Produced by Charles Bowen from page scans provided by Google Books
Transcriber's Notes:
1. Page scan source: Google Books
https://books.google.com/books?id=0nrlugEACAAJ
(the Bavarian State Library)
COLLECTION
OF
BRITISH AUTHORS
TAUCHNITZ EDITION.
VOL. 1271.
WITHIN THE MAZE BY MRS. HENRY WOOD.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
WITHIN THE MAZE.
A NOVEL.
BY
MRS. HENRY WOOD,
AUTHOR OF "EAST LYNNE," ETC.
_COPYRIGHT EDITION_.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
VOL. II.
LEIPZIG
BERNHARD TAUCHNITZ
1872.
_The Right of Translation is reserved_.
CONTENTS
OF VOLUME II.
CHAPTER
I. The Maze invaded.
II. Recognised.
III. A new Lodger in Paradise Row.
IV. Nurse Chaffen on Duty.
V. Watching the House.
VI. At Afternoon Service.
VII. At Lawyer St. Henry's.
VIII. Another Kettledrum.
IX. Only a Night Owl.
X. One Day in her Life.
XI. Mrs. Chaffen disturbed.
XII. Baffled.
XIII. At Scotland Yard.
XIV. Ill-omened Chances.
XV. Ann Hopley startled.
XVI. Up the Spouts and down the Drains.
XVII. Taken from the Evil to come.
XVIII. News for Mr. Tatton.
XIX. Mrs. Cleeve at Fault.
XX. At the Red Dawn.
XXI. Laid to his Rest.
XXII. Repentance.
XXIII. Only a Man like other Men.
Conclusion.
WITHIN THE MAZE.
CHAPTER I.
The Maze invaded.
The previous night's black cloud had culminated in a thunder-storm,
and the morning air felt fresh and cool; but the blue sky was clear,
the sun as bright as ever.
Lucy came down with sad eyes and a pale face. Her night had been one
of mental pain. She was wondering how much longer she could keep up
this mask of cheerfulness--which she would especially have to wear
that day; and she knew that she could not have done it at all, then or
at any other time, but for the very present help of God. Karl, waiting
in the breakfast-room, turned to shake hands with her. But for their
being alone, he would not have ventured on this eminently suggestive
action.
"How are you to-day, Lucy?"
"Oh, quite well, thank you. Did you hear the storm?"
"Yes. It has cleared away some of the sultry heat. We shall have a
lovely day."
The Lloyds were expected from Basham. When at the flower-show the
previous day, Lucy had remarked that some of the hot-house plants were
not as fine as those at Foxwood: upon that, the General and one of his
daughters had simultaneously expressed a wish to see those at Foxwood.
Lucy at once gave the invitation; and it was arranged that they should
spend the next day at the Court. She had told her husband of this
while Captain Lamprey was present; but it had not been alluded to
afterwards. She spoke again now, while she and Karl were waiting
breakfast for Miss Blake, who was at Matins at St. Jerome's.
"I could not do less than ask them," she observed. "I hope you are
not vexed."
"You did quite right, Lucy," he cheerfully answered. "I shall be glad
to see them."
"I don't know how many will come. Perhaps all; except Mrs. Lloyd, who
never goes out anywhere. I hope Theresa will give up St. Jerome's for
the rest of the day, and stay at home to help me entertain them."
Karl smiled. "To make sure of that you should invite Mr. Cattacomb."
"But you would not like that, would you?"
"No. I was only joking, Lucy. Here she is."
The Lloyds had said they would come early, and Karl strolled out to
meet the eleven o'clock train, leaving his wife decorating her
drawing-room with flowers. Unhappy though Lucy was, she was proud of
her home, and pleased that it should find admiration in the eyes of
the world.
As Karl was passing Clematis Cottage, he saw Mr. Smith seated at the
open window, leisurely enjoying the freshened air, and smoking a
cigar. Karl had been wanting to take a close, observant view of him;
and he turned in on the spur of the moment. The asking for something
which he really required afforded an excuse. Mr. Smith rose up to
receive him graciously, and threw his half-smoked cigar out at the
window.
"I think you have the plan of the out-lying lands of the estate, Mr.
Smith, where the new cottages are to be built? Will you spare it to me
in the course of the day? I will send Hewitt for it."
"Certainly, Sir Karl; it is at your service. Won't you take a seat?
The bit of a breeze at this open window is quite refreshing."
Karl sat down. Mr. Smith's green glasses lay on the table, and he
could enjoy as clear a view of him as he pleased. The agent talked
away, all unconscious no doubt that notes were being taken of his face
and form.
"It is his own hair," mentally spoke Karl. "'Very dark brown,' they
said; 'nearly black.' Just so. At the time of the escape Salter had
neither whiskers nor beard nor moustache: the probability being, they
thought, that he had now a full crop of all. Just so, again. Eyebrows:
thick and arched, Grimley said: these are not thick; nor, what I
should call, arched: perhaps there may be some way of manipulating
eyebrows, and these have undergone the process. Eyes brown: yes. Face
fresh and pleasant: yes. Voice and manners free and genial: yes.
Age?--there I can't make the two ends meet. I am sure this man's
forty. Is it Salter, or is it not?" finally summed up Karl. "I don't
know, I _think_ it is: but I don't know."
"Truefit the farmer spoke to me yesterday, Sir Karl," broke in Mr.
Smith on his musings. "He was asking whether you and Lady Andinnian
viewed this new farce on his grounds with approbation. That's what he
called it--farce. Meaning St. Jerome's."
"I suppose he does not like it," observed Karl.
"I fancy he does not really care about it himself, one way or the
other, Sir Karl; in fact, he signified as much. But it seems his
better-half, Mrs. Truefit, has taken a prejudice against it: calling
the ceremonies 'goings-on,' and 'rubbish,' and 'scandal,' and all
sorts of depreciating things. It is a pity Mr. Cattacomb can't confine
himself to tolerable common-sense. The idea of their hanging that bell
outside over the door, and pulling it perpetually!"
"Yes," said Karl. "So much nonsense takes all solemnity away."
"They are going to dress Tom Pepp in a white garment now, while he
rings it, with a red cross down the back. It's that, I fancy, that has
put up Mrs. Truefit. I told the farmer that I believed Sir Karl and
Lady Andinnian did not favour the place: at least, that I had never
seen them attend it."
"And you never will," returned Karl, as he rose.
There was nothing to stay for; his observations were taken, and he
departed, having to walk quickly to be in time at the station. Had he
been free in mind the matters connected with St. Jerome's might have
vexed him more than they did: but all annoyances were lost sight of in
his one great care.
The train came in, and the party arrived by it; six of them. Captain
Lloyd, who was at home on leave; two Miss Lloyds; a married sister and
her husband, Mr. and Mrs. Panton, at present staying on a visit; and
the General.
Karl had expressed pleasure at his wife's invitation; perhaps had felt
it; but he could not foresee the unlucky contretemps that the visit
was to bring forth. To his unbounded astonishment, his inward
confusion, no sooner had his guests entered Foxwood Court, than they
expressed a wish to see the place called the Maze, and requested Sir
Karl to conduct them to it.
"I was telling Panton about the Maze last night--talking of the Court
and its surroundings," observed the General. "Panton does not believe
it possible that one could lose oneself in any maze whatever: so I
promised him he should have a try at it. You will afford us the
opportunity of seeing it, Sir Karl."
"I--I am not sure," stammered Karl, utterly taken aback, while his
wife's face flushed a burning red. "I hardly think it is in my power,
General. The lady who inhabits it desires to keep herself so very
quiet, that I should not feel justified in intruding upon her. She is
not in strong health, I believe."
"But we would not think of disturbing the lady," called out all the
voices together. "We only wish to see the maze of trees, Sir Karl: not
the dwelling-house. What's her name?"
"Grey."
"Well, we shall not hurt her. Does she live by herself?"
"While her husband is abroad. I am sure she will not choose to be
intruded upon."
Sir Karl might as well have talked to the winds. All opposed him. Of
course there was no suspicion that _he_ had any personal objection;
only that he wished to respect the scruples of his lady-tenant. At
length, the General declared he would go over to Mrs. Grey, ask to see
her, and personally prefer the request. Poor Karl was at his wits'
end. He saw that he should not be able to stem the storm--for he dared
not be resolute in the denial, so fearful was he always of arousing
any suspicion of there being a mystery in the place--and he was fain
to yield. He would take them over, he said; but not before he had sent
a note to say that they were coming. This he insisted on; it would be
but common politeness, he urged; and they all agreed with him.
Hastily writing a few words to Mrs. Grey in his own room, he called
Hewitt to take the note over, and gave him at the same time a private
message to deliver to Ann Hopley. Of course Karl's object was to warn
his brother to keep out of sight--and Mrs. Grey too. Hewitt looked
more scared than his master.
"To think of their wanting to go over _there!_" he exclaimed in a low
tone of covert fear.
"It can't be helped, Hewitt. Go."
A few minutes, and Hewitt came back with a message: which he delivered
to his master in public. Mrs. Grey's compliments to Sir Karl
Andinnian, and he was at liberty to bring his friends within her gates
if he pleased. So they all started; Lucy with them.
Lucy with them!
The ladies had assumed it to be so much a matter of course that
their hostess should accompany them, that Lucy, timid in her
self-consciousness, saw not her way clear to any plea of excuse. And
it might be that, down deep in her woman's frail heart, there was a
hankering longing to see the inside of that place which contained her
rival. In the midst of her indecision she glanced at Karl and
hesitated. But he saw not the look or the hesitation: for all the sign
he gave out, she was as welcome to go to the place as these guests
were. It is true that Miss Blake fixed her eyes upon her, and Lucy
coloured under it; but perhaps the very fact only served to speed her
on the way.
The party started, passing out at the grand gates of Foxwood. Between
that spot and the Maze, short though it was, they encountered Mr.
Cattacomb. Miss Blake took upon herself to introduce him, and to ask
him to accompany them, saying they were going to see that renowned
show-place, the Maze.
"I did not know we had a show-place in the neighbourhood," drawled Mr.
Cattacomb in his affectation.
"Neither have we," curtly rejoined Sir Karl, who would willingly have
pitched Mr. Cattacomb over a mile elsewhere, but did not see an excuse
for doing it. "The Maze was never constituted a show-place yet, Miss
Blake. I feel anything but comfortable at intruding there to-day, I
assure you. Between my wish to gratify my friends, and my fear that it
may be objectionable to the occupant of the Maze, I am in a blissful
state of uncertainty," he added in a laughing kind of way, for the
general benefit, fearing he might have spoken too pointedly and shown
that he was really ill at ease.
"Sir Karl is ultra-sensitive," remarked Miss Blake--and a keen
observer might have fancied there was some sarcasm in her tone.
Karl rang the clanging bell--which might be heard far and wide; and
Ann Hopley appeared, the key of the gate in her hand. She curtsied to
the company as she admitted them.
"My mistress desires me to say, Sir Karl, that she hopes the
gentle-people will see all they wish to see," cried the woman aloud,
addressing the rest as much as she did Sir Karl. "Mrs. Grey begs they
will pardon her not appearing to welcome them, but she is not well
to-day, and has to keep her room."
"Mrs. Grey is very kind," returned Sir Karl. "We shall be cautious not
to disturb her."
They filed of their own accord into the maze. The old trees had not
been so beset with gay tongues and laughter for many a day. One ran
here, another there; they were like school boys and girls out for a
holiday. Ann Hopley was about to follow them in when the clanging bell
at the gate once more sounded, and she turned back to open it. Karl,
never at rest--as who could be, knowing what he knew--looked after her
while he talked with the rest; and he saw that the visitor was a
policeman.
His heart leaped into his mouth. Careless, in the moment's terror, of
what might be thought of him, he broke off in the middle of a sentence
to the General, and returned to the gate. His face was never very
rosy, but every vestige of colour had forsaken it now. At a collected
moment, he would have remembered that it was not in _that_ way his
brother would have been sought out--in the person of one solitary
unarmed policeman--but fear scares probability away: as Rose had
observed to him only the previous evening. Worse than all, the rest
came flocking to the gate after him.
"Grey, ain't it?" the policeman was saying to Ann Hopley. He had a
paper in his hand and a pencil.
"Mrs. Grey," replied the servant.
"Mrs. Grey. There ain't no husband, I think?"
"No."
"What's her Chris'en name?"
A warning glance shot from Sir Karl's eyes, cautioning Ann Hopley to
be on her guard. In truth it was not needed: the woman was caution
itself, and had her ready wits at hand always. Karl saw what it
was--some parish paper about to be left--and was recovering his inward
equanimity.
"My mistress's Christian name? Mary."
"Mrs. Mary Grey," repeated the policeman, writing down the name on the
paper. "You'll please to give it her," he added, handing the paper in.
"It have got to be attended to."
"All tax-papers for Mrs. Grey must come to Foxwood Court," interposed,
Sir Karl. "Mrs. Grey takes the house furnished, and has nothing to do
with the taxes."
"Beg pardon, Sir Karl, but that there's a voting-paper for a poor-law
guardian," said the man, touching his hat.
"Oh, a voting-paper. Let it go in then," concluded Sir Karl. Mrs. Grey
had no more to do with voting than she had with taxes; but Sir Karl
let it pass.
They were in the maze again; Ann Hopley having wound herself out of
sight with the paper. Mr. Panton, the disbeliever, wound _himself_ in
and out of the trees and about the paths; but the voices always guided
him back again.
"What a delightful place, Sir Karl!" cried Mrs. Panton. "Quite like a
Fair Rosamond's Bower."
Sir Karl laughed in reply. And--as Miss Blake noticed--there was not a
trace of shame in his face. Lucy's colour, though, rose painfully.
"Let me see! it was a silken thread, was it not, that guided Queen
Eleanor to her rival?" continued Mrs. Panton. "A cruel woman! I wonder
whether she carried the bowl of poison in her hand?"
"I wonder if the woman who destroyed the Queen's happiness, had any
forewarning in her dreams of the fate in store for her?" retorted Miss
Blake, sharply--for she was thinking of another case, very near to
her, that she judged to be analogous. "For her punishment, it is to be
hoped she had."
"Oh, but you know she was so lovely, poor thing! One can but pity her;
can we, Lady Andinnian?"
"I know nothing of it," spoke Lucy, in so chafed a tone that Karl
turned to look at her.
"My opinion is, that the King should have taken half the bowl," said
Miss Blake. "That would have been even justice, Mrs. Panton."
"Well, well, judge it as you will, Fair Rosamond was very beautiful;
and her fate was shocking. Of course the Queen was incensed;
naturally: and the crime of poisoning in those days was, I suppose,
looked upon as no crime at all. I have always wished the Queen had
been lost in the maze and the poison spilt."
"Suppose we get lost in this one!"
It was Miss Lloyd who spoke, hurriedly and somewhat anxiously. It
brought most of them around her.
"There is no danger here, is there? Sir Karl, you know the way out, I
suppose?"
Karl evaded the question. "If the worst come to the worst, we can set
on and shout," he observed.
"But _don't_ you know the clue? Is there not a clue? There must be!"
"I see nothing of the kind," returned Karl. "You forget that I am
almost a stranger in the neighbourhood. We shall be all right. Don't
fear."
How Lucy despised him for his deceit! She felt that he must have the
clue: why else need he let himself within the gate with his key--at
least, with any purpose of finding his way further in after it? Miss
Blake caught her eye; and Lucy turned away, sick at heart, from the
compassion Miss Blake's glance wore.
Sir Karl's "Don't fear" had been reassuring, and they dispersed about
the Maze and lost themselves in it, very much as Miss Blake had once
done. Mr. Cattacomb kept asking questions about the mistress of the
Maze: why she lived there alone, where her husband was: for all of
which Sir Karl could have struck him. He, Karl, would have contrived
to keep them from the boundaries near the house: but they were as nine
to one, and went whither they would: and, as had been Miss Blake's
case, they got within view of it at last.
"What a pretty place!" was the involuntary exclamation from more than
one.
It did look pretty: pretty and very cheerful. The windows of the house
were open; the door of the porch was fastened back, as if to invite
entrance. Not a sign or symptom existed of there being any cause for
concealment.
So far good, and Karl felt satisfied. But, as his eyes went ranging
far and wide in their longed-for security, there was no doubt that he
somewhere or other caught sight of his imprudent brother; for his face
changed to an ashy paleness, and he groaned in spirit.
"Adam is surely mad," was his mental cry.
Ann Hopley, who had probably been waiting about, stepped up at this
moment, and asked with much civility if they would like to walk
indoors and rest. Sir Karl, looking at his friends, as if for
acquiescence in his denial, declined. "We have _no right_ to intrude,"
he whispered: and the General said so too.
"This might really do for a Rosamond's Bower!" cried Mrs. Panton. "It
is a sweetly pretty place."
The lawn was level as a bowling-green; the flowers and shrubs
surrounding it were well-kept, fragrant, and blooming. Mounted on a
ladder, nailing some branches against a wall that probably belonged to
a tool-house, was the toothless old gardener, his knees swollen and
bent, his white smock frock rolled up around him.
"That's the gardener at his work, I suppose?" observed the General,
whose eyes were dim.
"Yes, that's Hopley," said Karl.
"What d'ye call his name; Sir Karl?"
"Hopley. He is the woman's husband."
"I had a servant once of that name when I was quartered at Malta. A
good servant he was, too."
"That man yonder looks ill," remarked Mrs. Panton.
"I fancy he is subject to rheumatism," said Sir Karl. "How is your
husband?" he enquired of Ann Hopley.
"Pretty middling, sir, thank you," she answered. "He is getting in
years you see, gentlefolks, and is not as strong as he was."
"Will you be so good as precede us through the Maze and let us out,"
said Karl to her. "I think it is time we went," he added to the
others: "we have seen all there is to see."
Ann Hopley, key in hand, went winding through the Maze, in and out of
the numberless paths. It seemed to those following, her that they only
went round and round--just as it had seemed to Miss Blake that former
day; and it took some time to get through it. The Reverend Mr.
Cattacomb called it "a pilgrimage."
She was crafty, that faithful woman. Just as she had led Miss Blake a
needlessly roundabout way, so she led them now. Had she taken them
direct through, who knew but they might have caught some inkling of
the clue? While opening the gate, General Lloyd would have put
half-a-crown into her hand. She would not take it.
"I'd rather not, sir; I've done nothing to merit it. Our mistress pays
us both well. Thank you, sir, all the same."
"A good, respectable, honest servant, that," remarked the General,
slipping the money into his pocket again.
Crossing the road from the Maze, the party came right in view of
Clematis Cottage and Mr. Smith, who was leaning over the gate of it
and staring with all his might. He raised his hat to the ladies
generally, and then accosted Sir Karl, saying he had taken the plan,
asked for, to the Court.
"Thank you," replied Karl.
"Who _is_ that man?" cried Captain Lloyd with some energy as they went
on. "I am sure I know him."
"His name's Smith," replied Karl. "He is a sort of agent on my
estate."
"Smith--Smith! I don't recollect the name. His face is quite familiar
to me, though. Where can I have seen it?"
Karl longed in his heart to ask whether the face had ever belonged to
the name of Salter; but he did not dare. There had been a peculiar
expression in Mr. Smith's eyes as he spoke to him just now, which Karl
had read rightly--he was sure Smith wanted to speak to him privately.
So, after the rest had entered the home gates, he turned back. The
agent had not stirred from his place.
"What have those people been doing there, Sir Karl?" he asked, with a
peremptory action of his hand towards the Maze.
Karl explained. He did not dare do otherwise. Explained in full.
"Curious fools!" cried the man angrily. "Well, no harm seems to have
been done, sir. Seeing you all come out of the gate, I could not
believe my eyes, or imagine what was up."
"I fancied you wished to speak to me, Mr. Smith."
"And so I do, Sir Karl. The letters were late this morning--did you
know it? They've only just been delivered. Some accident, I suppose."
"I only know that none came to Foxwood Court this morning."
"Just so. Well, Sir Karl, I've had one; ten minutes ago. I wrote to
make inquiries about that paragraph, in the newspaper, and this letter
was the answer to mine. It is as I thought. There's nothing known or
suspected at all at headquarters; neither at Scotland Yard nor
Portland Island. It was the work of the penny-a-liner, hang
him!----just an invention, and nothing else."
"To whom did you write?"
"Well, that's my business, and I cannot tell you. But you may rely
upon what I say, Sir Karl, and set your mind at rest. I thought you'd
like to know this, sir, as, soon as possible."
"Thank you," replied Karl.
He went back to his guests, his brain busy. Was this true, that Smith
said? Who then was Smith that he could get this information? Or, was
it that Smith was saying it for a purpose?