"What the dickens does it all mean?" thought Guest wonderingly, as he
followed into Stratton's chambers, with a strange feeling of expectancy
exciting him. Something was going to happen, he felt sure, and that
something would be connected with his friend. And now he began to
regret bitterly having urged on the quest. It had had the effect of
rousing Stratton for the moment, but he looked horrible now, and Guest
asked himself again, what did it mean?
The sergeant looked sharply round Stratton's room, and noted where the
chamber lay; but his attention was at once riveted upon the fireplace
with its two doors, and he walked to the one on the right, seized the
handle, and found it fast.
"Yes," he said, "been open once, but closed, I should say, for many
years."
"Want it opened, pardner?" said his companion.
"Not that one," said the sergeant meaningly; and he went to the door on
the left, Stratton watching him fixedly the while, and Guest, in turn,
watching his friend, with a sense of some great trouble looming over
him, as he wondered what was about to happen.
"Hah! yes," said the sergeant, who began to show no little excitement
now; "fellow door sealed up, too."
Guest started and glanced quickly at his friend, who remained drawn up,
silent and stern, as a man would look who was submitting to a scrutiny
to which he has objected.
The sergeant shook the door, but it was perfectly fast, and the handle
immovable.
"Some time since there was a way through here," he said confidently;
and, as he spoke, Guest again gazed at Stratton, and thought of how
short a time it was since he had been in the habit of going to that
closet to fetch out soda water, spirits, and cigars.
What did it mean? What could it mean, and why did not Stratton speak
out and say: "The closet belongs to this side of the suite."
But no; he was silent and rigid, while the sense of a coming calamity
loomed broader to mingle with a cloud of regrets.
He was trying to think out some means of retiring from the scrutiny, as
the sergeant turned to his companion and said a few words in a low
tone--words which Guest felt certain meant orders to force open the
closet door, which, for some reason, Stratton had fastened up, when the
sergeant spoke out:
"Now, gentlemen, please, we'll go back to the other chambers."
Guest drew a deep breath, full of relief, for the tension was, for the
moment, at an end.
He followed with Stratton, whose eyes now met his; and there was such a
look of helplessness and despair in the gaze that Guest caught his
friend's arm.
"What is it, old fellow?" he whispered; but there was no reply, and,
after closing the door, they followed into Brettison's room, where the
sergeant stood ready for them with his companion.
As they entered, the man closed the door and said sharply:
"You're right, gentlemen; there has been foul play."
A cold sweat burst out over Guest's brow, and his hair began to cling to
his temples. He once more glanced at Stratton, but he did not move a
muscle; merely stood listening, as if surprised at the man's assertion.
"There have always been two cupboards here, made out of these two old
passages, and this one has been lately fastened up."
"No, no," said Stratton, in a low, deep tone.
"What, sir! Look here," cried the man, and he shook one of the great
panels low down in the door, and the other higher. "What do you say to
that? Both those have been out quite lately."
Stratton bent forward, looking startled, and then stepped close up to
the door, to see for himself if the man was correct.
The lower panel was certainly loose, and could be shaken about a quarter
of an inch each way, but that seemed to be all; and looking relieved he
drew back.
"Nonsense!" he said. "Absurd!"
Guest looked at him sharply, for the voice seemed to be that of a
stranger.
"Not very absurd, sir," replied the sergeant. "This door was made two
or three hundred years ago, I should say, and the old oak is shrunken
and worm-eaten. I could easily shove that panel out, but there's no
need. Here, Jem, try and open the lock the regular way."
Stratton's lips parted, but he said no word; and, as the second man
strode up to the door with his tools, the sergeant went on:
"I thought it was a mare's nest, sir, and even now I don't like to speak
too fast; but it looks to me as if the poor gentleman had been robbed
and murdered, and whoever did it has hidden the body in here."
A curious cry escaped from Stratton's lips, and he gazed fiercely at the
officer.
"That's it, sir," said the man. "It's a startler for you, I know,
living so close, but I'm afraid it's true. Well, Jem, what do you make
of it?"
Guest looked as if he had received a mental blow, as idea after idea
flashed through his mind. Stratton's manner suggested it--his acts of
late, the disappearance of Brettison on the wedding day, the large sum
of money on the table, the mad horror and despair of the man ever
since--it must be so; and he felt that here was the real key to all his
friend's strange behaviour.
He wiped the cold moisture from his brow, and stared at Stratton, but
his friend was standing rigid and determined, watching the actions of
the two men, and Guest had hard work to suppress a groan, as he felt
that his companion would owe to him the discovery and the punishment
that would follow.
Just then Stratton turned and saw that he was being watched; but, as if
all attempts at concealment were hopeless, he smiled faintly at his
friend and then turned away.
The workman had not made any reply, and the sergeant spoke again as a
large picklock was thrust into the keyhole again and again.
"Rusted up?"
"Ay, and eaten away; there hasn't been a key used in that lock in our
time, pardner. But stop a minute; more ways of killing a cat than
hanging of her. Let's have a look."
He began to examine the edge of the door, and then turned sharply round.
"Look here," he said; and then taking hold of the antique door knob, he
lifted it and the whole of the front bar or rail came away--a piece of
narrow wood six feet long.
"Split away from the tenons," he said; and the sergeant uttered an
ejaculation, full of eager satisfaction.
"There, gentleman," he said, pointing. "One--two--three--four bright
new screws. What do you say now?"
There they were plain enough, close to the door frame, and Guest uttered
a low sigh as he supported himself by the back of a chair.
"Out with 'em, Jem," cried the sergeant excitedly, and, a large
screw-driver being produced from the tool bag, the screws were attacked,
and turned easily, the man rapidly withdrawing them and laying them one
by one on the mantel-shelf.
"They haven't been in very long," he muttered, raising one to his nose.
"Been rubbed in paraffin candle, I should say."
He began turning another, while the sergeant gave Guest the lantern to
hold while he went and picked up the piece of candle they had found at
first.
"Not all teeth marks, gentlemen," he said; "the candle was used to ease
those screws."
There was a pause then, for the man was at work on the last screw, and
as he turned, Guest arrived at the course he should pursue. Stratton
was ignoring the fact that the closet belonged to his room; he must, for
his own sake, do the same. He could not give evidence against his
friend; for there it was plain enough now, and if Stratton had been
guilty of Brettison's death, he was being bitterly punished for his
crime.
The last screw fell on the floor, and was picked up and placed with the
others. Then the man stood with his screw-driver in his hand.
"Prize it open?" he said. The sergeant nodded, and on forcing the edge
of the screw-driver in the crack between the inner half of the bar and
the jamb, it acted as a lever, and the door gave with a faint creak, but
as soon as it was a couple of inches open the man drew back.
"Your job now," he said.
The sergeant stepped forward; Stratton stood firm, as if carved in
stone, and Guest closed his eyes, feeling sick, and as if the room was
turning round, till a sharp ejaculation made him open his eyes again to
see that the sergeant had entered with his lantern, and was making it
play over the panels of the inner side of the farther door.
"That's the old door leading into the place, I suppose, sir?" he said.
"Yes."
Guest started again, the voice sounded so strange, but he was gaining
courage, for there was the familiar dark bathroom, viewed from the other
end, with the cigar box on the shelf close to the door in company with
the spirit-stand. Beneath the shelf there were three large four-gallon
tins, which were unfamiliar, and suggested petroleum or crystal oil;
there was a mackintosh hung on a peg, looking very suggestive; an
alpenstock in a corner, with a salmon and trout rod. Guest saw all this
at a glance, and his spirits rose, for there was no ghastly scene upon
which to gaze.
Then his spirits sank to zero again, for there was the oblong of the
inclosed bath occupying the left of the long, narrow place, and only
just leaving room for anyone to pass.
He shuddered, and at that moment the sergeant took hold of the edge of
the mahogany lid to raise it, but without success.
"Fast," muttered the latter; and he held the light to the glistening
French-polished mahogany cover, looking from place to place. "Here you
are, Jem," he said, in a low tone; "four more screws, and only just put
in."
The other man uttered a low growl, and entered with his screw-driver;
moistened his hands and the tool creaked on the top of a screw, and then
entered the cross slit with a loud snap. The next minute the first
screw was being withdrawn.
"Pretty badly put in," said the man. "Didn't have a carpenter here."
He worked away, making the old place vibrate a little with his efforts,
and to Guest the whole business was horribly suggestive of taking off
the lid from a coffin; but he was firmer now, as he stood behind
Stratton, who drew a deep breath, now and then like a heavy sigh, but
neither stirred from his position by the door they had entered, nor
spoke.
All at once there was a sharp rap on the lid of the bath, which acted
like a sounding-board, and the man at work started back in alarm.
"All right, Jem," said the sergeant; "you jarred it down from the
shelf."
As he spoke he snatched up what he evidently looked upon as evidence;
for it was a large gimlet, evidently quite new, and its long spiral
glistened in the light of the lantern.
"Thought somebody throwed it," growled the man, as he resumed his task
of withdrawing the screws till the last was out, and placed close to the
bath, on the floor.
"Sure that's all?" said the sergeant.
The man ran his finger along the edge of the bath lid, uttered a grunt,
and drew back toward the door by which he had entered.
"Lift up the lid, man--lift up the lid," said the sergeant, directing
the lantern so that the grain of the new-looking wood glistened and
seemed full of golden and ruddy brown depths of shadow, among which the
light seemed to play.
"Do you hear?" he said. "Lift up the lid."
The man made no answer, but ran his hand over his moist forehead, and
still backed toward the door, where Stratton and Guest were standing.
Then, as they drew aside to let him pass:
"Precious hot in there," he growled.
"Look here, Jem," said the sergeant; "don't leave a fellow in the lurch.
Come on."
Thus adjured, the man turned back and held out his hand.
"It ain't my work," he said in a hoarse whisper; "I've done my bit. But
I'll hold the light for you, if you like."
The sergeant passed the lantern to his companion, who took it, and so
reversed its position, the rays from the bull's-eye being directed
toward the sergeant, and, consequently, Stratton and Guest were in the
shadow, out of which the latter peered forward with his heart beating
violently, and as he leaned forward he touched Stratton's arm.
He shuddered and shrank back, being conscious that Stratton grasped the
reason, for a low sigh escaped him; but he did not stir, and, in spite
of his feeling of repulsion, Guest felt compelled to press forward again
to witness the horror about to be unveiled.
"Turn the light more down," whispered the sergeant; and, in spite of the
low tone in which they were uttered, the words sounded loudly in Guest's
ears.
"Now for it," muttered the officer; and, as if forcing himself to act,
he flung up the bath lid so that it struck against the panelled side of
the place with a sharp rap, and set free a quantity of loose plaster and
brickwork to fall behind the wainscot with a peculiar, rustling sound
that sent a shudder through the lookers-on.