A MIDNIGHT ALARM.—THE CHASE.—THE MYSTERY.
Young Ringwood did awaken about two hours afterwards, and the state he
was in, although not such as to create alarm, was not pleasing to Dr.
North. That gentleman desired that he should be carefully watched and
kept quiet, while he went to his own house for some medicines.
He returned as soon as he possibly could, and administered such
remedies as he considered the urgency of the case required, and having,
as he always made a practice of doing, left word at his own house where
he was, he offered to remain at the Grange the whole of the night.
It is scarcely necessary to say, that such an offer was most gratefully
accepted.
Clara was profuse in her acknowledgements of the doctor’s kindness, and
they all passed the evening together in the large dining room, to which
Varney was first introduced.
Not, however, for a long time had so gloomy an evening been passed at
the Grange as that; nobody was in spirits, and although there was a
great deal of conversation, it somehow assumed always a very sombre
shape, let it commence on what subject it might.
Half past ten o’clock was the usual hour at which the family retired
for the night, and it was quite a relief to every one, when that hour
came, and Sir George ordered lights for the bed chambers.
Clara, indeed, being much oppressed, had retired some time before, and
so had Emma, so that there were none but gentlemen in the dining room
at half past ten.
“I have ordered a bed to be prepared for you close to your patient’s,”
said Sir George to Dr. North.
“Oh, thank you, but I shall only lie down in my clothes, a couch
would have done just as well, I am used to sitting up all night upon
occasion.”
“No doubt, but I hope you will not be disturbed, and that
to-morrow-morning we shall have a better account of your patient.”
“I hope so too; a good calm night’s rest may do much.”
“You speak doubtingly.”
“Why in these cases it is difficult to know the extent of injury. There
is no fracture of the skull, but it is as yet impossible to say what
amount of shaking he has had.”
“Well, we can but hope for the best. Mr. Smith, although we retire at
this early hour, there is no sort of occasion for you to do so. Order
what wines you please, and sit as long as you please.”
“By no means, Sir George; I am a great patron of early hours myself.”
Varney was shown into a bed-room which was upon the same floor with
those of the family, and which formed one of a range of chambers, all
opening from a corridor that ran the entire length of the house, and
which in the daytime was lighted by a very large, handsome window at
one end, while at the other was a broad flight of stairs ascending from
the lower part of the house.
The sisters occupied contiguous chambers, and then there was an empty
room, and next to that again was the bed-room in which was Ringwood,
and then Dr. North’s.
Exactly opposite was Varney’s room, and close at hand slept the sons,
while Sir George himself occupied a room at the furthest corner of the
corridor.
Emma made Clara an offer to sleep with her that night, as she was in
grief and anxiety, but this Clara would not permit, for she could not
think of sacrificing her sister’s repose to attend upon her.
“No, Emma,” she said, “I will hope for the best, and strive to rest.”
They bade each other affectionately good night, and shortly afterwards
retired to their separate apartments.
By eleven o’clock all was still in the house.
Dr. North had begged a book from the library, for he thought it likely
enough that he should not be able to get much repose, and with that he
sat in his room, the only one, as he thought, in all the house who was
not in bed.
He continued reading for about an hour, and then, after visiting his
patient, and finding him asleep, he thought it would be just as well
for him to pull off his boots and his coat, and lie down on the bed to
snatch a few hours’ sleep.
He performed all the operations but the final one—the sleeping—for
scarcely had he lain down, when he heard a soft sliding sort of noise
close to the room door, he thought, and he sprung up in a sitting
posture to listen to it.
“Who’s there!” he cried.
There was no answer, and jumping off his bed, he took the light which
he had not put out, and opened his door. All was deserted and still in
the corridor.
“Imagination, or some accidental noise that I am not familiar with,”
said the doctor, as he closed his door again.
Down he laid himself, and he was just upon the point of getting to
sleep, when he heard a scratching sound as he thought upon the very
panel of the door of his room.
Up he sprang again, and this time without the delay of asking who was
there; he opened his door, and looked out into the corridor, holding
the light above his head so as to diffuse its rays as much as possible,
but he saw no one, and all the other doors were close shut.
“A plague take it,” he said, “I may keep myself at this sort of thing
all night, if I am foolish enough. It’s a cat, perhaps, for all I know;
however it may scratch away, I won’t move again.”
Shutting the door, he lay down, now fully determined that he would not
move, unless something very much out of the common way, indeed, should
take place.
Again he started. There was a curious sound about the lock of his door,
and he listened intently.
“Now, what on earth can that be?”
All was still, and he nearly dropped asleep. Twice, however, he thought
he heard the sound again, but he would not move, and in a few moments
more, he was enjoying a sound repose.
How long this repose lasted, he had no means of telling, for he was
suddenly awakened by such a cry, that at first he lay overpowered
completely by it, and unable to move. It was a loud shrieking cry, such
as might come form any one in a most dreadful agony.
“Good Heaven!” he cried, “what’s that?”
Now, Dr. North was not a fearful man, nor a nervous one, and he soon
recovered. Besides, such a cry as that, he knew very well, must have
the effect of arousing everybody in the house, so he sprung out of his
bed, and rushed to the door.
It was fast.
In vain he tried the lock, and hammered at it and pushed. The door was
a thick and a heavy one, and it was quite clear he was a prisoner.
This was serious, and he cried out,—
“Help! help! here, undo the door, undo the door. Who has locked me in?”
He heard the scraping of feet, the sound of voices, the ringing of
bells, and all the symptoms of a suddenly disturbed and alarmed
household, but nobody paid any attention to him. He dragged on his
boots, in order that he might be able to keep up a constant kicking on
the lower part of his door, and he did keep it up with a vengeance.
At length he heard voices close to his door, and some one cried,—
“Open the door, sir, open the door!”
“Open it yourself,” said Dr. North, “you have fastened it on the
outside, I suppose.”
There was some further running about, and then with a crash the door
was forced open with a crowbar, and upon emerging from the apartment,
the doctor found assembled in the corridor the whole family, with the
exception of the two girls, and several servants half-dressed bearing
lights.
“What’s the matter,” cried Sir George, “what’s the matter?”
“Ah,” said the doctor, “that’s what I want to know.”
“Yes, why—why you made all the disturbance.”
“I beg your pardon, there was a scream came from somewhere, and when I
tried to come out to find what it was, my room door was fast. That’s
all I know about it.”
Bang—bang, bang, bang, came now a sound. Bang, bang, bang; and all eyes
were turned in the direction of the chamber occupied by Mr. Smith, and
they heard his voice from within shouting in loud and frightened tones.
“Help! help! is it fire! Open my door, help—help. Do you lock in your
guests here? Help!”
“Why, God bless me,” said Dr. North, “that gentleman is locked in
likewise.”
“But it can’t be,” said Sir George, “for the keys of all these doors
are in the library in a drawer. The fact is, we none of us fasten up
our bed-rooms, and the keys were all removed years ago.”
“Help! help! help!” cried Mr. Smith.
“Break the door open,” said Sir George, “this is inexplicable to me, I
cannot make it out in the least.”
The same crow-bar that had been brought by one of the servants to bear
upon the door of Dr. North’s room, was now applied to that of Mr.
Smith, and it soon yielded to the force of the lever that was used with
strength and judgment.
Mr. Smith partially dressed, and with rather a terrified look, emerged.
“Good God,” he cried, “I wish you wouldn’t lock one in; what has
happened? I heard a shriek that awoke me up, as if the last trumpet had
sounded.”
“My daughters, are they safe,” cried Sir George.
He flew to the door of Clara’s room, it yielded to his touch.
“Clara, Clara,” he called.
“I am paralysed,” said Dr. North, “and so are you, sir. Come in.”
He seized a light from one of the servants, and with a presentiment
that there was to be found a solution of, at all events, the mystery of
the dreadful shriek that had alarmed all the house, he dashed into the
chamber of the young girl, followed by the father.