CHAPTER XXIV.
A MISTAKE
It will be remembered that Emmie had, in the morning, tried the patience of Bruce by her strange indecision regarding a second change of apartments. It was now no superstitious fancy which made Emmie look upon the room next the haunted chamber as a post of peril. She entertained a dread lest Harper should on some night omit his usual precautions, and that Bruce should discover the presence of his dangerous neighbour. What then might ensue? The spirited young man would never suffer himself to be tied by such an oath as his sister had taken; and of the consequences which might follow his refusal Emmie trembled to think. It was this peril to Bruce which made Emmie regard a change of rooms as desirable on her brother’s account, though certainly not on her own.
“It would be very dreadful to me to know that only a wall divided me from that wicked man who threatened my life!” thought poor Emmie. “How could I rest if I heard him stealthily moving about so near, even though aware that he could not possibly reach me?” Had the maiden known that there was actually a door in that dividing wall, her terror would have been yet greater. But Emmie believed that the corridor entrance being bricked up, there was no outlet from the haunted chamber but by the door which opened on the secret stairs. Ignorant as she was of the means of nearer communication between the two apartments, it was but the strain on her nerves that Emmie dreaded when suggesting her own return to the room which had been assigned to her at the first.
But this dread was so great, that, as we have seen, Emmie could not in the morning summon up courage to press the arrangement on Bruce. She had wavered, hesitated, drawn back. But Emmie had learned much during the last few painful hours; the effect which her uncle’s warnings had failed to produce, followed the solemn teachings of conscience by the widow’s death-bed. Humbly and prayerfully Emmie now resolved to bend all her efforts to conquer mistrust, to subdue the opposition of shrinking nature, and obey God’s will at however painful a cost. Emmie determined to brave Bruce’s displeasure at her apparent inconsistency and folly, and return to the hated room, in which her danger would at any rate be less than that of her brother.
But Emmie had on that evening no opportunity of carrying out her resolution. Bruce returned to Myst Court at his usual hour, but looking and feeling so ill, that he could not be troubled with anything in the way of household arrangements. He had one of the severe attacks of headache to which the young man was subject.
“I shall not be with you at dinner to-day,” said Bruce to his sister; “like a bear, I shall keep in my den, and have my growl out by myself. I’ve my fire ready lit, my kettle on the hob, and my little tea-caddy on the table. I want nothing but quiet and rest, and shall be all right in the morning.”
Bruce was proverbially a bad patient, and would never submit to what he called coddling. Emmie knew that he now meant what he said, and that she should only annoy her brother by offering to sit beside him, or bring him food which he would not touch. The brother and sister, therefore, bade each other good-night; and Bruce, taking a lighted candle, with slow step mounted the staircase, then drew back the heavy tapestry curtain, and passed on to his own apartment.
The fire blazed and crackled cheerily. Bruce, instead of going to rest at once, drew a chair in front of it, seated himself with his feet on the fender, and pressing his hot forehead with his hand, remained for some time in absolute stillness. He let his mind rest as well as his frame, not fatiguing it by following out any definite chain of ideas.
Thus young Trevor remained till he heard from below the sound of the gong which summoned the family to dinner. About five minutes afterwards, Bruce raised his head to listen to a different sound, much nearer to where he sat. It came from a place from whence he had never before heard the faintest noise. There was – he could not be mistaken – the voice of some one speaking in the haunted chamber!
Bruce’s sensation on hearing it was not that of fear, scarcely even that of curiosity. When once young Trevor had taken an idea into his mind, he was wont to hold it with a pertinacity which savoured of obstinacy. Bruce was very slow to own, even to himself, that he had made a mistake. The notion now in the young man’s brain was that his giddy brother had determined to try his courage by playing on him some practical joke. Vibert’s sudden proposal to go up to London Bruce considered but as an attempt to throw dust into his eyes, and to put him off his guard; and the elder brother smiled to himself at the idea of Vibert’s imagining that he really could take him in by so transparent an attempt at deception.
“Vibert is no more in London at this moment than I am,” had been the reflection of Bruce. “He never thought of going thither till I casually let out that it is possible to enter the haunted chamber.” And now, when a voice was heard in that chamber, Bruce but knitted his brow, and muttered impatiently to himself, “Could he not have kept his foolery for a better time; I am in no mood for nonsense to-night.”
Another voice seemed to reply to the first, both speaking in low tones, and not distinctly enough for the import of their words to be understood by the listening Bruce. Still his suspicions were not aroused, for the power to mimic various tones was one of the accomplishments which added to Vibert’s popularity in ladies’ society. Then followed a creaking sound, as of the winding of a windlass, or the turning of the screw of a press. This puzzled Bruce, and made him alter his first intention of simply locking the door of communication between the two rooms, and so imprisoning the pseudo-ghost till the morning. Young Trevor, of course, knew nothing of the third door of the bricked-up chamber, or the secret staircase beyond it.
“I may as well put an end to this folly at once,” said Bruce, rising and looking around for some convenient weapon with which to chastise, or rather to alarm, the disturber of his repose. He took up his gun, but did not attempt to load it. Why should he do so when he had no intention of startling the household and frightening his sister by the sudden report of fire-arms? Vibert would not be able to tell by a glance whether the gun were or were not loaded. The object of Bruce was to frighten, but not to injure his brother.
The next thing to be done was to get the door-key, which Bruce had left on his mantel-piece. He scarcely expected to find it there still, but there it was.
“Vibert must have taken the precaution of replacing after using it,” thought Bruce, as he took up the key; “and he has been artful enough to leave my map still hanging up over the panel-door.”
Very softly Bruce now lifted off the large varnished map from its nail, and laid it down on the floor. His object was, by his sudden appearance with his gun, to startle his brother. Noiselessly Bruce turned the key in the lock, noiselessly pushed open the door in the panel, then suddenly sprang into the lighted chamber, with a loud exclamation of “Ha! have I caught you at it?” To Bruce’s amazement, as well as their own, he found himself confronted by Harper and Colonel Standish!
It is not to be denied that on his sudden recognition of these night-visitors, whom nought but an evil purpose could have brought to that place, to the heart of the youth “the life-blood thrilled with sudden start.” But Harper had now no timid girl to deal with. Raising his unloaded gun so as to cover now the one man, then the other, Bruce in a loud voice demanded, “Villains! what do ye here?”
Seizing the instant when the gun was pointed at his companion, Standish made a dart forwards and struck up the arm of Bruce. In another moment the two were locked in a deadly grapple.
Even then Bruce Trevor retained his presence of mind. Wrestling and struggling as he was, with a hand stronger than his own griping at his throat, and stifling the cry of “Robbers! help!” which would have burst from his lips, Bruce did his utmost to back through the doorway into his room. Could he but reach his bell-rope, he could bring his father and the servant to his assistance, and so overcome and perhaps capture his assailants. But in vain the young man struggled and strained every muscle in his frame, too closely grappled with by Standish to be able even to strike with the but-end of his gun. The strength of Bruce was failing, though not his courage; the odds were too heavy against him. While Standish, with throttling grasp, was pinning him against the wall, Harper, with some heavy instrument, came and struck the youth on the head. Bruce saw no more, felt no more than the one sharp pang of the blow. He fell heavily on the floor, at the mercy of the ruffians whose lurking-place he had on that night discovered!
In the meantime, the master of Myst Court was calmly sipping his claret, and telling to his daughter amusing stories of old adventures, all unconscious of the fearful scene going on within the walls of his own dwelling.
CHAPTER XXV.
STRANGE TIDINGS
When Emmie arose on the following morning, the landscape was covered with a soft mantle of snow. A few flakes were still falling, ever and anon, from a sky whence lowering clouds shut out the pale gleam of a winter daybreak.
Emmie arose with an earnest resolution on her mind – a resolution born of repentance, and gathering strength from prayer. She would no longer be the weak, selfish, useless being, whom every shadow could turn from the path of duty. She would listen for a Father’s guiding voice; she would cling to the helping Hand; she would, through God’s promised help, realize His protecting presence.
“I will beseech the Lord to enable me never, never again to mistrust His power or His love, or to doubt His promise that all things shall work together for good to His children,” said Emmie to herself, as she opened her Bible; and in that Bible she read the touching history of those who once walked unharmed in the burning fiery furnace.
It was thus that the weak soldier of Christ put on armour to resist her besetting sin. She would, ere the close of that day, sorely need that armour of proof.
When Emmie had finished her reading, she rose and looked forth from her casement. She saw an open vehicle approaching along the snow-covered road towards Myst Court. Three men were seated within it, besides the driver. It was with no common interest that the maiden watched their approach.
“Policemen! – London policemen! – and with an inspector!” exclaimed Emmie in surprise, for she recognized the familiar uniform of the officers of the law. “What can be bringing them hither? Can Harper’s secret have been discovered?”
Emmie’s heart thrilled with mingled fear and hope. Had the officers of justice received information of some secret plot, – had they come to search the house, – would light be thrown on its dark recesses? Such was Emmie’s hope, but still linked with a trembling fear. What might not Harper do, in his desperation, if he were driven to bay? Would he not conclude that her lips had betrayed his secret, that she had broken her solemn oath?
Emmie lost sight of the vehicle as it stopped before the large entrance-door of Myst Court, which was not overlooked by her window. She heard the policemen’s ring at the bell, she heard her father’s firm step as he descended the stairs to meet his early and most unexpected visitors. Emmie would have followed him at once, but the tresses of her long hair still floated down over her shoulders. The young lady was not independent of the help of a maid, and rang her bell for Susan.
Minutes passed, and no Susan appeared. There were sounds of steps and voices in the house, but not near Emmie’s apartment. Her curiosity made her impatient; she rang again, and more loudly; and as there was still delay in answering the summons, Emmie resolved to wait no longer, and herself gathered up and twisted into a knot, as best she might, her long, luxuriant hair. She had just finished her toilette when Susan entered at last, looking flushed and excited.
“I beg pardon, miss,” said the lady’s-maid; “but I could not come sooner. The police are here, and they have been questioning me and the other servants.”
“Have they come to search the house?” cried Emmie.
“Oh yes; they brought a warrant from London to do that,” was Susan’s reply.
Almost breathless with anxiety and hope, Emmie asked if they had searched the haunted chamber.
“That’s the first place they went to,” said Susan.
“And was any one there, any one arrested?” cried Emmie, trembling with eagerness to hear the reply, which might loose the knot of her perplexity, and free her for ever from haunting terrors.
“No one was found in this house, miss,” answered Susan, with a look of distress. “There were strange presses and instruments found, as I heard, in the haunted room, such as must have been used in forging those dreadful bank-notes.”
“Forging bank-notes! so that was the crime!” said Emmie under her breath. “And is any one suspected?” she inquired.
Susan at first looked perplexed, and avoided meeting her lady’s questioning glance. She then answered, “There is a warrant out for the arrest of Colonel Standish.”
“Colonel Standish!” echoed Emmie in surprise.
“The police had been at S – , at the White Hart, before they came here,” said Susan; “but the colonel had gone off, no one knows where. He had not been seen or heard of since yesterday morning. He owes a large debt at the hotel, and his stealing off thus, without paying it, makes every one think him guilty about the forged notes.”
“I never believed him to be a real gentleman,” observed Emmie. “But,” she added anxiously, “is he thought to have had no accomplice?” The maiden, bound by her oath, dared not so much as mention the name of Harper.
“I think that I hear master calling me,” said Susan; and without answering her lady’s question, she hurried from the apartment.
Emmie was standing near the window, and from it she now saw Joe leading her own pony-chaise from the stables towards the entrance of the house, and at a quick pace that told of haste. What was the vehicle brought for at so early an hour? Perhaps – so thought Emmie Trevor – to take one or more of the policemen back to S – . Yet scarcely so, for their own conveyance was waiting.
The maiden was not kept long in doubt. It was her own father that she saw in the chaise, a few seconds afterwards, urging on the pony to a frantic pace, plunging through the drifted snow as if life or death hung on its speed! Joe sat behind, while his master drove as Emmie had never seen her father drive before.
“What can be the matter?” exclaimed Emmie; “papa has forgotten even his greatcoat, and the weather is so cold, and it looks as if a storm would come on!” She watched the chaise till it disappeared behind intervening trees and brushwood.
Susan re-entered the room as her young lady, anxious and wondering, turned from the casement.
“Do you know where my father is going?” Emmie inquired of her maid.
“Master is going to London, miss,” was the answer; “but I doubt whether the pony can gallop fast enough to take him in time for the train. Master was in great haste, or he would have come to bid you good-bye.”
“What takes him to London?” cried Emmie.
“Oh, this bank-note forgery business,” said Susan, the look of uneasiness passing again over her face. “Master called me to give you a message, miss. He says that while the police have charge of the house, he – he does not wish you to speak to them, miss, or question them about the matter which has brought them here. Master is anxious about you. He has ordered me to take care that no one should disturb or intrude upon you, Miss Trevor.”
“The police are not likely to disturb the innocent, nor to intrude on ladies,” said Emmie, smiling from the pleasant assurance of safety conveyed by their presence in the mansion. “If my father does not wish me to question them or see them, of course his will shall be obeyed. I must depend on you for my information, or – where is my brother, Master Bruce?”
“I cannot tell, miss; he is not in the house; he must have gone out,” replied Susan in a flurried manner. The quiet, respectable, lady’s-maid had never before been examined by a superintendent of police, and her usual self-possession had forsaken her on that eventful morning.
“Bruce must have heard something of this warrant against Standish,” thought Emmie; “perhaps he has gone off early to S – , to help in the search after this daring impostor. I am glad that he felt well enough to do so; but how he could have received such early information of what has occurred, I know not.”
Emmie now went down-stairs to the breakfast room; there was no family-prayer in the confusion of that strange day. Susan brought in a tray with her young lady’s breakfast, in the absence of Joe. Emmie was not disposed to touch it. She lingered near the window, half hoping that Bruce might appear, or that her father, having missed the early train, might return to Myst Court. The policemen were very quiet; only the sound of a heavy tread, now and then, showed that they were in the house; but Emmie saw nothing of the officers of the law.
There were signs, however, that the unusual occurrences which had taken place at Myst Court had excited curiosity and interest in the surrounding neighbourhood. Knots of persons, not only from the hamlet, but apparently even from the town, came up the carriage-drive, as it seemed for no purpose but to stare up, open-mouthed, at the house. There was much shaking of heads and whispering amongst these spectators; but they had caught sight of the lady looking forth from the window, and nothing was uttered by them loud enough for its import to be distinguished by Emmie through the closed window.
Presently the wind rose in wild gusts, whirling the snow into blinding drifts; dark clouds were sweeping over the sky; all portended a violent storm; and the assembled crowd hastily retreated from the grounds of Myst Court, to seek refuge from the fury of the tempest.
“I would give anything to know whether Harper and his wife are under suspicion!” said Emmie to herself. “Susan is so strangely unwilling to give full information, she stammers as she answers my questions. I think that my father must have charged her to say nothing that could possibly agitate my nerves. He has desired that his weak daughter should be kept from excitement; and thus I, who have the deepest interest in all that is happening here, am more ignorant of what is going on than any servant in the household. I must question Susan again.”
Emmie was about to ring the bell for her maid; but before she did so, there was a quick tap at the door, and, without waiting for the lady’s “Come in,” Hannah entered the room. The cook looked more excited than Susan had done; but while, in the case of the latter, there had been an appearance of perplexity, if not of pain, with a desire to speak as little as she could, Hannah’s face, on the contrary, showed that she was not only brimming over with news, but that she had a vulgar pleasure in being the first to impart it. “Now I shall know all,” thought Emmie.
“La, miss!” exclaimed Hannah, “to think of you taking your breakfast so quietly here, as if nothing had happened, when there be such goings on in the place!”
“Any one arrested?” asked Emmie eagerly. She dared not mention the names of Harper or Jessel, lest, by turning suspicion on them, she should indirectly violate her oath.
“No one took up yet, that I know of, but he in London,” said Hannah. “Didn’t master go off like a shot, as soon as he heard the news!”
“What news? who was taken up?” asked Emmie.
“La, miss! you don’t mean to say that you’ve not heard of the scrape of poor Master Vibert, how he’s been catched and put into jail!”
Emmie staggered backwards as though she had been struck. “Put into jail! my brother! and on what pretext?” she exclaimed, grasping the table for support.
“I’ll tell you all about it – you ought to know, seeing you’re his own sister,” said Hannah, enjoying the excitement of the scene, and yet not without a touch of natural pity, on seeing the anguish which she inflicted. “Master Vibert went yesterday to London, you know; and when he got there, he went off straight to a jeweller (Golding, I think, is the name), and bought from him lots of jewels, diamonds, pearls, and all kinds of gim-cracks, worth more than a thousand pounds.”
“Impossible!” exclaimed Emmie.
“But he did buy the jewels, and paid for them too with a lot of nice, fresh, clean ten-pound notes,” said Hannah. “The shopman didn’t suspect nothing at first, ’cause he knew the young gentleman’s face so well, as he’d often dealt at the shop. But when the head of the firm, as they call him, came in the afternoon to look after the business (there’s nothing like a master’s eye, we know), he said the notes weren’t real and honest bank-notes; and off he went at once to the biggest police-station in London.”
“My brother has been the unconscious tool of a villain!” murmured Emmie, who felt certain that Vibert’s vanity and careless security must have made him the victim of the impostor who had called himself Colonel Standish.
“The p’lice and Mr. Golding drove off to Grosvenor Square,” continued Hannah, “for the jeweller knew the address; and a mighty bustle and fuss was caused by their coming, for there was an afternoon party, and the gentlefolk were amazed when they found that he who had been the merriest of them all was to be haled up afore a magistrate, on a charge of passing forged notes.”
“Did not my brother at once clear himself from suspicion?” cried Emmie, the paleness of whose face was now exchanged for the crimson flush of indignation and shame.
“Master Vibert said that the notes had been given to him by a Colonel Standish; and that he had bought the jewels for Colonel Standish; and that he would have sent them off at once to some address in Liverpool, only he had waited to have out his dance.”
“Then are the jewels safe in the hands of the police?” asked Emmie.
“Ay; I wish that this cheat of a colonel were so too,” replied Hannah. “Hanging is too good for him, say I; for sure and certain it was his wheedling which made poor Master Vibert do so wicked a thing. Some of the police were sent off to Liverpool, and some hurried down to S – . And first they searched the colonel’s lodgings, and then they came ferreting here.”
“Did they easily find their way into the bricked-up room?” asked Emmie, who knew of no way of access into it but by the secret staircase.
“Bless you, miss, what could be easier, when the door was wide open ’twixt that room and Master Bruce’s!”
Emmie started, and turned deadly pale.
“You may well start with surprise, miss; all of us were astonished to find there was any door in that wall. Lizzie declares that even she never knew that there was one, though she tidies the room every day. Master Bruce was so sly – he was – hanging the big map over the place!”
“How dare you speak thus of my brother?” cried Emmie.
“It ain’t my speaking, but every one’s speaking,” said Hannah, firing up at the word of rebuke. “The police say as how young master could not have slept in the one room for a month, and have been innocent as a babe of what was going on in the other. Ay, they said that of him, Miss Trevor, before they’d found a lot of the odd kind of paper of which bank-notes are made in one of his drawers. I wonder young master did not throw it all into the fire before he absconded.”
Emmie pressed her temples with both her icy cold hands. Her brain was reeling. Half unconsciously, she echoed the word “Absconded!”
“That’s what the p’lice called it; and they’re going to take out a warrant against Master Bruce,” said Hannah. “It’s plain he went off last night, for his bed had never been slept in.”
This was to Emmie the crowning horror. There had been a door then – an open door – between her brother’s room and that haunted by the presence of the unscrupulous Harper; and Bruce – the noble, the brave – had disappeared during the night!
“Leave me, leave me!” cried Emmie wildly; and, alarmed at the lady’s ghastly looks, the bearer of evil tidings at once obeyed her command. Hannah had said more than enough, and now retreated in alarm, lest the effect of her words should have been to turn her young mistress’s brain.