Raymonde Explores
There was no doubt that Marlowe Grange was one of the quaintest old
houses in the county. The girls all felt that its mediaeval atmosphere
was unrivalled. Even such prosaic subjects as geometry or analysis
took on an element of romance when studied in an oak-panelled chamber
with coats of arms emblazoned on the upper panes of the windows. It
was the fashion in the school to rejoice in the antique surroundings.
The girls took numerous photos, and printed picture post-cards to send
home to their families and friends, and everyone with the least
aptitude for drawing started a sketchbook. Like most ancient
buildings, the old hall, while preserving its principal rooms in good
repair, was growing shaky in the upper stories. The labyrinth of
attics that lay under the roof had been neglected till the latticed
windows were almost off their hinges, and the plaster had fallen in
great patches from the ceilings. Fearing lest the worm-eaten floors
were really unsafe, Miss Beasley had made the top story a forbidden
territory, and, to ensure her orders being obeyed, had placed a wire
door to shut it off from the rest of the house. This door was kept
locked, Miss Beasley and Miss Gibbs each having a key. Every day,
girls pressed inquisitive noses against the wire netting to peep at
the tantalizing prospect beyond. They could just see round the corner
of a winding oak staircase on to a dim, mysterious landing beyond.
Once or twice Miss Gibbs had gone to her attic laboratory and had left
the door open behind her, and a few bold spirits had ventured
upstairs, but, as the door of her room had also been wide open, they
had not dared to pass it and risk discovery, and had been obliged to
beat a hasty retreat. It was highly aggravating, for the vista of dark
passages looked most alluring.
"Couldn't we ask the Bumble to take us round the attics some Saturday
for a special treat?" suggested Ardiune.
"'Twouldn't be much fun going in a specially conducted party like a
crowd of tourists!" sniffed Raymonde. "We'd all have to stand at
attention while the Bumble gave a short lecture on the architecture or
the historical significance of some thingumbobs. It would just turn it
all into a lesson. What I want is to go and poke about on my own; and
I mean to some day!"
"Gibbie'd snap your head off if she caught you!"
"I don't intend to be caught."
It was all very well to lay plans, but another matter to carry them
out. Miss Gibbs usually locked the wire door behind her, only leaving
it open when she went upstairs to fetch something and meant to return
almost immediately. The mere fact of its difficulty increased
Raymonde's zest for the adventure. Her wild, harum-scarum spirits
welcomed the element of possible danger, and the imminence of
discovery added an extra spice. For days she haunted the vicinity of
the winding staircase, hiding in bedrooms and watching, in case Miss
Gibbs went to her laboratory. Twice she watched the mistress pass
through the wire door and lock it safely behind her, quite unaware of
the outraged pupil fuming in No. 3 Dormitory opposite. Raymonde
reiterated her old opinion that Miss Gibbs was far too exact and
conscientious.
On one eventful afternoon, however, fortune favoured her. No less a
person than Miss Beasley ascended the interesting staircase, actually
leaving the defences unsecured. Raymonde seized the opportunity, and
like a little ghost or shadow stole softly after her. The head
mistress had entered the laboratory, and had closed that door after
her. Raymonde tiptoed up to it, and could hear voices inside, the
whirling of a wheel, and a kind of bubbling sound. Was Miss Beasley
assisting Miss Gibbs with the alchemy? She did not wait even to take a
survey through the keyhole, but, hurrying on, turned the corner of the
passage.
She found herself in another long, narrow landing, with rooms on both
sides. She peeped into most of these. They were empty, and in a
deplorable state of disrepair. Plaster had fallen from the ceilings,
showing the rafters; in some places, even streaks of daylight shone
through chinks in the tiled roof. The worm-eaten old floors had rotted
into holes, and Raymonde had to walk warily to avoid putting her foot
through in tender places. Many of the rooms had cupboards--dark,
mysterious, cobwebby recesses--into which she peered with a rather
jumpy sensation that a bogy might suddenly pop out. The whole
atmosphere of the place was ghostly, even in the daytime.
"I shouldn't like to come up here at night!" shivered Raymonde.
As far as she could tell, the passage seemed to be leading her round
the house. It turned several corners, and ended in a long gallery.
This looked more cheerful, for the sun shone in through the large end
window and brightened the cracked old walls. She danced along the
floor with quite a return of high spirits.
"I wish the Bumble would let us come up here on wet days. It would be
a glorious place for games, nicer by far than the barn. I call it mean
of her to lock up all this part of the house. We'd have absolutely
topping fun! I say! what's that little door over there?"
The door in question was very small, and quite low down on a level
with the floor. Raymonde went on her hands and knees to investigate.
It was secured with a bolt, which she easily opened. To her surprise,
she found herself looking out upon the roof. Whether it had been
constructed in past days to provide a means of escape from danger, or
merely to allow workmen to replace loose tiles, it was impossible to
say. It was certainly within the bounds of probability to imagine a
Jacobite, with a price set on his life, creeping through the little
opening to find a more secure hiding-place among the twisted chimneys,
while King George's soldiers searched the mansion below.
Raymonde put her head out. The roof sloped steeply up in front. To a
girl of her temperament the temptation to explore farther was
irresistible. She squeezed through the small door, and wriggled out on
her hands and knees on to the tiles.
She was in the angle of a small gable. She could see roof all round
her, and sky above. Still on hands and knees, she began to creep
upwards. The weather-beaten old tiles had mellowed to dull red and
orange, and were partly covered with moss. She could not help admiring
the artistic beauty of their colour. She reached the ridge, and peered
over. Apparently she was somewhere in the middle of the roof, for a
tall, twisted stack of chimneys reared itself close by, and gables
spread on all sides. She went cautiously down the next incline, and up
to the summit of a further ridge, which was higher. Here, by standing
up and holding on to a chimney ledge, she had an excellent view. She
could not see the courtyard, but she could command the bottom of the
orchard, the moat, the fields that led to the river, and the cliffs
and woods beyond. It was quite a bird's-eye prospect. She seemed to be
looking on to the top of everything. The cattle in the meadows
appeared mere specks, and a cart and horses passing over the bridge
were like a child's toy. It was fascinating to watch them vanishing
down the road.
Raymonde was in no hurry to return. She stood for quite a long time
enjoying an exhilarating sense of being on the summit of a mountain.
At last the recollection that it must be nearly preparation time
recalled her to the necessity of departure. With a sigh of regret she
dropped back on to the ridge, and crawled over the gables again. She
was sure that she had left the little door open behind her, but when
she approached it she saw that it was shut. Perhaps the wind had blown
it to. She put out her hand to fling it open, but it did not yield.
She pushed harder, pressing with all her force. It remained immovable.
Then the awful truth burst upon her. Somebody had latched the door on
the inside, and she was locked out upon the roof. Had Miss Beasley or
Miss Gibbs been taking a survey of the attics? No matter who it was,
the horrible result remained the same. What was she to do? She beat
wildly at the door, hoping to break it in, but sixteenth-century oak
and bolts were made of stuff too strong for a girl's hands. She
shouted and called, knowing all the time that it was of little avail.
Whoever bolted the door must have gone away. Miss Gibbs's laboratory
was at the other side of the house, and she might scream herself
hoarse without anyone hearing her. For a minute or two she sat huddled
up in despair. Would she have to spend the night on the roof?
It was a ghastly prospect. Hot tears came welling up, but she dashed
them away angrily. Her innate pluck rose to the surface. She had been
in difficult, even dangerous positions before, and had escaped. Surely
there must be some way out of this?
"I'll climb farther on over the roof," she decided. "If I can get
nearer the edge, perhaps someone may see me."
The chance of rescue meant admitting her adventure, and incurring
great wrath at head-quarters, but that was a lesser evil than passing
a night on the roof. She crawled to her old vantage-ground, and
descended to the right, where a gable sloped steeply. At the bottom
she passed along a wide gutter, and, rounding a corner, found that she
could easily drop on to a lower portion of the roof. She was in a
state of tense excitement. Where was she getting to? Would anybody see
her from the courtyard; and if so, how would they propose to rescue
her? It would be difficult to shout down and explain that she had come
through the little door in the upper gallery. She was on a much lower
level now than when she had first started. She crawled on, with hands
and knees rather sore and scraped with the tiles.
Another corner, and another short drop. She was nearing the edge of
the parapet. She must creep down this next piece of roof. There was
another wide gutter at the bottom. She walked along this, rounded a
jutting chimney-stack, and then paused with a cry. Facing her was a
small door, identical with the one by which she had emerged. Could it
possibly be open? She stumbled up to it, and pressed it with trembling
fingers. It yielded easily. The next moment she was creeping through.
Raymonde now found herself inside a cupboard full of old lumber. The
dust was thick, and surely had not been disturbed for years. Some
broken chairs with moth-eaten seats were piled together, and some
ancient boxes lay full of rubbish. Straw, old books, hanks of rope,
and other miscellaneous things occupied the corner. There was a door
opposite, without either latch or knob. Raymonde with some difficulty
managed to pull it open, and stepped out into a passage. When she
pushed the door to behind her, she noticed that it fitted so exactly
into the oak panelling as to be quite undiscernible. Could it be a
secret cupboard? She wondered if Miss Beasley knew of its existence.
There was a window close by; she looked out and took her bearings.
Apparently she was just over the big dormitory; the tiles across which
she had crawled to enter the cupboard must have been those of Miss
Gibbs's bedroom. The landing where she found herself at present led to
the servants' quarters; the staircase was to her right.
Raymonde hurried down without meeting anybody, washed the dust and
dirt off her hands, and walked in to preparation in the very nick of
time.