by Bram Stoker
“The Baron Stoltmayor, of Saltsomething, has come to look at the premises.”
This announcement was received with all due deference and respect, and the task of showing the baron the premises at once fairly commenced.
“Here you have,” said Mr. Leek, assuming an oratorical attitude — ”here you have the umbrageous trees stooping down to dip their leaves in the purling waters; here you have the sweet foliage lending a delicious perfume to the balmy air; here you have the murmuring waterfalls playing music of the spheres to the listening birds, who sit responsive upon the dancing boughs; here you have all the fragrance of the briny ocean, mingling with the scent of a bank of violets, and wrapping the senses in Elysium; here you may never tire of an existence that presents never-ending charms, and that, in the full enjoyment of which, you may live far beyond the allotted span of man.”
“Enough — enough,” said the baron.
“Here you have the choicest exotics taking kindly to a soil gifted by nature with the most extraordinary powers of production; and all that can pamper the appetite or yield delight to the senses, is scattered around by nature with a liberal hand. It is quite impossible that royalty should come near the favoured spot without visiting it as a thing of course; and I forgot to mention that a revenue is derived from some cottages, which, although small, is yet sufficient to pay the tithe on the whole estate.”
“There, there — that will do.”
“Here you have purling rills and cascades, and fish-ponds so redundant with the finny tribe, that you have but to wish for sport, and it is yours; here you have in the mansion, chambers that vie with the accommodation of a palace — ample dormitories and halls of ancient grandeur; here you have — ”
“Stop,” said the baron, “stop; I cannot be pestered in this way with your description. I have no patience to listen to such mere words — show me the house at once, and let me judge for myself.”
“Certainly, sir; oh! certainly; only I thought it right to give you a slight description of the place as it really was: and now, sir, that we have reached the house, I may remark that here we have — ”
“Silence!” said the baron; “if you begin with here we have, I know not when you will leave off. All I require of you is to show me the place, and to answer any question which I may put to you concerning it. I will draw my own conclusions, and nothing you can say, one way or another, will affect my imagination.”
“Certainly, sir, certainly; I shall only be too happy to answer any questions that may be put to me by a person of your lordship’s great intelligence; and all I can remark is, that when you reach the drawing-room floor, any person may truly say, here you have — I really beg your pardon, sir — I had not the slightest intention of saying here you have, I assure you; but the words came out quite unawares, I assure you.”
“Peace — peace!” cried again the baron; “you disturb me by this incessant clatter.”
Thus admonished, Mr. Leek was now quiet, and allowed the baron in his own way to make what investigation he pleased concerning Anderbury House.
The investigation was not one that could be gone over in ten minutes; for the house was extremely extensive, and the estate altogether presented so many features of beauty and interest, that it was impossible not to linger over it for a considerable period of time.
The grounds were most extensive, and planted with such a regard to order and regularity, everything being in its proper place, that it was a pleasure to see an estate so well kept. And although the baron was not a man who said much, it was quite evident, by what little he did utter, that he was very well pleased with Anderbury-on-the-Mount.
“And now,” said Mr. Leek, “I will do myself the pleasure, sir, of showing your grace the subterranean passage.”
At this moment a loud ring at one of the entrance gates was heard, and upon the man who had charge of the house answering the summons for admission, he found that it was a gentleman, who gave a card on which was the name of Sir John Westlake, and who desired to see the premises.
“Sir John Westlake,” said Mr. Leek; “oh! I recollect he did call at my office, and say that he thought of taking Anderbury-on-the-Mount. A gentleman of great and taste is Sir John, but I must tell him, baron, that you have the preference if you choose to embrace it.”
At this moment the stranger advanced, and when he saw the baron, he bowed courteously, upon which Mr. Leek said, —
“I regret, Sir John, that if you should take a fancy to the place, I am compelled first of all to give this gentleman the refusal of it.”
“Certainly,” said Sir John Westlake; “do not let me interfere with any one. I have nearly made up my mind, and came to look over the property again; but of course, if this gentleman is beforehand with me, I must be content. I wish particularly to go down to the subterranean passage to the beach, if it is not too much trouble.”
“Trouble! certainly not, sir. Here, Davis, get some links, and we can go at once; and as this gentleman likewise has seen everything but that strange excavation, he will probably descend with us.”
“Certainly,” said the baron; “I shall have great pleasure;” and he said it with so free and unembarrassed an air, that no one could have believed for a moment in the possibility that such a subject of fearful interest to him was there to be found.
The entrance from the grounds into this deep cavernous place was in a small but neat building, that looked like a summer-house; and now, torches being procured, and one lit, a door was opened, which conducted at once into the commencement of the excavation; and Mr. Leek heading the way, the distinguished party, as that gentleman loved afterwards to call it in his accounts of the transaction, proceeded into the very bowels of the earth, as it were, and quickly lost all traces of the daylight.
The place did not descend by steps, but by a gentle slope, which it required tome caution to traverse, because, being cut in the chalk, which in some places was worn very smooth, it was extremely slippery; but this was a difficulty that a little practice soon overcame, and as they went on the place became more interesting every minute.
Even the baron allowed Mr. Leek to make a speech upon the occasion, and that gentleman said, —
“You will perceive that this excavation must have been made, at a great expense, out of the solid cliff, and in making it some of the most curious specimens of petrifaction and fossil remains were found. You see that the roof is vaulted, and that it is only now and then a lump of chalk has fallen in, or a great piece of flint; and now we come to one of the ice-wells.”
They came to a deep excavation, down which they looked, and when the man held the torch beneath its surface, they could dimly see the bottom of it, where there was a number of large pieces of flint stone, and, apparently, likewise, the remains of broken bottles.
“There used to be a windlass at the top of this,” said Mr. Leek, “and the things were let down in a basket. They do say that ice will keep for two years in one of these places.”
“And are there more of these excavations?” said the baron.
“Oh, dear, yes, sir; there are five or six of them for different purposes; for when the family that used to live in Anderbury House had grand entertainments, which they sometimes had in the summer season, they always had a lot of men down here, cooling wines, and passing them up from hand to hand to the house.”
From the gradual slope of this passage down to the cliffs, and the zigzag character of it, it may be well supposed that it was of considerable extent. Indeed, Mr. Leek asserted that it was half a mile in actual measured length.
The baron was not at all anxious to run any risk of a discovery of the dead body which he had cast into that ice-well which was nearest to the opening on to the beach, so, as he went on, he negatived the different proposals that were made to look down into the excavations, and succeeded in putting a stop to that species of inquiry in the majority of instances, but he could not wholly do so.
Perhaps it would have been better for his purpose if
he had encouraged a look into every one of the ice-wells; for, in that case, their similarity of appearance might have tired out Sir John Westlake before they got to the last one; but as it was, when they reached the one down which the body had been precipitated, he had the mortification to hear Mr. Leek say, —
“And now, Sir John, and you, my lord baron, as we have looked at the first of these ice wells and at none of the others, suppose we look at the last.”
The baron was afraid to say anything; because, if the body were discovered, and identified as that of the visitor at the inn, and who had been seen last with him, any reluctance on his part to have that ice-well examined, might easily afterwards be construed into a very powerful piece of circumstantial evidence against him.
He therefore merely bowed his assent, thinking that the examination would be but a superficial one, and that, in consequence, he should escape easily from any disagreeable consequences.
But this the fates ordained otherwise; and there seemed no hope of that ice-well in particular escaping such an investigation as was sure to induce some uncomfortable results.
“Davis,” said Mr. Leek, “these places are not deep, you see, and I was thinking that if you went down one of them, it would be as well; for then you would be able to tell the gentlemen what the bottom was fairly composed of, you understand.”
“Oh, I don’t mind, sir,” said Davis. “I have been down one of them before to-day, I can tell you, sir.”
“I do not see the necessity,” said Sir John Westlake, “exactly, of such a thing; but still if you please, and this gentleman wishes — ”
“I have no wish upon the occasion,” said the baron; “and, like yourself, cannot see the necessity.”
“Oh, there is no trouble,” said Mr. Leek; “and it’s better, now you are here, that you see and understand all about it. How can you get down, Davis?”
“Why, sir, it ain’t above fourteen feet altogether; so I sha’n’t have any difficulty, for I can hang by my hands about half the distance, and drop the remainder.”
As he spoke he took off his coat, and then stuck the link he carried into a cleft of the rock, that was beside the brink of the excavation.
The baron now saw that there would be no such thing as avoiding a discovery of the fact of the dead body being in that place, and his only hope was, that in its descent it might have become so injured as to defy identification.
But this was a faint hope, because he recollected that he had himself seen the face, which was turned upwards, and the period after death was by far too short for him to have any hope that decomposition could have taken place even to the most limited extent.
The light, which was stuck in a niche, shed but a few inefficient rays down into the pit, and, as the baron stood, with folded arms, looking calmly on, he expected each moment a scene of surprise and terror would ensue.
Nor was he wrong; for scarcely had the man plunged down into that deep place, than he uttered a cry of alarm and terror, and shouted, —
“Murder! murder! Lift me out. There is a dead man down here, and I have jumped upon him.”
“A dead man!” cried Mr. Leek and Sir John Westlake in a breath.
“How very strange!” said the baron.
“Lend me a hand,” cried Davis; “lend me a hand out; I cannot stand this, you know. Lend me a hand out, I say, at once.”
This was easier to speak of than to do, and Mr. Davis began to discover that it was easier by far to get into a deep pit, than to get out of one, notwithstanding that his assertion of having been down into those places was perfectly true; but then he had met with nothing alarming, and had been able perfectly at his leisure to scramble out the best way he could.
Now, however, his frantic efforts to release himself from a much more uncomfortable situation than he had imagined it possible for him to get into, were of so frantic a nature, that he only half buried himself in pieces of chalk, which he kept pulling down with vehemence from the sides of the pit, and succeeded in accomplishing nothing towards his rescue.
“Oh! the fellow is only joking,” said the baron, “and amusing himself at our expense.”
But the manner in which the man cried for help, and the marked terror which was in every tone, was quite sufficient to prove that he was not acting; for if he were, a more accomplished mimic could not have been found on the stage than he was.
“This is serious,” said Sir John Westlake, “and cannot be allowed. Have you any ropes here by which we can assist him from the pit? Don’t be alarmed, my man, for if there be a dead body in the pit, it can’t harm you. Take your time quietly and easily, and you will assuredly get out.”
“Aye,” said the baron, “the more haste, the worst speed, is an English proverb, and in this case it will be fully exemplified. This man would easily leave the pit, if he would have the patience, with care and quietness, to clamber up its sides.”
It would appear that Davis felt the truth of these exhortations, for although he trembled excessively, he did begin to make some progress in his ascent, and get so high, that Mr. Leek was enabled to get hold of his hand, and give him a little assistance, so that, in another minute or so, he was rescued from his situation, which was not one of peril, although it was certainly one of fright.
He trembled so excessively, and stuttered and stammered, that for some minutes no one could understand very well what he said; but at length, upon making himself intelligible, he exclaimed, —
“There has been a murder! there has been a murder committed, and the body thrown into the ice pit. I felt that I jumped down upon something soft, and when I put down my hand to feel what it was, it came across a dead man’s face, and then, of course, I called out.”
“You certainly did call out.”
“Yes, and so would anybody, I think, under such circumstances. I suppose I shall be hung now, because I had charge of the house?”
“That did not strike me until this moment,” said the baron; “but if there be a dead body in that pit, it certainly places this man in a very awkward position.”
“What the deuce do you mean?” said Davis; “I don’t know no more about it than the child unborn. There is a dead man in the ice-well, and that is all I know about it; but whether he has been there a long time, or a short time, I don’t know any more than the moon, so it’s no use bothering me about it.”
“My good man,” said the baron, “it would be very wrong indeed to impute to you any amount of criminality in this business, since you may be entirely innocent; and I, for one, believe that you are so, for I cannot think that any guilty man would venture into the place where he had put the body of his victim, in the way that you ventured into that pit. I say I cannot believe it possible, and therefore I think you innocent, and will take care to see that no injustice is done you; but at the same time I cannot help adding, that I think, of course, you will find yourself suspected in some way.”
“I am very much obliged to you, sir,” said Davis; “but as I happen to be quite innocent, I am very easy about it, and don’t care one straw what people say. I have not been in this excavation for Heaven knows how long.”
“But what’s to be done?” said Mr. Leek. “I suppose it’s our duty to do something, under such circumstances.”
“Unquestionably,” said the baron; “and the first thing to be done, is to inform the police of what has happened, so that the body may be got up; and as I have now seen enough of the estate to satisfy me as regards its capabilities, I decide at once upon taking it, it I can agree upon the conditions of the tenancy, and I will purchase it, if the price be such as I think suitable.”
“Well,” said Mr. Leek, “if anything could reconcile me to the extraordinary circumstance that has just occurred, it certainly is, baron, the having so desirable a tenant for Anderbury-on-the-Mount as yourself. But we need not traverse all this passage again, for it is much nearer now to get out upon the sea-coast at once, as we are so close to the other opening upon the beach. It seems to me that
we ought to proceed at once to the town, and give information to the authorities of the discovery which we have made.”
“It is absolutely necessary,” said the baron, “so to do; so come along at once. I shall proceed to my inn, and as, of course, I have seen nothing more than yourselves, and consequently could only repeat your evidence, I do not see that my presence is called for. Nevertheless, of course, if the justices think it absolutely necessary that I should appear, I can have no possible objection to so do.”
This was as straightforward as anything that could be desired, and, moreover, it was rather artfully put together, for it seemed to imply that he, Mr. Leek, would be slighted, if his evidence was not considered sufficient.
“Of course,” said Mr. Leek; “I don’t see at all why, as you, sir, have only the same thing to say as myself, I should not be sufficient.”
“Don’t call upon me on any account,” said Sir John Westlake.
“Oh! no, no,” cried Mr. Leek; “there is no occasion. I won’t, you may depend, if it can be helped.”
Sir John, in rather a nervous and excited manner, bade them good day, before they got quite into the town, and hurried off; while the baron, with a dignified bow, when he reached the door of his hotel, said to Mr. Leek, —
“Of course I do not like the trouble of judicial investigations more than anybody else, and therefore, unless it is imperatively necessary that I should appear, I shall take it as a favour to be released from such a trouble.”
“My lord baron,” said Mr. Leek, “you may depend that I shall mention that to the magistrates and the coroner, and all those sort of people;” and then Mr. Leek walked away, but he muttered to himself, as he did so, “They will have him, as sure as fate, just because he is a baron; and his name will look well in the ‘County Chronicle.’”
Mr. Leek then repaired immediately to the house of one of the principal magistrates, and related what had occurred, to the great surprise of that gentleman, who suggested immediately the propriety of making the fact known to the coroner of the district, as it was more his business, than a magistrate’s, in the first instance, since nobody was accused of the offence.