The Mystery of Cloomber Read online

  CHAPTER XIII. IN WHICH I SEE THAT WHICH HAS BEEN SEEN BY FEW

  At dinner that evening I mentioned to my father the episode of the threeBuddhist priests, and found, as I had expected, that he was very muchinterested by my account of them.

  When, however, he heard of the high manner in which Ram Singh had spokenof him, and the distinguished position which he had assigned him amongphilologists, he became so excited that it was all we could do toprevent him from setting off then and there to make his acquaintance.

  Esther and I were relieved and glad when we at last succeeded inabstracting his boots and manoeuvring him to his bedroom, for theexciting events of the last twenty-four hours had been too much for hisweak frame and delicate nerves.

  I was sitting at the open porch in the gloaming, turning over in mymind the unexpected events which had occurred so rapidly--the gale, thewreck, the rescue, and the strange character of the castaways--when mysister came quietly over to me and put her hand in mine.

  "Don't you think, Jack," she said, in her low, sweet voice, "that weare forgetting our friends over at Cloomber? Hasn't all this excitementdriven their fears and their danger out of our heads?"

  "Out of our heads, but never out of our hearts," said I, laughing."However, you are right, little one, for our attention has certainlybeen distracted from them. I shall walk up in the morning and see if Ican see anything of them. By the way, to-morrow is the fateful 5th ofOctober--one more day, and all will be well with us."

  "Or ill," said my sister gloomily.

  "Why, what a little croaker you are, to be sure!" I cried. "What in theworld is coming over you?"

  "I feel nervous and low-spirited," she answered, drawing closer to myside and shivering. "I feel as if some great peril were hanging over theheads of those we love. Why should these strange men wish to stay uponthe coast?"

  "What, the Buddhists?" I said lightly. "Oh, these fellows have continualfeast-days and religious rites of all sorts. They have some very goodreason for staying, you may be sure."

  "Don't you think," said Esther, in an awe-struck whisper, "that it isvery strange that these priests should arrive here all the way fromIndia just at the present moment? Have you not gathered from all youhave heard that the general's fears are in some way connected with Indiaand the Indians?"

  The remark made me thoughtful.

  "Why, now that you mention it," I answered, "I have some vagueimpression that the mystery is connected with some incident whichoccurred in that country. I am sure, however, that your fears wouldvanish if you saw Ram Singh. He is the very personification of wisdomand benevolence. He was shocked at the idea of our killing a sheep, oreven a fish for his benefit--said he would rather die than have a handin taking the life of an animal."

  "It is very foolish of me to be so nervous," said my sister bravely."But you must promise me one thing, Jack. You will go up to Cloomber inthe morning, and if you can see any of them you must tell them of thesestrange neighbours of ours. They are better able to judge than we arewhether their presence has any significance or not."

  "All right, little one," I answered, as we went indoors. "You have beenover-excited by all these wild doings, and you need a sound night's restto compose you. I'll do what you suggest, however, and our friends shalljudge for themselves whether these poor fellows should be sent abouttheir business or not."

  I made the promise to allay my sister's apprehensions, but in the brightsunlight of morning it appeared less than absurd to imagine that ourpoor vegetarian castaways could have any sinister intentions, or thattheir advent could have any effect upon the tenant of Cloomber.

  I was anxious, myself, however, to see whether I could see anything ofthe Heatherstones, so after breakfast I walked up to the Hall. In theirseclusion it was impossible for them to have learnt anything of therecent events. I felt, therefore, that even if I should meet the generalhe could hardly regard me as an intruder while I had so much news tocommunicate.

  The place had the same dreary and melancholy appearance which alwayscharacterised it. Looking through between the thick iron bars of themain gateway there was nothing to be seen of any of the occupants. Oneof the great Scotch firs had been blown down in the gale, and its long,ruddy trunk lay right across the grass-grown avenue; but no attempt hadbeen made to remove it.

  Everything about the property had the same air of desolation andneglect, with the solitary exception of the massive and impenetrablefencing, which presented as unbroken and formidable an obstacle as everto the would-be trespasser.

  I walked round this barrier as far as our old trysting-place withoutfinding any flaw through which I could get a glimpse of the house, forthe fence had been repaired with each rail overlapping the last, soas to secure absolute privacy for those inside, and to block thosepeep-holes which I had formerly used.

  At the old spot, however, where I had had the memorable interview withthe general on the occasion when he surprised me with his daughter, Ifound that the two loose rails had been refixed in such a manner thatthere was a gap of two inches or more between them.

  Through this I had a view of the house and of part of the lawn in frontof it, and, though I could see no signs of life outside or at any of thewindows, I settled down with the intention of sticking to my post untilI had a chance of speaking to one or other of the inmates. Indeed, thecold, dead aspect of the house had struck such a chill into my heartthat I determined to scale the fence at whatever risk of incurringthe general's displeasure rather than return without news of theHeatherstones.

  Happily there was no need of this extreme expedient, for I had not beenthere half-an-hour before I heard the harsh sound of an opening lock,and the general himself emerged from the main door.

  To my surprise he was dressed in a military uniform, and that not theuniform in ordinary use in the British Army. The red coat was strangelycut and stained with the weather. The trousers had originally beenwhite, but had now faded to a dirty yellow. With a red sash across hischest and a straight sword hanging from his side, he stood the livingexample of a bygone type--the John Company's officer of forty years ago.

  He was followed by the ex-tramp, Corporal Rufus Smith, now well-clad andprosperous, who limped along beside his master, the two pacing up anddown the lawn absorbed in conversation. I observed that from time totime one or other of them would pause and glance furtively all aboutthem, as though guarding keenly against a surprise. I should havepreferred communicating with the general alone, but since there was nodissociating him from his companion, I beat loudly on the fencing withmy stick to attract their attention. They both faced round in a moment,and I could see from their gestures that they were disturbed andalarmed.

  I then elevated my stick above the barrier to show them where the soundproceeded from. At this the general began to walk in my direction withthe air of a man who is bracing himself up for an effort, but the othercaught him by the wrist and endeavoured to dissuade him.

  It was only when I shouted out my name and assured them that I was alonethat I could prevail upon them to approach. Once assured of my identitythe general ran eagerly towards me and greeted me with the utmostcordiality.

  "This is truly kind of you, West," he said. "It is only at such timesas these that one can judge who is a friend and who not. It would not befair to you to ask you to come inside or to stay any time, but I am nonethe less very glad to see you."

  "I have been anxious about you all," I said, "for it is some littletime since I have seen or heard from any of you. How have you all beenkeeping?"

  "Why, as well as could be expected. But we will be better tomorrow--wewill be different men to-morrow, eh, Corporal?"

  "Yes, sir," said the corporal, raising his hand to his forehead in amilitary salute. "We'll be right as the bank to-morrow."

  "The corporal and I are a little disturbed in our minds just now," thegeneral explained, "but I have no doubt that all will come right. Afterall, there is nothing higher than Providence, and we are all in Hishands. And how have you been, eh?"


  "We have been very busy for one thing," said I. "I suppose you haveheard nothing of the great shipwreck?"

  "Not a word," the general answered listlessly.

  "I thought the noise of the wind would prevent you hearing the signalguns. She came ashore in the bay the night before last--a great barquefrom India."

  "From India!" ejaculated the general.

  "Yes. Her crew were saved, fortunately, and have all been sent on toGlasgow."

  "All sent on!" cried the general, with a face as bloodless as a corpse.

  "All except three rather strange characters who claim to be Buddhistpriests. They have decided to remain for a few days upon the coast."

  The words were hardly out of my mouth when the general dropped upon hisknees with his long, thin arms extended to Heaven.

  "Thy will be done!" he cried in a cracking voice. "Thy blessed will bedone!"

  I could see through the crack that Corporal Rufus Smith's face hadturned to a sickly yellow shade, and that he was wiping the perspirationfrom his brow.

  "It's like my luck!" he said. "After all these years, to come when Ihave got a snug billet."

  "Never mind, my lad," the general said, rising, and squaring hisshoulders like a man who braces himself up for an effort. "Be it whatit may we'll face it as British soldiers should. D'ye remember atChillianwallah, when you had to run from your guns to our square, andthe Sikh horse came thundering down on our bayonets? We didn't flinchthen, and we won't flinch now. It seems to me that I feel better than Ihave done for years. It was the uncertainty that was killing me."

  "And the infernal jingle-jangle," said the corporal. "Well, we all gotogether--that's some consolation."

  "Good-bye, West," said the general. "Be a good husband to Gabriel,and give my poor wife a home. I don't think she will trouble you long.Good-bye! God bless you!"

  "Look here, General," I said, peremptorily breaking off a piece of woodto make communication more easy, "this sort of thing has been going ontoo long. What are these hints and allusions and innuendoes? It is timewe had a little plain speaking. What is it you fear? Out with it! Areyou in dread of these Hindoos? If you are, I am able, on my father'sauthority, to have them arrested as rogues and vagabonds."

  "No, no, that would never do," he answered, shaking his head. "You willlearn about the wretched business soon enough. Mordaunt knows where tolay his hand upon the papers bearing on the matter. You can consult himabout it to-morrow."

  "But surely," I cried, "if the peril is so imminent something may bedone to avert it. If you would but tell me what you fear I should knowhow to act."

  "My dear friend," he said, "there is nothing to be done, so calmyourself, and let things take their course. It has been folly on my partto shelter myself behind mere barriers of wood and stone. The factis, that inaction was terrible to me, and I felt that to do anything,however futile, in the nature of a precaution, was better than passiveresignation. My humble friend here and I have placed ourselves in aposition in which, I trust, no poor fellow will ever find himselfagain. We can only recommend ourselves to the unfailing goodness of theAlmighty, and trust that what we have endured in this world may lessenour atonement in the world to come. I must leave you now, for I havemany papers to destroy and much to arrange. Good-bye!"

  He pushed his hand through the hole which I had made, and grasped minein a solemn farewell, after which he walked back to the Hall with a firmand decided step, still followed by the crippled and sinister corporal.

  I walked back to Branksome much disturbed by this interview, andextremely puzzled as to what course I should pursue.

  It was evident now that my sister's suspicions were correct, and thatthere was some very intimate connection between the presence of thethree Orientals and the mysterious peril which hung over the towers ofCloomber.

  It was difficult for me to associate the noble-faced Ram Singh's gentle,refined manner and words of wisdom with any deed of violence, yet nowthat I thought of it I could see that a terrible capacity for wrath laybehind his shaggy brows and dark, piercing eyes.

  I felt that of all men whom I had ever met he was the one whosedispleasure I should least care to face. But how could two men sowidely dissociated as the foul-mouthed old corporal of artillery andthe distinguished Anglo-Indian general have each earned the ill-will ofthese strange castaways? And if the danger were a positive physical one,why should he not consent to my proposal to have the three men placedunder custody--though I confess it would have gone much against my grainto act in so inhospitable a manner upon such vague and shadowy grounds.

  These questions were absolutely unanswerable, and yet the solemn wordsand the terrible gravity which I had seen in the faces of both theold soldiers forbade me from thinking that their fears were entirelyunfounded.

  It was all a puzzle--an absolutely insoluble puzzle.

  One thing at least was clear to me--and that was that in the presentstate of my knowledge, and after the general's distinct prohibition,it was impossible for me to interfere in any way. I could only wait andpray that, whatever the danger might be, it might pass over, or at leastthat my dear Gabriel and her brother might be protected against it.

  I was walking down the lane lost in thought, and had got as far as thewicket gate which opens upon the Branksome lawn, when I was surprised tohear my father's voice raised in most animated and excited converse.

  The old man had been of late so abstracted from the daily affairs of theworld, and so absorbed in his own special studies, that it was difficultto engage his attention upon any ordinary, mundane topic. Curious toknow what it was that had drawn him so far out of himself, I openedthe gate softly, and walking quietly round the laurel bushes, found himsitting, to my astonishment, with none other than the very man who wasoccupying my thoughts, Ram Singh, the Buddhist.

  The two were sitting upon a garden bench, and the Oriental appeared tobe laying down some weighty proposition, checking every point upon hislong, quivering, brown fingers, while my father, with his hands thrownabroad and his face awry, was loud in protestation and in argument.

  So absorbed were they in their controversy, that I stood within ahand-touch of them for a minute or more before they became conscious ofmy presence.

  On observing me the priest sprang to his feet and greeted me with thesame lofty courtesy and dignified grace which had so impressed me theday before.

  "I promised myself yesterday," he said, "the pleasure of calling uponyour father. You see I have kept my word. I have even been daring enoughto question his views upon some points in connection with the Sanscritand Hindoo tongues, with the result that we have been arguing foran hour or more without either of us convincing the other. Withoutpretending to as deep a theoretical knowledge as that which has made thename of James Hunter West a household word among Oriental scholars,I happen to have given considerable attention to this one point, andindeed I am in a position to say that I know his views to be unsound.I assure you, sir, that up to the year 700, or even later, Sanscrit wasthe ordinary language of the great bulk of the inhabitants of India."

  "And I assure you, sir," said my father warmly, "that it was dead andforgotten at that date, save by the learned, who used it as a vehiclefor scientific and religious works--just as Latin was used in the MiddleAges long after it had ceased to be spoken by any European nation."

  "If you consult the puranas you will find," said Ram Singh, "that thistheory, though commonly received, is entirely untenable."

  "And if you will consult the Ramayana, and more particularly thecanonical books on Buddhist discipline," cried my father, "you will findthat the theory is unassailable."

  "But look at the Kullavagga," said our visitor earnestly.

  "And look at King Asoka," shouted my father triumphantly. "When, in theyear 300 before the Christian era--before, mind you--he ordered the lawsof Buddha to be engraved upon the rocks, what language did he employ,eh? Was it Sanscrit?--no! And why was it not Sanscrit? Because the lowerorders of his subjects would not have been a
ble to understand a wordof it. Ha, ha! That was the reason. How are you going to get round KingAsoka's edicts, eh?"

  "He carved them in the various dialects," Ram Singh answered. "Butenergy is too precious a thing to be wasted in mere wind in this style.The sun has passed its meridian, and I must return to my companions."

  "I am sorry that you have not brought them to see us," said my fathercourteously. He was, I could see, uneasy lest in the eagerness of debatehe had overstepped the bounds of hospitality.

  "They do not mix with the world," Ram Singh answered, rising tohis feet. "They are of a higher grade than I, and more sensitive tocontaminating influences. They are immersed in a six months' meditationupon the mystery of the third incarnation, which has lasted with fewintermissions from the time that we left the Himalayas. I shall not seeyou again, Mr. Hunter West, and I therefore bid you farewell. Your oldage will be a happy one, as it deserves to be, and your Eastern studieswill have a lasting effect upon the knowledge and literature of your owncountry. Farewell!"

  "And am I also to see no more of you?" I asked.

  "Unless you will walk with me along the sea-shore," he answered. "Butyou have already been out this morning, and may be tired. I ask too muchof you."

  "Nay, I should be delighted to come," I responded from my heart, and weset off together, accompanied for some little distance by my father, whowould gladly, I could see, have reopened the Sanscrit controversy, hadnot his stock of breath been too limited to allow of his talking andwalking at the same time.

  "He is a learned man," Ram Singh remarked, after we had left him behind,"but, like many another, he is intolerant towards opinions which differfrom his own. He will know better some day."

  I made no answer to this observation, and we trudged along for a time insilence, keeping well down to the water's edge, where the sands affordeda good foothold.

  The sand dunes which lined the coast formed a continuous ridge upon ourleft, cutting us off entirely from all human observation, while on theright the broad Channel stretched away with hardly a sail to break itssilvery uniformity. The Buddhist priest and I were absolutely alone withNature.

  I could not help reflecting that if he were really the dangerous manthat the mate affected to consider him, or that might be inferred fromthe words of General Heatherstone, I had placed myself completely in hispower.

  Yet such was the majestic benignity of the man's aspect, and theunruffled serenity of his deep, dark eyes, that I could afford in hispresence to let fear and suspicion blow past me as lightly as the breezewhich whistled round us. His face might be stern, and even terrible, butI felt that he could never be unjust.

  As I glanced from time to time at his noble profile and the sweep of hisjet-black beard, his rough-spun tweed travelling suit struck me withan almost painful sense of incongruity, and I re-clothed him in myimagination with the grand, sweeping Oriental costume which is thefitting and proper frame for such a picture--the only garb which doesnot detract from the dignity and grace of the wearer.

  The place to which he led me was a small fisher cottage which had beendeserted some years before by its tenant, but still stood gaunt andbare, with the thatch partly blown away and the windows and doors insad disrepair. This dwelling, which the poorest Scotch beggar would haveshrunk from, was the one which these singular men had preferred to theproffered hospitality of the laird's house. A small garden, now a massof tangled brambles, stood round it, and through this my acquaintancepicked his way to the ruined door. He glanced into the house and thenwaved his hand for me to follow him.

  "You have now an opportunity," he said, in a subdued, reverential voice,"of seeing a spectacle which few Europeans have had the privilege ofbeholding. Inside that cottage you will find two Yogis--men who are onlyone remove from the highest plane of adeptship. They are both wrappedin an ecstatic trance, otherwise I should not venture to obtrude yourpresence upon them. Their astral bodies have departed from them, to bepresent at the feast of lamps in the holy Lamasery of Rudok in Tibet.Tread lightly lest by stimulating their corporeal functions you recallthem before their devotions are completed."

  Walking slowly and on tiptoe, I picked my way through the weed-growngarden, and peered through the open doorway.

  There was no furniture in the dreary interior, nor anything to cover theuneven floor save a litter of fresh straw in a corner.

  Among this straw two men were crouching, the one small and wizened, theother large-boned and gaunt, with their legs crossed in Oriental fashionand their heads sunk upon their breasts. Neither of them looked up, ortook the smallest notice of our presence.

  They were so still and silent that they might have been two bronzestatues but for the slow and measured rhythm of their breathing. Theirfaces, however, had a peculiar, ashen-grey colour, very different fromthe healthy brown of my companion's, and I observed, on stooping myhead, that only the whites of their eyes were visible, the balls beingturned upwards beneath the lids.

  In front of them upon a small mat lay an earthenware pitcher of waterand half-a-loaf of bread, together with a sheet of paper inscribed withcertain cabalistic characters. Ram Singh glanced at these, and then,motioning to me to withdraw, followed me out into the garden.

  "I am not to disturb them until ten o'clock," he said. "You have nowseen in operation one of the grandest results of our occult philosophy,the dissociation of spirit from body. Not only are the spirits of theseholy men standing at the present moment by the banks of the Ganges, butthose spirits are clothed in a material covering so identical with theirreal bodies that none of the faithful will ever doubt that Lal Hoomi andMowdar Khan are actually among them. This is accomplished by our powerof resolving an object into its chemical atoms, of conveying theseatoms with a speed which exceeds that of lightning to any given spot,and of there re-precipitating them and compelling them to retake theiroriginal form. Of old, in the days of our ignorance, it was necessary toconvey the whole body in this way, but we have since found that it wasas easy and more convenient to transmit material enough merely to buildup an outside shell or semblance. This we have termed the astral body."

  "But if you can transmit your spirits so readily," I observed, "whyshould they be accompanied by any body at all?"

  "In communicating with brother initiates we are able to employ ourspirits only, but when we wish to come in contact with ordinary mankindit is essential that we should appear in some form which they can seeand comprehend."

  "You have interested me deeply in all that you have told me," I said,grasping the hand which Ram Singh had held out to me as a sign thatour interview was at an end. "I shall often think of our shortacquaintance."

  "You will derive much benefit from it," he said slowly, still holding myhand and looking gravely and sadly into my eyes. "You must remember thatwhat will happen in the future is not necessarily bad because it doesnot fall in with your preconceived ideas of right. Be not hasty in yourjudgments. There are certain great rules which must be carried out, atwhatever cost to individuals. Their operation may appear to you to beharsh and cruel, but that is as nothing compared with the dangerousprecedent which would be established by not enforcing them. The ox andthe sheep are safe from us, but the man with the blood of the highestupon his hands should not and shall not live."

  He threw up his arms at the last words with a fierce, threateninggesture, and, turning away from me, strode back to the ruined hut.

  I stood gazing after him until he disappeared through the doorway, andthen started off for home, revolving in my mind all that I had heard,and more particularly this last outburst of the occult philosopher.

  Far on the right I could see the tall, white tower of Cloomber standingout clear-cut and sharp against a dark cloud-bank which rose behind it.I thought how any traveller who chanced to pass that way would envy inhis heart the tenant of that magnificent building, and how littlethey would guess the strange terrors, the nameless dangers, which weregathering about his head. The black cloud-wrack was but the image, Ireflected, of the darker, more
sombre storm which was about to burst.

  "Whatever it all means, and however it happens," I ejaculated, "Godgrant that the innocent be not confounded with the guilty."

  My father, when I reached home, was still in a ferment over his learneddisputation with the stranger.

  "I trust, Jack," he said, "that I did not handle him too roughly. Ishould remember that I am _in loco magistri_, and be less prone to arguewith my guests. Yet, when he took up this most untenable position, Icould not refrain from attacking him and hurling him out of it, whichindeed I did, though you, who are ignorant of the niceties of thequestion, may have failed to perceive it. You observed, however, that myreference to King Asoka's edicts was so conclusive that he at once roseand took his leave."

  "You held your own bravely," I answered, "but what is your impression ofthe man now that you have seen him?"

  "Why," said my father, "he is one of those holy men who, under thevarious names of Sannasis, Yogis, Sevras, Qualanders, Hakims, and Cufishave devoted their lives to the study of the mysteries of the Buddhistfaith. He is, I take it, a theosophist, or worshipper of the God ofknowledge, the highest grade of which is the adept. This man and hiscompanions have not attained this high position or they could not havecrossed the sea without contamination. It is probable that they are alladvanced chelas who hope in time to attain to the supreme honour ofadeptship."

  "But, father," interrupted my sister, "this does not explain why men ofsuch sanctity and attainments should choose to take up their quarters onthe shores of a desolate Scotch bay."

  "Ah, there you get beyond me," my father answered. "I may suggest,however, that it is nobody's business but their own, so long as theykeep the peace and are amenable to the law of the land."

  "Have you ever heard," I asked, "that these higher priests of whom youspeak have powers which are unknown to us?"

  "Why, Eastern literature is full of it. The Bible is an Eastern book,and is it not full of the record of such powers from cover to cover?It is unquestionable that they have in the past known many of Nature'ssecrets which are lost to us. I cannot say, however, from my ownknowledge that the modern theosophists really possess the powers thatthey claim."

  "Are they a vindictive class of people?" I asked. "Is there any offenceamong them which can only be expiated by death?"

  "Not that I know of," my father answered, raising his white eyebrowsin surprise. "You appear to be in an inquisitive humour thisafternoon--what is the object of all these questions? Have our Easternneighbours aroused your curiosity or suspicion in any way?"

  I parried the question as best I might, for I was unwilling to let theold man know what was in my mind. No good purpose could come from hisenlightenment; his age and his health demanded rest rather than anxiety;and indeed, with the best will in the world I should have found itdifficult to explain to another what was so very obscure to myself. Forevery reason I felt that it was best that he should be kept in the dark.

  Never in all my experience had I known a day pass so slowly as did thateventful 5th of October. In every possible manner I endeavoured to whileaway the tedious hours, and yet it seemed as if darkness would neverarrive.

  I tried to read, I tried to write, I paced about the lawn, I walked tothe end of the lane, I put new flies upon my fishing-hooks, I began toindex my father's library--in a dozen ways I endeavoured to relieve thesuspense which was becoming intolerable. My sister, I could see, wassuffering from the same feverish restlessness.

  Again and again our good father remonstrated with us in his mild way forour erratic behaviour and the continual interruption of his work whicharose from it.

  At last, however, the tea was brought, and the tea was taken, thecurtains were drawn, the lamps lit, and after another interminableinterval the prayers were read and the servants dismissed to theirrooms. My father compounded and swallowed his nightly jorum of toddy,and then shuffled off to his room, leaving the two of us in the parlourwith our nerves in a tingle and our minds full of the most vague and yetterrible apprehensions.