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Updated: June 18, 2025
Sir Allan asked quietly. "No, he didn't go as far as that. By the bye, you know every one, Beaumerville. Who is this Bernard Maddison? Of course I know all about his writing and that; but what family is he of? He is certainly a gentleman." Sir Allan threw away his cigarette, and rose. "I think I have heard once, but I don't remember for the moment.
The magistrates will be sure to commit you for trial. They must have evidence enough for that, or Mr. Malcolm would never have signed the warrant against anyone in your position." "I am quite prepared for that," he answered. "Let us go." They left the room at once. Helen had fainted in her chair. Sir Allan Beaumerville had apparently disappeared.
The man advanced to him at once. "You are my prisoner, Sir Allan Beaumerville," he said quietly. "I hold a warrant here for your arrest on the charge of having murdered Sir Geoffrey Kynaston on the 12th of August of last year." Those who were watching Sir Allan's face closely saw only a slight change. Its deep pallor grew only a shade more livid, and there was a faint twitching of the features.
He could not tell whence the power, and yet he obeyed the impulse. They glanced over the man with indifference and met the woman's upturned gaize. And Sir Allan Beaumerville stood like a figure of stone, with a deathlike pallor in his marble face. The stream of carriages swept on, and the motley crowds of men and women passed on their way unnoticing.
Sir Allan Beaumerville, Bart., dilettante physician and man of fashion, was, on the whole, one of the most popular men in London society. He was rich, of distinguished appearance, had charming manners, and was a bachelor, which combination might possibly account in some measure for the high esteem in which he was held amongst the opposite sex.
"I have been away longer than I intended," Bernard Maddison answered quietly. "Of course you dine here," Mr. Thurwell continued, moving away. "You'll find Beaumerville in the library or the smoke room. You know your way about, don't you? My gamekeeper wants to speak to me for a moment. I shan't be long." He crossed the hall, and entered his own room.
The action of the mind is instantaneous. All these thoughts and doubts merely flashed through it, and they left her very confused and undecided. Her sense of gratitude towards him for shielding her before Sir Allan Beaumerville, and the intuitive sympathy of her nature with the delicacy and tact which he had shown in his manner of doing so, were on the whole stronger than her shadowy suspicions.
"I would rather stay," she said quietly. "I shall not faint, or do anything stupid, I promise you." Sir Allan Beaumerville looked at her curiously. It was a strange thing to him, notwithstanding his wide experience, to find a girl of her years so little outwardly moved by so terrible a tragedy. Mr. Thurwell, too, was surprised.
Sir Allan Beaumerville was standing on the threshold, looking at her in mute amazement, and over his shoulder was the pale stern face of Mr. Brown. Afterwards Helen looked back upon those few moments as the most uncomfortable of her life.
"By the bye," she wound up, with a curious look at her niece, "Sir Allan Beaumerville was there, and seemed a good deal disappointed at the absence of a certain young lady." "Indeed!" answered Helen. "That was very nice of him. And now, aunt, do you know what I came in to say to you?" Lady Thurwell shook her head. "Haven't any idea, Helen. Has anyone been making love to you?"
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