A MYSTERY SOLVED.
Spring had come round again, the spring of the year succeeding that in
which the events recorded in these pages took place.
It was about the middle of May when Sir Everard Clinton, to whom any
long stay in London had always been distasteful, suddenly made up his
mind to revisit Garion Keep. It was a matter of course that his nephew
and his nephew's wife should accompany him, for Burgo and Dacia had
been married early in the new year, and had spent a short honeymoon in
the Riviera. Sir Everard's home, wherever it might be--and he had
always been of a somewhat roving disposition--was theirs also. He
liked to have Burgo under the same roof with him; only then did he
feel safe, only then could he rid himself of an uneasy fear that at
some unexpected moment he might be confronted by his wife, who, he
seemed to think, was ever on the watch--lying perdu, like a spider in
a corner of its web--to take him unawares. What might or would have
happened in case such an eventuality had come to pass, he did not try
to imagine. The bare possibility of such a thing was enough to scare
him.
But indeed there seemed no valid reason for anticipating any such
unwelcome proceeding on her ladyship's part. She seemed to have
vanished as completely beyond the horizon of Sir Everard's life as if
she had never existed. After their parting that night at the Keep, so
far as was known, she made no attempt to trace his whereabouts;
neither, later on, when he was back in Great Mornington Street, if she
knew he was there, did she make any effort to intrude herself on his
presence. One token, and one only, of her existence was forthcoming in
due course. A lawyer, instructed by her, waited one day upon Mr.
Garden with the view of ascertaining the nature of the baronet's
pecuniary intentions towards his client. That they proved to be
satisfactory may be taken for granted, seeing that no complaint to the
contrary was ever lodged with Mr. Garden. From certain private
information which reached Mr. Brabazon some time later, he had reason
to believe that her ladyship had taken up her permanent abode in
Florence, the English colony of which delightful city was greatly
exercised in its mind as to whether it ought to welcome her with
effusion as an unquestionable acquisition, or quietly turn towards her
that shoulder which is termed cold.
Sir Everard's sixty-fourth birthday came and went in due course. It
was kept by him, not as a festival, but rather as an occasion for
devout thankfulness, as on the part of one who had providentially
escaped a great danger. When, a little later, Mrs. Macdona's legacy of
fifteen thousand pounds was paid over to him, he at once gave
instructions for the whole amount to be transferred from his own
banking account to one which he caused to be opened in the name of his
nephew. When telling Burgo what he had done, he added: "Had it not
been for you, my boy, I verily believe my span of life would have run
out by now. In no case would the money have come to me: it would have
gone to her, and after that--_Mais parlous d'autres choses_. I want
you to regard the money as a thank-offering from your old uncle--a
very inadequate one, he admits, considering all he owes you. Besides,
you are a married man now."
Mr. Garden had been right in his supposition that Sir Everard had
engaged another lawyer to draw up the fresh will rendered necessary by
his marriage, in which, with the exception of a legacy of five
thousand pounds to his nephew (which he had made a point of insisting
upon) everything he might die possessed of was bequeathed to his wife.
But Sir Everard had not been many hours at Hazeldean before he
telegraphed to Mr. Garden to join him there, and next day a final will
was drawn up, the provisions of which were widely different from those
of the previous one.
So Sir Everard, together with his nephew and niece, journeyed down to
Cumberland.
But Burgo had not been more than a couple of hours at the Keep when he
received a telegram from Mr. Garden which recalled him south without
delay. Mr. Denis Clinton was dead. He had died at Worthing, whither
his doctors bad ordered him some months before. Mr. Brabazon, as a
legatee under his uncle's will, was invited to the funeral, as also to
the subsequent reading of the will. The dead man's lawyer, not knowing
where a letter would find Mr. Brabazon, had communicated with Mr.
Garden.
Sir Everard was not invited to the funeral, and he decided not to
attend it. His brother and he had virtually been strangers to each
other for the last twenty years or more, and he saw no reason why he
should undertake a journey of three hundred and fifty miles--and the
same distance back--in order to be present at the obsequies of a man
who had shown no brotherly regard for him while alive. So Burgo went
alone.
Greatly to his surprise, when the will came to be read he found
himself a legatee to the tune of five thousand pounds. The reason
given by his uncle for thus remembering him was an eccentric one;
"Because he has never sought me out to flatter me, or sponge on me,"
ran the clause, "and because he has never asked me to lend him a
sixpence." With the way in which the remainder of the property was
left we are not concerned.
The demise of Mr. Denis Clinton left Burgo Sir Everard's direct heir
both to the title and the entailed estates.
Burgo got back to the Keep late at night after Sir Everard had
retired. At breakfast next morning, after he had pretty well exhausted
his budget of news, he said; "By the way, sir, have you been over the
Wizard's Tower since you came down here?"
The baronet shook his head. "My exploring days are over," he said.
"Still, I have heard so much about the place, that I should not object
to go over it with somebody who knows the ins and outs of the old
pile; in short, if I visit it at all, I must be personally conducted."
"Then I'm the man for the job, sir, for who should know more about it
than I? Indeed, if you will go over it after breakfast this morning
with Dacia and me I shall be glad. I have a special reason for wishing
you to do so."
Accordingly the three of them presently set out for the tower by way
of the underground passage. When they emerged from it into what might
be termed the entrance-hall of the tower, where, it may be remembered,
was the door by which admittance was gained from the outside, Burgo,
having pointed out the gap in the wall made by Marchment's men,
conducted his uncle and Dacia upstairs to the room which had served
for his prison. Everything apparently was just as he had left it. One
of the window-bars lay on the floor; the other, nearly filed through,
was still in its place. The crockery, containing the remnants of the
last meal Mrs. Sprowle had brought him, was still on the table. And
there were the few poor sticks of furniture, and the oaken door with
its sliding panel and broken lock. The eyes of Burgo and his wife met
more than once. What memories the room and its contents brought back
to them Sir Everard was intensely interested in everything.
Then they went back downstairs. But first Burgo pointed out another
flight of stairs, which doubtless led to a room over the one he had
occupied; but they left the exploration of that for another time.
"And now," said Burgo, when they were once more on the ground-floor,
as he proceeded to light a hand-lamp he had brought with him, "I must
ask you to follow me through this hole in the wall, which is at the
head of a flight of steps leading down to a cavern open to the sea.
There can be no reasonable doubt, as it seems to me, that the
underground passage leading to the Keep and this other passage leading
to the cavern were bricked up, and all traces of them as far as
possible obliterated, at one and the same time; but by whom, and for
what purpose, it would now be useless to inquire."
Having passed through the gap, Burgo led his uncle slowly and
carefully down the steps--for since his illness Sir Everard had not
been so active on his feet as he had been before it--while Dacia
brought up the rear, till they came to the chamber of which mention
has been already made as being hollowed out of the body of the cliff.
But this chamber, as Burgo proceeded to prove to the others, was but
the ante-room to another nearly twice as spacious. "I think," he said,
as he held his lamp aloft, "that it is not difficult to guess as to
the use this place was put to in bygone days. At all events, I can
come to no other conclusion than that it was used as a storage place
for smuggled goods."
"You axe right, my boy; it could have been intended for nothing else,"
said the baronet emphatically.
"In that case," remarked Dacia, "bearing in mind that this place had
an opening into the tower, and that there was an underground passage
from the latter to the Keep, it would almost seem as if the owners or
tenants of the Keep, whoever they may have been, must themselves have
been in the smuggling line of business."
"By Jove!" laughed the baronet, "you seem to have hit the right nail
on the head, my dear. But I believe that in those days smuggling was
regarded as a very venial offence, whether indulged in by gentle or
simple. Probably, if we had lived a hundred years ago, we should have
been tarred with the same brush ourselves."
Burgo now led the way down the remaining flight of steps which led
directly into the cavern. The iron grille was still open as he had
seen it last.
It had been night when Burgo was there before. It was now broad
daylight outside, and the cavern was pervaded by a faint yellowish
twilight which might be in part a reflection from the sandy floor. It
widened out from a narrow mouth, but was neither very large nor very
lofty, and probably its existence was due in part to Nature and in
part to man's handiwork. It was nearly ebb tide, and from the mouth of
the cavern to low-water mark there intervened a stretch of yellow
shining sand. Noticing this, Sir Everard said: "The smugglers, if such
they were, can hardly have considered their hiding-place a very secure
one, seeing that whenever the tide was out it must have been open for
any one to enter it from the beach."
"It seems to be so, but it was not so in reality, neither is it now,"
replied Burgo. "That beautiful, innocent looking stretch of beach on
which the sun just now is shining its brightest, is neither more nor
less than a treacherous quicksand which would inevitably engulf any
one who might be rash enough to attempt to reach the cavern by way of
it when the tide is out. Many a grim secret lies buried in its
unfathomed depths."
Dacia shuddered.
"All this is news to me," said the baronet. "Dacia, my dear, you were
talking the other day about going for a ramble along the sands, but
after what your husband has told us about them I hope you will think
twice before doing so."
"I shall indeed, uncle." Then, turning to Burgo, she said, "You have
told us a great deal about this old building and the uses to which it
was put in days gone by. I suppose you will be telling us next that
Mr. Marchment was a smuggler?"
Burgo laughed. "That's just what he was, my dear--after a fashion.
Singularly enough, Marchment and I tumbled across each other yesterday
at the London terminus. He had half an hour to spare and we spent it
together. Now, when I said this morning that I had a special object in
asking you to explore the tower with me, it was that I might tell you
here on the spot, in order that you might be able to realise the facts
more clearly, that which he told me yesterday. Of course it was he who
introduced the subject, not I. He began by asking after each of you,
and he did not fail to congratulate me on my marriage. Then he went on
to say that doubtless we had often wondered and speculated as to the
nature of the business in which he was engaged at the time he made our
acquaintance after so singular a fashion. Although the affair was
still a secret from the world and would continue to be so, the
necessity for the same amount of secrecy no longer existed--at least,
as far as we three were concerned although he was desirous that
whatever he might confide to us should go no further. It appears,
then, that the _Naiad's_ errand at Crag End was to take on board,
secretly of course, a considerable quantity of arms and ammunition
which for some time past had been stored up in that chamber in the
cliff which I showed you just now, awaiting Marchment's arrival."
"Arms and ammunition! God bless my heart!" ejaculated Sir Everard.
"I may say at once that he did not tell me by whose or what agency the
arms and ammunition had first been stored in the chamber, nor did I
conceive it my business to ask him. His part of the affair was to
convey the articles in question to some pre-arranged point on the
Irish coast and there land them with the same amount of secrecy with
which he had taken them on board."
"But why couldn't he do all that quite openly? demanded Dacia.
"Because it is forbidden to land arms and ammunition in Ireland except
at certain specified ports, and then only with the knowledge and
sanction of the Customs officials. As Marchment explained, they were
needed for the 'Cause'--whatever the term may mean--and could only be
obtained secretly and surreptitiously."
"We owe a great deal to our friend Marchment, Burgo, my boy," said Sir
Everard, "but for all that I shall consider it my duty to take such
steps as will secure the tower from being used as a depot for the
storage of any kind of contraband goods in time to come."
"I hope you made Mr. Marchment promise to come and see us when we get
back to town?" said Dacia.
"At the present moment, my dear, Marchment is _en route_ for South
America. He is longing for a little quiet fighting, he says, and he
thinks there's a chance of his meeting with it there."
THE END.