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 7 Steps to Success

1 Read text.

2 Review.

3 See if you understand the big picture.

4 See if you understand the key terms.

5 Use web tutorials to be sure that

you understand the key concepts.

6 Test your understanding using the

web quizzes.

7 AGE: Apply, Generalize, and Explore.

vi BRIEF CONTENTS

12 Expanding the Experiment: Factorial Designs 454

13 Matched Pairs, Within-Subjects, and Mixed
Designs 518
14 Single-n Designs and Quasi-Experiments 564
15 Putting It All Together: Writing Research Proposals
and Reports 605

APPENDIX A Research Report and Proposal Checklist 637

APPENDIX B Sample APA-Style Paper 651
APPENDIX C A Checklist for Evaluating a Study’s Validity 665
APPENDIX D Practical Tips for Conducting an Ethical and Valid Study 675
APPENDIX E Introduction to Statistics 677
APPENDIX F Statistics and Random Numbers Tables 679

GLOSSARY 695
REFERENCES 705
INDEX 717
 CONTENTS

P REF AC E xix
A BOUT THE AUTHOR S xxiii

1 Science, Psychology, and You 1

Chapter Overview 2
Why Psychology Uses the Scientific Approach 3
Science’s Characteristics 3
Psychology’s Characteristics 13
The Importance of Science to Psychology: The Scientific Method
Compared to Other Ways of Knowing 20
Why You Should Understand Research Design 25
To Understand Psychology 26
To Read Research 26
To Evaluate Research 27
To Protect Yourself From “Quacks” 28
To Be a Better Psychologist 28
To Be a Better Thinker 29
To Be Scientifically Literate 29
To Increase Your Marketability 30
To Do Your Own Research 31
Concluding Remarks 31
Summary 33
Key Terms 34
Exercises 35
Web Resources 36

vii
viii CONTENTS

2 Validity and Ethics: Can We Know, Should We Know,

and Can We Afford Not to Know? 37
Chapter Overview 38
Questions About Applying Techniques From Older Sciences
to Psychology 39
Internal Validity Questions: Did the Treatment Cause a Change
in Behavior? 41
Construct Validity Questions: Are the Variable Names Accurate? 49
External Validity Questions: Can the Results Be Generalized? 54
Ethical Questions: Should the Study Be Conducted? 56
Concluding Remarks 65
Summary 65
Key Terms 68
Exercises 68
Web Resources 69

3 Generating and Refining Research Hypotheses 70

Chapter Overview 71
Generating Research Ideas From Common Sense 72
Generating Research Ideas From Previous Research 74
Specific Strategies 75
Conclusions About Generating Research Ideas From Previous
Research 79
Converting an Idea Into a Research Hypothesis 80
Make It Testable: Have Specific Predictions About Observable Events 81
Make It Supportable: Predict Differences Rather Than No Differences 81
Be Sure to Have a Rationale: How Theory Can Help 82
Demonstrate Its Relevance: Theory Versus Trivia 82
Refine It: 10 Time-Tested Tips 84
Make Sure That Testing the Hypothesis Is Both Practical and Ethical 104
Changing Unethical And Impractical Ideas Into
Research Hypotheses 104
Make Variables More General 104
Use Smaller Scale Models of the Situation 105
Carefully Screen Potential Participants 106
Use “Moderate” Manipulations 106
As a Last Resort, Do Not Manipulate Variables 107
Concluding Remarks 107
Summary 107
Key Terms 109
Exercises 109
Web Resources 110
 CONTENTS ix

4 Reading, Reviewing, and Replicating Research 111

Chapter Overview 112
Reading for Understanding 112
Choosing an Article: Browse Wisely and Widely 113
Reading the Abstract 113
Reading the Introduction 114
Reading the Method Section 119
Reading the Results Section 121
Reading the Discussion 126
Developing Research Ideas From Existing Research 127
The Direct (Exact) Replication: Making Sure That Results
Are Reliable 128
Systematic Replications: Minor Tweaks to Improve the Study 131
Conceptual Replications: Major Changes to Boost Construct
Validity 137
The Value of Replications 138
Extending Research 139
Concluding Remarks 140
Summary 140
Key Terms 141
Exercises 141
Web Resources 142

5 Measuring and Manipulating Variables: Reliability

and Validity 143
Chapter Overview 144
Choosing a Behavior to Measure 145
Errors in Measuring Behavior 146
Overview of Two Types of Measurement Errors: Systematic Bias
and Random Error 147
Errors Due to the Observer: Bias and Random Error 150
Errors in Administering the Measure: Bias and Random Error 154
Errors Due to the Participant: Bias and Random Error 155
Summary of the Three Sources and Two Types of Measurement
Error 160
Reliability: The (Relative) Absence of Random Error 161
The Importance of Being Reliable: Reliability as a Prerequisite
to Validity 161
Using Test–Retest Reliability to Assess Overall Reliability: To What Degree
Is a Measure “Random Error Free”? 162
Identifying (and Then Dealing With) the Main Source of a Measure’s
Reliability Problems 165
Conclusions About Reliability 173
x CONTENTS

Beyond Reliability: Establishing Construct Validity 176

Content Validity: Does Your Test Have the Right Stuff? 176
Internal Consistency Revisited: Evidence That You Are Measuring
One Characteristic 176
Convergent Validation Strategies: Statistical Evidence That You Are
Measuring the Right Construct 179
Discriminant Validation Strategies: Showing That You Are Not Measuring
the Wrong Construct 180
Summary of Construct Validity 183
Manipulating Variables 185
Common Threats to a Manipulation’s Validity 185
Pros and Cons of Three Common Types of Manipulations 188
Conclusions About Manipulating Variables 190
Concluding Remarks 191
Summary 191
Key Terms 192
Exercises 192
Web Resources 193

6 Beyond Reliability and Validity: The Best Measure

for Your Study 194
Chapter Overview 195
Sensitivity: Will the Measure Be Able to Detect the Small Differences
You May Need to Detect? 197
Achieving the Necessary Level of Sensitivity: Three Tips 197
Conclusions About Sensitivity 205
Scales of Measurement: Will the Measure Allow You to Make the
Kinds of Comparisons You Need to Make? 206
The Four Different Scales (Levels) of Measurement 206
Why Our Numbers Do Not Always Measure Up 212
Which Level of Measurement Do You Need? 213
Conclusions About Scales of Measurement 219
Ethical and Practical Considerations 220
Concluding Remarks 220
Summary 221
Key Terms 221
Exercises 222
Web Resources 222
 CONTENTS xi

7 Introduction to Descriptive Methods and

Correlational Research 223
Chapter Overview 224
Uses and Limitations of Descriptive Methods 225
Descriptive Research and Causality 225
Description for Description’s Sake 228
Description for Prediction’s Sake 228
Why We Need Science to Describe Behavior 229
We Need Scientific Measurement 230
We Need Systematic, Scientific Record-Keeping 230
We Need Objective Ways to Determine Whether
Variables Are Related 230
We Need Scientific Methods to Generalize From Experience 231
Conclusions About Why We Need Descriptive Research 232
Sources of Data 232
Ex Post Facto Data: Data You Previously Collected 232
Archival Data 234
Observation 240
Tests 243
Analyzing Data From Descriptive Studies: Looking at Individual
Variables 245
Analyzing Data From Descriptive Studies: Looking at Relationships
Between Variables 250
Comparing Two Means 250
Correlation Coefficients 256
The Coefficient of Determination 260
Determining Whether a Correlation Coefficient Is Statistically
Significant 261
Interpreting Significant Correlation Coefficients 263
Interpreting Null (Nonsignificant) Correlation Coefficients 266
Nonlinear Relationships Between Two Variables 267
Relationships Involving More Than Two Variables 270
Concluding Remarks 272
Summary 272
Key Terms 273
Exercises 273
Web Resources 274

8 Survey Research 275

Chapter Overview 276
Questions to Ask Before Doing Survey Research 277
What Is Your Hypothesis? 277
Can Self-Report Provide Accurate Answers? 283
xii CONTENTS

To Whom Will Your Results Apply? 285

Conclusions About the Advantages and Disadvantages of Survey
Research 286
The Advantages and Disadvantages of Different Survey
Instruments 286
Written Instruments 286
Interviews 290
Planning a Survey 296
Deciding on a Research Question 296
Choosing the Format of Your Questions 297
Choosing the Format of Your Survey 301
Editing Questions: Nine Mistakes to Avoid 303
Sequencing Questions 305
Putting the Final Touches on Your Survey Instrument 308
Choosing a Sampling Strategy 308
Administering the Survey 315
Analyzing Survey Data 316
Summarizing Data 316
Using Inferential Statistics 320
Concluding Remarks 327
Summary 327
Key Terms 328
Exercises 328
Web Resources 329

9 Internal Validity 330

Chapter Overview 331
Problems with Two-Group Designs 335
Why We Never Have Identical Groups 335
Conclusions About Two-Group Designs: Selection Is Not Easily
Overcome 346
Problems with the Pretest–Posttest (Before–After) Design 348
Three Reasons Participants May Change Between Pretest and
Posttest 348
Three Measurement Changes That May Cause Scores—But Not
Participants—to Change Between Pretest and Posttest 351
Conclusions About Trying to Keep Everything Except
the Treatment Constant 354
Ruling Out Extraneous Variables 356
Accounting for Extraneous Variables 356
Identifying Extraneous Variables 357
The Relationship Between Internal and External Validity 357
Concluding Remarks 359
 CONTENTS xiii

Summary 359
Key Terms 360
Exercises 360
Web Resources 361

10 The Simple Experiment 362

Chapter Overview 363
Logic and Terminology 363
Experimental Hypothesis: The Treatment Has an Effect 366
Null Hypothesis: The Treatment Does Not Have an Effect 369
Conclusions About Experimental and Null Hypotheses 370
Manipulating the Independent Variable 370
Experimental and Control Groups: Similar, but Treated Differently 371
The Value of Independence: Why Control and Experimental Groups
Shouldn’t Be Called “Groups” 372
The Value of Assignment (Manipulating the Treatment) 375
Collecting the Dependent Variable 376
The Statistical Significance Decision: Deciding Whether to Declare That
a Difference Is Not a Coincidence 377
Statistically Significant Results: Declaring That the Treatment
Has an Effect 377
Null Results: Why We Can’t Draw Conclusions From Nonsignificant
Results 379
Summary of the “Ideal” Simple Experiment 381
Errors in Determining Whether Results are Statistically
Significant 381
Type 1 Errors: “Crying Wolf” 381
Type 2 Errors: “Failing to Announce the Wolf” 383
The Need to Prevent Type 2 Errors: Why You Want the Power to Find
Significant Differences 384
Statistics and the Design of the Simple Experiment 384
Power and the Design of the Simple Experiment 385
Conclusions About How Statistical Considerations Impact Design
Decisions 388
Nonstatistical Considerations and the Design of the Simple
Experiment 389
External Validity Versus Power 389
Construct Validity Versus Power 389
Ethics Versus Power 391
Analyzing Data From the Simple Experiment: Basic Logic 392
Estimating What You Want to Know: You Have Sample Means
But You Want to Know the Population Means 393
Why We Must Do More Than Subtract the Means From Each Other 394
How Random Error Affects Data From the Simple Experiment 394
xiv CONTENTS

When Is a Difference Between Means Too Big to Be Due to

Random Error? 397
Analyzing the Results of the Simple Experiment: The t Test 400
Making Sense of the Results of a t Test 401
Assumptions of the t Test 406
Questions Raised by Results 408
Questions Raised by Nonsignificant Results 409
Questions Raised by Significant Results 409
Concluding Remarks 409
Summary 410
Key Terms 412
Exercises 412
Web Resources 414

11 Expanding the Simple Experiment: The Multiple-Group

Experiment 415
Chapter Overview 416
The Advantages of Using More Than Two Values of an Independent
Variable 416
Comparing More Than Two Kinds of Treatments 416
Comparing Two Kinds of Treatments With No Treatment 418
Comparing More Than Two Amounts of an Independent Variable
to Increase External Validity 419
Using Multiple Groups to Improve Construct Validity 426
Analyzing Data From Multiple-Group Experiments 432
Analyzing Results From the Multiple-Group Experiment: An Intuitive
Overview 433
Analyzing Results From the Multiple-Group Experiment: A Closer
Look 435
Concluding Remarks 449
Summary 450
Key Terms 451
Exercises 451
Web Resources 453

12 Expanding the Experiment: Factorial Designs 454

Chapter Overview 455
Types of Factorial Experiments 458
The 2 × 2 Factorial Experiment: Using Graphs to See the Three
Patterns It Can Detect 459
 CONTENTS xv

The 2 × 2 Factorial Experiment: Using Tables to See the Three Patterns

It Can Detect 467
Each Column and Each Row of the 2 × 2 Factorial Is Like a Simple
Experiment 468
Why You Want to Look for Interactions: The Importance of
Moderating Variables 474
Examples of Questions You Can Answer Using the 2 × 2 Factorial
Experiment 481
Potential Results of a 2 × 2 Factorial Experiment 484
General Approach for Deciphering a 2 × 2’s Table of Means 484
One Main Effect and No Interaction 485
Two Main Effects and No Interaction 491
Two Main Effects and an Interaction 493
An Interaction and No Main Effects 496
An Interaction and One Main Effect 498
No Main Effects and No Interaction 500
Analyzing Results From a Factorial Experiment 501
What Degrees of Freedom Tell You 501
What F and p Values Tell You 502
What Main Effects Tell You: On the Average, the Factor Had
an Effect 502
What Interactions Usually Tell You: Combining Factors Leads to Effects
That Differ From the Sum of the Individual Main Effects 503
Putting the 2 × 2 Factorial Experiment to Work 504
Looking at the Combined Effects of Variables That Are Combined
in Real Life 504
Ruling Out Demand Characteristics 504
Adding a Replication Factor to Increase Generalizability 505
Using an Interaction to Find an Exception to the Rule: Looking at a
Potential Moderating Factor 506
Using Interactions to Create New Rules 507
Conclusions About Putting the 2 × 2 Factorial Experiment to Work 508
Hybrid Designs: Factorial Designs that Allow You to Study
Nonexperimental Variables 508
Hybrid Designs’ Key Limitation: They Do Not Allow Cause–Effect
Statements Regarding the Nonexperimental Factor 508
Reasons to Use Hybrid Designs 510
Concluding Remarks 513
Summary 514
Key Terms 515
Exercises 516
Web Resources 517
xvi CONTENTS

13 Matched Pairs, Within-Subjects, and Mixed Designs 518

Chapter Overview 519
The Matched-Pairs Design 522
Procedure 522
Considerations in Using Matched-Pairs Designs 522
Analysis of Data: Use a Within-Subjects, Rather Than a Between-Subjects,
t Test 527
Conclusions About the Matched-Pairs Design 528
Within-Subjects (Repeated Measures) Designs 531
Considerations in Using Within-Subjects Designs 531
Four Sources of Order Effects 534
Dealing With Order Effects 536
Randomized Within-Subjects Designs 538
Procedure 539
Analysis of Data 540
Conclusions About Randomized Within-Subjects Designs 540
Using Counterbalancing in Within-Subjects Designs 541
Procedure 545
Advantages and Disadvantages of Counterbalancing 545
Conclusions About Counterbalanced Within-Subjects Designs 551
Choosing the Right Design 552
Choosing a Design When You Have One Independent Variable 552
Choosing a Design When You Have More Than One Independent
Variable 553
Concluding Remarks 559
Summary 560
Key Terms 561
Exercises 562
Web Resources 563

14 Single-n Designs and Quasi-Experiments 564

Chapter Overview 565
Inferring Causality in Randomized Experiments 565
Establishing Covariation: Finding a Relationship Between Changes in the
Suspected Cause and Changes in the Outcome Measure 565
Establishing Temporal Precedence: Showing That Changes in the Suspected
Cause Come Before Changes in the Outcome Measure 566
Battling Spuriousness: Showing That Changes in the Outcome Measure
Are Not Due to Something Other Than the Suspected Cause 566
Single-n Designs 568
Battling Spuriousness by Keeping Nontreatment Factors Constant:
The A–B Design 569
Variations on the A–B Design 575
 CONTENTS xvii

Evaluation of Single-n Designs 579

Conclusions About Single-n Designs 582
Quasi-Experiments 583
Battling Spuriousness by Accounting for—Rather Than Controlling—
Nontreatment Factors 584
Time-Series Designs 590
The Nonequivalent Control-Group Design 597
Conclusions About Quasi-Experimental Designs 601
Concluding Remarks 602
Summary 602
Key Terms 603
Exercises 603
Web Resources 604

15 Putting It All Together: Writing Research Proposals

and Reports 605
Chapter Overview 606
Aids to Developing Your Idea 606
The Research Journal 606
The Research Proposal 607
Writing the Research Proposal 608
General Strategies for Writing the Introduction 608
Specific Strategies for Writing Introduction Sections for Different Types
of Studies 613
Writing the Method Section 620
Refining Your Method Section 624
Writing the Results Section 625
Writing the Discussion Section 626
Putting on the Front and Back 627
Writing the Research Report 629
What Stays the Same or Changes Very Little 629
Writing the Results Section 630
Writing the Discussion Section 634
Concluding Remarks 635
Summary 635
Key Terms 636
Web Resources 636

APPENDIX A Research Report and Proposal Checklist 637

APPENDIX B Sample APA-Style Paper 651
APPENDIX C A Checklist for Evaluating a Study’s Validity 665
xviii CONTENTS

APPENDIX D Practical Tips for Conducting an Ethical and Valid Study 675
APPENDIX E Introduction to Statistics 677
APPENDIX F Statistics and Random Numbers Tables 679

GLOSSARY 695
REFERENCES 705
INDEX 717
 PREFACE

This book focuses on two goals: (1) helping students evaluate the internal,
external, and construct validity of studies and (2) helping students write a
good research proposal. To accomplish these goals, we use the following
methods:
● We use numerous, clear examples—especially for concepts with which
students have trouble, such as statistical significance and interactions.
● We focus on important, fundamental concepts; show students why those
concepts are important; relate those concepts to what students already
know; and directly address common misunderstandings about those
concepts.
● We explain the logic behind research design so that students know
more than just terminology—they learn how to think like research
psychologists.
● We explain statistical concepts (not computations) because (a) students
seem to have amnesia for what they learned in statistics class, (b) some
understanding of statistics is necessary to understand journal articles, and
(c) statistical issues need to be considered before doing research.

FLEXIBLE ORGANIZATION
We know that most professors share our goals of teaching students to be able
to read, evaluate, defend, and produce scientific research. We also know that
professors differ in how they go about achieving these goals and in the
emphasis they place on each of these goals. For example, although about
half of all professors of research methods believe that the best way to help
students understand design is to cover nonexperimental methods first, about
half believe that students must understand experimental methods first. To
accommodate professor differences, we have made the chapters relatively
self-contained modules. Because each chapter focuses on ethics, construct
validity, external validity, and internal validity, it is easy to skip chapters or

xix
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
 Janet did not answer, but shut herself in her room and, unlocking
a drawer, took out of it a little jewelled trinket which young
Gascoyne had given her, and kissing it passionately, burst into a
flood of tears. The poor girl vaguely realised, if she refused to
confess as much to herself, that her romance was doomed to a
dismal ending. Though she loved Harry Gascoyne she had some dim
perception that the glitter of his charm was largely pinchbeck. She
also realised with true feminine instinct that she had thrown away
the only weapon with which she might have won her battle, and
induced him to raise her to his position by marriage. She was
already terrified of what might happen, and lay awake at nights
possessed by the fear of an approaching presence. She was haunted
by the singing of the wind in the pine-wood where they had first
kissed, and stronger and stronger through the sad, sweet music
came the wailing of an infant.
Young Gascoyne was almost as frightened as she at what he had
done, and his true character asserted itself. He positively throbbed
with selfishness. He poured out his woes to me at length. He would
begin with some stereotyped recognition of the girl’s position,
thrown in for the sake of mere decency, but after that it was all
about the awkwardness of the affair as it would affect himself.
“I’m not a coward, old chap, and I don’t mind a good stand-up
fight. I can take a licking as well as any other man, and bear no
grudge.”
This I doubted, and set it down as merely the boastful jargon
learnt at a public school.
“But I don’t quite see having to fight the whole lot of them.”
“They look awkward customers.”
“Why, have you seen them?”
I had made a slip. I had not informed him of my visit to Copsley.
“I was passing through on my bicycle, and I just thought I would
have a look in at the blacksmith’s shop.”
“My sister will never forgive me. You see, Janet is old nurse’s
niece. By Jove, it is a muddle.”
He spoke as if the whole affair were not of his doing and as if he
were the victim of a conspiracy.
 It was the occasion of my spending a week-end at the Grange.
He discussed many ways of solving the difficulty.
“I shall take her away. There’s nothing else to be done.”
“You will be followed.”
“Not if we go abroad. That’ll be the thing. Edith will come round
in time. I shouldn’t wonder, once Janet were away from that
common lot, if she didn’t improve till one wouldn’t mind taking her
anywhere.”
I was surprised to find that he was in earnest about eloping, but
his was not a nature to look very far ahead, and he talked of being
able to get along at some quiet foreign town as if he were not the
sort of person in whom such an existence would bring out all the
worst qualities. At any rate, I was determined to run no risks. I had
made too many inquiries about Nat Holway not to be able to predict
with some certainty what he would do if he discovered the truth.
I posted an anonymous letter from the next village to Copsley
written in an illiterate scrawl. It informed him of Janet’s stolen
meetings, and hinted the worst.
 Chapter X
I had by this time informed Mr. Gascoyne of my acquaintance
with his nephew and niece. At first he looked hurt.
“They are very heartless, I am afraid, Israel, very heartless;
when my poor boy died neither of them wrote a line.”
“I am afraid, sir, that young Gascoyne has not much depth, but
his sister seems to me a fine character.”
“What is she like?”
“Beautiful.”
Perhaps something in my voice betrayed what I felt, for he
looked at me keenly.
“She is a little cold. Difficult, I should say, to rouse to
enthusiasm, and she appears to have a will of iron.”
“She hardly sounds alluring.”
“She has charm.”
“Ah! Then everything else falls into line. I should like to see
them, but I can hardly make the advances. You see, my poor
brother chose to quarrel with me for two reasons; first, because I
went on the Stock Exchange; secondly, because my wife’s father
happened to have made his money in trade. It was all very foolish,
but year after year reconciliation grew more difficult, and what had
been a breach which I thought could easily be bridged any moment
widened imperceptibly, until it was impossible to make advances. If
Miss Gascoyne would write to my wife the thing would be done.”
Inwardly I thought it would have been just as easy for Mrs.
Gascoyne to write to her.
“What is Harry like? His father was good-looking.”
“He is handsome enough.”
“Fair?”
“Very.”
 “So was his father. Dear me, it seems only the other day that we
were boys together. It is all very sad, very sad indeed. It is incredible
that people should drift apart so.”
“I’ve never had anyone to drift apart from.”
“You have your friends. There is young Hallward. He seems to be
very devoted to you, and, do you know, I have sometimes wondered
whether you appreciate his devotion.”
“Oh, I’m very fond of Grahame.”
“We must see if something can’t be done to bring my nephew
and niece and my wife together. You say you are going down there
this week?”
“I thought of doing so.”
“Then you might spy out the land and see how my niece would
be likely to receive advances.”
“I think Miss Gascoyne would welcome them,” I said, with
simulated warmth.
I now felt not the least hesitation in praising the young
Gascoynes. I had complete confidence in my position with their
uncle. He was not the sort of man to commit an injustice, and what
he had made up his mind to do for me he would do; perhaps more,
certainly not less.
It may perhaps be wondered why, having a comfortable position
and fairly assured prospects, I did not rest content. That I did not do
so was due to a consistency of aim which has always been my chief
characteristic. In removing young Gascoyne from my path I had
burnt my boats, and there did not appear to be any particular
reason, except that of cowardice, to prevent my pursuing my original
purpose. A middle-class position with moderate wealth in no way
represented my ideal. I had dreamed from early childhood of a
brilliant position, and if possible I intended to achieve one.
I found also that I was a person of a multiplying ambition. I had
begun to meet certain people in a very good set. My musical
accomplishments here stood me in very good stead—as they have
done many another idle young adventurer. Lady Pebworth, who was
an amateur vocalist who would not have been tolerated at a tenth-
rate pier pavilion without her title, was singing at a charity concert at
which I was assisting. Her accompanist failing her, I took his place.
She declared that no one had ever accompanied her so
sympathetically, and asked me to call. I was not of the order of
modern youth who gives some great lady the use of his inferior
baritone voice and other services in return for social protection, but
Lady Pebworth had the tact to treat me with dignity, and I found her
extremely useful. I paid my respects one Sunday afternoon. The
drawing-room of her house in Bryanston Square was crowded, and I
at once realised that I was in the society of people of quite a
different tone from anything I had hitherto come into contact with.
Fortunately her invitation had not been merely formal. She had
evidently been anxious to see me, for she welcomed me with a swift
glance of pleasure and came from the extreme end of the long room
to meet me.
“How good of you to come so soon!”
“It was good of you to ask me.”
Then she introduced me to a pretty, dark-eyed woman, whose
beauty was just giving signs of approaching wane.
“Mrs. Hetherington, Mr. Rank.” And she left us.
Mrs. Hetherington talked incessantly, but I replied in
monosyllables. I realised that Lady Pebworth was interested, and my
vanity was flattered that a woman, so evidently admired and courted
in a first-rate set, should be attracted by me. I could see that she
was very much aware of my presence whilst seeming to be
engrossed by the conversation of a man of distinguished appearance
suggesting diplomacy. A feeble-looking young man with rather a
pleasant laugh joined in the conversation between Mrs. Hetherington
and myself. He was evidently inquisitive as to who I might be, and
threw out one or two baits which I avoided.
Mrs. Hetherington droned on about Lord this and Lady that—if
she mentioned commoners at all they possessed double-barrelled
names—until there was a general movement to go. I rose with the
others, but Lady Pebworth with the greatest cleverness managed to
avoid saying good-bye to me till everyone else had gone and we
were left alone. Mrs. Hetherington, who was the last to leave, looked
at me with the insolent curiosity of good breeding as she was
making her farewells, evidently fully conscious of her hostess’s
manœuvring.
“Are you in a great hurry?” asked Lady Pebworth, as the door
closed behind Mrs. Hetherington.
“Oh, no.”
“Then sit down and let us talk. I must have some fresh tea, and
you will have something stronger.”
I explained that I seldom drank anything stronger than tea.
She looked at me curiously.
“Dear me! You don’t look a puritan.”
I laughed. The expression as applied to myself sounded quite
comic.
“I am afraid my virtue has its origin in vanity. I confine myself to
champagne, and that only occasionally.”
“You are quite right. It is dreadful the objects young men make
of themselves with drink—and women, too, when they cease to
attract.”
“Do they ever realise when that time has come?”
“Yes, most women are philosophical enough for that.”
“Women with charm need never cease to attract.”
“That is very true, but you are young to have found it out. It is
usually a discovery of the middle-aged.”
“Age is not altogether a question of years.”
I found Lady Pebworth a mental tonic. She made me talk as I
had never talked before, indeed, as I had never known myself
capable of talking.
I realised that I had made a distinct impression, and found
myself calculating how far she might be useful to me.
She evidently knew everyone worth knowing. She could
undoubtedly launch me in the great world if she cared to do so, and
I was quite confident of my ability to keep afloat providing I had a
really good introduction. I could not help smiling as I reflected how
envious Lionel Holland would have been could he have witnessed my
tête-à-tête with Lady Pebworth.
Later Lord Pebworth came in. He was the personification of the
elderly well-bred. It was not probable that he had ever possessed
many brains, but he had the amount of conscience which causes a
man highly placed to do the right thing at the right moment. He was
devoid of enthusiasm, and being eminently safe had even achieved a
second-rate position as a politician, which he was quite persuaded
was a first-rate one. He treated his wife’s young men friends—and I
discovered afterwards that they had been a numerous procession—
with kindly toleration, and even went out of his way to give them a
good time when it lay in his power.
He seconded his wife’s invitation to dinner with great cordiality,
and accompanied me as far as the front door, an attention which
was so unexpected that I began to wonder whether he regarded me
as a suspicious character. He gave me an excellent cigar, and I
walked down Park Lane in the red light of a Sunday evening in
summer, feeling that socially, I had moved on.
Lady Pebworth took me up feverishly, and introduced me to a
great many people who seemed quite pleased to know me.
Nevertheless, I realised that I should have to make hay whilst the
sun shone, for unless I persuaded my new acquaintances to accept
me as an intimate I should very soon be dropped. Great ladies have
a way of carrying young men into the vortex of society to which they
have not been accustomed, and then, when weary, leaving them to
be slowly slain by general indifference, till they are only too glad to
find themselves back again in their proper middle-class element.
I did not consider the middle-class my element, and I was
determined that Lady Pebworth should keep me afloat as long as I
chose and not as long as she chose.
As I was engaged in snaring young Gascoyne, I was only able to
give her a divided attention. This turned out to be as well, for she
concluded that there was another woman, and her interest in me
was fanned by jealousy. She tried all manner of arts in order to
discover who claimed my attention, arts which she imagined were
undetected, but at which I was secretly amused.
Mr. Gascoyne used to chaff me good-naturedly about my smart
acquaintances. Some employers in his position might have resented
one of his clerks spending his spare time among people who would
most probably lead him into extravagance; but Mr. Gascoyne, well
born himself, hardly saw the incongruity of it to the extent that an
ordinary middle-class commercial man would have done.
At the time I met Gascoyne my affair with Lady Pebworth was in
full swing. That is to say, I was getting tired of her, for she had
never really meant anything to me. She was beginning to reproach
me with neglect, and to take exception to my Saturdays and
Sundays being occupied.
I knew how far Lady Pebworth could be useful to me, and I was
certainly not going to drop the solid substance of a position in my
own right for the shadow of her social introductions.
It was quite extraordinary how ready people were to accept and
make use of a young man who carried no other credentials than the
good word of a pretty Countess with a reputation for being rapid. I
found myself dancing every evening with the peerage. I cannot
honestly say that I received many invitations to dinner, or to those
more select entertainments which argue any great degree of
intimacy. My keen instinct warned me of the unreality of my position
and of how necessary it was to make ties of some kind to enable me
to retain my hold on society. The men were civil enough, but I had
little in common with those who talked nothing but the jargon they
had learned at a public school or at one of the ’Varsities.
I had the extreme satisfaction of being seen in a box at the
Gaiety by Lionel Holland and Sibella while I was with Lord and Lady
Pebworth and Sir Anthony Cross, a friend of theirs.
“What a very beautiful girl,” said Lady Pebworth, as I bowed to
Sibella.
“Quite lovely,” said Lord Pebworth.
Sir Anthony Cross said nothing, but I repeatedly caught him
looking at Sibella when Lady Pebworth was not using his opera
glasses.
“Who is the man with her?” asked Lady Pebworth.
“Lionel Holland.”
“Is he a friend of yours?”
“I know him. I went to school with him.”
“I see you don’t like him. He looks a bounder.”
 Lady Pebworth had in her conversation just that amount of
slanginess which may be permitted to an obviously well-bred woman
without its giving offence.
As we were going out I found myself by the side of Sibella for a
moment.
“You hardly ever come and see us now,” she murmured.
Sibella never lost her charm for me, and the sound of her voice—
always a little sharp and unmusical, even when she made an
attempt at modulating it, which was seldom—played upon my
temperament in the most subtle manner.
I promised to visit them quite soon.
“Next Sunday?” she asked.
“I am going out of town next Sunday.”
Lady Pebworth’s carriage drew up, and, murmuring something
about the Sunday after, I left her.
“Your friend, Mr. Rank,” said Lady Pebworth, “is decidedly pretty.”
“One of the prettiest girls I have ever set eyes on,” said Lord
Pebworth.
Sir Anthony Cross still said nothing, but I had a shrewd conviction
that he was more impressed than either.
On Saturday I bicycled down to stay with the Gascoynes till
Monday, having promised my employer to do all which tactful
diplomacy might accomplish to find out how they would take an
effort at a reconciliation.
I went a certain part of the way by train, and sent my bag on. I
had written to say that I should not be at the Grange for dinner, and
found myself riding through a crimson summer evening with a
sensuous enjoyment in the perfect peace of the rural scenery
through which I was passing. According to the received notion of a
man with a murder on his conscience, external objects, however
beautiful, should have been unable to convey any sensation of peace
to my inner being. So far from this being the case I was immensely
soothed, and rode leisurely on with as much moral quiet as is
enjoyed by most folk. After all, the degree of power of the
conscience is entirely a matter of individuality and force of character.
A weak man, hypersensitive to received social obligation, may fret
himself into a fever over the merest trifle of a moral lapse. I do not
believe the aged Cenci slept the less well for—in the world’s opinion
—his awful crimes. I have no doubt his affectionate family found him
in a comfortable doze when they came to bring him a deeper sleep.
The rate at which one great crime will develop a man’s intelligence is
curious. It is a wonderful grindstone on which to sharpen the
intellect. New values, hitherto unsuspected, develop themselves on
all sides. An acute and sardonic appreciation of society’s laws
presents itself, together with an exhilarating sensation of being
outside them, which assists in forming an unbiassed and
comprehensive view. I could never have belonged to the anarchical
type of man, because I never had any comprehension of or
sympathy with those who starve in a land of plenty. I could not
understand the intellect which could live in a dream of a society
regenerated by revolution in the future, and which was yet unable to
help itself to a crust of bread in the present. My abilities were
essentially practical, so I removed those who were immediately in
my way and left the dreamers to remove those whom they
esteemed to be in the way of society.
I was indulging in such reflections as these when I passed the
lane down which I had turned the day I had discovered young
Gascoyne’s love affair. The sun had almost set. Already the greater
part of the landscape was in shadow. The song of the birds was
silenced by the chill of coming night, and they slept. On the horizon
the crimson blaze had sunk, and an expiring streak of amber marked
where the day had passed. The evening star shone solitary, a little
pale for the moment, a faint flame set in a ghastly pallor. I turned
down the lane of the romantic memory; why, I could not have said,
unless, perhaps, some occult informing power gave me a
premonition of what I should find there. The actual road track was
quite narrow, there being a wide expanse of grass on each side. I
had not gone very far before I saw a figure lying in a curiously
huddled heap close to the hedge. I knew it was young Gascoyne at
a glance. The expected had happened. My heart almost leapt into
my mouth. How seldom schemes carried as well as mine had done! I
got off my bicycle and looked stealthily around. There was not a soul
in sight. The growing dusk of the lane gave birth to one or two
shadows which somewhat startled me as I went towards the body.
As I turned him over to look at his face a low groan escaped him.
He was not dead. This was awkward. His face was covered with
blood, and there was a terrible wound in the side of his head, while
his jaw hung loose as if it were broken. An idea struck me. I lifted
his head. I almost fancied that I saw his eyes open, and that even in
the gloom he recognised me. I hastened to put my idea into
execution. I pressed my fingers gently to the veins behind his neck.
I knew that this would produce an absolute insensibility which must
inevitably end in death unless succour arrived within quite a short
space of time.
After a few minutes I laid him back an inert mass on the turf,
and, mounting my bicycle, reached the main road without meeting
anyone.
I could not help regretting as I rode leisurely on to the Grange
that it was Miss Gascoyne’s brother whom I had been compelled to
dispose of, but I agreed with the writer who warned the ambitious
that they must subordinate their affections to their aims in life if they
wished to succeed. It is curious how affection can be subdued. For
instance, I loved Sibella, but I was able to subdue my infatuation
and keep it out of sight when necessary.
It was quite dark when I reached the Grange, and riding through
the fir plantation I was entirely dependent on the light thrown from
my bicycle lamp. Suddenly I received a weird reminder of the figure
I had left behind me lying half concealed in the fern and bracken by
the roadside. Perhaps I was a little more affected by what had
happened than I imagined, for I am not superstitious, and only by
reason of having young Gascoyne’s image vividly in my mind can I
account for what happened.
Half-way through the plantation the light of my lamp fell full on a
white, human face dabbled in blood. It was young Gascoyne’s face,
and the blue eyes were wide open and glazed in death. I saw the
head and trunk to the waist. The rest of the body appeared to be
beneath the ground. So strong was the illusion that I swerved aside
in order not to ride over it, and in doing so fell from my machine.
When I picked myself up my lamp was out and I was in total
darkness. I was about to hurry forward with a mad haste to get out
of the wood when I pulled myself up short. Deliberately I remained
where I was, picked up my bicycle, lit my lamp and mounting
leisurely rode slowly out of the plantation. With such a career as I
had planned it would never do to give way to fancies.
There was a light in the drawing-room as I wheeled my bicycle
up the drive of the Grange. I could see Miss Gascoyne sitting by a
small table with a lamp on it. At first I thought she was reading, but
as I drew near I could see that the book was lying in her lap, whilst
her eyes were fixed on the ground in deep reflection. She came out
into the hall when she heard my voice. I thought there was an
unusual animation in her appearance as she welcomed me.
“Have you dined?”
“Well, not exactly, but I had an enormous tea at a wayside inn.”
“You look very tired.”
Evidently I still looked somewhat agitated by my adventure in the
pine wood. No doubt for want of another explanation it must have
struck her as fatigue.
“I have had rather a busy week.”
We moved towards the dining-room chatting freely and
pleasantly, and I could not help contrasting her present friendliness
with the hauteur and strictly formal manner she had displayed at our
first meeting.
We sat and talked while I ate sandwiches.
“Harry said he was going to meet you.”
“I rather thought he might do so, and I looked out for him.”
“It is very rude of him not to have done so, or not to have been
at home when you came. I shall scold him severely.”
She began to talk of her brother and his future. She wanted him
to read for the law. Did I not think it would be the best thing?
“Do you really want my candid opinion?”
“Of course. You know I say what I mean.”
“I think it is about the very worst profession he could follow.”
“But why?”
 “Well, apart from the difficulty of the examinations, which in our
days is no small matter, it is a profession in which patience is the
most important factor. There is no other profession like it for
encouraging a naturally lazy man with a small income to idle.”
“I should have thought application was altogether necessary.”
“Absolutely, but it is optional. He cannot get on without it, but
there will be no one to see that he uses his time well. Besides, men
in the law are as a rule strenuous, earnest people with all kinds of
ambitions, and Harry will hardly meet sympathetics.”
“Then what is he to do?”
“I know you will think it rather a curious suggestion, coming from
me, but I give my vote for the Army.”
“The Army? But Harry is poor.”
I inwardly smiled at Miss Gascoyne’s notion of poverty. I knew
what she thought the Army should mean for a Gascoyne:—a crack
cavalry regiment and unlimited private means.
“An inexpensive line regiment.”
“Oh dear!”
I laughed. “It’s the thing, depend upon it. He will be in a
profession he likes, among men who take their profession seriously.
After all, he will have a better average of gentlemen than he would
have in a crack regiment, even if he does not have the high nobility
of exceptions.”
“I see what you mean, but I don’t think Harry would ever
consent.”
“I believe you could make him do anything.”
I was inwardly congratulating myself on the perfect conviction
with which I was discussing the future of one who by this time was
most probably solving problems in theology.
We talked on till Miss Gascoyne grew anxious.
“I really wish Harry would come home.”
“Shall I go and look for him?”
She knew what was in my mind. His late homecoming meant as
a rule that he was to be found at the inn.
“Was he at home to dinner?”
 “No. He has some friends living a few miles off whom I don’t
know, and he rode over in the afternoon and proposed to stay to
dinner. There he is.”
We both listened. Along the hard road came the sound of a
horse’s hoofs.
Miss Gascoyne rose in alarm. Either the horse was riderless or it
was no longer under control. It was not necessary to listen for more
than a few seconds to be convinced of that.
We both went out on to the lawn. A figure came round the
corner of the house and hastened on to the road. It was the groom.
“Oh, Mr. Rank, what can have happened?”
“I will go and see.”
But she went with me to the gate. The mare had evidently come
to a full stop just outside, and was now held by the groom. She was
steaming with sweat and gave every evidence of the greatest
distress.
Inwardly I was wondering how it was the animal had been so
long in reaching the Grange. It must have wandered on slowly
feeding by the wayside till it had taken fright at some passing object
and started at full gallop for home.
Miss Gascoyne looked around in dismay for her brother.
“She wur alone, Miss,” said the groom, blankly.
“It doesn’t at all follow that your brother was on her back when
she bolted,” I ventured.
She looked at me, grateful for the suggestion. She was very
white, but her character asserted itself. She turned to the groom.
“Baker, take Jenny round to the stables and make her
comfortable as soon as possible. Mr. Rank and I will walk as far as
the inn and you can follow us.”
“Very good, Miss.” The man did as he was directed.
“I will go as I am,” she said, “though after all I may be alarming
myself unnecessarily.” She was not the woman to treat the situation
hysterically if it could possibly be avoided. I was genuinely sorry for
the grief that was coming upon her. I would have spared her if
possible, but I either had to abandon the object of my life or to put
up with such unpleasantnesses as were involved with the course I
had laid out for myself.
We started to walk rapidly towards the inn.
“I dare say Harry missed his stirrup and Jenny bolted.”
On the way her spirits rose. The fact that we met no one seemed
to her a proof that nothing much was the matter. Sounds of drunken
revelry reached us long before the inn came in sight.
“I will wait here,” she said, as we reached the broadening of the
road. I left her and went on.

“We’ll all be merry,

Drinking whisky, wine, and sherry,
If he can’t come, we’ll ask his son.”

The chorus was trolled forth in disjointed snatches, showing the

singers to be very far gone indeed. The door stood ajar and I went
in. So convinced was I of the necessity of playing my part thoroughly
that I looked carefully round to see if Harry Gascoyne were present.
The half-dozen or so roysterers looked up stupidly with open
mouths. As a matter of fact, they were none of them drinking
whisky, wine or sherry, but had very substantial mugs of ale before
them. The atmosphere was thick with tobacco smoke and heavy
with the reek from peasant limbs. The landlord, with a figure that
threatened apoplexy, surveyed them from the other side of the bar
with an approving smile as if he were presiding over an assemblage
of highly well-behaved infants. To me he suggested a genial but
relentless ghoul, callous to the feelings of the mothers and children
who were to welcome home these repulsive sots as governors and
lords of their lives and welfare.
They sat waiting for me to speak.
“Has Mr. Gascoyne been here to-night?” I asked.
The landlord looked round the room, and, having as it were
satisfied himself that none of the others knew of the young man
being concealed unknown to himself, answered slowly:
“I ain’t seen ’im.”
“No more ain’t I,” came in phlegmatic chorus.
 “Are you quite sure?”
“Quite.”
“Thank you.” I withdrew.
Miss Gascoyne came forward out of the dusk into the light which
streamed from the front door.
“He’s not there,” I said gravely.
She looked at me in dismay.
“Shall I tell them?” I asked.
She reflected for a moment.
“Yes. He may have fallen from his horse. We must look for him at
once.” I turned towards the inn.
“I will come with you,” she said, and we passed through the low
door.
The song had not been resumed. Evidently my errand had given
food for conversation. The landlord paused in the middle of
something he was saying and got down off his stool.
“Mr. Gascoyne’s horse has returned home without him, and we
are afraid he may have been thrown and hurt.” I spoke in a loud
tone.
At the sight of Miss Gascoyne the whole assemblage had risen.
She was looked upon by the cottagers around with not a little awe.
“Will some of you oblige me by helping to look for him?”
The landlord, who had had more than one passage of arms with
the justices of the peace as to the way in which his house was
conducted, became officiousness itself. Anything to prove to the
gentry what an estimable and respectable character he was.
“It ain’t like Mr. Gascoyne to get into trouble on horseback,” he
said, with a laudatory shake of his head, as if to conciliate Miss
Gascoyne by conveying to her what a very high sense he had of her
brother’s horsemanship.
He evidently had an idea of offering her some refreshment, for
he looked from her to the bottles of spirit and coloured cordials on
the shelf, and from them back again to her, but apparently without
being able to make up his mind to so hazardous a proceeding.
As we were all standing outside the inn debating how to conduct
the search, a dog-cart drove up.
 “Let me see, I am right for the Grange, am I not?” asked a voice.
“Yes,” I answered, “but whom do you want at the Grange?”
“Miss Gascoyne.”
“I am Miss Gascoyne.”
There was a silence. The man in the dog-cart was evidently
somewhat taken aback. He was saved from further awkwardness by
the character of the woman he had to deal with.
“I am afraid something has happened. What is it?”
“Your brother has had an accident.”
“Is he hurt?”
“I am afraid so.”
The answer was inconclusive, and it was obviously intended that
it should be.
“Seriously?”
“I am afraid so.”
The answer was still lacking in finality, and Miss Gascoyne
guessed the worst.
We all stood round, the men looking stupid but concerned.
“Will you take me to him, please?”
“I came to fetch you.”
“Will you come too, Mr. Rank?”
“Of course.” I turned to the landlord’s wife, who had now joined
us. “Can you find a shawl for Miss Gascoyne? She has no hat.”
The landlady disappeared, and returned with a white woollen
shawl, which she was taking out of tissue paper.
“When was he found?” asked Miss Gascoyne, as we drove rapidly
away, leaving the little group outside the public-house to discuss the
matter.
“About two hours and a half ago.”
“Where?”
The doctor explained, throwing into his account as much
insinuation as he could of the worst. I don’t know at what particular
moment Miss Gascoyne grasped that her brother was dead, but it
was apparent before we reached our destination that she had
realised the truth.
 He had been carried to a farmhouse, from whence they had sent
for the doctor.
“I am afraid he was kicked by his horse. I cannot for the life of
me imagine how it could have happened to so fine a horseman.”
The doctor ended a little lamely. Young Gascoyne’s propensities
were too well known for miles round his home for anyone to be
ignorant of them.
I felt somewhat uncomfortable as we turned down the lane
where I had left Harry Gascoyne. The doctor made no remark as we
passed the spot where I knew he had been found.
I was full of curiosity as to how his sister would behave.
As we descended from the dog-cart, the doctor turned to her.
“I hope I have made myself clear.”
Miss Gascoyne stood silent for a few seconds, struggling for self-
control. Then she answered quietly:
“Quite. You mean that my brother is dead?”
The doctor nodded his head gravely.
It was curious evidence of the apartness of Miss Gascoyne’s
character that the woman of the house, a buxom, garrulous body,
made no attempt at comfort. She at once realised that it would have
been an intrusion.
Miss Gascoyne went upstairs with the doctor. She was not away
long, and when she returned I saw that she must give way soon, or
a mental catastrophe would ensue. Her features were rigid.
I went upstairs at her request.
All signs of violence had already been removed, and he lay as if
asleep. Any indications of vice and intemperance had disappeared,
and he looked very boyish and beautiful. The doctor was in the
room.
“I don’t quite see,” he said, in a low voice, “how a mere kick or
two could have inflicted such injuries. I don’t mean, of course, that
kicks could not have caused his death, but the blows seem as if they
had been struck by a blunt instrument, directed with less velocity
than would have been the case with a horse’s hoof. I am waiting for
a colleague, and then we must make a serious examination.”
 I murmured that I was no authority. I could not help reflecting
how much Harry Gascoyne had been the gainer by dying when he
did. Instead of growing into a debauched, worn-out old man, his
physical casket lay before us in all the freshness of its youth and
beauty. He would leave beautiful instead of ugly memories.
Yes, it was well he had died. His sister might continue to worship
him and to preserve her illusions.
She returned to the Grange, and I, having left her to the care of
the old housekeeper, went to the inn, though it struck me as being
somewhat ridiculous to observe the conventions at such a time.
I did not believe for one moment that the blows which had struck
young Gascoyne were from the horse’s hoofs. Before leaving the
house, however, I went round to the stables. There was no one
about, and the mare was by this time as quiet as a lamb.
I examined her hoofs carefully. There was not the least trace of
blood—at any rate, not observable to myself. If there were any
traces, they must be microscopic.
I sat down on an upturned pail and reflected. I should like to
save Nat Holway—that is to say, if he had not already given himself
up, which with a nature such as his was quite possible.
Would it help him to smear the horse’s hind hoofs with blood? It
was worth trying. Where was I to get the blood from? There was
only one source, and that was myself.
I am not brave about blood, but the occasion demanded urgent
measures. I took out my pocket-knife, and deliberately drew the
blade across the little finger of my left hand. I then smeared the
hoofs of the horse and, binding my finger, left the stable. The dawn
was just beginning to lay ghostly hands on the garment of night.
The stars trembled and burned pale in the growing light.
Through the firs the coming day gave almost the effect of an
expanse of water beyond. In the cheerless air there was a touch of
clamminess which suggested rain, whilst heavy, sulky-looking clouds
were driven slowly towards the east.
I walked with a melancholy step along the sandy path that led
through the plantation. What would poor Janet Gray do? I made a
point of letting my sympathies have as much play as was compatible
with my own interest. As a matter of fact, her situation was slightly
bettered, excepting that her lover was dead—than which no greater
grief can come to any human being. But at the same time she would
receive a much larger meed of pity than would otherwise have been
her lot.
If Nat Holway were fool enough to give himself up it would be
unpleasant, although I could not forget that even if he had not
actually accomplished his purpose, it had been his full intention to
murder Harry Gascoyne. Still, he was a fine fellow, and it was not
nice to think of lives unnecessarily wasted. The next afternoon I
would go over to Copsley and reconnoitre. I must confess that I
found the whole thing very exciting, especially as I myself stood in
absolutely no danger.
On returning to the inn I found the landlord waiting up for me, a
great feat for a man who was usually somewhat heavy with alcohol.
He plied me with questions, and appeared terribly shocked at the
sad catastrophe.
“Such an open-handed young gentleman, sir, and his sister
doting on him as she did. Well, there, you never know. The Lord has
His own way of doing things.”
He sighed and looked as if to say that were it not for this
undeniable fact he might be prevailed upon to take a hand in the
management of the universe.
I lay open-eyed, tossing from side to side. Miss Gascoyne stood
between myself and sleep. Although I could put an irrevocable fact
like death out of my mind I could not dismiss a living grief so easily.
I knew that she was capable of terrible suffering. Her brother had
been her all. At the same time, while feeling acutely for her I could
not help reflecting what a much better match she would now be.
Sixteen hundred a year was not great wealth, but when combined
with a woman like Miss Gascoyne it was a prize worth having.
I believe there is not the character, however elevated, which does
not at a moment of supreme grief calculate the particular degree of
benefit or disadvantage it will obtain from it.
It was noon when I walked over to the Grange to ask how Miss
Gascoyne was. The servant said her mistress particularly desired to
be informed of my arrival, and I went into the inner hall and waited.
She came down almost immediately. I was shocked at the change in
her appearance. She had evidently been weeping bitterly, and for a
moment I would have given anything to restore her brother to her.
The weakness was only momentary, however, and after all it would
have been doing her a very bad turn.
She appeared to derive a certain degree of comfort and help
from my presence.
“It seems a little sad, Mr. Rank, that although we have so many
relations there is hardly one to whom I could write at this
emergency.”
This was a great opportunity to please Mr. Gascoyne by obtaining
her consent to send for him. There were also other schemes in my
head, nebulous as yet, which such a reconciliation would assist
materially.
“I should have thought,” I said gently, “that your father’s brother
would be the proper person to send for under the circumstances.”
She looked at me in surprise. The idea had evidently not struck
her, and she became thoughtful.
“I am afraid he would not come.”
“I think he would. I know it hurt his feelings somewhat that
when his son died neither you nor your brother wrote to him.”
“He told you so?”
“Yes.”
“I will send a telegram.”
“Let me take it.”
She went to her desk and wrote several.
“The groom can take them,” she said, as I rose.
“No, let me. I shall be quicker on my bicycle, and it will be
something to do.”
“It is very poor entertainment for you.”
“Anything I can do to serve you. Your brother and I were great
friends.”
Most of the telegrams were conventional intimations of the news
to relatives and friends. That to Mr. Gascoyne ran:
 “My brother has been killed by an accident. I am in great trouble;
would you come to me?”
My plan was that Miss Gascoyne should make friends with her
uncle and aunt and that we four should form a harmonious quartet,
and that finally I should marry her, and Mr. Gascoyne should leave us
his money.
I fully realised all my own disabilities in Miss Gascoyne’s eyes.
The Semitic taint in my appearance could not possibly be a
recommendation, and my parentage would certainly be a bar. There
was no disguising the fact that my father was not, to the world’s way
of thinking, a gentleman, and from what I could remember I was
inclined in strict honesty to agree with the world.
I was not so far even the adopted heir of Mr. Gascoyne, and I
was running a grave risk in introducing a considerably nearer blood
relation bearing his own name into the house. I did not fear that Mr.
Gascoyne would do anything less for me than he had intended, but
he might do considerably less than I had intended. He was just the
sort of man to admire Miss Gascoyne. Still, should I fail in my
scheme, she already had an ample fortune, and was no claimant for
relief. I sent off the telegram, but did not return to the house. I
gathered that Miss Gascoyne would wish to be alone, and contented
myself with sending over a message that I was at the inn should she
want me, and that I should remain there till Mr. Gascoyne arrived.
She sent back a grateful note thanking me, and asking me to come
over in the evening.
In the afternoon I mounted my bicycle and rode to Copsley.
The little village lay still as death in the burning sun. The boys
and young men were probably lounging about the adjacent lanes
and fields, whilst the older people were taking their Sunday
afternoon rest.
The blacksmith’s shop was shut, the great worm-eaten doors
barred with a massive piece of iron. The house next door, with its
trim garden and green shutters, which evidenced the prosperity of
the Grays, was in silence.
Or was I mistaken?
 I was wheeling my machine, and I paused with my back to the
house and bent down, ostensibly to set something defective right.
There was the sound of faint sobbing in the house behind me. At the
same time I heard footsteps coming along the street. I looked up. It
was Nat Holway. His face was impassive, but his features were set.
Almost at the same moment the door of the house opened, and Mr.
Gray came out.
Apparently he was expecting Nat Holway. They went into the
forge together. Old Gray’s face was white and stern.
I guessed that they had an appointment, and were keeping it
there in order that they might talk undisturbed. I wondered if by any
chance Nat Holway was offering to take Janet’s shame upon his
shoulders. He was the sort of man to do it. Really, if such a thing did
happen, and the murderer were not suspected, what a convenient
settlement it would be. I should have obtained what I wanted, Janet
Gray would in time be happy, and Miss Gascoyne would remain in
ignorance of her brother’s peccadillo. It is certainly rare that matters
move so easily along the ways of common-sense.
I rode back to the inn to find a telegram from Mr. Gascoyne to his
niece which she had sent over for me to see. It was to say that he
would come by the evening train. There were only four trains to
Copsley Station on Sunday—two each way—and the London train did
not arrive till ten o’clock. I saw her in the early evening. She seemed
worn out with grief, and there was, I thought, a quite tragic
loneliness in her appearance.
It pleased her to talk of her dead brother, and, sitting there
saying all the nice things I could about him, and full of a real and
genuine sympathy for her, I could hardly realise that it was I who
had knelt in the dusky lane with my fingers on the dying youth’s
throat.
“He had a great admiration for you,” she said, with a faint smile.
“He thought you the cleverest person he had ever met.”
“His was one of the sunniest natures; no one could help loving
him.”
“He was spoilt, of course. My father spoilt him terribly. It was not
to be wondered at if he was a little wild.”
 I allowed her to talk on till I rose to go and meet Mr. Gascoyne.
“I don’t know why,” she said, as she came out into the lane with
me, “but I have always imagined my uncle to be a very hard man. I
read ‘Nicholas Nickleby’ when I was a little girl, and I could not help
drawing a comparison between my father, who was like Nicholas’s
father, and lived in the country, and my uncle, who, of course,
represented Ralph Nickleby.”
I smiled. “You will find Mr. Gascoyne very different from that. He
is much softened of late, but I don’t think that he has ever been a
miser, even if at times he has carried the principle of justice to the
verge of hardness.”
I was thinking of the circumstances of my first appeal to him.
When I left her I went at once to the station, and, as the train
was late, had some time to wait.
There were one or two yokels in the tiny waiting-room, and the
station-master addressed one of them as he passed through from
his little ivy-covered cottage to the ticket-office.
“Sad thing, this, about Mr. Gascoyne, Edward.”
The young man in question answered slowly:
“Yes. They say as ’is ’orse kicked him to death.”
“That’s strange—very strange. Was the horse bad-tempered?”
“Not that I know of, and I’ve shod the mare often enough.”
“They say as Miss Gascoyne is powerful cut up.”
“That’s very likely; yer see, she doted on him.”
I scrutinised young Gray, the last speaker, narrowly. His manner
betrayed no indication that he was in any way aware of his sister’s
condition.
As Mr. Gascoyne descended from the train he pressed my hand
warmly.
“This is very terrible,” I said—“very terrible.”
“Tell me, how did it happen?”
As we drove towards the Grange I detailed the event as well as I
could.
“You think the horse kicked him to death—a horse that was fond
of him? That is somewhat strange.”
“I don’t say it is so, sir. That is what has been surmised.”
 “When do they hold the inquest?”
“To-morrow.”
“My wife is shocked beyond measure. If my niece had expressed
the least wish for her to do so, she would have come too.”
I did not answer. I could not say how Miss Gascoyne would
welcome the idea of her aunt assuming the role of a near relation.
“I am very touched at her sending for me—very touched indeed.
Is the body at the Grange?”
“No; it is at a farmhouse some miles off. It will be brought home
after the inquest.”
“Quite so.”
We reached the Grange.
“If you don’t mind, sir, I will get back to town. I would sooner. I
don’t think I can be of any further use.”
He did not press me to remain, and I went back to town carrying
messages for his managing clerk. I did not witness the meeting
between Miss Gascoyne and himself, but it must have been quite
satisfactory, for he stayed away over a week, and I learnt that Mrs.
Gascoyne had joined them.
I fancied that Miss Gascoyne would be rather surprised at the
dignity and well-bred restraint of the tradesman’s daughter, and
would find it a little difficult to account for her father’s prejudice; in
fact, his objection could not fail to strike her as having something in
it of unreasoning snobbery.
I would have given a great deal to be at the inquest, but
although there was no particular reason why I should not be, I
thought Mr. Gascoyne might deem it a little officious. Neither did I
go down to the funeral, but wrote a sympathetic note and sent a
wreath. I let it fully appear that my reason for not going was
diffidence, and a desire not to assume too intimate an attitude.
The morning of Mr. Gascoyne’s return he called me into his office.
“Close the door, Israel.”
He motioned me to a chair.
“Did you see any account of the inquest?”
“No, sir; I have been waiting for you to tell me.” As a matter of
fact, I had followed the case most carefully in the papers.
 “It appeared that there was a serious doubt as to how my
nephew received his injuries.”
“Really?”
“Yes. In the first place, both doctors were a little surprised that
they should have caused death at all. The whole case became quite
complicated. There were distinct traces of blood on the horse’s hoof,
and yet one of the doctors absolutely refused to admit that the
injuries could have been inflicted by the horse at all.”
“How very extraordinary!”
“Did you at any time exchange confidences with my nephew on
love affairs?”
I swiftly reflected. Had he the least proof of our having done so?
It would not do to give a direct answer.
“I dare say we did, sir, but I cannot remember anything definite.”
“Some letters were found in his pocket.”
I almost started. How was it that it had never occurred to me to
search young Gascoyne’s pockets?
“Were they love-letters?”
“Yes.”
“It is not very unusual for a young fellow of his age.”
“No, and I am afraid that what they contained is also not
unusual. It appears that he had accomplished the ruin of a girl in a
neighbouring village.”
I looked thoughtful. “Do you mean to suggest that there is a
mystery?”
“I am afraid there is. I cannot help thinking that the doctor who
refused to accept the theory of his having been killed by the horse
was right.”
“Why did they not call in a third doctor?”
“They did, and he was evidently under the influence of the man
who believed in the horse theory.”
“What was the verdict?”
I had forborne to satisfy myself on this point in order to be able
to ask the question with easy unconcern.
“Accidental death.”
 I was astonished, but the country bumpkins on the jury had, I
imagined, made up their minds before the inquest that he had been
kicked by his horse.
“Were the letters read in court?”
“No. They were considered unnecessary, and no one thought
they bore on the issue.”
“Do you think they did?”
“Decidedly I do,” answered Mr. Gascoyne. “Depend upon it, there
was foul play. I talked to the doctor who would not admit the horse
theory, after the case was over, and he was quite positive the
injuries could not have been inflicted by a horse’s hoof.”
“Who was the girl?” I asked.
“Well, I do not think it is quite right to disclose her name. I had a
talk with her father, who was very distant and said the matter would
be best settled by saying nothing more about it. I don’t know what
he meant.”
“Was the girl’s name by any chance Janet Gray?”
Mr. Gascoyne looked at me in surprise.
“That was her name, but how did you know?”
“Harry Gascoyne spoke to me once or twice about her, and I
wondered at the time from something he said whether he had not
made rather a mess of things.”
“Yes, I am afraid we men are very selfish, that is, until we have
wives and daughters of our own. The possession of sisters does not
seem to instil the same sense of responsibility to woman-kind.”
“Does Miss Gascoyne know of this?”
“No; unless the matter develops further I do not think it
necessary to inform her.”
“What did the police think of the affair?”
“I fancy they are quite prepared to accept the horse theory.”
“Then the matter is settled?”
“Except for the trouble of the poor girl. It appears that he
actually promised to marry her.”
“He was generous-hearted enough for anything,” I answered,
with calculated impulsiveness.
 “Her father asked me to give my word that the matter would not
go any further, so you will remember that you hold a secret that
affects three human beings at least.”
“I shall of course be as silent as the grave.”
He began to open his correspondence, and I rose to leave the
room.
“Oh, by the way, my wife and my niece have struck up quite a
friendship. My wife remains at the Grange, and I shall go down there
again for a few days next week.”
I looked pleased.
“I believe,” he added, smiling, “you have been indulging in some
diplomacy at our expense. Don’t you think my niece is a beautiful
woman?”
“I think everyone would admit that.”
“I expect she will make a very brilliant match.”
I went out. I knew quite well why this last remark had been
made, and smiled inwardly. Mr. Gascoyne had thought gently to
dissuade me from indulging in hopes which were improbable of
fulfilment. He could not know how carefully I had calculated all the
obstacles that stood in the way of my success.
As I returned to my desk I found myself murmuring the word
two. I had the most difficult part of my task still before me, but so
far the two opening campaigns had been brilliant successes. I
wondered if the Gascoyne family in general realised how much
nearer I was to the succession. Probably with the exception of Mr.
Gascoyne and his niece they had no idea of my existence.
I took out the genealogical tree and studied it carefully, although
there was little need of this, as I could have passed an examination
in the entire history of the Gascoynes up to date at any moment.
There were now four lives between me and the object of my
ambition.
My great-uncle Henry, who was now very nearly ninety years of
age, lived somewhere in the North of England. It was not necessary
to consider him in any way. He was a widower without children.
There was Ughtred, the uncle of the present peer, still a man in the
prime of life. He might yet marry and have a family. He was devoted
to good living and had a reputation as a dilettante. I had never seen
him, but he had held office at Court, and was altogether rather an
important person.
My difficulties would come when I arrived at the main branch of
the family, and I reserved them for the final stroke. I should then be
obviously near the succession and might be suspected of motives. A
great many eyes would be upon me, and there would probably be a
young baby and his perfectly healthy father to deal with. I began to
realise that so far I had merely nibbled at my task.
It was advisable to give myself rest for a few months, as I
discovered that after each campaign my nerve was apt to be slightly
affected. I had proved to my own satisfaction that the dictum,
‘murder will out,’ was invented to frighten mankind, had in fact been
set up as a perpetual bogey. Nat Holway’s guilt might be discovered,
but the tracing of my anonymous letter would be an almost
impossible task.
I was very anxious to know how Janet Gray’s affair was
progressing, and rather hoped I might be asked to stay at the
Grange for a day or two. I gathered as time went on that the
friendship between Miss Gascoyne and her aunt had grown stronger
and stronger. Mr. Gascoyne told me that their attachment was a
great relief to him, that the companionship of her niece had to a
great extent dissipated his wife’s melancholy, and that having a
common sorrow they were very much in sympathy.
“They admire each other, and it is the dignified and warm
friendship of two women to whom respect is essential. By the way,
Israel, the girl Janet Gray is married.”
“Indeed?”
“Yes, to a young miller called Nat Holway. He is very steady and
very well-to-do. I almost wondered——” He pulled himself up
abruptly.
“Yes, sir?” I queried.
“Nothing, nothing.”
I knew what he had intended to say, and fervently wished that
he would get rid of his vague suspicions.
 I was glad, therefore, when he continued: “I have often
wondered whether my nephew may not have had a fight with some
admirer of Janet Gray, a fight that ended unexpectedly in a tragedy.”
“Do you intend to pursue the matter?”
“No,” he answered, energetically. “I think when a man
undertakes the seduction of a girl he must look for violence from
those whose feelings he outrages or from those whose hearths he
pollutes. I could not if it were my own son bring the avenger to so-
called justice. I may be wrong, but I believe that if my niece were
asked, she would agree with me.”
I breathed a sigh of relief, for they were not precisely the
sentiments I had expected from him.