The Yellow Holly. Hume Fergus
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looked annoyed. "Trust me-"
"All in all, or not at all," finished Brendon; "quite so." He paused and drew hard at his pipe. "Since I want money I must trust you."
"Is it only for that reason that you consider me worthy of your confidence?" asked Leonard, much mortified.
George leaned forward and patted him on the knee. "No, old man. I wish you to help me also."
"In what way?"
"With Dorothy Ward," replied George, looking closely at his pipe.
"Was she in your mind to-night when that old maid was telling the cards?" asked Train, sitting up with a look of interest.
Brendon nodded. "But I do not wish you to mention her name. That was why-"
"I know. I was foolish. Well, she's a pretty girl, and as good as she is pretty."
"Which is marvelous," said Brendon, "considering the fashionable mother she has."
Train smiled. "Mrs. Ward is certainly a leader of fashion."
"And as heartless as any woman I know," observed Brendon. He glanced affectionately at the yellow holly. "Dorothy gave me this to-night."
"Did you see her before you came here?"
"Yes. I went to afternoon tea. We-" Brendon examined his pipe again-"we understand one another," he said.
Leonard sprang to his feet. "My dear chap, I congratulate you."
"Thanks! but it's too early for congratulation as yet. Mrs. Ward wants her daughter to make a good marriage. George Brendon will not be the husband of her choice, but Lord Derrington!"
"Does she want her daughter to marry that old thing?"
"You don't understand, Leonard. I mean that if I become Lord Derrington when the old man dies Mrs. Ward will consent."
Train sat down helplessly and stared. "I don't understand," he said.
"I'll put the thing in a nutshell," explained Brendon. "Lord Derrington is my grandfather."
"Your-but he never lived here?"
"No. The grandfather who lived here, and with whom I stayed, was my mother's father. He was called Lockwood. Derrington is my father's father. Now do you understand?"
"Not quite! How can you become Lord Derrington when he has a grandson-that young rip Walter Vane!"
"Walter Vane is the son of my father's brother, and my father was the elder and the heir to the title."
"Then, if Lord Derrington dies you become-"
"Exactly. But the difficulty is that I have to establish my birth."
Leonard jumped up and clutched his hair. "Here's a mystery," he said, staring at his friend. "What does it all mean?"
"Sit down and I'll tell you!"
Leonard resumed his seat and glanced at the clock. "We have a quarter of an hour," he said, "but I think we'll defy Mrs. Jersey and sit up this night."
"No," said Brendon, hastily; "we may as well do what she wants. I wish to conciliate her. She is the only person who can help to prove my mother's marriage."
"Humph! I thought there was something queer about her. Who was she?"
"My mother's maid! But I had better tell you from the beginning."
Train sat down and produced a cigarette. "Go on," he said; "no, wait! I want to know before you begin why Mrs. Jersey was so struck with that yellow holly?"
This time it was Brendon who looked puzzled. "I can't say, Leonard."
"Do you think she connected it with some disaster?" asked Train.
"From her looks, when she set eyes on it, I should think so!"
"Does Miss Ward know Mrs. Jersey?"
"No. She knows nothing about her."
"And it was Miss Ward who gave you the yellow holly?"
"Yes. When I was at afternoon tea."
"Then I can't see why Mrs. Jersey should have made such a spectacle of herself," said Leonard, lighting his cigarette. "Tell your story."
"I'll do so as concisely as possible," said Brendon, staring into the fire. "My mother was the daughter of Anthony Lockwood, who was a teacher of singing, and lived here. She-I am talking of my mother-was very beautiful, and also became famous as a singer at concerts. The son of Lord Derrington, Percy Vane, saw her and loved her. He subsequently eloped with her. She died in Paris two years later, shortly after I was born."
"And you came to live here?"
"Not immediately. I was but an infant in arms, but my father would not part with me. He kept Mrs. Jersey-she was my mother's maid, remember-as my nurse, and we went to Monte Carlo. I am afraid my poor father was a bit of a scamp. He was at all events a gambler, and lost all his money at the tables. He became poor, and his father, Lord Derrington, refused to help him."
"He was angry at the marriage, I suppose?"
"That's the point. Was there a marriage? But to make things clear I had better go on as I started. My father went to San Remo, and from that place he sent me home to my grandfather Lockwood."
"With Mrs. Jersey?"
"No. By that time Mrs. Jersey had left; I had another nurse, and it was she who took me to this house. My grandfather was delighted to have me, as he always insisted that there was a marriage. I grew up here, and went to school, afterward to college. My grandfather died, but there was just enough money to finish my education. The house was sold, and by a curious coincidence Mrs. Jersey took it as a boarding establishment. Where she got the money I don't know. But I passed out of her life as a mere infant, and I don't suppose she thought anything more about me. Perhaps she recognized me to-night from my likeness to my father, as she mentioned that she had seen my face before. But I can't say."
"What became of your father?"
"That is the tragic part of the story. He was murdered at a masked ball at San Remo. The assassin was never discovered, but it was supposed to be some passionate Italian lover. My grandfather Lockwood was so angry at the way in which his daughter had been treated that he never stood up for my rights. I would not do so, either, but that I love Miss Ward. Now, it is my intention to see Mrs. Jersey to-morrow and get the truth out of her."
"What does she know?"
"She knows where the marriage was celebrated, and can prove that my birth is legitimate. That is why I came here, Leonard."
"Why did you not speak to her to-night?"
"I think it is better she should be in a quieter frame of mind," said Brendon. "She has never seen me since I was a small child, and my name of Brendon is quite unknown to her."
"Why do you call yourself Brendon?" asked Train.
George began to pace up and down the room. "Pride made me do that," he declared. "When my father was murdered at San Remo, Lord Derrington denied the marriage, and refused to do anything for me. My grandfather Lockwood gave me his own name, and I was called George Lockwood for many a long day. At the age of fifteen Mr. Lockwood died, and then a note came to my guardian saying that Lord Derrington proposed to allow me a small income."
"For what reason?"
"I can't say. Perhaps it was remorse."
Train shook his head. "I have met Lord Derrington, and if such an old Tartar feels remorse, then there is a chance that pigs may fly."
"That's an elegant illustration, Leonard," observed George, with a smile; "but to continue (as I see it is nearly eleven), even as a boy I felt the indignity put upon me. I refused, with the permission of my guardian, the offered sum, and continued at school. When I left to go to college I changed my name so that Lord Derrington should not have the chance of insulting me further or of knowing who I was. My guardian suggested Brendon, so as that was as good a name as another I took it. Hence Mrs. Jersey can't possibly know me, or why I came to see her. She will be wiser in the morning," added Brendon grimly.
"But