Chapter Thirty Four.Mr Blank’s Theory.Mr Hampton was seated in his dingy office in Lincoln’s Inn one morning, when the clerk announced Doctor Lawrence and another gentleman, who were shown in, the old lawyer frowning as he found who the other gentleman was.“You, sir?” he said rather shortly.“Yes, my dear executor,” said the young man laughing. “I am sorry to be such a nuisance to you, but I am growing impatient.”“Very well, sir; very well; and so am I; and as you have called this morning, let me tell you that you have rewarded my friendly disposition towards you by taking a mean advantage and going down to The Mynns, again and again, like a spy upon the camp.”“Gently, my dear sir, gently. I confess to going down to The Mynns partly by design, but it was by accident I met Miss Bellwood.”“Accident?” exclaimed the old lawyer.“Yes, sir, accident; and even if it had not been, please have a little mercy. Put yourself in my place. I came over here eager to succeed to my estate, and to see the lady I was to marry. I saw her and I need not say was charmed with my grandfather’s choice. There, I say it openly, I love her as the sweetest, most innocent girl I ever met; but instead of all going well, I am greeted as an impostor, and told that the young lady betrothed to me is engaged to another gentleman, myalter ego.”“Yes, yes, yes; we know all that, sir,ad nauseum,” cried the old lawyer.“Humph! quotation for quotation,” muttered Doctor Lawrence.“You must wait, sir. You must wait.”“My dear Hampton,” said the doctor, “don’t you think that we might sympathise a little more with our young friend?”“I do not acknowledge that this gentleman is our friend,” said the lawyer sternly.“No, sir; and it does not seem to me that you are in any hurry to acknowledge me,” said the young man laughing.“Indeed, sir,” said the lawyer tartly. “I can only repeat my words—you must wait.”“Can’t wait any longer, sir. You could not if you were in my case.”“I only ask you to wait till Mr George—”“Till this man comes back,” interposed the other. “He will not come back.”“What authority have you for saying that?”“Never mind, sir. I have been having a chat with Doctor Lawrence this morning, and he agrees with me.”“I am not going to allow myself to be influenced by what you and Doctor Lawrence have agreed to,” said the lawyer sharply.“Don’t be angry with me, old chap.”“But you make me angry, sir. Once more, you must wait.”“I cannot afford to.”“Then I shall consult with Doctor Lawrence and take steps which will be very unpleasant for all parties, especially for you, sir, if your story is not genuine.”“You mean call in police aid?”“I do, sir.”“Detectives,” said the young man thoughtfully. “Well, they would, or should, run this man down, and put an end to the uncertainty. But it would be terribly unpleasant for Gertrude.”“You mean Miss Bellwood, sir.”“No, I do not. I mean for Gertrude Bellwood, my affianced wife. No; I don’t like the detective proposition, with its publicity.”“Indeed!” said the lawyer, looking at him searchingly.“Not on my own account, old gentleman. I am not at all afraid of being imprisoned as a rogue and a vagabond for making impudent pretensions; but you know how unpleasant police interference would be, and the matter getting into the papers.”“Quite right,” said the doctor.“I know all that, sir,” replied the lawyer; “and therefore I advocated waiting.”“And I tell you I must act. Look here, sir, I’m in a very awkward predicament. I have had back this morning a refusal from San Francisco to honour a draft. The way in which this man has forestalled me makes me seem to my agents an impostor.”“Hum!”“A hum?” said the young man laughing. “Well, call it so if you like.”“I never make jokes, sir. That was an ejaculation.”“Good. Then here is what I propose. I will be my own detective, and see if I cannot run this man down. I want to stand face to face with him.”“That is quite right,” said the doctor, who was fidgeting about like one who feels himself out of the conversation.“And to do this I want a sufficient sum of money placed in my hands for current expenses.”“I could not for a moment tolerate such a proposal, sir,” said the lawyer shortly.“I will place the necessary funds in your hands,” said the doctor.“Thank you. And if I turn out to be a swindler?”“Well,” said the doctor, shrugging his shoulders, “I shall lose.”“No, you shall not, sir,” cried the young man warmly, as he held out his hand. “You know that I am no cheat, Doctor Lawrence.”“Well, if you are,” said the cheery old doctor, wringing the proffered hand, “you are the cleverest one I ever met. Now, tell Mr Hampton what you mean to do.”“One moment,” said the lawyer quickly. “Look here. I have been speaking so far as James Harrington’s executor. Not one penny will I consent to advance out of the estate; but if you will allow me, Mr Blank—”“Mr George Harrington, sir.”“Mr Blank,” persisted the lawyer.“George Harrington, sir.”“When you have proved yourself to be he. You are to me now Mr Blank; and I say that I shall not allow my old friend Lawrence to bear this expense alone. As a lawyer and executor I will not stir a step, but as a friend, who has some slight belief in your story, I shall share with him.”The young man laughed.“You’re a rum old fellow, Mr Hampton, and some of these days we three will have some hearty laughs across the walnuts and the wine over all this worry.”“Yes, that we will,” said Doctor Lawrence. “Over a glass of port.”“You see, gentlemen, I must get to work; for I find that, besides the pseudo George Harrington, I have another enemy to fight.”“Another?”“Yes, gentlemen. Mr Saul Harrington—the next heir.”“I do not quite understand you,” said the lawyer.“I am sorry to say I do,” said the doctor. “Saul Harrington is next heir, and there can be no doubt about his being strongly attached to our young friend Gertrude.”“Even if this be so,” said the lawyer, “it does not strengthen your case, Mr Blank.”“Well, for the present, agreed then,” said the young man smiling. “Mr Blank be it so. But it does strengthen my case. Now, gentlemen, I am going to be my own detective and I am fighting for a large stake.”“Yes, it is a big estate,” said the lawyer drily.“Hang the estate, sir. I was happy enough as a man without it, and I could be again. But I am fighting for my honour; and there is a greater stake still,” he added with his eyes flashing, as he recalled his last interview with Gertrude.“Well, sir, what do you propose doing?”“I am in the enemy’s camp, sir. Why should I reveal my plans?”“No, you are not in the enemy’s camp, sir,” said the old lawyer sharply. “You are with those friends who are going to find you in the sinews of war to carry on your campaign.”“True. Well, then, I’ll speak out: I am going to run down this man who called himself George Harrington. We must meet.”“Good.”“He has disappeared for one of two reasons.”“Yes, sir; go on.”“He is an impostor.”“Not proven,” said the doctor.“Not yet. But his actions show it. He has disappeared with all the money he could get together, because, by some means, he heard that I was alive.”“Yes, that seems probable,” said the doctor, as Mr Hampton turned the table into a piano and played upon it dumb tunes.“Probable, but only my first idea, and I don’t think it is the true solution.”“Why?”“Because I don’t believe he could have had a suspicion that I was alive.”“Then why did he go away?” said the lawyer sharply.“That we must find out through Saul Harrington.”“Mr Saul Harrington is seriously ill,” said Doctor Lawrence. “I saw him this morning at his request.”“What’s the matter?”“The injury to his arm. It seems he had a nasty fall upon one of the ice slopes in Switzerland, and the doctors there treated it wrongly. It’s a nasty case, and is giving me a deal of anxiety.”“He’ll get well soon enough,” said the lawyer roughly. “Go on, Mr Blank. Let’s have the rest of your theory.”“My theory is, sir, that during one or other of the drinking bouts they had together the pseudo George Harrington let his tongue run rather fast, and Saul Harrington was too clever for him; he nailed him at once.”“He would have denounced him.”“He either would had I not come forward, or he has some reason for keeping it back.”“Not plausible, Mr Blank,” said the lawyer shortly. “You are spoiling your own case.”“Perhaps so, sir, but I shall work it out my own way. What I feel sure of is this: my impersonator has gone never to return. Saul knew of his departure—of that I feel sure; and he was satisfied that he was all right as successor to the estate, when, to his dismay, he found me in the field.”“Humph?” ejaculated Doctor Lawrence, patting the young man on the arm. “I don’t think we shall want a detective.”“Don’t flatter him, Lawrence,” said the lawyer tartly. “It’s all moonshine. I don’t like Saul Harrington; never did. But he would not have acted as our young frien— as young Mr Blank suggests.”“Perhaps not, sir. But I can say no more. My ideas are in a state of chaos at present. Still I am sure the case is somewhere in his tangle, and I mean to find it out.”“When do you begin?” said the doctor.“I have begun, sir; and I am going on now.”“Down to The Mynns?”“Perhaps. But I shall not try to see Miss Bellwood. I devote myself from this hour to the discovery of the mystery which means so much to me.”“Then you want money. How much do you require?” said the lawyer, the corners of whose mouth dropped as he spoke—“a hundred?”“A hundred! No. I only want ten or fifteen pounds for the present. If that is not enough, I can ask for more. Give me ten.”The old man’s mouth assumed its natural curve as he unlocked his table-drawer, exchanging glances with the doctor before taking out a little canvas bag, part of whose contents he counted into his hand.“This is not the lawyer acting,” he said drily; “but the—no I won’t say friend—the seeker for justice. I would not do such a thing as this from the legal point of view, for the world. There, sir, twenty-five pounds in sovereigns. If you want more when that is gone come, or write.”“Thanks,” said the young man, rising and taking the money, which he carefully counted as far as ten, returned the fifteen pounds, and took up his hat. “I’ll send if I want more. Good-day, gentlemen; I shall wire or write.”The door closed; they saw him pass the window, and then the eyes of the two old men met.“That’s the man, Lawrence,” said the lawyer, replacing the fifteen pounds.“I haven’t a doubt about it,” was the reply.“But he has only found a mare’s nest yet.”“Humph! I don’t quite know,” said the doctor. “Well, I’ll be off.”“Going?”“Yes, to see Saul Harrington again. I don’t like his condition.”“I never liked anything about him, Lawrence. But this is the man.”
Mr Hampton was seated in his dingy office in Lincoln’s Inn one morning, when the clerk announced Doctor Lawrence and another gentleman, who were shown in, the old lawyer frowning as he found who the other gentleman was.
“You, sir?” he said rather shortly.
“Yes, my dear executor,” said the young man laughing. “I am sorry to be such a nuisance to you, but I am growing impatient.”
“Very well, sir; very well; and so am I; and as you have called this morning, let me tell you that you have rewarded my friendly disposition towards you by taking a mean advantage and going down to The Mynns, again and again, like a spy upon the camp.”
“Gently, my dear sir, gently. I confess to going down to The Mynns partly by design, but it was by accident I met Miss Bellwood.”
“Accident?” exclaimed the old lawyer.
“Yes, sir, accident; and even if it had not been, please have a little mercy. Put yourself in my place. I came over here eager to succeed to my estate, and to see the lady I was to marry. I saw her and I need not say was charmed with my grandfather’s choice. There, I say it openly, I love her as the sweetest, most innocent girl I ever met; but instead of all going well, I am greeted as an impostor, and told that the young lady betrothed to me is engaged to another gentleman, myalter ego.”
“Yes, yes, yes; we know all that, sir,ad nauseum,” cried the old lawyer.
“Humph! quotation for quotation,” muttered Doctor Lawrence.
“You must wait, sir. You must wait.”
“My dear Hampton,” said the doctor, “don’t you think that we might sympathise a little more with our young friend?”
“I do not acknowledge that this gentleman is our friend,” said the lawyer sternly.
“No, sir; and it does not seem to me that you are in any hurry to acknowledge me,” said the young man laughing.
“Indeed, sir,” said the lawyer tartly. “I can only repeat my words—you must wait.”
“Can’t wait any longer, sir. You could not if you were in my case.”
“I only ask you to wait till Mr George—”
“Till this man comes back,” interposed the other. “He will not come back.”
“What authority have you for saying that?”
“Never mind, sir. I have been having a chat with Doctor Lawrence this morning, and he agrees with me.”
“I am not going to allow myself to be influenced by what you and Doctor Lawrence have agreed to,” said the lawyer sharply.
“Don’t be angry with me, old chap.”
“But you make me angry, sir. Once more, you must wait.”
“I cannot afford to.”
“Then I shall consult with Doctor Lawrence and take steps which will be very unpleasant for all parties, especially for you, sir, if your story is not genuine.”
“You mean call in police aid?”
“I do, sir.”
“Detectives,” said the young man thoughtfully. “Well, they would, or should, run this man down, and put an end to the uncertainty. But it would be terribly unpleasant for Gertrude.”
“You mean Miss Bellwood, sir.”
“No, I do not. I mean for Gertrude Bellwood, my affianced wife. No; I don’t like the detective proposition, with its publicity.”
“Indeed!” said the lawyer, looking at him searchingly.
“Not on my own account, old gentleman. I am not at all afraid of being imprisoned as a rogue and a vagabond for making impudent pretensions; but you know how unpleasant police interference would be, and the matter getting into the papers.”
“Quite right,” said the doctor.
“I know all that, sir,” replied the lawyer; “and therefore I advocated waiting.”
“And I tell you I must act. Look here, sir, I’m in a very awkward predicament. I have had back this morning a refusal from San Francisco to honour a draft. The way in which this man has forestalled me makes me seem to my agents an impostor.”
“Hum!”
“A hum?” said the young man laughing. “Well, call it so if you like.”
“I never make jokes, sir. That was an ejaculation.”
“Good. Then here is what I propose. I will be my own detective, and see if I cannot run this man down. I want to stand face to face with him.”
“That is quite right,” said the doctor, who was fidgeting about like one who feels himself out of the conversation.
“And to do this I want a sufficient sum of money placed in my hands for current expenses.”
“I could not for a moment tolerate such a proposal, sir,” said the lawyer shortly.
“I will place the necessary funds in your hands,” said the doctor.
“Thank you. And if I turn out to be a swindler?”
“Well,” said the doctor, shrugging his shoulders, “I shall lose.”
“No, you shall not, sir,” cried the young man warmly, as he held out his hand. “You know that I am no cheat, Doctor Lawrence.”
“Well, if you are,” said the cheery old doctor, wringing the proffered hand, “you are the cleverest one I ever met. Now, tell Mr Hampton what you mean to do.”
“One moment,” said the lawyer quickly. “Look here. I have been speaking so far as James Harrington’s executor. Not one penny will I consent to advance out of the estate; but if you will allow me, Mr Blank—”
“Mr George Harrington, sir.”
“Mr Blank,” persisted the lawyer.
“George Harrington, sir.”
“When you have proved yourself to be he. You are to me now Mr Blank; and I say that I shall not allow my old friend Lawrence to bear this expense alone. As a lawyer and executor I will not stir a step, but as a friend, who has some slight belief in your story, I shall share with him.”
The young man laughed.
“You’re a rum old fellow, Mr Hampton, and some of these days we three will have some hearty laughs across the walnuts and the wine over all this worry.”
“Yes, that we will,” said Doctor Lawrence. “Over a glass of port.”
“You see, gentlemen, I must get to work; for I find that, besides the pseudo George Harrington, I have another enemy to fight.”
“Another?”
“Yes, gentlemen. Mr Saul Harrington—the next heir.”
“I do not quite understand you,” said the lawyer.
“I am sorry to say I do,” said the doctor. “Saul Harrington is next heir, and there can be no doubt about his being strongly attached to our young friend Gertrude.”
“Even if this be so,” said the lawyer, “it does not strengthen your case, Mr Blank.”
“Well, for the present, agreed then,” said the young man smiling. “Mr Blank be it so. But it does strengthen my case. Now, gentlemen, I am going to be my own detective and I am fighting for a large stake.”
“Yes, it is a big estate,” said the lawyer drily.
“Hang the estate, sir. I was happy enough as a man without it, and I could be again. But I am fighting for my honour; and there is a greater stake still,” he added with his eyes flashing, as he recalled his last interview with Gertrude.
“Well, sir, what do you propose doing?”
“I am in the enemy’s camp, sir. Why should I reveal my plans?”
“No, you are not in the enemy’s camp, sir,” said the old lawyer sharply. “You are with those friends who are going to find you in the sinews of war to carry on your campaign.”
“True. Well, then, I’ll speak out: I am going to run down this man who called himself George Harrington. We must meet.”
“Good.”
“He has disappeared for one of two reasons.”
“Yes, sir; go on.”
“He is an impostor.”
“Not proven,” said the doctor.
“Not yet. But his actions show it. He has disappeared with all the money he could get together, because, by some means, he heard that I was alive.”
“Yes, that seems probable,” said the doctor, as Mr Hampton turned the table into a piano and played upon it dumb tunes.
“Probable, but only my first idea, and I don’t think it is the true solution.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t believe he could have had a suspicion that I was alive.”
“Then why did he go away?” said the lawyer sharply.
“That we must find out through Saul Harrington.”
“Mr Saul Harrington is seriously ill,” said Doctor Lawrence. “I saw him this morning at his request.”
“What’s the matter?”
“The injury to his arm. It seems he had a nasty fall upon one of the ice slopes in Switzerland, and the doctors there treated it wrongly. It’s a nasty case, and is giving me a deal of anxiety.”
“He’ll get well soon enough,” said the lawyer roughly. “Go on, Mr Blank. Let’s have the rest of your theory.”
“My theory is, sir, that during one or other of the drinking bouts they had together the pseudo George Harrington let his tongue run rather fast, and Saul Harrington was too clever for him; he nailed him at once.”
“He would have denounced him.”
“He either would had I not come forward, or he has some reason for keeping it back.”
“Not plausible, Mr Blank,” said the lawyer shortly. “You are spoiling your own case.”
“Perhaps so, sir, but I shall work it out my own way. What I feel sure of is this: my impersonator has gone never to return. Saul knew of his departure—of that I feel sure; and he was satisfied that he was all right as successor to the estate, when, to his dismay, he found me in the field.”
“Humph?” ejaculated Doctor Lawrence, patting the young man on the arm. “I don’t think we shall want a detective.”
“Don’t flatter him, Lawrence,” said the lawyer tartly. “It’s all moonshine. I don’t like Saul Harrington; never did. But he would not have acted as our young frien— as young Mr Blank suggests.”
“Perhaps not, sir. But I can say no more. My ideas are in a state of chaos at present. Still I am sure the case is somewhere in his tangle, and I mean to find it out.”
“When do you begin?” said the doctor.
“I have begun, sir; and I am going on now.”
“Down to The Mynns?”
“Perhaps. But I shall not try to see Miss Bellwood. I devote myself from this hour to the discovery of the mystery which means so much to me.”
“Then you want money. How much do you require?” said the lawyer, the corners of whose mouth dropped as he spoke—“a hundred?”
“A hundred! No. I only want ten or fifteen pounds for the present. If that is not enough, I can ask for more. Give me ten.”
The old man’s mouth assumed its natural curve as he unlocked his table-drawer, exchanging glances with the doctor before taking out a little canvas bag, part of whose contents he counted into his hand.
“This is not the lawyer acting,” he said drily; “but the—no I won’t say friend—the seeker for justice. I would not do such a thing as this from the legal point of view, for the world. There, sir, twenty-five pounds in sovereigns. If you want more when that is gone come, or write.”
“Thanks,” said the young man, rising and taking the money, which he carefully counted as far as ten, returned the fifteen pounds, and took up his hat. “I’ll send if I want more. Good-day, gentlemen; I shall wire or write.”
The door closed; they saw him pass the window, and then the eyes of the two old men met.
“That’s the man, Lawrence,” said the lawyer, replacing the fifteen pounds.
“I haven’t a doubt about it,” was the reply.
“But he has only found a mare’s nest yet.”
“Humph! I don’t quite know,” said the doctor. “Well, I’ll be off.”
“Going?”
“Yes, to see Saul Harrington again. I don’t like his condition.”
“I never liked anything about him, Lawrence. But this is the man.”
Chapter Thirty Five.A Late Arrival.The same questions were asked day by day, on either side, when Mr Hampton returned to The Mynns from his daily visits to town.“Any news?”“No.”“Any news?”“No.”But, somehow, it was observed that Gertrude did not appear at all low-spirited. In fact, as each day glided by she seemed to become more hopeful and buoyant. There was a new light in her eyes, and as Mrs Hampton watched she often caught sight of a pleasant, satisfied smile playing about the girl’s lips which had never appeared before.Every now and then her voice rang through the old house, as she sang some ballad; but her happiest moments seemed to be those when she daily took Bruno down the garden for his bask on the lawn, and a dreamy look stole over the girl’s face as she knelt down by the dog, and laid her hand on his damaged head just in the same way as she had seen other hands laid one day, that seemed now long ago.She could kneel thus and dream happy day-dreams, again and again—dreams of which she never tired, and all the time the sun shone down and glorified her luxuriant hair, gave beauty to her graceful form, and made the dark yew hedge glisten as if frosted with silver, the velvet lawn seem of golden green, and the great, red brick wall, that lay between her and the road, glow and show up the neatly-trained trees.A new life seemed to have dawned for her, and the sunshine brightened her darkened heart as she bent over and caressed the dog—lifting playfully first one and then the other of his long, soft, hairy ears to whisper with girlish glee:“Yes, some day, Bruno—some day he will come again.” Then she looked round, almost with a guilty start, but only for the former restful look of happiness to come back.“Such a change, ma’am; such a change. Poor darling! If that other business had gone on, it would have broken her poor, dear heart.”“Yes, Denton,” said Mrs Hampton, as she went on knitting. And then to herself: “Well, somehow, it’s very pleasant to be down here in the quaint old place.”“What does the doctor say about Mr Saul, ma’am?” asked Denton another time, for there was nothing she enjoyed better than respectfully asking a few questions, and leading the lady guest of the place into a long chat.“That he is very bad, Denton.”“Poor young man! Do you think I ought to go and nurse him, ma’am?”“No, Denton,” said the old lady so decidedly, that the housekeeper started, and looked at her wonderingly.Their further conversation was stopped by the sound of Gertrude’s voice singing as she came in from the garden, and the old housekeeper stood with her hands clasped, gazing towards the door.“Like a bird,” she said softly—“like a bird. It does my old heart good to hear her sing again. Its just like old times, ma’am; while lately, since poor, dear old master’s death and those marriage troubles came upon her, she has not been like the same.”“She seems merry enough now, Denton.”“Yes, ma’am,” said the old woman, pausing at the door as she opened it, “she’s merry enough now. And I know why—and I know why,” she added to herself, with a pleasant little laugh. “Poor darling! If she marries now, it will be the man who has stolen away her heart.”There was no news that evening when the lawyer came from town, seeming quite to have settled down now to the place, and making but rare references to his departure. Gertrude had just come in from a visit to Bruno, who had altered wonderfully during the past few days; and as she came in, it was plain to see the heart was light which animated her step, telling the thoughtful of the calm and satisfied waiting of the heart for that which was to be.“I thought Doctor Lawrence was coming down with you, Mr Hampton?” she cried.“Eh? Yes, my dear; but he preferred going and seeing a patient first. He said he’d catch the next train, and ought to be here as—There he is.”Gertrude ran to the window to wave her hand to the amiable old man, but shrank back covered with confusion, and looking suspiciously from one to the other.“Anything the matter, my dear?” said Mrs Hampton wonderingly.“Matter? No,” said the lawyer, glancing towards the window. “Why, hang it all! he has brought down Mr Blank.”“And, pray, who is Mr Blank?” said the old lady, adjusting her glasses. “Why, Phineas, what do you mean? It’s Mr George Harrington.”“Good-evening, ladies. There, you need not look so severe, Hampton; I brought our young friend down, and if the ladies consider that I have exceeded my rights, we’ll go back again.”“Such nonsense!” said Mrs Hampton sharply.“I hope you will forgive my coming,” the doctor’s companion was saying to Gertrude, as she shook hands.Silence is said to give consent. That must have been the interpretation placed upon Gertrude’s silence, for her heart was too full to speak, and their visitor stayed and dined.“No,” he said, in the course of the conversation, as to his proceedings, for imperceptibly he had won so upon all present that they seemed now to accept his words as those of the truth: “I have worked very hard and traced our friend to all his haunts, where he is well-known, but I cannot find that he has been there since the night he left here. I have been over to Paris, and on to Switzerland.”“With ten pounds?” said the old lawyer sharply.“No. I wrote to Doctor Lawrence when that sum was expended. Did he not tell you?”“No; I’ve been so busy and anxious over Saul Harrington’s case that I forgot to name it, Hampton.”The lawyer grunted.“I have traced Mr Saul Harrington’s course over on the Continent as easily as could be, but I did not hear a word about his accident.”“That’s strange,” said Mrs Hampton.“Neither could I find that mine enemy had been with him. He was alone all through; and, after spending a lot of money, time, and thought, I am forced to come back and say to you that I must seem in your eyes a greater impostor than ever.”“You must try again,” said the doctor cheerfully. “The position remains the same.”“Yes, I must try again,” said the young man thoughtfully. “But I begin to fancy that I have been working from the wrong end. We shall see.”The dinner passed off without further allusion to the search for the missing man; but it was plain enough that the visitor’s every movement was being critically scanned, the three elders unconsciously seeking for suspicious movements, or words that might indicate their visitor was playing a part, but with the result that they grew greater partisans than ever.“You’ll join us in the drawing-room?” said Mrs Hampton, as the ladies rose from the table; and she looked direct at the visitor.“You are very kind,” he replied, “but I was going to talk business with these gentlemen for a few minutes, and then go back to town.”“You will have plenty of time for both,” said the old lady; and then as they left the room: “I look your place then, Gertie, and acted as your mouthpiece,” she whispered. “Did I play my part correctly?”Gertrude tried to answer, but the words would not come; and, escaping from her companion in dread lest she would break down, she ran off to the stable to make Bruno her confidant, and ended by bringing him with her to let him lie down upon the grass just outside the drawing-room window.Meanwhile, the gentlemen were discussing the topic uppermost in their minds, and the result of the conversation was a declaration from the visitor that Saul Harrington must be made to speak out.“Must?” said the old lawyer. “Easily said, sir; but suppose it is against Saul Harrington’s interest to speak. A cross-examining barrister might do a great deal, but you could do nothing.”“I don’t know; so much depends upon accident. At all events I shall see him at once.”“That would be useless just now,” said the doctor. “He is seriously ill, and half delirious at times. You could do no good by seeing him now.”“Let’s join the ladies,” said the lawyer. “I wish you would not come down here, sir. It seems to me that you place me in a very peculiar position.”“One for which you will be grateful some day, Mr Hampton,” said the young man laughing. “How hard it is to get elderly people to do their duty.”They were on the way to the drawing-room, and the doctor had just opened the door.There was a loud bark, and the sound of something being overturned.“Bruno! Bruno!” cried Gertrude, as she caught the dog by his collar.“Bless us and save us, my dear!” cried Mrs Hampton. “Do have that dog locked up.”“What’s that? My patient!” said the young man, as he entered the drawing-room.Gertrude’s ears tingled, for this was all new to those present.There was a volley of barks and the dog stood panting and listening.“Well, Bruno, old fellow; how’s the head?”The dog gave a joyful whine, ran to him, and tried to raise himself up so as to place his paws upon the speaker’s breast, but failed.“Come, you are ten times better than when I saw you last—ever so much stronger, too. Why, the head’s getting all right again.”“When did he see him last?” thought Mrs Hampton.“Why, you seem old friends,” said Doctor Lawrence.“Yes,” said Gertrude quickly. “Mr George Harrington saw me when I was down the garden one day with the dog.”The lawyer coughed.“No, sir, don’t do that,” said the young man laughing, as he sat with the dog resting his heavy head upon his knee.“Do what, sir?”“Cough in that meaning way. It is a reflection upon the lady.”“Oh, indeed!”“Either upon her seeing me one day by accident, or upon her calling me Mr George Harrington. Come, Mr Hampton it is of no use your holding back. Never mind the lawyer. The man believes I am George Harrington, and surely there can be no harm in two affianced folk having half an hour’s chat about a dog.”The position was most painful for Gertrude, but there was a sudden diversion, for the gate-bell rang, and Mrs Hampton came to her help.“Visitors! and to-night. Why, my dear, whom do you expect?”A pause ensued as steps were heard, and directly after the old housekeeper entered quickly to whisper to Gertrude:“Mr Saul, miss, and he does seem so strange.”Saul Harrington had entered close behind her, a strange, ghastly-looking object, the more strange in aspect from his hair clinging above his dark brow, and his dress consisting mainly of an overcoat tightly-buttoned about his throat.“My dear sir!” cried the doctor, as he hurried to his side; but at that moment there was an ominous sound, and Saul seized a chair and whirled it above his head.
The same questions were asked day by day, on either side, when Mr Hampton returned to The Mynns from his daily visits to town.
“Any news?”
“No.”
“Any news?”
“No.”
But, somehow, it was observed that Gertrude did not appear at all low-spirited. In fact, as each day glided by she seemed to become more hopeful and buoyant. There was a new light in her eyes, and as Mrs Hampton watched she often caught sight of a pleasant, satisfied smile playing about the girl’s lips which had never appeared before.
Every now and then her voice rang through the old house, as she sang some ballad; but her happiest moments seemed to be those when she daily took Bruno down the garden for his bask on the lawn, and a dreamy look stole over the girl’s face as she knelt down by the dog, and laid her hand on his damaged head just in the same way as she had seen other hands laid one day, that seemed now long ago.
She could kneel thus and dream happy day-dreams, again and again—dreams of which she never tired, and all the time the sun shone down and glorified her luxuriant hair, gave beauty to her graceful form, and made the dark yew hedge glisten as if frosted with silver, the velvet lawn seem of golden green, and the great, red brick wall, that lay between her and the road, glow and show up the neatly-trained trees.
A new life seemed to have dawned for her, and the sunshine brightened her darkened heart as she bent over and caressed the dog—lifting playfully first one and then the other of his long, soft, hairy ears to whisper with girlish glee:
“Yes, some day, Bruno—some day he will come again.” Then she looked round, almost with a guilty start, but only for the former restful look of happiness to come back.
“Such a change, ma’am; such a change. Poor darling! If that other business had gone on, it would have broken her poor, dear heart.”
“Yes, Denton,” said Mrs Hampton, as she went on knitting. And then to herself: “Well, somehow, it’s very pleasant to be down here in the quaint old place.”
“What does the doctor say about Mr Saul, ma’am?” asked Denton another time, for there was nothing she enjoyed better than respectfully asking a few questions, and leading the lady guest of the place into a long chat.
“That he is very bad, Denton.”
“Poor young man! Do you think I ought to go and nurse him, ma’am?”
“No, Denton,” said the old lady so decidedly, that the housekeeper started, and looked at her wonderingly.
Their further conversation was stopped by the sound of Gertrude’s voice singing as she came in from the garden, and the old housekeeper stood with her hands clasped, gazing towards the door.
“Like a bird,” she said softly—“like a bird. It does my old heart good to hear her sing again. Its just like old times, ma’am; while lately, since poor, dear old master’s death and those marriage troubles came upon her, she has not been like the same.”
“She seems merry enough now, Denton.”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the old woman, pausing at the door as she opened it, “she’s merry enough now. And I know why—and I know why,” she added to herself, with a pleasant little laugh. “Poor darling! If she marries now, it will be the man who has stolen away her heart.”
There was no news that evening when the lawyer came from town, seeming quite to have settled down now to the place, and making but rare references to his departure. Gertrude had just come in from a visit to Bruno, who had altered wonderfully during the past few days; and as she came in, it was plain to see the heart was light which animated her step, telling the thoughtful of the calm and satisfied waiting of the heart for that which was to be.
“I thought Doctor Lawrence was coming down with you, Mr Hampton?” she cried.
“Eh? Yes, my dear; but he preferred going and seeing a patient first. He said he’d catch the next train, and ought to be here as—There he is.”
Gertrude ran to the window to wave her hand to the amiable old man, but shrank back covered with confusion, and looking suspiciously from one to the other.
“Anything the matter, my dear?” said Mrs Hampton wonderingly.
“Matter? No,” said the lawyer, glancing towards the window. “Why, hang it all! he has brought down Mr Blank.”
“And, pray, who is Mr Blank?” said the old lady, adjusting her glasses. “Why, Phineas, what do you mean? It’s Mr George Harrington.”
“Good-evening, ladies. There, you need not look so severe, Hampton; I brought our young friend down, and if the ladies consider that I have exceeded my rights, we’ll go back again.”
“Such nonsense!” said Mrs Hampton sharply.
“I hope you will forgive my coming,” the doctor’s companion was saying to Gertrude, as she shook hands.
Silence is said to give consent. That must have been the interpretation placed upon Gertrude’s silence, for her heart was too full to speak, and their visitor stayed and dined.
“No,” he said, in the course of the conversation, as to his proceedings, for imperceptibly he had won so upon all present that they seemed now to accept his words as those of the truth: “I have worked very hard and traced our friend to all his haunts, where he is well-known, but I cannot find that he has been there since the night he left here. I have been over to Paris, and on to Switzerland.”
“With ten pounds?” said the old lawyer sharply.
“No. I wrote to Doctor Lawrence when that sum was expended. Did he not tell you?”
“No; I’ve been so busy and anxious over Saul Harrington’s case that I forgot to name it, Hampton.”
The lawyer grunted.
“I have traced Mr Saul Harrington’s course over on the Continent as easily as could be, but I did not hear a word about his accident.”
“That’s strange,” said Mrs Hampton.
“Neither could I find that mine enemy had been with him. He was alone all through; and, after spending a lot of money, time, and thought, I am forced to come back and say to you that I must seem in your eyes a greater impostor than ever.”
“You must try again,” said the doctor cheerfully. “The position remains the same.”
“Yes, I must try again,” said the young man thoughtfully. “But I begin to fancy that I have been working from the wrong end. We shall see.”
The dinner passed off without further allusion to the search for the missing man; but it was plain enough that the visitor’s every movement was being critically scanned, the three elders unconsciously seeking for suspicious movements, or words that might indicate their visitor was playing a part, but with the result that they grew greater partisans than ever.
“You’ll join us in the drawing-room?” said Mrs Hampton, as the ladies rose from the table; and she looked direct at the visitor.
“You are very kind,” he replied, “but I was going to talk business with these gentlemen for a few minutes, and then go back to town.”
“You will have plenty of time for both,” said the old lady; and then as they left the room: “I look your place then, Gertie, and acted as your mouthpiece,” she whispered. “Did I play my part correctly?”
Gertrude tried to answer, but the words would not come; and, escaping from her companion in dread lest she would break down, she ran off to the stable to make Bruno her confidant, and ended by bringing him with her to let him lie down upon the grass just outside the drawing-room window.
Meanwhile, the gentlemen were discussing the topic uppermost in their minds, and the result of the conversation was a declaration from the visitor that Saul Harrington must be made to speak out.
“Must?” said the old lawyer. “Easily said, sir; but suppose it is against Saul Harrington’s interest to speak. A cross-examining barrister might do a great deal, but you could do nothing.”
“I don’t know; so much depends upon accident. At all events I shall see him at once.”
“That would be useless just now,” said the doctor. “He is seriously ill, and half delirious at times. You could do no good by seeing him now.”
“Let’s join the ladies,” said the lawyer. “I wish you would not come down here, sir. It seems to me that you place me in a very peculiar position.”
“One for which you will be grateful some day, Mr Hampton,” said the young man laughing. “How hard it is to get elderly people to do their duty.”
They were on the way to the drawing-room, and the doctor had just opened the door.
There was a loud bark, and the sound of something being overturned.
“Bruno! Bruno!” cried Gertrude, as she caught the dog by his collar.
“Bless us and save us, my dear!” cried Mrs Hampton. “Do have that dog locked up.”
“What’s that? My patient!” said the young man, as he entered the drawing-room.
Gertrude’s ears tingled, for this was all new to those present.
There was a volley of barks and the dog stood panting and listening.
“Well, Bruno, old fellow; how’s the head?”
The dog gave a joyful whine, ran to him, and tried to raise himself up so as to place his paws upon the speaker’s breast, but failed.
“Come, you are ten times better than when I saw you last—ever so much stronger, too. Why, the head’s getting all right again.”
“When did he see him last?” thought Mrs Hampton.
“Why, you seem old friends,” said Doctor Lawrence.
“Yes,” said Gertrude quickly. “Mr George Harrington saw me when I was down the garden one day with the dog.”
The lawyer coughed.
“No, sir, don’t do that,” said the young man laughing, as he sat with the dog resting his heavy head upon his knee.
“Do what, sir?”
“Cough in that meaning way. It is a reflection upon the lady.”
“Oh, indeed!”
“Either upon her seeing me one day by accident, or upon her calling me Mr George Harrington. Come, Mr Hampton it is of no use your holding back. Never mind the lawyer. The man believes I am George Harrington, and surely there can be no harm in two affianced folk having half an hour’s chat about a dog.”
The position was most painful for Gertrude, but there was a sudden diversion, for the gate-bell rang, and Mrs Hampton came to her help.
“Visitors! and to-night. Why, my dear, whom do you expect?”
A pause ensued as steps were heard, and directly after the old housekeeper entered quickly to whisper to Gertrude:
“Mr Saul, miss, and he does seem so strange.”
Saul Harrington had entered close behind her, a strange, ghastly-looking object, the more strange in aspect from his hair clinging above his dark brow, and his dress consisting mainly of an overcoat tightly-buttoned about his throat.
“My dear sir!” cried the doctor, as he hurried to his side; but at that moment there was an ominous sound, and Saul seized a chair and whirled it above his head.
Chapter Thirty Six.What Mr Blank Thought.“Quick! Pray! Oh, Bruno, Bruno!” shrieked Gertrude, as she dashed forward to seize the dog—a vain attempt, for stronger hands had already failed to hold the furious beast, who had pricked up his ears at Mrs Denton’s mention of the name, and then, as Saul entered the room, given vent to a deep-toned roar, and, as if once more in possession of his full strength, leaped at his old enemy’s throat.The attempt made by George Harrington to hold him was vain, but his second attempt was more successful, though it was made after receiving a heavy blow from the chair with which Saul struck at the dog, falling in the effort, to lie prone with Bruno’s teeth fixed in the tightly-buttoned collar of his coat.“Let go, dog! Let go!” roared George, seizing Bruno’s collar with both hands, and by the exercise of his great strength wrenching him away with the collar of the coat in his teeth.Then ensued a tremendous struggle, the dog making furious plunges to get at the prostrate figure, growling and barking the while, with the accompanying worrying sound made by a dog half mad with rage.“It’s no good, my lad,” cried George excitedly. “I’ve got you. Hold still!”For response the dog threw his head from side to side, making frantic plunges, and ninety-nine men out of a hundred would have let him go, but, after a desperate fight, Bruno was thrown and held securely, his opponent pressing him to the carpet by the help of his bended knee.“He’s done,” panted the young man. “Do you give in, sir?”The dog uttered a low whine, that sounded like a remonstrance, and lay quite still.“Get that gentleman out of the room quickly. Or no. Here, Gertrude, show me where I can lock up the dog. A room, outhouse—anywhere.”“Better shoot him. The dog’s mad,” cried Mr Hampton excitedly.“Oh!” ejaculated Gertrude.“The dog’s not mad,” panted George. “You lead the way.”“Yes, yes,” cried Gertrude.“I think I can hold him. Stand on one side, and be ready to shut the window to as soon as I get him outside.”“I’m ready,” said Gertrude, with a calm display of courage which brought forth an admiring glance.“Then stand clear.”Removing his knee, George Harrington dragged the dog quickly along the carpet, and out on to the lawn. The window was closed, and Gertrude ran to his side.“This way,” she cried; and running to the side of the house she drew open a door in the wall, through which, after another fierce struggle, the dog was dragged, the door banged to, and then Gertrude ran across the yard and opened the stable door.“Pray, pray, mind he doesn’t bite you,” she cried in agony.“No fear; I’ve got him too tightly; besides he hasn’t tried. By Jove! he has got his strength again, and no mistake. There, sir, you’re mastered.”As he spoke, he gave his captive a swing forward, dashed back, and closed the door, just as the dog bounded at it, and tore at the panel, baying furiously.“Well, I’m in a nice state. But that Saul Harrington! He and the dog must be bad friends.”“Yes,” said Gertrude, with her voice trembling and deep from agitation, “but you—you are hurt.”“Not in the least,” he said, catching the hands extended to him in an imploring way. “No, not hurt. So full of happiness to hear you speak like that.”“Mr Harrington!” she faltered.“Yes, George Harrington, indeed, indeed,” he cried, with his voice sounding deep and emotional.“Let us make haste back,” she cried, hurriedly opened the door in the wall, trembling, troubled, pleased—she could not define her sensations; and it was with a sense of relief that she found Mrs Hampton coming toward them.“Is that dreadful dog locked up safely?” she cried.“Yes, quite safe; but I had a terrible fight with his lordship,” said George Harrington, coming to his companion’s help. “No fear of his getting well now.”“He must have gone mad.”“No; only towards Mr Saul Harrington, I’m afraid.”They hurried back to the drawing-room, to become conscious of a hoarse, panting sound, and a low angry muttering from the couch, where the two old men were feebly struggling with Saul Harrington.“Quick! Help here!” said the old lawyer.George Harrington sprang to them, and pinned Saul down to the couch, from which he vainly struggled to rise.“You had better go, ladies,” cried the young man.“Can I be of any use?” said Gertrude calmly. “Doctor Lawrence knows how I can help.”“Yes, help me,” said the old man. “Can you hold him?”“Oh, yes; I have him fast for the present.”Doctor Lawrence hurried to a table, took out his pocket-book, and wrote a prescription, tore out the pencilled leaf, and gave it to Gertrude.“Send and get that made up for me,” he said hastily.Gertrude flew from the room, and the doctor hastened to help keep the patient within bounds.“It was utter madness to leave his bed,” he said.“Perhaps he came in search of you.”“Impossible. He could not have known I was coming down here. Great heavens! what a state he is in.”For at that moment, as the sick man struggled in his delirium, he heaved himself till his body formed an arch, and it was all that the three men could do to keep him upon the couch.“Like anyone suffering from a powerful dose of strychnia,” muttered the doctor.“What are you going to do, Lawrence?” whispered the lawyer. “Can’t you give him some narcotic that will last till you get him back to his chambers?”“What I have sent for,” said the doctor, in a quiet, business-like way. “Mrs Hampton, we want something to form a long broad band to hold him down to the couch, without doing any harm.”“Why not one of those long curtains?” said George Harrington, pointing to an alcove full of books.“Yes, the very thing,” cried the doctor, looking in the indicated direction.George Harrington waited until a paroxysm was over, and the patient had for the moment ceased to struggle, before leaping upon a table and rapidly unhooking the piece of drapery, which was formed into a broad band, and tightly secured across the patient’s chest before being fastened below the couch.“Half an hour to wait before we can get the medicine, I’m afraid,” said the doctor. “I want to get him composed, and then we might put him in a fly and drive up to his chambers.”“You’ll never get him away to-night,” said George Harrington bluntly. “Rather hard on the ladies; but he is a relative, and it seems to me that you ought to keep him here.”“I’m afraid he is right, Hampton,” said the doctor. “Good heavens! what a paroxysm.”There was a long struggle, during which the delirious man made desperate efforts to get free.“Down, beast!” he literally growled; and in his terrible fit he seemed to be struggling with the dog. “Down, brute! I’ll dash your brains out! Curse him! how strong he is?”There was a few moments’ cessation, and Mrs Hampton, who had been wringing her hands by the window, and trying hard to master her emotion, came up to say calmly:“Can I do anything?”“Yes. Go and see whom Gertrude has sent,” cried the doctor impatiently. “If that old woman has gone, it will be an hour before she is back.”Mrs Hampton hurried out, and the sound made by the closing door seemed to startle the sick man into action again.“Ah, would you?” he growled. “Beast! Devil! What! Bite! Ah!”He uttered a yell of pain, and clapped his hand upon his injured arm.“Curse you! take that, and that. Now then! Yes, yelp and snarl. You’ll never bite again. Ah! It’s like red-hot irons going into my flesh; but kill your mad dog, they say, and there’s no harm done.”“That miserable dog’s attack seems to have quite overset him,” whispered the lawyer. “Good heavens! what a terrible position for us all.”George Harrington said nothing, but stood at the head of the couch, ready to seize and hold the sufferer the moment the next paroxysm occurred.He had not long to wait, for with a howl that did not seem human, Saul Harrington made such a start that the couch cracked as if it was being wrenched apart.“Ah, you here! Watching! But you can’t speak—you can’t tell tales. If I’d known, I’d have silenced you. Lie down, brute! Do you hear—lie down! Hey, Bruno, then; good dog. Lie down, old man,” he said, laughing softly, and talking in a low cajoling tone. “You know me, Bruno. Good dog, then. Lie down, old fellow. Friends, do you hear—friends. Good dog, then.”He extended a hand toward the dog he imagined that he saw, smiling unpleasantly the while, and then once more he started and yelled horribly.“Down, you beast! Curse you! Bitten me, have you. I’ll have your life, if I die for it. Beast! Devil! Curse you! Strong, are you? Yes, and I am strong too. Oh, if I had a knife!”He panted out these words in a series of hoarse cries; and all he while, as far as his hands would allow, he went through the movements of one having a desperate struggle with a great dog—fending off its efforts to get at his throat. Again clapping his hand to his arm with a moan of pain, and ending by striking at the animal which had attacked him blow after blow, to sink back looking hideously ghastly and perfectly exhausted by his efforts.“Poor fellow!” said the lawyer, as the sick man lay with his eyes half closed. “How unlucky for the dog to spring at him. Seems to have completely shattered his brain.”“Yes,” said the doctor gravely, as he held his patient’s wrist.“Terrible work, sir,” continued the lawyer, looking at George Harrington, but the young man made no reply. He was staring thoughtfully at the wretched man, apparently waiting the moment when he must lean over the head of the sofa, and hold him down; but all the while following up a clue which his active imagination painted before him in vivid colours.For, as he stood there, the wanderings of the delirious man’s brain evoked a chain of ideas, and he saw farther than his two companions, who attributed the violence of the paroxysms to the shock caused by the dog’s attack.“The trouble must be farther back than that,” he thought. “The dog had dashed at him as if for some former cause,” and the incoherent panting words which he heard better than his companions at the feet could, he read as by the key suggested to his mind. Once started upon this track, all came very easily.“There must have been some old encounter when the dog had attacked him. His words suggested it all, even to the effect of the encounter. He had been bitten and—then—to be sure, there was that broken walking-stick!—he had retaliated with a blow of such savage violence that he believed he had killed the dog; and, of course, it was perfectly clear—the next time they met, and the poor brute had sufficiently recovered, it had dashed at him.”Saul Harrington’s breath came in a low, stertorous way, as Mrs Hampton just then re-entered the room, and crept to her husband’s side on tip-toe to whisper:“Gertrude has gone herself. I’ll go back and wait till she returns.”George Harrington felt a pang of disappointment as he asked himself why he had not gone, but the reason came to remind him, for as Mrs Hampton stole back to the door, Saul uttered a savage cry, and they had hard work to keep him down, as he threw his head from side to side, gnashing his teeth, snapping, and making a hideous, worrying sound, such as might come from a dog. For some moments no coherent words left his lips—nothing but these terrible, low, hoarse cries, and the doctor whispered from where he stood to George Harrington:“For heaven’s sake take care. If he bit you now, the consequences might be serious.”A shudder ran through the young man; but he forgot his own peril in the excitement of hearing the words which now came distinctly to strengthen his theory; as, with convulsed features, and eyes seeming to start as they watched something which the diseased brain had conjure: up, Saul panted savagely:“Yes, you beast! I see you tracking and watching me. But keep off! I’ll kill you as I would a rat. Hah! Take him off—take him off! My arm! My arm! Don’t you see! His teeth have met and he has torn a piece out. Ah! Down, beast, down! Hah! You had it that time! Curse you! You’ll never do that again. Dead—dead—dead!”He sank back once more in utter exhaustion, but his lips kept moving feebly, and a curious jerk from time to time sent a spasmodic action through his limbs.“Yes, that must be it,” thought George Harrington; “the dog had attacked him, and fastened upon his arm, and this injury, which he attributed to a fall on the Alps, was from the bite of the dog, which for some reason—of course so as not to hurt Gertrude’s feelings—he wished to keep quiet. The reason was simple enough. He had struck and nearly killed the dog.”His musings were interrupted by a fresh paroxysm, so horrible that those who held the delirious man shuddered, and George Harrington felt a strange dread of the doctor’s patient, as it seemed to him probable that this might be all the result of that bite—a form of hydrophobia—that horrible incurable disease which sets medicine knowledge at defiance, and laughs all remedies to scorn.Saul Harrington’s cries, curses and writhings once more subsided just as the great iron gate was heard to clang.“Go, and fetch the medicine, Hampton,” whispered the doctor, “and tell them it is impossible to take him away. A bed must be made up on the floor of the study.”“Yes. Quite right.”“And they must not come in here again. It is too horrible. Really it is not safe.”A fierce cry rang out at that moment, and Saul’s strength seemed to be so superhuman that the broad fold of curtain which helped to keep him down parted, and, tossing aside the hands which tried to restrain him, he made for the door, which Gertrude opened.George Harrington uttered a low cry, which sounded like a quick, sharp expiration of the breath, and leaped across the room to seize the wretched maniac as he was in the act of springing upon Gertrude, who shrank back against the door appalled by the hideous look upon his face.Then began a terrific struggle, in which, for some time, no aid could be rendered.No sound escaped Gertrude’s lips, but she stood there white and trembling, as if fascinated by the horror of the scene, while Mrs Hampton held her by the arm with the intention of dragging her away, but only to be so paralysed by terror that she could not stir.For a good five minutes nothing was heard in the room but the overturning and breaking of furniture, mingled with the hoarse panting animal cries of Saul, who seemed to see in George Harrington the dog he sought to destroy.In spite of all the others could do, matters went hard with George; but the dexterity of a man used to wild life stood him in good stead, and just as in the midst of a savage, snarling sound Gertrude felt the room swimming round her, and as if insensibility was coming on, there was a heavy crash, and the shock brought her back to life.George Harrington was seated upon Saul’s chest, as he said in a panting voice:“Now, doctor, quick! Give him what you have. I can’t hold him long. About beat out.”The next minute the doctor was on his knees beside the wretched man, seizing any opportunity to trickle a few drops of the strong sedative between the gnashing teeth—a dangerous and difficult task—till a goodly portion had been swallowed as well as scattered over the carpet, and then Saul lay staring and muttering something about the dog.“I’ve exhibited a tremendous dose,” whispered Doctor Lawrence, as he recorked the bottle. “That must calm him for a time.”But quite a quarter of an hour passed before Saul sank into a state of stupor; and then after he had been replaced upon the couch, it was wheeled into the study, a more secure bandage placed across his heaving chest; and the exhausted party sat down to watch.
“Quick! Pray! Oh, Bruno, Bruno!” shrieked Gertrude, as she dashed forward to seize the dog—a vain attempt, for stronger hands had already failed to hold the furious beast, who had pricked up his ears at Mrs Denton’s mention of the name, and then, as Saul entered the room, given vent to a deep-toned roar, and, as if once more in possession of his full strength, leaped at his old enemy’s throat.
The attempt made by George Harrington to hold him was vain, but his second attempt was more successful, though it was made after receiving a heavy blow from the chair with which Saul struck at the dog, falling in the effort, to lie prone with Bruno’s teeth fixed in the tightly-buttoned collar of his coat.
“Let go, dog! Let go!” roared George, seizing Bruno’s collar with both hands, and by the exercise of his great strength wrenching him away with the collar of the coat in his teeth.
Then ensued a tremendous struggle, the dog making furious plunges to get at the prostrate figure, growling and barking the while, with the accompanying worrying sound made by a dog half mad with rage.
“It’s no good, my lad,” cried George excitedly. “I’ve got you. Hold still!”
For response the dog threw his head from side to side, making frantic plunges, and ninety-nine men out of a hundred would have let him go, but, after a desperate fight, Bruno was thrown and held securely, his opponent pressing him to the carpet by the help of his bended knee.
“He’s done,” panted the young man. “Do you give in, sir?”
The dog uttered a low whine, that sounded like a remonstrance, and lay quite still.
“Get that gentleman out of the room quickly. Or no. Here, Gertrude, show me where I can lock up the dog. A room, outhouse—anywhere.”
“Better shoot him. The dog’s mad,” cried Mr Hampton excitedly.
“Oh!” ejaculated Gertrude.
“The dog’s not mad,” panted George. “You lead the way.”
“Yes, yes,” cried Gertrude.
“I think I can hold him. Stand on one side, and be ready to shut the window to as soon as I get him outside.”
“I’m ready,” said Gertrude, with a calm display of courage which brought forth an admiring glance.
“Then stand clear.”
Removing his knee, George Harrington dragged the dog quickly along the carpet, and out on to the lawn. The window was closed, and Gertrude ran to his side.
“This way,” she cried; and running to the side of the house she drew open a door in the wall, through which, after another fierce struggle, the dog was dragged, the door banged to, and then Gertrude ran across the yard and opened the stable door.
“Pray, pray, mind he doesn’t bite you,” she cried in agony.
“No fear; I’ve got him too tightly; besides he hasn’t tried. By Jove! he has got his strength again, and no mistake. There, sir, you’re mastered.”
As he spoke, he gave his captive a swing forward, dashed back, and closed the door, just as the dog bounded at it, and tore at the panel, baying furiously.
“Well, I’m in a nice state. But that Saul Harrington! He and the dog must be bad friends.”
“Yes,” said Gertrude, with her voice trembling and deep from agitation, “but you—you are hurt.”
“Not in the least,” he said, catching the hands extended to him in an imploring way. “No, not hurt. So full of happiness to hear you speak like that.”
“Mr Harrington!” she faltered.
“Yes, George Harrington, indeed, indeed,” he cried, with his voice sounding deep and emotional.
“Let us make haste back,” she cried, hurriedly opened the door in the wall, trembling, troubled, pleased—she could not define her sensations; and it was with a sense of relief that she found Mrs Hampton coming toward them.
“Is that dreadful dog locked up safely?” she cried.
“Yes, quite safe; but I had a terrible fight with his lordship,” said George Harrington, coming to his companion’s help. “No fear of his getting well now.”
“He must have gone mad.”
“No; only towards Mr Saul Harrington, I’m afraid.”
They hurried back to the drawing-room, to become conscious of a hoarse, panting sound, and a low angry muttering from the couch, where the two old men were feebly struggling with Saul Harrington.
“Quick! Help here!” said the old lawyer.
George Harrington sprang to them, and pinned Saul down to the couch, from which he vainly struggled to rise.
“You had better go, ladies,” cried the young man.
“Can I be of any use?” said Gertrude calmly. “Doctor Lawrence knows how I can help.”
“Yes, help me,” said the old man. “Can you hold him?”
“Oh, yes; I have him fast for the present.”
Doctor Lawrence hurried to a table, took out his pocket-book, and wrote a prescription, tore out the pencilled leaf, and gave it to Gertrude.
“Send and get that made up for me,” he said hastily.
Gertrude flew from the room, and the doctor hastened to help keep the patient within bounds.
“It was utter madness to leave his bed,” he said.
“Perhaps he came in search of you.”
“Impossible. He could not have known I was coming down here. Great heavens! what a state he is in.”
For at that moment, as the sick man struggled in his delirium, he heaved himself till his body formed an arch, and it was all that the three men could do to keep him upon the couch.
“Like anyone suffering from a powerful dose of strychnia,” muttered the doctor.
“What are you going to do, Lawrence?” whispered the lawyer. “Can’t you give him some narcotic that will last till you get him back to his chambers?”
“What I have sent for,” said the doctor, in a quiet, business-like way. “Mrs Hampton, we want something to form a long broad band to hold him down to the couch, without doing any harm.”
“Why not one of those long curtains?” said George Harrington, pointing to an alcove full of books.
“Yes, the very thing,” cried the doctor, looking in the indicated direction.
George Harrington waited until a paroxysm was over, and the patient had for the moment ceased to struggle, before leaping upon a table and rapidly unhooking the piece of drapery, which was formed into a broad band, and tightly secured across the patient’s chest before being fastened below the couch.
“Half an hour to wait before we can get the medicine, I’m afraid,” said the doctor. “I want to get him composed, and then we might put him in a fly and drive up to his chambers.”
“You’ll never get him away to-night,” said George Harrington bluntly. “Rather hard on the ladies; but he is a relative, and it seems to me that you ought to keep him here.”
“I’m afraid he is right, Hampton,” said the doctor. “Good heavens! what a paroxysm.”
There was a long struggle, during which the delirious man made desperate efforts to get free.
“Down, beast!” he literally growled; and in his terrible fit he seemed to be struggling with the dog. “Down, brute! I’ll dash your brains out! Curse him! how strong he is?”
There was a few moments’ cessation, and Mrs Hampton, who had been wringing her hands by the window, and trying hard to master her emotion, came up to say calmly:
“Can I do anything?”
“Yes. Go and see whom Gertrude has sent,” cried the doctor impatiently. “If that old woman has gone, it will be an hour before she is back.”
Mrs Hampton hurried out, and the sound made by the closing door seemed to startle the sick man into action again.
“Ah, would you?” he growled. “Beast! Devil! What! Bite! Ah!”
He uttered a yell of pain, and clapped his hand upon his injured arm.
“Curse you! take that, and that. Now then! Yes, yelp and snarl. You’ll never bite again. Ah! It’s like red-hot irons going into my flesh; but kill your mad dog, they say, and there’s no harm done.”
“That miserable dog’s attack seems to have quite overset him,” whispered the lawyer. “Good heavens! what a terrible position for us all.”
George Harrington said nothing, but stood at the head of the couch, ready to seize and hold the sufferer the moment the next paroxysm occurred.
He had not long to wait, for with a howl that did not seem human, Saul Harrington made such a start that the couch cracked as if it was being wrenched apart.
“Ah, you here! Watching! But you can’t speak—you can’t tell tales. If I’d known, I’d have silenced you. Lie down, brute! Do you hear—lie down! Hey, Bruno, then; good dog. Lie down, old man,” he said, laughing softly, and talking in a low cajoling tone. “You know me, Bruno. Good dog, then. Lie down, old fellow. Friends, do you hear—friends. Good dog, then.”
He extended a hand toward the dog he imagined that he saw, smiling unpleasantly the while, and then once more he started and yelled horribly.
“Down, you beast! Curse you! Bitten me, have you. I’ll have your life, if I die for it. Beast! Devil! Curse you! Strong, are you? Yes, and I am strong too. Oh, if I had a knife!”
He panted out these words in a series of hoarse cries; and all he while, as far as his hands would allow, he went through the movements of one having a desperate struggle with a great dog—fending off its efforts to get at his throat. Again clapping his hand to his arm with a moan of pain, and ending by striking at the animal which had attacked him blow after blow, to sink back looking hideously ghastly and perfectly exhausted by his efforts.
“Poor fellow!” said the lawyer, as the sick man lay with his eyes half closed. “How unlucky for the dog to spring at him. Seems to have completely shattered his brain.”
“Yes,” said the doctor gravely, as he held his patient’s wrist.
“Terrible work, sir,” continued the lawyer, looking at George Harrington, but the young man made no reply. He was staring thoughtfully at the wretched man, apparently waiting the moment when he must lean over the head of the sofa, and hold him down; but all the while following up a clue which his active imagination painted before him in vivid colours.
For, as he stood there, the wanderings of the delirious man’s brain evoked a chain of ideas, and he saw farther than his two companions, who attributed the violence of the paroxysms to the shock caused by the dog’s attack.
“The trouble must be farther back than that,” he thought. “The dog had dashed at him as if for some former cause,” and the incoherent panting words which he heard better than his companions at the feet could, he read as by the key suggested to his mind. Once started upon this track, all came very easily.
“There must have been some old encounter when the dog had attacked him. His words suggested it all, even to the effect of the encounter. He had been bitten and—then—to be sure, there was that broken walking-stick!—he had retaliated with a blow of such savage violence that he believed he had killed the dog; and, of course, it was perfectly clear—the next time they met, and the poor brute had sufficiently recovered, it had dashed at him.”
Saul Harrington’s breath came in a low, stertorous way, as Mrs Hampton just then re-entered the room, and crept to her husband’s side on tip-toe to whisper:
“Gertrude has gone herself. I’ll go back and wait till she returns.”
George Harrington felt a pang of disappointment as he asked himself why he had not gone, but the reason came to remind him, for as Mrs Hampton stole back to the door, Saul uttered a savage cry, and they had hard work to keep him down, as he threw his head from side to side, gnashing his teeth, snapping, and making a hideous, worrying sound, such as might come from a dog. For some moments no coherent words left his lips—nothing but these terrible, low, hoarse cries, and the doctor whispered from where he stood to George Harrington:
“For heaven’s sake take care. If he bit you now, the consequences might be serious.”
A shudder ran through the young man; but he forgot his own peril in the excitement of hearing the words which now came distinctly to strengthen his theory; as, with convulsed features, and eyes seeming to start as they watched something which the diseased brain had conjure: up, Saul panted savagely:
“Yes, you beast! I see you tracking and watching me. But keep off! I’ll kill you as I would a rat. Hah! Take him off—take him off! My arm! My arm! Don’t you see! His teeth have met and he has torn a piece out. Ah! Down, beast, down! Hah! You had it that time! Curse you! You’ll never do that again. Dead—dead—dead!”
He sank back once more in utter exhaustion, but his lips kept moving feebly, and a curious jerk from time to time sent a spasmodic action through his limbs.
“Yes, that must be it,” thought George Harrington; “the dog had attacked him, and fastened upon his arm, and this injury, which he attributed to a fall on the Alps, was from the bite of the dog, which for some reason—of course so as not to hurt Gertrude’s feelings—he wished to keep quiet. The reason was simple enough. He had struck and nearly killed the dog.”
His musings were interrupted by a fresh paroxysm, so horrible that those who held the delirious man shuddered, and George Harrington felt a strange dread of the doctor’s patient, as it seemed to him probable that this might be all the result of that bite—a form of hydrophobia—that horrible incurable disease which sets medicine knowledge at defiance, and laughs all remedies to scorn.
Saul Harrington’s cries, curses and writhings once more subsided just as the great iron gate was heard to clang.
“Go, and fetch the medicine, Hampton,” whispered the doctor, “and tell them it is impossible to take him away. A bed must be made up on the floor of the study.”
“Yes. Quite right.”
“And they must not come in here again. It is too horrible. Really it is not safe.”
A fierce cry rang out at that moment, and Saul’s strength seemed to be so superhuman that the broad fold of curtain which helped to keep him down parted, and, tossing aside the hands which tried to restrain him, he made for the door, which Gertrude opened.
George Harrington uttered a low cry, which sounded like a quick, sharp expiration of the breath, and leaped across the room to seize the wretched maniac as he was in the act of springing upon Gertrude, who shrank back against the door appalled by the hideous look upon his face.
Then began a terrific struggle, in which, for some time, no aid could be rendered.
No sound escaped Gertrude’s lips, but she stood there white and trembling, as if fascinated by the horror of the scene, while Mrs Hampton held her by the arm with the intention of dragging her away, but only to be so paralysed by terror that she could not stir.
For a good five minutes nothing was heard in the room but the overturning and breaking of furniture, mingled with the hoarse panting animal cries of Saul, who seemed to see in George Harrington the dog he sought to destroy.
In spite of all the others could do, matters went hard with George; but the dexterity of a man used to wild life stood him in good stead, and just as in the midst of a savage, snarling sound Gertrude felt the room swimming round her, and as if insensibility was coming on, there was a heavy crash, and the shock brought her back to life.
George Harrington was seated upon Saul’s chest, as he said in a panting voice:
“Now, doctor, quick! Give him what you have. I can’t hold him long. About beat out.”
The next minute the doctor was on his knees beside the wretched man, seizing any opportunity to trickle a few drops of the strong sedative between the gnashing teeth—a dangerous and difficult task—till a goodly portion had been swallowed as well as scattered over the carpet, and then Saul lay staring and muttering something about the dog.
“I’ve exhibited a tremendous dose,” whispered Doctor Lawrence, as he recorked the bottle. “That must calm him for a time.”
But quite a quarter of an hour passed before Saul sank into a state of stupor; and then after he had been replaced upon the couch, it was wheeled into the study, a more secure bandage placed across his heaving chest; and the exhausted party sat down to watch.
Chapter Thirty Seven.Mr Hampton’s Recipe.Doctor Lawrence’s first action on getting his patient quieted down, was to telegraph off to town for a colleague, and an attendant from the asylum of a friend; but it was too late to expect assistance that night, and so as to be prepared in case of another terrible scene, the gardener’s aid was called in, the man willingly offering to help and sit up with the doctor, to watch.“You will stay, too, Mr Harrington?” said Mrs Hampton. “Gertrude, my dear, why do you not speak?”The poor girl gave her old friend a reproachful look, which spoke volumes.“I should have offered to stay,” said George, “but I felt a delicacy about so doing, and it seemed as if I should be forcing my presence here.”“If in this time of terrible distress and anxiety,” said Gertrude with quiet dignity, “Mr George Harrington will stay and help us, we shall be most grateful.”“I can’t make a pretty speech in return for that, Miss Bellwood,” he replied, “but you know how much more comfortable I shall be to know that you are all safe.”“It will be trespassing sadly upon you,” said Gertrude, in formal tones.“Yes, terribly,” he said drily. “But it suits me exactly, for I want to sit down and think.”He had plenty of time for thought during the long hours of that painful night. The ladies ostensibly went off to bed, while the gentlemen occupied the dining-room, the doctor rising from time to time to go in to see his patient, who lay in a complete stupor—overcome for the time being by the potency of the medicine which had been administered.It was a slow, dreary watch, for all were more or less exhausted by the struggle which they had had, but no one complained, and three o’clock had arrived when, on going once more into the study, the doctor found that the gardener was nodding.“You will have to go and lie down, my man,” said the doctor coldly.“Beg pardon, sir; very sorry,” said the man apologetically. “Bit drowsy, but if you’d stop here a quarter of an hour while I go and walk round the yard and garden, kill a few slugs, and have a quiet pipe, I shall come back as fresh as a daisy.”“Very well, my man, go; but tell the gentlemen in the dining-room first.”The gardener went out into the kitchen, filled his pipe, took the matches from the chimney-piece, and went out, telling himself that this were the rummest start he knew, and wondering what master would say if he came back and found Mr Saul ill there.Meanwhile George Harrington sat in the dining-room thinking over the problem he had set himself to solve, till he felt perfectly convinced that Saul had, for some reason, had an encounter with the dog, been severely bitten, and had then nearly killed his assailant, leaving him for dead.He was just hard at work, trying whether it was possible to connect this with his enemy’s disappearance, when he became aware of the fact that after nodding very peacefully, as if bowing to the counterfeit resemblance of his old friend on the wall, the lawyer suddenly sat up with a jerk.“I beg your pardon, sir,” he said confusedly; “I am not used to this sort of thing.”“Then lie down on the sofa and have a nap, sir,” said the young man quietly.“No, I am not going to give in; but do you know, Mr Blank, I think a cigar and a good glass of toddy would be pleasant, soothing, stimulating and everything good one could say of it.”“Yes, it would be pleasant,” said George Harrington smiling.“Then I shall take the liberty, as executor, and poor old James Harrington’s friend, of helping myself.”“Easier to propose than to perform,” said the old lawyer, after an examination. “Sideboard, cupboards, cellarettes and sarcophagus all locked up. Can’t rouse the ladies; it would be brutal. But I tell you what; I know. Come with me.”He led the way into the hall, lit a candle, and, leaving it on the slab, went softly into the study, followed by George.“Still asleep?” he whispered.“Yes, and calmer,” was the reply.“Look here, Lawrence, I’ve been thinking that a glass of toddy and one of the old Partagas apiece would be good medicine, eh? Excusable under the circumstances?”“My dear Hampton, you ought to have been a physician,” said the doctor smiling.“There, Mr Blank,” whispered the old lawyer, rubbing his hands; “indorsed by the faculty. Here are the cigars,” he said, opening the cabinet and taking out a box; “and here is a spirit-stand, but it is empty, I know; but I thought of going to the cellar and getting a bottle of that old Cognac from the far bin. Would you mind letting me reach to that drawer? Bless my heart, I seem to be quite at home in the old place.”He opened the drawer, took out the cellar keys softly, nodded to the doctor, and, followed by George Harrington, went out, closed the door carefully, and then descended the passage and the few steps leading to the cellar door.“Now, I do not hold, Mr Blank,” said the old man, pausing, candle in one hand, keys in the other, before the door, “that you are the rightful heir here; but I do say this, that the real Simon Pure will own as fine a cellar of wine as any man in the country.”“Many a good bottle of which, my dear sir, I hope we shall discuss.”“Ah, that remains to be proved. Would you mind holding the candle? Thanks. Look like burglars or debauchees, opening cellars at this time of the night; but my poor old friend had some very choice Cognac. Come along. Now, the other door. Hold up the light. Bin number twenty-four. Bless my soul, what’s that?”A long, low, dismal howl close behind them nearly made the lawyer drop the long-necked bottle.“That dog escaped?” cried George Harrington excitedly; and as there was a panting noise, he caught at the collar of the dimly-seen dog as it came by him; but instead of struggling, the great beast rose upon its hind legs, planted its paws upon his breast, threw up its head again, and uttered its dismal howl.“The gardener must have let him out,” said George quickly.“And Saul Harrington must be dead,” said the old lawyer, in a solemn whisper, which seemed to run along the roof of the gloomy, crypt-like place.
Doctor Lawrence’s first action on getting his patient quieted down, was to telegraph off to town for a colleague, and an attendant from the asylum of a friend; but it was too late to expect assistance that night, and so as to be prepared in case of another terrible scene, the gardener’s aid was called in, the man willingly offering to help and sit up with the doctor, to watch.
“You will stay, too, Mr Harrington?” said Mrs Hampton. “Gertrude, my dear, why do you not speak?”
The poor girl gave her old friend a reproachful look, which spoke volumes.
“I should have offered to stay,” said George, “but I felt a delicacy about so doing, and it seemed as if I should be forcing my presence here.”
“If in this time of terrible distress and anxiety,” said Gertrude with quiet dignity, “Mr George Harrington will stay and help us, we shall be most grateful.”
“I can’t make a pretty speech in return for that, Miss Bellwood,” he replied, “but you know how much more comfortable I shall be to know that you are all safe.”
“It will be trespassing sadly upon you,” said Gertrude, in formal tones.
“Yes, terribly,” he said drily. “But it suits me exactly, for I want to sit down and think.”
He had plenty of time for thought during the long hours of that painful night. The ladies ostensibly went off to bed, while the gentlemen occupied the dining-room, the doctor rising from time to time to go in to see his patient, who lay in a complete stupor—overcome for the time being by the potency of the medicine which had been administered.
It was a slow, dreary watch, for all were more or less exhausted by the struggle which they had had, but no one complained, and three o’clock had arrived when, on going once more into the study, the doctor found that the gardener was nodding.
“You will have to go and lie down, my man,” said the doctor coldly.
“Beg pardon, sir; very sorry,” said the man apologetically. “Bit drowsy, but if you’d stop here a quarter of an hour while I go and walk round the yard and garden, kill a few slugs, and have a quiet pipe, I shall come back as fresh as a daisy.”
“Very well, my man, go; but tell the gentlemen in the dining-room first.”
The gardener went out into the kitchen, filled his pipe, took the matches from the chimney-piece, and went out, telling himself that this were the rummest start he knew, and wondering what master would say if he came back and found Mr Saul ill there.
Meanwhile George Harrington sat in the dining-room thinking over the problem he had set himself to solve, till he felt perfectly convinced that Saul had, for some reason, had an encounter with the dog, been severely bitten, and had then nearly killed his assailant, leaving him for dead.
He was just hard at work, trying whether it was possible to connect this with his enemy’s disappearance, when he became aware of the fact that after nodding very peacefully, as if bowing to the counterfeit resemblance of his old friend on the wall, the lawyer suddenly sat up with a jerk.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” he said confusedly; “I am not used to this sort of thing.”
“Then lie down on the sofa and have a nap, sir,” said the young man quietly.
“No, I am not going to give in; but do you know, Mr Blank, I think a cigar and a good glass of toddy would be pleasant, soothing, stimulating and everything good one could say of it.”
“Yes, it would be pleasant,” said George Harrington smiling.
“Then I shall take the liberty, as executor, and poor old James Harrington’s friend, of helping myself.”
“Easier to propose than to perform,” said the old lawyer, after an examination. “Sideboard, cupboards, cellarettes and sarcophagus all locked up. Can’t rouse the ladies; it would be brutal. But I tell you what; I know. Come with me.”
He led the way into the hall, lit a candle, and, leaving it on the slab, went softly into the study, followed by George.
“Still asleep?” he whispered.
“Yes, and calmer,” was the reply.
“Look here, Lawrence, I’ve been thinking that a glass of toddy and one of the old Partagas apiece would be good medicine, eh? Excusable under the circumstances?”
“My dear Hampton, you ought to have been a physician,” said the doctor smiling.
“There, Mr Blank,” whispered the old lawyer, rubbing his hands; “indorsed by the faculty. Here are the cigars,” he said, opening the cabinet and taking out a box; “and here is a spirit-stand, but it is empty, I know; but I thought of going to the cellar and getting a bottle of that old Cognac from the far bin. Would you mind letting me reach to that drawer? Bless my heart, I seem to be quite at home in the old place.”
He opened the drawer, took out the cellar keys softly, nodded to the doctor, and, followed by George Harrington, went out, closed the door carefully, and then descended the passage and the few steps leading to the cellar door.
“Now, I do not hold, Mr Blank,” said the old man, pausing, candle in one hand, keys in the other, before the door, “that you are the rightful heir here; but I do say this, that the real Simon Pure will own as fine a cellar of wine as any man in the country.”
“Many a good bottle of which, my dear sir, I hope we shall discuss.”
“Ah, that remains to be proved. Would you mind holding the candle? Thanks. Look like burglars or debauchees, opening cellars at this time of the night; but my poor old friend had some very choice Cognac. Come along. Now, the other door. Hold up the light. Bin number twenty-four. Bless my soul, what’s that?”
A long, low, dismal howl close behind them nearly made the lawyer drop the long-necked bottle.
“That dog escaped?” cried George Harrington excitedly; and as there was a panting noise, he caught at the collar of the dimly-seen dog as it came by him; but instead of struggling, the great beast rose upon its hind legs, planted its paws upon his breast, threw up its head again, and uttered its dismal howl.
“The gardener must have let him out,” said George quickly.
“And Saul Harrington must be dead,” said the old lawyer, in a solemn whisper, which seemed to run along the roof of the gloomy, crypt-like place.
Chapter Thirty Eight.New Mortar.They hurried to the door as soon as they had recovered from the first shock.“Look here, sir,” said George, “what shall we do about the dog?”“Ah, I forgot him. It would be too horrible to let him get into the room where the poor fellow is. Yes, poor fellow!De mortuis, et cetera. Come along, Mr Blank, and we’ll lock the dog in here for a few hours.”“Good idea,” was the reply; and the outer door of the cellar was locked upon Bruno, who made no attempt to follow; but when they reached the study door, all was perfectly still, and upon George’s turning the handle softly, the doctor quickly raised his head and gave them a nod.“Got it?” he said. “I’ll have mine here.”“How is Mr Saul?” said the old lawyer in a trembling voice.“Unchanged. He will have another paroxysm, though, when the effects of the medicine pass off.”“Doctor Lawrence,” said George quickly, as he gazed searchingly in the old man’s eyes, “are not these symptoms very similar to those which would occur if a man had been bitten by a savage or mad dog?”“Almost identical, sir,” said the old doctor. “But Mr Saul assured me that the wound was not a bite, but an abrasure that had gone bad, consequent upon ignorant treatment by a foreign doctor, and was poisoning the blood.”“Thank you, sir,” said the young man gravely; and as soon as the lawyer had replaced the keys, they quietly left the room, and were on their way to prepare the hot spirit and water, when they stopped short, and Mr Hampton grasped his companion’s arm, as from the cellar, sounding smothered and strange, there came the low howl of the dog.“We must stop that,” said the lawyer excitedly. “I don’t think I’m at all superstitious, but when you know a patient is in a dangerous state, it is too horrible to have a dog uttering those blood-curdling howls.”“It does not sound pleasant,” said George thoughtfully.“Stop a moment; I know,” whispered Mr Hampton; and he went down the passage, and unhooked a baize door fastened back against the wall, the effect being that the sound was deadened, though not destroyed.“That must do for the present,” he said. “I dread our having another scene with that brute.”“Is he always as savage and fierce as I saw him?” asked George.“Oh, dear, no. As a rule the quietest and most docile of animals, but he never seems to have liked Saul Harrington.”“Is anything the matter?” said a voice in a low whisper, and they found that Gertrude had come softly down the stairs, and that Mrs Hampton was looking over the balustrade.“No, nothing is wrong,” said George hastily.“But I heard Bruno howling. Yes: there it is again.”George explained the reason, and after a few moments’ conversation they were about to return upstairs when, in spite of the closed doors, the dog’s howl came in a deep, low, thrilling tone, and directly after he began to bark in a deep utterance that seemed to vibrate through the house.“He’ll set that young fellow off again,” said George Harrington sharply. “I’ll try and get him back to the stable.”“I’ll come and help you,” said Gertrude quietly.“No; the animal developed such strange ferocity that I don’t think it is safe.”“Safe? Bruno would not hurt me,” said Gertrude, with a smile.“Not intentionally, perhaps; but leave him to me.”There was so much decision in the request—a request which almost sounded like an order, that Gertrude, hardly knowing why, gave way at once, and returned with Mrs Hampton to their room, while in company with the lawyer, George Harrington went back to the cellar door, just within which they could hear the dog snuffing, and every now and then uttering his uneasy whine, followed by a howl.“What is it, my lad?” said George, with his mouth to the key-hole.The effect was magical, for the dog seemed to raise himself up against the door, barking wildly, and then they could hear him scratching away the sawdust.“Lie down, old chap! Lie down, Bruno!” cried George.There was at this another sharp burst of barking, as if the dog was excitedly striving to get out.“Shut that baize door, sir,” said George; “and then we must get him out, and back to the stable. He’ll worry the doctor’s patient to death.”The key was brought forth, and George proceeded to open the door.“Do you think there’s any danger?” whispered the old lawyer.“Not a bit.”“But he seems so savage.”“Not with me,” said George, as he threw open the door. “Here, Bruno!” he cried.The dog bounced out, and for the moment it seemed to Mr Hampton that he was about to attack the young man, for he rose on his hind legs, and placed his paws breast-high, barking furiously.“Come, come; what’s the matter?” said George, seizing him with both hands by the collar. “Don’t you like to be shut up there. Some folks would; eh, sir?”“I don’t think the brute is safe,” said Mr Hampton. “Pray get him out.”“Yes, I’ll take him to the stable. Now, Bruno, old chap. Will you lock that door, sir?”George Harrington had to speak loudly, for the dog was keeping up his excited bark, and mingling it with whines; but the moment the old lawyer moved towards the door the animal dropped down on all fours, shook himself free, and dashed back into the wine-cellar.“Come out, sir!” cried the lawyer. “I thought he didn’t like the place?”“Here—Bruno, Bruno!”The dog responded with a sharp, angry bark, evidently from some distance.“Oh, I see what it is; he can smell rats.”“But we can’t have him making that noise in the middle of the night.”“Come out, sir!” cried George, entering the cellar and calling the dog, who came bounding towards him; but as an effort was made to seize his collar, he sprang round and dashed back.“Give me the candle, Mr Hampton.”“No,” said the old man; “you’ll want both hands to him. I’ll light you, or you’ll think I’m a terrible coward. I’m not used to dogs.”He looked smilingly in his companion’s face, and went to the front.“I know the cellar better than you do, sir. Good heavens, dog?”The lawyer and the light were both nearly upset, for as he moved forward Bruno literally rushed at him, but only to turn again and run back right into the depths of the cellar.“Here, Bruno! Come here, sir!” cried George sternly. “We don’t want to go ratting now.”But the dog paid no heed to the call, and went on barking furiously, while the next minute they reached the spot where he stood with his head outstretched, making the place echo.“Come here, you old stupid!” said George good-humouredly; and, taking hold of the dog’s collar with one hand, he patted his head with the other. “Now, then, we don’t want to find rats. Come along.”The dog looked up in his face, whined, and then swung round and going to the blank patch of whitewashed wall, threw up his head and howled.“Yes, it must be rats,” said the old lawyer, “behind that bricked-up part. Try and drive him out.”George Harrington turned sharply on the lawyer.“Bricked-up part?” he said.“Yes, there’s another cellar there through that arch, where old Mr Harrington laid down a quantity of wine for his grandson. Well, what is it? Yes; that’s the place.”George had snatched the candle, and gone to the wall to hold the light close to the whitewashed bricks.As he did so the dog grew more uneasy and excited, looking from one to the other, and barking at the wall.“Well?” said the old lawyer, as his companion turned sharply and looked him full in the eyes.“You said you did not understand dogs, Mr Hampton?”“No, not a bit; but I think we ought to get this noisy brute out of the house.”“I do understand them a little,” said George excitedly. “Mr Hampton, there’s something wrong here.”“What do you mean?”“You say that is a bricked-up part of the cellar?”“Yes; the old man did it for his heir.”“And it has never been opened since?”“Of course not.”George looked at the brickwork again, scanning it very narrowly with the candle close to the wall.“Yes, it has,” he said, taking out his knife, and trying the mortar between the bricks, and then the other parts. “This mortar is comparatively soft.”“Dampness of the place.”“Newness of the mortar, sir. That dog, by his wonderful instinct, knows that something is wrong behind here.”“Then he’s a precious clever dog if he does, that’s all I can say, because if you are right that inner cellar has been robbed and carefully built up again.”“This cellar has certainly been opened, sir, and built up again,” said George, drawing his breath with a peculiar hiss as a curious suspicion seemed to flash through the dark parts of his brain.Meanwhile the dog had watched every movement in silence, but only to grow excited again and stand barking.“I’m of opinion,” said the old lawyer dogmatically, “that Bruno smells a rat, and that you have discovered a mare’s nest. Why, hang it, man, don’t look at me in that ghastly manner. What’s the matter?”“I don’t know, sir, but I have a horrible suspicion.”“Good heavens! My dear young friend, what do you mean?”“I may be wrong, sir, but look at that dog.”“Yes, I believe he is going mad.”“I do not, sir. He has made a discovery.”“Yes, of rats,” said the lawyer pettishly.“I tell you once more, sir, I may be wrong; but Bruno seems to have found the clue I sought in vain.”“Clue?—what clue?”“We have been searching for the man who called himself George Harrington.”“You have, sir. I have not.”“Well, I have. It may sound romantic and strange, but at the present moment I have a horrible dread that we have found him at last.”“What do you mean—where?”For answer George Harrington pointed to the wall.“What?” ejaculated the old man, in a hoarse whisper, and he caught at and held tightly by his companion’s arm.“I have had suspicions flashing about in a vague way in my brain, sir, but I could not arrange them. Now they begin to assume shape.”“Great heavens!”“Look here, sir. This dog has been lying half dead ever since the disappearance of that man.”“Yes.”“What does he do as soon as he encounters Saul Harrington?”“Fly at him.”“Yes. Why should he? Surely he has not been in the habit of trying to get at the throat of a relative and visitor of the house.”“That’s quite true; certainly.”“You see the dog is as gentle with us as can be. Go to him yourself, and pat him.”“I hardly—Yes, I will,” said the old man, mastering his dislike and dread; and, taking a couple of steps forward, he patted the dog’s head. “Why, Bruno, old dog, what’s the matter?” he said in an awe-stricken whisper.The dog swung round, looked at him, barked loudly, then rose up at him, placing his paws on his shoulders, and howled mournfully.“There, you see,” said George, laying his hand on the dog’s head. “Mad? No more than we are.”“But—but what has that to do with your theory of the man’s disappearance?”“Mr Hampton, I am not going to place it before you in words. My suspicion is that there has been foul play, and unless I am wrong, that man lies murdered behind yonder wall.”The old lawyer caught him by the arm, and looked in his face with his own turning quite white.“You horrify me,” he whispered in awe-stricken tones. “Surely it is impossible. Then you think that Mr Saul—”“Never mind what I think,” cried George Harrington sharply. “I only say that I have a horrible suspicion that there has been foul play.”“Then—then,” cried the lawyer with trembling voice, “you—Oh, it is impossible!”“No, sir; we have heard of such things before.”“Yes. Then, of course, we must have a search—the police.”“No, sir; we may be wrong.”“Yes, yes—of course,” cried the old man eagerly—“Yes; you must be wrong.”“Look at that dog,” whispered George.The old man turned to see that the dog was snuffing about the wall, and ended by beginning to tear away the sawdust at the bottom.“This is too horrible,” whispered the old man, wiping his damp brow. “What would you advise?”“Finding out the truth, sir; and at once.”“But how. Whom would you trust?”“Ourselves,” said George sternly. “Let me see: the gardener is in the house. He must be got rid of, and we must not let the ladies or anyone know what we are going to do.”“But what we are going to do?”“You are going to hold the light, sir, while I tear down that wall.”The lawyer gazed at him in speechless horror, but seemed to yield at once to the stronger mind.“Bruno!” cried George sharply.The dog bounded to him.“Lie down! Watch! Watch!”The dog uttered a low growl, and followed him as he pointed to the wall, crouched directly, and remained silent and motionless as they left the cellar, and closed and locked the door.
They hurried to the door as soon as they had recovered from the first shock.
“Look here, sir,” said George, “what shall we do about the dog?”
“Ah, I forgot him. It would be too horrible to let him get into the room where the poor fellow is. Yes, poor fellow!De mortuis, et cetera. Come along, Mr Blank, and we’ll lock the dog in here for a few hours.”
“Good idea,” was the reply; and the outer door of the cellar was locked upon Bruno, who made no attempt to follow; but when they reached the study door, all was perfectly still, and upon George’s turning the handle softly, the doctor quickly raised his head and gave them a nod.
“Got it?” he said. “I’ll have mine here.”
“How is Mr Saul?” said the old lawyer in a trembling voice.
“Unchanged. He will have another paroxysm, though, when the effects of the medicine pass off.”
“Doctor Lawrence,” said George quickly, as he gazed searchingly in the old man’s eyes, “are not these symptoms very similar to those which would occur if a man had been bitten by a savage or mad dog?”
“Almost identical, sir,” said the old doctor. “But Mr Saul assured me that the wound was not a bite, but an abrasure that had gone bad, consequent upon ignorant treatment by a foreign doctor, and was poisoning the blood.”
“Thank you, sir,” said the young man gravely; and as soon as the lawyer had replaced the keys, they quietly left the room, and were on their way to prepare the hot spirit and water, when they stopped short, and Mr Hampton grasped his companion’s arm, as from the cellar, sounding smothered and strange, there came the low howl of the dog.
“We must stop that,” said the lawyer excitedly. “I don’t think I’m at all superstitious, but when you know a patient is in a dangerous state, it is too horrible to have a dog uttering those blood-curdling howls.”
“It does not sound pleasant,” said George thoughtfully.
“Stop a moment; I know,” whispered Mr Hampton; and he went down the passage, and unhooked a baize door fastened back against the wall, the effect being that the sound was deadened, though not destroyed.
“That must do for the present,” he said. “I dread our having another scene with that brute.”
“Is he always as savage and fierce as I saw him?” asked George.
“Oh, dear, no. As a rule the quietest and most docile of animals, but he never seems to have liked Saul Harrington.”
“Is anything the matter?” said a voice in a low whisper, and they found that Gertrude had come softly down the stairs, and that Mrs Hampton was looking over the balustrade.
“No, nothing is wrong,” said George hastily.
“But I heard Bruno howling. Yes: there it is again.”
George explained the reason, and after a few moments’ conversation they were about to return upstairs when, in spite of the closed doors, the dog’s howl came in a deep, low, thrilling tone, and directly after he began to bark in a deep utterance that seemed to vibrate through the house.
“He’ll set that young fellow off again,” said George Harrington sharply. “I’ll try and get him back to the stable.”
“I’ll come and help you,” said Gertrude quietly.
“No; the animal developed such strange ferocity that I don’t think it is safe.”
“Safe? Bruno would not hurt me,” said Gertrude, with a smile.
“Not intentionally, perhaps; but leave him to me.”
There was so much decision in the request—a request which almost sounded like an order, that Gertrude, hardly knowing why, gave way at once, and returned with Mrs Hampton to their room, while in company with the lawyer, George Harrington went back to the cellar door, just within which they could hear the dog snuffing, and every now and then uttering his uneasy whine, followed by a howl.
“What is it, my lad?” said George, with his mouth to the key-hole.
The effect was magical, for the dog seemed to raise himself up against the door, barking wildly, and then they could hear him scratching away the sawdust.
“Lie down, old chap! Lie down, Bruno!” cried George.
There was at this another sharp burst of barking, as if the dog was excitedly striving to get out.
“Shut that baize door, sir,” said George; “and then we must get him out, and back to the stable. He’ll worry the doctor’s patient to death.”
The key was brought forth, and George proceeded to open the door.
“Do you think there’s any danger?” whispered the old lawyer.
“Not a bit.”
“But he seems so savage.”
“Not with me,” said George, as he threw open the door. “Here, Bruno!” he cried.
The dog bounced out, and for the moment it seemed to Mr Hampton that he was about to attack the young man, for he rose on his hind legs, and placed his paws breast-high, barking furiously.
“Come, come; what’s the matter?” said George, seizing him with both hands by the collar. “Don’t you like to be shut up there. Some folks would; eh, sir?”
“I don’t think the brute is safe,” said Mr Hampton. “Pray get him out.”
“Yes, I’ll take him to the stable. Now, Bruno, old chap. Will you lock that door, sir?”
George Harrington had to speak loudly, for the dog was keeping up his excited bark, and mingling it with whines; but the moment the old lawyer moved towards the door the animal dropped down on all fours, shook himself free, and dashed back into the wine-cellar.
“Come out, sir!” cried the lawyer. “I thought he didn’t like the place?”
“Here—Bruno, Bruno!”
The dog responded with a sharp, angry bark, evidently from some distance.
“Oh, I see what it is; he can smell rats.”
“But we can’t have him making that noise in the middle of the night.”
“Come out, sir!” cried George, entering the cellar and calling the dog, who came bounding towards him; but as an effort was made to seize his collar, he sprang round and dashed back.
“Give me the candle, Mr Hampton.”
“No,” said the old man; “you’ll want both hands to him. I’ll light you, or you’ll think I’m a terrible coward. I’m not used to dogs.”
He looked smilingly in his companion’s face, and went to the front.
“I know the cellar better than you do, sir. Good heavens, dog?”
The lawyer and the light were both nearly upset, for as he moved forward Bruno literally rushed at him, but only to turn again and run back right into the depths of the cellar.
“Here, Bruno! Come here, sir!” cried George sternly. “We don’t want to go ratting now.”
But the dog paid no heed to the call, and went on barking furiously, while the next minute they reached the spot where he stood with his head outstretched, making the place echo.
“Come here, you old stupid!” said George good-humouredly; and, taking hold of the dog’s collar with one hand, he patted his head with the other. “Now, then, we don’t want to find rats. Come along.”
The dog looked up in his face, whined, and then swung round and going to the blank patch of whitewashed wall, threw up his head and howled.
“Yes, it must be rats,” said the old lawyer, “behind that bricked-up part. Try and drive him out.”
George Harrington turned sharply on the lawyer.
“Bricked-up part?” he said.
“Yes, there’s another cellar there through that arch, where old Mr Harrington laid down a quantity of wine for his grandson. Well, what is it? Yes; that’s the place.”
George had snatched the candle, and gone to the wall to hold the light close to the whitewashed bricks.
As he did so the dog grew more uneasy and excited, looking from one to the other, and barking at the wall.
“Well?” said the old lawyer, as his companion turned sharply and looked him full in the eyes.
“You said you did not understand dogs, Mr Hampton?”
“No, not a bit; but I think we ought to get this noisy brute out of the house.”
“I do understand them a little,” said George excitedly. “Mr Hampton, there’s something wrong here.”
“What do you mean?”
“You say that is a bricked-up part of the cellar?”
“Yes; the old man did it for his heir.”
“And it has never been opened since?”
“Of course not.”
George looked at the brickwork again, scanning it very narrowly with the candle close to the wall.
“Yes, it has,” he said, taking out his knife, and trying the mortar between the bricks, and then the other parts. “This mortar is comparatively soft.”
“Dampness of the place.”
“Newness of the mortar, sir. That dog, by his wonderful instinct, knows that something is wrong behind here.”
“Then he’s a precious clever dog if he does, that’s all I can say, because if you are right that inner cellar has been robbed and carefully built up again.”
“This cellar has certainly been opened, sir, and built up again,” said George, drawing his breath with a peculiar hiss as a curious suspicion seemed to flash through the dark parts of his brain.
Meanwhile the dog had watched every movement in silence, but only to grow excited again and stand barking.
“I’m of opinion,” said the old lawyer dogmatically, “that Bruno smells a rat, and that you have discovered a mare’s nest. Why, hang it, man, don’t look at me in that ghastly manner. What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know, sir, but I have a horrible suspicion.”
“Good heavens! My dear young friend, what do you mean?”
“I may be wrong, sir, but look at that dog.”
“Yes, I believe he is going mad.”
“I do not, sir. He has made a discovery.”
“Yes, of rats,” said the lawyer pettishly.
“I tell you once more, sir, I may be wrong; but Bruno seems to have found the clue I sought in vain.”
“Clue?—what clue?”
“We have been searching for the man who called himself George Harrington.”
“You have, sir. I have not.”
“Well, I have. It may sound romantic and strange, but at the present moment I have a horrible dread that we have found him at last.”
“What do you mean—where?”
For answer George Harrington pointed to the wall.
“What?” ejaculated the old man, in a hoarse whisper, and he caught at and held tightly by his companion’s arm.
“I have had suspicions flashing about in a vague way in my brain, sir, but I could not arrange them. Now they begin to assume shape.”
“Great heavens!”
“Look here, sir. This dog has been lying half dead ever since the disappearance of that man.”
“Yes.”
“What does he do as soon as he encounters Saul Harrington?”
“Fly at him.”
“Yes. Why should he? Surely he has not been in the habit of trying to get at the throat of a relative and visitor of the house.”
“That’s quite true; certainly.”
“You see the dog is as gentle with us as can be. Go to him yourself, and pat him.”
“I hardly—Yes, I will,” said the old man, mastering his dislike and dread; and, taking a couple of steps forward, he patted the dog’s head. “Why, Bruno, old dog, what’s the matter?” he said in an awe-stricken whisper.
The dog swung round, looked at him, barked loudly, then rose up at him, placing his paws on his shoulders, and howled mournfully.
“There, you see,” said George, laying his hand on the dog’s head. “Mad? No more than we are.”
“But—but what has that to do with your theory of the man’s disappearance?”
“Mr Hampton, I am not going to place it before you in words. My suspicion is that there has been foul play, and unless I am wrong, that man lies murdered behind yonder wall.”
The old lawyer caught him by the arm, and looked in his face with his own turning quite white.
“You horrify me,” he whispered in awe-stricken tones. “Surely it is impossible. Then you think that Mr Saul—”
“Never mind what I think,” cried George Harrington sharply. “I only say that I have a horrible suspicion that there has been foul play.”
“Then—then,” cried the lawyer with trembling voice, “you—Oh, it is impossible!”
“No, sir; we have heard of such things before.”
“Yes. Then, of course, we must have a search—the police.”
“No, sir; we may be wrong.”
“Yes, yes—of course,” cried the old man eagerly—“Yes; you must be wrong.”
“Look at that dog,” whispered George.
The old man turned to see that the dog was snuffing about the wall, and ended by beginning to tear away the sawdust at the bottom.
“This is too horrible,” whispered the old man, wiping his damp brow. “What would you advise?”
“Finding out the truth, sir; and at once.”
“But how. Whom would you trust?”
“Ourselves,” said George sternly. “Let me see: the gardener is in the house. He must be got rid of, and we must not let the ladies or anyone know what we are going to do.”
“But what we are going to do?”
“You are going to hold the light, sir, while I tear down that wall.”
The lawyer gazed at him in speechless horror, but seemed to yield at once to the stronger mind.
“Bruno!” cried George sharply.
The dog bounded to him.
“Lie down! Watch! Watch!”
The dog uttered a low growl, and followed him as he pointed to the wall, crouched directly, and remained silent and motionless as they left the cellar, and closed and locked the door.