I met my host and hostess at an early breakfast. Sir Henry proposed that as the day was warm and fine, I should ride to a neighbouring meet. I was not in the humour for this, however, and said frankly that I should prefer remaining at the Grange. One glance into the faces of my host and hostess told me only too plainly that I had two very serious patients on my hands. Lady Studley looked terribly weak and excited – the hectic spots on her cheeks, the gleaming glitter of her eyes, the parched lips, the long, white, emaciated hands, all showed only too plainly the strides the malady under which she was suffering was making.
'After all, I cannot urge that poor girl to go abroad,' I said to myself. 'She is hastening rapidly to her grave, and no power on earth can save her. She looks as if there were extensive disease of the lungs. How restless her eyes are, too! I would much rather testify to Sir Henry's sanity than to hers.'
Sir Henry Studley also bore traces of a sleepless night – his face was bloodless; he averted his eyes from mine; he ate next to nothing.
Immediately after breakfast, I followed Lady Studley into her morning-room. I had already made up my mind how to act. Her husband should have my full confidence – she only my partial view of the situation.
'Well,' I said, 'I have seen your husband and talked to him. I hope he will soon be better. I don't think you need be seriously alarmed about him. Now for yourself, Lady Studley. I am anxious to examine your lungs. Will you allow me to do so?'
'I suppose Henry has told you I am consumptive?'
'He says you are not well,' I answered. 'I don't need his word to assure me of that fact – I can see it with my own eyes. Please let me examine your chest with my stethoscope.'
She hesitated for a moment, looking something like a wild creature brought to bay. Then she sank into a chair, and with trembling fingers unfastened her dress. Poor soul, she was almost a walking skeleton – her beautiful face was all that was beautiful about her. A brief examination told me that she was in the last stage of phthisis – in short, that her days were numbered.
'What do you think of me?' she asked, when the brief examination was over.
'You are ill,' I replied.
'How soon shall I die?'
'God only knows that, my dear lady,' I answered.
'Oh, you needn't hide your thoughts,' she said. 'I know that my days are very few. Oh, if only, if only my husband could come with me! I am so afraid to go alone, and I am fond of him, very fond of him.'
I soothed her as well as I could.
'You ought to have someone to sleep in your room at night,' I said. 'You ought not to be left by yourself.'
'Henry is near me – in the next room,' she replied. 'I would not have a nurse for the world – I hate and detest nurses.'
Soon afterwards she left me. She was very erratic, and before she left the room she had quite got over her depression. The sun shone out, and with the gleam of brightness her volatile spirits rose.
'I am going for a drive,' she said. 'Will you come with me?'
'Not this morning,' I replied. 'If you ask me to-morrow, I shall be pleased to accompany you.'
'Well, go to Henry,' she answered. 'Talk to him – find out what ails him, order tonics for him. Cheer him in every way in your power. You say he is not ill – not seriously ill – I know better. My impression is that if my days are numbered, so are his.'
She went away, and I sought her husband. As soon as the wheels of her brougham were heard bowling away over the gravel sweep, we went up together to his room.
'That eye came twice last night,' he said in an awestruck whisper to me. 'I am a doomed man – a doomed man. I cannot bear this any longer.'
We were standing in the room as he said the words. Even in broad daylight, I could see that he glanced round him with apprehension. He was shaking quite visibly. The room was decidedly old-fashioned, but the greater part of the furniture was modern. The bed was an Albert one with a spring mattress, and light, cheerful dimity hangings. The windows were French – they were wide open, and let in the soft, pleasant air, for the day was truly a spring one in winter. The paper on the walls was light.
'This is a quaint old wardrobe,' I said. 'It looks out of place with the rest of the furniture. Why don't you have it removed?'
'Hush,' he said, with a gasp. 'Don't go near it – I dread it, I have locked it. It is always in that direction that the apparition appears. The apparition seems to grow out of the glass of the wardrobe. It always appears in that one spot.'
'I see,' I answered. 'The wardrobe is built into the wall. That is the reason it cannot be removed. Have you got the key about you?'
He fumbled in his pocket, and presently produced a bunch of keys.
'I wish you wouldn't open the wardrobe,' he said. 'I frankly admit that I dislike having it touched.'
'All right,' I replied. 'I will not examine it while you are in the room. You will perhaps allow me to keep the key?'
'Certainly! You can take it from the bunch, if you wish. This is it. I shall be only too glad to have it well out of my own keeping.'
'We will go downstairs,' I said.
We returned to Sir Henry's library. It was my turn now to lock the door.
'Why do you do that?' he asked.
'Because I wish to be quite certain that no one overhears our conversation.'
'What have you got to say?'
'I have a plan to propose to you.'
'What is it?'
'I want you to change bedrooms with me to-night.'
'What can you mean? – what will Lady Studley say?'
'Lady Studley must know nothing whatever about the arrangement. I think it very likely that the apparition which troubles you will be discovered to have a material foundation. In short, I am determined to get to the bottom of this horror. You have seen it often, and your nerves are much shattered. I have never seen it, and my nerves are, I think, in tolerable order. If I sleep in your room to-night – '
'It may not visit you.'
'It may not, but on the other hand it may. I have a curiosity to lie on that bed and to face that wardrobe in the wall. You must yield to my wishes, Sir Henry.'
'But how can the knowledge of this arrangement be kept from my wife?'
'Easily enough. You will both go to your rooms as usual. You will bid her good-night as usual, and after the doors of communication are closed I will enter the room and you will go to mine, or to any other that you like to occupy. You say your wife never comes into your room during the hours of the night?'
'She has never yet done so.'
'She will not to-night. Should she by any chance call for assistance, I will immediately summon you.'
It was very evident that Sir Henry did not like this arrangement. He yielded, however, to my very strong persuasions, which almost took the form of commands, for I saw that I could do nothing unless I got complete mastery over the man.
Lady Studley returned from her drive just as our arrangements were fully made. I had not a moment during all the day to examine the interior of the wardrobe. The sick woman's restlessness grew greater as the hours advanced. She did not care to leave her husband's side. She sat with him as he examined his books. She followed him from room to room. In the afternoon, to the relief of everyone, some fresh guests arrived. In consequence we had a cheerful evening. Lady Studley came down to dinner in white from top to toe. Her dress was ethereal in texture and largely composed of lace. I cannot describe woman's dress, but with her shadowy figure and worn, but still lovely face, she looked spiritual. The gleam in her large blue eyes was pathetic. Her love for her husband was touching to behold. How soon, how very soon, they must part from each other! Only I as a doctor knew how impossible it was to keep the lamp of life much longer burning in the poor girl's frame.
We retired as usual to rest. Sir Henry bade me a cheerful goodnight. Lady Studley nodded to me as she left the room.
'Sleep well,' she said, in a gay voice.
It was late the next morning when we all met rou
nd the breakfast table. Sir Henry looked better, but Lady Studley many degrees worse, than the night before. I wondered at her courage in retaining her post at the head of her table. The visitors, who came in at intervals and took their seats at the table, looked at her with wonder and compassion.
'Surely my hostess is very ill?' said a guest who sat next my side.
'Yes, but take no notice of it,' I answered.
Soon after breakfast I sought Sir Henry.
'Well – well?' he said, as he grasped my hand. 'Halifax, you have seen it. I know you have by the expression of your face.'
'Yes,' I replied, 'I have.'
'How quietly you speak. Has not the horror of the thing seized you?'
'No,' I said, with a brief laugh. 'I told you yesterday that my nerves were in tolerable order. I think my surmise was correct, and that the apparition has tangible form and can be traced to its foundation.'
An unbelieving look swept over Sir Henry's face.
'Ah,' he said, 'doctors are very hard to convince. Everything must be brought down to a cold material level to satisfy them; but several nights in that room would shatter even your nerves, my friend.'
'You are quite right,' I answered. 'I should be very sorry to spend several nights in that room. Now I will tell you briefly what occurred.'
We were standing in the library. Sir Henry went to the door, locked it, and put the key in his pocket.
'Can I come in?' said a voice outside.
The voice was Lady Studley's.
'In a minute, my darling,' answered her husband. 'I am engaged with Halifax just at present.'
'Medically, I suppose?' she answered.
'Yes, medically,' he responded.
She went away at once, and Sir Henry returned to my side.
'Now speak,' he said. 'Be quick. She is sure to return, and I don't like her to fancy that we are talking secrets.'
'This is my story,' I said. 'I went into your room, put out all the lights, and sat on the edge of the bed.'
'You did not get into bed, then?'
'No, I preferred to be up and to be ready for immediate action should the apparition, the horror, or whatever you call it, appear.'
'Good God, it is a horror, Halifax!'
'It is, Sir Henry. A more diabolical contrivance for frightening a man into his grave could scarcely have been contrived. I can comfort you on one point, however. The terrible thing you saw is not a figment of your brain. There is no likelihood of a lunatic asylum in your case. Someone is playing you a trick.'
'I cannot agree with you – but proceed,' said the baronet, impatiently.
'I sat for about an hour on the edge of the bed,' I continued. 'When I entered the room it was twelve o'clock – one had sounded before there was the least stir or appearance of anything, then the ticking noise you have described was distinctly audible. This was followed by a sudden bright light, which seemed to proceed out of the recesses of the wardrobe.'
'What did you feel when you saw that light?'
'Too excited to be nervous,' I answered, briefly. 'Out of the circle of light the horrible eye looked at me.'
'What did you do then? Did you faint?'
'No, I went noiselessly across the carpet up to the door of the wardrobe and looked in.'
'Heavens! you are daring. I wonder you are alive to tell this tale.'
'I saw a shadowy form,' I replied – 'dark and tall – the one brilliant eye kept on looking past me, straight into the room. I made a very slight noise; it immediately disappeared. I waited for some time – nothing more happened. I got into your bed, Sir Henry, and slept. I can't say that I had a comfortable night, but I slept, and was not disturbed by anything extraordinary for the remaining hours of the night.'
'Now what do you mean to do? You say you can trace this thing to its foundation. It seems to me that all you have seen only supports my firm belief that a horrible apparition visits that room.'
'A material one,' I responded. 'The shadowy form had substance, of that I am convinced. Sir Henry, I intend to sleep in that room again to-night.'
'Lady Studley will find out.'
'She will not. I sleep in the haunted room again to-night, and during the day you must so contrive matters that I have plenty of time to examine the wardrobe. I did not do so yesterday because I had not an opportunity. You must contrive to get Lady Studley out of the way, either this morning or afternoon, and so manage matters for me that I can be some little time alone in your room.'
'Henry, Henry, how awestruck you look!' said a gay voice at the window. Lady Studley had come out, had come round to the library window, and, holding up her long, dark-blue velvet dress, was looking at us with a peculiar smile.
'Well, my love,' replied the baronet. He went to the window and flung it open. 'Lucilla,' he exclaimed, 'you are mad to stand on the damp grass.'
'Oh, no, not mad,' she answered. 'I have come to that stage when nothing matters. Is not that so, Dr Halifax?'
'You are very imprudent,' I replied.
She shook her finger at me playfully, and turned to her husband.
'Henry,' she said, 'have you taken my keys? I cannot find them anywhere.'
'I will go up and look for them,' said Sir Henry. He left the room, and Lady Studley entered the library through one of the French windows.
'What do you think of my husband this morning?' she asked.
'He is a little better,' I replied. 'I am confident that he will soon be quite well again.'
She gave a deep sigh when I said this, her lips trembled, and she turned away. I thought my news would make her happy, and her depression surprised me.
At this moment Sir Henry came into the room.
'Here are your keys,' he said to his wife. He gave her the same bunch he had given me the night before. I hoped she would not notice that the key of the wardrobe was missing.
'And now I want you to come for a drive with me,' said Sir Henry.
He did not often accompany her, and the pleasure of this unlookedfor indulgence evidently tempted her.
'Very well,' she answered. 'Is Dr Halifax coming?'
'No, he wants to have a ride.'
'If he rides, can he not follow the carriage?'
'Will you do that, Halifax?' asked my host.
'No, thank you,' I answered; 'I must write some letters before I go anywhere. I will ride to the nearest town and post them presently, if I may.' I left the room as I spoke.
Shortly afterwards I saw from a window Sir Henry and his wife drive away. They drove in a large open landau, and two girls who were staying in the house accompanied them. My hour had come, and I went up at once to Sir Henry's bedroom. Lady Studley's room opened directly into that of her husband, but both rooms had separate entrances.
I locked the two outer doors now, and then began my investigations. I had the key of the wardrobe in my pocket.
It was troublesome to unlock, because the key was a little rusty, and it was more than evident that the heavy doors had not been opened for some time. Both these doors were made of glass. When shut, they resembled in shape and appearance an ordinary old-fashioned window. The glass was set in deep mullions. It was thick, was of a peculiar shade of light blue, and was evidently of great antiquity. I opened the doors and went inside. The wardrobe was so roomy that I could stand upright with perfect comfort. It was empty, and was lined through and through with solid oak. I struck a light and began to examine the interior with care. After a great deal of patient investigation I came across a notch in the wood. I pressed my finger on this, and immediately a little panel slid back, which revealed underneath a small button. I turned the button and a door at the back of the wardrobe flew open. A flood of sunlight poured in, and stepping out, I found myself in another room. I looked around me in astonishment. This was a lady's chamber. Good heavens! what had happened? I was in Lady Studley's room. Shutting the mysterious door of the wardrobe very carefully, I found that all trace of its existence immediately vanished.
There
was no furniture against this part of the wall. It looked absolutely bare and smooth. No picture ornamented it. The light paper which covered it gave the appearance of a perfectly unbroken pattern. Of course, there must be a concealed spring somewhere, and I lost no time in feeling for it. I pressed my hand and the tips of my fingers in every direction along the wall. Try as I would, however, I could not find the spring, and I had at last to leave Lady Studley's room and go back to the one occupied by her husband, by the ordinary door.
Once more I re-entered the wardrobe and deliberately broke off the button which opened the secret door from within. Anyone who now entered the wardrobe by this door, and shut it behind him, would find it impossible to retreat. The apparition, if it had material foundation, would thus find itself trapped in its own net.
Rivals of Sherlock Holmes, The Page 11