constable."
Claire gazed at him wildly.
"Did--did you hear anything?" he said hurriedly, as he closed thefolding-doors.
"I was asleep," said Claire, starting and shuddering as she heard hiswords. "I thought I heard a cry."
"Yes, a cry," he said; "I thought I heard a cry and I dressed quicklyand was going to see, when--when you came to me. Recollect that youwill be called up to speak, my child--an inquest--that is all you know.You went in and found Lady Teigne dead, and you came and summoned me.That is all you know."
She did not answer, and he once more gripped her fiercely by the wrist.
"Do you hear me?" he cried. "I say that is all you know."
She looked at him again without answering, and he left her to go andsummon Morton and the footman.
Claire stood in the drawing-room, still holding the candlestick in herhand, with the stiffening form of the solitary old woman, whose flame oflife had been flickering so weakly in its worldly old socket that themomentary touch of the extinguisher had been sufficient to put it out,lying just beyond those doors; on the other hand the roar of the fallingtide faintly heard now through the closed window. She heard her fatherknocking at the door of her brother's room. Then she heard the stairscreak as he descended to call up the footman from the pantry below; andas she listened everything seemed strange and unreal, and she could notbelieve that a horror had fallen upon them that should make a hideousgulf between her and her father for ever, blast her young life so thatshe would never dare again to give her innocent love to the man by whomshe knew she was idolised, and make her whole future a terror--a terrorlest that which she felt she knew must be discovered, if she, weak womanthat she was, ever inadvertently spoke what was life and light to her--the truth.
"My God! What shall I do?"
It was a wild passionate cry for help where she felt that help couldonly be, and then, with her brain swimming, and a horrible dread uponher, she was about to open her lips and denounce her own father--the manwho gave her life--as a murderer and robber of the dead. She turned tothe door as it opened, and, deadly pale, but calm and firm now, StuartDenville, Master of the Ceremonies at Saltinville, entered the room.
He uttered a low cry, and started forward to save her, but he was toolate. Claire had fallen heavily upon her face, her hands outstretched,and the china candlestick she still held was shattered to fragments uponthe floor.
At that moment, as if in mockery, a sweet, low chord of music rose fromwithout, below the window, and floating away on the soft night air, theold man felt the sweet melody thrill his very nerves as he sank upon hisknees beside his child.
Volume One, Chapter VI.
A GHASTLY SERENADE.
"Gentlemen," said Colonel Lascelles, "I am an old fogey, and I neverbreak my rules. At my time of life a man wants plenty of sleep, so Imust ask you to excuse me. Rockley shall take my place, and I beg--Iinsist--that none will stir. Smith, send the Major's servant to see ifhe is better."
A smart-looking dragoon, who had been acting the part of butler at themess table, saluted.
"Beg pardon, sir, James Bell is sick."
"Drunk, you mean, sir," cried the Colonel angrily. "Confound thefellow! he is always tippling the mess wine."
"Small blame to him, Colonel," said the Adjutant with tipsy gravity;"'tis very good."
"And disagreed with his master early in the evening," said the Doctor.
Here there was a roar of laughter, in which the greyheaded Coloneljoined.
"Well, gentlemen, we must not be hard," he said. "Here, Smith, mycompliments to Major Rockley, and if he is better, say we shall be gladto see him."
"Beg pardon, sir," said the man, "here is the Major."
At that moment the gentleman in question entered the room, and thebrilliant illumination of the table gave a far better opportunity forjudging his appearance than the blind-drawn gloom of Lady Teigne'sdrawing-room. He was a strikingly handsome dark man, with a fierceblack moustache that seemed to divide his face in half, and then stoodout beyond each cheek in a black tuft, hair highly pomatumed and curled,and bright black eyes that seemed to flash from beneath his ratheroverhanging brows. Five-and-thirty was about his age, and he looked itall, time or dissipation having drawn a good many fine lines, liketracings of future wrinkles, about the corners of his eyes and mouth.
"Colonel--gentlemen, a hundred apologies," he said. "I'm not oftentaken like this. We must have a fresh mess-man. Our cooking isexecrable."
"And your digestion so weak," said the Doctor, sipping his port.
"There, there," said the Colonel hastily. "I want to get to bed. Takemy place, Rockley; keep them alive. Good-night, gentlemen; I knowyou'll excuse me. Good-night."
The Colonel left his seat, faced round, stood very stiffly for a fewmoments, and then walked straight out of the room, while Major Rockley,who was still far from sober, took his place.
A good many bottles of port had been consumed that night, for in thosedays it was an English gentleman's duty to pay attention to his port,and after turning exceedingly poorly, and having to quit the table, theMajor began by trying to make up for the past in a manner that would nowbe classed as loud.
"Gentlemen, pray--pray, pass the decanters," he cried. "ColonelMellersh, that port is not to your liking. Smith, some more claret?Mr Linnell, 'pon honour, you know you must not pass the decanterwithout filling your glass. Really, gentlemen, I am afraid our guestsare disappointed at the absence of Colonel Lascelles, and because acertain gentleman has not honoured us to-night. A toast, gentlemen:HRH."
"HRH" was chorused as every officer and guest rose at the dark,highly-polished mahogany table, liberally garnished with decanters,bottles, and fruit; and, with a good deal of demonstration, glasses werewaved in the air, a quantity of rich port was spilled, and the fact wasmade very evident that several of the company had had more than wouldleave them bright and clear in the morning.
The mess-room of the Light Dragoon Regiment was handsome and spacious;several trophies of arms and colours decorated the walls; that unusualmilitary addition, a conservatory, opened out of one side; and in it,amongst the flowers, the music-stands of the excellent band that hadbeen playing during dinner were still visible, though the bandsmen haddeparted when the cloth was drawn.
The party consisted of five-and-twenty, many being in uniform, withtheir open blue jackets displaying their scarlet dress vests with theridge of pill-sized buttons closely packed from chin to waist; andseveral of the wearers of these scarlet vests were from time to timepouring confidences into their neighbours' ears, the themes being two:"The cards" and "She."
"Colonel Mellersh, I am going to ask you to sing," said Major Rockley,after taking a glass of port at a draught, and looking a little lesspale.
He turned to a striking-looking personage at his right--a keen,aquiline-featured man, with closely-cut, iron-grey hair, decisive,largish mouth with very white teeth, and piercing dark-grey eyes whichhad rather a sinister look from the peculiarity of his fierce eyebrows,which seemed to go upwards from where they nearly joined.
"I'm afraid my voice is in no singing trim," said the Colonel, in aquick, loud manner.
"Come, no excuses," cried a big heavy-faced, youngish man from thebottom of the long table--a gentleman already introduced to the readerin Lady Teigne's drawing-room.
"No excuse, Sir Matt," cried the Colonel; "only an apology for thequality of what I am about to sing."
There was a loud tapping and clinking of glasses, and then the Coloneltrolled forth in a sweet tenor voice an anacreontic song about women,and sparkling wine, and eyes divine, and flowing bowls, and joyoussouls, and ladies bright, as dark as night, and ladies rare, as brightas fair, and so on, and so on, the whole being listened to with thedeepest attention and the greatest of satisfaction by a body ofgentlemen whose thoughts at the moment, if not set upon women and wine,certainly were upon wine and women.
It was curious to watch the effect of the song upon the occupants of
thedifferent chairs. The Major sat back slightly flushed, gazing straightbefore him at the bright face he conjured up; Sir Matthew Bray leanedforward, and bent and swayed his great handsome Roman-looking head andbroad shoulders in solemn satisfaction, and his nearest neighbour, SirHarry Payne, the handsome, effeminate and dissipated young dragoon,tapped the table with his delicate fingers and showed his white teeth.The stout Adjutant bent his chin down over his scarlet waistcoat andstared fiercely at the ruby scintillations in the decanter before him.The gentleman on his left, an insignificant-looking little civilian withthin, fair hair, screwed up his eyes and drew up his lips in what mighthave been a smile or a sneer, and stared at the gentleman on the Major'sleft, holding himself a little sidewise so as to
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