Deep Moat Grange

by S. R. Crockett

  CHAPTER XXXVI

  THE HOUSE OF DEATH

  (_The last Testimony of Miser Hobby is continued and concluded_)

  "It was in the days after the disappearance of Henry Foster, themail-post carrier between Bewick and Breckonside, that I became awareof the increasing madness of those whom I had so rashly taken under myroof and protection. The younger sisters, especially Honorine, thoughtnothing of standing on walls screaming like peacocks, flapping theirarms, and declaring that they were winged angels, ready on a signalfrom on high to fly upward into the blue. At such times Jeremy wouldtake to his fiddle and lock himself in the top rooms of the house,especially affecting the tower chamber overlooking the Moat. He evenrefused on several occasions to go to work, though the businessindicated was safe and remunerative enough. I had often observed withgreat interest the home coming of young Jamie Caig, of LittleSpringfield, a great taker of grass parks, a mighty dealer inwell-wintered sheep and fat bullocks. On one occasion I watched himall the way from Longtown with the best part of a thousand pounds inhis pockets.

  "I remember that he had on a shiny white mackintosh, and I thought hewould never leave the town, going into all sorts of foolish andexpensive cook shops and toy bazaars to buy trinkets and knick-knacks.

  "Then, after all, at the arch of trees on the Pond Road where the waynarrows, there was no Jeremy--though I knew that the usual boat wasmoored within twenty yards--fifteen to be exact. Thus Caig, theyounger, and his thousand pounds passed unharmed. In the dull light Icould see him put his hand into an open packet of candy and take out apiece to suck it. He went by whistling, mocking at me, as itwere--only that he was such a grown-up babe.

  "But there was worse to come. At some risk to myself I followedbehind. He never even looked over his shoulder, only quickening hispace as he got near to the tumble-down, out-at-elbows steading ofLittle Springfield which he had leased for himself.

  "The inhabitants, one and all, must have been waiting for young JamieCaig. For before I could turn away a troop of children issued out andrushed at him, taking him by escalade, routed out his pockets, even hiswife and sisters taking part, and he all the time laughing. I neversaw a more disgusting sight in my life.

  "That night I broke in the door of Jeremy's room where he sat playingon the flute, and, with a revolver in one hand to keep him in awe, Ithrashed him severely about the neck and shoulders with my cane. Hissister said that it was the only way to teach him obedience.

  "Indeed, Miss Orrin was a sensible woman, and at this time remained myonly stand-by. So long as I supported the mad troop, I could countupon her, even though it perilled her soul. She aided me with herbrother also, and from her I learned a thing about Jeremy which, thoughI am generally brave enough, I will admit disquieted me.

  "Jeremy had taken to digging under the lily roots with his fingernails, and when checked for it by his sister, he said that he wanted tosee whether Lang Hutchins, Harry Foster, and the others were 'comingup.' He added that there would be a resurrection some day, and he wasscratching to see how soon it would happen. He did not want it to comeunawares, when he was asleep, for instance.

  "And he made even my well-trained blood run cold by laughing withchuckling pleasure, declaring that 'when they stick their headsthrough, Jeremy will be on hand to do his wark a' ower again! He willtwine a halter round their necks as they are sproutin' and fill theirmouths fu' o' clay. Then Jeremy will defy even Aphra to gar them riseagain. There's nae word o' twa resurrections, ye ken! So Jeremy willdo for them that time!'

  "At other seasons, especially after he had been punished for scratchingin the soil, he would cry like a child. He generally did this whenAphra whipped him. But in half an hour I would find him again amongthe lily beds, his hands all bound up in fingerless gloves, but his earclose down against the earth.

  "'Wheesht--wheesht!' he would whisper, putting up a linen-wrapped stumpto stay me. 'Listen to them knocking--they are knocking to get oot.Jeremy can hear them!'

  "And though I raised him with the toe of my boot and made him be offinto the house, yet his words shook my nerves so that I had to go intothe weaving-chamber, where I was not myself till I had taken a goodlong spell at the loom.

  "After some of the later disappearances, notably that of HarryFoster--for, as he was in some sort a public servant wearing a uniform,the postman's case received attention out of all proportion to itsimportance--the police would come about us, asking questions and takingdown notes and references. There was nothing serious in that, though Iwas even asked to justify my _alibi_ by giving the employ of my timeduring the day previous to 'the unfortunate occurrence'--unfortunate,indeed, for me and for all concerned--Harry Foster included. As,however, I had both lunched and supped with my old friend and lawyer,Mr. Gillison Kilhilt, and afterwards slept at his house, I could nothave been more innocent if I had done the same with the Queen herself,God bless her!

  "But it was not the police, rate-supported and by law established (whomI have always encouraged and aided in every possible way, entertainingthem, and facilitating their researches and departures), that annoyedme. The little, mean, paltry spying of Breckonside and theneighbourhood was infinitely more difficult to bear.

  "For instance, there was a boy--a youth, I suppose I should callhim--one Joseph Yarrow, upon whose rich father I had long had my eye.If it had not been that he generally came in the company of my owngranddaughter Elsie, his neck would soon enough have been twisted. Butas it was, he put us to an enormous amount of trouble. One never knewwhen he would be spying about, and once, by an unfortunate mistake ofmy own, I introduced my granddaughter and this intrusive younggood-for-nothing into a barn of which our mad people had been making akind of chapel of Beelzebub.

  "There was also a High-Church clergyman--a kind of mission priest, Ithink he called himself--come north with a friend to convert theScotch. He took it into his head that, not making great progress withthe sane of the neighbourhood, he might perhaps have better luck withMiss Aphra and her private asylum!

  "And I must say that he had. The processions and peacock screamingswent on, but there was an end of skulls and little coffins andcrossbones knocked together like cymbals as they marched. Instead,they had tables with crucifixes, and confessionals, and all sorts ofparaphernalia in gold lace and tags. Mr. Ablethorpe (that was theHigh-Churchman's name) was pleased and proud. Four at once, sane orinsane, was an unprecedented increase to his scanty flock. And as forhim everything depended upon the proper taking of the sacraments, itwas all right. Honorine and the rest would take them, or anythingelse, twenty times an hour.

  "But in addition there was 'confession,' and you may be sure I wentcarefully into that business with Miss Aphra. However, she reassuredme.

  "'These poor ones' (so she always named her sisters, Honorine, Camilla,and Sidonia) 'know nothing about it. And as for me, I confess onlywhat will not endanger the shelter of the roof which covers us.Because of that I am willing, for some time longer, to retainunconfessed and unforgiven sin on my soul!'

  "This sounded all right to me. But, fool that I was, as usual myconfiding nature put me in danger. If I had suspected that some daythat same Mr. Ablethorpe, whom I had received and warmed like a snakein my bosom, would carry off not only Honorine and her two madcompanions to one of his patent sisterhoods (even Aphra herselffleeing, probably to join them later) leaving me (as I am at present)alone with Jeremy to face the storm--well, I would have nipped in thevery bud the propagation of erroneous and Romanist doctrines. I havealways been conscientiously opposed to these in any case!

  "It was the increasing waywardness of the entire Orrin family whichthreatened to be the ruin of all my carefully planned scheme. If onlyI could have kept them as I first got them--Jeremy docile andcomparatively easy of influence even in his hours of wildness, Aphrasage and wise in counsel, with a firm hand over the others, and allthat property of Deep Moat Grange so excellently laid out, as if onpurpose for our operations!

  "But, alas! Foll
y no more than wisdom will stand still. If only theyhad been like my web, full of subtle combinations and devices whichnone could work out in full beauty save myself, yet abiding still andwaiting for my hand without the changing of a stitch! The Orrins wereno more than my loom wherewith to spin gold--but--they would not bideas they were during my absences, however short.

  "The worst of it all was that, having once begun to operate on theirown accounts, though most unfortunately and ill advisedly, they wouldno longer confine themselves to legitimate business. Not only Jeremy,but even Aphra must needs try to realize the most fantastic andimpossible combinations, like some poor drudging weaver who shouldattempt to execute one of my patterns. It was not in them, thehare-brained, mauling crew, and naturally enough they spoiled the web.

  "First of all, there was the affair of that young vagabond's father,the rich shopkeeper at Breckonside--rich, that is, not as I am rich,but rich for a little town village anchored down on a dozen milessquare of fertile lands between the Bewick marshes and the uplands ofCheviot.

  "Now, I had always had it in my head that some day a trifle might bemade out of this Joseph Yarrow, senior. But he was a bold,straight-dealing man, who knew that the nearest bank, or a goodinvestment through his lawyer, was the best way of keeping his headwhole on his shoulders. He went and came ostentatiously along both ourroads, by night or day--it mattered little to him. He had never morethan five shillings and a brass watch in his pockets. All his businesshe did by cheque, and he was not at all ashamed to enter a shop, oreven accost a man on the street of a town where he was known, and askfor the loan of five shillings--which was certain to be returned on themorrow, with a pot of home-made jam or some delicacy from the crowdedshelves of his shop.

  "Most people liked dealing with this man Yarrow. As for me, I nevercould bear him. He had a scornful eye, not questing, like his son's(whose neck I could twist), but merely sneering--especially when, atdistant market towns, he would hear me addressed as 'Laird,' which ismy rightful title. At such times he would smile a little smile thatbit like vitriol, and turn away. And I knew well enough that he wasthinking and saying to himself--'Miser Hobby--Miser Hobby!' Still, hadI had the sense to look at the matter in the right light, this shouldhave cheered me--that he only _despised_ me, I mean. For if JosephYarrow, the cleverest man in all the neighbourhood, was not calling me'Murderer Hobby,' then I was safe from all the rest. But so curious athing is man, and so much harder to bear is scorn than the worstaccusation of crime, that it was often on my tongue tip to jolt hisself-complaisance with a little inkling of the truth.

  "All the same, I laid it all up against him--some day I would catch himcoming home with a goodly sum. So, after long thought, I arranged thata letter should be sent to warn him that one Steve Cairney, a slippery'dealer' who had long owed him a large amount, would be at the LongtownFair to sell horses, and that it was now or never. The thing was true.Nothing, indeed, could be truer. Jeremy was forewarned, and all shouldhave passed off easily and fitly as the drawing on of an old glove.But because that fool Jeremy had seen instruments of music (of which heis inordinately fond) by the score and gross in Yarrow's shop down atBreckonside, he must needs put the man into a cell behind the Monks'Oven, instead of finishing the matter out of hand. Aphra also mixedherself up in the affair, urging Yarrow, who must have had an excellentidea where he was, to sign the cheque they had found on him, as if thatmade any difference! I know a man in Luxembourg who will givetwo-thirds value on a cheque drawn on a sound account, and, inaddition, provide the signature from any reasonable copy. It is neverthe first owners who lose with such things. There were plenty ofYarrow's receipted bills about the house, and there need have been nodifficulty about that. But unhappily I was from home, and soeverything went to pigs and whistles.

  "Then it pleased Miss Orrin to take a violent jealousy of mygranddaughter, Elsie Stennis, and to sequester her somewhere about thepremises, which, of course, brought the storm about our ears in fullforce. With this folly, worse than any crime, I am glad to record thatI had nothing whatever to do. Doubtless the business was carried outby Jeremy under the orders of his sister Aphra. I have at least thisto be thankful for, that as long as I retained the full and entiredirection of affairs Deep Moat Grange might have been called the valeof peace and plenty.

  "Then came Parson Ablethorpe, who in collusion, most likely, with hismissionary associate--De la Poer, I think he calls himself--spiritedoff the women, Aphra last of all. It was a case of rats leaving asinking ship. Had it not been for the loss of Miss Aphra, for whosecharacter I had some respect, I should have been glad to see the lastof them. But as soon as the influence of his sister was removed,Jeremy became wilder and madder than ever. I could see him onmoonlight nights creeping about among the lily clumps, digging here andscraping there, his hands and feet bare and earth-stained. Then,seated tailorwise among the mould, he would play strange music on hisviolin, and laugh. On dark nights it was not much better. I could notsee him, it is true. But I could hear him digging and panting like awild beast, or laughing to himself, and then stopping suddenly tocroon, 'Down Among the Dead Men!'"

  * * * * *

  "This," said Mr. Fiscal McMath, "is the last entry in what purports tobe a narrative or diary." He turned to another leaf left behind in thehouse and recovered by the searchers.

  "Ah," he said, "here is yet another paragraph. It is dated 'February10, morning," and runs as follows: "'Came home to an empty house.Jeremy madder than ever, playing and laughing about the house--nothingto eat. Dined with Ball at the bailiff's cottage. I did not like theway Jeremy looked at me when I refused him money. But it is he or Ifor the mastery. In case of anything happening, the lines which followcontain my last will and testament: I die at peace with all men, and Ileave everything of which I die possessed to my granddaughter, ElsieStennis!

  "(Signed) "HOWARD (sometimes called Hobby) STENNIS."

  "The wretch! The villain! The robber!" cried Aphra Orrin, for amoment forgetting her role of penitent--"to take from us who earned inorder to give all to a stranger!"

  "Elsie will never touch a penny of it!" I shouted, but my voice waslost in the universal howl.

  "The woman stands fully committed--take her away!" cried the sheriff.

  He had glanced at his watch. It was in fact, long past his dinnerhour! As if moved by his hand policemen rapidly displaced the twoclergymen, and Aphra disappeared down a flight of stairs to the cellsbelow.

  But, curiously enough, the mob had no thought of her. The reading ofHobby Stennis' confession--so ghastly, perverted, cold-blooded, dead toall moral sense, even triumphant, ending with the will which gaveeverything to Elsie--had so incensed the people that there was a rushwhen a kind of crack-witted preaching man from Bewick shouted, "Make anend, ye people, make an end! Let none of the viper's brood escape!She is a woman, this Elsie, and will breed the like--murderers andmonsters every one! She is a Stennis, and we have had enough of such.To Breckonside! To the Bridge End! Find the heiress, chosen as thefittest to succeed the man-slayers and make an end! Hang her quick toa tree!"

  I could now see what my father had meant by leaving the place sohurriedly. Mr. Ablethorpe, who knew, had warned him of what wascoming. And that, as there was no other outlet for the passions of theangry mob, Elsie might be in some temporary danger of violence and illusage, if of nothing worse. Therefore, he had hurried off, taking RobKingsman with him. As for me, even while thinking these thoughts, Iwas swept out of the doorway, and carried along by the throng, my feetscarcely touching the ground. The mob, chiefly rough Bewick miners andlabourers, took the road toward the Bridge End of Brecksonside at atrot, bawling "Death and vengeance!" against all of the blood ofStennis.

  And there was now but one of that name and race--Elsie!