Queensland Cousins

by Eleanor Luisa Haverfield

  CHAPTER IV.

  A NIGHT OF TERROR.

  "Mrs. Orban," called a voice softly--a familiar English-speakingvoice; "Mrs. Orban, are you still up?"

  Mother and son fell apart, and Eustace sprang to his feet.

  "Why, it is Bob!" he exclaimed in bewilderment.

  "Bob!" cried his mother. "Impossible!"

  "Not a bit," said Bob Cochrane, coming round into the streak oflamplight, carrying his boots in his hands. "I just strolled overto see if you were all right. When I got to the steps it struck meI might startle you if I came thundering up, so I took my boots offand crept round to find out where you were. You were so quiet Ithought you must have gone to bed and left the lights burning."

  "We were talking, nevertheless, when you arrived," Mrs. Orban said,"for I was telling Eustace a story."

  "I didn't hear you," Bob said. "Probably my heart was in my mouth,and beating so loud that it deafened me; for, of course, I knew Icarried my life in my hand."

  "Your life in your hand?" repeated Eustace wonderingly.

  "Certainly. I felt sure you would bound on me with a revolver themoment you heard me, shoot me dead, and then demand an explanation.It is the sort of ardent thing one might expect from a knight ofyour order, Sir Eustace."

  Bob's chaff went deeper home than he meant it to. Eustace was in nomood for joking after the strain of the last few minutes. He hopedwith all his heart that Mrs. Orban would not betray to Bob howterror-stricken he had just shown himself. Perhaps she understood,or it may be that she was half ashamed of her own unnecessarypanic, for she only said,--

  "It is really very good of you to have come in the face of thatgrave peril, and at such an hour too."

  "Well, the fact is I wanted to," Bob said in his casual way, "andthe mater insisted. I've left our old foreman sleeping in the housefor to-night, and I thought I would just turn in with Eustace, ifyou don't mind."

  "We shall be simply delighted," Mrs. Orban said, with a feeling ofreal relief.

  "The mater wants me to take you all back to the Highlands earlyto-morrow," Bob went on; "you, Becky, and Eustace. She can't bearto think of your loneliness here. Do come and stay with us till Mr.Orban comes back."

  It was the kind of thought good, homely little Mrs. Cochrane wascelebrated for. But Mrs. Orban shook her head.

  "It is just like your mother to think of such a thing," she said,"and just like her son to be her messenger so readily, but I can'tdo it, Bob. I couldn't possibly leave the maids and the house totake care of themselves. Mary and Kate would be terrified."

  "Oh, bother Mary and Kate!" said Bob.

  "I should be _most_ bothered if they took it into their heads torun away and leave us, especially now that my sister is coming. No,really, I cannot leave home, much as I should enjoy it. Yourmother, as an experienced housekeeper, will feel for me in that."

  "We forgot the maids and the house," said Bob in a disappointedtone.

  "It can't be helped," said Mrs. Orban lightly; "and, indeed, we arequite all right. There is nothing to be afraid of, and I haveEustace.--Which reminds me, old man, hadn't you better be off tobed? This is considerably later than I meant you to be."

  "Oh but, mother," Eustace exclaimed, "what about Aunt Dorothy? Icouldn't sleep without the rest of that story."

  "Oh yes, do let's have the rest of the story first," pleaded Bob.

  "There isn't much left now," said Mrs. Orban. "I was only tellinghim how we once lost Dorothy in a game of hide-and-seek when shewas five years old. We had been hunting the house for hours; a sortof awful silence had fallen among us, as if we were expecting Idon't know what--"

  "When close upon midnight," quoted Eustace in a mysterious voice.

  "There arose the cry of a terror-stricken child--shriek uponshriek--feeble because of the distance it was from the great hall,where we were all mustered in shivering silence, but distinctenough to be recognized as Dorothy's voice. I shall never forgetit--it makes me shudder now--for the panic in that child's cry wasappalling. What was being done to her? What awful pain was she inthat she should shriek in such a way? Such were our thoughts as wehurried in a tumbling mass after father and mother. We reached theturret stairs, and father commanded every one with lanterns to gofirst and light the way. Right to the very top we went, into thelittle round room we called the Watchman's Nest, and here thesounds were loudest; but they were still muffled, and there was nota sign of Dorothy anywhere."

  "Was there any furniture for her to hide in?" asked Eustace,looking puzzled.

  "One table, one chair," said Mrs. Orban, "and a small black oakcupboard against the inner wall--it would have just about heldDorothy on the lower shelf. We opened it, flashed in our lanterns,but it was black and empty. One peculiar feature there was aboutit--when the cupboard door was open we heard the child moreclearly. It seemed a stupid, senseless thing to do, but down I wenton my hands and knees to feel those empty shelves, as if I imaginedDorothy might be there in spite of our seeing nothing--invisiblebut tangible. Of course there was nothing but wood to touch; butwith my head inside there, I could hear Dorothy so well I mighthave been in the same room with her."

  "How queer!" Eustace broke out excitedly.

  "'Dorothy, Dorothy,' I shouted. 'Mother--I want mother, mother,mother,' she shrieked. 'Where are you? Tell us where you are,' Icalled. 'I want mother, mother, mother,' was the only answer.'Mother is here,' I said; and again, 'Tell us where you are.'Something made me feel the cupboard again, and this time I did notonly touch the shelves, but put my hand right back. 'Quick, quick!a lantern,' I simply screamed, and half a dozen were loweredinstantly. There was no back to the cupboard on the lower shelf.The blackness we had mistaken for the old oak was justnothingness--a deep, deep hollow into the wall."

  "Mother," Eustace cried, "a secret chamber!"

  "A secret chamber that no one had ever suspected; and Dorothy itwas who had found it."

  "But how?" The question came from Bob Cochrane.

  "She was the most daring child I have ever known," said Mrs. Orban."I don't think Dorothy knew what fear meant in those days. She knewthat scarcely any one ever searched the turret, because it wasdifficult to get away from, and it entered her small head to creepup to the Watchman's Nest and into this cupboard. Whether she wentto sleep waiting for us to find her, or whether she rolled over atonce and fell down the little flight of steps into the secretchamber, to lie there stunned, no one knows. Dorothy could notexplain herself. Anyhow, there she was, and the moment she came toher senses and found herself in the dark she began to scream withfright."

  "But how was it no one had ever discovered the secret chamberbefore?" demanded Eustace. "It seems funny."

  "You would not think so if you saw the cupboard," Mrs. Orban said."It is a little, insignificant-looking thing--low and rather deep,and, as we then found, built into the wall. The back of the lowershelf was a sliding panel; and your grandfather's theory is thatthe last person who used the secret chamber left the panel open.Without nearly standing on one's head it was impossible to see theback of the lower shelf, and no one had ever suspected such athing."

  "O Bob, Bob, wouldn't you just like to see Maze Court?" criedEustace. "I shall never be happy till I do."

  "I tell you you will all be off on Miss Dorothy's broomstick one ofthese fine days," growled Bob. "She is a witch, and she has alreadybewitched you, for you can talk of nothing but England now."

  "You had better go to bed, Eustace," Mrs. Orban said with a laugh."Bob is getting quite fierce."

  Bob left very early next day to get back to work. As Nesta andPeter were having holidays, Eustace, of course, did no lessons, butspent the day very contentedly helping his mother. She was busyrearranging furniture in the room that was to be Miss Chase's, andthey scarcely sat down the whole day till evening.

  "Early to bed this night, my son," said Mrs. Orban as they left thedinner-table. "I expect you will sleep like a top."

  He was looking sleepy already, and a quarter of an hour later wentvery readily
to his room, with a parting entreaty to his motherthat she would not sit up late.

  "Not I," was the laughing rejoinder. "I promise you I will onlywrite one little line to father and begin my mail letter togrannie, and then I will go to bed."

  This Mrs. Orban did, and being very tired she fell asleep almost assoon as her head touched the pillow.

  For several hours a great silence reigned over the house; but evenwhen it was broken by the soft pad-pad-pad of bare feet creepingstealthily round the veranda, the sleepers lay utterly unconscious.The stairs had not creaked under the weight of this figure; it castno shadows, for there was no light either within the house orwithout. At every window it halted, listened, peered in, as if ithad the eyes of a cat to see with in the dark.

  First came the dining-room, and next it the room in which Eustaceand Peter slept. Round the corner were Mrs. Orban's room and partof the drawing-room. At the other corner was Nesta's room, whereMiss Chase would also sleep, and next to that the servants' room.

  The strange visitor made a complete tour of the veranda and reachedthe stair again.

  Eustace was dreaming vividly. He was out with Nesta and Becky.Becky had been specially entrusted to their care, and they had beentold only to go a little way into the scrub. As a rule the childrenwere not allowed to go into the scrub without a grown-up in charge,for there were dangers among the thick bushy undergrowth known bythis odd name. For one thing, snakes abounded there; for another,it was only too easy to lose one's bearings, wander farther andfarther into the wood, and eventually die of thirst andstarvation, utterly unable to find the way home again. To Eustace'sdistraction, in his dream Becky would insist on playinghide-and-seek, and kept constantly disappearing and returning,flitting on in front of them now and again like a will-o'-the-wisp.

  "We mustn't let her do it," Eustace exclaimed. "Run, Nesta; we mustcatch her."

  But the faster they ran, the farther Becky went; it wasextraordinary how fast she could go.

  "I can't keep up," Nesta panted.

  "Just like a girl," puffed Eustace back, for he was gettingexhausted himself.

  Then Becky disappeared right out of sight, and though Eustacecalled her till the echoes rang again and again with her name,there came no answer.

  "Now I guess we shall all be lost," thought Eustace desperately.

  He was rushing madly hither and thither, when suddenly he heard ablood-curdling yell not very far off. It was followed by anotherand another, till his heart stood still with terror.

  "Of course," he said, pulling himself together with all his might,"she must be in the secret chamber. I never thought of that."

  But even as the notion flashed into his mind he knew how silly itwas to think of a secret chamber in the Bush. He was so paralyzedby the awfulness of the sounds that for a moment he could not move;but at last, with a mighty effort, he forced himself to dartforward in the direction whence the cries came.

  A second later he was fighting blindly with some thing that clungunpleasantly to him. It took him a moment to realize that this wasthe mosquito net round his bed. He was out on the floor in his ownroom at home. He had been dreaming, and was now awake; but thescreams continued, and were most horribly real. It was not Becky'svoice--no child could have cried like that.

  There was a door from his room into Mrs. Orban's, and through thisthe boy dashed.

  "Mother, mother," he cried, "what is happening?"

  There was a light in the room. Mrs. Orban was standing with a lookof terror on her face.

  "I don't know," she said unsteadily.

  "It has been going on for ages," Eustace whispered.

  But Mrs. Orban shook her head. "It has only just begun," she said."I must go and see what is the matter."

  Eustace was haunted by his dream--a second in a dream is equivalentto hours of real life.

  "O mother, don't go!" he exclaimed in an agonized voice, and clungto her.

  "I must," was the answer, and gently but firmly Mrs. Orban put theboy from her. "Perhaps one of the servants is ill. At least theyare both frightened, and need me. Stay here with Becky."

  The words were hardly out of her mouth when the door burst open,and in rushed Mary, followed by Kate. Both girls looked half madwith fear.

  "O ma'am, ma'am," they cried, piecing out the tale between them,"there was a black-fellow in our room. He has stolen our watchesfrom under our pillows, and everything he could find before wewoke, and he was pulling the rings off Mary's finger when she felthim and jumped out of bed. But he got the rings, and we don't knowwhere he is--somewhere about the house--and maybe there are otherswith him. O ma'am, whatever shall we do? We shall all be murderedin our beds."

  "Nonsense, you silly girls," said Mrs. Orban, with suddensternness; "we can't possibly be murdered in our beds when we areall out of them."

  Even in the stress of the moment Eustace could not help beingstruck by the humour of the assertion, but he was in no mood forlaughing.

  Creeping to the window, he peered out, to find that it was nolonger pitch dark; there was a sufficient glimmer of light to haveenabled their uninvited guest to do all that the servantsdescribed.

  By this time Becky was awake and howling. Her mother took her intoher arms and soothed her gently.

  "As to what we shall do," Mrs. Orban said in that same firm tone;"we must all stay here till daylight together. If there are thievesabout the house, we can do nothing to check them. They will nothurt us if we don't interfere. There is nothing to be done but tobehave as little like cowards as we can manage."

  "But black-fellows do such--" began Kate.

  "Hold your tongue, Kate," said the usually gentle Mrs. Orban, withsudden anger. "What good can it do to scare yourself and us bytalking in such a way? We are in God's hands, don't forget that."

  "Mother," Eustace said, "has father got his revolver away withhim?"

  "There are two in this room," Mrs. Orban replied. "Could you useone if necessary?"

  "Oh, for mercy's sake don't let Master Eustace have a gun in hishands!" said Mary. "There's no saying which of us he might shoot inmistake if he began playing with one."

  "Playing with one!" repeated Eustace scornfully; "why, father saysmy shooting is very good for my age."

  Mrs. Orban took a revolver from a cupboard and gave it into theboy's hands.

  "It is loaded," she said, and now there was the suspicion of aquiver in her voice; "but realize I am trusting you to be sensible.Don't shoot at random. Remember what Bob said last night. You areonly to fire if terribly necessary. Now jump into Becky's bed, oryou will be getting a chill and fever."

  From beneath her own pillow she drew out a second revolver,examined it, and set it on a table within easy reach.

  "Mother," said Eustace in surprise, "do you always sleep with arevolver under your pillow?"

  "Only when your father is away," was the reply. "Now, Mary andKate, get into my bed. I am going to sit in this cosy chair withMiss Becky. We will talk and keep the light burning; but it is mybelief nothing more will happen to-night."

  The maids obeyed, still looking terrified, and then Mrs. Orbanseated herself, with Becky in her arms, near the table where therevolver lay.

  Thus they prepared to face the remaining hour of darkness,powerless to do anything, utterly helpless, with nerves strung tothe highest possible pitch, and hearts that beat wildly at everysound.