I came down-stairs the next morning dressed in my best brown cashmere.
I had a neat white frill round my throat, and my hair was dressed with
attention. I looked smart for me, and I felt certain that George would
notice this fact, and begin to make himself disagreeable. The meal that
morning was particularly appetising. I myself had seen to this. I had
supplemented our inefficient maid-of-all-work's efforts. I had boiled
the porridge myself, and took care that it was thick, but not too thick,
and that it was smooth in substance and admirably done. I had also made
the toast; and that delicate brown toast, crisp and thin, was certain to
meet with my somewhat fastidious father's approval. The coffee, too,
was strong, and the milk which was to add to its flavour was thoroughly
well boiled. While my father drank his fragrant coffee, and munched
that thin crisp toast, good humour sat upon his brow, his deep-set and
somewhat fierce eyes glanced at me complacently. He made a remark which
I was almost certain he would make--
"It is a good thing to have you back again, Rose. I do not need you to
tell me, but I am quite certain that we do not owe this breakfast to
Bridget."
"Yes," suddenly responded George; "it's always well to have a capable
woman in the house. You are staying at home of course to-day,
Rosamund--the right place for you too. I am sure, sir, you must agree
with me," continued George, glancing at my father, "when I say that
young women have no business to spend their time gadding about."
"Much you know about young women," answered my father. He was about to
continue, when I suddenly interrupted.
"And I am going to town this morning," I said, in my meekest voice, "and
father knows all about it, and he has given me leave."
"Tut! I am not so sure of that," said my father, with a frown.
"I hope, sir, you will once for all forbid Rose to spend her time in
this thoroughly unprofitable, not to say extravagant and improper
manner," said George, his face turning crimson.
"It is not your place to interfere," said my father.
"And if _you_ give me leave, I may go, may I not, father? You said last
night I need not obey George."
"Most certainly you need not. George, stop that hectoring."
My father stamped his foot vehemently. George dropped his eyes on to
his plate, and I ate my breakfast feeling that my cause was won.
"Rose," said my mother, when the meal was over, calling me into the
drawing-room as she spoke, "are you really going back to London to-day?"
"I must, mother darling."
"My dear child, your present strange proceedings agitate me a good
deal."
"Dearest mother! you shall know everything as soon as ever I can tell
you. Perhaps to-night you shall know all."
My mother sighed. "And where is the good of vexing George?" she
continued.
"George shall not stand between us and--and happiness," I said with
vehemence. "Mother, it is impossible for me to explain. I shall, I
must, I _will_ go to London to-day. Mother darling, you won't blame me
when I tell you everything by and by."
"I never blame you, Rosamund," said my mother; "you are the great
comfort of my life. How could I possibly find fault with you, my dear,
dear daughter?"
She kissed me as she spoke.
I ran up-stairs for my hat and jacket, and as my father was putting on
his great-coat in the hall, I tripped up to him, equipped for my little
expedition.
"So you are coming, Rosamund?" he said. "Yes, of course," I replied,
"if only to show that George is not to lay down the law to you."
Oh! how double I felt as I said this. I hated myself. I blushed and
fidgeted. It is a most uncomfortable sensation to fall a peg or two in
your own estimation. It ruffles the nerves in the most extraordinary
manner. As I walked to the station, leaning on my father's arm, I kept
saying to myself, "Rosamund, you are a detestable, double-minded,
deceitful girl. You must do penance for this. You must be punished by
yourself--by the better part of yourself, Rosamund Lindley. Some day,
Rosamund, you will have to confess your real motives to your father.
You must let him know what a low, double sort of a creature he has got
for a daughter."
George did not speak at all during our journey up to town, but my father
was quite chatty and confidential with me. He even confided some fears,
much to my surprise, which he entertained with regard to my dear
mother's health.
"Your mother ought never to spend her winters in England," he said.
"She has always been fragile; she grows more fragile every year; she
ought to winter abroad--in the Riviera, or some other dry and sheltered
place."
He spoke quite kindly, with real anxiety in his voice. I never loved
him so well. We parted the best of friends at Paddington, and I went
off to Mr Gray's office, secured my bag of keys, and before ten o'clock
that day found myself once again in Cousin Geoffrey's house, with many
long hours before me to spend as I thought fit. I went up to the
octagon room, and spent the whole of that long day arranging and sorting
those dreary bundles of keys. I had made up my mind that I would not
commence my task of examination until each key fitted each lock. I was
firmly convinced that if I did not use method I should effect nothing.
I was aware that the task before me was one of great difficulty. I
would not add to it by any irregularity with regard to my method of
search. Methodical work is always more or less successful, and as the
day wore on I fitted key after key into the locks they were meant to
open. My spirits rose as my work proceeded, and I felt almost sure that
I might commence my search in good earnest to-morrow.
The light was beginning to fade, and I was thinking of putting my
nicely-sorted keys away and retiring from my hard day's work, when I
heard steps on the deserted stairs, the murmur of voices--several
voices, one of them high and sweet, the others low and deep in tone,
evidently proceeding from men's throats.
The sounds approached nearer and nearer, and a moment afterwards the
door of the octagon room was opened, and Drake, accompanied by three
people, entered. In this dark room, which, with all its beauty, never
admitted the uninterrupted light of day, it was difficult for me at
first to recognise the people who so suddenly invaded my solitude. But
the clear, high voice was familiar, and when an eager figure ran across
the room, and two hands clasped mine, and a fervent kiss was implanted
on my somewhat dusty forehead, I did not need to look again to be quite
sure that Lady Ursula Redmayne stood before me.
"Here I am, Rosamund. Whether welcome or not, I am here once more.
Ursula, the impetuous, comes to visit Rosamund, the mysterious. Now, my
dear, what are you doing? and have you no word of greeting for me, your
real friend, and for your cousin, for he is your cousin, Rupert
Valentine? Have you no word of affectionate greeting, Rosamund?"
I stammered and blushed. I was not very glad to see Lady Ursula
Redmayne. At this moment her presence confused me. I avoided looking
at Captain Valentine, and wondered quickly what he must think of my
present very remarkable occupation.
"How do you do?" I said, not returning her kiss, but trying hard to
seem pleased; "how do you do, Captain Valentine? I won't shake hands
with you because my hands are very, very dirty."
"And why are they dirty, Rose?" asked Lady Ursula, her merry eyes
twinkling. "A lady should never have dirty hands. Oh, fie! Rose; I am
shocked at you. I will only forgive you on one condition--that you tell
me what you are doing here."
"Nothing wrong," I replied; "but Mr Gray knows. You had better ask Mr
Gray."
"Don't worry her, Ursula," said Captain Valentine. "Miss Lindley has a
perfect right to employ her time as she pleases. You remember, Miss
Lindley, the last time I had the pleasure of meeting you, how we
established a sort of cousinship. I believe we are undoubtedly cousins.
May I therefore have the pleasure of introducing to you another
relative--my brother Tom?"
Mr Tom Valentine now came forward. He was a little shorter than his
brother, broader set, with a good-humoured and kind face.
(Forgive me, Tom, if at that moment I saw nothing more in your face.)
He shook hands with me kindly, said a word or two about being glad to
meet a relative, and then began to examine the curious room for himself
with much interest.
"But what are you doing here?" said the irrepressible Lady Ursula; "and
oh! Rupert, do look at these keys. Fancy our methodical Rose arranging
these keys in bunches, and labelling them. Oh! what a model of neatness
you are, Rose! What a housewife you would make!"
"Don't worry her, Ursula," said Captain Valentine again. Then he added,
turning to me: "The fact is, my brother Tom and I are very much
interested in this old house. Tom is my eldest brother, Miss Lindley.
He is a great traveller--a sort of lion in his way. You must get him at
some propitious moment to tell you all about his many adventures. He
has met the savages face to face. He has been through the heart of
darkest Africa. He has fought with wild beasts. Oh, yes! Tom, you
need not blush."
"Who would suppose you could blush, Tom?" said his future sister-in-law,
patting him familiarly on his shoulder. "I should imagine that swarthy
skin of yours too dark to show a blush."
"I hate making myself out a hero," said Tom Valentine in his gruff
voice. "Do stop chaffing, Rupert, and let us tell Miss Lindley why we
have come here."
"Curiosity," said Captain Valentine; "curiosity has brought us. I told
Tom last night about Cousin Geoffrey Rutherford's death, and about the
curious will he had made. Tom and I spent many happy months in this old
house; long, long, long ago, Miss Lindley. I told Tom last night the
story of your ruby ring. Altogether I excited his curiosity to an
enormous extent; and he said he himself would like to have a search for
the missing document. May I ask you a blunt question, Miss Lindley?
Are you looking for it now?"
I hesitated for a moment. I felt my face turning white; then raising my
eyes, I said, steadily, "I am."
As I uttered these words I encountered the direct and full gaze of my
new cousin, the bearded and bronzed traveller, Tom Valentine. If ever
there were honest eyes in the world they dwelt in Tom's rather plain
face. They looked straight into mine as I uttered these words, and I
read approval in their glance.
"Yes, I am looking for the will," I said, encouraged by the glance Tom
had given me.
"I may never find it; but I am not without a clue. Look here!" I
added, suddenly, "I will confide in you all. Two of you are cousins,
the other is, I am sure, my true friend. Look at my ruby ring." I held
up my hand--my dirty hand. I pulled the ring off my third finger. "You
know the secret of the ring," I said to Rupert Valentine. "Open it
carefully; let it show its secret chamber. You thought that secret
chamber revealed nothing; that it was empty and without its secret. You
were mistaken. Look again, but carefully--very carefully."
I was so excited that I absolutely forgot that I was addressing my words
to three comparative strangers. I gave the ring back to Captain
Valentine.
"Be very, very careful," I repeated.
He looked at me gravely, took the ring over to the light, motioned to
his brother to follow him, and touched the spring. The central ruby
revolved out of its place, the serpents' heads opened wide their doors,
and the little chamber inside the ring was once more visible.
"Raise that white paper," I said; "there is writing under it."
"Rosamund, you shake all over," said Lady Ursula.