XXII
THE THIRD NIGHT
Mother Jane must have changed her mind after we left her. For late inthe evening I caught a glimpse of her burly figure in the kitchen as Iwent to give Hannah some instructions concerning certain little changesin the housekeeping arrangements which the girls and I had agreed werenecessary to our mutual comfort.
I wished to address the old crone, but warned, by the ill-concealeddefiance with which Hannah met my advances, that any such attempt on mypart would be met by anything but her accustomed good-nature, Irefrained from showing my interest in her strange visitor, or from evenappearing conscious of her own secret anxieties and evidentpreoccupation.
Loreen and Lucetta exchanged a meaning look as I rejoined them in thesitting-room; but my volubility in regard to the domestic affair whichhad just taken me to the kitchen seemed to speedily reassure them, andwhen a few minutes later I said good-night and prepared to leave theroom, it was with the conviction that I had relieved their mind at theexpense of my own. Mother Jane in the kitchen at this late hour meantbusiness. What that business was, I seemed to know only too well.
I had formed a plan for the night which required some courage. RecallingLucetta's expression of the morning, that I might expect a repetition ofthe former night's experiences, I prepared to profit by the warning in away she little meant. Satisfied that if there was any truth in thesuspicions I had formed, there would be an act performed in this houseto-night which, if seen by me, would forever settle the questionagitating the whole countryside, I made up my mind that no locked doorshould interfere with my opportunity of doing so. How I effected thisresult I will presently relate.
Lucetta had accompanied me to my door with a lighted candle.
"I hear you had some trouble with matches last night," said she. "Youwill find them all right now. Hannah must be blamed for some of thiscarelessness." Then as I began some reassuring reply, she turned upon mewith a look that was almost fond, and, throwing out her arms, criedentreatingly: "Won't you give me a little kiss, Miss Butterworth? Wehave not given you the best of welcomes, but you are my mother's oldfriend, and sometimes I feel a little lonely."
I could easily believe that, and yet I found it hard to embrace her. Toomany shadows swam between Althea's children and myself. She saw myhesitancy (a hesitancy I could not but have shown even at the risk oflosing her confidence), and, paling slightly, dropped her hands with apitiful smile.
"You don't like me," she said. "I do not wonder, but I was in hopes youwould for my mother's sake. I have no claims myself."
"You are an interesting girl, and you have, what your mother had not, aserious side to your nature that is anything but displeasing to me. Butmy kisses, Lucetta, are as rare as my tears. I had rather give you goodadvice, and that is a fact. Perhaps it is as strong a proof of affectionas any ordinary caress would be."
"Perhaps," she assented, but she did not encourage me to give it to hernotwithstanding. Instead of that, she drew back and bade me a gentlegood-night, which for some reason made me sadder than I wished to be ata crisis demanding so much nerve. Then she walked quickly away, and Iwas left to face the night alone.
Knowing that I should be rather weakened than helped by the omission ofany of the little acts of preparation with which I am accustomed to calmmy spirits for the night, I went through them all, with just as muchprecision as if I had expected to spend the ensuing hours in rest. Whenall was done and only my cup of tea remained to be quaffed, I had alittle struggle with myself, which ended in my not drinking it at all.Nothing, not even this comfortable solace for an unsatisfactory day,should stand in the way of my being the complete mistress of my witsthis night. Had I known that this tea contained a soporific in the shapeof a little harmless morphine, I would have found this act ofself-denial much easier.
It was now eleven. Confident that nothing would be done while my lightwas burning, I blew it out, and, taking a candle and some matches in myhand, softly opened my door and, after a moment of intense listening,stepped out and closed it carefully behind me. Nothing could be stillerthan the house or darker than the corridor.
"Am I watched or am I not watched?" I queried, and for an instant stoodundecided. Then, seeing nothing and hearing nothing, I slipped down thehall to the door beyond mine and, opening it with all the care possible,stepped inside.
I knew the room. I had taken especial note of it in my visit of themorning. I knew that it was nearly empty and that there was a key in thelock which I could turn. I therefore felt more or less safe in it,especially as its window was undarkened by the branches that hung sothickly across my own casement, shutting me in, or seeming to shut mein, from all communication with the outside world and the unknownguardian which I had been assured constantly attended my summons.
That I might strengthen my spirits by one glimpse of this same outsideworld, before settling down for the watch I had set for myself, Istepped softly to the window and took one lingering look without. A beltof forest illumined by a gibbous moon met my eyes; nothing else. Yetthis sight was welcome, and it was only after I had been struck by thepossibility of my own figure being seen at the casement by some possiblewatcher in the shadows below, that I found the hardihood necessary towithdraw into the darker precincts of the room, and begin that lonelywatch which my doubts and expectations rendered necessary.
This was the third I had been forced to keep, and it was by far the mostdismal; for though the bolted door between me and the hall promised mepersonal safety, there presently rose in some far-off place a smotheredrepetition of that same tap, tap, tap which had sent the shudders overme upon my sudden entrance into the house early in the morning. Heardnow, it caused me to tremble in a way I had not supposed possible to oneof my hardy nature, and while with this recognition of my femininesusceptibility to impressions there came a certain pride in thestanchness of purpose which led me to restrain all acknowledgment offear, by any recourse to my whistle, I was more than glad when even thissound ceased, and I had only to expect the swishing noise of a skirtdown the hall, and that stealthy locking of the door of the room I hadtaken the precaution of leaving.
It came sooner than I expected, came just in the way it had previouslydone, only that the person paused a moment to listen before hasteningback. The silence within must have satisfied her, for I heard a low sighlike that of relief, before the steps took themselves back. That theywould turn my way gave me a momentary concern, but I had too completelylulled my young hostesses' suspicions, or (let me be faithful to all thepossibilities of the case) they had put too much confidence in thepowder with which they had seasoned my nightly cup of tea, for them todoubt that I was soundly asleep in my own quarters.
Three minutes later I followed those steps as far down the corridor as Idared to go. For, since my last appearance in it, a candle had been litin the main hall, and faint as was its glimmer, it was still a glimmerinto the circle of which I felt it would be foolhardiness for me tostep. At some twenty paces, then, from the opening, I paused and gavemyself up to listening. Alas, there was plenty now for me to hear.
You have heard the sound; we all have heard the sound, but few of us insuch a desolate structure and at the hour and under the influences ofmidnight! The measured tread of men struggling under a heavy weight, andthat weight--how well I knew it! as well as if I had seen it, as Ireally did in my imagination.
They advanced from the adjoining corridor, from the room I had as yetfound no opportunity of entering, and they approached surely and slowlythe main hall near which I was standing in such a position as renderedit impossible for me to see anything if they took the direct course tothe head of the stairs and so down, as there was every reason to expectthey would. I did not dare to draw nearer, however, so concentrated myfaculties anew upon listening, when suddenly I perceived on the greatwhite wall in front of me--the wall of the main hall, I mean, towardwhich the opening looked--the shapeless outline of a drooping head, andrealized that the candle had been placed in such a position that thewall must re
ceive the full shadow of the passing cortege.
And thus it was I saw it, huge, distorted, and suggestive beyond anypicture I ever beheld,--the passing of a body to its long home, carriedby six anxious figures, four of which seemed to be those of women.
But that long home! Where was it located--in the house or in thegrounds? It was a question so important that for a moment I could thinkof nothing but how I could follow the small procession, without runningthe risk of discovery. It had reached the head of the stairs by thistime, and I heard Miss Knollys' low, firm voice enjoining silence. Thenthe six bearers began to descend with their burden.
Ere they reached the foot, a doubt struck me. Would it be better tofollow them or to take the opportunity afforded by every member of thehousehold being engaged in this task, to take a peep into the room wherethe death had occurred? I had not decided, when I heard them take theforward course from the foot of the stairs to what, to my straining ear,seemed to be the entrance to the dining-room corridor. But as in myanxiety to determine this fact I slipped far enough forward to make surethat their destination lay somewhere within reach of the Flower Parlor,I was so struck by the advantages to be gained by a cautious use of thetrap-door in William's room, that I hesitated no longer, but sped withwhat swiftness I could toward the spot from which I had so lately heardthis strange procession advance.
A narrow band of light lying across the upper end of the long corridor,proved that the door was not only ajar, but that a second candle wasburning in the room I was about to invade; but this was scarcely tobe regretted, since there could be no question of the emptiness ofthe room. The six figures I had seen go by embraced every one whoby any possibility could be considered as having part in thistransaction--William, Mr. Simsbury, Miss Knollys, Lucetta, Hannah, andMother Jane. No one else was left to guard this room, so I pushed thedoor open quite boldly and entered.
What I saw there I will relate later, or, rather, I will but hint atnow. A bed with a sheet thrown back, a stand covered with vials, abureau with a man's shaving paraphernalia upon it, and on the wall suchpictures as only sporting gentlemen delight in. The candle was gutteringon a small table upon which, to my astonishment, a Bible lay open. Nothaving my glasses with me, I could not see what portion of the sacredword was thus disclosed, but I took the precaution to indent the upperleaf with my thumb-nail, so that I might find it again in case of futureopportunity. My attention was attracted by other small matters thatwould be food for thought at a more propitious moment, but at thatinstant the sound of voices coming distinctly to my ear from below,warned me that a halt had been made at the Flower Parlor, and that theduty of the moment was to locate the trap-door and if possible determinethe means of raising it.
This was less difficult than I anticipated. Either this room wasregarded as so safe from intrusion that a secret like this could besafely left unguarded, or the door which was plainly to be seen in onecorner had been so lately lifted, that it had hardly sunk back into itsplace. I found it, if the expression may be used of a horizontal object,slightly ajar and needing but the slightest pull to make it springupright.
The hole thus disclosed was filled with the little staircase up which Ihad partly mounted in my daring explorations of the day before. It wasdark now, darker than it was then, but I felt that I must descend by it,for plainly to be heard now through the crack in the closet door, whichseemed to have a knack of standing partly open, I could hear the heavytread of the six bearers as they entered the parlor below, stillcarrying their burden, concerning the destination of which I was soanxious to be informed.
That it could be in the room itself was too improbable forconsideration. Yet if they took up their stand in this room it was for apurpose, and what that purpose was I was determined to know. The noisetheir feet made on the bare boards of the floor and the few words I nowheard uttered in William's stolid tones and Lucetta's musical trebleassured me that my own light steps would no more be heard, than my darkgown of quiet wool would be seen through the narrow slit through which Iwas preparing to peer. Yet it took no small degree of what my fatherused to call pluck, for me to put foot on this winding staircase anddescend almost, as it were, into the midst of what I must regard as thelast wicked act of a most cowardly and brutal murder.
I did it, however, and after a short but grim communion with my ownheart, which would persist in beating somewhat noisily, I leaned forwardwith all the precaution possible and let my gaze traverse the chamber inwhich I had previously seen such horrors as should have prepared me forthis last and greatest one.
In a moment I understood the whole. A long square hole in the floor,lately sawed, provided an opening through which the plain plank coffin,of which I now caught sight, was to be lowered into the cellar and sointo the grave which had doubtless been dug there. The ropes in thehands of the six persons, in whose identity I had made no mistake, wasproof enough of their intention; and, satisfied as I now was of themeans and mode of the interment which had been such a boundless mysteryto me, I shrank a step upward, fearing lest my indignation and thehorror I could not but feel, from this moment on, of Althea's children,would betray me into some exclamation which might lead to my discoveryand a similar fate.
One other short glance, in which I saw them all ranged around the darkopening, and I was up out of their reach, Lucetta's face and Lucetta'sone sob as the ropes began to creak, being the one memory which followedme the most persistently. She, at least, was overwhelmed with remorsefor a deed she was perhaps only answerable for in that she failed tomake known to the world her brother's madness and the horrible crimes towhich it gave rise.
I took one other look around his room before I fled to my own, orrather, to the one in which I had taken refuge while my own was underlock and key. That I spent the next two hours on my knees no one canwonder. When my own room was unlocked, as it was before the day broke, Ihastened to enter it and lay my head with all its unhappy knowledge onmy pillow. But I did not sleep; and, what was stranger still, never oncethought of sounding a single note on the whistle which would havebrought the police into this abode of crime. Perhaps it was a wiseomission. I had seen enough that was horrible that night withoutbeholding Althea's children arrested before my eyes.
_BOOK III_
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