The Broken Thread

by William Le Queux

it that when the lamp is lit no light can be seen from without."

  "Is that all you want. Master Raife? I'll see to that sure enough.When do you want the room, sir?"

  Raife replied: "I want to go up there now, but you can see to the otherthings later."

  "Yes, sir. I don't know whether the room be tidy or no, but come alongo' me."

  They went up a wide staircase with twisted solid oak balustrades, to awide landing on the first floor. The old man produced a bunch of largekeys which jingled until he found one to fit the rusty lock, whichturned with difficulty. The door creaked when it reluctantly opened,and they entered together. A faded scent of lavender met them. Ayellow film of warm sunlight filtered through the white blinds that hungfrom the bay window. A white drugget covered the faded carpet, whichshowed slightly at the edges a dull crushed pink. A huge four-postwooden bedstead hung with white dimity. A white ceiling surmounted, anda white wall paper, with pale pink roses confined within verticalstripes of dull yellow, surrounded the room. Two ancient high-backedchairs covered in holland, and a more modern deep-set, low-lyingarm-chair, covered in the same material, faced a huge fireplace ofshining black metal. Fire-dogs, fender and fire-irons hammered fromsteel. A vast copper coal-scuttle of simple, almost crude shape, wellcharged with coal, stood at the side of the white supports of a deepwhite mantel-shelf.

  There were no pictures on the walls. White candelabra and china vasesof quaint shape stood before a small, and very imperfect, mirror on themantel-shelf. Long white curtains hung in front of the bay window. Thewhole effect of this big white room, bathed in a warm glow of filteredsunlight, was startling. To Raife it was soothing. Twisegood crossedto pull up the blinds.

  "Don't do that," Raife said, as he walked to yet another white curtainwhich screened a small door. The key was in the door. He opened it.It led to a narrow winding stairway with a strong oak door at thebottom. He called to Twisegood for the key. The stairs creaked as theburly old man descended and placed the key in the lock and turned it."That will do. Give me the key. Have the lock oiled, and buy some softcarpet and put it on this stairway. This leads into the loose box,doesn't it? or have you altered the stalls lately?"

  "No, sir! They be just the same as when you stayed here last, sir."

  They ascended the crooked stairway, returning to the white room. Raifestood in front of the fireplace gazing at a small miniature on themantel-shelf. At a glance it appeared to be the only pictorial ornamentin the room. Neatly framed in a thin ebony oval was the most beautifulenamel of a woman's face in high, powdered head-dress, and anexquisitely-modelled bust. Raife picked it up and, looking at the backof the frame, read this inscription pasted on:

  To William Twisegood for a brave service rendered.

  "How did you get this, Twisegood?" asked Raife.

  "Why, sir! That be a long time ago, sir, when I wur not more'n a lad.I be older'n wot your father was, and there come along a day when he wordown along the copse by Tyser Wood, and the young master, he was then,and he was a good plucked 'un. He had his gun along o' him and was outafter rabbits just afore the first, when the partridges open the season.I be going along atop among the turmits, when I hears him a orderingsome fellers off his ground. I listens, and presently there's ascuffling. I slips down through all the bracken and bramble, and thereI sees him a scrappin' hard, with all the blood a streaming down hisface. There was Nick Blacker and Bill Boneham, each a holdin' a lurcherdog, whilst Nick's three sons was a pasting the young master as hard asthey could. But they wasn't a getting all their own way, for he wasmighty quick with his fists, was Master Harry. They didn't see me acoming. I ups with a couple of bits o' rock-stone and I aims at Dick.I hits him clean and down he goes. I 'as a stout ash stick in my 'andand I rushes up to Bill. Before he has time to know wot's up, I landshim a good 'un. Then I shouts to make believe that there's others acoming. Nick gets up and off they all start on a full run.

  "Well, Master Harry! he was young those days, and thought I was brave.So he gave me that miniature and told me as 'ow it was his grandmother.But bless yer, Master Raife, that wasn't all he gave me."

  The old man stopped for want of breath. He had lived his fight overagain.

  "Is there anything I can get for you, sir?" he asked.

  "Yes, Twisegood, have you got any of Mrs Twisegood's home-made winesleft?"

  "Why, yes, sir. 'Twouldn't be the old `Blue Boar,' if we hadn't gotsome of that. Or would you rather have some of her sloe gin? That wasa drink of the old coaching and posting days. Try some, sir."

  "All right, thanks, bring me some of that."

  Raife sat in the deep arm-chair and his mind was a whirlwind of mixedthought and emotion. On the one hand, the mystery of his father'smurder had not been revealed at the inquest. Nor had any light beenthrown upon his father's dying words--that cryptic utterance which rangin his ears with a dull insistence that maddened him.

  "Tell him to be careful--to be wary of the trap--every man has askeleton in his cupboard--this is mine." Then those last three fatefulwords: "her--that woman." Who is that woman? If he only knew. Hisfather fought three lads in the copse at Tyser Wood, as he had justlearnt from Twisegood: that was easy. To fight an unknown woman, to bewary of a trap--that is hard.

  The full force of an August sun still bathed the world in its gloriouslight, and the warm glow came through those drawn white blinds of thismysterious white room. In spite of that, Raife shivered.

  Old Mr Twisegood returned with the sloe gin. Raife said: "Althoughit's August and the sun is shining, I feel cold. Let us light thatfire." Soon the hearth roared with crackling flames, and Raife was leftto himself and his troubled thoughts.

  The white room of the "Blue Boar" had been famous for many generations.The secret stairway leading into the loose box in the stable had formedthe means of many an escapade, and young Sir Raife was very familiarwith its possibilities.

  To-day he merely wanted to reflect, and the peaceful atmosphere andgeneral air of quietude suited his mood.

  CHAPTER SIX.

  IN THE SOUTHERN LAND OF ADVENTURE.

  Raife's passion for Gilda had been as sudden as it was fierce, and here,in the solitude of this strange white room, he allowed his pent-upfeelings to obtain the mastery of him. Twisegood having closed thedoor, Raife paced up and down the long room with rapid strides,reiterating his admiration for her beauty. At length, he decided toreturn to Aldborough Park. On his way he sent a telegram and eagerlyawaited a reply on the following morning, but no reply arrived.

  The thousand and one details that surround the funeral of the head of anold family are very trying to those who are responsible for the dignityof the function and its safe conduct. Raife had been sorely tried inhis position as the new head of the family.

  At last the ceremony was completed and most of the mourners had returnedto their homes. With a haste that attracted attention, at least, insome quarters, he went to Southport, and then called at the "Queen's,"and, having asked for Miss Tempest, was rather surprised when thehall-porter handed him a note. He hastily tore it open and read:

  "Dear Mr Remington--Our friendship is forbidden. For your sake--and for mine--forget me.

  "Gilda Tempest."

  The keenness of a young man's passion is only enhanced by obstacles.Mystified and baffled, Raife yet repeated his resolve to find the girlwho had enthralled him.

  Many weeks passed by at Aldborough Park, where the bailiffs and stewardsof the estates foregathered with the solicitors of the family for thepurpose of installing the new regime. Raife was somewhat impatient ofthe tedious nature of much of the work. To get away from the monotony,he hid himself several times in the long white room of the "Blue Boar."

  He was sitting there, one afternoon, deeply abstracted and cursing theluck that had robbed him of that mysterious girl whom he loved, when heheard footsteps on the secret stairway that led to loose box in thestable. Hastily drawing the white curtain aside by opening the lit
tledoor, he was confronted by his old college chum, Edward Mutimer, inwhose company he had been when he met Gilda Tempest.

  "Why," he exclaimed, "what are you doing here, Mutimer?"

  Mutimer laughed, and said: "Well, I went up to the Park, and no one knewwhere to find you. I guessed you were a bit tired of parchments anddocuments, so I took my chance of finding you here. I asked oldTwisegood, but he wouldn't give you away. But, somehow, I thought hismanner was a bit strange, so I thought of the loose box and the oldstairway--and here I am!"

  "Good! I'm glad to see you, Mutimer. You were quite right, I'm tiredto death of parchments, leases and settlements, and I've been cominghere lately to get away from them.