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Updated: May 18, 2025
Thurwell remarked. "A man of his celebrity can scarcely conceal his family history." Helen had walked a little away, and was standing before the window, looking out with listless eyes. "Father, I wonder whether Sir Allan Beaumerville has anything to do with this?" she said. "Has he ever hinted to you that he suspected Mr. Maddison?" "Certainly not," he answered. "Why do you ask?"
"We have a visitor, Bernard only one; but I'm afraid you don't like him." Something told him who it was. He stopped short in the path. "Not Sir Allan Beaumerville?" She nodded. "Yes. I'm so sorry. He invited himself; and there is something I must tell you about him." His first instinct was to refuse to go on, but it was gone in a moment, after one glance into Helen's troubled face.
Gradually the idea sprang up, and began to circulate, that Sir Allan Beaumerville had formed an idea of his own concerning the Maddison murder, and that it was one which he intended to keep to himself. Every one was curious about it, but in the face of his reticence, no one cared to ask him what it was.
"To the Home Secretary, to a party of us as we sat at supper, his guests at the club. Helen, be prepared for a great surprise. The murderer was Sir Allan Beaumerville." "I know it," Helen whispered hoarsely across the room. "Have they arrested Sir Allan?" Mr. Thurwell's surprise at his daughter's knowledge was forgotten in the horror of the scene which her words had called up.
Helen was scarcely less agitated. She caught hold of the edge of the table to steady herself. Her voice seemed to come from a great distance. "Sir Allan! I do not understand. Why did he do that horrible thing?" "Sir Geoffrey Kynaston and my husband were mortal enemies," answered Lady Beaumerville, her voice scarcely raised above a whisper. "Mine was the fault, mine the guilt. Alas! alas!"
Of course his impregnability gave rise to all manner of stories. He had been jilted in his youth, he had a wife alive, or he had had one, and she was dead, none of which rumors met any large amount of credence. As to the first, the idea of anyone jilting Sir Allan Beaumerville, even before his coming into the baronetcy, found no favor in the feminine world.
I have no luggage here, so I do not need to make any preparations." He felt a hand on his arm, and turned round. Mr. Thurwell had recovered from his first stupefaction, and had come to his side. Close behind him, Sir Allan Beaumerville was standing, pale as death, and with a curious glitter in his eyes. "Maddison, what is this?" Mr. Thurwell asked gravely.
Helen felt a woman's instinctive liking for him before she had even heard him speak. "Have you thought us long, Helen?" her father exclaimed anxiously. "We haven't seen anything of the scoundrel, but Heggs was fortunate enough to meet Sir Allan Beaumerville on the moor, and he very kindly offered to return." Sir Allan was on his knees by the body before Mr. Thurwell had finished his sentence.
Mr. Maddison was evidently not used to society. Several people said so who saw him suddenly turn his back on that charming old gentleman, Sir Allan Beaumerville, and leave him in the middle of a sentence. Lady Meltoun, who happened to notice it, was quite distressed at seeing an old friend treated in such a manner. But Sir Allan took it very nicely, everybody said.
Helen Thurwell, who had come late with her aunt, was sitting on a low couch near one of the windows. By her side was Sir Allan Beaumerville, and directly in front of her the Earl of Meltoun, with a teacup in his hand, was telling her stories of his college days with her father. There had been a great change in her during the last six months.
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