MYSTERY.
Silence had fallen upon the room. Coffee had been taken, and the tray
carried away by Mrs. Edwards. It was yet only eight o'clock. Mr.
Ravensworth sat in mental perplexity, believing he had not come to the
bottom of this dreadful affair; no, nor half-way to it.
But Lady Level was in still greater perplexity, her mind buried in
miserable reverie. A conviction that she was being frightfully wronged
in some way, and that she would not bear it, lay uppermost with her.
Since meeting with the railway boy, Sam Doughty, the previous
afternoon, and hearing the curious information he had disclosed, her
temper had been gradually rising. It was temper that had caused her to
declare herself to Lord Level while the servants (as related in a
former chapter) were at supper in the kitchen, and Mrs. Edwards and
the old steward were shut up in their sitting-room, waiting for their
own supper to be served. The coast thus clear, in went Blanche to her
lord's chamber. Not to open out the budget of her wrongs--he might not
be sufficiently well for that--but to announce herself. To let him see
that she was still in the house, that she had disregarded his
injunction to quit it; and to assure him, in her rebellious spirit,
that she meant to remain in it as long as she pleased. Not a word of
suspected and unorthodox matters did Lady Level breathe, and the
quarrel that arose between them was wholly on the score of her
disobedience. Lord Level was passionately angry, thus to have been set
at naught. He told her that as his wife she owed him obedience, and
must give it to him. She retorted that she would not do so. The
dispute went no further than that; but loud and angry words passed on
both sides. And the next episode in the drama, some three or four
hours later, was the mysterious attack upon Lord Level.
"Arnold," suddenly spoke her ladyship, looking up from her chair, "I
mean to take a very decisive step."
"In what way?" he quietly asked, from his seat on the other side of
the fireplace. "To send for the police?"
"No, no, no; not that. I shall separate from Lord Level."
"Oh," said Mr. Ravensworth, taken by surprise, and thinking she was
jesting.
"As soon as he is well again, and able to discuss matters, I shall
demand a separation. I shall _insist_ upon it. If he will not accord
it to me privately, I shall apply for it publicly."
"Blanche, you will do no such thing!" he exclaimed, rising in
excitement. "You do not know what you are saying."
"And you do not know how much cause I have for saying it," she
answered. "Lord Level has--has--insulted me."
"Hush," said Mr. Ravensworth. "I don't quite know what you mean by
insult----"
"And I cannot tell you," she interrupted, her pretty black satin
slipper beating its indignation on the hearthrug, her cheeks wearing a
delicate rose-flush. "It is a thing I can speak of only to himself."
"But--I was going to say--Lord Level does not, I feel sure, intrude
personal insult upon you. Anything that may take place outside your
knowledge you had better neither notice nor inquire into."
Lady Level shook her head defiantly. "I mean to do it."
"I will not hear another word upon this point," said Mr. Ravensworth
sternly. "You are as yet not much more than a child, young lady; when
you are a little older and wiser, you will see how foolish such ideas
are. For your own sake, Blanche, put them away from you."
"I wish my dear brother Tom were here!" she petulantly returned. "It
was a shame his regiment should be sent out to India!"
Mr. Ravensworth drew in his stern lips. He had suspected that of the
dreadful fate of Tom Heriot she must still be ignorant. The suspicion
was now confirmed.
At that moment the steward, Mr. Drewitt, appeared; and Lady Level
introduced him by name. Mr. Ravensworth saw a pale, venerable man of
sixty years, still strong and upright, looking like a gentleman of the
old, old school, in his plum-coloured suit and white silk stockings,
his silver knee-buckles, his low shoes, and his voluminous cambric
shirt-frill. He brought a message from his lord, who wished to see Mr.
Ravensworth.
"Who told his lordship that Mr. Ravensworth was here?" exclaimed Lady
Level quickly.
"Madam, it was I. My lord heard someone being shown in to your
ladyship, and inquired who had come. I am sorry he has asked for you,
sir," candidly added the steward, as they left the room together.
"The fever has abated, but the least excitement will bring it on
again."
Lady Level was sorry also. She did not care that Mr. Ravensworth's
presence in the house should be known upstairs. The fact was that one
day when she and her husband were on their homeward journey from
Savoy, and Blanche was indulging in odds and ends of grievances
against her lord, as in her ill-feeling towards him she was then
taking to do, she had spoken a few words in sheer perverseness of
spirit to make him jealous of Arnold Ravensworth. Lord Level said
nothing, but he took the words to heart. He had not liked that
gentleman before; he hated him now. Blanche blushed for herself as she
recalled it.
Of course, it was not the visitor likely to give most pleasure to Lord
Level. As the steward introduced Mr. Ravensworth and left them
together, Lord Level regarded him with a cold, stern glance.
"So it is you!" he exclaimed. "May I ask what brings you down here?
Did my lady send for you?"
"No," answered Mr. Ravensworth, advancing towards the bed. "Major
Carlen called at my house this morning and requested me to come down.
I could not reach Marshdale before to-night."
"Major Carlen? Oh! very good. Major Carlen dare not interfere between
me and my wife; and he knows that."
"So far as I believe, Major Carlen has no intention or wish to
interfere. Lady Level sent to him in her alarm, and he requested me to
come down in his place."
"If Major Carlen has entered into an arrangement with you to come to
my house and pry into matters that concern myself alone----"
"I beg your lordship's pardon," was the curt interruption. "I do not
like or respect Major Carlen sufficiently well to enter into any
'arrangement' with him. I came down here, certainly in compliance with
his desire, but in a spirit of kindness towards Lady Level, and to be
of assistance to yourself if it were possible."
"How came you to bring Lady Level over from Germany?"
"She wished to come over."
"And I wished and desired her to stay there until I could join her. Do
you call _that_ interference?"
"It was nothing of the kind. On the morning of our departure from the
inn, Lady Level told my wife and myself that she should take the
opportunity to travel with us. She and her servants were even then
dressed for the journey, and her travelling-carriage stood ready
packed in the yard. If she did this against your wish, I am in no way
responsible for it. It was not my place to dictate to her; to say she
should go, or should remain. Be assured, my lord, I am the last man in
the world unduly to interfere with other people; and my coming down
now was entirely brought about by Major Carlen."
Lord Level was not insensible to reason. He remained silent for a
time, the angry expression gradually leaving his face. Mr. Ravensworth
spoke:
"I hope this injury to your lordship will not prove a grave one."
"It is a trifle," was the answer; "nothing but a trifle. It is my knee
that keeps me prostrate here more than anything else; and I have
intermittent fever with it."
"Can I be of service to you? If so, command me."
"Much obliged. No, I do not want anyone to be of service to me, if you
allude to this stabbing business. Some drunken fellow got in, and----"
"The servants say the doors were all left fastened, and were so
found."
"The servants say so to conceal their carelessness," cried Lord Level,
as a contortion of pain crossed his face. "This knee gives me twinges
at times like a red-hot iron."
"If anyone had broken in, especially any----"
"Mr. Ravensworth," imperatively interrupted Lord Level, "it is my
pleasure that this affair should not be investigated. I say that some
man got in--a poacher, probably, who must have been the worse for
drink--and he attacked me, not knowing what he was doing. To have a
commotion made over it would only excite me in my present feverish
condition. Therefore I shall put up with the injury, and shall be well
all the sooner for doing so. You will be so obliging," he added, some
sarcasm in his tone, "as to do the same."
But now, Mr. Ravensworth did not show himself wise in that moment. He
urged, in all good faith, a different course upon his lordship. The
presumption angered and excited Lord Level. In no time, as it seemed,
and without sufficient cause, the fever returned and mounted to the
brain. His face grew crimson, his eye wild; his voice rose almost to a
scream, and he flung his uninjured arm about the bed. Mr. Ravensworth,
in self-reproach for what he had done, looked for the bell and rang
it.
"Drewitt, are the doors fastened?" raved his lordship in delirium, as
the steward hastened in. "Do you hear me, Drewitt? Have you looked to
the doors? You must have left one of them open! Where are the keys?
The keys, I say, Drewitt!--What brings that man here?"
"You had better go down, sir, out of his sight," whispered the
steward, for it was at Mr. Ravensworth the invalid was excitedly
pointing. "I knew what it would be if he began talking. And he was so
much better!"
"His lordship excites himself for nothing," was the deprecating
answer.
"Why, of course," said Mr. Drewitt. "It is the nature of
fever-patients to do so."
Mrs. Edwards came in with appliances to cool the heated head, and Mr.
Ravensworth returned to the sitting-room below. Blanche was not there.
Close upon that, Dr. Macferraty called. After he had been with his
patient and dressed the wounds, he came bustling into the
sitting-room. This loud young man had a nose that turned straight up,
giving an impudent look to the face, and wide-open, round green eyes.
But no doubt he had his good points, and was a skilful surgeon.
"You are a friend of the family, I hear, sir," he began. "I hope you
intend to order an investigation into this extraordinary affair?"
"I have no authority for doing so. And Lord Level does not wish it
done."
"A fig for Lord Level! He does not know what he's saying," cried Dr.
Macferraty. "There never was so monstrous a thing heard of as that a
nobleman should be stabbed in his own bed and the assassin be let off
scot-free! We need not look far for the culprit!"
The last words, significantly spoken, jarred on Mr. Ravensworth's
ears. "Have you a suspicion?" he asked.
"I can put two and two together, sir, and find they make four. The
windows were fast; the doors were fast; there was no noise, no
disturbance, no robbery: well, then, what deduction have we to fall
back upon but that the villain, he or she, is an inmate of the house?"
Mr. Ravensworth's pulses beat a shade more quickly. "Do you suspect
one of the servants?"
"Yes, I do."
"But the servants are faithful and respectable. They are not suspected
indoors, I assure you."
"Perhaps not; they are out-of-doors, though. The whole neighbourhood
is in commotion over it; and how Drewitt and the old lady can let
these two London servants be at large is the talk of the place."
"Oh, it is the London servants you suspect, then, or one of them?"
"Look here," said Dr. Macferraty, dropping his voice and bending
forward in his chair till his face almost touched Mr. Ravensworth's:
"that the deed was done by an inmate of the house is _certain_. No one
got in, or could have got in; it is nonsense to suggest it. The
inmates consist of Lady Level and the servants only. If you take it
from the servants, you must lay it upon her."
No answer.
"Well," went on the doctor, "it is impossible to suspect _her_. A
delicate, refined girl, as she is, could not do so evil a thing. So we
must needs look to the servants. Deborah would not do it; the stout
old cook could not. She was in bed ill, besides, and slept through all
the noise and confusion. The two other servants, Sanders and Timms,
are strangers."
"I feel sure they no more did it than I," impulsively spoke Mr.
Ravensworth.
"Then you would fall back upon Lady Level?"
"No. No," flashed Mr. Ravensworth. "The bare suggestion of the idea is
an insult to her."
Dr. Macferraty drew himself back in his chair. "There's a mystery in
the affair, look at it which way you will, sir," he cried raspingly.
"My lord says he did not recognise the assassin; but, if he did not,
why should he forbid investigation? Put it as you do, that the two
servants are innocent--why, then, I fairly own I am puzzled. Another
thing puzzles me: the knife was found in Lady Level's chamber, yet she
protests that she slept through it all--was only awakened by his
lordship calling to her when it was over."
"It may have been flung in."
"No; it was carried in; for blood had dripped from it all along the
floor."
"Has the weapon been recognised?"
"Not that I am aware of. No one owns to knowing it. Anyway, it is an
affair that ought to be, and that must be, inquired into officially,"
concluded the doctor from the corridor, as he said good-night and went
bustling out.
Mr. Ravensworth, standing at the sitting-room door, saw him meet the
steward, who must have overheard the words, and now advanced with
cautious steps. Touching Mr. Ravensworth's arm, he drew him within the
shadow cast by a remote corner.
"Sir," he whispered, "my lady told Mrs. Edwards that you were a firm
friend of hers; a sure friend?"
"I trust I am, Mr. Drewitt."
"Then let it drop, sir; it is no common robber who has done this. Let
it drop, for her sake and my lord's."
Mr. Ravensworth felt painfully perplexed. Those few words, spoken by
the faithful old steward, were more fraught with suspicion against
Lady Level than anything he had yet heard.
Returning to the sitting-room, pacing it to and fro in his perplexity
for he knew not how long, he was looking at his watch to ascertain the
time, when Lady Level came in. She had been in Lord Level's
sitting-room upstairs, she said, the one opposite his bed-chamber. He
was somewhat calmer now. Mr. Ravensworth thought that he must now be
going.
"I have been of no assistance to you, Lady Level; I do not see that I
can be of any," he observed. "But should anything arise in which you
think I can help you, send for me."
"What do you expect to arise?" she hastily inquired.
"Nay, I expect nothing."
"Did Lord----" Lady Level suddenly stopped and turned her head. Just
within the room stood two policemen. She rose with a startled
movement, and shrank close to Mr. Ravensworth, crying out, as for
protection. "Arnold! Arnold!"
"Do not agitate yourself," he whispered. "What is it that you want?"
he demanded, moving towards the men.
"We have come about this attack on Lord Level, sir," replied one of
them.
"Who sent for you?"
"Don't know anything about that, sir. Our superior ordered us here,
and is coming on himself. We must examine the fastenings of this
window, sir, by the lady's leave."
They passed up the room, and Lady Level left it, followed by Mr.
Ravensworth. Outside stood Deborah, aghast.
"They have been in the kitchen this ten minutes, my lady," she
whispered, "asking questions of us all--Mr. Sanders and Mrs. Timms and
me and cook, all separate. And now they are going round the house to
search it, and see to the fastenings."
The men came out again and moved away, Deborah following slowly in
their wake: she appeared to regard them with somewhat of the curiosity
we give to a wild animal: but Mr. Ravensworth recalled her. Lady Level
entered the room again and sat down by the fire. Mr. Ravensworth again
observed that he must be going: he had barely time to walk to the
station and catch the train.
"Arnold, if you go, and leave me with these men in the house, I will
never forgive it!" she passionately uttered.
He looked at her in surprise. "I thought you wished for the presence
of the police. You said you should regard them as a protection."
"Did _you_ send for them?" she breathlessly exclaimed.
"Certainly not."
She sank into a reverie--a deep, unpleasant reverie that compressed
her lips and contracted her brow. Suddenly she lifted her head.
"He is my husband, after all, Arnold."
"To be sure he is."
"And therefore--and therefore--there had better be no investigation."
"Why?" asked Mr. Ravensworth, scarcely above his breath.
"Because he does not wish it," she answered, bending her face
downwards. "He forbade me to call in aid, or to suffer it to be called
in; and, as I say, he is my husband. Will you stop those men in their
search? will you send them away?"
"I do not think I have power to do so."
"You can forbid them in Lord Level's name. I give you full authority:
as he would do, were he capable of acting. Arnold, I _will_ have them
out of the house. I _will_."
"What is it that you fear from them?"
"I fear--I cannot tell you what I fear. They might question me."
"And if they did?--you can only repeat to them what you told me."
"No, it must not be," she shivered. "I--I--dare not let it be."
Mr. Ravensworth paused. "Blanche," he said, in low tones, "have you
told me all?"
"Perhaps not," she slowly answered.
"'Perhaps!'"
"There!" she exclaimed, springing up in wild excitement. "I hear those
men upstairs, and you stand here idly talking! Order them away in Lord
Level's name."
Desperately perplexed, Mr. Ravensworth flew to the stairs. The
steward, pale and agitated, met him half-way up. "It must not be
looked into by the police," he whispered. "Sir, it must not. Will you
speak to them? you may have more weight with them than I. Say you are
a friend of my lord's. I strongly suspect this is the work of that
meddling Macferraty."
Arnold Ravensworth moved forward as one in a dream, an under-current
of thought asking what all this mystery meant. The steward followed.
They found the men in one of the first rooms: not engaged in the
examination of its fastenings or its closets (and the whole house
abounded in closets and cupboards), but with their heads together,
talking in whispers.
In answer to Mr. Ravensworth's peremptory demand, made in Lord Level's
name, that the search should cease and the house be freed of their
presence, they civilly replied that they must not leave, but would
willingly retire to the kitchen and there await their superior
officer, who was on his road to the house: and they went down
accordingly. Mr. Ravensworth returned to the sitting-room to acquaint
Lady Level with the fact, but found she had disappeared. In a moment
she came in, scared, her hands lifted in dismay, her breath coming in
gasps.
"Give me air!" she cried, rushing to the window and motioning to have
it opened. "I shall faint; I shall die."
"What ever is the matter?" questioned Mr. Ravensworth, as he succeeded
in undoing the bolt of the window, and throwing up its middle
compartment. At that moment a loud ring came to the outer gate. It
increased her terror, and she broke into a flood of tears.
"My dear young lady, let me be your friend," he said in his grave
concern. "Tell me the whole truth. I know you have not done so yet.
Let it be what it will, I promise to--if possible--shield you from
harm."
"Those men are saying in the kitchen that it was I who attacked Lord
Level; I overheard them," she shuddered, the words coming from her
brokenly in her agitation.
"Make a friend of me; you shall never have a truer," he continued, for
really he knew not what else to urge, and he could not work in the
dark. "Tell me all from beginning to end."
But she only shivered in silence.
"Blanche!--did--you--do--it?"
"No," she answered, with a low burst of heartrending sobs. "_But I saw
it done._"
END OF VOL. I.
BILLING AND SONS, PRINTERS, GUILDFORD.
_S. & H._
Transcriber's Notes:
Inconsistent and archaic spelling retained.