THE NIGHT ALARM.—A SCENE OF CONFUSION.—MR. BLUE SUSPECTED.
It is midnight, and the landlord of the hotel suddenly springs out of
bed on to the floor as if he had been galvanised, carrying with him all
the bed-clothes and leaving his wife shivering.
“Good gracious! what was that?” he cried.
And well he might, for the repose of the whole house was broken in upon
by two loud shrieks, such as had never before sounded within those
walls, and then all was still as the grave.
“Murder! murder!” shouted the landlady, “somebody has stolen all the
bed-clothes.”
“Bother the bed-clothes” cried the landlord, as he hurried on his
apparel by the dim light of a night lamp that was burning on the
dressing table. “There’s something wrong in the house, or else I have
had one of the strangest dreams that ever anybody had, and one of the
most likely reality too. Did you hear them?”
“Oh, those horrid screams!”
“It’s not a dream then, for two people don’t dream the same thing at
the same moment of time that’s quite clear. Hark—hark! what’s that,
what a banging of doors to be sure. Who’s there? Who’s there? Wait a
bit.”
The landlord lifted the night bolt of his bed room, and then there
dashed into the room in only one garment, which fluttered in the
breeze, no other than the young man who had come with the ladies. He
made but one spring into the landlord’s bed, crying,—
“Oh! take care of me. Oh, save me! There’s thieves or something and I
shall be hurt. Oh, save me, save me, I can’t fight, I never did, spare
my life, oh, spare my life.”
“Oh, the wretch!” shrieked the landlady, and the landlord, justly
enough enraged at that intrusion, seized upon the intruder and shot
him out of the room _vi et armis_, and that with such force too that
he rolled all the way down the stairs, upsetting Sam who was rushing
up with a lantern, it having been his turn to sit up all night, as one
of the establishment always did, in case of fire or anything happening
which might make it necessary to arouse the inmates of the house.
The landlord, however, had completed enough of his toilette to enable
him to make a decent appearance; so out he sallied, having lit a
candle, and the first person he met upon the landing was Mr. Blue,
fully dressed and with a pistol in his hand.
“Good God, sir,” cried the landlord, “what is it all about, what has
happened sir?”
“I cannot tell you, and am as anxious as you can be to know. This way,
this way. It was the young lady who screamed. For God’s sake, lend me a
light!”
The landlord resigned his light mechanically, and he saw to his
surprise, that there was a black patch now over one of Mr. Blue’s eyes,
and he thought his face was painted. At all events, he was so much
disguised that it was only by his voice that the landlord knew him.
Before however, they either of them got across the corridor to the door
of the young lady’s room, Mr. and Mrs. Lake half-dressed, made their
appearance, both eagerly inquiring what was the matter.
“I don’t know,” said the landlord, “I only heard a scream.”
“Which came from the apartment of that young lady,” said Mr. Blue.
“What young lady?” said Mr. Lake sharply. “It’s rather odd that you,
a stranger, should know so precisely which was the apartment of that
young lady. Mrs. Lake go in and see if anything be the matter with
Annetta; I hope to Heaven, nothing is amiss with her.”
Mr. Lake looked suspiciously at Mr. Blue, and so did the landlord,
for when Mr. Blue had spoken in the presence of the Lakes, his voice
was completely altered, so that the landlord no longer could have
recognised him by it, and he was more puzzled than ever.
“Oh! come in, come in, Mr. Lake,” cried Mrs. Lake, appearing at the
door of Annetta’s room, “she is dead.”
“Dead!” cried Mr. Blue with a shout, “Oh! no, no, no!”
He dashed past Mr. Lake, the landlord, and Mrs. Lake, and was in the
room in a moment. They went after him as soon as they had recovered
sufficiently from their surprise to do so, and they saw him with his
hands clasped and bending over the form of the beautiful young girl as
she lay in bed.
“No, no, no,” he said, “she is not dead. She has fainted. God knows
what the cause may be, but she is not dead. Thank Heaven!”
He turned from the bedside, and without saying another word to the
parties present, he walked away to his own room, and left them staring
at each other in surprise. The young lady now opened her eyes, and
looked wildly about her for a few moments, and then she spoke quickly,
“Oh, help! help! help! away, away. Oh, horror—horror—horror!”
“Annetta, my dear Annetta,” said Mrs. Lake, “what is this? Pray, sir,
retire,” to the landlord. “My dear Annetta, what has alarmed you? My
dear, go away, Mr. Lake. I will let you know all about it. It’s a
mystery to me at present. Go away, I’ll be back soon.”
Mr. Lake left the room, and in the corridor he found the landlord, who
was looking as bewildered as any mortal man could well look, for he
could make neither head nor tail of the whole affair.
“Landlord,” said Mr. Lake, “who is that party who behaved so strangely
just now?”
“His name is Blue, sir.”
“Blue—Blue. An odd name, and an odd man. Where can I have seen him
before. Just as he cried out, and went into the room, I thought there
was a something in his voice that came familiarly to my ears, and yet
I don’t know him; I suspect landlord, that he has had more to do with
this midnight disturbance than he would care to own.”
“Well, sir, I don’t know,” said the landlord, whose interest it was not
to disoblige, or throw suspicion upon any of his guests. “It really
ain’t very likely, sir. I should say the young lady has had a bad
dream, sir, and that’s almost all that can be said about it.”
“It may be so.”
“You may depend that’s what it will turn out to be, sir.”
“I hope so, I hope so. These things are not at all pleasant, and
if anything of the kind should happen again we should have to quit
directly, you know, but I can say nothing now about it until I have
heard from Mrs. Lake what account Annetta gives of the affair. That
alone must guide us in the whole business. In the morning we will talk
about it, sir.”
There was a great deal of austerity in the manner of Mr. Lake; indeed
he might well enough be excused for not being over pleased at what had
taken place, and as for Mr. Blue there certainly was sufficient in his
behaviour to induce a large amount of suspicion, that he was in some
way connected with the affair. Moreover the efforts he evidently made
in the way of disguise were extremely suspicious in themselves. He
evidently had a something to conceal, and when the landlord was now
left alone in the corridor, he was strongly induced to make one of his
first acts in the morning a notice to Mr. Blue, that he would much
prefer his room to his company at the London Hotel.
And then it all of a sudden came into the landlord’s head, how poor Mr.
Black must have been distressed at what had taken place; for Sam had
told him what Mr. Black had said about wishing to sleep quietly, so
that he felt quite a pang at the idea of so civil a gentleman having
been so awfully disturbed, as he must have been, and he had no doubt
but that in the morning he would go away.
“I wonder if he is awake?” thought the landlord; “if I could but make
some sort of apology to him to-night, and soothe him, all might be
well. I’ll first go and listen at his door; it may be that he really
wants something, and if so perhaps it would look attentive to knock and
see him; I think I will. It’s quite out of the question that he should
have slept in the middle of all this riot.”
He approached Mr. Black’s door, and listened.
All was still as the very grave.
“What a horrid thing it would be if the shock, in his weak state, has
been the death of him!” thought the landlord, and the very idea made
him quake again.
After a few moments passed in this state of painful thought, he found
that it would be quite out of the question for him to go to his own
room again, without ascertaining how Mr. Black was, and accordingly
he knocked at the door, first gently and then louder, and then louder
still, but received no answer.
“Oh, this won’t do, I must get in somehow,” thought the landlord.
He tried the handle, and found in a moment that the door was not
fast; a light was burning on the side of the table which was close
to the bed, and there lay Mr. Black fast asleep, and looking so calm
and serene, although he was an ugly man, that the landlord was truly
astonished to see him.
“Well,” he said, “that’s what I call sound sleeping, at all events.
It’s a mercy however. Oh lor! he’s going to awake.”
Mr. Black opened his eyes, and looked up.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” said the landlord, “I earnestly beg your
pardon, but as there had been a little noise in the house I came to
see, first, if you had been disturbed, an then if you wanted anything,
sir.”
“No, no, thank you. Has there been a noise, do you say.”
“A—a little, sir.”
“Well, I was fast asleep and did not hear it. However, I do sleep so
sound that I think a cannon going off at my ear would hardly awaken me.
I am much obliged however for your attention, landlord.”
“Can’t I get you anything, sir?”
“Nothing until the morning, thank you.”
“Thank you sir, good night sir, good night.”—“Well,” said the landlord,
as, finding all quiet, he took his way now back to his own room, “well,
he is a gentleman, every inch of him, that he is. How very mild and
polite.—He hasn’t been disturbed, well that’s a comfort.”