# The Black House in Harley Street/Chapter 8

CHAPTER VIII
THE VAN MILDART WAY
It was so plainly to be seen that Moira was in a state of considerable agitation that Goulburn took her by the arm and led her up the steps of his own house. She made some show of resistance.
"I'd rather not," she said. "I feel as if I couldn't get my breath within four walls. I'd rather keep out in the open air."
"No!" said Goulburn firmly. "You must come in and sit down for a while, or you'll be fainting."
"It would be for the first time, then!" she said, with a flash of her real spirit. "No—I won't faint."
"Come in, at any rate, for a while, then, and tell me all about it," said Goulburn. "You're very much upset, Moira."
"Yes," she replied, as she followed him across the hall and into the library, "I'll confess that I am. Somehow, I don't seem to have the nerve that I had, and I can't understand it."
"Take this chair," said Goulburn, drawing an easy-chair towards her. "I am going to get you some wine."
"No," she said. "I shouldn't drink it if you did. I'm better now. It was the sudden shock. You see, the poor ​man was alive and in his usual health last night. Don't you remember?"
"Of course I remember," replied Goulburn, who had already made up his mind not to tell her anything of Service's midnight visit—at any rate until he knew more of the circumstances. "I was astonished to hear you say that he was dead. What was it?"
"My—uncle," she answered, using the term of relationship with an obvious effort, and as if there were something repugnant to her in it, "says that it is a very plain case of heart failure, and two other doctors who were fetched in from close by agree with him. But that didn't make the shock any the less sudden, did it? I'm not afraid of death, and I'm certainly not squeamish, but I was terribly upset. I think it was the thought of seeing the poor man moving about amongst us last night, quite in his usual health to all appearances, and then——— Yes, it did disturb me. And, Richard,"—she used his name for the first time, and unconsciously laid her hand on his arm as if appealing for protection, "I felt somehow as if I couldn't breathe in that house, and I got on my hat and watched at the window for your coming—I wanted to get out. And, to tell you the truth, I've been feeling queer about living there for the last month—there's something uncanny about the place. At first I thought it might be with seeing all the sick people who came there; but I don't think it's that. I don't know what it is. It makes me feel as if I were somewhere where there's something—evil."
​Goulburn knelt down at her side, and putting his arm round her, drew her head on to his shoulder.
"You're overwrought, darling," he said. "But you're safe with me."
She turned her head a little and looked at him steadily, and her lips parted in a little sigh of content. And for the first time he bent and kissed her.
"Yes," she said quietly, "I can trust you, Richard."
Then, after a pause, she suddenly exclaimed—
"But oh, I want to get out of that house! I daren't sleep there to-night—I daren't even go back to lunch. I'm afraid."
"You shall neither go back to lunch nor sleep there," said Goulburn, striving to reassure her. "You are your own mistress."
"Yes," she said, "but Dr. van Mildart will think———"
"What does it matter what he thinks?" said Goulburn. "He has no control over you, has he? You see, dear, I know nothing of the facts—I don't even know," he continued, with a shy, half-boyish laugh, "I don't even know if you are twenty-one yet."
"Oh, but I am!" she said. "I was twenty-one just before I came back to London. Oh no, he has no control over me; but———"
"Well, what does that 'but' mean?"
"It means that he is one of those men who are accustomed to having their own way," she replied, "and he will be angry if I do not return."
"Let him be angry, then," said Goulburn. "Look ​here, Moira. I'm going to send Maisie to you while I speak to Chris Aspinall—they're in the billiard-room. Promise me to remain here with Maisie, because when I've talked to Chris I shall have something to say to you."
"Oh, yes, I will stay here," she said. "And really I'm feeling better now—only awfully sorry for that poor man."
Goulburn kissed her fondly, and then ran upstairs to the billiard-room, where Christopher, in his shirtsleeves and with a large pipe in his mouth, was giving lessons in the art of holding a cue to his sweetheart, who usually rewarded him by telling him that he was much too proficient at the game, and must have spent far more time and money in learning it than was good for him. They looked round in surprise at Goulburn's abrupt entrance.
"Maisie," said Goulburn, "there's Moira downstairs in the library. Go to her, will you, please? I want to talk to Chris for a minute."
Maisie laid down her cue and hurried away. Christopher brought off a beautiful red winner, and was lost in admiration of his own skill. He glanced round at Goulburn and saw him closing the door behind his sister, and that his face was very grave.
"Anything the matter, old chap?" he asked.
Goulburn came up to him and rested a hand on the billiard-table.
"I say, Chris," he said, "what do you think has happened?"
​"I don't know," answered Chris. "Something serious?"
"Service is dead!"
Christopher's pipe fell with a crash on the table; its ashes flew all over the green cloth.
"Service dead!" he exclaimed. "Dead? Nonsense, Dick!"
"He is!" said Goulburn. "They found him dead in bed this morning. Moira has just told me of it. Heart failure."
"Heart failure? Who says so? Van Mildart, I suppose?"
"Yes, and two other doctors, whom they fetched from close by," replied Goulburn. "But it's queer, isn't it, Chris?"
Christopher carefully dusted the ashes off the table and relighted the tobacco in his pipe.
"Queer?" he said. "Yes—I should think it is queer. Of course there'll be an inquest?"
"Oh, sure to be, I suppose," said Goulburn. "I believe that's the rule in these cases."
Then there was a silence, and both young men seemed to be thinking deeply.
"Look here, Dick," said Christopher at last, "are we going to hold our tongues about last night, or are we going to speak? How do we know there hasn't been foul play?"
"The inquest will prove that," said Goulburn."They're sure to have a post-mortem examination. Let's wait and see what is said then. If anything turns up ​that seems to indicate foul play, we can speak. It is certainly a strang thing that the poor fellow should die so suddenly just after warning us of possible danger, though, of course, not of that sort. It's frightened Moira dreadfully, Chris. And she doesn't want to go back to the house."
"If she were my future wife," said Christopher, with great emphasis and decision, "she would not go back to the house!"
Goulburn paced the room for a few moments.
"Look here, Chris," he said at last, coming back to where Christopher was once more practising fancy shots, "you remember what we were talking about last night after Service left us?"
"Not particularly," answered Christopher. "What was it?'
"About Moira's safety," said Goulburn, wondering that Christopher could have forgotten such an important matter. "And you suggested, you know, that she and I should be married at once. Have you forgotten?"
"Oh, yes, I remember now. And the best and wisest thing, too, old chap," said Christopher, "especially seeing that she isn't happy next door. Of course, everybody knows that you're awfully gone on each other—that was patent to any observant eye from the very first."
"Well, you said something about getting a special licence," said Goulburn. "How is it done? Can it be done quickly?"
​"So far as I know, from mere hearsay," replied Christopher, "it is quite a quick-shave business. I must admit, however, that my knowledge of the matter has not been derived from the most unimpeachable sources, but chiefly from bad novels, in which it has been necessary for such unions to take place at, metaphorically speaking, a moment's notice, because the heroine was about to be carried off by the villain, or the good young hero was about to expire and wished to know her his for but ten sweet seconds. Seriously, ask Conybeare. Or you might find something about it in Whitaker—you've one on your desk. Here, I'll fetch it."
And Christopher darted out of the billiard-room in his usual agile fashion, and within two minutes was back, with the Whitaker open and his finger pointing to a certain passage.
"Here you are, old chap," he said. "That's how and where you get them, and the cost's about thirty pounds, as you see. But if I were you I should see Conybeare—if he goes with you, you'll get it all the quicker. He'll know more about it than we can learn from that."
"Yes," answered Goulburn, running over the passage which Christopher had pointed out, "of course I shall consult Conybeare. Well, Chris, if I can persuade Moira to it, we'll be married at once. But———"
"Well?" said Christopher, as Goulburn paused.
"I'd always hoped that the four of us would be married at the same time," said Goulburn. "Look here, ​Chris, why not? It's only a question of getting two licences instead of one, and——— Why do you look so very sternly at me?"
"Because I am of stern stuff, my boy!" replied Christopher, shouldering his cue. "Now look here, Dick, don't begin tempting me. There's not the same reason why Maisie and I should marry in such haste that there is in your case. Moira seems to have nobody but you, whereas Maisie has got you and she's got more than you—she's got me! And again, I swore a solemn oath that I wouldn't marry Maisie until Christmas, when I shall have a junior partnership, and my name up,—Pepperall, Tardrew, & Aspinall, my boy,—and be a full-fledged City merchant, in tea; and I'm not going to break it. Maisie and I understand each other very well, Dick—we've got our own ideas and plans. You get married—and be happy."
So Goulburn left Christopher to his fancy strokes, and went down to the library, where Moira and Maisie were still in conversation on the subject of Service's sudden death. Maisie was shocked at the news, but not unduly so, and she scarcely understood Moira's evident horror of returning to the house next door. She was pressing her to remain with them when Goulburn came back.
"Leave that to Moira and me, Maisie," he said. "Run off to Chris—I'm going to arrange things with Moira."
When they were alone he plunged straight into the subject.
​"Moira, you have promised to marry me," he said.
She bowed her head without making any audible reply.
"Will you marry me at once?" he asked, watching her closely.
She looked at him attentively with candid eyes-the colour welled up in her cheeks.
"At once!" she repeated. "How could we? And why?"
"Because," he said, taking her hands and drawing her to him, "you are feeling very much in need of some one to protect you, and once I am your husband I shall have the right, which I haven't now. And as to how we could—well, all there is to do is to get a special licence. Conybeare will help me in that. If you agree, we can be married to-morrow, or, at any rate, the day after."
"To-morrow! The day after!" she exclaimed. "Oh, but———"
"You don't want to go back next door, Moira!" he said.
Her face lost its mounting colour and grew pale.
"No!" she answered. "No, I don't—and won't. I've decided while I was talking to Maisie that I shall send in a note next door telling my maid to pack my things and to meet me at Claridge's this afternoon. I'll go there for a while."
"Go there for to-night, and marry me to-morrow morning," he urged, with a determination which sur​prised himself. "As soon as we're married I'll take you away. We'll go to Norway."
She hesitated, keeping her face averted from him.
"Come, say you will, Moira," he said. "I want to feel that I've the right to protect you. And why should we wait? We've no doubt about our love for each other."
She suddenly turned and threw her arms round his neck.
"Very well," she said. Then after a moment's silence, she exclaimed, half-starting from his arms, "But oh! my uncle. What will he say?"
"What can he say?" said Goulburn. "After all, he has no hold upon you—you are of age and your own mistress. You're not frightened of him, are you, Moira?"
"No-o," she answered half-doubtfully—"at least, I don't know. You see, I know him so very little, and he is not the sort of man I had fancied he would be."
"How do you mean? Surely you had known him before you returned to London?" said Goulburn.
"No, I never had," she replied. "I had never seen him in my life. When we lived in England he was in America—South America, not the States—and when we went to the States he came over here. No, I had never seen him at all until two months ago."
"What is it in him that frightens you?" asked Goulburn. "He is a man of very pleasant and hospitable manners, and very good company."
Moira shook her head.
​"I don't know," she answered. "I don't know what it is. I've always felt crushed, repressed, stifled in that house."
Goulburn kissed her reassuringly.
"Never mind, dearest," he said. "That's all over. But, listen—now that we've decided exactly as to our plans, I want us to be perfectly straightforward about them. Come with me next door—don't be afraid—and I'll tell Dr. van Mildart everything, and explain that you have been so much upset by Service's sudden death that you feel you would rather go to Claridge's until to-morrow. Then you can give your maid instructions about meeting you at Claridge's, and I will take you to lunch somewhere before going to see about the special licence."
Moira showed no particular desire to see Dr. van Mildart, but she made no opposition to Goulburn's proposal, and together they went next door, to be admitted by Pimpery, whose countenance was as inscrutable and eyes as far off and dead as ever. The doctor was just then engaged, but he soon came to them in the library, active and bustling as ever.
"Ah, good morning, Goulburn," he said. "I suppose my niece has told you of poor Service's sudden death?—it has quite upset all of us this morning. Personally, I am not surprised—he had suffered from heart disease for some time. You do not look well, Moira," he continued, turning to his niece, who, now that he was within the house again, began to feel all her previous horror of it.
​"No," she answered, "I am not well."
"There is no doubt that you need a change of air," said Dr. van Mildart. "So do I, but I cannot get away just yet. I have been thinking of hiring a yacht and going for a good cruise in northern latitudes. What do you say, Goulburn? Shall we make a party?"
"To tell you the truth, sir," he said, half-turning to Moira and smiling at her, "your niece and I have made an arrangement which will rather prevent that. She has promised to marry me."
Dr. van Mildart nodded, and presumably looked at both of them through his impenetrable glasses.
"I am not at all surprised to hear it," he said. "In fact, I have been expecting such an announcement for the last two or three weeks. Well—I think you are admirably fitted for each other, and I wish you every happiness. But I don't see how the mere fact of your engagement should prevent us from forming a yachting party. You're not going to be married just yet, I suppose."
"The fact is, sir," replied Goulburn, "that we intend to be married at once, and to leave for some part of Northern Europe immediately. We are sure of each other—there is no reason why we should wait—and it is time, as you say, that Moira left town."
Dr. van Mildart stroked his beard.
"What do you mean by at once?" he asked.
"As soon as possible," replied Goulburn boldly. "As soon as I can procure a special licence: to-morrow, or next day, or the day after that."
​"Special licences," said the doctor, "are only granted where good reason is shown."
"I shall plead Moira's health," said Goulburn.
"Oh, I've no doubt you'll have no difficulty," said the doctor, in his airiest manner, "not the slightest. Well, I have nothing to say against it, though you both seem to be in a hurry. However, if you're sure of yourselves, nobody else has anything to do with it—you're free agents in a free country. You'll let me know when and where you're to be married, because I should naturally like to be present at the ceremony."
"Oh, of course!" answered Goulburn, who was much relieved at finding Dr. van Mildart so acquiescent. "You shall be fully informed."
The doctor pulled out his watch.
"I must go," he said. "I've another appointment at once. Well, I shall see you later in the day, Moira."
Moira summoned up all her courage.
"I—I don't think so," she said. "Please don't think me rude, but I have been so much upset by what occurred this morning that I don't think I could sleep in the house to-night. It was so—so sudden, you know, and I got frightened. If you don't mind, and won't think me ungrateful, I'll tell Cecile to pack my things and to meet me at Claridge's this afternoon. Just now, I'm going to lunch with Mr. Goulburn."
The doctor had been stroking his Vandyke beard during this speech, and his dark spectacles were fixed on his niece's face. He nodded his head once or twice as she spoke.
​"Oh, certainly, certainly, my dear, if you wish it!" he said. "I quite understand that Service's sudden death has upset you, and that it isn't very cheerful to be in the house just now, though really, as a matter of fact, the poor fellow's body was removed an hour ago. But do just what you please—make your own arrangements. Only let me be informed as to when and where the wedding will be."
Then he said good morning to them and hurried away to keep his appointment, and Moira went to find her maid and give her the necessary instructions.
"I'm glad that's over," she said, as she and Goulburn left the house. "Somehow, I didn't expect that he would be so amenable. And yet I am, after all, my own mistress."
"Of course," said Goulburn. "What could he do, however much he objected?"
After they had lunched together at the Berkeley, they went on to see Mr. Conybeare, who received the news of their engagement with a cordiality bordering upon enthusiasm, but became somewhat grave when he heard of the proposed hasty marriage.
"Of course it can be managed," he said. "I will go with you to Doctor's Commons, and get the matter through for you. But you are very foolish young people, you know. I am bound to tell you that."
"I am afraid we don't quite see that we are," said Goulburn, smiling. "We believe we are doing the wisest thing possible to us."
"No doubt, no doubt!" replied the solicitor. "But you ​seem to forget that when two very rich young people like you marry there should be all sorts of things done—settlements, and so on. Just look what wealth is locked up in the two of you!"
"But does that matter?" asked Moira. "It is ours."
"My dear young lady, it is yours, certainly, but you must be business-like in your dealings with it," said Mr. Conybeare. "I have been wanting to see both of you lately with respect to business matters, but I suppose you were so occupied with each other that you had no time for me. Now, do you know that between you you have nearly a million of money lying at call at the Bank of England? There is half a million of yours, Miss Phillimore, and just over four hundred thousand of yours, Mr. Goulburn. Now, you know, all that money ought to be invested."
"But it's all right where it is, isn't it?" said Moira.
"My dear lady, it's as right—as right as the Bank itself," laughed Mr. Conybeare. "But it was not meant to lie there at bank rates—it should be invested in the very best securities obtainable."
"Mr. Conybeare is quite right, Moira," said Goulburn. "We'll go into all that, Mr. Conybeare, when we return from our wedding-trip."
"Ah, to be sure!" said the solicitor. "Pleasure before business with all you young people. Now, you'd much better have put off your marriage until next spring, and given us poor lawyers the intervening months in which to put everything straight for you. Well!—now for this special licence. I'm sure you'll ​make a very good-looking couple, and I should like to see you married."
That night Goulburn called on Dr. van Mildart, and told him that all the necessary formalities would be complied with early next day, and that the marriage was to be solemnised at a certain church in Mayfair at noon. The doctor promised to be there; he had to attend the inquest on Service at one o'clock, he said, and should therefore have to hurry away, but he would be certain to be present.
"They held the post-mortem on Service this afternoon," he said. "Of course, it was just heart failure. I knew that he had suffered from heart disease for some time. Not an uncommon case?—oh, dear me, no!—much more common than is generally supposed. Yet he seemed to be quite well on the previous evening. But a little over-exertion—more than anything, a little unusual excitement—and the machine stops running."
When Goulburn had left the house, Dr. van Mildart went to his private telephone and rang up a West End club. It was some minutes before he got into communication with the man he wanted. When he did, the message which he sent over the wire to him was short and sharp—
"All right—have everything in readiness at seven o'clock to-morrow morning."