by G. A. Henty
CHAPTER III.
THE SEARCH COMMENCED.
Papa wrote several times in the fortnight following the funeral of Mr.Harmer to Robert Gregory, in answer to his letters inquiring whatprogress he was making towards the discovery of the will. At the end ofthat time I received a letter from Sophy, and from the handwriting Icould see how ill and shaken she must be. Her letter was very, verypitiful; she was still evidently suffering the greatest remorse andsorrow for the death of Mr. Harmer, and she said "she was sure sheshould never have recovered at all had she not received the news of theforgiveness he had written to her before he died." It had been adreadful shock to her; but she accepted the loss of her fortune as adeserved punishment for her wicked conduct. "My husband," she said, "isvery kind indeed to me; and it is on my account entirely that he regretsthe loss of the fortune, as he says that my listening to him has been myruin." If the will was not found shortly, he intended to get somethingto do, and she meant to try to get some pupils for music. She begged meto write to her, for that I was the only person she could hope to be afriend to her now.
Of course I answered her letter, and from that time we kept up anoccasional correspondence.
Papa told me that in his early letters to him, Robert Gregory hadexpressed his determination to discover the will at all hazards, butthat he had now, to a certain extent, acquiesced in papa's view, that anunsuccessful attempt would be certain to prove the signal for theinstant destruction of the will, and that therefore nothing should beattempted unless success was pretty certain. Robert Gregory was the moreobliged to acquiesce in this decision, as far as he was personallyconcerned, for he was unable to appear in Canterbury, as he would havebeen arrested if he had done so.
We returned from Ramsgate, as we had agreed upon, about a fortnightafter the funeral. Harry having already left for the North, papa wouldstill further have postponed our return; but I said it would be veryunpleasant whenever we returned, and we might as well go through itsooner as later.
Indeed, I got through the next fortnight better than I had expected.Every one, of course, came to call; but by that time people had heardpretty well all there was to tell,--namely, that the will wasmissing,--so that all I had to do was to receive their condolences.Almost all were, I believe, sincerely sorry for us, and every oneremarked what an extraordinary business it was; indeed, popular opinionwas strongly against the Misses Harmer, whom every one accused of havinghidden the will. However, papa and I were careful never by any remarksof ours to appear to confirm these suspicions, as it was evidently ourbest policy to keep quiet, and let the matter seem to drop.
In the meanwhile I had commenced taking steps towards what was now ouronly hope, the discovery of the "priest's chamber."
The day after I returned from Ramsgate, I went round the garden to seehow things were looking after my long absence, and I found our servantAndrew--who acted in the general capacity of coachman, groom, andgardener, having a boy under him to assist in all these labours--busybanking up some long rows of celery, an article on which he particularlyprided himself. Andrew had been in papa's service a great many years,and papa would not have parted with him on any account. He was a veryfaithful, attached old man. When I say old man, I believe he was notmore than seven or eight and forty; but he looked much older: his facewas pinched and weatherbeaten, he stooped very much, walked with ashort, quick, shuffling step, and looked as if he were momentarily onthe point of falling. This was not to be wondered at, for he had never,as long as I can remember, had any legs to speak of; and now there didnot seem to be the least flesh upon them. They looked, as Harry oncesaid, exactly like a pair of very crooked mop-sticks; and as he alwaysdressed in drab breeches and gaiters to match, it showed theextraordinary thinness of his legs to the greatest advantage. Andrew,however, had not the least idea but that he was an active, able man;and, indeed, would sometimes in confidence lament to me,--
"Master going out in wet, cold nights to visit patients."
"But it is much worse for you than for him, Andrew," I would urge; "youare outside all in the wet, while he is inside in shelter."
"Lor', Miss Agnes, it is no account along of me. I am a young man by theside of master. He must be nigh fifteen years older than I am."
And so he was; but papa was a hale, active man, whereas poor Andrewlooked as if a strong wind would blow him off his seat on the box. Evenwhen he was at his best, and came to papa when we first went toCanterbury, and he was only thirty, I have heard papa say that he neverhad been at all strong; and yet he was so willing, and careful, andindefatigable, that papa put a great value on him.
Andrew ceased from working among the celery when I came up, and,touching his hat to me, inquired how I had been all this longtime.
"Bad doings at Harmer Place, Miss," he said, after a few remarks aboutthe weather, the garden, and the horses.
"Are there, Andrew?" I asked; "anything new?"
"Very bad, Miss; half the servants have had notice to leave. There's myMary, who has been there three years last Michaelmas, and who your papawas kind enough to recommend there as housemaid--she's got warning, andshe came to me last night as savage as ever was; not because she wasgoing to leave, miss--don't go to think such a thing; but she wanted tohave given warning at once, when we found that Miss Harmer had hid awaythe will, and cheated you all out of your money. But I said to her,'Don't you go to do nothing in a hurry, Mary; the will is hid away, andyou may be useful somehow in watching what they two old cats--savingyour presence, Miss Agnes--is up to. At any rate, you wait.' And nowshe's got warning to go, and she's as savage as may be that she did nothave the first word. Didn't she let on to me last night though, till hermother up and told her to sit down and hold her tongue; but it wereenough to aggravate the girl, surely."
"I am sorry to hear that she will have to leave, Andrew, both for herown sake and because she might, as you say, have been useful to us inmaking a few inquiries."
"That's just what I said to my son Thomas last night when Mary came inwith the news; but he said that it did not matter so much on thataccount, because his Sarah's not got warning to leave, and she will findout everything that is wanted."
"And who is your son Thomas's Sarah?" I asked, smiling.
"She is the under-housemaid, Miss; and she used to go out walks withMary on her Sunday evenings out. Thomas, he used to go out to meet hissister, and so met Sarah too; at last he goes to meet her more thanMary, and, I suppose, one of these days they will get married. She isone of the few that are to stay, Miss, for most of the old ones aregoing because they don't mean to keep so many servants, and they havegot some new ones coming. All those who are going were recommended toMr. Harmer by Master; and they seem to have picked them out a-purpose.Now Sarah was not; she came from the other end of the county, and wasrecommended to Mr. Harmer by some lady last year, at the time of allthose grand doings over there; and as they don't know that her young manThomas is my son, seeing he is in service in another place, they havenot given her warning to go."
"And do you think, Andrew, that Sarah would be willing to do anything tohelp us?"
"Lor' bless you, Miss, she would do anything for you; she said the otherday she would, and that she did not care whether she lost her place ornot; she did not want to stop with thieves. Oh, you may depend on her,Miss."
"Well, Andrew, do you think I could get her to come here and have a talkwith me quietly?"
"Sure enough, Miss Agnes. To-day is Friday. On Sunday evening she goesout, and will walk into town with Mary--and for the matter of that, withTom too--and she can very well come here; no one will know her in thedark, and so she will be quite safe."
Accordingly, on Sunday evening our maid came in to say that Andrew'sdaughter, Mary, and another young woman, were in the hall, and would beglad to see me. And so Mary and Thomas's Sarah were shown in. Mary Iknew well; indeed she had learnt her work with us as under-housemaidbefore she went to Mr. Harmer's. She was a stout, well-made, activegirl, with a good-natured honest face, but I should ha
ve had somehesitation in entrusting any delicate and difficult task to her.Thomas's Sarah, I felt at once, had tact and intelligence sufficient formy purpose, and I was sure that I could trust her, and that she would doexactly for what I required.
Thomas had certainly shown good taste in his selection, for his Sarahwas a very pretty little girl,--a slight active figure, a bright clearcomplexion, brown hair waving back off her forehead, a cheerful smile,large speaking eyes with a little touch of sauciness in them--which Ifancied would sometimes vex and puzzle Thomas, who was a steadymatter-of-fact young groom, not a little--and a very prettily cut noseand mouth. I was altogether very much taken with her appearance.
I asked them to take seats, and Sarah at once began:--
"Miss Ashleigh, I am told by"--and here she paused a little, coloured,and ended by telling a story and saying--"Mary, that I could be ofservice to you. I can only say that I shall be glad to do so by anymeans in my power; we are all at Harmer Place very sorry at your losingyour rights, and should rejoice to see you restored to them."
Sarah expressed herself so well that I was really quite surprised. Ithanked her for her offer, and said, "You can, indeed, do us a servicewhich may turn out of great importance. Now I do not disguise from you,it will cost you your place if you are discovered; but I need not saythat we will take care that you shall be no loser by that. Now I will atonce tell you how we stand at present, and what we want to find out. Weknow, or at least are nearly sure, that the will exists, and that it iswith some other papers large enough to fill a good-sized box. Now westrongly believe that this box is hidden away in a secret room we knowto exist in the house; and what we want to find out is, where is thatsecret room? It must be a pretty good size--I mean much larger than amere closet--because we know people used to lay hid there in old times."Sarah nodded, as much as to say that she had heard legends of the"priest's chamber." "Now, Sarah, the first thing we want to discover isthe whereabouts of this room--and this can only be done in one way. Iwant the exact dimensions--that is to say, the measure, the height,length, and breadth, of every room, passage, closet, and staircase inthe old part of the house; because as this room existed in the old time,it is only in the central part of the house, which was the originalbuilding, that the secret chamber need be looked for. When I have gotall these measurements, and put them all down upon paper, I shall seewhere there is a space to fill up. Do you understand?"
Sarah did not quite understand; so I got a sheet of paper, drew a roughplan of a house, and explained the matter more fully.
Sarah understood now, and at once entered into it with all her heart.
"You see," I said, "we want the exact position of the doors, windows,and chimneys. Here is a small pocket-book and pencil: take one page foreach room; mark down first in this way, the extreme length and breadth,then the positions of the doors and windows thus, and put 'in smallfigures' their distances from each other."
I then showed her a small plan of Harmer Place, which I had drawn frommy recollection of it, and Sarah understood perfectly what she had todo.
"Make a notch the length of a yard on the handle of your broom," I said,"and measure the exact length of the bottom of your apron. With yourbroom you can get the height of the room, and with your apron the othermeasurements, so that you will be able to get all the sizes; and even ifyou are disturbed, no one would have the slightest idea of what you aredoing."
I then asked her to measure the room we were in, and to make a littlesort of plan of it, and I found her so quick and intelligent, that Ifelt certain she would execute her task with sufficient accuracy toenable us to find out where the secret room was situated.
The two girls then took their leave, and I really felt strong hope inthe success of my plan--not indeed that it was mine, for it was Harry'sidea entirely, and I only gave her the instructions he had previouslygiven me.
After this, a small packet arrived every week, sent by Sarah, throughThomas, to his father, containing seven or eight leaves of thepocket-book.
In little more than a month we had all the measurements, and wereenabled to make out the entire plan, in doing which, of course ourprevious knowledge of the house assisted us greatly. Papa assisted me inthis. I had not, at first, told him anything of what I was doing, as Iwished that, in case by any chance my scheme was detected, he should beable to say that he knew nothing about it. At last, however, I wasobliged to let him into the secret, and when I told him, he was verymuch interested and pleased; and I do not think that I should ever havesucceeded in putting the parts together, and certainly have neverarrived at any accurate conclusion, without his assistance.
When it was done, we found the blank space precisely where we hadanticipated that we should do. It is difficult to explain the exactposition, but I will endeavour to do so.
On entering the house, from the front, one found oneself in a largesquare hall, from one side of which the library opened, and from theother the dining-room. Opposite to the front door was an immensefireplace, in which still stood two large iron dogs, and in which inwinter a great wood fire always blazed; on one side of this fireplace,the grand staircase went up, and on the other a passage led down to aroom which had originally been a drawing-room, but which, from itswindows being at the back of the house, had been long since turned intoa kitchen; the fireplace of this room stood back to back to the one inthe hall. It was in the block contained in the square formed by thebacks of the kitchen and hall, the staircase and the passage, that wecame to the conclusion that the secret room must be, for, even allowingfor immense thickness of masonry, there was yet a large spaceunaccounted for. On the floor above there was also a space, directlyover this, considerably larger than would have been required for thechimneys of the hall and kitchen fire, even had there been two ofthem--which there were not, for Sarah found that the chimney of the hallmade almost a right angle, and ran into the kitchen chimney.
Papa, after going very carefully into the measurements, came to theconclusion that the room itself was situated nearly over the hallfireplace; that it might be some seven or eight feet long, by five orsix wide, and that it could be little over six feet high. He thought itwas approached by some short staircase opening into the hall fireplace,or into one of the bedrooms above, which abutted on the vacant space onthat floor. One of these rooms had been occupied by Herbert Harmer, andthe other had been, and was still, Miss Harmer's room.
Indeed papa suspected both entrances to exist, as by them, in case ofnecessity, provisions could be so much more readily and secretlysupplied, and escape made in some disguise from the one exit, should anentrance be forcibly made at the other.
"All this is mere guesswork, my dear; but when there is so much groundto go upon as we have got, one can guess very closely indeed to thetruth."
"And where should you think, papa, that the entrance is most likely tobe discovered?"
"Most likely in the hall fireplace. The back and sides, if I rememberright, are formed of iron, with rude ornaments upon it. The mantelpiece,too, is of old oak, and is covered with carving; undoubtedly in some ofall this the secret spring is concealed. The hall is the best place totry for another reason; early in the morning, and at various timesindeed, Sarah might search among all these ornaments and knobs for thespring, and if any one came suddenly into the hall, her presence therewould appear only natural; whereas in either of the bedrooms, andespecially that of Mr. Harmer, which is not now in use, she could hardlybe often without exciting suspicion."
Sarah came on the following Saturday evening, and I showed her the planwe had made, and explained to her where we thought the entrance was, andhow she was most likely to find the secret spring.
Sarah was much pleased with the success which had so far attended herefforts, and promised to find the spring if it existed. She said shewould get up half an hour before the other servants, and try every knoband roughness on or near the grate.
However, week after week rolled on, and every Saturday came a message,"No result;" and the week before Christma
s she sent to say she had triedevery possible place, but could not find any signs of it. I sent back inanswer to ask her to try all the stones and bricks as far up the chimneyas she could reach.
With Christmas, Polly came home from school, and this time to stop forgood, for papa could not very well afford to keep her at so expensive aschool as Grendon House; and indeed we wanted her bright face and happylaugh back again among us. Papa's practice was not very lucrative; itwas a large, but not a good-paying one. A great proportion of it layamong the lower classes; in any serious cases among them he was alwaysready to give his time and skill. Indeed for the last three years, sincethere was an apparent certainty that we should be all so handsomelyprovided for, papa had purposely given up much of his paying practice.Many among the upper classes have the habit of calling in a medical manon the slightest pretext, and like him, indeed, to call regularly, andhave an hour's chat on all sorts of subjects; this time papa could notspare, and indeed I know that he said to two or three of his very bestpatients,--
"You have nothing serious the matter with you. All you want is a littleoccasional medicine, and a good chat of a day to do you good and cheeryou up; this I have no time to give you, when I have half a dozen dyingpeople waiting anxiously for me. Send to Harper; he is a clever fellow;knows all about everything; will amuse you more than I do. He has alarge family, and your money will be of use to him. If you get seriouslyill, and want me, I will of course come to you."
So papa had gradually withdrawn himself from much of his payingpractice; he had still an income sufficient to keep us comfortably, butit was not nearly what it had been four or five years before. However,he was quite content to work as he did, giving his skill and time tothose who most required but were least able to pay for them.
Harry came home, too, a little before Christmas. He had finished hislast piece of work, and had now obtained an appointment of L150 a yearto superintend a railway in the course of construction in the north ofIreland.
The evening after Christmas Day I received a note from Sarah, saying,that that morning, she had, in feeling up the chimney, found aprojecting knob immediately behind the mantelpiece; that on pressingthis it went into the wall, and that every time it did so, she couldhear a click, but that she could not find that anything else moved.
"Hurrah, Sarah!" Harry shouted when I read the note aloud; "we are onthe right track. 'The king shall enjoy his own again!'" he sang in hisstentorian way.
"I really do begin to think we are on the track," papa said. "You musttell Sarah that no doubt there is some other spring which must bepressed either together or before or after this; for generally therewere two springs to these old hiding-places, in case one should betouched accidentally."
This I told Sarah, who came on the next Sunday evening to see me. Shehad rather began to despair before; but now that she had found somethingtangible she became quite enthusiastic, and said that she was determinedto find the other spring if she were years engaged in the search. Shewas now certain that we were right, that the secret chamber existed, andthat the entrance was there, of neither of which facts had she beenquite sure in her own mind before.