LOST.
The morning subsequent to Sir Massingberd's visit to the Rectory was
bright, but intensely cold. I was very particular about my shaving in
those days, and would not have dispensed with that manly exercise upon
any account; but I remember that the frost made it a difficult process.
In the course of the ceremony, Mrs. Myrtle, who was a very privileged
person, knocked softly at my door. A visit from her at such a time was
unusual, but not unprecedented. I said, "Pray, come in." My attire was
tolerably complete, and perhaps I was not indisposed to let people know
what tremendous difficulties were entailed upon a gentleman by the
possession of an obstinate beard. I was not prepared for her closing the
door behind her, sinking into the nearest chair, and fanning herself, as
though it had been midsummer, with her outspread fingers. I looked at
her with a face all soap-suds and astonishment.
"My dear Mrs. Myrtle, what is the matter?"
"Oh, don't ask me, Master Peter," cried she, although she had come for
no other purpose than to be cross-questioned. "Oh, pray, don't, for it's
more nor I can bear. Dearey me, if I ain't all of a twitter!"
"Nothing the matter with your master," said I, "surely? I saw him out of
the window a little while ago on the lawn, talking to one of the
under-keepers of the Hall."
"I dare say you did, sir," quoth Mrs. Myrtle, with one of those
aggravated shudders which are generally produced by the anticipation of
senna and salts. "No, master's all well, thank Heaven."
"No bad news from Harley Street?" exclaimed I, laying down my razor in a
tremor. "I trust Miss...--I mean that Mr. Marmaduke is as he should be."
"For all that I know to the contrary, he is, sir," returned the
housekeeper; "and likewise all _friends_" Mrs. Myrtle laid such an
accent upon "friends" that my mind naturally rushed to the opposite.
"You don't mean to say," said I, "that anything has happened to Sir
Massingberd?"
Mrs. Myrtle had no voice to speak, but she nodded a number of times in
compensation.
"Is he DEAD?" asked I, very solemnly, for it was terrible to think of
sudden death in connection with that abandoned man.
"Wus than dead, sir," returned the housekeeper; "many times wus than
dead; Heaven forgive me for saying so. Sir Massingberd is LOST."
"Lost!" repeated I; "how? where?"
"There is only One knows that, Master Peter; but the Squire is not at
the Hall, that's certain; he never returned there last night, after he
had gone his rounds in the preserves. He spoke with Bradford and two
more of the keepers, and bade them keep a good look-out as usual; but he
did not come to the watchers in the Home Plantation. He never got so
near the house as that; nobody saw him since midnight. Gilmore put out
his cigars and spirits as usual for him in his room; but they are
untouched. The front-door was not fastened on the inside; Sir
Massingberd never came in."
Here I heard Mr. Long calling upon the stairs in a voice very different
from his customary cheerful tones, for Mrs. Myrtle.
"Mercy me, I wonder whether there's anything new!" cried she, rising
with great alacrity. "As soon as I knows it, you shall know it, Master
Peter;" with which generous promise she hurried from the room.
After this intelligence, shaving became an impossibility, and I hurried
down as soon as I could into the breakfast-room. My tutor was standing
at the window very thoughtful, and though he greeted me with his usual
hilarity, it struck me that it was a little forced.
"Why, you are early this morning, Peter; and how profusely you have
illustrated yourself with cuts; it is sad to see one so young with such
a shaky hand. One would think you were one of the five-bottle-men, like
Sir--like Lord Stowell."
He had been about to say "Sir Massingberd," I knew, and would on
ordinary occasions not have hesitated to do so.
"De perditis nil nisi bonum?" quoth I inquiringly.
"Oh, so you have heard of this nine hours' wonder, have you?" returned
my tutor. "Because our neighbour has chosen to leave home for a little,
on some private business best known to himself, everybody will have it
that he is Lost."
"But it does seem very extraordinary too," said I, "does it not? He has
never done so before, has he?"
"Not in all the years he has lived in Fairburn," returned my tutor
musingly.
"And he made no preparations, I suppose, for departure, did he? Took no
clothes with him?"
"Nothing, nothing," interrupted Mr. Long, pacing the room to and fro,
with his hand to his forehead. "But he had money, you know; he was eager
to get that money yesterday."
"Then he would probably have hired a vehicle," urged I; "Sir Massingberd
is not the man to use his own legs, beyond the limit, that is, of his
own lands. You have heard him say that he would never be seen on the
road without four horses."
Mr. Long continued his walk without reply, but I thought I perceived
that he was not unwilling to have the subject discussed. He seemed to be
eager to take as light a view of the matter as possible, although like
one who contends against his own more sombre convictions. I, on the
contrary, had that leaning towards the gloomy and mysterious not
uncommon with young persons, and both imagined the worst, and
endeavoured to picture it.
"He went out after the poachers did he not?" said I.
"Yes, as usual," replied my tutor; "he has done it before, scores of
times."
"The pitcher goes often to the well, but is broken at last," returned I.
"I should not be surprised if the wretched man has been murdered by some
of those against whom he waged such unceasing war."
"Then if so, he must have been shot, Peter," returned the rector
hastily: "without firearms, it would have been hard to dispose of the
gigantic baronet, armed as he doubtless was with his life-preserver. Now
no gun has been heard to go off by any one, although it was thought that
Sir Massingberd expected some raid to be made last night, by the
gipsies or others; at all events, he seemed more alert than usual,
Oliver tells me."
The gipsies! My heart sank within me, as I thought of Rachel Liversedge
consumed with the wrongs of her "little sister;" and of the young man,
relative of that unhappy Carew whose life had been sworn away through
the Squire's machinations. I had seen nothing of them since my memorable
interview, but it was like enough that the tribe were yet in the
neighbourhood. True, they had waited so long for vengeance, that it was
not probable they should have set about it at this time; but if Sir
Massingberd had really come across them alone, while they were
committing a depredation, violence might easily enough have ensued; and
if violence, murder. I was very glad that Mrs. Myrtle came in at this
juncture with the eggs and buttered toast, and concealed my
embarrassment.
"No news, sir," said she lugubriously, as she placed the delicacies upon
the table. "The last words were, 'Nothing has been heard of him.'" The
housekeeper had established a system of communication by help of her
kitchen-maid and the stable-lad at the Hall, whereby she received
bulletins, every quarter of an hour or so, with respect to Sir
Massingberd's mysterious disappearance.
"Well, no news is good news, you know," responded Mr. Long gaily. "We
should always look upon the bright side of things, Mrs. Myrtle."
"Yes, sir; but when a thing ain't got a bright side," remarked the
housekeeper, shaking her head. "Why, it's dreadful now he's Lost; and it
would be dreadful even if, after all, he was al----"
"Hush, hush, Mrs. Myrtle; you don't know but you may be speaking of a
poor soul that is gone to his account. Sir Massingberd is doubtless a
bad man; but let us not call it dreadful if he should be permitted to
return among us, and have some time yet, it may be, to repent in."
"Then you think he's dead and gone, do you, sir? Well, that's what I
think, and that's what Patty thinks too, and she's a very reasonable
girl. 'Them ravens,' says she to me, 'didn't come to that church-tower
for nothing;' and though, of course, I told her to hold her tongue, and
not talk folly like that, there was a good deal in what she said. Why,
we have not had ravens here since Sir Wentworth came to his awful end in
London; there was a mystery about that too, wasn't there, sir?
Lawk-a-mercy! Mr. Meredith, you gave me quite a turn."
I had only said "Look there!" and pointed to the window, through which
Gilmore and the head-keeper were seen approaching the Rectory, and
engaged in close conversation.
"I'll go with Patty, and let them in," quoth Mrs. Myrtle, unconsciously
betraying that she was unequal to opening the door alone, in such an
emergency. It is probable that, when it was opened, the incomers and she
had a great deal to talk about, for they were not ushered into the
breakfast-room for many minutes, and after the very moderate meal which
sufficed us both upon the occasion had long been finished. The butler
and Oliver Bradford were by no means good friends, and it must have been
something portentous indeed which brought them to the Rectory together.
It was, in fact, their very rivalry which had produced the double
visit. Each conceived himself to be the superior minister of the absent
potentate, and called upon, by that position, to act in his master's
behalf, and give notice to neighbouring powers, such as the parson, of
the event that had paralyzed affairs at the Hall. It seemed only natural
(as he himself subsequently expressed it) to Oliver Bradford, who had
been servant, man and boy, to the Heath family for nearly sixty years,
that he should be the spokesman on an occasion such as this, and
sleeking his scanty white hairs over his forehead with the palm of his
hand, and passing the back of it across his mouth, he commenced as
follows:--
"Muster Long, I make bold to come over here, having been upon the
property going on for three-score years and ten----"
"As out-door servant," interrupted Mr. Gilmore, severely; "but not as
confidential in any way. Mr. Long, this old man here insisted upon
accompanying me in the performance of my duty, and I have humoured him."
"You've what?" cried the ancient keeper; "you've humoured _me_, you oily
knave, have you? No, no, you never did that to Oliver Bradford. It
wasn't worth your while. I come here about my master's business as a
matter of right. Are a few years of truckling, and helping the devil's
hand, and feathering your own nest pretty comfortably, to be weighed
against a lifetime of honest service? Let Mr. Long here decide."
"Look here, men," quoth my tutor, "it is no use quarrelling about
precedence. You are both in the same service, and owe the same duty to
your master. I know what has happened in a general way, and require no
long story from either of you. But you have doubtless each of you some
information concerning this matter peculiar to your own positions, and I
will ask you to communicate it in time. Twelve hours have not elapsed
since your master's disappearance, a very short time surely to set it
down so decidedly to some fatal accident."
"He was as regular in his rounds as clockwork," interposed the old
keeper, shaking his head; "he would never have left the Home Spinney
unvisited last night, if life had been in him."
"And if he had meant to leave Fairburn of his own head," added the
butler, "he would have come back for his brandy before he started; for
all his hearty look, Sir Massingberd could not get on long without that;
and he would not have taken Grimjaw out with him neither."
"Oh, the dog was with him, was it?" said my tutor, musing.
"It was not in the house, sir," replied Gilmore, "after Sir Massingberd
had left. I went to make the fire in his sitting-room, and I noticed
that the creature was neither on the hearthrug, nor under the sofa, as
is usually the case. I don't know when I have known the dog go out with
him o' nights before. When I went to open the front door as usual this
morning, there was Grimjaw, nigh frozen to death."
"Your master had made no sort of preparation, so far as you know, for
his own departure anywhere?"
"None whatever. I set out his cigars for him, and I noticed that he had
only put two in his case, a sure sign that he meant to return soon. He
had no greatcoat, although it was bitter cold."
"Was he armed in any way?"
"No, sir; that is to say, he had his life-preserver, of course, but no
gun or pistol."
"Had he any sum of money, or valuables of any kind about him, Gilmore?"
"I don't think that is at all likely," replied the butler, grinning. "We
haven't seen money at the Hall this many a day. As for valuables, Sir
Massingberd had his big gold chain on, with a silver watch at the end of
it, borrowed from me years ago, and my property."
It was remarkable how this ordinarily cautious and discreet person was
changed in manner, as though he was well assured that he would never
more have a master over him. Both Mr. Long and myself observed this.
"What time was your master usually accustomed to return home from his
rounds in the preserves?"
"I did not sit up for him in general," returned Gilmore; "but when I
have chanced to be awake, and to hear him come in, it was never later
than three o'clock. His ordinary time was about half-past twelve, but it
depended on what time he started. He left the Hall last night at about
ten, and should, therefore, have returned a little after midnight. I
never set eyes on him since nine o'clock, when he was in his own
sitting-room reading."
"And when did _you_ see him last, Bradford?"
"When did I see Sir Massingberd Heath?" replied the old keeper, who had
been chafing with impatience through his rival's evidence--"well, I
see'd him last nine hours ago, at nearly twelve o'clock at night. I was
on watch in the Old Plantation, and he came upon me sudden, as usual,
with his long quick stride."
"Was there anything at all irregular about his manner or appearance;
anything in the least degree different from what you always saw upon
these occasions?"
"Nothing, whatever, sir. Look you, I knew my master well," [He had
already begun to talk of him in the past tense!] "I could tell at a
glance when he was put out more than usual, or when he had anything out
of ordinary in hand; he never swore, saving your reverence's presence,
what you may call _freely_ then. He might have knocked one down, likely
enough, if you gave him the least cross, but he was not flush of his
oaths. Now I never heard him in a better fettle in that respect than he
was last night. He cussed the lad Jem Meyrick, who had come up to me
away from Davit's Copse for a light to his pipe; and he cussed me too,
for giving it him, up hill and down dale, and in particular he cussed
Grimjaw for being so old and slow that he couldn't keep up with him.
Sir Massingberd never waited for him, of course; but after he'd been
with us a few minutes, the old dog came up puffin' and wheezin'; and
when the Squire left us, it followed him as well as it could, but with
the distance getting greater between them at every step. I watched them,
for the moon made it almost as light as day, going straight for the
Wolsey Oak, which was the direct way for the Home Spinney; and that was
where Sir Massingberd meant to go last night, although he never got
there, or leastways the watcher never saw him.
"Have you any reason to believe, keeper, that there were poachers in any
part of the preserves last night?"
"No, sir," replied Oliver, positively. "On the contrary, I knows there
wasn't, although Sir Massingberd was as suspicious of them as usual, or
more so. Why, with Jack Larrup and Dick Swivel both in jail, and all
the Larchers sent out of the parish, and Squat and Burchall at sea,
where was they to come from?"
"Sir Massingberd must have had many enemies?" mused my tutor.
"Ay, indeed, sir," replied old Oliver, pursing his lips; "he held his
own with the strong hand; so strong, however, as no man would contend
against him. If Sir Massingberd has been killed, Mr Long, it was not in
fair fight; he was too much feared for that."
"There has been a gang of gipsies about the place this long time, has
there not?" quoth my tutor.
"There has, sir; but don't you think of gipsies and this here matter of
Sir Massingberd as having anything to do with one another. They're
feeble, feckless bodies at the best. They ain't even good poachers,
although my master always bid us beware of them. They would no more
have ventured to meddle with the squire, than a flock of linnets would
attack a hawk, that's certain."
My tutor had been setting down on paper brief notes of his conversation
with these two men; but he now put the writing away from him, and
inquired what steps, in their judgment, ought to be taken in the matter,
and when.
"You know your master better than I. If he chanced to come back this
afternoon, or to-morrow, or next day, from any expedition he may have
chosen to undertake, would he not be much annoyed at any hue and cry
having been made after him?"
"That he just would," observed the keeper with emphasis.
"I would not have been the man to make the fuss," remarked the butler,
sardonically, "for more money than he has paid me these ten years."
"In a word," observed my tutor, "you are both come here to shift the
responsibility of a public search from your own shoulders to mine. Very
good. I accept it. Let sufficient hands be procured at once, Bradford,
to search the Chase and grounds, and drag the waters. And you, Gilmore,
must accompany me, while I set seals on such rooms as may seem necessary
up at the Hall."
The butler was for moving away on the instant with a "_Very_ well, sir,"
but Mr. Long added, "Please to wait in Mrs. Myrtle's parlour for me. We
must go together."
"I don't like the look of that man Gilmore at all, sir," observed I,
when the two had left the room.
"No, nor I, Peter," returned my tutor, sententiously, as he set about
collecting tapes and sealing-wax; "I am afraid he is a rogue in grain."
Now, that was not by any means, or rather was very far short of, what I
meant to imply; what I had had almost upon my burning lips was, "Don't
you think he has murdered Sir Massingberd?" But the moment had gone by
for putting the question, even if Mr. Long had not begun to whistle--a
sure sign with him that he did not wish to speak upon the matter any
further, just at present.