THE VALET’S STORY.
THE valet had shrunk into the dark corner of the room, and had remained
so motionless that we had forgotten his presence until, upon this appeal
from his former master, he took a step forward into the light, turning
his sallow face in our direction. His usually impassive features were in
a state of painful agitation, and he spoke slowly and with hesitation, as
though his trembling lips could hardly frame the words. And yet, so
strong is habit, that, even in this extremity of emotion he assumed the
deferential air of the high-class valet, and his sentences formed
themselves in the sonorous fashion which had struck my attention upon
that first day when the curricle of my uncle had stopped outside my
father’s door.
“My Lady Avon and gentlemen,” said he, “if I have sinned in this matter,
and I freely confess that I have done so, I only know one way in which I
can atone for it, and that is by making the full and complete confession
which my noble master, Lord Avon, has demanded. I assure you, then, that
what I am about to tell you, surprising as it may seem, is the absolute
and undeniable truth concerning the mysterious death of Captain
Barrington.
“It may seem impossible to you that one in my humble walk of life should
bear a deadly and implacable hatred against a man in the position of
Captain Barrington. You think that the gulf between is too wide. I can
tell you, gentlemen, that the gulf which can be bridged by unlawful love
can be spanned also by an unlawful hatred, and that upon the day when
this young man stole from me all that made my life worth living, I vowed
to Heaven that I should take from him that foul life of his, though the
deed would cover but the tiniest fraction of the debt which he owed me.
I see that you look askance at me, Sir Charles Tregellis, but you should
pray to God, sir, that you may never have the chance of finding out what
you would yourself be capable of in the same position.”
It was a wonder to all of us to see this man’s fiery nature breaking
suddenly through the artificial constraints with which he held it in
check. His short dark hair seemed to bristle upwards, his eyes glowed
with the intensity of his passion, and his face expressed a malignity of
hatred which neither the death of his enemy nor the lapse of years could
mitigate. The demure servant was gone, and there stood in his place a
deep and dangerous man, one who might be an ardent lover or a most
vindictive foe.
“We were about to be married, she and I, when some black chance threw him
across our path. I do not know by what base deceptions he lured her away
from me. I have heard that she was only one of many, and that he was an
adept at the art. It was done before ever I knew the danger, and she was
left with her broken heart and her ruined life to return to that home
into which she had brought disgrace and misery. I only saw her once.
She told me that her seducer had burst out a-laughing when she had
reproached him for his perfidy, and I swore to her that his heart’s blood
should pay me for that laugh.
“I was a valet at the time, but I was not yet in the service of Lord
Avon. I applied for and gained that position with the one idea that it
might give me an opportunity of settling my accounts with his younger
brother. And yet my chance was a terribly long time coming, for many
months had passed before the visit to Cliffe Royal gave me the
opportunity which I longed for by day and dreamed of by night. When it
did come, however, it came in a fashion which was more favourable to my
plans than anything that I had ever ventured to hope for.
“Lord Avon was of opinion that no one but himself knew of the secret
passages in Cliffe Royal. In this he was mistaken. I knew of them—or,
at least, I knew enough of them to serve my purpose. I need not tell you
how, one day, when preparing the chambers for the guests, an accidental
pressure upon part of the fittings caused a panel to gape in the
woodwork, and showed me a narrow opening in the wall. Making my way down
this, I found that another panel led into a larger bedroom beyond. That
was all I knew, but it was all that was needed for my purpose. The
disposal of the rooms had been left in my hands, and I arranged that
Captain Barrington should sleep in the larger and I in the smaller. I
could come upon him when I wished, and no one would be the wiser.
“And then he arrived. How can I describe to you the fever of impatience
in which I lived until the moment should come for which I had waited and
planned. For a night and a day they gambled, and for a night and a day I
counted the minutes which brought me nearer to my man. They might ring
for fresh wine at what hour they liked, they always found me waiting and
ready, so that this young captain hiccoughed out that I was the model of
all valets. My master advised me to go to bed. He had noticed my
flushed cheek and my bright eyes, and he set me down as being in a fever.
So I was, but it was a fever which only one medicine could assuage.
“Then at last, very early in the morning, I heard them push back their
chairs, and I knew that their game had at last come to an end. When I
entered the room to receive my orders, I found that Captain Barrington
had already stumbled off to bed. The others had also retired, and my
master was sitting alone at the table, with his empty bottle and the
scattered cards in front of him. He ordered me angrily to my room, and
this time I obeyed him.
“My first care was to provide myself with a weapon. I knew that if I
were face to face with him I could tear his throat out, but I must so
arrange that the fashion of his death should be a noiseless one. There
was a hunting trophy in the hall, and from it I took a straight heavy
knife which I sharpened upon my boot. Then I stole to my room, and sat
waiting upon the side of my bed. I had made up my mind what I should do.
There would be little satisfaction in killing him if he was not to know
whose hand had struck the blow, or which of his sins it came to avenge.
Could I but bind him and gag him in his drunken sleep, then a prick or
two of my dagger would arouse him to listen to what I had to say to him.
I pictured the look in his eyes as the haze of sleep cleared slowly away
from them, the look of anger turning suddenly to stark horror as he
understood who I was and what I had come for. It would be the supreme
moment of my life.
“I waited as it seemed to me for at least an hour; but I had no watch,
and my impatience was such that I dare say it really was little more than
a quarter of that time. Then I rose, removed my shoes, took my knife,
and having opened the panel, slipped silently through. It was not more
than thirty feet that I had to go, but I went inch by inch, for the old
rotten boards snapped like breaking twigs if a sudden weight was placed
upon them. It was, of course, pitch dark, and very, very slowly I felt
my way along. At last I saw a yellow seam of light glimmering in front
of me, and I knew that it came from the other panel. I was too soon,
then, since he had not extinguished his candles. I had waited many
months, and I could afford to wait another hour, for I did not wish to do
anything precipitately or in a hurry.
“It was very necessary to move silently now, since I was within a few
feet of my man, with only the thin wooden partition between. Age had
warped and cracked the boards, so that when I had at last very stealthily
crept my way as far as the sliding-panel, I found that I could, without
any difficulty, see into the room. Captain Barrington was standing by
the dressing-table with his coat and vest off. A large pile of
sovereigns, and several slips of paper were lying before him, and he was
counting over his gambling gains. His face was flushed, and he was heavy
from want of sleep and from wine. It rejoiced me to see it, for it meant
that his slumber would be deep, and that all would be made easy for me.
“I was still watching him, when of a sudden I saw him start, and a
terrible expression come upon his face. For an instant my heart stood
still, for I feared that he had in some way divined my presence. And
then I heard the voice of my master within. I could not see the door by
which he had entered, nor could I see him where he stood, but I heard all
that he had to say. As I watched the captain’s face flush fiery-red, and
then turn to a livid white as he listened to those bitter words which
told him of his infamy, my revenge was sweeter—far sweeter—than my most
pleasant dreams had ever pictured it. I saw my master approach the
dressing-table, hold the papers in the flame of the candle, throw their
charred ashes into the grate, and sweep the golden pieces into a small
brown canvas bag. Then, as he turned to leave the room, the captain
seized him by the wrist, imploring him, by the memory of their mother, to
have mercy upon him; and I loved my master as I saw him drag his sleeve
from the grasp of the clutching fingers, and leave the stricken wretch
grovelling upon the floor.
“And now I was left with a difficult point to settle, for it was hard for
me to say whether it was better that I should do that which I had come
for, or whether, by holding this man’s guilty secret, I might not have in
my hand a keener and more deadly weapon than my master’s hunting-knife.
I was sure that Lord Avon could not and would not expose him. I knew
your sense of family pride too well, my lord, and I was certain that his
secret was safe in your hands. But I both could and would; and then,
when his life had been blasted, and he had been hounded from his regiment
and from his clubs, it would be time, perhaps, for me to deal in some
other way with him.”
“Ambrose, you are a black villain,” said my uncle.
“We all have our own feelings, Sir Charles; and you will permit me to say
that a serving-man may resent an injury as much as a gentleman, though
the redress of the duel is denied to him. But I am telling you frankly,
at Lord Avon’s request, all that I thought and did upon that night, and I
shall continue to do so, even if I am not fortunate enough to win your
approval.
“When Lord Avon had left him, the captain remained for some time in a
kneeling attitude, with his face sunk upon a chair. Then he rose, and
paced slowly up and down the room, his chin sunk upon his breast. Every
now and then he would pluck at his hair, or shake his clenched hands in
the air; and I saw the moisture glisten upon his brow. For a time I lost
sight of him, and I heard him opening drawer after drawer, as though he
were in search of something. Then he stood over by his dressing-table
again, with his back turned to me. His head was thrown a little back,
and he had both hands up to the collar of his shirt, as though he were
striving to undo it. And then there was a gush as if a ewer had been
upset, and down he sank upon the ground, with his head in the corner,
twisted round at so strange an angle to his shoulders that one glimpse of
it told me that my man was slipping swiftly from the clutch in which I
had fancied that I held him. I slid my panel, and was in the room in an
instant. His eyelids still quivered, and it seemed to me, as my gaze met
his glazing eyes, that I could read both recognition and surprise in
them. I laid my knife upon the floor, and I stretched myself out beside
him, that I might whisper in his ear one or two little things of which I
wished to remind him; but even as I did so, he gave a gasp and was gone.
“It is singular that I, who had never feared him in life, should be
frightened at him now, and yet when I looked at him, and saw that all was
motionless save the creeping stain upon the carpet, I was seized with a
sudden foolish spasm of terror, and, catching up my knife, I fled swiftly
and silently back to my own room, closing the panels behind me. It was
only when I had reached it that I found that in my mad haste I had
carried away, not the hunting-knife which I had taken with me, but the
bloody razor which had dropped from the dead man’s hand. This I
concealed where no one has ever discovered it; but my fears would not
allow me to go back for the other, as I might perhaps have done, had I
foreseen how terribly its presence might tell against my master. And
that, Lady Avon and gentlemen, is an exact and honest account of how
Captain Barrington came by his end.”
“And how was it,” asked my uncle, angrily, “that you have allowed an
innocent man to be persecuted all these years, when a word from you might
have saved him?”
“Because I had every reason to believe, Sir Charles, that that would be
most unwelcome to Lord Avon. How could I tell all this without revealing
the family scandal which he was so anxious to conceal? I confess that at
the beginning I did not tell him what I had seen, and my excuse must be
that he disappeared before I had time to determine what I should do. For
many a year, however—ever since I have been in your service, Sir
Charles—my conscience tormented me, and I swore that if ever I should
find my old master, I should reveal everything to him. The chance of my
overhearing a story told by young Mr. Stone here, which showed me that
some one was using the secret chambers of Cliffe Royal, convinced me that
Lord Avon was in hiding there, and I lost no time in seeking him out and
offering to do him all the justice in my power.”
“What he says is true,” said his master; “but it would have been strange
indeed if I had hesitated to sacrifice a frail life and failing health in
a cause for which I freely surrendered all that youth had to offer. But
new considerations have at last compelled me to alter my resolution. My
son, through ignorance of his true position, was drifting into a course
of life which accorded with his strength and spirit, but not with the
traditions of his house. Again, I reflected that many of those who knew
my brother had passed away, that all the facts need not come out, and
that my death whilst under the suspicion of such a crime would cast a
deeper stain upon our name than the sin which he had so terribly
expiated. For these reasons—”
The tramp of several heavy footsteps reverberating through the old house
broke in suddenly upon Lord Avon’s words. His wan face turned even a
shade greyer as he heard it, and he looked piteously to his wife and son.
“They will arrest me!” he cried. “I must submit to the degradation of an
arrest.”
“This way, Sir James; this way,” said the harsh tones of Sir Lothian Hume
from without.
“I do not need to be shown the way in a house where I have drunk many a
bottle of good claret,” cried a deep voice in reply; and there in the
doorway stood the broad figure of Squire Ovington in his buckskins and
top-boots, a riding-crop in his hand. Sir Lothian Hume was at his elbow,
and I saw the faces of two country constables peeping over his shoulders.
“Lord Avon,” said the squire, “as a magistrate of the county of Sussex,
it is my duty to tell you that a warrant is held against you for the
wilful murder of your brother, Captain Barrington, in the year 1786.”
“I am ready to answer the charge.”
“This I tell you as a magistrate. But as a man, and the Squire of
Rougham Grange, I’m right glad to see you, Ned, and here’s my hand on it,
and never will I believe that a good Tory like yourself, and a man who
could show his horse’s tail to any field in the whole Down county, would
ever be capable of so vile an act.”
“You do me justice, James,” said Lord Avon, clasping the broad, brown
hand which the country squire had held out to him. “I am as innocent as
you are; and I can prove it.”
“Damned glad I am to hear it, Ned! That is to say, Lord Avon, that any
defence which you may have to make will be decided upon by your peers and
by the laws of your country.”
“Until which time,” added Sir Lothian Hume, “a stout door and a good lock
will be the best guarantee that Lord Avon will be there when called for.”
The squire’s weather-stained face flushed to a deeper red as he turned
upon the Londoner.
“Are you the magistrate of a county, sir?”
“I have not the honour, Sir James.”
“Then how dare you advise a man who has sat on the bench for nigh twenty
years! When I am in doubt, sir, the law provides me with a clerk with
whom I may confer, and I ask no other assistance.”
“You take too high a tone in this matter, Sir James. I am not accustomed
to be taken to task so sharply.”
“Nor am I accustomed, sir, to be interfered with in my official duties.
I speak as a magistrate, Sir Lothian, but I am always ready to sustain my
opinions as a man.”
Sir Lothian bowed.
“You will allow me to observe, sir, that I have personal interests of the
highest importance involved in this matter, I have every reason to
believe that there is a conspiracy afoot which will affect my position as
heir to Lord Avon’s titles and estates. I desire his safe custody in
order that this matter may be cleared up, and I call upon you, as a
magistrate, to execute your warrant.”
“Plague take it, Ned!” cried the squire, “I would that my clerk Johnson
were here, for I would deal as kindly by you as the law allows; and yet I
am, as you hear, called upon to secure your person.”
“Permit me to suggest, sir,” said my uncle, “that so long as he is under
the personal supervision of the magistrate, he may be said to be under
the care of the law, and that this condition will be fulfilled if he is
under the roof of Rougham Grange.”
“Nothing could be better,” cried the squire, heartily. “You will stay
with me, Ned, until this matter blows over. In other words, Lord Avon, I
make myself responsible, as the representative of the law, that you are
held in safe custody until your person may be required of me.”
“Yours is a true heart, James.”
“Tut, tut! it is the due process of the law. I trust, Sir Lothian Hume,
that you find nothing to object to in it?”
Sir Lothian shrugged his shoulders, and looked blackly at the magistrate.
Then he turned to my uncle.
“There is a small matter still open between us,” said he. “Would you
kindly give me the name of a friend? Mr. Corcoran, who is outside in my
barouche, would act for me, and we might meet to-morrow morning.”
“With pleasure,” answered my uncle. “I dare say your father would act
for me, nephew? Your friend may call upon Lieutenant Stone, of Friar’s
Oak, and the sooner the better.”
And so this strange conference ended. As for me, I had sprung to the
side of the old friend of my boyhood, and was trying to tell him my joy
at his good fortune, and listening to his assurance that nothing that
could ever befall him could weaken the love that he bore me. My uncle
touched me on the shoulder, and we were about to leave, when Ambrose,
whose bronze mask had been drawn down once more over his fiery passions,
came demurely towards him.
“Beg your pardon, Sir Charles,” said he; “but it shocks me very much to
see your cravat.”
“You are right, Ambrose,” my uncle answered. “Lorimer does his best, but
I have never been able to fill your place.”
“I should be proud to serve you, sir; but you must acknowledge that Lord
Avon has the prior claim. If he will release me—”
“You may go, Ambrose; you may go!” cried Lord Avon. “You are an
excellent servant, but your presence has become painful to me.”
“Thank you, Ned,” said my uncle. “But you must not leave me so suddenly
again, Ambrose.”
“Permit me to explain the reason, sir. I had determined to give you
notice when we reached Brighton; but as we drove from the village that
day, I caught a glimpse of a lady passing in a phaeton between whom and
Lord Avon I was well aware there was a close intimacy, although I was not
certain that she was actually his wife. Her presence there confirmed me
in my opinion that he was in hiding at Cliffe Royal, and I dropped from
your curricle and followed her at once, in order to lay the matter before
her, and explain how very necessary it was that Lord Avon should see me.”
“Well, I forgive you for your desertion, Ambrose,” said my uncle; “and,”
he added, “I should be vastly obliged to you if you would re-arrange my
tie.”