A Search For A Secret: A Novel. Vol. 2

by G. A. Henty

  CHAPTER XII.

  AFTER THE BATTLE.

  How well I remember that morning, and the excitement into which we wereall thrown by the terrible news. "Burglary at Harmer Place. Reportedmurder of the younger Miss Harmer." And yet with all the excitementpeople were hardly surprised. Harmer Place had got an evil name now;folks shook their heads and spoke almost low when they mentioned it. Forthe last twenty-five years a curse seemed to hang over it and itsbelongings. The two elder brothers drowned, and all their intentions andplans set aside, and the property devolving to the very person they wereso determined to disinherit. Gerald Harmer killed, and all themelancholy circumstances attending his death. Herbert Harmer's adoptedchild's elopement, and his own sudden death, and all his intentionsfrustrated--as his brother's had been before--by the will being missing.This was, indeed, a long list of misfortunes, and up to this time it hadseemed almost as if Providence had decreed that it should prove a fatalinheritance to the Protestant who had, contrary to the will of his deadbrothers, taken possession of the old Roman Catholic property, andwrested it from the clutch of Mother Church. It had brought him nohappiness; his son's death had destroyed all his hopes and plans for thefuture; that son's daughter, whom he had reared with so much kindnessand care, had fled away from her home at night, and the news had dealthis deathblow; and then the missing will. It really seemed as if it wasfated that the Romish Church should have her own again, and the elderbrother's intention be carried out.

  The general community had wondered over the chain of events, and toldthe tale to strangers as an extraordinary example of a series ofunexpected events which had frustrated the best-laid plans and baffledall human calculation; while the few Catholics of the town instanced itas a manifest interposition of Providence on behalf of their Church. Butnow the tables seemed turned; and the "curse of Harmer Place," as itbegan to be called, appeared working anew against its Catholicpossessors.

  The news came to us while we were at breakfast, and we were allinexpressibly shocked. Papa at once ordered the carriage, and directlyit came to the door he started for Harmer Place to inquire himself as tothe truth of these dreadful reports. He returned in about an hour and ahalf, and brought quite a budget of news to us. When he arrived, he hadsent up his name, but Miss Harmer sent down word that Doctors Sadman andWilkinson were in attendance, and that therefore she would not troublehim to come in. Papa had felt a good deal hurt at the message, but hethought it was probably given because Miss Harmer, knowing how much theyhad injured him, was afraid that her sister might recognize him, and inthe state she was in, reveal something about the will. However, just asthe carriage was driving away, Dr. Sadman, who, from the window above,had seen papa drive up, came to the door and called after him. Papastopped the carriage, got out, and went back to speak to him. Dr. Sadmanparticularly wished him to come up to give them the benefit of hisopinion. Finding that Miss Harmer was not in the room, and that Angelawas insensible, and not likely ever to recover consciousness, he hadgone up with him. He had found her in a dying state, and he did notthink it at all likely that she would live more than a few hours. Shewas apparently dying from the effect of the shock upon the system, andthe terror and pain that she had undergone; for round one arm a piece ofstring was found which had cut completely into the flesh, probably forthe purpose of extorting the supposed place of concealment of plate,valuables, or money. She had not apparently received any injury which initself would have been sufficient to cause death, but she had had a veryheavy fall upon the back of her head which might have affected herbrain. The symptoms, however, from which she was suffering were notexactly those which would have been caused by concussion of the brain;and although the fall had assisted to produce the evil, yet, on thewhole, her death would be attributable rather to the mental shock, theterror and distress, than to actual bodily violence.

  Papa had heard all the particulars of the night's events as far as MissHarmer had told the other medical men. She had herself received a veryheavy blow from some blunt instrument, either a short stick, or thebut-end of a pistol, which had left a very severe wound on the forehead;from this she was suffering so much, that, much as she wished it, shewas quite unable to sit up or take her place by her sister's side, butwas in bed herself; still, although much shaken, there was nothingserious to be apprehended. Miss Harmer had fired a pistol at one of theassailants, and it was believed that she had wounded him, as a few spotsof blood were visible on the floor and on the staircase. She hadrecognized none of the figures, of whom there were three; they were, shebelieved, all masked, but whether they were tall or short, or indeedabout any particulars of them she was quite ignorant, for she had seenonly her sister surrounded by them, had rushed forward, fired almostunconsciously, and been felled to the ground an instant afterwards,first seeing Angela's chair thrown backwards with her in it. The blowwhich she had received in the fall, and the laceration of the arm by thestring, were the only signs of violence which could be found on Angela'sperson. The police were up there, but had at present discovered no cluewhatever to guide them in their search; one of the men on duty in thetown remembered that about three o'clock, a light cart, with two men init, had driven in on that road, and another had seen such a cart go outthrough Westgate, but there was at present nothing to connect it withthe affair. A detective had been telegraphed for at Miss Harmer'srequest, and was expected down in the afternoon.

  Papa told all this in a very grave and serious way. I was very muchshocked indeed, and for some time after he had done, we were all silent,and then Polly said, "Was anything stolen, papa?" She asked the questionso earnestly that I looked up almost in surprise; with Miss Harmerdying, it seemed such a very indifferent matter whether the robbers hadstolen anything or not, that it appeared to me an extraordinary questionfor Polly to ask so anxiously. But papa did not seem to think so, for heanswered as seriously as she had spoken,--

  "Only a watch and chain, and a diamond cross from the dressing-table."

  "And was any attempt made to break open the plate-closets and placesbelow?"

  "No, my dear," papa said, "none at all."

  They were both silent again, and I looked surprised from one to theother. What could this question of a few things matter, when a woman wehad known so long was dying? And yet Polly and papa evidently thought itdid, and that it mattered very much too, for they looked very meaninglyat each other.

  "I don't understand you," I said; "you are laying so much stress uponwhat can be of no consequence to people of their wealth; and you both,by your looks, seem to think it really a matter of consequence."

  Polly and papa were still silent. "What is it, papa?" I said wearily; "Iam stronger now, and I think it would take a great deal to affect memuch,--nothing that I could be told here certainly. Please tell me whatyou mean, for although I really do not see how this robbery at MissHarmer's can be more serious than it seems, for that is bad enough,still I worry myself thinking about it."

  "The idea, my dear Agnes," papa said very gravely, "which has struck me,and which I have been thinking over ever since I left Harmer Place, andwhich I see has also occurred to Polly, is that this is no robbery atall; that is, that robbery was no part of the original scheme. I am verymuch afraid that it is an effort on the part of Robert Gregory to getpossession of the will."

  I had said that I should not be shocked, but I was, terribly--more thanI had believed I could be by anything not connected with Percy.

  "Why, papa," I asked presently, "what makes you think such a dreadfulthing?"

  "The whole proceedings of these men, my dear--so different from whatmight be expected of them. Ordinary burglars, on entering a house, wouldhave proceeded at once to the pantry and plate-room, forced the doors,and stripped them of their contents, and would have done this in themost noiseless manner possible, to avoid disturbing any one in thehouse. These men, on the contrary, never seem to have gone near theseplaces--at any rate there are no signs of their having attempted toforce them; they appear to have gone straight to the bedroom of th
eyounger and weaker of the sisters, to have seized, gagged her, andcruelly tortured her to make her reveal the hiding-place--of what?Surely not of the plate; they might with a little search have found thatfor themselves. Not of money or jewellery: there was hardly likely tohave been much in the house, assuredly nothing which Angela Harmer wouldnot at once have given up rather than endure the pain she must havesuffered. What then could they have wanted? To my mind, unquestionably,the will; and as no one but you and Harry are interested in itsdiscovery, with the exception of Robert Gregory, I fear there is nodoubt of his being the author of this scheme, and indeed that he waspersonally engaged in it."

  It was some time before I continued the conversation: I was sick andfaint at the news. The idea of Sophy, whom I had known and liked sowell, being the wife of a man who had committed burglary, if not murder,was too shocking, and it was some time before I recovered myself.

  Polly spoke next: "The only thing, papa, is, why should AngelaHarmer--who so nearly revealed where the will was to me--so obstinatelyrefuse to do so even under such terrible pain and terror?"

  "My dear, when you saw her, you acted upon her feelings of compassionfor Agnes here, and for a time shook her rooted faith that she wasacting rightly. In this case, there was nothing to act upon herconviction; she felt no doubt, while refusing to betray where the willwas hidden, that she was suffering as a martyr for the good of herChurch, and with a martyr's strength and firmness she underwent what wasinflicted upon her. I have no doubt that this idea will occur to MissHarmer as it has done to us, and in that case there is little doubt thatRobert Gregory will be speedily arrested; for as I hear he is awell-known betting man in London, the police will be pretty certain tofind him. And the last evil arising from it is that Miss Harmer will,undoubtedly, in that case destroy the will. And now, my dear, take aglass of wine, and then lie down upon the sofa till dinnertime; get tosleep if you can, and do not worry yourself about it. As to the will, wehave already given up all hopes of ever finding it, so that it will makeno difference now, whether it is destroyed or not. Polly, you see thatAgnes does as I order her. We must run no risks of her being laid upagain."

  At about half-past eleven, papa was told that a man wished to speak tohim, and the tanner of Rochester was shown in.

  "I am speaking to Dr. Ashleigh?"

  Papa bowed.

  "I am not come to consult you about myself, sir, but about some oneelse."

  "It is of no use describing his symptoms to me," the doctor said, "Icannot prescribe unless I see the patient himself."

  "I do not wish you to do so, sir, but it is a very peculiar business,and I hardly know how to begin. The person who sent me, told me that youmight be implicitly trusted."

  "I hope so, sir!" Dr. Ashleigh said haughtily; "but as I am not fond ofsecrets or mysteries, I would rather you went to some other medical man.Good morning!"

  The man made no motion to go.

  "No offence is intended, doctor; but when the safety of three or fourmen, including perhaps myself, is concerned, one cannot be too careful.At any rate I will give you my message, and if after that you don'tcome, why I shall have had a ride of nigh thirty miles here, and as muchback, for nothing. The words of my message are, 'Sophy's husband,Robert, is dying, and begs you to go and see him.'"

  Papa had listened to the first part of the man's speech with evidentimpatience, but when the message came, his face changed altogether.

  "Good heavens!" he exclaimed, "then my suspicions are correct.Unfortunate man! He is dying of a pistol wound, is he not?"

  "Something like it," the man answered. "Will you come, sir?"

  "Come? Of course I will. I would go to any man to whom my aid could beuseful, and to me it is a matter of no consequence whether he is a goodor a bad one; in any case I will for Sophy's sake do what I can for herhusband, bad as I am afraid he is. And you?" and the doctor shrunk backfrom the man; "What have you to do with him?"

  "Nothing, I am glad to say," the man answered. "Till I got into the townI did not know where or what the job was; but from what every one istalking about at the place where I put up my horse, I am afraid I doknow now, and a shocking bad affair it seems; although if what I hear ofit be true, I can't make head or tail of what they were up to. Two ofthe men were at least too old hands to have gone on in the way they did.There is something beyond what one sees."

  "You are right!" Dr. Ashleigh said; "they never went for plunder at all.I can guess very well what they did go for, but that is of noconsequence now. How, then, are you concerned in the affair?"

  "They came to me and hired my horse and cart. I asked no questions, butperhaps had my own thoughts what they were up to; but that was nobusiness of mine. Well, sir, this morning they came back with a dyingman in the cart, and I had nothing for it but to take him in."

  "Where is he hurt?" the doctor asked.

  "Right in the side, just above the hip. I am afraid it is all up withhim; the long journey, and the loss of blood, have pretty well done forany chance he might have had. Still we could not let him die like a dog,and he told us he was sure you would come."

  The doctor nodded. "How had I better get over there?"

  "I looked at the train book, when I went in to get a glass of beer afterputting up my horse, and I see there is a train for London at oneo'clock which gets there about four; and then you could go down by theRochester train, and get there between six and seven."

  "The very thing!" papa said. "For it is very probable that suspicionwill fall upon this man; and as I am known to be, in a certain sort ofway, likely to go to him in case he were hurt, it would be sure toattract notice, and might lead to his being traced, were I to take mycarriage over as far as Rochester. I am afraid by what you say that itwill be of no use, but I will bring my instruments with me: I practisedas a surgeon for some years as a young man. How shall I find the place?"

  "I will meet you at the station, sir. I shall give my horse another twohours' rest, and shall then get over there easily by six o'clock."

  After a brief consultation of a time-table to see the exact hour atwhich the first train from London, which papa could catch, would reachRochester, the tanner took his leave. And papa packed up such things ashe would require, and then came into the dining-room--where I had goneto sleep on the sofa--and called Polly out. He then shortly told herwhat had happened, and enjoined her on no account to tell me, but to sayonly when I woke that he had been sent for into the country, and that itwas a case which would keep him all night. He also left a short note,saying that he should be detained another night, for her to give to methe next evening should he not return; and he promised that if it shouldoccur that his absence was still further prolonged, he would himselfwrite to me to explain it in some way. These plans were carried out, andI had not the least suspicion at the time that papa's absence was causedby anything unusual; indeed it was some months afterwards before I heardthe truth of the matter.

  When Dr. Ashleigh got down to Rochester, at a quarter past six, he foundthe tanner waiting for him, according to agreement.

  "How is he now?" he asked.

  "Very bad, sir! Going fast, I should say."

  They went out of the station, and through the town, and then out towardsthe country.

  When the houses became fewer, and there was no one to overhear them, thedoctor said, "You tell me that three men hired a cart of you: I supposeyou knew them before?"

  "The other two I knew before, but not this one."

  "You live here, then?"

  "Yes, sir; I have a small tanyard. The truth is, sir, my father was atanner down in Essex. He's dead long since. As a boy, I never took tothe business, but was fonder of going about shooting,--yes, andsometimes poaching. At last I married a farmer's daughter near, and waspretty steady for a bit; still, sometimes I would go out with my oldmates, and once our party fell in with the gamekeepers. Some one fired agun, and then we had a regular fight, and there were some bad hurtsgiven on both sides. We got off then; but some of us were known, and soI went
straight up to London,--and there, sir, I met the men who werehere to-day, and a good many others like them, and got my living as Ibest could. At last my wife, who had joined me in London, got news thatsome relative had died and left her a little money. So she persuaded meto give it all up; and as we heard of this little place being for sale,we bought it and settled down here--that's three years ago. But I havenever been able quite to get rid of my old work. They knew where I was,and threatened, if I did not help them, they would peach on me: so Iagreed that I would hide anything down here for which the scent was toohot in London. Of course they pay me for it. But I mean to give it up;this will be a good excuse, as it is a terrible risk. Besides, they havenot sent me down many things lately, so I expect they have found anotherplace more handy. At any rate, I mean to give it up now."

  "Does your tanyard pay?"

  "Just about pays, sir. You see I do most of the work myself, and onlyhave a man or two in now and then, as I dared not trust any one: but Icould do very well with it. I have a good bit of money--some my wife's,and some that I have saved; but I did not dare to extend the placebefore for fear that I might get seized at any time. But I have to-daymade up my mind that I will set to work at it on a better scale, and cutthe other work altogether. Here we are, sir; through this gate."

  The door was opened by the tanner's wife.

  "Thank God you are here, sir! I was afraid he would not last till youcame."

  The doctor followed her upstairs to the wounded man's bedside. He wouldnot have known him again. There was not a vestige of colour now in hisface. His whole complexion was of a ghastly ashen hue, his cheeks hadshrunk and fallen in, deep lead-coloured rings surrounded his eyes, andhis lips were pinched and bloodless, and drawn back, showing the regularteeth between them. His hands, which lay outside the coverlid, werebloodless and thin, and the nails were a deep blue. A slight movement ofhis eyes, and an occasional twitching of his fingers, were the onlysigns of life which remained. Dr. Ashleigh shook his head, he could beof no use here. Probably had he even seen him immediately after thewound was given, he could have done but little; now he was beyond allearthly skill. Dr. Ashleigh took his hand in his own, and felt thepulse, which beat so lightly and flickeringly that its action couldhardly be perceived. He looked for a moment to see where the ball hadentered, not that it mattered much now; and then shook his head, andturned to the others who were standing by.

  "I am glad I came over," he said; "it is a satisfaction; but I can donothing for him now--he is sinking fast. I do not think he will liveanother hour."

  In less than an hour the change came: for a moment the doctor thoughtthe eyes expressed recognition; the lips moved, and the name of Sophywas breathed out; and then the breath came fainter and at longerintervals, the fingers twitched no more, the fluttering pulse ceased tobeat. Robert Gregory was dead.

  Dr. Ashleigh went downstairs with the tanner and his wife, and askedthem what they intended to do about the body.

  "I am thinking, sir, of putting some tramp's clothes on him, and layinghim out on some straw in one of the sheds, as if he had died there. ThenI shall go to the parish medical officer, whom I know something of, andsay that a tramp I gave leave to sleep for a night in my shed is dead;that he gave me a pound he had in his pocket to take care of for him,and that I will put what may be necessary to it in order that he may beburied without coming upon the parish. I have no doubt that he will giveme the necessary certificate without any trouble. The most he will dowill be to send down his assistant; and in that dark shed, he is notlikely, with the minute's inspection he will give, to see anything outof the ordinary way. Should the worst come to the worst, which is notlikely, I must make the best story out of it I can; if it come to theworst of all----"

  "Then you must say I was present at his death, and I will come forwardto clear you. But of course I should not wish it to be known I was here,if it can possibly be avoided; both because his name would then comeout--which would be very painful for others--and for other reasons whichI cannot explain. Here is some money for the necessary expenses."

  "No, sir," the man said, drawing back, "I have been very well paid,indeed. What shall I have put on the grave?"

  "Merely R. G., aged thirty. If at any time his friends choose to put upa headstone with more upon it, they can do so; but that will besufficient to point out the place. And now goodbye, my friend, do as youhave told me you intend to do, and you will be far happier, as well asyour wife."

  "I mean to, sir; I will never touch a dishonest penny again. And now,sir, I will just walk with you far enough to put you in the straightroad for the train."

  And so the doctor went back to London, getting there at about eleveno'clock. He did not hear from the tanner for some time, but about threemonths afterwards met him in Canterbury, to which town he had come overto buy some bark. The man then said that he had quite given up thereceiver business, and become an honest man; that he had enlarged hisplace, and now employed three or four men regularly, and was doing verywell. He said, too, that the funeral of Robert Gregory had passed offwithout any difficulty, for that the parish officer had, as heanticipated, given him a certificate of the death without taking thetrouble of going to see the body.