by Bram Stoker
‘Let me give you a word of advice: If you have the slightest fault to find with that infernal nigger, shoot him on sight. A swelled-headed nigger with a bee in his bonnet is one of the worst difficulties in the world to deal with. So better make a clean job of it, and wipe him out at once!’
‘But what about the law, Mr Caswall?’
‘Oh, the law is all right. But even the law doesn’t concern itself much about dead niggers. A few more or less of them does not matter. To my mind it’s rather a relief!’
‘I’m afraid of you, ’ was her only comment, made with a sweet smile and in a soft voice.
‘All right, ’ he said, ‘let us leave it at that. Anyhow, we shall be rid of one of them!’
‘I don’t love niggers more than you do, ’ she said, ‘but I suppose one mustn’t be too particular where that sort of cleaning up is concerned.’
Then she changed in voice and manner, and asked genially:
‘And now tell me, am I forgiven?’
‘You are, dear lady – if there be anything to forgive.’
As he spoke, seeing that she had moved to go, he came to the door with her, and in the most natural way accompanied her downstairs. He passed through the hall door with her and down the avenue. As he went back to the house, she smiled to herself and took herself into her own confidence in a whisper:
‘Well, that is all right. I don’t think the morning has been altogether thrown away.’
And she walked slowly back to Diana’s Grove.
When Adam Salton separated from Lady Arabella he continued the walk which he had begun. He followed the line of the Brow, and refreshed his memory as to the various localities. He got home to Lesser Hill just as Sir Nathaniel was beginning breakfast. Mr Salton had gone to Walsall to keep an early appointment; so he was all alone. When breakfast was over, he, seeing in Adam’s face that he had something to speak about, followed into the study and shut the door.
When the two men had lighted their pipes, Sir Nathaniel began:
‘Since we talked, I have remembered an interesting fact about Diana’s Grove that I intended to have mentioned earlier, only that something put it out of my head. It is about the house, not the Grove. There is, I have long understood, some strange mystery about that house. It may be of some interest, or it may be trivial, in such a tangled skein as we are trying to unravel.’
‘I am listening. Please tell me all – all you know or suspect, and I shall try to form an opinion. To begin, then, of what sort is the mystery – physical, mental, moral, historical, scientific, occult? Any kind of hint will help me.’
‘Well, my dear boy, the fact is, I don’t know!’
‘Don’t know, sir?’
‘That is not so strange as it may appear. It may belong to any or all of these categories. Naturally, you are incredulous of such complete ignorance –’
‘Oh, sir, I would not doubt you.’
‘No, of course not. But all the same, you may not be able to believe or understand. Of course I understand your reluctance to speak of a doubt. But that applies not to the fact, but to the manner of expressing it. Be quite assured. I fully accept your belief in my bona fides. But we have difficulties to encounter, barriers to pass; so we must trust each other to speak the truth even if we do not understand it ourselves.’
Adam was silent for a few moments, and then said, with his face brightening:
‘I think, sir, the best way we can go on is to tell each other facts. Explanation may bring necessary doubt; but we shall have something to go on!’
‘Quite right. I shall try to tell you what I think; but I have not put my thoughts on the subject in sequence, and so you must forgive me if due order is not observed in my narration. I suppose you have seen the house at Diana’s Grove?’
‘The outside of it; but I have that in my mind’s eye, and I can fit into my memory whatever you may call my attention to.’
‘Good! Well, I shall just tell you, to begin with, what I know, and I may happen to know more of it than you do.
‘The house is very old – probably the first house of some sort that stood there was in the time of the Romans. This was probably renewed – perhaps several times at later periods. The house stands, or, rather, used to stand as it is when Mercia was a kingdom – I do not suppose that the basement was later than the Norman Conquest. Some years ago, when I was President of the Mercian Archæological Society, I went all over it very carefully. This was before it was purchased by Captain March. The house had then been done up so as to be suitable to bring the bride to. The basement is very strange – almost as strong and as heavy as if it was intended to be a fortress. There are a whole series of rooms deep underground. One of them in particular struck me. The room itself is of considerable size, but the masonry is more than massive. In the middle of the room is a sunk well, built up to floor level and evidently going to deep underground. There is no windlass or any trace of there ever having been any – no rope – nothing. Now, we know that even the Romans had wells of immense depth from which the water was lifted by the “old rag rope”; that at Woodhull used to be nearly a thousand feet. Here, then, we have simply an enormously deep well-hole. The door of the room when I saw it was massive, and was fastened with a lock nearly two feet square. It was evidently intended for some kind of protection to something or someone; but no one in those days when I made the visit had ever heard of anyone having been allowed even to see the room. All this is à propos of the suggestion of which I have hinted that the well-hole was a way by which the White Worm (whatever it was) went and came. At that time I would have had search made, even excavation if necessary, at my own expense, but all suggestions were met with a prompt and explicit negative. So, of course, I took no further step in the matter. Then it died out of recollection – even of mine.’
‘Do you remember, sir, ’ asked Adam, ‘what was the appearance of the room where the well-hole was? And was there furniture – in fact, any sort of thing in the room?’
‘I do not remember. It was all very dark – so dark that it was impossible to distinguish anything. The only thing I do remember was a sort of green light – very clouded – very dim, which came up from the well. Not a fixed light, but intermittent and irregular. Quite unlike anything I had ever seen.’
‘Do you remember how you got into that room – the well-room? Was there a separate door from outside, or was there any interior room or passage which opened into it?’
‘I think there must have been some room with a way into it. I remember going up some steep steps by which I came into the well-room. They must have been worn smooth by long use or something of the kind, for I could hardly keep my feet as I went up. Once I stumbled and nearly fell into the well-hole. I was more careful after that.’
‘Was there anything strange about the place – any queer smell, for instance?’
‘Queer smell? – yes. Like bilge or a rank swamp.
‘It was distinctly nauseating; I remember that when I came out I felt that I had been just going to be physically sick. I shall try back on my visit and see if I can recall any more of what I saw or felt.’
‘Then perhaps, sir, later in the day you will kindly tell me anything you may chance to recollect.’
‘I shall be delighted, Adam. If your uncle has not returned by then, I shall join you in the study after dinner, and we shall resume this interesting chat.’
CHAPTER XX
THE MYSTERY OF ‘THE GROVE’
When Adam, after leaving Lady Arabella, went on his own road outside Castra Regis, Oolanga followed him in secret. Adam had at first an idea, or rather a suspicion, that he was being followed, and looked around a good many times in the hope of making discovery of his pursuer. Not being successful in any of these attempts, he gradually gave up the idea, and accepted the alternative that he had been mistaken. He wondered what had become of the nigger, whom he had certainly seen at first, so kept a sharp look-out for him as he went on his way. As he passed through the little wood outside
the gate of Diana’s Grove, he thought he saw the African’s face for an instant. He knew it must be him; otherwise, there must be a devil wandering loose somewhere in the neighbourhood. So he went deeper into the undergrowth, and followed along parallel to the avenue to the house. He was, in a way, glad that there was no workman or servant about, for he did not care that any of Lady Arabella’s people should find him wandering about her grounds at such an hour. Taking advantage of the thickness of the trees, he came close to the house and skirted round it. He was repaid for his trouble, for on the far side of the house, close to where the rocky frontage of the cliff fell away, he saw Oolanga crouched behind the irregular trunk of a great oak. The man was so intent on watching someone, or something, that he did not guard against being himself watched. This suited Adam, for he could thus make scrutiny at will. The thick wood, though the trees were mostly of small girth, threw a heavy shadow, in addition to that made by the early sun being in the east, so that the steep declension, in front of which grew the tree behind which the African lurked, was almost in darkness. Adam drew as close as he could, and was amazed to see a patch of light on the ground before him; when he realised what it was, he was determined more than ever to follow on his quest. The nigger had a dark lantern in his hand, and was throwing the light down the steep incline. The glare showed that the decline, which was in a sort of sunken way, emerged on a series of stone steps, which ended in a low-lying heavy iron door fixed against the side of the house. His mind was in a whirl. All the strange things he had heard from Sir Nathaniel, and all those, little and big, which he had himself noticed, crowded into his mind in a chaotic way, such as marks the intelligence conveyed in a nightmare. Instinctively he took refuge from the possibility of Oolanga seeing him behind a thick oak stem, and set himself down to watch what might occur.
After a very short time it was apparent that the African was trying to find out what was behind the heavy door. There was no way of looking in, for the door fitted tight into the massive stone slabs. The only opportunity for the entrance of light was through a small hole left in the building between the great stones above the door. This hole was much too high up to look through from the ground level. The nigger was so intent on his effort to see beyond this, that Adam found there was no necessity for his own careful concealment, which was a considerable help to him in his task. Oolanga, having tried standing tiptoe on the highest point near, and holding the lantern as high as he could, threw the light round the edges of the door to see if he could find anywhere a hole or a flaw in the metal through which he could obtain a glimpse. Foiled in this, he brought from the shrubbery a plank, which he leant against the top of the door and then climbed up with great dexterity. This did not bring him near enough to the window-hole to look in, or even to throw the light of the lantern through it, so he climbed down and carried the plank back to the place from which he had got it. Then he concealed himself near the iron door and waited, manifestly with the intent of remaining there till someone came near. Presently Lady Arabella, moving noiselessly through the shade, approached the door. When he saw her close enough to touch it, Oolanga stepped forward from his concealment, and said in a whisper, which through the gloom sounded like a hiss:
‘I want to see you, missy – soon and secret.’
Her lip curled in scorn as she answered:
‘You see me now. What do you want? What is it?’
‘You know well, missy. I told you already.’
She turned on him with her eyes blazing, so that the green tint in them shone like emeralds.
‘Come, none of that. If there is anything sensible which you may wish to say to me, you can see me here, just where we are, at seven o’clock.’
He made no reply in words, but, putting the backs of his hands together, bent lower and lower still till his forehead touched the earth. She stood stone-still, which seeing, he rose and went slowly away. Adam Salton, from his hiding-place, saw and wondered. In a few minutes he moved from his place and went away home to Lesser Hill, fully determined that seven o’clock would find him in some hidden place behind Diana’s Grove.
When he got home he placed the box containing the mongoose in the gun-room. Not having any immediate intention of making use of the animal, it passed quite out of his mind.
At a little before seven Adam stole softly out of the house and took the back-way to the rear of Diana’s Grove. The place seemed silent and deserted, so he took the opportunity of concealing himself near the spot whence he had seen Oolanga trying to investigate whatever was concealed behind the iron door. He was quite content when he found himself safely ensconced in his hiding-place. He waited, perfectly still, and at last saw a gleam of white passing soundlessly through the undergrowth. He was not surprised when he recognised the shape and colour of Lady Arabella’s dress. She came close and waited, with her face to the iron door. From some place of concealment near at hand Oolanga appeared, and came close to her. Adam noticed with surprised amusement that over his shoulder was his, Adam’s, box with the mongoose. Of course the African did not know that he was seen by anyone, least of all by the man whose property he had in possession. Silent-footed as he was, Lady Arabella heard him coming, and turned to meet him. It was somewhat hard to see in the gloom, for, as usual, he was all in black, only his collar and cuffs showing white. The black of his face helped with that of his clothing in eating up what faint light there was. Lady Arabella opened the conversation which ensued between the two:
‘I see you are here – what do you want? To rob me, or murder me?’
‘No, to lub you!’
This, getting explicit so soon, frightened her a little, and she tried to change the tone:
‘Is that a coffin you have with you? If so, you are wasting your time. It would not hold me.’
When a nigger suspects he is being laughed at, all the ferocity of his nature comes to the front; and as the man was naturally of the lowest kind, the usual was to be expected:
‘Dis ain’t no coffin for nobody. Quite opposite. Dis box is for you. Somefin you lub. Me give him to you!’
Still anxious to keep off the subject of affection, on which she believed him to have become crazed, she made another effort to keep his mind elsewhere:
‘Is this why you want to see me?’
He nodded.
She went on: ‘Then come round to the other door. And be quiet. I have no particular desire to be seen so close to my own house in conversation with a – a – a nigger like you!’
She had chosen the word of dishonour deliberately. She wished to meet his passion with another kind. Such would, at all events, help to keep him quiet. In the deep gloom she could not see the anger which suffused his face. Rolling eyeballs and grinding teeth are, however, sufficient indices of anger to be decipherable in the dark. She moved round the corner of the house to her right hand. Oolanga was following her, when she stopped him by raising her hand:
‘No, not that door, ’ she said: ‘that is not for niggers. The other door will do well enough for that!’
There was such scorn in her voice – scorn carried to a positive quality with malignity added – that the African writhed. Suddenly he stopped as if turned into stone, and said in a voice, whose very quietude was dangerous:
‘Gib me your gun.’
Unthinkingly, she pulled out the revolver, which was in her breast, and handed it to him:
‘Do you want to kill me?’ she said. ‘Go on. I am not afraid of you; but, remember, you will swing for it. This is not Benin or Ashantee1 – this is England!’
He answered in an even voice:
‘Don’t fear, missee. Gun no to kill nobody. Only to protect myself.’
He saw the wonder in her face, and explained:
‘I heard this morning what master said in his room. You no thought I heard. He say, “If you have any fault to find with that infernal nigger” – he said that – “shoot him on sight.” Now you call me nigger, speak to me like a dog. And you want me to go into your house by door
which I not know. Gun safer now with me. Safer for Oolanga if gun wanted to hurt him.’
‘What have you in that box?’
‘That is treasure for you, missee. I take care of it, and give it to you when we get in.’
Lady Arabella took in her hand a small key which hung at the end of her watch-chain, and moved to a small door, low down, round the corner, and a little downhill from the edge of the Brow. Oolanga, in obedience to her gesture, went back to the iron door. Adam looked carefully at the mongoose box as the African went by, and was glad to see that it was locked. Unconsciously, as he looked, he fingered the key that was in his waistcoat pocket. When Oolanga was out of sight, Lady Arabella, who had waited quite still, said to him:
‘Mr Salton, will you oblige me by coming with me for a few minutes? I have to see that – that coloured person – on a matter of business, and I do not care to see him alone. I shall be happier with a witness. Do you mind obliging me, and coming? It will be very kind of you.’
He bowed, and walked with her to the door round the corner.
CHAPTER XXI
EXIT OOLANGA
The moment they got out of sight of the nigger, Adam said to Lady Arabella:
‘One moment whilst we are alone. You had better not trust that nigger!’
Her answer was crisp and concise:
‘I don’t.’
‘Forewarned is forearmed. Tell me if you will – it is for your own protection. Why do you mistrust him?’
‘It is an odd story, but I had better tell you, though, in truth, it is somewhat humiliating – disturbing – to my amour propre.1 He is a thief – at least, so I gather from his readiness to commit a felony. Then you saw that he took my pistol practically under threat. Again he wants to blackmail me – oh I have lots of reasons to distrust him.’
‘He blackmail you! The scoundrel! But how could he hope to do such a thing?’