Produced by David Edwards, Matthew Wheaton and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This
file was produced from images generously made available
by The Internet Archive)
THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE
A Novel
BY
MRS. HENRY WOOD
AUTHOR OF "EAST LYNNE," ETC.
IN THREE VOLUMES
VOL. II.
LONDON
RICHARD BENTLEY AND SON
Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty the Queen
1888
[_All Rights Reserved_]
CONTENTS OF VOL. II.
CHAPTER PAGE
I. SUSPICION 1
II. NOT LIFTED 26
III. ONE NIGHT IN ESSEX STREET 52
IV. LEAH'S STORY 75
V. LADY CLAVERING 100
VI. THE MISSING WILL 130
VII. ANNABEL 154
VIII. PERRY'S REVELATION 178
IX. SOMEONE ELSE SEEN 200
X. PROWLING ABOUT 224
XI. MRS. BRIGHTMAN 247
XII. MY LORD AND MY LADY 272
THE STORY OF CHARLES STRANGE.
CHAPTER I.
SUSPICION.
The church-clock of that small country place, Upper Marshdale, was
chiming half-past nine on a dark night, as the local inspector turned
out of the police-station and made his way with a fleet step across a
piece of waste land and some solitary fields beyond it. His name was
Poole, and he was hastening to Marshdale House, as Lord Level's place
was called. A mysterious occurrence had taken place there the night
before: Lord Level, previously an invalid, had been stabbed in his
bed.
The officer rang a loud peal at the outer gate, and a policeman, who
had been already sent on, came from the house to answer the summons.
He waited when they were both within the gate, knowing that he should
be questioned. His superior walked half-way up the avenue, and placed
his back against a tree.
"What have you learnt, Jekyl? Any clue to the assassin?"
The policeman dropped his voice to a whisper, as though afraid the
very trees might hear. "Speak up," sharply interrupted the inspector.
"The air carries no tales."
"The case seems as clear, sir, as any we ever came across; a clear
case against Lady Level."
It takes a great deal to astonish a police inspector, but this
announcement certainly astonished Mr. Inspector Poole. "Against Lady
Level?" he repeated.
"She's the guilty one, sir, I fear. But who'd think it, to see her?
Only about twenty or so, and with beauty enough to knock you over, and
blue eyes that look you down in their pride. She's dressed out like
those high-born ladies do dress, in light silk that glistens as she
walks, her neck and arms uncovered. There's a gentleman with her now,
some friend of the family, and he won't let us go on with our
investigation. He came and stopped it, and said we were acting against
Lord Level's wishes."
"But why do you suspect Lady Level?" inquired the inspector.
"Listen, sir. It appears certain that no one got in; the doors and
windows were left safe, and were found so; hadn't been disturbed at
all; there has been no robbery, or anything of that sort, and no
suspicion attaches to any of the servants so far as I see. Then there
are the facts themselves. The servants were aroused in the middle of
the night by Lord Level's bell ringing violently, and my lady
screaming. When they got to his room, there he lay, fainted dead off,
stabbed in two places, and she pretty near fainting too, and dropped
down in a chair in her silk dressing-gown----"
"I am acquainted with the facts so far, Jekyl."
"Well, sir. Not a sign or symptom was there of anybody else being
about, or of anybody's having been about. Her ladyship's version is,
that she was woke up by Lord Level calling to her, and she found him
stabbed and bleeding. That is all she will confess to."
"And he?"
"He says nothing, I hear, except that he will not have the police
called in. He did not even want to have a doctor. But his lordship is
off his head with fever, and may not know what he is saying."
"How does Lady Level account for the knife being found in her room?"
"There it is," cried the man. "Whenever these people, let them be high
or low, do an evil deed, they are certain to commit some act of folly
which allows suspicion to creep in. They over-do it, or they under-do
it. If anyone else had done it and carried the weapon to her
ladyship's room, she must have seen who it was, and would surely have
denounced him. And why did _she_ put it there of all places? There's a
fatality on them, I say, sir, and they can't escape it."
"But her motive for attacking him?"
"They were on bad terms, it seems. The servants heard them quarrelling
violently earlier in the evening."
"Did the servants tell you this, to confirm their suspicions against
her?"
"They don't suspect her, sir," replied Jekyl. "I and Cliff have drawn
our own deductions by what they have said, and by personal
observation."
The inspector mused. He was a kindly-disposed man, possessed his share
of common sense, and did not feel so sure about the matter as his
subordinate. "It appears scarcely credible that a young woman like
Lady Level, hardly six months married, should attempt her husband's
life, Jekyl. Where are these servants?"
"In the kitchen, sir. This way. There's no establishment to speak of.
When my lord was detained here through damage to his knee, my lady
followed him down--against his will, it's whispered--and brought only
her maid and a man-servant."
"I think you have been listening to a good deal of gossip," remarked
Inspector Poole, as he moved on to the house.
Meanwhile Lady Level, in deep agitation, stood at the window which she
had had thrown up for air, while she made the confession to Mr.
Ravensworth that she had been a witness to the attack on her husband.
This she had denied before; and it might never have been wrung from
her, but that she overheard the two policemen, already in the house,
whispering their suspicions against her.
She was shocked, indignant, terrified. She leaned for support on the
window-frame, panting for breath in the cold night air.
"Arnold, am I to bear this?"
He stood with folded arms. He felt for her deeply: were she connected
with him by near ties of blood, he could not have been more anxious to
protect her; but a strong doubt that she _might_ be guilty was working
within him. He supposed she must have received some great provocation
from Lord Level.
"How cruel they are to entertain such a suspicion! If they--if
they---- Oh, Arnold, they never will arrest me!--they never will
publicly accuse me!" she uttered, as a new possibility occurred to
her.
"Blanche, listen," he rejoined, talking to her as he had talked when
she was a child. "All that can be done for you, I will do; but I
cannot work in this uncertainty. Tell me the truth; be it good or be
it ill, I will stand by you; but, if I am to be of service to you, I
must know it. Was it you who struck Lord Level?"
"No. Have I not just told you so?"
"What you told me I do not understand. You say you saw it done----"
"Then I did not see it done," she petulantly interrupted; and no more
questions would she answer.
"Let me take you back to the fire," said Mr. Ravensworth, as he shut
down the window. "You are trembling with cold."
"Not with cold," was her reply.
Stirring the fire into a blaze, he drew the easy-chair near it for
her. He then stood by, saying nothing.
"Suppose they should openly accuse me?" she began, after a silence.
"Would they arrest me?"
"Blanche," he retorted, in sharp, ringing, imperative accents, "are
you guilty? Tell me, one way or the other, that I may know what to be
at."
Lady Level rose and confronted him, her blue eyes wearing their most
haughty expression. "You have known me for many years, known me well;
how then can you repeat that question? _I_ guilty of attacking Lord
Level!"
"I would rather believe myself--I could as soon believe my own wife
guilty of such a thing; but why have you equivocated with me? You have
not told me the truth, as to what passed that night."
"My husband charged me not to tell anyone."
"Five minutes ago you told me yourself that you saw it done; now you
say you did not see it. What am I to think?"
"In saying I saw it done, I spoke hastily; what I ought to have said
was, that I saw who did it. And then, to-day, Lord Level insisted that
I had been dreaming," she abstractedly continued. "Arnold, do you
believe that we can see visions or dream dreams that afterwards wear
the semblance of realities?"
"I wish you would not speak in riddles. The time is going on; those
men of the law may come in and accuse you, and what defence am I to
make for you? You know that you may trust me. What you say shall
never pass my lips."
Lady Level deliberated. "I will trust you," she said at length: "there
seems to be no help for it. I went to rest last night angry with Lord
Level, for we had spoken irritating words to each other. I lay awake,
I dare say for an hour, indulging bitter thoughts, and then I dropped
asleep. Suddenly something woke me; I cannot tell you what it was:
whether it was any noise, or whether it was the opening of the door,
which I had closed, between my room and Lord Level's. All I know is,
that door was wide open, and someone stood in the doorway with a
lighted candle. It was a strange-looking object, and seemed to be
dressed in flannel--either a long flannel shirt or a flannel gown. In
the confusion of the moment I believed it must be Lord Level, and I
was struck with amazement, for Lord Level is not able to get out of
bed without assistance, from the injury to his knee, and I thought how
long his hair was, and how dark it had grown--that was, you know,
when I was between sleeping and waking. Then I saw that it had large,
flashing black eyes, so it could not be Lord Level. It crossed the
room----"
"Blanche," he interrupted, "you speak just as if you were describing a
vision. It----"
"That is what Lord Level now says it was. Let me go on. It crossed the
room as far as the dressing-table. I started up in bed then, and the
wild eyes turned upon me, and at the same moment Lord Level called out
from his own bed, apparently in agitation or pain. The figure dropped
something, turned round, and darted back again through the open door
to the other chamber. I saw the candle fall from its hand to the
floor, and the place was in darkness, except for the little light that
came from Lord Level's night-lamp. Terror overwhelmed me, and I cried
out, and then my husband called to me by name. I ran to his room,
flinging on my warm silk dressing-gown as I went, and there I found
him hurt in some way, for he was bleeding from the arm and from the
side. Arnold, as I live, as I breathe, that is the whole truth," she
concluded with emotion.
"Did you again see the figure? Was it in Lord Level's room?"
"It was not there. I saw no trace of it. I remember I picked up the
candlestick, for it was right in my path, and I screamed when I saw
the blood upon my husband. He caught me to him by the other arm, as I
have told you, telling me not to be frightened, that he would protect
me; and I saw how white he looked, and that his brow was damp.
Presently I asked him who and what it was; and the question seemed to
excite him. 'Say nothing of what you have seen,' he cried; 'I charge
you, _nothing_.' I don't quite know what I replied; it was to the
effect that the household must be aroused, and the figure searched
for. 'Blanche, you are my wife,' he said solemnly; 'my interests are
yours; I charge you, by your duty and obedience to me, that you say
nothing. Bury this in silence, as you value your life and mine.' Then
he fainted and his hold relaxed, and I screamed out and the servants
came. Had my life depended upon it I could not have helped screaming.
What the figure had dropped in my room proved to be the knife."
"This is a very strange account!" exclaimed Mr. Ravensworth.
"It is so strange that I lose myself at times, wondering whether I was
dreaming or awake. But it was true; it was true; though I could not
proclaim it in defiance of my husband."
"Do you think the figure, as you call it, could have been one of the
servants in disguise?"
"I am certain it was not. Not one of them has that dark Italian face."
"Italian face!" echoed Mr. Ravensworth. "Why do you call it an Italian
face?"
Lady Level bent her head. "The thought somehow struck me," she
answered, after a pause. "Not at the time, but since. I fancied it
not unlike the Italian faces that one sees in pictures."
"Was it a man or a woman?"
"I do not know. At the time I took it to be a man, quite young. But
since, recalling the appearance--well, it seems to me that it is
impossible to decide which it was."
"And you saw no signs of this mysterious figure afterwards?"
"None whatever. There were no traces, I tell you, of its having been
there, except the injury to Lord Level, the knife, and the fallen
candlestick. The candlestick may have been left in Lord Level's room
the previous night, for it is precisely like those used in the
household, so that the figure may have lighted it from the
night-lamp."
Mr. Ravensworth could not make much of all this. It puzzled him. "The
curious thing is," he said aloud, "where could the figure have come
from?"
"The curious thing is, that Lord Level wants to persuade me now that
this was only a dream of the imagination."
"That his wounds are?"
"Not his wounds, of course--or the knife, but a great deal of what I
told him. He ridicules the bare idea of its being a 'strange figure,'
'strangely dressed.' He says he caught a full view of the man who
attacked him; that he should know him again; that he was dressed in a
sort of soft light fustian, and was no more wild-looking than I am,
except such wildness as arose from his state of inebriation, and he
suspects he was a poacher who must have got in through one of the
windows."
Mr. Ravensworth pondered over the tale: and he could not help deeming
it a most improbable one. But that traces of some mysterious presence
had been left behind, he would have regarded it as her husband
appeared partially to regard it--a midnight freak of Lady Level's
imagination. "Yet the wounds are realities," said Mr. Ravensworth,
speaking aloud, in answer to his own thoughts.
"Arnold, it is all a reality," she said impressively. "There are
moments, I say, when I am almost tempted to question it, but in my
sober reason I know it to have been true; and while I ask myself, 'Was
it a dream?' I hold a perfect, positive conviction that it was only
too terrible a reality."
"You have spoken once or twice of its wild appearance. Did it look
like a madman?"
"I never saw a madman, that I know of. This creature looked wild
enough to be mad. There was one thing I thought curious in connection
with finding the knife," proceeded Lady Level. "Timms, who picked it
up, while Sanders had gone down for some hot water, brought it into
Lord Level's room, calling out that she had found the weapon. 'Why,
that's Mr. Drewitt's knife!' exclaimed the housemaid, Deborah, as soon
as she saw it; and the steward, who had only just reached the room,
asked her how she could make the assertion. 'It is yours, sir,' said
Deborah; 'it's your new knife; I have seen it on your table, and
should know it anywhere.' 'Deborah, if you repeat that again, I'll
have you punished,' sharply called out the housekeeper, without, you
understand, turning from Lord Level, to whom she was attending, to
ascertain whether it was or was not the knife. Now, Arnold," added
Lady Level, "ill and terrified as I felt at the moment, a conviction
came across me that it was Mr. Drewitt's knife, but that he and Mrs.
Edwards were purposely denying it."
"It is impossible to suspect them of attacking, or conniving at the
attack on Lord Level."
"They attack Lord Level! They would rather attack the whole world
combined, than that a hair of his head should suffer. They are fondly,
devotedly attached to him. And Deborah, it appears, has been convinced
out of her assertion. Hark! who is that?"
Mr. Ravensworth opened the door to reconnoitre. The inspector was
prowling about the house and passages, exploring the outlets and
inlets, followed by his two men, who had done the same before him.
"I thought you had forbidden the men to search," cried Lady Level.
"Why are they disobeying you?"
"Their chief is here now, and of course his orders go before mine.
Besides, after what you have told me, I consider there ought to be a
thorough search," added Mr. Ravensworth.
"In opposition to Lord Level?"
"I think that Lord Level has not taken a sufficiently serious view of
the case. The only solution I can come to is, that some escaped madman
got into the house before it was closed for the night, and concealed
himself in it. If so, he may be in it now."
"Now! In it now!" she exclaimed, turning pale.
"Upon my word, I think it may be so. The doors and windows were all
found safely fastened, you see. Therefore he could not escape during
the night. And since the doors were opened this morning, the
household, I take it, has been so constantly on the alert, that it
might be an extremely difficult matter for him to get away unseen. If
he, this madman, did enter yesterday evening, he must have found some
place of concealment and hidden himself in it for hours, since it was
not until one o'clock that he made the attack on Lord Level."
"Oh, Arnold, that is all too improbable," she rejoined doubtingly. "A
madman could not plan and do all that."
"Madmen are more cunning than sane ones, sometimes."
"But I--I think it was a woman," said Lady Level, lowering her voice
and her eyes.
Mr. Ravensworth looked at her. And for the first time, a feeling
flashed into his mind that Lady Level had some suspicion which she
would not speak of.
"Blanche," he said sharply, "do you know who it was? Tell me, if you
do."
"I do not," she answered emphatically. "I may imagine this and
imagine that, but I do not know anything."
"You were speaking, then, from imagination?"
"Y--es. In a case of mystery, such as this, imagination runs riot, and
you can't prevent its doing so."
Again there was something about Lady Level that struck Mr. Ravensworth
as being not honestly true. Before more could be said, steps were
heard approaching the room; and Lady Level, afraid to meet the police,
made her escape from it.
Running swiftly upstairs, she was passing Lord Level's door to enter
her own, when she heard his voice, speaking collectedly, and peeped
in. He saw her, and held out his hand. He appeared now quite rational,
though his fine gray eyes were glistening and his fair face was
flushed. Mrs. Edwards was standing by the bedside, and it was to her
he had been talking.
Blanche advanced timidly. "Are you feeling better?" she softly asked.
"Oh, much better; nearly well: but for my knee I should be up and
about," he answered, as he drew her towards him. "Mrs. Edwards, will
you close the door? I wish to speak with my wife."
Mrs. Edwards, with a warning glance at her lady, which seemed to say,
"He is not fit for it"--at least Blanche so interpreted it--went out
and shut the door. Lord Level drew her closer to his side. He was
lying propped up by a mound of pillows, almost sitting up in bed, and
kept her standing there.
"Blanche," he began in very quiet tones, "I hear the police are in the
house."
"Yes," she was obliged to answer, quite taken aback and feeling very
much vexed that he had been told, as it was likely to excite him.
"Who sent for them? You?"
"Oh no."
"Then it was your friend; that fellow Ravensworth. I thought as much."
"But indeed it was not," she eagerly answered, shrinking from her
husband's scornful tones. "When the two policemen came in--and we do
not know who it was sent them--Mr. Ravensworth went to them by my
desire to stop the search. I told him that you objected to it."
"Objected to it! I forbade it," haughtily rejoined Lord Level. "And
if--if----"
"Oh, pray, Archibald, do not excite yourself; do not, do not!" she
interrupted, frightened and anxious. "You know you will become worse
again if you do."
"Will you go and end it in my name? End it, and send them away from
the house."
"Yes, if you tell me to do so; if you insist upon it," she answered.
"But I am afraid."
"Why are you afraid?"
Lady Level bent her head until it was on a level with his. "For this,
Archibald," she whispered: "that they might question me--and I should
be obliged to answer them."
Lord Level gently drew her cool cheek nearer, that it might rest
against his fevered one, and remained silent, apparently pondering the
question.
"After I told you all that I saw that night, you bade me be silent,"
she resumed. "Well, I fear the police might draw it from me if they
questioned me."
"But you must not allow them to draw it from you."
"Oh, but perhaps I could not help it," she sighed. "You know what the
police are--how they question and cross-question people."
"Blanche, I reminded you last night that you were my wife, and you
owed me implicit obedience in all great things."
"Yes, and I am trying to obey you; I am indeed, Archibald," she
protested, almost torn by conflicting emotions; for, in spite of her
doubts and suspicions, and (as she put it to herself) her "wrongs,"
she loved her husband yet.
"Well, my dear, you must be brave for my sake; ay, and for your own.
Listen, Blanche: you will tell the police _nothing_; and they _must
not search the house_. I don't care to see them myself to forbid it; I
don't want to see them. For one thing, I am hardly strong enough to
support the excitement it would cause me. But----"
"Will you tell me something, Archibald?" she whispered. "Is
the--the--person--that attacked you in the house now?"
Lord Level looked surprised. "In this house? Why, how could it be?
Certainly not."
"Was it--was it a woman?" she breathed, her voice low and tremulous.
He turned angry. "How can you be so silly, Blanche? A woman! Oh yes,"
changing to sarcasm, "of course it was a woman. It was you, perhaps."
"That is what they are saying, Archibald."
"_What_ are they saying?" he returned, in dangerous excitement--if
Blanche had only noticed the signs. For all this was agitating him.
"Why, that," she answered, bursting into tears. "The police are saying
so. They are saying that it was I who stabbed you."
Lord Level cried out as a man in agony. And, with that, delirium came
on again.