NOT LIFTED.
My Lady Level sat at the open window of her husband's sitting-room, in
the dark, her hot face lifted to the cool night air. Only a moment ago
Lord Level had been calling out in his delirium, and Mrs. Edwards was
putting cool appliances to his head, and damp, hot bricks to his feet.
And Blanche knew that it was she who, by her indiscreet remarks and
questioning, had brought on the crisis. She had not meant to harm or
excite him; but she had done it; and she was very contrite.
It was now between ten and eleven o'clock. She did not intend to go to
bed that night; and she had already slipped off her evening dress,
and put on a morning one of soft gray cashmere. With his lordship in a
fresh attack of fever, and the police about, the household did not
think of going to rest.
Blanche Level sat in a miserable reverie, her lovely face pressed upon
her slender hand, the tears standing in her blue eyes. She was
suspecting her husband of all kinds of unorthodox things--this has
been said before. Not the least disloyal of them being that an
individual named Nina, who wore long gold earrings to enhance her
charms, was concealed in that east wing, which might almost be called
a separate house, and which owned a separate entrance.
And a conviction lay upon Lady Level--caught up since, not at the
time--that it was this Nina who had attacked Lord Level. She could not
drive away the impression.
Naturally she was bitterly resentful. Not at the attack, but at all
the rest of it. She had said nothing yet to her husband, and she did
not know whether she ever should say it; for even to speak upon such
a topic reflected on herself a shame that stung her. _Of course_ he
forbade the search lest this visitor should be discovered, reasoned
she; that is, he told her to forbid it: but ought she to obey him?
Lady Level, cowering there in the darkness, would have served as a
perfect exemplification of a small portion of Collins's "Ode to the
Passions."
'Thy numbers, Jealousy, to naught were fixed,
Sad proof of thy distressful state;
Of differing themes the veering song was mixed,
And now it courted love, now raving, called on hate.'
Thus was it here. One moment she felt that she could--and should--put
Lord Level away from her for his falsity, his treachery; the next she
was conscious that life without him would be one long and bitter
penance, for she had learned to love him with her whole heart and
soul.
And until that miserable sojourn at Pisa, she had deemed that he
returned her love, truly and passionately. Fie on the deceitful wiles
of man!
A stir in the passage without. Was there any change in Lord Level, for
better or for worse? Despite her resentment, she was anxious, and she
opened the door. Mrs. Edwards had come out from the opposite chamber,
a basin in hand.
"My lady, he is calmer," whispered the housekeeper, answering the
unspoken question which she read in her eyes. "If he could only be
kept so, if he had nothing to disturb him, he would soon be well
again. It is a most unlucky thing that these police should have come
here, where they are not wanted. That of itself must bring excitement
to his lordship."
"It is unlucky that these tales should have been carried to him,"
haughtily reproved the young lady. "I cannot think who does it, or
why."
"Nay, my lady, but when his lordship questions of this and that, he
must be answered."
Closing the door of the sick-chamber very quietly, Mrs. Edwards passed
down the stairs. At the same moment, covert steps were heard
ascending them. Lady Level caught a glimpse of Mr. Inspector Poole's
head, and stole back out of sight.
Meanwhile Mr. Ravensworth had been trying to gain a little explanation
from that official. "Do you know," he said to him, "that you are here
against Lord Level's wishes, and in direct opposition to his orders?"
"No, I do not," replied the inspector. "I did not understand it in
that light. I certainly was told that his lordship had said he would
not have the case officially inquired into, but I understood that he
was lightheaded when he spoke, not at all conscious of what he was
saying."
"From whom, then, did you receive your instructions, Mr. Poole?"
"From Dr. Macferraty," was the ready answer. "He called in at the
station this evening."
"Ah!" cried Arnold Ravensworth.
"It would be a grave mistake, he said, if so monstrous a thing--they
were the doctors own words--should be left uninvestigated, because his
lordship was off his head," added the inspector. "May I ask, sir, if
you entertain any suspicion--in any quarter?"
"Not any," decisively replied Mr. Ravensworth. "The whole thing is to
me most mysterious."
The speakers looked at one another. Mr. Poole was deliberating whether
he should give a hint of what Jekyl had said about Lady Level. But he
was saved the trouble.
"I understand, through overhearing a word or two, that your men have
been wondering whether the culprit could have been Lady Level," spoke
Mr. Ravensworth in low tones. "The very idea is monstrous: you have
but now used the right word. _Believe me_, she is innocent as a child.
But she is most terribly frightened."
"Well, I thought it very unlikely," admitted the inspector.
"But it seems," slowly continued Mr. Ravensworth, weighing well his
words, "that she caught sight at the time, or thought she caught
sight, of a figure curiously attired in white flannel, who dropped, or
flung, the knife down in her chamber. Lord Level says it was not white
flannel, but light fustian, such as a countryman might wear. According
to that, he must also have seen the individual. The difficulty,
however, is, to know whether his lordship is speaking in his senses or
out of them."
"Someone must have got in, then, after all; in spite of the doors
being found as they were left."
"I think so. I cannot see any other loophole for suspicion to fall
back upon. Concealed himself in the house probably beforehand. And,
for all we know, may be concealed in it still. I gathered an
impression while Lady Level was talking to me that it might really be
some escaped madman. All the same, Lord Level persists in forbidding
the matter to be investigated."
Keen and practical, the officer revolved what he heard. The story was
a curious one altogether, and as yet he did not see his way in it.
"I think, sir," he said with deliberation, "that I shall take the
affair into my hands, and act, in the uncertain state of his
lordship's mind, upon my own responsibility. First of all, we will
just go through the house."
Mr. Ravensworth went with him: they two together. After a thorough
search, nothing wrong could they find or discover. The servants and
the two policemen remained below; Mrs. Edwards was in close attendance
upon his lordship; and the steward, who appeared most exceedingly to
resent the presence of these police in the house, had shut himself
into his rooms.
In the course of time, the inspector and Mr. Ravensworth approached
these rooms. Passing Lord Level's chamber with soft footsteps, they
traversed the passages beyond it, until they found themselves stopped
by a door, which was fastened.
Mr. Poole shook it. "It must lead to some of the remote rooms," he
observed, "and they are uninhabited. Just the spot for an assassin to
conceal himself in--or to try to do so."
"I think these may be the steward's apartments," spoke Arnold
Ravensworth doubtingly. "I remember Lady Level said they were only
divided from his lordship's chamber by a passage or two."
Whose ever rooms they were, no one came to the door in answer to the
summons, and the inspector knocked again.
This time it brought forth Mr. Drewitt. They heard him draw a chain,
and then he opened the door a few inches, as far as the chain
permitted him.
"Will you let us in, Mr. Drewitt? I must search these rooms."
"Search for what?" asked the old man. "It's you, is it, Poole! I
cannot have my rooms searched. This morning, after the alarm, I went
over them, to be quite sure, and that's sufficient."
"Allow me to search for myself," returned the officer.
"No, sir," answered the steward, with dignity. "No one shall come in
to search these rooms in opposition to the wish of my lord. His orders
to me were that the affair should be allowed to drop, and I for one
will not disobey him, or give help to those who would. His lordship
believed that whoever it might be that attacked him came in and went
out again. The country might be hunted over, he said, but not his
house."
"I must enter here," was all the answer reiterated by the officer.
"It shall be over my body, then," returned the steward, with emotion.
"My lord forbade a search, and you have no right whatever to proceed
with it."
"My good man, I am a police inspector."
"You may be inspector-general for all I care," retorted the old
gentleman, "but you don't come in here. Get my lord's authority
first, and then you will be welcome. As to reminding me who you are,
Mr. Poole, you must know that to be superfluous. And I beg _your_
pardon, sir," he added, addressing Mr. Ravensworth, "but I would
inquire what authority you hold from my lord, that you, a stranger,
should set at naught his expressed wishes?"
The door was shut and bolted in their faces, and the inspector leaned
against the wall in thought. "Did you notice his agitation?" he
whispered to Mr. Ravensworth. "There's more in this than meets the
eye."
It certainly wore that appearance. However, for the present they were
foiled, and the steward remained master of the position. To attempt to
enter those rooms by force would create noise and commotion in the
house that might be disastrous to the health of Lord Level.
"There's _something_ in those rooms that has to be concealed," spoke
the astute inspector. "If it be the man who attacked Lord Level----"
"But the steward, devoted as he is to his master, would not harbour
_him_," impulsively interrupted Arnold Ravensworth.
"True. Unless--unless, mind you, there exists some cause, which we
cannot even guess at, for his lordship's shielding him," said the
inspector. "I must say I should like to get into the rooms."
"There is no other way of doing it; no other entrance."
"I don't know that, sir. Unless I am mistaken, these rooms communicate
direct with the East Wing. By getting into that, we might find an
unsuspected entrance."
He made his way downstairs in silence, musing as he went. At the foot
of the staircase he encountered Deborah.
"Which are the passages in this lower part of the house that lead to
the East Wing?" he inquired.
"Not any of them, sir," answered Deborah promptly. "At least, not any
that are ever opened. At the end of the stone passage there's a heavy
door, barred and bolted, that leads to other passages, I believe, and
to other heavy bolted doors, and they lead into the East Wing. That's
what I have heard say. The only entrance in use is the one through Mr.
Drewitt's rooms."
Opposition seemed only to strengthen the will of Mr. Inspector Poole.
"Into the rooms I mean to make my way," he said to Mr. Ravensworth, as
he retraced his steps up the staircase. "Could you not," he hastily
added, "get Lady Level to bring her authority to bear upon old
Drewitt?"
It was the appearance of Lady Level that probably induced the thought.
She, looking pale, haggard and uneasy, was peeping down at them, and
did not escape in time.
Arnold Ravensworth somewhat hesitatingly acceded. They wished to speak
to Mr. Drewitt--he put it to her in that way--but he had bolted
himself into his rooms; would she use her authority and bid him admit
them?
She complied at once, unsuspiciously. Of all parts of the house, that
occupied by the steward must be most free from concealment. And she
went with them to the barred-up door.
The steward did not presume to dispute Lady Level's mandate, which she
gave somewhat imperiously. She entered with them. They found
themselves in the old gentleman's sitting-room, and he placed chairs
for them. "We have not come to sit down," said Mr. Poole; and he
passed into the other rooms in rapid succession: the two bed-chambers
and the unoccupied room that had nothing in it but a few trunks. A
very cursory inspection convinced him that no person was being
harboured there.
"Why could you not have admitted us just now, Mr. Drewitt?" he asked.
"Because you brought not the authority of either my lord or my lady,"
answered the faithful old retainer.
The inspector strode to the end of the passage and stood before the
oaken door already spoken of, examining its heavy fastenings. The
others had followed him.
"This must be the door communicating between the house and the East
Wing," he remarked. "Will you open it, Mr. Drewitt?"
"No, sir, I will not."
"But we must have it opened," interposed Arnold Ravensworth. "The fact
is, we have some reason to fear the midnight assassin may yet be
hiding himself on the premises. He does not appear to be in the house,
so he may be in the East Wing--and we mean to search it."
"Are you an enemy of my lord's?" returned the old man, greatly
agitated.
"Certainly not. I would rather be his friend. I have been the friend,
if I may so express it, of Lady Level since she was a child, and I
must see that she is protected, her husband being for the time laid
aside."
"My lady," called out the old man, visibly trembling, "I appeal to
you, as my lord's second self, to forbid these gentlemen from
attempting to enter the East Wing."
"Be firm, Blanche," whispered Mr. Ravensworth, as she came forward.
"We must search the East Wing, and it is for your sake."
She turned to the steward. "I am sure that they are acting for the
best. Open the door."
For one moment the old man hesitated, and then wrung his hands. "That
I should be forced to disobey the wife of my lord! My lady, I crave
your pardon, but I will not open these rooms unless I have the express
authority of his lordship to do so."
"But I wish it done, Mr. Drewitt," she said, blushing hotly.
Police inspectors have generally the means of carrying out their own
will. Mr. Poole, after critically regarding the fastenings, produced
one or two small instruments from his pockets and a bunch of keys. As
he was putting one of the keys into the lock for the purpose of trying
whether it would fit it, a curious revulsion came over Lady Level.
Possibly the piteous, beseeching countenance of the steward induced
it. "He _is_ my husband, after all," she whispered to her own heart.
"Stop!" she said aloud, pushing the key downwards. "I may not have the
right to sanction this in opposition to the wish of Lord Level. He has
forbidden any search to be made, and I must do the same."
There was a moment's silence. The inspector gazed at her.
"When his lordship shall be sufficiently recovered to see you, sir,
you can take instructions from him if he sees well to give them," she
added to the officer civilly. "Until then, I must act for him, and I
forbid----"
"Highty-tighty, and what's the matter here?" broke in a hearty voice
behind them, at which they all turned in surprise. Making his way
along the passage was a portly, but rather short man of sixty years,
with an intellectual brow and benevolent countenance, a red face and a
bald head. The change in Mr. Drewitt's look was remarkable; its
piteousness had changed to radiance.
The new-comer shook hands with him. Then he turned and affably shook
hands with the inspector, speaking gaily. "You look as if you had the
business of all the world on your shoulders, Poole."
"Have you seen my lord, Mr. Hill?" asked the steward.
"I got back home to-night and came on here at once, hearing of the
hubbub you are in, and I have seen my lord for a few minutes. And this
is my lady--and a very charming lady I am sure she is," he added,
bowing to Lady Level with an irresistible smile. "Will she shake hands
with the old man who has been doctor-in-ordinary to her lord's family
for ages and ages?"
Blanche put her hand into his. She, as she was wont sometimes to tell
him in days to come, fell in love with him at once.
"What a blessing that you are back again!" murmured the good old
steward.
"Ay," assented Mr. Hill, perhaps purposely misinterpreting the
remark: "we will have Lord Level up and about in no time now.--Mr.
Poole, I want a private word with you."
The doctor drew him into the steward's sitting-room, and closed the
door. The conference did not last more than a minute or two, but it
was very effectual. For when Mr. Inspector Poole came forth, he
announced his decision of withdrawing all search at present. To be
resumed if necessary, he added, when his lordship should have
recovered sufficiently to give his own orders.
The only one who did not appear to be altogether satisfied with this
summary check was Arnold Ravensworth. He did not understand it. Upon
some remark being made as to Lady Level's safety from any attack by
the midnight villain, Mr. Hill at once told her _he_ would guarantee
that. And though he spoke with a laugh, as if making light of the
matter, there was an assurance in his eye and tone that she might
implicitly trust to.
"Then--as it seems I cannot be of any further use to you to-night, and
as I may just catch the midnight up-train, I will wish you good-bye,
Lady Level," said Mr. Ravensworth. "I am easy about you, now Mr. Hill
is here. But be sure to write for me if you think I can be of service
to you or to Lord Level."
"I will, I will," she answered. "Thank you, Arnold, for coming."
* * * * *
Marshdale House returned to its usual monotony, and a day or two went
on. Nothing more was seen or heard of the unknown individual who had
so disturbed its peace; the very mention of it was avoided.
Nevertheless, Blanche, turning matters over in her mind, could only
look at it and at that detestable East Wing with an increased sense of
mystery. "But for knowing that someone was there who might not be
disclosed to the honest light of day, why should he have forbidden the
search?" ran the argument that she was for ever holding with herself;
and she steeled her heart yet more against her husband.
On this, the second afternoon after the commotion, she was sitting
reading a newspaper in the garden, where the sun was shining hotly,
when Mr. Hill, who had been up with Lord Level, appeared.
"Well," said the doctor cheerily, halting before her, "he is a great
deal better, and the knee's ever so much stronger. I shall have him up
to-morrow. And in a couple of days after that he may venture to travel
to town, as he is so anxious to get there."
"Your treatment seems to agree with him better than Dr. Macferraty's
did," she answered.
"Ay: I know his constitution, you see. Good-day, Lady Level. I shall
be in again to-night."
Soon after the doctor went out, there was heard a shrill whistle at
the gate, together with a kicking about of gravel by a pair of rough
boots. Lady Level looked up, and saw the boy from the station bringing
in a parcel.
"Well, Sam," said she, as the lad approached. "What have you come
for?"
"They sent me on with this here parcel--and precious heavy he is for
his size," replied Sam Doughty, as without ceremony he tumbled the
parcel on to the bench by Lady Level's side. It was addressed to her,
and she knew that it contained some books which Mr. Ravensworth had
promised to send down. "Come down by the mid-day train," curtly added
the boy for her information.
"Do you get paid for delivering parcels, Sam?"
"_Me_ get paid!" returned the youth, with intense aggravation; "no
such luck. Unless," added he, a happy thought striking him, "anybody
likes to give me something for myself--knowing how weighty they be,
and what a lug it is for one's arms."
"This parcel is not at all heavy," said Lady Level.
"I'm sure he is, then, for his size. You should lift, though, what I
have to drag along sometimes. Why, yesterday that ever was, I brought
a parcel as big as a house to the next door; one that come from Lunnon
by the mid-day train just as this'n did; and Mother Snow she never
gave me nothing but a jam tart, no bigger nor the round o' your hand.
She were taking a tray on 'em out o' the oven."
"Jam tarts for _her_ delectation!" was the thought that flashed
through Lady Level's mind. "Who was the parcel for, Sam?" she asked
aloud.
"'Twere directed to Mrs. Snow."
"Oh. Not to that lady who is staying there?"
"What lady be that?" questioned Sam.
"The one you told me about. The lady with the long gold earrings."
Sam's stolid countenance assumed a look of doubt, as if he did not
altogether understand. His eyes grew wider.
"_That_ un! Her bain't there now, her bain't. Her didn't stop. Her
went right away again the next day after she come."
"_Did_ she?" exclaimed Lady Level, taken by surprise. "Are you sure?"
"Be I sure as that's a newspaper in your hand?" retorted Sam. "In
course I be sure. The fly were ordered down here for her the next
morning, and she come on to the station in it, Mr. Snow a sitting
outside."
"She went back to London, then!"
"She went just t'other way," contradicted the boy. "Right on by the
down-train. Dover her ticket were took for."
Lady Level fell into a passing reverie. All the conjectures she had
been indulging in lately--whither had they flown? At that moment Mrs.
Edwards, having seen the boy from the house, came out to ask what he
wanted. Sam put on his best behaviour instantly. The respect he failed
to show to the young lady was in full force before Mrs. Edwards.
"I come to bring this here parcel, please, ma'am, for Lady Level,"
said he, touching his old cap.
"Oh, very well," said Mrs. Edwards. "I'll carry it indoors, my lady,"
she added, taking it up. "You need not wait, Sam."
Lady Level slipped a sixpence into his ready hand, and he went off
contented. Mrs. Edwards carried away the parcel.
Presently Lady Level followed, her mind busy as she went upstairs. She
was taking some contrition to herself. What if--if it was all, or a
great deal of it, only her imagination--that her husband was not the
disloyal man she had deemed him?
His chamber door was closed; she passed it and went into her own. Then
she opened the door separating the rooms and peeped in. He was lying
upon the bed, partly dressed, and wrapped in a warm dressing-gown; his
face was turned to the pillow, and he was apparently asleep.
She stole up and stood looking at him. Not a trace of fever lingered
in his face now; his fine features looked wan and delicate. Her love
for him was making itself heard just then. Cautiously she stooped to
imprint a soft, silent kiss upon his cheek; and then another.
She would have lifted her face then, and found she could not do so.
His arm was round her in a trice, holding it there; his beautiful gray
eyes had opened and were fixed on hers.
"So you care for me a little bit yet, Blanche," he fondly whispered.
"Better this than calling me hard names."
She burst into tears. "I should care for you always, Archibald,
if--if--I were sure you cared for me."
"You may be very sure of _that_," he emphatically answered. "Let there
be peace between us, at any rate, my dear wife. The clouds will pass
away in time."
On the Monday morning following, Lord and Lady Level departed for
London. The peace, patched up between them, being honestly genuine and
hopeful on his lordship's part, but doubtful on that of my lady.
Still nothing had been said or done to lift the mystery which hung
about Marshdale.