CHAPTER XLI

Miles and Kay came into the drawing-room about ten minutes later, Kay in the fur coat which Mr Harris had offered her as a wedding garment. It was quite a nice coat, but she hated wearing it, only as her own clothes, such as they were, had vanished into the blue and she had nothing but her thin uniform frock, she had given in to Miles’ peremptory command and put it on.

Lila looked at her strangely as she came in. They looked at each other. Then Lila said,

“You’re Kay—I’m Lila,” and Kay said, “Yes.” And then quite suddenly Lila kissed her and the strangeness was gone.

They sat round the fire—Freddy, Lila, Flossie, Miles, and Kay—and first Kay told her story and then Miles told his, and when he had finished telling it he took out of his pocket a thin tightly folded packet.

“Mrs Moore’s statement,” he said. “Kay knew that she had written one when she was dying, and she knew where she had put it—in the secret drawer of an old desk. That desk was stolen the night after Rhoda Moore died. Harris had it stolen because he wasn’t sure whether she had kept any of his letters. He didn’t find the statement because he didn’t know about the secret drawer. The desk was at 18 Varley Street, and we found the statement quite safe where Mrs Moore had hidden it. Kay and I have read it. Now I want to read it to you. It’s—it’s rather surprising.”

He unfolded the sheets and began to read:

“I am writing this for you, Kay, because when I’m gone he will try and get hold of you for the sake of the money. Now you’ll begin to say ‘What money?’—because we’ve never had any, have we? Well, I’m going to tell you about the money and about everything. I’ve never told you anything before, partly because I wanted to be everything to you, and partly because I didn’t dare. I shouldn’t dare now, only I’m going to die, so it doesn’t matter any more.

“Now right back to the beginning. In July 1914 I was living at Ealing, and I’d just had my sister’s baby thrown on my hands at a month old. Never mind about that—it’s not your story. And never mind how I came to be at the beck and call of the man whom I’m going to call Harris because that’s a name he uses now and again. He has a dozen names, but he was calling himself Harris when I first knew him and when he sent me the Macintyre baby.

“Now I’ve got to explain about the Macintyres. There were two brothers—Americans—very rich. Knox Macintyre married and quarrelled with his wife, and she came over here and had a baby and died in July 1914, and Harris sent Addie Long to fetch away the baby and Mrs Macintyre’s jewels. Addie pretended to be her sister. She brought the baby to me. I think Harris’ first idea was to try and get money out of Knox Macintyre for the return of the child, but the war began and everything was hung up. I was paid a good sum down and told to keep the baby. I was trained, so I could do it all right. I was told to keep my sister’s baby too—I hadn’t meant to. Then my next-door neighbour, who was a Mrs Lestrange, asked me if I would look after her baby while she went out to India to her husband. She was frantic to get to him. I asked Harris about it, and he said the more the merrier. You see, if I made a regular business of it, there was much less risk for me and for everyone. The Macintyre baby would be lost in the crowd so to speak.

“Well, there I was with three babies on my hands, all about the same age. I had to get in a girl to help me, and I found out afterwards that she knew who the Macintyre baby was because she’d been in service in the house where it was born, with a Mrs Smith who let rooms. Mrs Smith had a sister called Florence Palmer who had taken a crazy fancy to the baby. She followed Addie Long when she fetched it away, and she got this girl Ada to come to me as a help on purpose to keep an eye on it.

“Well, there were the three children. Mrs Lestrange’s little girl was called Katherine. The other two hadn’t any names when they came to me, and Ada called them Lily and Rose. They were both very fair, but she called the Macintyre baby Lily because she had such a white skin, and my sister’s child was Rose because of her bright colour. Have you got that clear? Katherine Lestrange—Lily Macintyre—Rose Moore.

“When they were a year old, Florence Palmer turned up. It was the first I’d seen or heard of her, but Ada came to me and told me how she used to have this craze about the Macintyre baby. Only then she had a baby of her own and cooled off. Now it seemed she’d lost her husband and her child, and she wanted to adopt Lily Macintyre. Well, it was months since I’d had any money from Harris. If it hadn’t been for Mrs Lestrange’s lawyer paying me regularly, I couldn’t have kept going. As likely as not Harris had lost interest and I might never hear from him again. I didn’t know where he was or how to get at him. The war was smashing everything up. I was very much tempted to take Mrs Palmer’s offer and get the child off my hands, but I just didn’t dare. If you ever run up against Harris, you’ll know why.

“And then I had a brain wave. I couldn’t let her have Lily Macintyre, but she could have Rose Moore and welcome. They were both pretty, fair children. She hadn’t seen Lily for months, and I thought I could bank on her not knowing that she hadn’t got the one she’d asked for. I had to square Ada. Five pounds did it. Mrs Palmer fetched the baby away and gave it her own name, so Rose Moore ceased to exist. I was left with Katherine Lestrange and Lily Macintyre, and a month or two later Ada left me to go and do munition work, and I moved away from Ealing. I moved several times in the next few years.

“Mrs Lestrange was still in India. Her husband was killed in Mespot, and she couldn’t get home because of the submarines. In the end she married again, and after the war was over she went round the world. The children were five years old before she came back. All that time I only heard once from Harris. He sent me a message saying that I was to keep the Macintyre child and he’d settle up with me later. That was in 1917. Mrs Lestrange came home in 1919. She had married again, and she was now Lady Latimer. I was quite ready for her when she came, because I had made up my mind a long time before and I knew just what I was going to do. You see, I hadn’t meant to get fond of any of the children. I’m not fond of children—I very nearly hated my sister’s child—but right from the very beginning that little Katherine Lestrange got hold of me somehow. I struggled against it hard. I tried not seeing her, not doing things for her, but it wasn’t any good. I didn’t want to love her, because what’s the good of loving another woman’s child? Just heart-break and misery. But there it was. I did love her—I’ve never loved anyone else in the world as much—and when I found how it was going to be, I made up my mind that no one should come between us and take her away. It was quite easy really. No one bothered about the child. The lawyer paid me. A cousin of Mrs Lestrange’s came down once or twice the first year, but after I moved away from Ealing no one came. You’ve got to remember the war was going on. Everyone was taken up with their own affairs.

“The day that Lady Latimer came down to fetch her child, I sent Katherine Lestrange—I sent you, Kay—out for the day. When Lady Latimer arrived, there was Lily Macintyre waiting for her as pretty as a picture. Only we didn’t call her Lily. She’d made it into Lila as soon as she could speak, and we slipped into calling her Lila too. Lila Lestrange was what I’d been calling her for two years or more. My servant only knew her as Lila Lestrange, just as she knew you as my niece Kay Moore. Lady Latimer was simply delighted. I told her we’d slipped into calling the child Lila because that was what she’d made of Katherine when she began to try and say the name herself. She was delighted with that too. She said it was the prettiest name, and that the child was the prettiest child she had ever seen. So she was—and I never cared a snap of my fingers for her. I only wanted you, and I saw to it that I got you. Lady Latimer went away as pleased as Punch with Lily Macintyre, and I had you.

“Now have you got that perfectly clear? You are Katherine Lestrange, and I took you when you were five years old, and sent your mother away with Lily Macintyre. Lady Latimer was pleased, and I was pleased, so where was the harm? You weren’t nearly as pretty as Lila, so she probably wouldn’t have liked you half so well. That closes that chapter.

“About six months later I heard from Harris again. Better not ask where he’d been or what he’d been doing. He sent me some money. Knox Macintyre was ill. There was a chance that he hadn’t made a will. I told Harris that I had still got the Macintyre child, that I had called her Kay Moore, and that she passed as my niece. Well, Knox Macintyre recovered. Harris lost interest again. And then all of a sudden he was more interested than ever, because he found there was a lot of money that was bound to come to the child from an aunt of Mrs Macintyre’s.

“I never knew the ins and outs of what had been going on between Harris and Knox Macintyre. I think he had tried to blackmail him, and I think he had found Knox Macintyre too hard a nut to crack. He was always very bitter about him. But this other money was a certainty. It was to come from an old Miss Basing who was out of her mind and shut up. She’d made a will years before, leaving her money to Mrs Macintyre and any children she might have. So there it was—she couldn’t alter the will, and as soon as she died Lila Macintyre would inherit the Basing millions. Well, at first I meant you to have them. If I’d been going to live, I’d have let you have them and fought Harris to keep you safe, but I shan’t be here to look after you, and you can’t fight him yourself. You’re safe as long as Miss Basing is alive, but the minute she’s dead and the will is proved, he’ll try and get hold of you. That’s why I’m writing this statement. You are not Mrs Macintyre’s child—you are Lady Latimer’s daughter, Katherine Lestrange. I’ve thought it all out, and you will be quite safe if you do what I tell you.

“You won’t read this until I am dead. I’m going to get the doctor to witness my signature. Take the statement to him and get him to read it. Then ask him to put it in the bank in his own name. After that you had better go and see Lady Latimer. I don’t want you to, but I don’t see any other way of keeping you safe. Her lawyer is Mr James Ellerslie, 75 Broad Street, Exeter. He will give you her address.

“Well, that’s all. Harris won’t want to meddle with you if you’re not Lila Macintyre. You’ll be safe, and Lady Latimer will be bound to provide for you. But she’ll never love you as I have. No one will.

“Rhoda Moore.”

Miles read the signature and looked up for the first time. How were they all taking it? If it had come as a smashing surprise to him and to Kay, what was it going to be to Freddy and Lila? Flossie knew her part of it already, but it wasn’t all jam for her hearing that Rhoda Moore, her own aunt, had come near to hating her. Why? There was some dark story there, and perhaps just as well that Rhoda had held her tongue about it.

He looked at Flossie first. She was flushed, and her eyes were unbelievably bright. She said in a voice which trembled with anger,

“If I’ve ever said things about Aunt I’m sorry for it—yes, that I am! That Moore woman—what call had she got to hate me? A shame, I call it! And the wickedness of her, with her Harrises, and changing other people’s babies right and left as if they were so many puppies and kittens! I never heard nothing like it, and don’t want to! And—and—” She choked and ran out of the room.

Her outburst had relieved the tension. Miles felt now that he could look at Lila. Freddy had his arm round her. She was sitting as if she hadn’t moved at all since he had begun to read. There was no colour in her face. Her eyes had a fixed, bewildered look. At the sound of the closing door she shivered a little and said,

“I don’t understand.”

Freddy said, “It doesn’t matter, darling. It won’t make any difference.”

Lila turned her head a little.

“You don’t mind?”

“Not a bit, darling. You’re still Lila.”

She nodded.

“I called myself Lila—Mummy always said I did—Aunt Rhoda said so too—I called her Aunt Rhoda. I remember—her—and Kay—I remember Kay.”

Kay came and knelt beside her and took her hand.

“Please, Lila, don’t mind—please.”

And all at once it came over Miles that they were all concerned with Lila—begging Lila not to mind having the Basing millions and goodness knows what else besides. It tickled him, and yet he could see that Lila was that sort of person. She would go through life with silken carpets under her feet and pearls to hang about her neck. Oh well, it was a lovely neck—

The door opened and Flossie came in with one hand held behind her back.

“Ooh, Mr. Miles,” she said, and when he went to meet her she dropped her voice to a whisper. “I come over so angry, I can’t be sure I’ve got it all right. It is Mrs Gilmore that’s the one you’ve been looking for—the Macintyre baby?”

Miles nodded.

Flossie gave a faint giggle.

“First it was me—and then it was your young lady—and now it’s Mrs Gilmore. Bit of a queer start, isn’t it?”

Miles nodded again.

“Well, Mr Miles, such being the case, those beads of mine what the old gentleman said was pearls—I suppose by rights they’re Mrs Gilmore’s?”

“I suppose they are.”

Flossie giggled again.

“Coo! It makes me laugh when I think how they’ve just kicked about in my drawer all these years—and me thinking nothing about them except for their having belonged to my mother! Well, seeing as they’re Mrs Gilmore’s, I’d sooner she had them—so here they are!” She pushed them into his hand and ran away.

Miles came back to the group by the fire.

Kay and Freddy were still fussing over Lila. And it was Kay who had been chloroformed and locked up in a cellar for hours, besides being nearly frightened to death. But Kay would go through the world looking after other people, while Lila would always be waited upon. He thought it was time that someone looked after Kay. His little Kay—his own darling little Kay—

He came up to the sofa and dropped the black pearls in Lila’s golden lap.