‘Why didn’t you come this afternoon—when I wanted you?’
‘Did you want me?’ he cried eagerly.
‘Not specially.’
‘But a little?’
‘No.’
‘You just said you did!’
‘Did I?’
‘Yes, yes. But can’t I come in?’
‘The door is fastened, I expect.’
‘Ella!’
‘Well?’
‘One word at the door; I won’t cross the step.’
‘At the back door then.’
‘Any door you please!’
Again she laughed, that panther-like creature with the Leonardo mouth, the travestied Helen. Armstrong shivered. They had ceased breeding his kind of woman nowadays; you did not find the kindness, the simplicity, the fineness, the honesty. . . . The thought of honesty gave him pause; for at least he had met that in Ape’s-face. Glad to be out of the house which had contrived to affront his dearest recollections, he put on a hat and coat, and went out into the unfriendly night. As he passed the sitting-room a clock struck the half-hour after eleven. He would be unpunctual at his appointed place.
He had closed the front door softly behind him and stepped out into the drive towards the avenue, when he suddenly saw a man leap out of the shelter of the trees and come running towards the house. He ran with his head down so that the light did not strike his face. So running he nearly collided with Armstrong; their shoulders brushed, and for one moment Armstrong had a glimpse of his features, then he had vanished round the angle of the wall towards the back. The man was the image of Arthur.
Armstrong paused, uncertain whether to return or proceed, then he went on. He would tell Ape’s-face and she should decide upon their course of action. How could he be expected to make a final decision at so short a notice? He hurried towards the avenue, then came to a sudden stop, his mouth agape. The first tree in the line had appeared to move and suddenly become alive; it made him fear for his senses. Curled up between the projecting roots and the brown moss, which proclaimed a vanished limb, a shrivelled face gazed out at him from the shadows. The ancient hues of her dress combined so well with the weather-worn bark as to seem identical, and the warped and withered outlines of her body had everything in common with the wind-tortured trunk. Time and weather had moulded these two creatures into semblance of aspect and form; one seemed as little human as the other.
The woman would have looked like some hideous growth of merely vegetable production if it had not been for her glinting eyes; they were not bright but dimmed, like glass marbles or beach pebbles when the sea is off them. Her face was bowed almost to her knees so that her chin rested on their sharp edges under the ragged clothing. The thick heavy boots on her feet shewed underneath the frayed skirt like knots in the root on which she sat. She looked at Armstrong and blinked witlessly, but with a certain malignity that made him walk on again as quickly as could be, with a passing impression of withered lips smiling over toothless gums.
He went at a good pace down the avenue, stumbling now and then over roots and fallen branches but still making good headway, and over his head the bare boughs swung and clattered in a heavy breeze with which he prepared to make battle when he came out on to the open downs. On the open downs, however, there was not a breath stirring; the place looked more empty and vacant than he had ever known it.
The mist having drifted somewhat off his path he prepared to descend through the plantation and so reach the house by the way that cut elbow-wise across the front of it. The fir-trees dripped heavily with moisture on either hand as he went, great pale beads of sweat that shone under the stars.
There was a sufficiency of light to make his footing easy. In these trees there was no motion.
As he drew near the fringe of the plantation a kind of dread at seeing the house in this night aspect suddenly overtook him; and when he had shaken that off the absurdity of being seen under Miss Josephine’s window assailed him wildly. At his age too ! And then all at once he found himself emerging under the gaze of all those shuttered windows along the frontage. All were fastened except those in the gallery and one beside it. The house looked singularly like a discarded mask, conveying a notion of meaninglessness and disuse; it had none of the awesome and suggestive feeling which he had expected, and in which all his former experiences of the place would have confirmed him. He struck across the grass where the snow had melted in patches, and came close down under the shadow of the walls, taking always great care to step very delicately. There was no sound but his own footsteps, and no movement but his own. His eyes were bent attentively on the path before him. so that he could not possibly miss the key, in whatever direction it might have been thrown: and it was not one of the least surprises which startled him that evening when a voice spoke not more than an arm’s-length away, calling him by name. He did not mistake the voice.
‘Miss Josephine!’ he cried.
‘I’ve been waiting for half an hour,’ she continued breathlessly, ‘and not knowing what to do.’
‘You must make up your mind now, and quickly too,’ rejoined Armstrong;
‘both your brothers are this moment at the Drylches: if they have not met it will be a providential matter, and not that girl’s fault either. I came to tell you as well as to rescue the key.’
‘Why, that explains everything then,’ she cried, ‘and there isn’t one moment to lose.’
‘So I should suppose,’ he said, ‘and you can tell me what has happened as we go.’
She drew the thick cloak she wore across her shoulders more closely round her, and pulled the hood over her head. ‘I doubt if any one in the house is waking tonight, it feels stiller than a tomb,’ she said; ‘it was partly that which roused me.’
They went quickly back across the grass, making wider tracks beside the old ones.
‘Well,’ said Armstrong, ‘what happened after I left ? You had better take my arm through these trees, or you may fall down over roots, and that would delay us.’
She put her hand out obediently. ‘It was not until dinner-time that father made mention of Arthur; he was very vexed when he noticed his absence, and questioned me. I said that Arthur had been with me most of the morning and had gone off for a long walk before lunch, saying he would not be home until the evening. For once in her life Aunt Ellen defended Arthur, and suggested that the fog might have delayed him. The idea did not seem to soothe father; oddly enough he became angry with Aunt Ellen. I had only seen him angry with her once, years ago. In consequence we were all very silent after dinner, and she went up earlier to bed than usual. Godfrey soon followed, and then father and I were left alone. He was a good deal disturbed and walked perpetually from one end of the room to the other, sometimes going to the front door, sometimes to the gallery door, to hear if Arthur might not be coming. At last he came in and sat down beside me, asking quite gently if I thought Arthur was unhappy. I could not say anything but that I thought so. ‘If your mother had lived——’ he began; ‘but then there is always Ellen,’ he said. After this he said he would have the gallery door unlocked in case Arthur should arrive, but that he should not wait up much longer. We sat on either side the fire for yet another half-hour. Then the clock struck the half after ten. He got up, bade me goodnight, and having lighted my candle (he never has done that before) we went upstairs. I heard him go past my door to his room, and then the house went quite silent. I sat by my window for some time waiting. I had always fancied there was a curious expectancy in the air about Christmas for days before; but tonight there was nothing of that, only a queer sense of movement throughout the house. I was almost afraid to go out into the passage. So I told myself how you would be expecting me to do all we arranged at the window this afternoon. So first I went down the gallery to Godfrey’s door, and waited outside a little to hear if he were moving. As I listened there certainly came no sound from inside his room, but far down the gallery I could make out a noise like the rapid indrawing of breath after br
eath, that seemed to suck up the air like some sort of draught. I had never heard anything quite so strange before, and it puzzled me. Besides, I did not at all like the idea of returning in its direction, as I knew I must do to reach father’s room. However, having turned the key in Godfrey’s door, I left it in the lock, and crept back again, being very careful to keep as much in shadow as possible all the way. The starlight shone in through the windows, but I remembered there was no moon. And always as I crept forward I looked carefully about to see if there was anything to show what could be making that strange noise.
‘Though I saw nothing, it continued, making a peculiar rumour in the place that seemed to sway the walls and the entire fabric of the gallery, and yet one could not precisely say that anything moved. It was only that one seemed suddenly aware of the transparence in everything, and of the certainty that ether flows round every atom. This thing seemed pulsing through the other. But it is hard to tell you at all what one means. At last I came to father’s door, and I turned the key also in his lock, leaving it there. The queer pulsing motion was still evident as I made my way back to my own room, but I could not rest until I had looked once more down the gallery to try and explain it to myself. As I stood at the turning just outside the guest-room, the air seemed suddenly drawn away from me, and sucked together in one long breath, so that I fell against the wall as if all support and strength had been taken from me. At the same time I saw a movement in the gallery that corresponded with the sound; and yet I could only describe it to you as something like the body made by the eddies in a stream.’
‘I don’t understand you,’ he said sharply.
‘It comes in the end to be a permanent body, although it is always flowing, because it is made of a thousand small movements which will be running perpetually in that one pattern. And the pattern is the same in the scales of fishes and the feathers of birds, something winged and pointed, something swift like flames and just as continuous. It flowed there in the gallery under the star-light, and yet seemed to gather volume every moment so that the pattern was knit closer together like the meshes in a net tightly drawn. That gave it the appearance as of the covering to something behind. It surged against the walls and the windows like a thousand hands beating about—
no, wings, not hands. Then suddenly the door on to the slopes gave way, opening wide, and the thing swept out of the opening, drawing the air after it, and if it had drawn all that was in the house with it, and myself besides, I should not have been surprised. I leant against the wall for some little time afterwards, and then went back to my room. Until presently I heard a clock striking in the hall I forgot about our plans and the danger we feared. For myself I was not in the least afraid. The house seemed sweet and full of repose, as it never had been before. It was whilst I sat rejoicing over this that suddenly I became aware of its reason. The thing, in leaving the house free, had got out upon the downs; so that our peace was only other people’s menace. I determined to speak to you about it. What you tell me explains all.’
‘Perhaps it may,’ he said, ‘but there is a very practical side to the issue of this night’s work.’
‘Of course,’ she returned, ‘one would expect nothing else. But why doubt my side?’
‘I do not doubt you, anyhow,’ he replied, and at that both fell silent.
By now they had got to the edge of the plantation and come out upon the wide downs. Ape’s-face paused for a moment.
‘Do you feel how quiet it is here too?’ she asked in a low voice. ‘The Christmas peace is quite undisturbed. I wonder which way the thing went.’
‘At least it leaves no horrors in its track,’ he rejoined, and urged her on with a pressure of the arm.
Now they hurried again until the avenue rose clearly into sight.
‘Fifty minutes,’ said Armstrong, looking at his watch, ‘and that is time enough, Heaven knows!’
They were now almost running, and arrived at the end of the avenue in a somewhat breathless condition, to find that most of the windows in the house were lighted up, and a general air of life was apparent in the place unusual at such an hour. It was at this moment that Armstrong stopped abruptly and looked over his shoulder.
Ape’s-face, arrested perforce, glanced at him impatiently.
‘Why do you stop’ she cried, releasing his arm on the instant.
‘When I passed before,’ he answered, starting on again, ‘there was a horrible tramp under the tree, glowering at the house like a witch. She has gone, you see, and I am inclined to think her part of a dream.’
‘A tramp!’ Ape’s-face repeated, ‘what was she like?’
‘Like the tree itself,’ he answered, ‘brown and withered.’
‘That’s no description,’ she said sharply, and seemed about to ask for a better, when they arrived at the door. She put her hand on the latch at once and pushed past Armstrong into the passage. Coming close upon her heels he could see over her head into the parlour.
Both fire and lamp were alight, so that the entire room was visible. Ape’s-face had evidently seen something there which caused her to enter, for she crossed the threshold without a moment’s hesitation. Standing in the doorway he could now see that ‘Ella’ stood by the hearth. Without flinging back her hood, Ape’s-face approached the girl, who did not at first hear her footsteps.
In a moment more, however, she did look up and recoiled with a little cry.
‘Where are they?’ Ape’s-face demanded in her queer, harsh voice.
The girl drew still further back with every sign of repugnance.
‘I don’t know who you are or what you mean,’ she said fiercely.
‘Where are my brothers?’ Ape’s-face cried, now pushing back the hood so that her swart face shone clearly in the firelight. The contrast between the two women could not have been more clearly marked as they stood eyeing one another.
‘Oh,’ said the other, her face settling into a composed smile, ‘I suppose then you are Miss Delane-Morton; but I do wish,’ she added pettishly, ‘that you would not come in upon one in that abrupt way. It is the fourth time tonight I have been badly startled, and if anything more happens I shall scream.’
‘I don’t want to frighten you,’ said Ape’s-face more gently, ‘but can you tell me where my brothers have gone?’
‘First,’ the girl continued quite unheeding, ‘there was your brother Godfrey under my window, and then there was Arthur round the corner like a burglar, and then there was that awful tramp woman in the tree when Mr Lush rode away after them. I think you down people are the queerest I have ever met.’
‘They were both here then!’ cried Ape’s-face again; ‘and now where are they? And why did Mr Lush ride after them?’
‘Oh, there was quite a scene,’ she began composedly, but at something in Ape’s-face’s expression she paused and became somewhat confused. ‘I really did not mean to make mischief,’ she looked in the other’s eyes and again halted; ‘at least not such mischief,’ she amended, reddening. ‘They began quarrelling, and then they both ran out into the darkness, and then . . .’
‘But which way did they go, and how long since?’ cried Ape’s-face desperately.
‘Twenty minutes, or half an hour, perhaps more. I don’t know. They went out through the yard at the back. I sent Mr Lush after them on his horse; he was just going to bed. He said the mist was thick that way but . . .’
‘Can’t you shew us the direction?’ Ape’s-face insisted, catching her by the arm. ‘They may have murdered each other by now.’
The girl began to laugh, but again something in the face before her changed her demeanour. ‘You don’t mean that?’ she said on a note more of curiosity than belief.
Ape’s-face nodded. ‘I do indeed,’ she said; ‘will you come?’
The girl looked at her strangely, hesitated a moment, then, ‘This way,’
she said, and made towards the passage.
‘You shall have my cloak,’ Ape’s-face cried, and threw the thing across the
other’s shoulders. It was dark in the passage, but they could see that the door at the back still stood open, and that the mat at the threshold was tossed aside and much trampled.
The three crossed the yard together in silence.
‘You can’t see far for the mist,’ the girl said, ‘but it sounded as if he went this way,’ and she opened the gate which led on to the downs behind the farm. She passed through and they followed.
XIII
Brothers
AT THE GATE THEY ALL STOOD for a moment listening, to hear if by any chance the noise of horses’ hoofs could be distinguished in that intense silence. But any sound which the night might have revealed the mist had hidden. Everything seemed embraced and absorbed by the heavy veil which lay across the country before them. They could only see the ground at their feet quite faintly. The snow was slurred and smirched there with the trampling of men and the hoofs of horses. Armstrong pointed them out to the two women.
‘We follow those,’ he said.
After the gate had been passed the marks on the snow became less confused, displaying themselves across the downs in some sort of ordered sequence, which yet puzzled the party who followed. For the marks of one horse’s hoofs went parallel with another’s, as if they had ridden side by side the whole way along. And this scarcely tallied with the girl’s account of the violent quarrel which had taken place in her presence between the two brothers. Armstrong turned upon her as they went.
‘I must ask for a more detailed account of your quarrel,’ he said.
‘Must you?’ she returned insolently, ‘have you enrolled yourself among this band of maniacs too?’
‘You had better take care what you say,’ Ape’s-face said suddenly. ‘I think you have been playing with things that are bigger and more dangerous than you can imagine. Don’t you feel the downs tonight are different ? Don’t you feel there is something strange abroad?’
‘Yes,’ the girl returned reluctantly, ‘but I’m sure I never brought it there: don’t you try to saddle me with all the blame . . .’
Ape's Face Page 14
