A Discovery
After the delightful dissipation of a whole day's holiday, Miss Birks
demanded a period of solid work from her pupils, and deeming that she
had sufficiently satisfied their craving for excitement, took no notice
of either hints or headaches, but enforced preparation and practising
with, as Dulcie expressed it, "a total lack of all consideration".
Dulcie, never a remarkably hard worker at any season, was more than
usually prone to "slack" in summer, and it needed the combined energies
of Miss Birks, Miss Harding, and Mademoiselle to keep her up to the
mark. It was more than ever necessary to maintain the standard at
present, for examination week was drawing near, and this year several
extra prizes were offered for competition. Mrs. Trevellyan had promised
a beautiful edition of Tennyson's poems for the best paper on English
literature, the Vicar added a handsome volume of _Pictures from
Palestine_ for the most correct answers to Scripture History, and
Mademoiselle herself proffered a copy of _Lettres de mon Moulin_ for the
most spirited declamation of any piece of French poetry not less than
two hundred lines in length, the quality of the accent to be
particularly taken into account. These were in addition to the usual
annual rewards for mathematics, languages, English history, music,
drawing, and needlecraft, so that among so many various subjects each
girl might feel that she had at least some chance of winning success. At
the eleventh hour the Principal announced that a prize would be given
for general improvement.
"That's to make slackers like you buck up, Dulcie!" declared Annie
Pridwell.
"Really, I wish Miss Birks would offer a prize for pure English," said
Jessie Macpherson, who happened to overhear. "The slang you VB talk is
outrageous. Your whole conversation seems made up of 'ripping' and
'scrumptious' and 'spiffing' and other silly words that don't mean
anything. I tell you, slang's going out of fashion, even at public
schools, and you're behind the times."
"Don't be a prig, Jessie. What else can I call Dulcie except a slacker?
Am I to say she shows a languorous disinclination for close application,
and advise her to exert her mental activities? It would sound like a
'Catechism' from a Young Ladies' Seminary of a hundred years ago!"
"There is one comfort in having worked badly," admitted Dulcie. "If I
make a spurt now, I shall show more 'marked improvement' than if I'd
been jogging along steadily all the time."
"Ah, but the tortoise won the race while the hare slept!" retorted
Jessie.
In view of the forthcoming music examination, practising was performed
with double diligence, and from 6 a.m. to 8.30 p.m. the strains of
Schumann's "Arabesque", Tschaikowsky's "Chanson Triste", or
Rachmaninoff's "Prelude", the three test pieces, echoed pretty
constantly through the house, in varying degrees of proficiency.
"It's a good thing nobody belonging to the school has to do the
judging," said Emily Northwood, as she stood in the hall listening to
the conflicting sounds of three pianos. "Even Miss Birks must be so sick
of these particular pieces that she could hardly express a fair opinion
on them. Dr. Harvey James will come fresh to the fray."
The organist and choirmaster of the collegiate church at Wexminster,
being a doctor of music, was regarded as a very suitable examiner for
the occasion, and even if his standard proved high, all at least would
have the same chance, for he had not visited the school before, and
therefore could regard nobody with special favour. He was a new resident
in the district, and Miss Birks hoped next term to arrange for him to
come over weekly and give lessons to her more advanced pupils, who would
be likely to appreciate his musical knowledge and profit by his
teaching.
The thought of having to play before their prospective music master
spurred on most of the girls even more than the chance of the prize;
they dashed valiantly at difficult passages, counted diligently, and
loosened their muscles with five-finger exercises, each anxious to be
placed in the rank of those sufficiently advanced to be transferred to
his tuition. The drawing students also, though they could not practise
specially for their own prize, were busy finishing copies and sketches
for a small exhibition of work done during the school year, which was to
be held in one of the classrooms during examination week, and criticized
by Mr. Leonard Pearce, an artist who had consented to set and judge the
competition. Miss Harding was urging increased attention to mathematics,
Miss Birks was giving extra coaching in history and English literature,
Mademoiselle was hacking away at languages till her pupils almost wished
that French and German were as dead as ancient Egyptian and Assyrian, so
it was a very busy little world at the Dower House, so busy that really
nobody had time to think of anything else. The Principal, anxious to
keep her flock in good health, insisted upon the recreation hours being
devoted to definite exercise, and either games or organized walks under
the supervision of a mistress were compulsory.
For the present there was no strolling about the warren in "threesomes",
there were no visits to the headland, or rambles on the beach. The girls
grumbled a little at this lack of their accustomed freedom, complained
that set walks reminded them of a penitentiary, and declared that to be
obliged to play cricket took all the fun out of it. They thrived on the
system, however, and were able to manage the increased brain work
demanded from them without incurring the penalty of headaches,
backaches, or loss of appetite. A few certainly pleaded minor ailments
as an excuse for shirking, but Miss Birks's long experience had taught
her to distinguish readily between real illness and shamming, and she
dismissed the would-be invalids each with a dose of such a nauseous
compound as entirely to discourage them from seeking further sympathy.
Her bottle, a harmless mixture of Turkey rhubarb and carbonate of
magnesia, might have been a magic elixir for the relief of all diseases,
for with the same marvellous rapidity it cured Francie's palpitations,
Irene's dyspepsia, and Elyned's attacks of faintness.
"Nasty, filthy stuff!" declared the indignant sufferers, who, with a
remembrance of Miss Birks's treatment of the measles patients, had
fondly expected to be coddled and cosseted, regaled on soda-water and
lemonade, and forbidden to overexert themselves.
"Serve you right!" chuckled their friends. "It's your own faults, for
you couldn't expect Miss Birks to believe in your whines when you look
in such absolutely rude health, and compass your meals so creditably.
Why didn't you refuse all solid food?"
"Oh no, thank you!"
"And declare cocoa made you shudder?"
"That's beyond a joke."
"If anybody looks ill in this house," continued Annie, "it's
Mademoiselle. She's pale and thin, if you like, and eats next to
nothing, but she doesn't make any fuss about it."
Noticeably Mademoiselle's increased work and anxiety on behalf of her
pupils' success had a bad effect on her health. She looked worn and
overdone, and there were dark circles round her tired eyes. Though she
did not complain, she confessed to being troubled with sleeplessness.
Night after night she lay awake till daybreak, and was sometimes only
dropping into a doze when the getting-up bell clanged in the passage.
"_Nuits blanches_ may be all very well in music, but they are not
pleasant when one experiences them," she confided to Miss Harding. "When
I stay waiting for sleep, I hear many curious sounds. Yes--such as one
does not hear during the daylight."
"A house is always full of creaks and groans if one stays awake at
night," returned Miss Harding. "You mustn't mind them."
"During the day I smile at them," continued Mademoiselle, "but if I keep
vigil I am nervous. Yes, to-night I shall be very nervous, for Miss
Birks will be away. I like not that she be away."
It was very seldom that the Principal gave herself a holiday during the
term, but for once she was going to London to attend an important
educational meeting, and would spend the night in town. She started by
an early train, leaving her small kingdom in perfect order, and
confident that for so short a space of time nothing could possibly go
wrong. Certainly nothing ought to have gone wrong; her arrangements were
excellent, and Miss Harding was thoroughly capable of acting deputy
during her absence. Yet there is an old proverb that "while the cat's
away the mice will play", and the mere fact that she was not on the spot
made a difference in the school. The girls did not give any trouble, but
there was a feeling of relaxed discipline in the air.
At four o'clock, instead of going straight from their classroom to their
practising, Deirdre and Dulcie decided to indulge in the luxury of a run
round the grounds first. They walked briskly through the shrubbery, down
the steps, and along the terrace, till they came to the kitchen-garden.
Now this kitchen-garden was absolutely forbidden territory to the girls,
and they had never been inside it. To-day the gate, which was generally
locked, stood temptingly open. It seemed an opportunity too good to be
resisted. With one accord they threw rules to the winds, and decided to
explore.
A thick and high holly hedge effectually screened this corner of the
grounds from wind, and guarded it from intruders. It was a warm,
productive plot of land, and entirely provided the school with fruit
and vegetables. Deirdre and Dulcie did not trouble about the currants
and gooseberries, but kept straight down the path. They wished
particularly to investigate the far end. Here the garden abutted on the
cliffs, which sloped downward in a series of zigzag ridges.
The girls made their way gingerly over a freshly-prepared bed of young
cabbages to the borderland where rhubarb and horse-radish merged into
wormwood and ragwort. It was perfectly easy to slip over the edge and
begin to go down the first long shelving slab of rock. There was a drop
of about four feet on to the second shelf, which again sloped downwards
at a gentle level to a third. Here the cliff ended in a precipice, so
steep that even the most experienced climber could not descend without a
rope. Rather baffled, the two girls crept cautiously along the edge,
then Deirdre suddenly gave a whoop of delight, for she had spied a rough
flight of steps cut in the surface of the rock, and evidently leading to
the beach below. It was rather a cat's staircase to venture upon, but
they were possessed with a thirst for exploration, and were not easily
to be daunted. Deirdre went first, and shouted encouragement to her
chum, and Dulcie picked up heart to follow, so that in the course of a
few minutes they found themselves safely on the sands at the bottom.
"Whew! It's like climbing down the ladder of a lighthouse," exclaimed
Dulcie, subsiding on to a convenient stone. Her legs were shaking in a
most unaccountable fashion, and her breath coming and going far more
rapidly than was comfortable.
"It might have been worse," affirmed Deirdre, trying not to show that
her nerve had in any degree failed her, and surveying the scene with the
eye of a prospector.
They were in a small and very narrow cove, so hidden between cliffs
which jutted out overhead that it was practically invisible from above,
and certainly could not be seen from anywhere in the school grounds. It
was a pretty little creek, with a silvery slip of beach, and green
clumps of ferns growing high up in the interstices of the rocks; quite a
romantic spot, so beautiful and secluded that it might almost be the
haunt of a mermaiden or a water nixie. The ferns, which were flourishing
in unusual luxuriance, caught Deirdre's attention.
"I believe it's the sea-spleenwort," she remarked. "Don't you remember
we found some at Kergoff, and Miss Birks was so excited about it? I'm
sure she doesn't know all this is growing at the very bottom of her own
garden. I'll try and get a root."
To obtain a root was more easily said than done, however. Most of the
clumps of fern were in very inaccessible situations, and too deeply
embedded in the rock to be removed. Deirdre climbed from one to another
in vain, then noticing a particularly fine group of fronds on a
projecting shelf far above her head, commenced to scale the cliff. She
reached the shelf fairly easily, but instead of setting to work to try
to uproot the fern, she gave a long whistle of surprise.
"What's the matter?" asked Dulcie from below.
"Matter! Come up yourself and see! Oh, goody!"
Dulcie was still a little shaky, but spurred on by curiosity she got up
the cliff somehow, and added a "Hallo!" of amazement to her chum's
exclamations. Facing them was the entrance to a cave. At one time it had
evidently been carefully blocked up, but now the wooden boarding that
guarded it had been wrenched asunder, leaving a small opening just
sufficient to enter by. The girls peeped cautiously in, but beyond the
first few yards all was dark. This was indeed a discovery. The mouth of
the cave was so effectually hidden by the crags which surrounded it that
nobody would have suspected its existence who had not come across it by
accident. What secrets lay in its mysterious depths, who could say?
Thrilled with excitement, the girls turned to one another.
"If we could only explore it!" breathed Dulcie.
"We're going to!" returned Deirdre firmly. "I shall run back this
instant to the house for a candle. You wait here."
Deirdre's impatience made short work of the cat's staircase. She
scrambled up the rocks like a squirrel, and was soon racing up the
kitchen-garden. To secure her bedroom candle and a box of matches was
the work of a few minutes. As she pelted impetuously downstairs again,
she nearly fell over Gerda, who had been doing preparation in the
schoolroom, and scattered the pile of books she was carrying.
"Do be careful," said the latter in remonstrance. "Where are you going
in such a hurry? And what do you want with your candle?"
"Never you mind! It's no business of yours!" retorted Deirdre, running
away without even an apology.
Gerda picked up her books and carried them upstairs, but instead of
continuing her preparation she went to the window. She was just in time
to catch a glimpse of Deirdre vanishing down the kitchen-garden. The
sight seemed to afford her food for thought. She stood for a moment or
two lost in indecision, then, evidently making up her mind, she set off
in pursuit of her school-fellow. Deirdre, meanwhile, returned to the
cove with speed and agility, and found Dulcie waiting where she had left
her.
"I had a horrible feeling that a monster might come out while you were
away!" she declared. "Do you think we dare go in?"
"Dare? Of course we dare! I'm not going to have fetched this candle for
nothing. Dulcie Wilcox, where's your pluck? Come along this minute, or
I'll not be chums with you again. Here, you may hold the matches."
Having lighted the candle, the two girls stepped through the breach in
the wooden barricade, and commenced their exploration. The passage, high
at first, soon lowered till it was little above their heads, and
narrowed to a width of barely three feet. The walls, which for the first
ten yards were worn as if by the action of the sea, became more jagged,
and had plainly been hewn out with the aid of a pick, the natural cavern
having been greatly extended. Here and there the floor was wet, and the
roof showed an oozy deposit as if some surface spring were forcing
itself through the strata of the rock. On and on the girls went for two
hundred yards or more, Deirdre going first and holding the candle well
in front of her, so as to see the way. It was delightfully exciting, yet
there was a thrill of horror about it, for who could tell what might be
lurking round the next corner? Dulcie's nerves were strung to such a
pitch that she was ready to scream at the least alarm. Not a sound,
however, broke the dead silence. The passage in its lonely calm might
have been the entrance to an Egyptian tomb.
"Does it lead anywhere?" whispered Dulcie. "Oh! hadn't we better turn
back? We've gone far enough."
"I'm going to the end, if it's in Australia!" replied Deirdre, and
having possession of the candle, she was in a position to dictate.
A few extra yards, however, concluded their journey, the passage being
once again blocked by a wooden barrier. This was more carefully
constructed than the one at the entrance, being made of well-planed
timber, and fitted with a door, which stood half-way open, and led into
a rough kind of chamber, rather resembling the crypt of a church. At the
far side of this there was a small closed door.
"Well, we've got into a queer place!" exclaimed Deirdre. "Must have been
a smuggler's cellar, I should say. No doubt they used to keep kegs and
kegs of brandy down here in the good old days. Look, the roof is vaulted
over there! Where does that door lead to?"
The little door in question had apparently been opened by force, to
judge from the broken lock and the marks of some sharp instrument on the
jambs. At present it was closed, but not fastened. What lay beyond? With
a feeling that they had arrived at the crowning-point of their
adventure, Deirdre opened it and peeped in. She found herself looking
down from an eminence of about four feet into a bedroom. The room was in
complete darkness, for the window was barred with heavy wooden shutters,
but by the aid of her candle she could see it was unoccupied. Giving the
light to Dulcie to hold, she cautiously descended, then aided her chum
to follow. The door through which they had stepped formed part of the
panelling over the mantelpiece, and when closed with its original spring
would no doubt have been indistinguishable from the rest of the
woodwork. The room, though neglected and in great disorder,
nevertheless bore traces of recent habitation. The bed, with its tumbled
blankets, had certainly been slept in. On the dressing-table, spread out
on a newspaper, were the remains of a meal. A small oil cooking-stove
held a kettle, and one or two little packets, probably containing tea
and sugar, lay about. On the floor, torn into small pieces, were the
shreds of a letter written in German. Dusty and untended as it was now,
the room must once have been pretty, and bore strong evidence of the
ownership of a little girl. On the walls hung framed colour prints of
Millais's "Cherry Ripe", "Little Mrs. Gamp", "Little Red Riding Hood",
and "Miss Muffet". In the corner stood a doll's house, a doll's cradle,
and a miniature chest of drawers. A chiffonier seemed to be a repository
for numerous treasures--a set of tiny alabaster cups and saucers, a
glass globe which when shaken reproduced a snowstorm inside, a
writing-desk, a walnut work-box, a small Japanese cabinet, and a whole
row of juvenile books. Deirdre took up some of the latter, blew the dust
off and examined them. They were volumes of _Little Folks_ and
_Chatterbox_ of many years ago. On the title-page of each was written:
"To darling Lillie from Father and Mother".
In greatest amazement the girls wandered round the room, looking first
at one thing, then at another. How old the dust was that mostly covered
them! Here and there it had been hastily swept away, to make a
clearance for cup and saucer or provisions, but in general the little
possessions were untouched. Even some New Year cards stood on the chest
of drawers, bearing greetings and good wishes for the coming season.
"I want to see better," said Deirdre. "This wretched candle only gives
half a light. I've never been in such a fascinating place. Help me,
Dulcie, and we'll try and unfasten the shutters."
The heavy iron bar was old and rusty. It must have been in its place for
many a long year. For some time the girls pushed and tugged in vain,
then with a mighty effort they dislodged it from its socket, and let it
clatter down. Deirdre slowly swung aside the shutter. After the faint
light of their one candle, the flood of sunshine which burst in
completely dazzled them. As soon as they could see, they peeped out
through the dingy panes of glass. To their immense surprise they found
they were looking into the Dower House garden. Then Deirdre suddenly
realized the truth.
"Dulcie! Dulcie!" she cried, "I verily believe we're in the barred
room!"
There seemed little doubt about the matter, when they came to consider
it. The position of the window corresponded exactly with the closed-up
one which had always faced them from the tennis-courts, and whose secret
they had so often discussed. The mystery, instead of becoming clearer,
seemed only to deepen. Why was one of the bedrooms in the Dower House
filled with a child's possessions and sealed with iron bars, yet
accessible from a cave on the beach, and evidently in present
occupation?
The daylight revealed its extraordinary condition with great clearness;
the dust, dirt, and cobwebs looked forlorn in the extreme. On a hook on
the door, which presumably led into the Dower House landing, hung a net
filled with hard wooden balls, and as the draught blew in from the
opening over the fireplace, these swayed about and knocked with a gentle
rapping against the panel.
"There's your ghost, Dulcie," said Deirdre. "That was the tap-tapping
you heard in the passage. It wasn't a spook after all, you see."
"You were just as scared as I was," protested Dulcie. "I think I'm
rather scared now. Let's go! Suppose whoever's been here making tea were
to come back? I believe I'd have hysterics."
There was something in Dulcie's suggestion. It had not before occurred
to Deirdre that it would be unpleasant if the owner of the kettle were
to return and demand an explanation of their presence.
"We must put the shutters back," she decreed.
This was easier said than done, but after considerable trouble they
managed to restore the room once more to its former state of darkness.
Their candle was burning rather low, but they hoped it would be
sufficient to light them to the mouth of the cave. With the aid of a
chair they climbed on to the mantelpiece, passed through the door in the
panelling to the vaulted chamber, and on into the subterranean passage.
They scurried along as fast as they could without stumbling, partly from
fear that the candle would go out, and partly in dread lest somebody
should be coming from the entrance, and meet them on the way. It was
with a feeling of intense relief that, bearing the last guttering scrap
of candle, they at length emerged into the daylight.
"Here we are, safe and sound, and met no bogy, thank goodness!" rejoiced
Dulcie.
"There's our bogy, waiting!" said Deirdre, pointing to a school hat
which suddenly made its appearance from below.
"Gerda, by all that's wonderful!" gasped Dulcie.
Yes, it was Gerda who had followed them, and who now watched them as
they came out of the cave. She was paler than usual, and there was a
queer set look about her mouth.
"So that was what you wanted the candle for. You might have told me,"
she remarked.
The two girls began an animated account of their strange adventure. They
were so full of it that at the moment it would have been impossible to
avoid talking about it. Gerda listened calmly, though she asked one or
two questions. She spoke with the constrained manner of one who is
putting a strong control on herself.
"So you found nothing to explain the mystery?" she queried.
"Nothing at all. Is it Lillie who's living there and doing her own
cooking?"
"And is she a girl or a spook?" added Dulcie.
"Spooks don't drink tea. She must be alive," said Deirdre. "I wonder if
Miss Birks knows about her?"
"I guess we'd better not divulge the secret!" chuckled Dulcie.
"What would Miss Birks say to us for trespassing in the
kitchen-garden?--particularly when she's away."
"We should get into a jolly row!" agreed Deirdre.
"We shall all three get into one as it is if we don't go back quickly,"
observed Gerda.
Rather conscience-stricken, the chums obeyed her suggestion. They were
fortunate enough to slip from the kitchen-garden without being observed,
and hoped their escapade would not be discovered. After tea they hurried
to make up arrears of practising, but Gerda, evading the vigilance of
Mademoiselle, gave an excuse to Miss Harding and absented herself from
preparation. Stealing very cautiously from the house she dived through
the shrubbery and ran out on to the warren. Casting many a hasty glance
behind her to see if she were observed, she hurried along till she
reached the little point above St. Perran's well where a rough pile of
stones made a natural beacon, easily visible from the sea or from the
beach below. Taking her handkerchief from her pocket she tied it to a
stick, which she planted at the summit of the pile. Waving in the breeze
it was a conspicuous object. She watched it for a moment or two, then
walked back along the cliff with the drooping air of one who is almost
ready to collapse after meeting a great emergency.
"It was a near thing--a near thing!" she muttered to herself. "Suppose
they'd met? Oh, it's too horrible! It was too risky an experiment,
really! I hope my danger signal's plain enough. I must get up early
to-morrow and take it down before anyone from the school sees it. It'll
be difficult with those two in the room--but I'll manage it somehow.
Fortunately they're both sound sleepers!"