The Mystery of Cloomber Page 14

  CHAPTER XIV. OF THE VISITOR WHO RAN DOWN THE ROAD IN THE NIGHT-TIME

  It was a quarter past ten o'clock by the parlour timepiece when myfather went off to his room, and left Esther and myself together. Weheard his slow steps dying away up the creaking staircase, until thedistant slamming of a door announced that he had reached his sanctum.

  The simple oil lamp upon the table threw a weird, uncertain light overthe old room, flickering upon the carved oak panelling, and castingstrange, fantastic shadows from the high-elbowed, straight-backedfurniture. My sister's white, anxious face stood out in the obscuritywith a startling exactness of profile like one of Rembrandt's portraits.

  We sat opposite to each other on either side of the table with no soundbreaking the silence save the measured ticking of the clock and theintermittent chirping of a cricket beneath the grate.

  There was something awe-inspiring in the absolute stillness. Thewhistling of a belated peasant upon the high road was a relief to us,and we strained our ears to catch the last of his notes as he ploddedsteadily homewards.

  At first we had made some pretence--she of knitting and I ofreading--but we soon abandoned the useless deception, and sat uneasilywaiting, starting and glancing at each other with questioning eyeswhenever the faggot crackled in the fire or a rat scampered behind thewainscot. There was a heavy electrical feeling in the air, which weighedus down with a foreboding of disaster.

  I rose and flung the hall door open to admit the fresh breeze of thenight. Ragged clouds swept across the sky, and the moon peeped out attimes between their hurrying fringes, bathing the whole countryside inits cold, white radiance. From where I stood in the doorway I could seethe edge of the Cloomber wood, though the house itself was onlyvisible from the rising ground some little distance off. At my sister'ssuggestion we walked together, she with her shawl over her head, as faras the summit of this elevation, and looked out in the direction of theHall.

  There was no illumination of the windows tonight. From roof to basementnot a light twinkled in any part of the great building. Its huge massloomed up dark and sullen amid the trees which surrounded it, lookingmore like some giant sarcophagus than a human habitation.

  To our overwrought nerves there was something of terror in its mere bulkand its silence. We stood for some little time peering at it through thedarkness, and then we made our way back to the parlour again, wherewe sat waiting--waiting, we knew not for what, and yet with absoluteconviction that some terrible experience was in store for us.

  It was twelve o'clock or thereabout when my sister suddenly sprang toher feet and held up her fingers to bespeak attention.

  "Do you hear nothing?" she asked.

  I strained my ears, but without success.

  "Come to the door," she cried, with a trembling voice. "Now can you hearanything?"

  In the deep silence of the night I distinctly heard a dull, murmuring,clattering sound, continuous apparently, but very faint and low.

  "What is it?" I asked, in a subdued voice.

  "It's the sound of a man running towards us," she answered, and then,suddenly dropping the last semblance of self-command, she fell uponher knees beside the table and began praying aloud with that frenziedearnestness which intense, overpowering fear can produce, breaking offnow and again into half-hysterical whimperings.

  I could distinguish the sound clearly enough now to know that her quick,feminine perception had not deceived her, and that it was indeed causedby a running man.

  On he came, and on down the high road, his footfalls ringing out clearerand sharper every moment. An urgent messenger he must be, for he neitherpaused nor slackened his pace.

  The quick, crisp rattle was changed suddenly to a dull, muffled murmur.He had reached the point where sand had been recently laid down fora hundred yards or so. In a few moments, however, he was back on hardground again and his flying feet came nearer and ever nearer.

  He must, I reflected, be abreast of the head of the lane now. Would hehold on? Or would he turn down to Branksome?

  The thought had hardly crossed my mind when I heard by the difference ofthe sound that the runner had turned the corner, and that his goal wasbeyond all question the laird's house.

  Rushing down to the gate of the lawn, I reached it just as our visitordashed it open and fell into my arms. I could see in the moonlight thatit was none other than Mordaunt Heatherstone.

  "What has happened?" I cried. "What is amiss, Mordaunt?"

  "My father!" he gasped--"my father!"

  His hat was gone, his eyes dilated with terror, and his face asbloodless as that of a corpse. I could feel that the hands which claspedmy arms were quivering and shaking with emotion.

  "You are exhausted," I said, leading him into the parlour. "Giveyourself a moment's rest before you speak to us. Be calm, man, you arewith your best friends."

  I laid him on the old horsehair sofa, while Esther, whose fears had allflown to the winds now that something practical was to be done, dashedsome brandy into a tumbler and brought it to him. The stimulant had amarvellous effect upon him, for the colour began to come back into hispale cheeks and the light of recognition in his eyes.

  He sat up and took Esther's hand in both of his, like a man who iswaking out of some bad dream and wishes to assure himself that he isreally in safety.

  "Your father?" I asked. "What of him?"

  "He is gone."

  "Gone!"

  "Yes; he is gone; and so is Corporal Rufus Smith. We shall never seteyes upon them again."

  "But where have they gone?" I cried. "This is unworthy of you, Mordaunt.What right have we to sit here, allowing our private feelings toovercome us, while there is a possibility of succouring your father? Up,man! Let us follow him. Tell me only what direction he took."

  "It's no use," young Heatherstone answered, burying his face inhis hands. "Don't reproach me, West, for you don't know all thecircumstances. What can we do to reverse the tremendous and unknown lawswhich are acting against us? The blow has long been hanging over us, andnow it has fallen. God help us!"

  "In Heaven's name tell me what has happened?" said I excitedly. "We mustnot yield to despair."

  "We can do nothing until daybreak," he answered. "We shall thenendeavour to obtain some trace of them. It is hopeless at present."

  "And how about Gabriel and Mrs. Heatherstone?" I asked. "Can wenot bring them down from the Hall at once? Your poor sister must bedistracted with terror."

  "She knows nothing of it," Mordaunt answered. "She sleeps at the otherside of the house, and has not heard or seen anything. As to my poormother, she has expected some such event for so long a time that it hasnot come upon her as a surprise. She is, of course, overwhelmed withgrief, but would, I think, prefer to be left to herself for thepresent. Her firmness and composure should be a lesson to me, but I amconstitutionally excitable, and this catastrophe coming after our longperiod of suspense deprived me of my very reason for a time."

  "If we can do nothing until the morning," I said, "you have time to tellus all that has occurred."

  "I will do so," he answered, rising and holding his shaking hands to thefire. "You know already that we have had reason for some time--for manyyears in fact--to fear that a terrible retribution was hanging over myfather's head for a certain action of his early life. In this action hewas associated with the man known as Corporal Rufus Smith, so that thefact of the latter finding his way to my father was a warning to us thatthe time had come, and that this 5th of October--the anniversary of themisdeed--would be the day of its atonement. I told you of our fearsin my letter, and, if I am not mistaken, my father also had someconversation with you, John, upon the subject. When I saw yesterdaymorning that he had hunted out the old uniform which he had alwaysretained since he wore it in the Afghan war, I was sure that the end wasat hand, and that our forebodings would be realised.

  "He appeared to be more composed in the afternoon than I have seen himfor years, and spoke freely of his life in India and of the incidents ofhis yout
h. About nine o'clock he requested us to go up to our own rooms,and locked us in there--a precaution which he frequently took when thedark fit was upon him. It was always his endeavour, poor soul, to keepus clear of the curse which had fallen upon his own unfortunate head.Before parting from us he tenderly embraced my mother and Gabriel,and he afterwards followed me to my room, where he clasped my handaffectionately and gave into my charge a small packet addressed toyourself."

  "To me?" I interrupted.

  "To you. I shall fulfill my commission when I have told you my story. Iconjured him to allow me to sit up with him and share any danger whichmight arise, but he implored me with irresistible earnestness not to addto his troubles by thwarting his arrangements. Seeing that I was reallydistressing him by my pertinacity, I at last allowed him to close thedoor and to turn the key upon the outside. I shall always reproachmyself for my want of firmness. But what can you do when your own fatherrefuses your assistance or co-operation? You cannot force yourself uponhim."

  "I am sure that you did all you could do," my sister said.

  "I meant to, dear Esther, but, God help me, it was hard to tell whatwas right. He left me, and I heard his footsteps die away down the longcorridor. It was then about ten o'clock, or a little after. For a timeI paced up and down the room, and then, carrying the lamp to the head ofmy bed, I lay down without undressing, reading St. Thomas a Kempis, andpraying from my heart that the night might pass safely over us.

  "I had at last fallen into a troubled sleep when I was suddenly arousedby a loud, sonorous sound ringing in my ears. I sat up bewildered, butall was silent again. The lamp was burning low, and my watch showedme that it was going on to midnight. I blundered to my feet, and wasstriking a match with the intention of lighting the candles, when thesharp, vehement cry broke out again so loud and so clear that it mighthave been in the very room with me. My chamber is in the front of thehouse, while those of my mother and sister are at the back, so that I amthe only one who commands a view of the avenue.

  "Rushing to the window I drew the blind aside and looked out. You knowthat the gravel-drive opens up so as to form a broad stretch immediatelyin front of the house. Just in the centre of this clear space therestood three men looking up at the house.

  "The moon shone full upon them, glistening on their upturned eyeballs,and by its light I could see that they were swarthy-faced andblack-haired, of a type that I was familiar with among the Sikhs andAfridis. Two of them were thin, with eager, aesthetic countenances,while the third was kinglike and majestic, with a noble figure andflowing beard."

  "Ram Singh!" I ejaculated.

  "What, you know of them?" exclaimed Mordaunt in great surprise. "Youhave met them?"

  "I know of them. They are Buddhist priests," I answered, "but go on."

  "They stood in a line," he continued, "sweeping their arms upwardsand downwards, while their lips moved as if repeating some prayer orincantation. Suddenly they ceased to gesticulate, and broke out for thethird time into the wild, weird, piercing cry which had roused me frommy slumber. Never shall I forget that shrill, dreadful summons swellingand reverberating through the silent night with an intensity of soundwhich is still ringing in my ears.

  "As it died slowly away, there was a rasping and creaking as of keysand bolts, followed by the clang of an opening door and the clatter ofhurrying feet. From my window I saw my father and Corporal Rufus Smithrush frantically out of the house hatless and unkempt, like men who areobeying a sudden and overpowering impulse. The three strangers laidno hands on them, but all five swept swiftly away down the avenue andvanished among the trees. I am positive that no force was used, orconstraint of any visible kind, and yet I am as sure that my poor fatherand his companion were helpless prisoners as if I had seen them draggedaway in manacles.

  "All this took little time in the acting. From the first summons whichdisturbed my sleep to the last shadowy glimpse which I had of thembetween the tree trunks could hardly have occupied more than fiveminutes of actual time. So sudden was it, and so strange, that when thedrama was over and they were gone I could have believed that it wasall some terrible nightmare, some delusion, had I not felt that theimpression was too real, too vivid, to be imputed to fancy.

  "I threw my whole weight against my bedroom door in the hope of forcingthe lock. It stood firm for a while, but I flung myself upon it againand again, until something snapped and I found myself in the passage.

  "My first thought was for my mother. I rushed to her room and turnedthe key in her door. The moment that I did so she stepped out into thecorridor in her dressing-gown, and held up a warning finger.

  "'No noise, she said, Gabriel is asleep. They have been called away?'

  "'They have,' I answered.

  "'God's will be done!' she cried. 'Your poor father will be happier inthe next world than he has ever been in this. Thank Heaven that Gabrielis asleep. I gave her chloral in her cocoa.'

  "'What am I to do?' I said distractedly.

  "'Where have they gone? How can I help him? We cannot let him go fromus like this, or leave these men to do what they will with him. Shall Iride into Wigtown and arouse the police?'

  "'Anything rather than that,' my mother said earnestly. 'He has beggedme again and again to avoid it. My son, we shall never set eyes uponyour father again. You may marvel at my dry eyes, but if you knew asI know the peace which death would bring him, you could not find it inyour heart to mourn for him. All pursuit is, I feel, vain, and yet somepursuit there must be. Let it be as private as possible. We cannot servehim better than by consulting his wishes.'

  "'But every minute is precious,' I cried. 'Even now he may be callingupon us to rescue him from the clutches of those dark-skinned fiends.'

  "The thought so maddened me that I rushed out of the house and down tothe high road, but once there I had no indication in which direction toturn. The whole wide moor lay before me, without a sign of movementupon its broad expanse. I listened, but not a sound broke the perfectstillness of the night.

  "It was then, my dear friends, as I stood, not knowing in whichdirection to turn, that the horror and responsibility broke full uponme. I felt that I was combating against forces of which I knew nothing.All was strange and dark and terrible.

  "The thought of you, and of the help which I might look for from youradvice and assistance, was a beacon of hope to me. At Branksome, atleast, I should receive sympathy, and, above all, directions as to whatI should do, for my mind is in such a whirl that I cannot trust my ownjudgment. My mother was content to be alone, my sister asleep, andno prospect of being able to do anything until daybreak. Under thosecircumstances what more natural than that I should fly to you as fast asmy feet would carry me? You have a clear head, Jack; speak out, man, andtell me what I should do. Esther, what should I do?"

  He turned from one to the other of us with outstretched hands and eager,questioning eyes.

  "You can do nothing while the darkness lasts," I answered. "We mustreport the matter to the Wigtown police, but we need not send ourmessage to them until we are actually starting upon the search, so as tocomply with the law and yet have a private investigation, as your motherwishes. John Fullarton, over the hill, has a lurcher dog which is asgood as a bloodhound. If we set him on the general's trail he will runhim down if he had to follow him to John o' Groat's."

  "It is terrible to wait calmly here while he may need our assistance."

  "I fear our assistance could under any circumstances do him littlegood. There are forces at work here which are beyond human intervention.Besides, there is no alternative. We have, apparently, no possibleclue as to the direction which they have taken, and for us to wanderaimlessly over the moor in the darkness would be to waste the strengthwhich may be more profitably used in the morning. It will be daylightby five o'clock. In an hour or so we can walk over the hill together andget Fullarton's dog."

  "Another hour!" Mordaunt groaned, "every minute seems an age."

  "Lie down on the sofa and rest yourself," said I. "You ca
nnot serve yourfather better than by laying up all the strength you can, for we mayhave a weary trudge before us. But you mentioned a packet which thegeneral had intended for me."

  "It is here," he answered, drawing a small, flat parcel from his pocketand handing it over to me, "you will find, no doubt, that it willexplain all which has been so mysterious."

  The packet was sealed at each end with black wax, bearing the impressof the flying griffin, which I knew to be the general's crest. Itwas further secured by a band of broad tape, which I cut with mypocket-knife. Across the outside was written in bold handwriting: "J.Fothergill West, Esq.," and underneath: "To be handed to that gentlemanin the event of the disappearance or decease of Major-General J. B.Heatherstone, V.C., C.B., late of the Indian Army."

  So at last I was to know the dark secret which had cast a shadow overour lives. Here in my hands I held the solution of it.

  With eager fingers I broke the seals and undid the wrapper. A note and asmall bundle of discoloured paper lay within. I drew the lamp over to meand opened the former. It was dated the preceding afternoon, and ran inthis way:

  MY DEAR WEST,--

  I should have satisfied your very natural curiosity on the subject whichwe have had occasion to talk of more than once, but I refrained for yourown sake. I knew by sad experience how unsettling and unnerving it isto be for ever waiting for a catastrophe which you are convinced mustbefall, and which you can neither avert nor accelerate.

  Though it affects me specially, as being the person most concerned, I amstill conscious that the natural sympathy which I have observed in you,and your regard for Gabriel's father, would both combine to render youunhappy if you knew the hopelessness and yet the vagueness of the fatewhich threatens me. I feared to disturb your mind, and I was thereforesilent, though at some cost to myself, for my isolation has not been theleast of the troubles which have weighed me down.

  Many signs, however, and chief among them the presence of the Buddhistsupon the coast as described by you this morning, have convinced me thatthe weary waiting is at last over and that the hour of retribution is athand. Why I should have been allowed to live nearly forty years after myoffence is more than I can understand, but it is possible that those whohad command over my fate know that such a life is the greatest of allpenalties to me.

  Never for an hour, night or day, have they suffered me to forget thatthey have marked me down as their victim. Their accursed astral bell hasbeen ringing my knell for two-score years, reminding me ever that thereis no spot upon earth where I can hope to be in safety. Oh, the peace,the blessed peace of dissolution! Come what may on the other side of thetomb, I shall at least be quit of that thrice terrible sound.

  There is no need for me to enter into the wretched business again, orto detail at any length the events of October 5th, 1841, and the variouscircumstances which led up to the death of Ghoolab Shah, the arch adept.

  I have torn a sheaf of leaves from my old journal, in which you willfind a bald account of the matter, and an independent narrative wasfurnished by Sir Edward Elliott, of the Artillery, to the Star of Indiasome years ago--in which, however, the names were suppressed.

  I have reason to believe that many people, even among those who knewIndia well, thought that Sir Edward was romancing, and that he hadevolved his incidents from his imagination. The few faded sheets whichI send you will show you that this is not the case, and that our men ofscience must recognise powers and laws which can and have been used byman, but which are unknown to European civilisation.

  I do not wish to whine or to whimper, but I cannot help feeling that Ihave had hard measure dealt me in this world. I would not, God knows,take the life of any man, far less an aged one, in cold blood. My temperand nature, however, were always fiery and headstrong, and in actionwhen my blood is up, I have no knowledge of what I am about. Neitherthe corporal nor I would have laid a finger upon Ghoolab Shah had we notseen that the tribesmen were rallying behind him. Well, well, it is anold story now, and there is no profit in discussing it. May no otherpoor fellow ever have the same evil fortune!

  I have written a short supplement to the statements contained in myjournal for your information and that of any one else who may chance tobe interested in the matter.

  And now, adieu! Be a good husband to Gabriel, and, if your sister bebrave enough to marry into such a devil-ridden family as ours, by allmeans let her do so. I have left enough to keep my poor wife in comfort.

  When she rejoins me I should wish it to be equally divided between thechildren. If you hear that I am gone, do not pity, but congratulate

  Your unfortunate friend,

  JOHN BERTHIER HEATHERSTONE.

  I threw aside the letter and picked up the roll of blue foolscap whichcontained the solution of the mystery. It was all ragged and frayed atthe inner edge, with traces of gum and thread still adhering to it, toshow that it had been torn out of a strongly bound volume. The ink withwhich it had been written was faded somewhat, but across the head of thefirst page was inscribed in bold, clear characters, evidently of laterdate than the rest: "Journal of Lieutenant J. B. Heatherstone in theThull Valley during the autumn of 1841," and then underneath:

  This extract contains some account of the events of the first week ofOctober of that year, including the skirmish of the Terada ravine andthe death of the man Ghoolab Shah.

  I have the narrative lying before me now, and I copy it verbatim. If itcontains some matter which has no direct bearing upon the questionat issue, I can only say that I thought it better to publish what isirrelevant than by cutting and clipping to lay the whole statement opento the charge of having been tampered with.