p>
<p>“Dick Bracknell! What—”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Her voice faltered as she met his gaze. “Yes,”
he answered. “Dick Bracknell, <i>alias</i> Koona Dick.
He was your husband, wasn’t he? You married
him down at Alcombe, didn’t you?”</p>
<p>“How do you know?” she asked quiveringly.</p>
<p>“That is a private matter,” he replied. “Just
as your marriage was private; and just as the manner
of your husband’s death must be kept private
for the good of us all.”</p>
<p>“What ... what do you mean, Adrian?” she
asked in a trembling voice, her face ghastly with
sudden terror.</p>
<p>“I mean that I know who shot Koona Dick,” he
answered slowly.</p>
<p>“Oh!” she gasped, her hand over her heart in
a wild endeavour to stay its fierce beating. “Oh!
what—what—”</p>
<p>“There is no need for you to be other than frank
with me. I saw the whole thing. I saw you get
that message. I followed you into the woods.
You took a gun with you, and you hid in the trees
where you could see your husband arrive. I saw
the flame of your shot, and that same second Dick
Bracknell fell in the snow. Mark you, I do not
blame you. Dick Bracknell was worthless and—”</p>
<p>“But oh!” sobbed Joy with horror in her face.
“You are mistaken. It is not true. I never—”</p>
<p>“Why try to bluff me, Joy? I say I saw you
and if you were not the person who killed Dick
Bracknell, why did you make no mention of what
had occurred when you returned to the Lodge?
That is not the way of innocence.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Joy did not reply. Her face was buried in her
hands and she was sobbing convulsively. Rayner
looked at her with shrewd eyes, then after a moment
resumed in an altered tone—</p>
<p>“As I have said, Joy, my dear, I do not blame
you; I even went out of my way to help you that
night.”</p>
<p>“You ... you went—”</p>
<p>“Exactly, I saw that policeman find Dick’s body,
and afterwards leave it, and go towards the
Lodge. I knew that things might be awkward if the
truth came out, so I disposed of the body.”</p>
<p>“You disposed of the body?” She lifted her
head suddenly, and through her tears looked at
him incredulously.</p>
<p>“Yes,” he answered airily. “It is difficult to
prove a crime if there is no evidence of it, so I
removed the material evidence, to the utter confusion
of any theory that Corporal Bracknell might
have formed.”</p>
<p>“But how? What—”</p>
<p>“I carried it away, and dropped it through an
ice-hole in the river. It will never be found until
the ice breaks up in the spring, and then it is not
at all likely. I took a little risk, I know; but I
did it for your sake, believe me, Joy, quite as much
as for my own.”</p>
<p>“I do not understand how it affected you,”
faltered the girl.</p>
<p>“Perhaps not,” answered Rayner suavely.
“But you have heard the reason. I loved you. I
wanted to marry you, even at that time I wanted<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</SPAN></span>
you; for I recognized that you were distraught
when you—”</p>
<p>“Oh please! Please! Do not say it!” she
cried.</p>
<p>“Very well,” he answered. “I will not. But
you understand the position, and I think you will
agree that knowing what I know there are not a
great number of men who would wish to marry
you.”</p>
<p>“And why should you?” she asked quickly.</p>
<p>“Again because I love you.”</p>
<p>She sat there in silence, staring absently at a vase
of chrysanthemums on the table, and seeing them
not at all. In her mind she was again living
through the horror of that night at North Star,
searching for something that would give the lie to
Adrian Rayner’s statement. And suddenly she remembered
something. That sled which had
halted in the wood. Who had been with it? Her
gaze moved quickly from the vase to her cousin’s
face, and on it she surprised a cynical, calculating
look that stirred deep distrust in her.</p>
<p>“You say you dropped Dick Bracknell’s body
through the ice? It was rather a long way to the
river. How did you get it there?”</p>
<p>For one second Rayner hesitated. He was not
sure of the bearing of the question, but after the
brief hesitation he answered, “I carried it, of
course.”</p>
<p>Joy had marked the hesitation, and to her came
the swift realization that he was lying. She
marked his slim form, and remembered Dick Bracknell’s
height and bulk, and the sudden conviction<span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</SPAN></span>
deepened. But she gave no hint of it to Rayner,
who stood watching her, sure that he could bend her
to his will. She offered no comment on his reply,
but thoughtfully twisted a ring upon her finger,
while her mind sought for a way out of her immediate
difficulty.</p>
<p>“Well, Joy,” he asked, “you will marry me?”</p>
<p>She rose abruptly from her chair. “No,” she
said on a sudden impulse. “Not on the evidence of
Dick’s death that you offer. I cannot consider—”</p>
<p>“You are not wise!” he interrupted. “You are
in my hands, remember.”</p>
<p>“Oh, but you mistake me,” she cried. “I am
not saying that I will never marry you. I am
only saying that the evidence of Dick’s death is
not sufficiently convincing.” She lifted a hand as
he would have interrupted her. “No! Let me
finish. When we left Corporal Bracknell at North
Star, he knew that I was Dick’s wife, and he undertook
to find out what had become of Dick’s body.
There was some one else in the woods at North
Star that night, some one who probably witnessed
all that occurred. That person, I fancy, Roger
Bracknell means to find. And when I have heard
that man’s story—”</p>
<p>“You shall certainly hear it, for I will find that
man myself. I will drag him across the world to
tell it to you.”</p>
<p>He spoke vehemently, passionately, but in his
bearing there was something besides vehemence and
passion. His face had gone white, and in his eyes
was a furtive look. Joy noticed these signs, but
gave no indication of having done so.</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>“You!” she cried, “you will go? What will you
be able to do?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” he answered sharply. “I will go. I will
do what your bungling corporal has not been able
to do. I will bring you proof of Dick Bracknell’s
death. I will find that man who was in the wood,
if there was a man—”</p>
<p>“There is no question of that,” she broke in. “I
found his trail, and Corporal Bracknell found it
too. I believe he followed it—”</p>
<p>“Ah!”</p>
<p>The expression on Rayner’s face, as the interjection
broke from him, was one of mingled chagrin
and fear. Joy noticed it, and it set her wondering
again. Then quite suddenly she remembered something.
Roger Bracknell had asked her if Adrian
Rayner knew of her marriage with her cousin.
She had answered that he did not, but he had known
all the time! The significance of the question had
not made itself felt at the time, but now it broke
on her with startling force, and Rayner saw that
something had happened to which he had no clue.</p>
<p>“What is it?” he asked sharply.</p>
<p>“Nothing!” she answered evasively. “But in
view of all the circumstances I think I shall return
to North Star myself before long.”</p>
<p>He was about to reply when there came an interruption.
Miss La Farge entered the room.</p>
<p>“The car is waiting, Joy, and we are behind time.
We really must be going if Mr. Rayner can excuse
you.”</p>
<p>“Right, Babette. Cousin Adrian was just about
to go, as we have finished our discussion, I believe.”</p>
<p><span class="pagenum"><SPAN name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</SPAN></span></p>
<p>Rayner nodded. “Yes,” he said. “We have
finished, and I am going. But I shall see you again,
Joy, very shortly, certainly before I go to the
North.”</p>
<p>Joy nodded and making his adieu Adrian Rayner
passed out of the room.</p>
<hr class="chap" /></div>
<div style="break-after:column;"></div><br />