CHAPTER VIII
THE DEEPS OF HELL
Your Heroes of Romance from time immemorial have generally been largemen, more or less handsome, superlatively strong, void of all fear,stalwart of body and steadfast of mind; moreover, being singled out bya hard fate to endure much and often, they suffer, unflinchingly anduncomplainingly, to extremity, like the heroes they are. To be sure,under great stress of mental or even bodily anguish, they aresometimes allowed to sigh, to tremble, or even emit an occasionalgroan, but tears, it seems, are a weakness forbidden them.
All of which foregoing is to lend additional point to the fact that inmy last chapter I leave myself huddled miserably in my chair anddissolved in bitter tears; which of itself should sufficientlypreclude the remotest possibility of my reader ever mistaking me for ahero, even if Nature had not done this already.
Behold me then, a high-strung, delicate, hysterical youth, weeping inan agony of shameful horror evoked of a perfervid imagination.
O Imagination! Whoso is possessed of thee is cursed or blessed by afearful magic whereby the misty vision becomes real, unworthysuspicion changed to hateful certainty, the vague idea into a livinghorror to haunt us day and night until sweet Reason shrinks appalled;by imagination we may scale the heights of heaven or plumb the foulestdeeps of hell.
So I, being not in the least like a Hero of Romance, wept miserably,staring through tears upon a countryside bathed in the glory ofsunset; but to my jaundiced vision this radiance but made mycircumambient shadow the blacker by contrast, a mephitic gloom whereina chaise with red wheels bore Diana to her "slave and master"--amaster whose power was such that he could force her, willing orunwilling, to obey his summons--his every behest ... horror onhorror ... shame on shame, until my mind reeled sick with loathing.
And she who had driven with the profligate Danby to God alone knewwhat infamy--even she would return to act for me her part of sorrowingwonder--to weep and sigh. Oh, shameful hypocrisy! And with her wouldbe my aunt and uncles to wonder also and shake grave heads over me,torturing me with their love while in my consciousness gnawed thisundying horror that, like a demon raged within me, passioning forutterance, insomuch that day or night I had dreaded lest I babble theobscenities that haunted me. Better to die than speak! A bullet wouldbe quick, as Anthony had said--and I had no fire arms! But Iremembered that in the kitchen downstairs I had seen a pistol hung upin a dark corner and above the mantel hung George's bayonet, at whosekeen point lay silence and oblivion; and this thought had in it adegree of comfort as I sat crouched in my chair, half-blinded by myunheroic tears.
The sun had set, the blackbird had ended his song, for evening wasfalling apace; against the glimmering dusk bats wheeled and hovered,and as the shadows deepened I watched the stars shine forth, while lowdown in the darkening sky was an effulgence that marked the risingmoon.
Suddenly I arose, moved by a dominating purpose, kicked off myslippers, struggled into my boots and, taking surtout and hat, stroderesolutely downstairs; by good hap there chanced to be nobody in thekitchen and, crossing to a certain corner, I took from the wall asmall but serviceable-looking pistol, and having assured myself thatit was primed and loaded, I slipped it into my pocket and stepped outinto the fragrant dusk.
But as I crossed the yard, George suddenly emerged from the stables.
"Lord, Mr. Vereker, sir!" he exclaimed, touching an eyebrow.
"Any one about, George?"
"Nary a soul, sir--'cept me an' my little old woman. But 'bout a hourago Mr. Anthony's lady rides up, all a-tremblin' an' pale--an' nowonder, poor soul, seein' Mr. Anthony galloped off lookin' like adevil an' a bottle o' my brandy in 'is pocket!"
"Had Mrs. Vere-Manville come to find him, George?"
"No, sir! He'd been gone a good 'arf-hour afore she came. 'O George,'says she, all a-gaspin' like, 'is Miss Lovel 'ere?' 'Upstairs along o'Mr. Vereker, ma'm,' I says. 'Oh, I must see her--I must see her!'cries she, a-shakin' wuss'n ever, so that I was afeard she'd fall off'er 'oss an' 'im that gentle! 'Can I 'elp you ma'm?' says I. 'No!'says she, moanin' an' breathless-like. 'Oh, no, George--nobody can, OGod, 'elp me, God 'elp me!' An' then, sir, down comes Miss Lovel an'runs to 'er. 'Why, Babs!' says she, anxious-like. 'Oh, what is it,dearest?' At this, Mr. Anthony's lady begins to sob--'eart-breakin',sir! 'O Di,' says she, all wildlike, 'O Di dear, 'e wants me! 'E saysI must go--to-night--an' I'm afraid.' So Miss Lovel, she kisses 'eran' they whisper together. Then Miss Lovel calls for 'er 'oss, an'away they ride very close together, an' Miss L.'s arm about 'er. Lord,sir, who'd a thought it o' Mr. Anthony? So wild an' fierce-like 'ewere--enough to fright any woman, 'specially such a beautiful, gentlecreetur' as 'is wife! Drink 's a fearsome thing!"
"True, George. But Mr. Anthony would die rather than harm her, I amsure."
"Maybe, sir--but 'e looked 'orrible wild an' fierce when 'e rodeoff--an' drink du be a tur'ble thing."
"Now--touching a chaise, George--"
"Chaise, sir?"
"A black chaise picked out in yellow, with red wheels. You have seensuch drive up to Raydon Manor, yonder, you told me once, I think?"
"I did, sir, an' I 'ave--frequent! It do have drove up theer this veryevening. But Lord, Mr. Vereker, be you a thinkin' o' walkin' out--an'night comin' on?"
"I am, George."
"'T will be dark soon, sir. And you 'ardly yourself, yet!"
"No, George, there will be a moon."
"But, sir, wot am I to tell your lady aunt?"
"That I have taken a walk in quest of my health--and sanity, George."
"Be you a-goin' fur, sir?"
"No further than I need."
"Then I think I'll go along wi' you, sir."
"No, George, I may be back before the moon is up. At least--no, itwill be high-risen when I return, most likely. Only pray assure myaunt that I am doing the very best for myself." So saying, I left thefaithful George staring after me and shaking dubious head.
I walked at a leisurely pace, deliberating how best to contrive thedesperate task I had set myself to accomplish, how best to bring it toa final and certain issue.
And presently up came the moon in glory and I stared up at her as onedoes who may behold her perhaps for the last time. Calm and serene shearose, and as I walked amid this tender light, I seemed to breathe insomething of her passionless serenity and knew a strange exaltation ofmind, placid and untroubled. Gone were my fever dreams, the foulhorrors that had haunted me, and my obscene demons were vanishedutterly away and with them, as it seemed, the inertia of my latesickness.
To die, and in so doing take evil with me, leaving the world so muchthe better? To die, and perhaps find for myself that oblivion, thatuntroubled rest that I so earnestly desired? Surely Death, after all,was the Great Good Thing? So I walked on at leisurely pace, serene,assured and utterly content.
Reaching the high road, I followed it until I espied a rutted bywaybounded on the one hand by lofty trees and on the other by a high andsinister wall. At the same leisurely pace I strolled down this darklane and thus arrived at a pair of tall and very massive iron gates.
Here I paused, and though the adjacent trees cast much shadow,presently discovered a bell handle to which I applied myselfforthwith.
After some delay the door of the lodge opened and a figure appeared,though strangely vague and indistinct and then, peering at me throughthe bars of the gate, I saw a gigantic negro, his skin as black as hislivery.
"Is your master in?" I demanded.
"Who yo' mean--mah master?" he replied in surly tone.
"I wish to see Mr. Haredale or Captain Danby."
"No sich names hyah!"
"Well then, I want Mr. Trenchard."
"Who's yo' se'f to see Mas'r Trenchard?"
"I am an--acquaintance of his."
"Well, ah don' know yo' face, so ah guess dey's bof' out fo' you an'so's yo'se'f--an' can stay out, fo' shure." Having said which, thenegro laughed shrilly, and I saw the flash of his teeth ere hedeparted.
Balked thus
but determined as ever, I turned away and began to followthe wall, looking for a place where I might climb it by means of sometree or rise in the ground. And with every step the sudden convictionI had formed that Trenchard was Haredale grew stronger; and Haredale,as I knew, was but another name for that evil rogue whose name hadonce been Devereux.
I went slowly, scanning every yard of the wall for a likely place, nowin brilliant moonlight, now in shadow, while stronger and strongerwaxed my determination that, supposing Trenchard were Devereux indeed,I would this night rid the world of him once and for all.
Presently, as I went, resolutely seeking a way to come at my desire, Ifound myself stumbling amid the dense gloom of tall trees; but Ipushed on until before me, the moon being now high-risen, I saw theblackness cleft by a shaft of radiance and, coming nearer, stopped allat once to scowl at a small door in the wall that seemed to scowl backat me between deep buttresses.
Now suddenly, as I stood thus, I heard a sound of steps and voices onthe other side of the wall, a key was thrust into the lock of thisdoor, and instinctively I shrank back and back into the gloom of thetrees; I heard the key turn, the drawing of heavy bolts, and then, asI crouched, hand upon the weapon in my pocket, the door opened.
And now at last I knew why this door had haunted my dreams, a thing ofunutterable evil for, from beneath its frowning shadow, out into themoonlight, stepped Diana.
She was shrouded in a long, hooded cloak, but my sickened senses knewher even before she put back the hood to glance stealthily about her,like the shameful, guilty thing she was. Suddenly she shrank,cowering, as upon the air broke a strange, inarticulate cry that Iknew for my own; an unseen hand plucked her back, the door closed, waslocked and swiftly bolted, and I heard the sound of running feet.
And now, all too late, I sprang to smite this accursed door withmaddened fists, to beat it with pistol butt and utter incoherentshouts and ravings. All at once my arm was in a powerful grip, thepistol twisted out of my hold and I glared up into the face ofAnthony. His hat was gone, he swayed gently on his feet, and when hespoke his voice was hoarse and indistinct.
"What's t' do, old fellow--dev'lish din you're making--most infernal.Won't they open th' curst door t' ye then, Perry? Well--nevermind--take a pull at this--nothing like brandy--"
From capacious pocket he drew forth a bottle and held it towards me,which I forthwith dashed against the wall.
"And now," said I, "give me the pistol!"
"What for?" he demanded, sobered a little.
"Because I purpose to shoot him."
"Who, Perry?"
"Trenchard or Haredale or Devereux or whatever he calls himself. Come,give me the pistol. To-night I make an end of him and his deviltriesonce and for all."
For a moment Anthony blinked at me in foolish amaze.
"Why, Perry--why, Perry!" he exclaimed. "B'gad, can this be youindeed?" And then, as if quite sobered by what he read in my face, hefell back a step, brushed hand across his eyes, peered at me again,and his slouching figure grew erect and purposeful.
"Give me that pistol!" I repeated.
"No, Peregrine!" said he, his voice sharp and incisive. "Killing ismurder, and I am your friend. But if you wish to fight a fellow, orsay twenty fellows, b'gad, I'm with you! The more the merrier--sospeak the word!"
"Yes!" said I. "Yes, I'll fight, but kill him I will--it almost seemspreordained that I should kill him from the beginning--"
"And whom did you say he was, Perry?"
"Trenchard he calls himself hereabouts--the damnable villain who liveshere at Raydon Manor."
"A duel!" quoth Anthony, smiling grimly. "If you fight, Perry, Ifight; b' God, I'll find somebody to accommodate me one way oranother--a duel, oh, most excellent! Ha, dooce take me, but you'reright, Perry, I never thought o' this. Oh, damme, the very thing--I'mwith you heart and soul, dear fellow, so come on."
So saying, he ran at the wall and, leaping with long arms at fullstretch, gripped the coping with iron fingers, drew himself up andreaching long arm down, had swung me up beside him, all in a moment.
"Ha, Perry!" he exclaimed, as we prepared to drop into the gardenbelow, "I'm a curst, dull-witted ass--here have I been sedulouslyguzzling ale, rum, brandy and dooce knows how many kinds of wine, andwhat I really needed was blood, d'ye see? Blood, old fellow, no matterwhose. And, begad, blood we'll have to-night, Perry, or know thereason why. Come on, old fellow, both together--now!"
Down he leapt and down I scrambled, and side by side we advancedtowards the house that held for me all the nauseous evil andunspeakable shame of all the world.
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