"But which way did he go?" I asked again.
"Straight for The Havering yonder," answered Rat, "and like enough he'll
be a-perching on the roof of it."
Then, for the second time that night, a clammy sweat broke out upon my
face. Ammon! The Havering! My father!
"Rat," said I, "I must for home at once."
"Whoy, zur, what's wrong?" he asked.
"Naught, but I must away at once."
"I be afeard thou canst not walk," said he. "Take one more pull at this
fust."
He held the bottle to my lips.
"No, not a drop. Give me a hand up, man, that's all," said I.
He did it, and, staggering to my feet, I stood there swaying for a
moment, giddy and bewildered. Then, when I had mastered this
unsteadiness, I took Dan's hand and said: "You've saved my life, and I
shall not forget it."
The trusty fellow rubbed a sleeve across his mouth but answered nothing;
then his hand went down into his pocket and came forth glittering with
gold.
"See here," said he, with something of a shame-faced look, "I found this
on the grass beside thee. Doubtless he meant to take it with him,
but----"
"Nay," I put in quickly, "'tis not mine. 'Twas his, and now is yours by
right. Therefore keep it."
"What, his?--the--the devil's?"
"Yes; and, look you, if you search the way he fled you will, methinks,
find more of it. That was the falling fire you saw. His pockets bulged
with gold."
So saying, I picked my sword up from the ground, and, leaving Ratlaw
gaping with amazement, sped for home.
How I ran I know not, for my head was singing like a sea-shell, and my
thoughts (if thoughts they could be called) were such a seething medley
as it beats me to describe aright. And thus it came about that, scarce
knowing how (as one but half-awake, that is), I reached The Havering
gates. There I stopped a moment; then, passing through, crept like a
thief into the house, and, having gently closed the door behind me,
listened. All was silent, save for the mournful ticking of the great
hall clock, which in such awful stillness broke on me like a
death-knell.
Pressing both hands upon my throbbing head, I tried to think. My father
might perhaps yet be up there wrestling with his trouble. If so, I must
be ready with that great surprise which could not fail to put his care
to flight.
Filled with this hopeful thought, I lit a candle, brought the Black Box
forth, untied the binding cord, and opened it. Then, with a throttled
cry, I staggered back, as though a blow had struck me. The box was
empty! Ferguson had put the papers in his pocket--not in this; and, in
his hurried flight, had left behind what was to me of no more value than
a stone!
I could have cursed, or wept, or both, at such a bitter mockery as that;
but I did neither. For a moment I stood staring blankly at the gaping
box; then, having taken off my shoes, I seized the faithless thing, and,
stealing silently upstairs, knocked at the study door. No answer came.
I tried the latch. The door was locked. Strange! I had never known my
father lock his door by night, though, to be sure, he sometimes did so
in the day-time when he did not wish to be disturbed. I knocked
again--much louder. Still no answer; then, listening, I heard a
stealthy, creeping noise within. I did not wait a moment longer;
hurling myself upon the door, I drove it crashing inwards.
Even as I thus burst in, the figure of a man shot past me, and,
springing through the open casement, disappeared. Running to the window
I looked forth, and saw the black, satanic form of Tubal Ammon fleeing
down the moonlit garden. I watched him till he vanished like an evil
shadow in the darkness of the trees; then, turning slowly, cast a
fearful glance about the room.
At first I could make nothing out, for the candle had burned down into
its socket, and all was dark; but, as I left the window, a straggling
moonbeam, struggling through the chestnut tree (that fatal chestnut
tree!), fell on a silvery patch above a high-backed chair. Slowly, with
feet of lead, I moved towards it for a step or two, then stopped. My
father sat there, with bowed head, as though he slumbered. What!--had he
slept through such a turmoil?
Shaking from head to foot, I went close up and laid a trembling hand
upon his shoulder--spoke to him. He neither stirred nor answered. Nay,
he would speak no more, for when I took him in my arms I found that he
was dead!
*CHAPTER X*
*I Make a Solemn Vow*
It may be that I am of a different make from other men--I know not; but
in that awful moment, when heaven and earth alike were crashing round
me, and my very life itself seemed rent asunder, I neither grieved nor
wept. It was, indeed, as though a band of steel had forged itself about
my heart and turned me into stone.
If it be hard to have no softened feelings at a time like that, then am
I hard as granite; if it be wicked to be filled with vengeful thoughts
in face of death, then am I wicked as the Evil One himself: for as I
stood there with my father's icy hand in mine (the hand of him who had
been everything to me), one thought, and only one, possessed my
mind--the fierce resolve to be avenged on those who were his murderers,
as truly as was Cain the murderer of Abel.
There was no mark of violence on him, save that his vest had been ripped
open, and the key (that proof which was to win the price of blood!) torn
from its ribbon. He had been dead some time--the brave, albeit weakened
heart had given way at last beneath the strain of threatening danger,
and Tubal Ammon, coming to give death, had found it there before him.
So much I noted, swiftly, clearly, as I stood there in that moonlit room
of death; then, with the sense of having added years, in moments, to my
life, I drew my sword, and holding it above the poor, bowed head, took
one deliberate vow of vengeance.
Even as I did so, heavy hurrying footsteps sounded on the stairs, and
glancing round, I saw a bunch of wondering, awestruck faces staring at
me from the doorway. My crashing entrance had aroused the house, and
here, half-dressed and ghost-like, were the servants.
The very sight of such a gaping, helpless throng stirred wild,
unreasoning anger in a brain which hitherto had felt like lead. I must
have turned upon them with a threatening fierceness, for they one and
all fell backward with a fearful look.
"What now! What do you here?" I said.
"Oh, by the love o' Heaven, sir, what be wrong?" asked Tom, the groom,
who held a flaring candle high above his head.