"O Moore," I said to myself, "you are _very_ naughty. It is really too
bad. How I do wish I had been guided by Jocelyn's advice!" and feeling
decidedly angry as well as frightened--the one sensation seeming to
increase instead of lessening the other--I hurried on.
My destination, I need scarcely say, was the door in the wall, and all
the way thither I kept straining my eyes in the vain hope of seeing the
boy's figure emerging from the gathering gloom and coming to meet me.
But no--I knew my point very accurately by now, and soon relaxed my
pace, knowing that the door must be near at hand. And all the way from
the Manor-house I had not met one living soul.
"It is a very lonely place," I thought, with a little shiver of
nervousness. "None of the roads near home are as deserted. I don't
think I should like to live all the year round in the North."
Then a new fear struck me. What if the door should be locked--should
have been locked after Moore had entered the grounds? for that he had
done so I had no manner of doubt. What if that were the explanation of
his non-appearance? What _could_ I do?
But I did not allow myself to dwell on this cruel possibility, and in
another moment it was set aside. I found the door, and it was unclosed!
Half my distress seemed to vanish with this discovery, though I grew
more and more angry with my brother. Once inside, I stood still to
consider, but not for long.
"He is sure to have gone to the left," I said to myself. "All his
curiosity was to peep into the house again, and he could only do so
through the _tonnelle_ and the long glass house;" so I crept along in
the direction I decided upon, keeping close to the wall, between it and
the shrubs which bordered it, as I have described, though it was now so
dusky that my extreme precaution was scarcely called for. And before
long I came to the passage between trees and bushes which we had lighted
upon the last time.
It was not quite so dark here, for the real entrance to the _tonnelle_
was a fairly wide one at the side, and I could still clearly see the
glazed door at the other end. I stood still, gazing before me--then
taking courage I advanced a few steps, still keeping my eyes fixed on
the door through which I seemed to feel by instinct that the truant
would make his way out. And I was not disappointed. As I approached
the conservatory pretty closely, the door moved, softly and noiselessly.
I would scarcely have noticed its doing so but for the faint glimmer of
light on the glass panes of its upper part. And, peering cautiously to
right and left, then gazing straight before him, stood the naughty boy!
It took all my self-command to repress an exclamation, but I did so,
only whispering--and in the silence, unbroken save for the drip of the
still rain-laden leaves, even a whisper sounded portentously
audible--"Moore, come at once. Don't you see me?"
See me! Of course he did. His eyes as well as his ears were as sharp
as a Red Indian's--I can't find a better comparison--and a smile,
half-triumphant, half-impish, broke over his face as he looked at me.
He nodded reassuringly, and I think he was just going to speak, when
suddenly, in the flash of a lightning gleam, it seemed to me, his whole
expression changed. The smile vanished, a look almost of terror came
over his face; he made a frantic gesture to me, which I interpreted
rightly enough to mean, "get out of the way; hide yourself," and
disappeared as completely as if he had not been there at all.
For half a second I stood, dazed and completely bewildered--rubbing my
eyes to make sure that I _had_ seen him, that the whole thing had not
been an extraordinary optical delusion, born of my nervous anxiety, or--
worse still--could it have been not Moore himself, but his ghost that I
had seen? After all, what might not have happened to him in that
mysterious secret house? There _was_ something abnormal about it, or
rather about the lives of its inhabitants. Why, oh why had I told the
boy anything about it, I thought with momentary anguish. But another
instant reassured me as to this last foolish terror. It _was_ Moore
himself--he had smiled in the mischievous way he sometimes did. How
grateful I felt for that smile!
All these thoughts, as will readily be understood by those who have gone
through similar crises, had flashed across my mind in far less time than
it takes to write them.
The reason for Moore's alarm and sudden gesture of warning to me was
still a mystery, when, as I stood motionless, awaiting I knew not what,
there reached my ears a sound which, from where he was, he had become
aware of some moments before--it was that of measured footsteps, slowly
advancing from the inner end of the long conservatory. And then I
realised my situation, and the necessity for effacing myself. I glanced
around me. Moore had evidently taken refuge behind some of the plants
inside, but I dared not follow him. Probably enough, there would only
have been room to conceal one of us in the corner he had descried; for
all I knew, he might be stretched on the ground at full length; a boy of
his size is at great advantage in such a quandary, and Moore was not one
to stick at much, at a pinch. No, less than an instant's reflection
satisfied me that I must remain out of doors, and I pressed my way
behind the greenery, at the part which appeared to me the thickest.
"There is not much fear of him or them"--for it seemed to me that the
footsteps were those of more than one person, though accompanied by the
tap of the crutch that I had heard on a previous occasion--"coming out,"
I thought. "It is getting chilly, and the cripple Mr Grey is very
delicate." And I breathed a little more freely once I felt myself
screened among the bushes; fortunately, too, my dress was dark.
Still my heart beat very much faster than usual as I heard the steps
coming nearer and nearer. By peeping out cautiously I could see two
figures at last, as they reached the open glass door and stood there.
They were those of the brothers. How I prayed that they might remain
where they were; but such was not to be the case. They halted for a
moment or two on the threshold, as if undecided whether to turn or walk
on, then, to my unspeakable consternation, they passed out along the
_tonnelle_ past the very spot which I had only just quitted a moment or
two before! Instinctively I drew myself together as if to grow as small
as possible, scarcely daring to breathe for fear of being heard.
But they were talking, as I soon perceived, and to my further
satisfaction, in absorbed though low tones--so absorbed that I question
if any little unusual sound would have caught their attention, and after
all, some slight rustling among the dripping leaves would have explained
any disturbance I might involuntarily have caused.
My ears, however, were terribly on the alert, whatever theirs were not.
I was in an agony lest Moore should betray his whereabouts. My fears
for him and myself had completely swamped my curiosity. So it will be
believed that I had no wish to overhear what the newcomers were saying.
I would have stopped my ears if I had dared to do so, though, ashamed as
I was of our position, I do not think it struck me in any very acute way
at the time that I was forced into playing the part of an eavesdropper.
And I really do not believe that in my intense engrossment I would have
noticed the words that fell from the brothers, but for a peculiar
circumstance--that of the mention of our own name!
One's own name, it is said, always catches one's attention more readily
than any other word.
"Fitzmaurice," I heard the younger brother say, as if repeating it
thoughtfully, though not in any tone of surprise. "Oh yes, I agree with
you, but--"
"I know what you are going to say," interrupted the elder, "but don't
say it. I sometimes almost regret having told even you my conviction
that Ernest Fitzmaurice is the _only_ chance of my rehabilitation. I
would not of course--I would die sooner than have had the girls"
(afterwards the pathos of his thus speaking of the two poor faded little
old maids, whom he could not disassociate from what then must have been
a quarter of a century ago, struck me pitifully) "suspect my suspicion,
my _conviction_, I may say. And nothing, Caryll, nothing would ever
make me breathe it except to you."
The cripple sighed a deep sigh.
"I understand," he said, "and sympathise, especially as the chance of
its being any use is so small, so very small."
"That young fellow," resumed the elder Mr Grey, "is clever and
well-meaning; acute in a remarkable degree, to have discovered that I
_have_ a secret on the subject even from his father. But the discussion
tortures me, Caryll--yes, tortures me. I _would_ not take any steps in
that quarter. He must surely understand now that his persistence is
useless, worse than useless."
"I think he does," replied the other simply.
"And after all," he repeated half dreamily, "it is the smallest of
chances. He may be dead, or undiscoverable. If what we have been
talking of were the case, _he_ would of course have the strongest
motives for keeping out of the way."
"I am not so sure of that," said the elder Mr Grey, after a moment's
pause. "You forget that no one _dreamt_ of such a thing but myself. He
kept perfectly clear. No, he may even be a prominent person by now, for
all I know, in one of the colonies--I forget which he was bound for.
But one thing is certain, the man who could do what I believe he did,
and act with such fearful hypocrisy, must have slain his conscience long
ago. There would be no use in tracing him, and even if there were--no!
I do not think I could bring upon another, above all for Jessie's sake I
could not, what I have gone through myself."
This was all I heard distinctly. I do not imagine either of them spoke
again for some moments, and by that time they were back close to the
conservatory, which they entered, the elder brother closing the door
after him. I took this to be a sign that they were not coming out any
more.
I cannot of course, at this distance of time, vouch for the perfect
accuracy of the words I have quoted, but the sense of it is exact. I
was in a state of nervous tension, in which my hearing was almost
abnormally quick; then the mention of our own surname had of course
startled me into even closer attention, and through all, my original
curiosity was still in existence, though to some extent it had become
dormant. So when the time came for the question to arise as to whether
I was justified in making use of my unintentional eavesdropping, I felt
no misgiving as to my capability of reporting it correctly.
But for the moment, as soon as the brothers had disappeared, everything
in my mind gave way to the intense wish to make our escape. Would Moore
come out? Must I summon him, or should I leave him to his fate and save
myself?--for to me, as a lady, the whole situation was far more grave
than for a mischievous schoolboy like my brother. I was revolving these
alternatives in my mind when my perplexity was set at rest by the glass
door opening cautiously, and Moore's face, somewhat paler than usual and
portentously solemn, peering out. I pushed through the bushes so that
he could see me, and said his name in the faintest of whispers. He
heard me, and was beside me in a moment, not forgetting, however--I must
say the boy had plenty of presence of mind--to close the door behind
him. I did not speak--I was too angry to have done so in measured
tones--so I said nothing, only grasping him by the arm to make sure of
no evasion, as the two of us rushed down the _tonnelle_, till,
breathless, I pulled up for a moment or two once I felt ourselves,
comparatively speaking, safe, close against the wall and behind the
shelter of the bushes bordering it.
Then I really could not contain myself, though I had _intended_ to keep
silence until we were outside the grounds.
"Moore," I burst out, "how _could_ you? Breaking your promise and
terrifying me, and, and--"
I could scarcely speak. I was on the point of tears, which under the
circumstances I should have felt peculiarly humiliating.
The boy was distressed, and in reality, I think, not a little
frightened. But he held his ground, nevertheless.
"No, Reggie," he replied, "you must not say I broke my word. I promised
I would do nothing without letting you know. And I did let you know
that I had not given it up, and that I meant to do more; you dared me
to, you know you did, and I called after you, `you shall see if I find
out nothing,' and you only laughed."
"I call that a mean quibble," I replied indignantly, though in my heart
I felt that I had been wildly injudicious. "You did not tell me where
you were going this evening before you came out."
"No," he replied, "I had not decided that I would come--word of honour,
Reggie. And I am very sorry that I stayed so long--but--it was so
tempting. I got in so easily, and everything seemed to favour it,
and--"
"Moore," I exclaimed, "did you really go into the house? I am ashamed
of you. It wasn't like a gentleman;" and indeed I felt aghast.
"Only into that first room," he replied deprecatingly. "I did so want
to see what was behind that black curtain, though--you were right,
Reggie--it isn't black, only very dark red."
"And what _was_ behind it?" I could not help asking.
"Something very queer," he answered eagerly, delighted to find that my
curiosity was still in existence, "ropes and pulleys, horrid looking
things. They reminded me of the Inquisition."
"I dare say it is only a shower-bath," I replied, "No, no, I thought of
that. I am sure it isn't," he exclaimed. "I--" but here I stopped him.
"Moore," I interrupted, "we are mad to stand chattering here. Any
moment some one may pass and hear us. Wait till we are safely outside
the door."
He made no objection, and we hurried on as fast as the small space
before us made it possible, and we reached the door without further ado.
With no misgiving I seized the handle--for there was a handle--to pull
it open, when--never shall I forget my horror!--it resisted me.
The door was locked!