With his Brother.
Sir Karl locked the gate safely, wound himself through the maze of
trees, and soon reached the open space before the house. Part of the
grass-plat was steeped in light, and he saw Mrs. Grey walking there.
He crossed it to accost her.
"Did you get back yesterday, Rose?" he inquired, after shaking hands.
"No, not until this afternoon. Rennet kept me. I saw him when I drove
there yesterday: but he was then preparing to go out of town for the
rest of the day on business, and it was impossible for him to do what
was wanted before this morning. So I had to wait in town."
"I wonder we did not chance to travel down together, then!" observed
Karl. "I did not return until this afternoon. Would you like to take
my arm, Rose, while you walk?"
"Thank you," she answered, and took it. She had on the black dress she
had worn in London, and her golden hair gleamed with all its beauty in
the moonlight. Karl remarked that she leaned upon him somewhat
heavily.
"You are tired, Rose!"
"I felt very tired when I got home. But Ann Hopley preaches to me so
much about the necessity of taking exercise, that I thought I would
walk about here for half-an-hour. I have had scarcely any walking
to-day; I was so fatigued with the journey and with the shopping
yesterday that I had to keep as still as I could this morning. But
there was a good deal to do; what with Rennet and some errands I had
left."
"Where's Adam?"
"In-doors. He is complaining of that sensation of pain again. I do not
like it at all, Karl."
"And while he is lying concealed here he cannot have medical advice.
At least I don't see how it would be possible."
"It would not be possible," said Rose, decisively. "Oh, but I
forgot--I have to tell you something, Karl. Whom do you think I
travelled with from Basham to Foxwood?"
"I don't know."
"Your wife."
"My wife!"
"It is true. I was in the ladies' carriage alone all the way from
London. At Basham a young and elegant lady in pearl-grey silk and
white bonnet, with the daintiest parasol I ever saw was put in. An old
gentleman--she called him 'General'--and some ladies were with her on
the platform. We were alone in the carriage, she and I; and I think we
looked at each other a good deal. What she thought of me I don't know;
but I thought that she had one of the sweetest and gentlest faces my
eyes ever rested on. She had a sweet voice, too, for we spoke a little
just as we got to Foxwood."
"But did you know her?--did she know you?" interrupted Karl.
"No, no. I should have had no idea who she was, but that there arose
some question about the one fly waiting there, and some one said it
had been brought for Lady Andinnian. Karl, if ever I felt startled in
my life, it was then."
"Why were you startled?"
"Don't you see? 'Lady Andinnian!' I took it at the moment to mean
myself, and I felt my face turn white at the danger. Fear is quiet;
and I am living in it always, Karl. What I thought was, that Adam had
sent that fly for me, supposing I might come by that train; and that,
in his incaution, or perhaps out of bravado, he had given my true
name. Of course nothing could have been more absurd than this fancy of
mine--but it was what arose to me. Almost at once I recognized my
mistake, and saw how it was--that _she_ was the Lady Andinnian meant,
Sir Karl's wife. I think I said something to her, but I was so
confused I hardly know. I only have wondered since that I did not
guess who she was at first, from her attire and her beauty."
"Lucy did not tell me of this."
"Oh dear no, she would not be likely to recall it, or to know me from
any other stranger one may meet in travelling. Adam says you love her
to excess: I am sure, Karl, I don't wonder at it."
He made no answer. Yes, he loved his wife with a wondrous love: but
just now she was trying that love sharply.
"And about the matter you went up upon?" resumed Mrs. Grey. "Did you
succeed in learning anything of Philip Salter?"
"Not much. I joined you on the grass here to tell you what I did
learn, before going in to Adam. Salter has never been retaken: and the
police have an idea that he is still in concealment in England.
There's a reward of five hundred pounds out against him."
"Why do they think he is in England?" asked Rose, quickly.
"I don't know. They would not tell me."
"You communicated with the police, then, Karl. You were not afraid?"
"Not with the police as a body, but with one of their private
detectives: a Mr. Burtenshaw. Plunkett and Plunkett gave me a note to
him. It was he who said he believed Salter to be still in the country:
but the reason for believing it he would not give me."
"And did you get him described?"
"Yes, by the very man who let him escape: a policeman named Grimley:
Burtenshaw sent for him. In nearly every particular his description
tallies with Smith."
"Oh, Karl! he is certainly Salter."
"Does Smith wear his own hair?"
"Yes. At least," she added, less decisively, "if it were false I think
I should not have failed to notice it. It is very dark; his whiskers
are nearly black and his hair is only a shade lighter."
"Just so. But--I should say Smith was forty."
"About that."
"Well, Salter, they say, would be now only five-and-thirty. I don't
attach much importance to the disparity!" added Karl: "Salter's
trouble may have prematurely aged him."
"What shall you do in it?" she resumed after a pause. "It seems to me
that if we could get Smith removed so as to leave Adam, in that sense,
free, the half of our dreadful trouble would be over."
"I don't know what I shall do," replied Karl. "It will not do to stir
an inch, as to the bringing it home to Smith, unless I am sure and
certain. At present, Rose, it seems to be for me only another care
added to the rest."
"Karlo, old fellow, is that you?" interrupted a voice from the passage
window over the porch. "What on earth do you stay chattering to the
wife for? I want you."
Karl looked up, nodded to his brother, and went in. Adam was in his
customary evening attire, and just as gay as usual. He waited for Karl
at the head of the stairs and they went together into the sitting-room
that was always used at night. This sitting-room had a second door;
one in the paneling, not visible to a casual observer. It communicated
with a passage that nothing else communicated with; the passage
communicated with a spiral staircase, and that with nobody knew what
or where. Had Adam Andinnian been surprised in his retreat by his
enemies, it was by that private door he would have made his escape, or
tried to do it.
"Rose says you are not very well, Adam: that you are feeling the pain
again," began Karl. "What do you think it is?"
"Goodness knows: I don't," returned Adam. "My opinion is, that I must
in some way have given my inside a deuce of a wrench. I don't tell
Rose that: she'd set on and worry herself."
"I hope it is nothing serious--that it will soon pass off. You see,
Adam, the cruel difficulty we should be in, if you were to require
medical advice."
"Oh, bother!" cried Adam.
"Why do you say 'bother?'"
"Because it is bother, and nothing else. When did I ever want medical
advice? In general health, I'm as strong as a horse."
"When we were young men at home, they used to say I had twice the
constitution that you had, Adam, in spite of your strong looks."
"Home fallacy!" said Adam lightly. "It was the father used to say
that, I remember. For the most part, the preaching that people make
over 'constitution' is worth no more than the breath wasted on it. The
proof of a pudding is in the eating: and the proof of a sound
constitution lies in a man's good strength. I am stronger than you,
Karl."
"As regards muscular strength, you are."
"And what's muscular strength a proof of, pray, but constitutional
strength? Come, old wise-acre!"
To argue with Adam Andinnian had been always about as profitable as to
tell a ship to sail against the wind. So Karl said no more about
strength.
"The chance that such a necessity may arise, Adam, and the difficulty
and danger that would attend it----"
"What necessity?" interrupted Adam.
"Of your requiring a medical man. Your wife will want one; but that's
different: she is supposed to live here alone, and you will of course
take care to keep out of the way at that time. But the other thought
does cross my mind anxiously now and again."
"Karlo, old man, you were always one of the anxious ones. I am content
to leave problems alone until they arise. It is the best way."
"Sometimes it may be; not always. Of course all these thoughts turn
round to one point, Adam--the urgent expediency there exists for your
quitting the Maze."
"And I am not going to quit it."
"The advance of those people on Saturday night; the studied tramp, as
I thought it, of policemen, gave me a fright, Adam. Let us suppose
such a thing for a moment as that they were coming after you! No
earthly aid could have shielded you."
"But they were not coming after me, you see; they were but carrying
some poor dead man to his home on my estate. The same fear may apply
wherever I go."
"No, it could not. It could apply to nowhere as it does to here. In
some place abroad, Adam, you would be comparatively secure and safe. I
am convinced that this locality is, of all, the most dangerous."
"If I were already at the same place you mention, wherever that may
be--an inaccessible island in the icy seas, say--I should undoubtedly
be more out of the reach of English constables and warders than I am
now: but as matters stand, Karl, I am safer here, because the danger
to me would lie in getting away. I shall not attempt to do it."
Karl paused for a few minutes before he resumed. His brother, sitting
near the shaded lamp, was turning over the pages of the "Art Journal,"
a copy of which Mrs. Grey had brought from London.
"How came you to know Smith, Adam?"
"How came I to know Smith!" repeated Sir Adam. "To tell you the truth,
Karl, Smith saved me. But for his sheltering me in the time you know
of, I should not be at liberty now; probably not in life. Until then
he was a stranger."
"And for saving you he exacts his black mail."
"Little blame to him for it," returned Sir Adam, with a half laugh.
"I believe that the man is keeping you here," continued Karl; "that
you dare not go away unless he lifts his finger."
"Naturally he is anxious for my safety, Karl; for the sake of his own
self-interest."
"Precisely so. He would rather keep you here in danger than suffer you
to escape to freedom. Do you know anything of his antecedents?"
"Nothing. For all I can tell, as to who or what the man was before
that night he rescued me, he might have dropped from the moon."
"And since then it has been the business of your life to conciliate
him, Adam!"
"What would you? The man knows that I am Adam Andinnian: and, knowing
it, he holds a sword over me. Is it worth my while, or not, to try to
keep it from falling?"
Karl sighed deeply. He saw all the intricacies of the case; and, what
was worse, he saw no outlet from them. If only he could but feel that
his brother was passably safe at the Maze, he would have been less
uneasy: but a secret instinct, that he surely believed was a
prevision, warned him of danger.
"I wish, with my whole heart, Adam, that you had never come here!"
broke from him, in his dire perplexity, the reiterated cry.
Sir Adam threw down the "Art Journal," and turned to confront his
brother, leaning a little forward in his chair. His face was flushed,
his voice took a tone of passion, even his beautiful teeth looked
stern.
"Karl, did you ever try to realize to yourself all the horrors of my
position at Portland!" he asked. "I, a gentleman, with a gentleman's
habits--and a man to whom freedom of will and of limb was as the very,
essence of life--was condemned for ever to a manacled confinement; to
mate with felons; to be pointed at as one of a herd of convict
labourers. A felon myself, you will perhaps say; but I do not
recognize it. Had I been guilty of aught disgraceful? No. What I did,
in shooting that man Scott, I was perfectly justified in doing, after
my solemn warning to him. Remember, it was my wife he insulted that
evening; not simply, as the world was allowed to believe, my young
neighbour, Miss Rose Turner. What should _you_ feel if some low
reprobate seized your wife, Lucy, before your eyes, and pressed his
foul kisses on her innocent face! Your blood would be up, I take it."
"Adam, since I knew she was your wife I have almost held you
justified."
"To go on. Can you realize a _tithe_ of what it was for me on Portland
Island!"
"From the time you went there until I heard of your death, I never
ceased to realize it in my own soul night or day."
"Karl, I believe it. I remember what your sensitively tender nature
always used to be. And we did care for each other, old fellow."
"Ay, and _do_."
"Well, compare that life I escaped from with this that I lead now.
Here I am, so to say, a free man, at perfect liberty within these
small bounds, my wife for my companion, my table at my command, master
on my own estate, the revenues of which I divide with you that you may
be the baronet to the world and keep up Foxwood. As fate has fallen,
Karl, I could not be so happy anywhere as here."
"I know; I know. But it is the risk I fear."
"There must be some risk everywhere."
"Answer me truly--as you would to your own heart, Adam. If by some
miracle you could be transported safely to a far-off land, would you
not feel more secure there than here?"
"Yes. And for Rose's sake I would go if I could; she is just as
apprehensive here as you. But I can't. When Smith says I must not
attempt to get away, he is right. I feel that he is. The man's
interest lies in my safety, and I believe he thinks my safety lies in
my remaining here."
"Just so," said Karl. "Smith is the stumbling-block."
"Well, he holds the reins, you see. It is no use trying to fight
against his opinion: besides, I think he is right. However that may
be, I can't afford to come to a rupture with him. Good heavens, Karl!
fancy his sending me back in irons to Portland! That will never be,
however," added Sir Adam more calmly, "for I would not be taken alive.
I or my capturers should fall."
He put his hand inside his white waistcoat, and showed the end of a
pistol. One he kept close to him night and day, always loaded, always
ready. Karl's arguments failed him, one by one. As he was helpless to
combat the decisions of his wife, so was he helpless here.
And so the interview ended in nothing, just as others had ended.
A black cloud, threatening thunder, had come over the summer's night
when Karl went out. It did not seem to him half so dark as the trouble
at his own heart. He would have given his life freely, to purchase
security for his brother.
END OF VOL. I.
--------------------------------
PRINTING OFFICE OF THE PUBLISHER.
--------------------------------
End of Project Gutenberg's Within the Maze, Vol. 1 (of 2), by Mrs. Henry Wood