by Duchess
CHAPTER VIII.
It is now "golden September," and a few days later. For the lastfortnight Florence has been making strenuous efforts to leave thecastle, but Dora would not hear of their departure, and Florence,feeling it will be selfish of her to cut short Dora's happy hours withher supposed lover, sighs, and gives in, and sacrifices her own wisheson the altar of friendship.
It is five o'clock, and all the men, gun in hand, have been out sinceearly dawn. Now they are coming straggling home, in ones or twos.Amongst the first to return are Sir Adrian and his cousin ArthurDynecourt, who, having met accidentally about a mile from home, havetrudged the remainder of the way together.
On the previous night at dinner, Miss Delmaine had spoken of a smallgold bangle, a favorite of hers, she was greatly in the habit ofwearing. She said she had lost it--when or where she could not tell;and she expressed herself as being very grieved for its loss, and hadlaughingly declared she would give any reward claimed by any one whoshould restore it to her. Two or three men had, on the instant, pledgedthemselves to devote their lives to the search; but Adrian had saidnothing. Nevertheless, the bangle and the reward remained in his mindall that night and all to-day. Now he can not refrain from speakingabout it to the man he considers his rival.
"Odd thing about Miss Delmaine's bangle," he remarks carelessly.
"Very odd. I dare say her maid has put it somewhere and forgotten it."
"Hardly. One would not put a bracelet anywhere but in a jewel-case, orin a special drawer. She must have dropped it somewhere."
"I dare say; those Indian bangles are very liable to be rubbed off thewrist."
"But where? I have had the place searched high and low, and still notidings of it can be found."
"There may have been since we left home this morning."
Just at this moment they come within full view of the old tower, andits strange rounded ivy-grown walls, and the little narrow holes in thesides they show at its highest point that indicate the position of thehaunted chamber.
What is there at this moment in a mere glimpse of this old tower to makeArthur Dynecourt grow pale and to start so strangely? His eyes growbrighter, his lips tighten and grow hard.
"Do you remember," he says, turning to his cousin with all the air ofone to whom a sudden inspiration has come, "that day on which we visitedthe haunted chamber? Miss Delmaine accompanied us, did she not?"
"Yes"--looking at him expectantly.
"Could she have dropped it there?" asks Arthur lightly. "By Jove, itwould be odd if she had--eh? Uncanny sort of place to drop one'strinkets."
"It is strange I didn't think of it before," responds Adrian, evidentlystruck by the suggestion. "Why, it must have been just about that timewhen she lost it. The more I think of it the more convinced I feel thatit must be there."
"Nonsense, my dear fellow; don't jump at conclusions so hastily! It ishighly improbable. I should say that she dropped it anywhere else in theworld."
"Well, I'll go and see, at all events," declares Adrian, unconvinced.
Is it some lingering remnant of grace, some vague human shrinking fromthe crime that has begun to form itself within his busy brain, that nowinduces Dynecourt to try to dissuade Sir Adrian from his declaredintention to search the haunted chamber for the lost bangle? With allhis eloquence he seeks to convince him that there the bangle could nothave been left, but to no effect. His suggestion has taken firm root inSir Adrian's mind, and at least, as he frankly says, though it may beuseless to hunt for it in that uncanny chamber, it is worth a try. Itmay be there. This dim possibility drives him on to his fate.
"Well, if you go alone and unprotected, your blood be on your own head,"says Dynecourt lightly, at last surrendering his position. "Remember,whatever happens, I advised you not to go!"
As Arthur finishes his speech a sinister smile overspreads his palefeatures, and a quick light, as evil as it is piercing, comes into hiseyes. But Sir Adrian sees nothing of this. He is looking at his home, asit stands grand and majestic in the red light of the dying sun. He islooking, too, at the old tower, and at the upper portion of it, wherethe haunted chamber stands, and where he can see the long narrow holesthat serve for windows. How little could a man imprisoned there see ofthe great busy world without!
"Yes, I'll remember," he says jestingly. "When the ghosts of myancestors claim me as their victim, and incarcerate me in some fiendishdungeon, I shall remember your words and your advice."
"You don't mean to go there, of course?" asks Arthur carelessly, whilstwatching the other with eager scrutiny. "It is quite a journey to thatdismal hole, and it will be useless."
"Well, if it distresses you, consider I haven't gone," says Sir Adrianlightly.
"That is right," rejoins Arthur, still with his keen eyes fixed upon hiscousin. "I knew you would abandon that foolish intention. I certainlyshall consider you haven't gone."
They are at the hall door as these words pass Arthur's lips, and therethey separate, Sir Adrian leaving him with a smile, and going away upthe large hall whistling gayly.
When he has turned one corner, Arthur goes quickly after him, not withthe intention of overtaking him, but of keeping him in view. Stealthilyhe follows, as though fearful of being seen.
There is no servant within sight. No friend comes across Sir Adrian'spath. All is silent. The old house seems wrapped in slumber. Above, thepretty guests in their dainty tea-gowns are sipping Bohea and prattlingscandal; below, the domestics are occupied in their household affairs.
Arthur, watching carefully, sees Sir Adrian go quickly up the broadfront staircase, after which he turns aside, and, as though filled withguilty fear, rushes through one passage and another, until he arrives inthe corridor that belongs to the servants' quarters.
Coming to a certain door, he opens it, not without some difficulty, and,moving into the dark landing that lies beyond it, looks around. To anycasual observer it might seem strange that some of the cobwebs in thisapparently long-forgotten place have lately been brushed away, as by afigure ascending or descending the gloomy staircase. To Arthur thesesigns bring no surprise, which proves that he, perhaps, has the bestright to know whose figure brushed them aside.
Hurrying up the stairs, after closing the door carefully andnoiselessly behind him, he reaches, after considerable mountings ofwhat seem to be interminable steps, the upper door he had opened onthe day they had visited the haunted chamber, when Ringwood and hehad had a passage-at-arms about his curiosity.
Now he stands breathing heavily outside this door, wrapped in the dismaldarkness of the staircase, listening intently, as it were, for thecoming of a footstep.
In the meantime, Sir Adrian, not dissuaded from his determination tosearch the tower for the missing bangle, runs gayly up the grandstaircase, traverses the corridors and galleries, and finally comesto the first of the iron-bound doors. Opening it, he stands upon thelanding that leads to the other door by means of the small stonestaircase. Here he pauses.
Is it some vague shadowy sense of danger that makes him stand now asthough hesitating? A quick shiver rune through his veins.
"How cold it is," he says to himself, "even on this hot day, up in thismelancholy place!" Yet, he is quite unconscious of the ears that arelistening for his lightest movement, of the wicked eyes that arewatching him through a chink in the opposite door!
Now he steps forward again, and, mounting the last flight of stairs,opens the fatal door and looks into the room. Even now it occurs to himhow unpleasant might be the consequences should the door close and thesecret lock fasten him in against his will. He pushes the door wellopen, and holds it so, and then tries whether it can fall to again ofits own accord, and so make a prisoner of him.
No; it stands quite open, immovable apparently, and so, convinced thathe is safe enough, he commences his search. Then, swift as lightning, aform darts from its concealed position, rushes up the stone staircase,and, stealthily creeping still nearer, glances into the room.
Sir Adrian's back is tur
ned; he is stooping, looking in every cornerfor the missing prize. He sees nothing, hears nothing, though atreacherous form crouching on the threshold is making ready to sealhis doom.
Arthur Dynecourt, putting forth his hand, which neither trembles norfalters on its deadly mission, silently lays hold of the door, and,drawing it toward him, the secret lock clicks sharply, and separates hisvictim from the world!
Stealthily even now--his evil deed accomplished--Arthur Dynecourtretreats down the stairs, and never indeed relaxes his speed until atlength he stands panting, but relentless, in the servants' corridoragain.
Remorse he knows not. But a certain sense of fear holds him irresolute,making his limbs tremble and bringing out cold dews upon his brow. Hisrival is safely secured, out of all harm's way as far as he isconcerned. No human being saw him go to the ill-fated tower; no humanvoice heard him declare his intention of searching it for the missingtrinket. He--Arthur--had been careful before parting from him to expresshis settled belief that Sir Adrian would not go to the haunted chamber,and therefore he feels prepared to defend his case successfully, evenshould the baronet be lucky enough to find a deliverer.
Yet he is not quite easy in his mind. Fear of discovery, fear of SirAdrian's displeasure, fear of the world, fear of the rope that alreadyseems to dangle in red lines before his eyes render him the veriestcoward that walks the earth. Shall he return and release his prisoner,and treat the whole thing as a joke, and so leave Adrian free todispense his bounty at the castle, to entertain in his lavish fashion,to secure the woman upon whom he--Arthur--has set his heart for hisbride?
No; a thousand times no! A few short days, and all will belong to ArthurDynecourt. He will be "Sir Arthur" then, and the bride he covets will beunable to resist the temptations of a title, and the chance of beingmistress of the stately old pile that will call him master. Let SirAdrian die then in his distant garret alone, despairing, undiscoverable!For who will think of going to the haunted room in search of him? Whowill even guess that any mission, however important, would lead him toit, without having first mentioned it to some one? It is a grewsomespot, seldom visited and gladly forgotten; and, indeed, what possiblycould there be in its bare walls and its blood-stained floor to attractany one? No; surely it is the last place to suspect any one would go towithout a definite purpose; and what purpose could Sir Adrian have forgoing there?
So far Arthur feels himself safe. He turns away, and joins the women andthe returned sportsmen in the upper drawing-room.
"Where is Dynecourt?" asks somebody a little later. Arthur, though hehears the question, does not even change color, but calmly, with asteady hand, gives Florence her tea.
"Yes; where is Sir Adrian?" asks Mrs. Talbot, glancing up at thespeaker.
"He left us about an hour ago," Captain Ringwood answers. "He said he'dprefer walking home, and he shoveled his birds into our cart, and leftus without another word. He'll turn up presently, no doubt."
"Dear me, I hope nothing has happened to him!" says Ethel Villiers, whois sitting in a window through which the rays of the evening sun arestealing, turning her auburn locks to threads of rich red gold.
"I hope not, I'm sure," interposes Arthur, quite feelingly. "It doesseem odd he hasn't come in before this." Then, true to his determinationto so arrange matters that, if discovery ensues upon his scheme, he maystill find for himself a path out of his difficulties, he says quietly,"I met him about a mile from home, and walked here with him. We partedat the hall-door; I dare say he is in the library or the stables."
"Good gracious, why didn't you say so before?" exclaims old LadyFitzAlmont in a querulous tone. "I quite began to believe the poor boyhad blown out his brains through disappointed love, or something equallyobjectionable."
Both Dora and Florence color warmly at this. The old lady herself isfree to speak as she thinks of Sir Adrian, having no designs upon himfor Lady Gertrude, that young lady being engaged to a very distinguishedand titled botanist, now hunting for ferns in the West Indies.
"Markham," says Mrs. Talbot to a footman who enters at this moment, "goto the library and tell Sir Adrian his tea is waiting for him."
"Yes, ma'am."
But presently Markham returns and says Sir Adrian is not in the library.
"Then try the stables, try everywhere," says Dora somewhat impatiently.
Markham, having tried everywhere, brings back the same answer; SirAdrian apparently is not to be found!
"Most extraordinary," remarks Lady FitzAlmont, fanning herself. "As arule I have noticed that Adrian is most punctual. I do hope my firstimpression was not the right one, and that we sha'n't find him presentlywith his throat cut and wallowing in his blood on account of some sillyyoung woman!"
"Dear mamma," interposes Lady Gertrude, laughing, "what a terriblyold-fashioned surmise! No man nowadays kills himself for a false love;he only goes and gets another."
But, when the dinner-hour arrives, and no host presents himself to leadLady FitzAlmont into dinner, a great fear falls upon all the guests saveone, and confusion and dismay, and anxious conjecture reign supreme.
