THE RUIN AND THE LONELY HOUSE
Just that one cry, ringing wild and plaintive through the wood; and
then silence, broken by a loud, angry rumble of thunder.
Ralph stood there trembling, too agitated to speak; and his two chums
turned anxiously towards him, bewildered at the change which had come
over him.
"Ralph, old fellow, why, whatever is it? What has come to you?" they
asked; and he replied in hoarse, trembling tones--
"That call! Did you not hear it? There is only one person who would
give that, and he is my own father."
For a moment they were staggered by his answer; then Warren said
gently--
"But, Ralph, how can it be your father? It was only the echo, old
fellow."
"It was not the echo. It was his voice. Listen--try and hear where it
comes from!" And once again, through the dripping wood, he sent the
Indian cry.
"Now, listen--listen!" he said; and they waited, but no sound came in
answer--nothing but the shiver of the trees, the patter of the rain,
and the distant growling of the storm.
"There, you see. It must have been the echo!" said Warren; but Ralph
shook his head.
"Do not be silly, Warren. If it was the echo it would be heard again;
but we heard nothing."
Which direction did it come from? They forgot about the wet and the
storm; they forgot everything in the excitement of the moment. Which
direction had the cry come from?
Warren declared that it sounded as if it was under ground; Charlton
said he fancied that it came from high up, as if some one was in the
air; and Ralph fancied that it was straight ahead.
"What shall we do?" was the question of Warren and Ralph answered--
"I am going forward. I mean to search this plantation from end to end,
if I am trespassing twenty times over."
So on the three went, and again and again did they pause while Ralph
uttered his wild call, but no answer was heard.
They pushed on, their hearts full of excitement, until they emerged
from the trees with almost startling suddenness. The plantation was
nothing like so thick as they had thought--it was a mere belt of wood,
surrounding a neglected lawn; and in the centre of this, encircled by
a wall, stood the very last thing they would have expected to find
there--a house.
A house; but so dreary, desolate looking. All the windows stared blank
and empty, and were encrusted with dirt and grime. Not a trace of smoke
curled up from the chimney-stack, not a sound of life was heard. It
seemed empty, desolate, drear; and the masses of creeper, hanging down
and swinging in the breath of the storm, only intensified the desolate
picture it made.
The three lads, standing there with every nerve thrilled by a strange,
inexplicable excitement, surveyed the place, and looked at each other
in questioning silence, until Warren said softly--
"Well, I am blest! Who would have thought of finding a house here?"
"Where are you going, Ralph?" cried Charlton, for Ralph was moving
forward; and he replied firmly--
"To that house. I mean to see if any one lives here."
Right up to the wall walked Ralph. It was a high wall, and only the
upper part of the house could be seen above it. But they found a gate
on the other side; and, without a moment's hesitation, Ralph pushed
it open, entered the garden, and, walking up to the door, lifted the
knocker.
With what a dull, hollow sound did it fall! A ghostly sound, that
echoed through the house, with that peculiar vibration which is heard
when a place is empty.
"There is no one here," whispered Warren, after a pause--somehow they
found themselves speaking in whispers. "The house is empty."
Ralph, for answer, knocked again, a louder and longer summons.
"Listen!" he said; and from somewhere they heard a faint sound, as of a
door being shut.
"It's only the wind, making a door slam," was Warren's comment. But,
for the third time, Ralph sent his call resounding--there was no
mistake about that knock--if any one was in the place they must hear
it, for the door fairly creaked beneath the blows.
Another pause, a shuffling noise from within, the sound of some one
coming from distant passages, then the unfastening of bolts and chains,
and the door was opened a little space, while a man, big, burly, and
brutal looking, filled the doorway, and barred their entrance--an
altogether evil-looking, cruel-faced man, who, scowling upon the three
lads, demanded in gruff tones what they wanted, and how it was they
were here.
Just for the moment the three were taken aback; or, brave as they might
be, still they were only lads, and that scowling presence was certainly
very ominous. But Ralph plucked up his courage, and answered that
they were three lads from the distant school, and that they had been
overtaken by the storm and were seeking shelter.
The man had stood glaring from one to the other as the explanation was
given; and then he said, in the gruffest of accents--
"Well, and what is all this to me? That is no reason why you should
trespass on my land, and come knocking at my door. I don't want to know
that you are getting wet. It's no interest of mine, is it?"
"But we are seeking for shelter," persisted Ralph. "Surely you will not
refuse to give that to us?" And he made a slight attempt to push his
way in. The man gave him a shove that sent him almost off the step.
"Here, none of that sort of thing," he said, "or you will be sorry for
it, my young bantam. You don't think that you can shove your way into
my premises. You three just take yourselves off. You are trespassing on
my ground; and it's lucky for you that the dog is tied up, or he would
tear you limb from limb. Hear him!" And he paused, as a deep, distant
baying was heard from somewhere within. "He is a beauty big enough to
eat you. You just get off as fast as you can. Clear! If you are here in
five minutes time I will set the dog on you!" And he slammed the door,
and left them standing there.
"What a particularly unpleasant person!" said Warren. "His politeness
is only exceeded by his good looks. Come on, Ralph, it won't do any
good to stand here; and I don't fancy a meeting with that loud-voiced
brute we heard. He had got a bark like a bloodhound."
"We had better do as Warren says," added Charlton, a trifle timidly,
for he could understand how badly Ralph must feel. "I know what you are
thinking of. You want to see inside that house, but it is impossible
now. If it is done at all, it would have to be some other time, when
that man did not suspect us. Only I don't think that you are right. I
don't see how you can be."
"I shall never rest until I have contrived some way of doing as you
say," was Ralph's reply, and his face looked very resolute again. "That
cry was raised by my father. He may not be there--I do not say he
is, but somehow I dislike that man and distrust him. Let us go right
through the grounds. Don't you understand, Warren? I want to see if
there are any other places hidden away here. Who would have said a
house like that was here; and who can say what other house may be here?
You go back if you like, you and Charlton; I am going on."
"Then on we all go," was Warren's reply; and he and Charlton
accompanied Ralph.
They crossed the lawn and went out by the gate, and Ralph was conscious
of the face of that man peering at them through one of the upper
windows. He might be a recluse, a miser, a madman--that seemed the most
probable thing; and yet, yet somehow Ralph must get inside that house.
They pushed their way on into the wood again, making for the opposite
side to that on which they had entered; and then Ralph's words that
they did not know what else they might find were proved to be very
true, for, upon its farther side, bordering upon a stretch of wild
open land, they came upon a ruined building. It looked as if at one
time it had been a chapel, or monastery, or something of that sort;
the pillars, the pointed windows, and the arched doors gave them that
impression. It was a fairly large building, larger than the house they
had left, and its crumbling walls were thickly overgrown with ivy. A
mournful, silent ruin it was, where only the shapes and shadows of
those whose feet had once trodden its stone floors now seemed to lurk;
but it was a shelter, and in Ralph went.
"I don't care for twenty men and dogs," he said resolutely. "I am not
going on in this rain, and I am going to have a look in this ruin."
"But you do not think that you will find any trace of your father
there, Ralph," protested Warren.
"I don't, old man; I only hope for shelter. Come on. If the worst comes
we will get on the stairs and drive off the dog with stones. Come on."
It looked gloomy outside--it looked more gloomy within, as they passed
in through the yawning space where once a stout oak door had been. How
their footsteps echoed, and how great piles of damp, decaying leaves
lay in the corners, and ugly lizards scuttled away as they went on.
But, for all that, after the first disinclination was got over, there
was something very exciting in wandering about the ruin, exploring
this way and that, going down into dark, oozy places underground, or
clambering up into the old, deserted turret above, at the no small risk
of breaking one's neck. They wandered here and there, until at last a
single ray of sunlight, falling through a broken casement, awoke them
to the fact that the storm was over, and that they could get on their
way again.
"We had better go, Ralph," said Charlton. "I must, for think how mother
will feel if I am not home when she expects me."
"Well, I don't think it is much good staying," Warren added. "It seems
impossible that your father should be about here, Ralph. That sound was
an echo."
"I suppose it must have been something of that sort," Ralph admitted
reluctantly. "There seems to be no other explanation. You must forgive
me for seeming stupid; but, you see, it--it is my father!" He stopped
and Charlton pressed his hand sympathetically, while Warren said
hastily--
"Oh, of course, old fellow, I understand; and I only wish that we could
have found something out. What a stunning place this ruin would be for
hiding in! You could play hide-and-seek about it for a week!"
They emerged from the place, and speedily were in the public road again
and walking, with their faces in a homeward direction. But as they went
Ralph turned, and once again he uttered that wild signal cry; and then,
then--was it an echo, or was it indeed a human voice?--after a pause,
faint and low the sound came back once more--whether from earth, or
from air, they knew not; but the cry was taken up and repeated note for
note.