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Julian obeyed, and the dog was like live iron with determination under his grasp. "Some one is with you, Lawler," the doctor said. "Does he wish to see me?" "If you please, sir, it is Mr. Cresswell, Mr. Valentine come back for Mr. Addison." Julian felt himself go suddenly pale. Rather reluctantly, Julian acted on the advice of Doctor Levillier and went out of town for a week on the following day.
In front was the high pillared porch, semi-circular, extending to the roof with a balcony in the second story. On the right was a broad verandah looking toward a wide lawn, with the main road and the red swamp in the distance. The butler met them, all obeisance. "Ask Miss Helen to come down," said Mr. Cresswell. Sam glanced at him.
But now the doctor turned from the sun to the lady of the feathers, and there was a bright light in his quiet eyes. "You and I must fight with all our forces," he said. "Have you ever thought about this thing will which Cresswell worships insanely? Have you ever felt it in you, Miss Bright?"
Cresswell was the President, and the future President, Hannen, my junior. We won a great victory through the remarkable over-confidence and indiscretion of Edwin James, Q.C., who opposed us. James's client was the husband of the deceased. By her will the lady had left him the whole of her property, amounting to nearly £100,000.
Pity surged and fought in his breast; but one thought held and burned him. He bent to her fiercely: "Who?" he demanded. She pointed toward the Cresswell Oaks, and he turned away. She did not attempt to stop him again, but dropped her hands and stared drearily up into the clear sky with its shining worlds. "Good-bye, Bles," she said slowly. "I thank God he gave you to me just a little time."
She did not struggle she dropped her hands listlessly, wearily, and stood but half conscious as the door opened and Mr. Harry Cresswell entered the dimly lighted room. She opened her eyes. She had expected his father. Somewhere way down in the depths of her nature the primal tiger awoke and snarled. She was suddenly alive from hair to finger tip.
"How did you come in then?" asked Gilling. "Cousin Jim Spurge's bike down in the stable-yard, now," answered Spurge. "Did it comfortable in under the hour." "I think we ought to go out there some of us," said Gilling. "We ought " At that moment the door opened and Sir Cresswell Oliver came in, holding a bit of flimsy paper in his hand.
Along beside it ever runs that dark and haunting echo; that shadowy world-in-world with its accusing silence, its emphatic self-sufficiency. Mrs. Cresswell at first demurred. She thought of Elspeth's cabin: the dirt, the smell, the squalor: of course, this would be different; but well, Mrs. Cresswell had little inclination for slumming.
"I begs pardon, Mistress I begs pardon. Good-morning." "Good-morning " she hesitated. "Sykes Jim Sykes that's me." "Yes, I've heard of you, Mr. Sykes; you live over south of the swamp." "Yes, ma'am, that's me; and I'se got a little shack dar and a bit of land what I'se trying to buy." "Of Colonel Cresswell?" "Yas'm, of de Cunnel." "And how long have you been buying it?"
As she awaited her guests she surveyed the table with both satisfaction and disquietude, for her social functions were few, tonight there were she checked them off on her fingers Sir James Creighton, the rich English manufacturer, and Lady Creighton, Mr. and Mrs. Vanderpool, Mr. Harry Cresswell and his sister, John Taylor and his sister, and Mr.
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