The House of Strange Secrets: A Detective Story

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The House of Strange Secrets: A Detective Story Page 25

by A. Eric Bayly


  CHAPTER XXV

  IN THE OAK-PANELLED HALL

  It seemed to him like an age, but was really only a few minutes, beforeLaurence Carrington recovered consciousness. When he did so it was witha violent pain in his head and neck.

  Old "Doctor Meadows" was bending over him as he lay on a bench in thehall at which he had peeped through the keyhole of the great oak door.The servant, Horncastle, was not to be seen.

  Laurence struggled to rise, but the burning pain in his neck, and afeeling of dizziness and extreme weakness, prevented him. The "doctor"motioned to him to keep still.

  "You will be better soon," he said encouragingly; "thank Heaven we werein time, or the brute would have done for you. Strange, stranger thanstrange," he went on, half aloud, "that we should have returned from thedistant East, have allowed a couple of dozen years to pass without beingso much as aware whether each other still lived, and that--that weshould come together like this."

  Laurence saw that he was thinking aloud. He waited silently to hear whatthe old gentleman would say further. But though the young man could seehis companion's lips moving, he was disappointed, in that the "doctor"concluded his thoughts on the subject beneath his breath.

  "What happened?" Laurence asked at length. "It was 'it' that attackedme, was it not?"

  "Yes, 'it,'" replied the "doctor," with a shake of his head. "I trust,"he went on, "that Horncastle will catch him."

  "I should think," replied Laurence, "that the terrible enemy of myfather and your convict servant would make a good match."

  The old man leaped back as though shot.

  "You know that?" he cried, evidently referring to Carrington's allusionto Horncastle--"you know that? What else do you know?"

  Laurence shook his head.

  "Not very much," he answered with a smile, as he raised himself to asitting posture. "And you?"

  "Me! Well, I know everything."

  "What!" the young man shouted, "you know who my father's enemy is?"

  "I do."

  "And you know my father. What else do YOU know?"

  "I know," responded Meadows slowly, "that the 'long arm of coincidence'is, well, longer than the 'long arm of the law.'"

  "What do you mean?"

  "I have already told you. I mean that I, the suspected, spied-upon manof mystery (that's so, is it not?), I am the man who alone can throwlight upon--can, moreover, effectually solve--the secrets of yourfather, Major Carrington's life."

  "Then he is 'the' Major Carrington, of Madras?"

  "He is."

  "But," muttered Laurence, half aloud, "he told me that only one man(besides his enemy) ever learned his strange, inviolate secret."

  "And I am that one man," responded the "doctor."

  "Now," exclaimed Laurence angrily, "now I know you are lying. The manwho held the Squire's secret died years ago."

  "And," was the "doctor's" quiet reply, "so did I!"

  And, before Laurence could find words to express his feelings at such amad, mysterious remark, there came the sound of flying feet thunderingalong the stone passage and drawing towards the door, through which hehad himself been dragged after the attack in the dark.

  The oak door now stood open. From within no one would have believed itto be a door, the oak panelling of the walls being so skilfully imitatedon it.

  Through it, like a madman, rushed the convict servant, Horncastle. Hisface was white as a sheet, his breath came in jerks. Terror was manifeston his repulsive features.

  "Thank God, I'm free from it," he almost shrieked, as he rushed up tothe other two men.

  Lighted only by a single tallow candle, the scene was a strange one--onethat an artist would have given much to have an opportunity ofpicturing. The shadows on the men's faces, the cunningly wroughtpanelling of the great lonesome hall, the air of mystery that seemed tohang about the place--all these made the picture one that Laurence neverforgot.

  "Well," asked Meadows, "why have you not caught him?"

  "The darkness," explained the convict servant, "the darkness, the awfuldarkness! I'd stand up to any man in the kingdoms, but that cursedsilence and gloom and its 'orrors are a bit too much. And that creature,'arf man, 'arf beast, seemed like the 'old man' 'isself, the way heslipped out of my grasp, which ain't a light one, as this 'ere gentknows." And the fellow had the audacity to pat Laurence on the shoulder.He was no longer the terrified creature of a moment before, when in thecompany of two of his fellow-creatures.

  Meadows looked at him with ill-disguised expressions of disgust. But hedid not speak. Instead, he motioned to the servant to depart.

  By this time Laurence was able to rise and move about without beingovercome by the pains in his neck and head. He turned to Meadows, whohad astounded him a moment before by his casual remark that he was a manwho had been dead many years.

  "Please explain the strange observation you made whenMr.--er--Horncastle interrupted us by his return." The convict scowled,and looked daggers at Meadows, who, however, did not notice, for he wasdeep in thought.

  "Mr. Carrington," he said at length, "I can tell you a little now, butnot all. First tell me in what way you think you were attacked."

  "I cannot. I only know that I felt as though someone was cutting mythroat."

  "Someone," replied "Doctor Meadows," "was doing more. He was trying tobreak your neck."

  "Ah!" Laurence exclaimed, "like he did my poor father's. And how did hedo it? It was all so quickly, so cleverly done."

  "It was done by a man who has made a careful study of murder."

  "Good gracious, for what purpose?"

  "For the purpose of murdering your father!"

  "No, no, it cannot be!" exclaimed Laurence. "Why this enmity? What hasthe Squire done?"

  "Nothing," responded Meadows; "and can't you see, now, who and what thecreature is that is hiding in yonder darkness?"

  "No. Who? What?"

  "Don't you know what harmless weapon it is that when skilfully wieldeddeals death more cruelly than knife or gun? Why, a cord, a piece of silkcord!"

  "Then," Laurence shouted, for the words shed light upon the dark subjectthat he had tried so hard to penetrate--"then the man is a--a----"

  "A Thug," was the grim reply.

 

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