In the course of the afternoon I took an opportunity of examining the summer-house. It was a pretty octagonal structure, situated, as I have already mentioned, on the top of a small mount, and had large windows looking in every direction over the gardens. Internally, this pleasant little structure had a coved ceiling, moulded and painted with frescoes, and the spaces between the windows were decorated in a similar manner. Its sole furniture consisted of some half-dozen rustic chairs and a table; and the latter being covered with a piece of old tapestry which hung down nearly to the ground, immediately suggested a place of concealment to me. The summit of the mound outside the summer-house was flagged, the sides being covered with shrubs, and access was gained to the building by a flight of stone steps.
The rest of the day seemed to pass very slowly, and I wandered about the garden, longing for the arrival of night. Old Hazy did not show himself till dinner-time. He was in particularly good spirits, and while we were sitting together over our wine, after the departure of the ladies, he told me, with a very mysterious look, that he felt sure he should soon have good news for me.
“A month hence, I prognosticate you will be a rich man, Mervyn,” he remarked, with a laugh.
“Why do you fix that precise time, sir?” I demanded.
“Because I have been casting a horoscope,” he replied; “and I find from the configuration of the planets that your uncle’s will will be certainly recovered at that time.”
“If recovered at all, it will be so before then,” I rejoined.
“No it won’t!” he cried with great emphasis. “Mark my words, it will be found out this day month — not a day — not an hour sooner. My calculations never err. If you get it before the period I have named, write me down an ignorant pretender.”
“If I should chance to find it before,” I ventured to reply, with a certain significance, “I hope you will never place faith in impudent pretenders again, sir.”
“Ha! what’s that?” he exclaimed, quickly. “But I know you look upon all professors of occult philosophy as impostors.”
“Not without good reason, sir,” I rejoined. And here the conversation dropped.
Everything was favourable for the scheme. The night was dark but fine, so the ladies could venture forth into the garden, without any kind of discomfort. Before ten o’clock I went away, having previously arranged with Miss Hazilrigge that a little before midnight she and Ora, accompanied by the three men-servants, should repair to the allée verte, where they would find Cuthbert Spring and Major Atherton. As soon as I gave the signal, which I had agreed to do by sounding a dog-whistle, the whole party were to hurry up to the summer-house, where I doubted not all would be accomplished.
I made haste to the mill, and found that my friends had already arrived, and had brought an officer with them. In anticipation of a successful result, they had given Ned Culcheth orders how to act on the morrow. If the gipsies could be found they were to be secured, and a warrant was to be obtained for Malpas’s arrest, but not to be put in execution until our arrival. —
As the night was now advancing, and I was anxious to be at my post, I soon set off back again to the Grange, leaving the others to follow more leisurely. Avoiding the stone bridge in front of the house, I pursued a circuitous route to the stables, where I found Stephen Blackden, and committed my horse to his care. In another moment I was in the garden and speeding through the dark alley in the direction of the summer-house.
The night was pitch dark. Not a star shone down upon me, but I wanted no guidance, for I knew every inch of the ground, and very soon gained the top of the mount, and entered the little building. It was almost too dark to discern any object in the interior, but after stepping quickly round the room to make sure that no one was there, I proceeded to ensconce myself under the table.
If time had passed slowly before, it now seemed not to move at all, and I do not recollect in the whole course of my life a half-hour so long as that passed under the table in the summerhouse.
At length, to my indescribable delight, I heard the stable clock strike twelve. In another moment footsteps were audible outside, and then the door was opened. One of them was come. My heart beat so violently that I had to hold my hand against my side to still it.
After entering the room, the new-comer stood still for a moment, and called out, “Are you here, Doctor Hooker?” Receiving no answer of course, the old gentleman uncovered a dark lantern which he had brought with him, and which he must have hitherto carried under his cloak, and suddenly lighted up the place. I was afraid he might be tempted to look under the table, and so detect my presence, but no such thought crossed him. Having surveyed the room for a moment, and muttered something to himself, he closed the cover of the lantern, and all became dark again. Then I heard him approach the table, and sit down upon one of the chairs beside it.
For a minute or two he remained perfectly quiet, but after that he began to manifest his impatience in various ways, drummed upon the table over my head, and exclaimed, “Why doesn’t he come? It is past the hour. What can have detained him?” Two or three minutes more elapsed, and my neighbour’s impatience seemed to increase, while mine most undoubtedly did not diminish. At last a noise was heard outside, and Old Hazy started up, exclaiming, “Ah! here he comes at last!”
Oh! how overjoyed I felt when Pownall’s quick step resounded in the room, and I distinguished his voice. My first impulse was to spring from my concealment and seize him, but anxiety to ascertain that he had brought the will with him restrained me.
“Are you there, sir?” he inquired.
“Yes, here I am,” Old Hazy replied; “and here I have been for the last quarter of an hour. You’re behind time.”
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting, sir,” Pownall rejoined; “but I couldn’t come sooner. However, I’m quite ready for you.”
“I’m glad to hear it,” the old gentleman rejoined. “I’m quite ready too. Let me hear what you have got.”
“Open wide your ears then, worthy sir, while I particularise the marvellous contents of this wallet,” the other replied. “In it you will find a scroll drawn up by the great Cornelius Agrippa himself; another scroll covered with magical characters for raising spirits, in the handwriting of Doctor Dee. Also Doctor Dee’s wondrous piece of crystal.”
“Are you sure it is Doctor Dee’s crystal?” Old Hazy cried.
“I have seen an extraordinary stone belonging to the illustrious doctor in the possession of a learned friend of mine — the President of the Chetham Society — but I never met with the crystal.”
“Here you will find it, then,” Pownall replied; “you will also find Pope Leo’s magical speculum, and the original compact between Doctor Faustus and the Prince of Darkness, with the doctor’s signature traced in his own blood, and the sign-manual of Satan, with which you are sufficiently familiar, I know, to be able to identify it.”
“But how did you obtain the latter remarkable document?” Old Hazy inquired, “It is a long story, and I have not time to relate it now,” the other rejoined. “But you may rely upon its authenticity. Then there are curious secrets by Albertus Magnus — secrets never yet revealed to the world; undiscovered treasures by the Lesser Albert; treatises, that have never yet seen the light, by Paracelsus, Carden, and Michael Scott.”
“Amazement!” the old gentleman exclaimed. “What a wonderful collection you have got together! — and all in that wallet!”
“I have not enumerated half — not a third,” Simon replied; “there is an original treatise on Judicial Astrology by Joseph de Tertiis; and another most remarkable discourse on the interpretation of dreams by the great Artemidorus.”
“You don’t say so? — an unpublished work by Artemidorus!” Old Hazy exclaimed. “Oh! if you had anything unknown to the world by Psellus, or my favourite Robert de Triez!”
“You will find short treatises by both of them,” Pownall replied.
“I am eager to inspect them,” the credulous old gentlem
an cried. “Dear me! to think that such treasures should exist!”
“You will possess some of the greatest curiosities in the world,” Pownall returned. “Necessity alone compels me to part with the collection.”
“No doubt of it, Old Hazy said. “Well, I have brought a pocket-book with me containing the sum you require — namely, five hundred pounds, — but there is one thing more which you have not yet mentioned, but which I shall require before the money is paid — the will.”
“Old Mobberley’s rightful will, constituting Mervyn Clitheroe his heir,” Pownall cried. “It is here.”
And he clapped the parchment upon the table with a report that made every fibre in my frame quiver.
Was the will really there? or did it only belong to the string of fables with which he had been deluding Old Hazy? My misgivings were soon dispelled.
“I must look at that will,” the old gentleman said, uncovering the dark lantern, and once more throwing a light upon the scene.
“Yes, look at it, sir! — satisfy yourself that it is all right,” Pownall cried; “but pray be quick! The light may betray us.” —
“I won’t be long,” Old Hazy rejoined. “Yes, yes, there is no doubt about it. This is the document we have been in quest of so long. This is old Mobberley’s rightful will.”
Scarcely were the words uttered than I sprang from beneath the table, and stood before the startled pair. The lantern had not been darkened, and the first object that met my view was the will lying partly open upon the table. I instantly seized it, and having secured it, placed the whistle to my lips, and blew a loud call.
Hitherto, not a word had been spoken. Both Pownall and Old Hazy were stupefied by my unexpected appearance; but the sound of the whistle recalled Pownall to a consciousness of danger, and he made an effort to fly. In vain. Instantly seizing him, I forced him into a chair. At the same moment lights could be seen without, and several figures appeared at the windows.
“What does all this mean?” Old Hazy cried.
“It means that I am betrayed by you,” Pownall cried, in a rage. “I see through it all. I took you for an old idiot — but you have wit enough, it seems, to circumvent me.”
Before the old gentleman could make any answer, the door of the summer-house was thrown open, and the interior of the little building was filled by the party I had summoned. The first to enter were Major Atherton, Cuthbert Spring, and the officer.
“Here is your prisoner,” I said, consigning Pownall to the latter. “Don’t let him slip through your fingers.”
“No fear of that, sir,” the officer rejoined, putting a pair of handcuffs over Pownall’s wrists. “I’ll forgive him if he gets away from me.”
“Have you got the will?” Major Atherton eagerly demanded.
“Yes, here it is,” I answered, producing it. “I am righted at last. Here is my title to my uncle Mobberley’s property.”
“Huzza!” Cuthbert Spring exclaimed. And the joyful shout was repeated by Ponder and the others, while the two ladies clapped their hands.
“Most sincerely do I congratulate you, my dear boy,” Major Atherton said. “And I trust that fortune, who has so long regarded you with frowns, will henceforth only smile upon you.”
“Let me look at the will for a moment,” Cuthbert Spring said. “Yes, I see it’s all right. Well, you are a lucky fellow, Mervyn. Two thousand a year — that’s your income.”
Old Hazy did not say a word, but seemed overwhelmed with confusion. Miss Hazilrigge now addressed him.
“Brother, brother!” she cried, “are you not ashamed of yourself to have been so long the dupe of such a miserable juggler as this?”
The old gentleman made no reply, but hung his head.
“Are you not ashamed of yourself, I say?” his sister repeated.
“I’m not quite such a miserable juggler as you suppose, madam,” Pownall cried: the rascal had by this time recovered his assurance. “Your brother is not the only person who has taken me for a conjuror, though I must say,” he added, with a laugh, “that he is the most credulous gull I ever met with.” —
“You hear that, brother?” Miss Hazilrigge cried. “You hear what the impudent rascal calls you.”
“Yes, I hear it,” the old gentleman groaned.
“I could make him swallow anything,” Pownall cried, chuckling. “He believes that yonder wallet contains Doctor Dee’s crystal, Pope Leo’s speculum, Doctor Faustus’s compact with Satan, together with unpublished treatises by all his favourite writers on occult philosophy — ha! ha! ha!”
“What! you have told me a pack of lies, eh?” Old Hazy cried, “There are no magic scrolls — no crystal — no speculum — no diabolic compact — no treatises by Artemidorus, Psellus, Robert de Triez, and the others?”
“You had better look for them,” Pownall rejoined, coolly.
“Oh! you prodigious villain! Oh! you arch deceiver! I’ll strangle you!” the old gentleman cried, with an explosion of rage. And he might have executed his threat if we had not stopped him. “Oh, sister!” he added, “how egregiously I have been duped. Well may this rascal call me an old idiot. I merit the appellation.”
“You will be a wiser man in future, I am quite certain, brother,” Miss Hazilrigge replied, kindly. “I have hopes of you now.”
“If my good friend will only forswear his books of magic, witchcraft, and judicial astrology, and avoid such society as he has here formed, his cure will be complete,” Cuthbert Spring remarked.
“I’ll do it!” Old Hazy exclaimed. “I’ll burn all my books to-morrow. I won’t keep one of them.”
“Not even Robert de Triez?” I asked, with a smile.
“Not even Robert,” he answered, firmly.
“I shall hold you to your promise, brother,” Miss Hazilrigge said. “You hear what your master says, Ponder. ALL the books in his study are to be burnt.” And she gave him some private directions in an undertone.
“I shall be very glad to do it, ma’am,” the butler replied; and to clear the house of all such vermin as have so long infested it,” he added, with a glance at Pownall.
“Since things have taken this turn,” Cuthbert Spring remarked, “any objections I might have had to a country life are removed. I shall give up Cottonborough.”
“And come to Owlarton Grange. Delighted to hear you say so!” Old Hazy exclaimed. “I hope soon to call you brother-in-law.
“Oh! pray don’t talk in that way!” Miss Hazilrigge cried.
“You can’t expect my uncle to spare your blushes, aunt,” Ora said, “after taking him to task so sharply as you have just done.”
“Hold your tongue, you saucy minx!” the elderly spinster rejoined.
“Well, gentlemen,” Old Hazy said to the major and Mr. Spring, “you have taken me a little by surprise, but you shall have the best accommodation I can offer you. You will sleep at the Grange, of course?”
“Of course they will, brother,” Miss Hazilrigge interposed. “I expected them, and have provided accordingly.”
“Yes, we must trespass upon your hospitality to-night, Mr. Hazilrigge,” Major Atherton observed. “Our work is not ended. We have more to do to-morrow.”
“I hope you won’t let Captain Sale and the two gipsies escape, gentlemen,” Pownall cried. “Only confront me with them, and you shall hear what nice disclosures I will make.”
“You shall have an opportunity of speaking out, depend upon it,” Major Atherton rejoined. “Mr. Hazilrigge, I must beg your permission to keep this rascal here to-night in custody of the officer. By this time to-morrow, he will be lodged, I trust, with his three accomplices in Chester Gaol.”
“Stephen Blackden shall put him in the farm-house, and keep watch over him with the officer,” the old gentleman replied. “And now, since we have nothing more to detain us here, suppose we adjourn to the house.”
“You will find supper ready for you,” Miss Hazilrigge said. “I am sure dear Mr. Spring will be all the better after his journey
for a slice of cold chicken and a glass of champagne — and so will the major.”
“Upon my word, you are very considerate, my dear Miss Hazilrigge,” the old bachelor rejoined, gallantly offering her his arm.
We had a very merry supper that night, and my health was drunk in foaming bumpers of champagne by all the party.
I slept that night in the haunted chamber — and haunted I was, not by Jotham Shocklach, but by my uncle Mobberley. Before retiring to rest, I had read over the will and placed it for better security under my pillow — so no wonder I dreamed of him who made it.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE STEEPLECHASE.
I AWOKE next morning in a very strange state of mind. For a few moments I could not believe in the occurrences of the previous night. Had I indeed become suddenly wealthy? Was I really possessed of two thousand a year? Was Nethercrofts mine at last? The will might have disappeared like a fairy favour. To satisfy myself, I thrust my hand beneath the pillow, and brought it forth. Yes, there it was, beyond all question. I opened it and began to read it again, though by this time I was perfectly familiar with its contents. Blessings on him! my dear old uncle Mobberley had constituted me his heir. In all other respects the will corresponded with that which had been acted upon — the various bequests made in both instruments being identical, with one material exception. I hugged the precious parchment to my bosom, and thought I would never let it out of my possession. I am ashamed to relate the follies I committed. I sang, laughed — even wept — with delight. Springing out of bed, I began to caper about the room, and was still exercising my limbs in this manner when the door suddenly opened and Ponder entered. As I did not immediately desist from my saltatory performance, but even bounded about with increased vigour, the sedate butler gazed at me in perfect bewilderment, shoving by his countenance that he thought I must have taken leave of my senses.
The Works of William Harrison Ainsworth Page 491