The Mystery of the Ravenspurs

by Fred M. White

  CHAPTER XI

  ANOTHER STROKE IN THE DARKNESS

  Contrary to the usual custom, there was almost a marked cheerfulness atRavenspur the same evening. The dread seemed to have lifted slightly,though nobody could say why, even if they cared to analyze, which theycertainly did not. And all this because it had seemed to the doomed racethat Vera was marked down for destruction, and that the tragedy, thepitiful tragedy, had been averted.

  It is hardly possible to imagine a state of mind like this. And Verahalf divined the reason for this gentle gaiety. She might have told themdifferently had she chosen to do so, but for many reasons she refrained.

  She did not even tell her mother. Why draw the veil aside when even afew hours' peace stood between them and the terror which sooner or latermust sap the reason of every one there? Besides, Uncle Ralph had pledgedher to the utmost secrecy.

  For once Rupert Ravenspur had abandoned his stony air. He sat at thehead of the long table in the dining-room, where the lamplight streamedupon fruit and flowers and crystal, upon priceless china, and silverfrom the finest workshops in the world.

  Grinling Gibbons and Inigo Jones had toiled in that dining-hall as alabor of love; a famous master had painted the loves of the angels onthe roof. Between the oak panels were paintings by Van Dyck, Cuyp andthe rest of them. And over the floor servants in livery moved swiftly.Rupert Ravenspur might have been a monarch entertaining some of hisfavored subjects.

  It was almost impossible to believe that a great sorrow could bebrooding here. There was everything that the heart of the most luxuriouscould demand. Strangers might have looked on and envied. But the statelyold man who called all this his own would gladly have changed lots withthe humblest hind on the estate.

  Now and then Rupert came out of his reverie and smiled. But histenderest smile and his warmest word were for Vera, who he had placed onhis right hand. Now and again he stroked her hair or touched her fingersgently. Marion watched the scene with a tender smile on her lips.

  Only Ralph Ravenspur was silent. He sat with his sightless eyes fixed onspace; he seemed to be listening intently, listening to something faraway that could be heard by his ears alone. Geoffrey touched him.

  "A penny for your thoughts, uncle," he said.

  "They are worth nothing," Ralph replied. "And if I sold them to you fora penny you would give all Ravenspur Castle and your coming fortune tobe rid of them."

  He croaked this out in a fierce whisper. There was a ring of pain in hisvoice, that pain which is the suffering of the soul rather than thebody. Yet he did not relax his rigid listening attitude. He might havebeen waiting for the unseen foe.

  The conversation proceeded fitfully, sometimes almost lively, anonlapsing into silence. It was hard for these people to speak. They had nointerests outside the castle; they found it impossible to follow socialor political life. Daily papers arrived, but it was seldom that theywere looked into.

  The dinner came to an end at length, and then the family circle drewround the fire. Ravenspur was one of those big cold places where firesare always needed. Mrs. Gordon rose and walked to the door. Herhusband's eyes followed her. These two were gray and old before theirtime, but the flame of love still burned bright and clear.

  "You will not be long, dear," Gordon Ravenspur said. A somewhatsentimental remark in the ordinary way, but not in this place where theparting of a minute might mean parting for all time. Mrs. Gordon smiledback upon her husband.

  "I am going to bed," she said. "Never mind me. I feel sleepy."

  Gordon Ravenspur nodded sympathetically. He knew what his wife meant asif she had put her thoughts into words. She had been terribly upset overVera and now that the danger was past a heavy reaction set in.

  "Why should we sit here like this?" Geoffrey exclaimed. "Vera andMarion, I'll play you two a game at billiards. Come along."

  Marion smilingly declined. She touched the back of Ravenspur's wastedhand.

  "I am going to stay here just for a few minutes and take care ofgrandfather," she said; "then I will go to bed. Give Vera twenty in ahundred, and I will bet you a pair of gloves that she beats you easily."

  The young people went off together and in the excitement of the gameother things were forgotten. Vera played well and Geoffrey had all hiswork cut out to beat her. Finally Vera ran out with a succession ofbrilliant flukes.

  "Well, of all the luck!" Geoffrey cried. "Let's play another game, butafter that exhibition of yours I must have a cigarette. Wait a moment."

  The cigarettes were not in their accustomed place. Geoffrey ran up thestairs to his bedroom. He passed along the dusky corridor on his return.In the gallery all was dark and still, save for something that soundedlike two figures in muffling velvet robes dancing together. It seemed toGeoffrey that he could actually hear them breathing after theirexertions.

  With a quickening of his heart he stopped to listen. Surely somebodyburied under many thick folds of cloth was calling for assistance.

  "Who is there?" Geoffrey called. "Where are you?"

  "Just under the Lely portrait," came a stifled response. "If youdon't----"

  The voice ceased. In that instant Geoffrey had recognized it as AuntGordon's voice.

  Heedless of danger to himself he raced down the corridor, his thinevening pumps making little or no noise on the polished floor. Nor hadGeoffrey lived here all these years for nothing. He could have found thespot indicated blindfolded.

  He could see nothing, but he could hear the struggle going on; then hecaught the flash of something that looked like a blue diamond. It musthave been attached to a hand, but no hand was to be seen. Geoffreycaught at nothingness and grasped something warm and palpitating. He hadthe mysterious assailant in his grip; perhaps he held the whole mysteryhere. He heard footsteps pattering along the corridor as Mrs. Gordon ranfor assistance. He called out to her and she answered him.

  She was safe. There was no doubt about that. No longer was there anyneed for caution on Geoffrey's part. His fingers closed on a thinscraggy throat from which the flesh seemed to hang like strips of driedleather. At the same time the throat was cold and clammy and slippery asif with some horrible slime. It was almost impossible to keep a grip onit. Moreover, the mysterious visitor, if slight, was possessed ofmarvelous agility and vitality.

  But Geoffrey fought on with the tenacity of one who plays for a greatend. He closed in again and bore the foe backwards. He had him at last.If he could only hold on till assistance came, the dread secret might beunfolded.

  Then the figure took something from his pocket; the air was filled witha pungent, sickly sweet odor, and Geoffrey felt his strength going fromhim. He was powerless to move a limb. One of those greasy hands grippedhis throat.

  In a vague, intangible way Geoffrey knew that that overpowering blindingodor was the same stuff that had come so near to ending the head of thefamily. If he breathed it much longer, his own end was come.

  He made one other futile struggle and heard approaching footsteps; hecaught the gleaming circle of a knife blade swiftly uplifted, and hisantagonist gave a whimper of pain as a frightened animal might do. Thegrip relaxed and Geoffrey staggered to the floor.

  "That was a narrow escape," a hoarse voice said.

  "Uncle Ralph!" Geoffrey panted. "How did you get here? And where has thefellow gone?"

  "I was close at hand," Ralph said coolly. "A minute or two sooner and Imight have saved Gordon's wife, instead of your doing it. See, is thereblood on this knife?"

  He handed a box of matches to Geoffrey. The long, carved Malay blade wasdripping with crimson. But there were no signs of it on the floor.

  "Let us follow him," Geoffrey cried eagerly. "He can't be far away!"

  But Ralph did not move. His face was expressionless once more. He didnot appear to be in the least interested or excited.

  "It is useless," he said, in his dull mechanical tones. "For in thismatter you are as blind as I am. There are things beyond yourcomprehension. I am going down to see what is happening
below."

  He began to feel his way to the staircase, Geoffrey following.

  "Are we never going to do anything?" the younger man exclaimedpassionately.

  "Yes, yes. Patience, lad! The day of reckoning is coming as sure as Istand before you. But to follow your late antagonist is futile. Youmight as well try to beat the wind that carries away your hat on astormy day."

  Mrs. Gordon sat in the dining-hall, pale, ashen, and trembling fromhead to foot. It seemed as if an ague had fallen upon her. Every now andthen a short hysterical laugh escaped her lips, more horrible and moreimpressive than any outbreak of fear or passion.

  And yet there was nothing to be done, nothing to be said; they couldonly look at her with moist eyes and a yearning sympathy that was beyondall words.

  "It will pass," Mrs. Gordon said faintly. "We all have our trials; andmine are no worse than the rest. Gordon, take me to bed."

  She passed up the stairs leaning on the arm of her husband. Time waswhen these things demanded vivid explanations. They were too significantnow. Ralph crept fumblingly over the floor till he stood by Marion'sside. He touched her hand; he seemed to know where to find it. The handwas wet. Ralph touched her cheek.

  "You are crying," he said, gently for him.

  "Yes," Marion admitted, softly. "Oh, if I could only do anything tohelp. If you only knew how my heart goes out to these poor people!"

  "And yet it may be your turn next, Marion. But I hope not--I hope not.We could not lose the only sunshine in the house!"

  Marion choked down a sob. When she turned to Ralph again he was far offfeeling his way along the room--feeling, feeling always for the clue tothe secret.