A “PLANT.”
Until the daylight dawned in the far east the merry ball went on. Even
with daylight the happy dancers were scarcely willing to give up such
glorious fun; but the happiest times must come to an end, and at long
length the sound of the last carriage wheels was heard to die away upon
the gravel outside the old house. The guests who were staying in the
house retired to their various rooms, and Nance, Lady Georgina, and
Rowton found themselves for a moment alone together.
“I am dead tired, of course,” said Lady Georgina, “but I really may as
well say frankly that I never had a better time in my life. The whole
thing was so young and yet so old.”
“What do you mean by that conundrum?” asked Rowton with a careless laugh.
“Must I unriddle my riddle?” she replied. “Well, then, here’s the answer.
The ball was young because it was spirited and absolutely unconventional;
it was old because it seemed to partake of a certain last century
flavour—the room, the situation, certain memories, all conspired to that;
but most of all was the last century flavour accentuated by Dame Rowton’s
presence.” Here Lady Georgina gave a mock but graceful bow in pretty
Nancy’s direction. “Have I explained myself?” she said, turning her
bright eyes full on Rowton’s somewhat flushed but handsome face.
“Perfectly,” he replied. “You have the gift, Lady Georgina, of making
very neat compliments. Now I vote that we all go to bed and discuss the
charms of our house-warming to-morrow.”
“By the way,” said Lady Georgina, as she prepared to leave the room, “I
missed one person towards the end of the evening. Who was it ordered
little Murray off to bed so early?”
“Murray to bed!” exclaimed Nancy. “Why, surely he never went to bed. He
begged of me to let him stay up during the entire night, and, perhaps not
very wisely, I gave him leave. The fact is, I did not think the child
could sleep with so much noise going on.”
“Nevertheless, he must have gone to bed,” said Lady Georgina, “for I
have not seen him for several hours. He was dancing with me, having a
very good time, and making outrageous proposals, the monkey, that I
should be his future wife. He was called out of the room by your maid,
Hester Winsome, but promised to be back in a moment. He never came back,
however.”
“Mrs. Ferguson may have sent Hester to speak to him,” said Nance after a
pause; “she is quite a dragon about early hours for the boy. I wonder he
did not appeal to me. Poor little dear, he must have been disappointed
if he was banished off to bed when he expected so thoroughly to enjoy
himself.”
“The boy was much better in bed,” said Rowton suddenly; “don’t fret
yourselves about him now. Good-night, Lady Georgina.”
He held out his hand as he spoke. The lady took it, favoured him with a
full admiring glance, kissed Nance on her cheek, and left the room.
“Now, Nancy, to bed, to bed. I cannot keep my eyes open a moment longer,”
said her husband. He took her hand and they ran upstairs.
A fire burnt in the beautiful bedroom; the doors of the two
dressing-rooms were wide open—fires were also blazing there. Through the
drawn curtains, with their soft shadows of rose colour, peeped in the
first rays of the dawn.
“How horribly dissipated I feel,” said Nance with a smile. “The fact
is, I have never in the whole course of my life spent the entire night
dancing before.”
“You have enjoyed everything, have you not, dearest?”
“Almost beyond the point of enjoyment,” she replied. “My happiness was
so great that I felt, to allude to an old superstition, ‘fey,’ as they
express it.”
“Nonsense, little woman,” replied her husband. “This is the beginning,
let us trust, of many scenes as gay, as fresh and invigorating.”
Nance moved a step or two nearer to Rowton as he spoke. A ray of sunshine
at that moment pierced through the rose curtains and fell across her face
and figure. It gave her a sort of unearthly beauty. Rowton went up to
her, put his arms round her, and clasped her to his heart.
“What is there about you, child,” he said, “which moves all the best in
me? The dead, forgotten good stirs feebly once again in my breast.”
“But you are good. Why will you ever and always run yourself down?” she
said, a note of pain in her voice.
“To you I _am_ what I seem,” he said; “for you I could, devil that I
am—yes, Nancy, for you I could almost become an angel.” He unloosed her
suddenly as he said the words. “Get to bed, child,” he said; “take off
those pearls and that diamond.”
Nance put her hand to her head, took the black diamond from her hair, and
then slipped the row of pearls from her neck.
“I am glad to be rid of these priceless treasures,” she said. “Had you
not better take them down to the safe at once, Adrian? Is it wise to keep
them here till the morning?”
“It is morning now,” he said, with a yawn; “burglars do not come in broad
daylight; the jewels can lie with perfect safety in your dressing-room
till we get up. Now I am going to tumble into bed as fast as ever I can.”
He went into his dressing-room as he spoke, and Nancy rather slowly and
with a certain unwillingness, which she could not account for, went to
hers.
To her surprise and by no means to her pleasure, Hester, looking pale and
worn, was waiting for her.
“Why are you here, Hester?” exclaimed her mistress. “I particularly told
you that I did not wish you to stay up.” There was some annoyance in
Nancy’s gentle voice.
“Yes, ma’am, you are very kind and thoughtful,” replied the maid,
lowering her eyes as was her invariable habit, “but I could not possibly
let you unlace your dress.”
“My husband could have done it. I really wish you had obeyed me,” said
Nance. “Well, as you are up you had better do what is necessary. Please
give me my jewel-case from the dressing-table; I want to put the pearls
and this diamond into it.”
Hester took up a beautiful morocco jewel-case, unlocked it and held it
out before her mistress. Nancy put the string of pearls and the diamond
in the top compartment of the case.
“It is a queer, uncanny sort of stone,” remarked Hester, looking at the
black diamond as she spoke.
Nancy did not reply. Hester locked the case and gave her mistress the key.
“If you have no objection, ma’am,” she said, after a pause, “would it not
be best to put this case into the safe?”
“No; it is quite unnecessary,” replied Nancy: “you can put it on the
shelf in my wardrobe; and if you are nervous you can give me the key of
the wardrobe.”
“I will certainly do so, ma’am; it is really not wise to have jewel-cases
of this sort about when burglars are known to be in the neighbourhood.”
“I am perfectly sick of the subject of those tiresome burglars,” said
Nancy.
Hester made no remark at all to this, and soon afterwards left her
mistress.
* * * * *
The tired household slept long and late, unsuspicious of any danger. It
was between nine and ten the following morning when Nancy suddenly opened
her eyes. She started up in bed, and was about to ring her bell to summon
Hester, when the young woman hurriedly opened the bedroom door and stood
on the threshold with a scared and absolutely deathlike face.
“Oh, madam, I’m so glad you are awake,” she said. “Vickers said you ought
certainly to be aroused at once, and yet I did not like to do it.”
“What is the matter, Hester? How terrified you look!” cried Nancy.
“Oh, I am, madam. Please will you wake Mr. Rowton; Vickers wishes to see
him immediately.”
“Go into my dressing-room. I’ll be there in no time,” said Nancy.
Hester closed the bedroom door softly behind her.
“Adrian, dear, wake; you are wanted at once,” cried Nancy.
Rowton opened his eyes with a start.
“What is it?” he cried.
“Vickers wants you; I am afraid there is something wrong. Hester came to
the door to call us; she looked so frightened.”
“Vickers wants me!” repeated Rowton. “I don’t know that there is anything
to alarm one in that. I am afraid he must wait for a little, however.
I feel much too sleepy to get out of bed at present.” He turned on his
pillow as he spoke, and wrapped the bedclothes round him.
“But you really must get up, Adrian. Hester’s face looked positively
terrified. I know there is something grave the matter.”
Somewhat unwillingly Rowton sat up in bed, yawning as he did so.
“My dearest,” he said, noticing how Nancy’s hand trembled, “there is
probably nothing at all to alarm anyone. Servants are always taking
fright. You have not been long at the head of an establishment of this
sort; if you had, you would not put yourself out simply on account of a
scared face. In all probability Vickers misses one of the spoons, and
thinks the gang of burglars who are haunting this neighbourhood have
broken into the house. I do wish the police would nab those fellows, in
order to give us all quiet nights.”
“I wish, Adrian, you would get up. I am quite convinced it is worse than
you imagine,” said Nancy.
She went into her dressing-room as she spoke.
To her surprise and consternation both Hester and Mrs. Ferguson were
waiting for her there. The housekeeper was on the verge of hysterics.
“The most frightful, awful thing has happened,” she cried; “we cannot
find Master Murray high nor low, and Vickers says some people meddled
with the safe last night. He says a lot of the plate and most of the
jewels are gone, and, oh, ma’am, look, look!”
Nancy turned quickly round. The housekeeper was pointing to her wardrobe,
which had been broken open. A glance showed her that her small private
jewel-case, the case in which she had put the pearls and diamonds, had
been abstracted.
“Don’t be so frightened,” she said to Mrs. Ferguson; “I’ll go back at
once and tell my husband. Of course the burglars will soon be caught. But
what did you say about Murray?”
“That is the worst of all, ma’am, to my thinking—the child is missing; he
can’t be found high nor low.”
“Murray missing! You must be dreaming,” said Nancy.
“No, I am not, ma’am; we have searched all over the place for him. He
never lay in his bed at all last night, the blessed lamb. Where he is
Heaven only knows.”
“Who saw him last?” asked Nancy.
“I did,” said Hester, suddenly coming forward.
She spoke with a catch in her voice; her face was deadly pale. She was
scarcely able to keep steady; and, staggering slightly, leant up against
the wall.
“Tell me everything, and be quick,” said Mrs. Rowton hurriedly, beginning
to dress as she spoke.
“I believe that I was the last person to see the young gentleman,”
replied Hester. “The fact is this, ma’am: I got a fright just between
ten and eleven last night soon after the ball opened. I saw, or fancied
I saw, a lady flitting about in the garden. You remember, ma’am, there
was a moon, but there were lots of black clouds, and the light was always
being shut away by the clouds going across the moon; but just for the
minute it shone out quite bright, and I distinctly saw a woman running
and stooping as she ran close to the laurel hedge. I seemed to recognise
the dress, and I thought at once that poor Mrs. Cameron had got loose. I
wanted to tell my master, for I knew it would be awful if she ran into
the ball-room. I made an excuse to get into the room, hoping that Mr.
Rowton might be somewhere within sight; but I only caught sight of Master
Murray, and it occurred to me that I would ask him to help me.”
“You did very wrong,” said Nancy; “you know, or you must know, that it is
not safe for the boy to be with his mother. Well, go on, be quick.”
“I had no time to think, madam, and besides, I am not supposed to know
anything.” Hester made an effort to give her head its old pert toss. “I
managed to get Master Murray out of the ball-room,” she continued, “and
I asked him to run across to the wing and tell Leah at once that Mrs.
Cameron had escaped. He ran off quite willingly. I gave him the key of
the postern door, which opens into the Queen Anne garden.”
“And the child has never come back? You must be making a mistake,” cried
Nancy.
“It is true, ma’am; alas! it is true,” sobbed Mrs. Ferguson. “I was over
with Leah this morning, and she says she never saw the boy, and never
heard him knock, and Mrs. Cameron did not escape at all last night, but
at the very time that Hester fancied she saw her, was sound asleep in
bed. Oh, I dread to think what has happened—burglars breaking into the
house, and the child gone, kidnapped most like. Oh, the plate and jewels
are nothing—it is the child.”
“Yes; it is the child,” said Nancy.
She had dressed herself now. The very magnitude and imminence of the
catastrophe which had suddenly overtaken her, gave her a certain feeling
of strength. She remembered that queer sense of being “fey” last night;
she remembered the words which she had spoken to her husband.
“Well,” she said, looking at the two terrified women, “you have done
right to tell me; don’t be over frightened; try and keep yourselves calm.
The boy will, of course, be found immediately. I’ll go now and tell Mr.
Rowton.”
She ran into the next room, but Rowton had already dressed and gone
downstairs. The direful tidings had, of course, been broken to him by
Vickers.
Nance at last came face to face with her husband in the butler’s
pantry. There a scene of the utmost confusion and destruction met her
astonished eyes. The celebrated Clever safe, which was supposed to be
proof against any burglar in the land, had been burst open by means of
certain explosives, which had probably been introduced through a joint
in the side. The safe had been nearly completely rifled of its contents.
The secret receptacle for the jewel case had been discovered, and the
splendid Rowton diamonds, with many other valuable and priceless jewels,
had disappeared; the gold plate had also completely vanished. In short,
the burglars had possessed themselves of many thousand pounds’ worth of
valuable goods.
“Here’s a wreck,” said Rowton, turning to Nance when she appeared. His
face was pale, and his underlip shook. “You see what this boasted safe is
worth, after all,” he continued.
“Yes, yes; but the jewels are nothing,” panted Nancy, “it is the child.
Who minds about the jewels or the plate? Oh, Adrian, it is Murray.”
“Murray!” cried the man; “what in the world do you mean? What has Murray
to do with this?”
“Nothing, of course,” said Nancy, tottering as she spoke, “only they seem
to have stolen him, too. He cannot be found anywhere; Murray is lost.”
For answer Rowton took his wife’s hand with that grip of iron which had
hurt her so much on the night of her arrival at the Heights.
“Come into my study,” he said in a voice which he scarcely recognised as
his own. He shut the door when he got there, and turned her round to face
him.
“Now, tell me everything,” he said.
“Why do you look like that?” she replied.
“Don’t mind my looks. Tell me everything, quickly.”
Nance repeated the story which Hester had told her.
“A plant!” muttered Adrian under his breath.
“What did you say, Adrian? I did not hear you.”
“The devil is in this job, Nancy,” he replied; “for Heaven’s sake, leave
me for a moment.”
“Do you really think any harm has happened to the little fellow?”
“Harm? God only knows. Would I had never been born. Leave me, wife; I
shall go mad if your innocent eyes look into mine a moment longer. I must
do something, and I must be alone.”