by Bram Stoker
She had, of course, agreed to keep all secret until Adam should give her leave to speak.
The advice and assistance of Sir Nathaniel de Salis was a great help to Adam Salton in carrying out his idea of marrying Mimi Watford without publicity. He went with him to London, and, with his knowledge and influence, the young man got the licence of the Archbishop of Canterbury for a private marriage. Sir Nathaniel then took him to live in his own house till the marriage should have been solemnised. All this was duly done, and, the formalities having been fixed, Adam and Mimi were married at Doom.
Adam had tried to arrange that he and his wife should start for Australia at once; but the first ship to suit them did not start for ten days. So he took his bride off to the Isle of Man1 for the interim. He wished to place a stretch of sea between Mimi and the White Worm, that being the only way to ensure protection for his wife. When the day for departure arrived, they went from Douglas in the King Orrey to Liverpool. On arrival at the landing-stage, they drove to Congleton, where Sir Nathaniel met them and drove them at once to Doom, taking care to avoid any one that he knew on the journey. They travelled at a great pace and arrived before dusk at Doom Tower.
Sir Nathaniel had taken care to have the doors and windows shut and locked – all but the door used for their entry. The shutters were up and the blinds down. Moreover, heavy curtains were drawn across the windows. When Adam commented on this, Sir Nathaniel said in a whisper:
‘Wait till we are alone, and I shall tell you why this is done; in the meantime not a word or a sign. You will approve when we have had a talk together.’
They said no more on the subject till, when after dinner, they were ensconced alone in Sir Nathaniel’s study, which was on the top story of the tower. Doom Tower was a lofty structure, seated on an eminence high up in the Peak. The top of the tower commanded a wide prospect ranging from the hills above the Ribble2 to the near side of the Brow, which marked the northern bound of ancient Mercia. It was of the early Norman period, less than a century younger than Castra Regis. The windows of the study were barred and locked, and heavy dark curtains closed them in. When this was done not a gleam of light from the tower was seen from outside.
When they were alone Sir Nathaniel spoke, keeping his voice to just above a whisper:
‘It is well to be more than careful. In spite of the fact that your marriage was kept secret, as also your temporary absence, both are known.’
‘How? To whom?’
‘How, I know not; but I am beginning to have an idea. To whom is it the worst? Where it is most dangerous.’
‘To her?’ asked Adam in momentary consternation.
Sir Nathaniel shivered perceptibly as he answered:
‘The White Worm – yes!’
Adam noticed that from thence on he never spoke amongst themselves of Lady Arabella otherwise, except when he wished to divert the suspicion of others or cover up his own. Then, having opened the door, looked outside it and closed it again, he put his lips to Adam’s ear and whispered even more softly:
‘Not a word, not a sound to disturb your wife. Her ignorance may be yet her protection. You and I know all and shall watch. At all costs, she must have no suspicion!’
Adam hardly dared to breathe. He put his finger to his lips and at last said under his breath:
‘I shall do whatever you tell me to, and all the thanks of my heart are to you!’
Sir Nathaniel switched off the electric light, and when the room was pitch dark he came to Adam, took him by the hand, and led him to a seat set in the southern window. Then he softly drew back a piece of the curtain and motioned his companion to look out.
Adam did so, and immediately shrank back as though his eyes had opened on pressing danger. His companion set his mind at rest by saying in a low voice, not a whisper:
‘It is all right; you may speak, but speak low. There is no danger here – at present!’
Adam leaned forward, taking care, however, not to press his face against the glass. What he saw would not under ordinary circumstances have caused concern to anybody but to him. With his knowledge, it was simply appalling – though the night was now so dark that in reality there was little to be seen.
On the western side of the tower stood a grove of old trees of forest dimensions. They were not grouped closely, but stood a little apart from each other, producing the effect of a row widely planted. Over the tops of them was seen a green light, something like the danger signal at a railway-crossing. At the height of the tower, the light was not enough to see anything even close to it. It seemed at first quite still; but presently, when Adam’s eye became accustomed to it, he could see that it moved a little as if trembling. This at once recalled to Adam’s mind all that had been. He seemed to see again the same duplicate light quivering above the well-hole in the darkness of that inner room at Diana’s Grove – to hear again Oolanga’s prolonged shriek, and to see the hideous black face, now grown gray with terror, disappear into the impenetrable gloom of the mysterious orifice. Instinctively he laid his hand on his revolver, and stood up ready to protect his wife. Then, seeing that nothing happened, and that the light and all outside the tower remained the same, he softly pulled the curtain over the window, and, rising up, came and sat down beside Sir Nathaniel who looked up for a moment with a sharp glance, and said in an even voice:
‘I see you understand. I need say nothing.’
‘I understand!’ he replied in the same quiet tone.
Sir Nathaniel switched on the light again, and in its comforting glow they began to talk freely.
CHAPTER XXVIII
AT CLOSE QUARTERS
‘She has diabolical cunning, ’ said Sir Nathaniel. ‘Ever since you left, she has ranged along the Brow and wherever you were accustomed to frequent. I have not heard whence the knowledge of your movements came to her, nor have I been able to learn any data whereon I have been able to found an opinion. She seems to have heard both of your marriage and your absence; but I gather, by inference, that she does not know where you and your wife are, or of your return. So soon as the dusk falls, she goes out on her rounds, and before dawn covers the whole ground round the Brow, and away up into the heart of the Peak. I presume she doesn’t condescend to rest or to eat. This is not to be wondered at in a lady who has been in the habit of sleeping for a thousand years at a time, and of consuming an amount of food at a sitting which would make a moderate-sized elephant kick the beam.1 However, be all that as it may, her ladyship is now nightly on the prowl, and in her own proper shape that she used before the time of the Romans. It certainly has great facilities for the business on which she is now engaged. She can look into windows of any ordinary kind. Happily, this house is beyond her reach, especially if she wishes – as she manifestly does – to remain unrecognised. But, even at this height, it is wise to show no lights, lest she might learn something of even our presence or absence.’
Here Adam stood up again and spoke out.
‘Would it not be well, sir, if some one of us should see this monster in her real shape at close quarters? I am willing to run the risk – for I take it there would be no slight risk in the doing. I don’t suppose anyone of our time has seen her close and lived to tell the tale.’2
Sir Nathaniel rose and held up an expostulatory hand as he said:
‘Good God, lad! what are you suggesting? Think of your wife and all that is at stake.’
Adam interrupted:
‘It is of my wife that I think, for her sake that I am willing to risk whatever is to be risked. But be assured I shall not drag her into it – or even tell her anything to frighten her. When I go out she shall not know of it.’
‘But if you mention the matter at all she will suspect.’
‘The fact of the snake being on the look-out must be told to her to warn her, but I will do it in such a way as not to create any undue suspicion regarding herself. Indeed, I had made up my mind as to what to say some time ago, when it was borne in on me to warn her about keeping th
e place dark. With your permission, I shall go now and tell her of that, and then when I return here you might lend me a key so that I can let myself in.’
‘But do you mean to go alone?’
‘Certainly. It is surely enough for one person to run the risk.’
‘That may be, Adam, but there will be two.’
‘How so! You surely don’t mean that Mimi should come with me?’
‘Lord, no! But if she knew you were going she would be sure to want to go too; so be careful not to give her a hint.’
‘Be sure I shall not. Then who is to be the other?’
‘Myself! You do not know the ground; and so would be sure to get into trouble. Now, I know every inch of it, and can guide you how to go safely to any place you want. Adam, this is an exceptional thing – yielding to no law of action that any of us ever heard of. As to danger! what of that to you and me when your wife’s safety is concerned! I tell you, no forlorn hope that either of us ever heard of has a hundredth part of the danger we are running into. Yet I do it with all my heart – even as you do.’
Adam made a low bow as to one worthy of all honour, but he said no word more on the subject. After he had switched off the light he then peeped out again through the window and saw where the green light still hung tremblingly above the trees. Before the curtain was drawn and the lights put up again, Sir Nathaniel said:
‘So long as her ladyship does not know whereabout we are, we shall have as much safety as remains to us; so, then, bear in mind that we cannot be too careful.’
When the two men slipped out by the back door of the house, they walked cautiously along the avenue which trended towards the west. Everything was pitch dark – so dark that at times they had to feel their way by the borders and palings and tree-trunks. They could still see, seemingly far in front of them and high up, the baleful dual light which at the height and distance seemed like a faint line. As they were now on the level of the ground, the light seemed infinitely higher than it had looked from the top of the tower; it actually seemed now, when it trembled, to move amongst the stars. At the sight Adam’s heart fell; the whole danger of the desperate enterprise which he had undertaken burst upon him. But shortly this feeling was followed by another which restored him to himself – a fierce hate and loathing, and a desire to kill, such as he had never experienced or even dreamt of.
They went on for some distance on a level road fairly wide, from which the green light was still visible. Here Sir Nathaniel spoke softly again, placing his lips to Adam’s ear for safety:
‘We must be very silent. We know nothing whatever of this creature’s power of either hearing or smelling, though we presume that both are of no great strength. As to seeing, we may presume the opposite, but in any case we must try to keep in the shade or hidden behind the tree-trunks. The slightest error would be fatal to us.’
Adam made no answer. He only nodded, in case there should be any chance of the monster seeing the movement.
After a time, that seemed interminable, they emerged from the circling wood. It was like coming out into sunlight by comparison with the misty blackness which had been around them. There was actually some light – enough to see by, though not sufficient to distinguish things at a distance or minutely. Naturally Adam’s eyes sought the green light in the sky. It was still in about the same place, but its surroundings were more visible. It now was at the summit of what seemed to be a long white pole, near the top of which were two pendant white masses like rudimentary arms. The green light, strangely enough, did not seem lessened by the surrounding starlight, but had a clearer effect and a deeper green. Whilst they were carefully regarding this – Adam with the aid of a folding opera-glass – their nostrils were assailed by a horrid stench – something like that which rose from the well-hole in Diana’s Grove. This put them in mind of the White Worm, and they tried to examine its position as seen against the sky in the faint starlight. By degrees, as their eyes got and held the right focus, they saw an immense towering mass that seemed snowy white. It was tall and wonderfully thin. The lower part was hidden by the trees which lay between, but they could follow the tall white shaft and the duplicate green lights which topped it. As they looked there was a movement: the shaft seemed to bend and the line of green light descended amongst the trees. They could see the green light twinkle as it passed through the obstructing branches. Seeing where the head of the monster was, the two men ventured a little further forward, and, a propitious ray of moonlight helping, saw that the hidden mass at the base of the shaft was composed of vast coils of the great serpent’s body, forming a substratum or base from which the upright mass rose. As still they looked, this lower mass moved, the glistening folds catching the moonlight, and they could see the monster’s progress was along the ground. It was coming towards them at a swift pace, so instinctively they both turned and ran, taking care as they went to make as little noise as possible, either by their footfalls or by disturbing the undergrowth close to them. They never stopped or paused till they saw before them the high dark tower of Doom. Quickly they entered, locking the door behind them. They did not need to talk, with such a horrid memory behind them and still accompanying them. So in the dark they found their separate rooms and went to bed.
CHAPTER XXIX
IN THE ENEMY’S HOUSE
Sir Nathaniel was in the library next morning after breakfast when Adam came to him carrying a letter. As he entered the room he said:
‘Her ladyship doesn’t lose any time. She has begun work already!’
Sir Nathaniel, who was writing at a table near the window, looked up.
‘What is it?’ said he.
Adam held out to him the letter he was carrying. It was in a blazoned envelope.
‘Ha!’ said Sir Nathaniel, ‘from Lady Arabella! I expected something of the kind.’
‘But, sir, ’ said Adam, ‘how could she have known we were here? She didn’t know last night.’
‘I don’t think we need trouble about that, Adam. There is much we do not and cannot understand. This is only another mystery. Suffice it that she does not know. It is all the better and safer for us.’
‘Better and safer?’ replied Adam, amazed.
‘Certainly. It is better to know the danger before us; and this is a warning, though it was not intended so. Let me see it. Addressed to Mr Adam Salton! Then she knows everything. All the better.’
‘How, ’ said Adam with a puzzled look. ‘How is it all the better?’
‘General process of reasoning, my boy; and the experience of some years in the diplomatic world. Just that we are all the safer with a creature that follows its own instincts. This creature is a monster without heart or consideration for anything or anyone. She is not nearly so dangerous in the open as when she has the dark to protect her. Besides, we know, by our own experience of her movements, that for some reason she shuns publicity. Perhaps it is that she knows it won’t interfere in her designs on Caswall – or rather, on Caswall’s estate. In spite of her vast bulk and abnormal strength, she is afraid to attack openly. After all, vast as she is, she is only a snake and with a snake’s nature, which is to keep low and squirm and proceed by stealth and cunning.1 She will never attack when she can run away, although she knows well that running away would probably be fatal to her. What is the letter about?’
Sir Nathaniel’s voice was calm and self-possessed. When he was engaged in any struggle of wits he was all diplomatist.
‘It is asking Mimi and me to tea this afternoon at Diana’s Grove, and hoping that you also will favour her.’
Sir Nathaniel smiled as he answered directly:
‘Please ask Mrs Salton to accept for us all.’
‘Accept? To go there? She means some deadly mischief. Surely – surely it would be wiser not.’
‘It is an old trick that we learn early in diplomacy, Adam: to fight on ground of your own choice. It is true that she initiated the place on this occasion; but by accepting it we make it ours. Moreover, she will not
be able to understand our reason or any reason for our doing so, and her own bad conscience – if she has any bad or good – and her own fears and doubts will play our game for us. No, my dear boy, let us accept, by all means.’
‘Must we accept for you too, sir? I am loth that you should run such a risk. Surely you are better out of it.’
‘No! It is better that I should be with you. In the first place, it will be less suspicious – you know you are my guests, and it will be better to preserve convention than to break it. In the next place, and the main reason for my going, there will be two of us to protect your wife in case of necessity. As to fear for me, do not count that. In any case, I am not a timorous man. And in this case I should accept all the danger that could be heaped on me.’
Adam said nothing, but he silently held out his hand, which the other shook: no words were necessary.
When it was getting near tea-time, Mimi asked Sir Nathaniel:
‘Shall we walk over? It is only a step.’
‘No, my dear, ’ he answered. ‘We must make a point of going in state. We want all publicity.’ She looked at him inquiringly. ‘Certainly, my dear. In the present circumstances publicity is a part of safety. Do not be surprised if, whilst we are at Diana’s Grove, occasional messages come for you – for all or any of us.’
‘I see!’ said Mrs Salton. ‘You are taking no chances.’
‘None, my dear. All I have learned at foreign courts and amongst civilised and uncivilised people is going to be utilised within the next couple of hours.’
‘I shall gladly learn, ’ she said: ‘it may help me on other occasions.’
‘I hope to God it will not!’
Sir Nathaniel’s voice was full of seriousness, which made the look grave also. Somehow it brought to her in a convincing way the awful gravity of the occasion. Before they came to the gate, Sir Nathaniel said to her: