THE KNOCKING ON THE WALL.
It was ten days before I saw Miles again; then he returned to school
for the last three weeks of the half. Seeing him dressed in black, and
noticing the unaccustomed look of sadness on his usually cheerful face,
boylike I felt for a moment shy of meeting him; but with the first
hearty hand-grip all feeling of restraint vanished, and I was able to
give him the assurance of my sympathy and friendship. Then it was that
I heard for the first time how he had arrived at Welmington too late to
see his father alive--a fact which must have added greatly to the
heaviness of the blow and the keenness of his grief.
Naturally, for the time, he had no heart to join in our usual
amusements; and his rough, though for the most part good natured,
schoolboy comrades showed their sympathy in allowing him to go his own
ways. Just then "Foxes" and "Eagles" had buried the hatchet, owing to
the fact that a spell of hot weather had set in, and the members of
both "tribes" went amicably, nearly every day, to bathe in a
neighbouring stream.
The majority of the boarders were thus engaged one afternoon, and Miles
and I had the playground to ourselves. We were sitting on a seat under
a shady tree, and something perhaps in the restful quiet of the place
encouraged my companion to unburden himself and take me into his
confidence. I had noticed a troubled look on his face, and inquired
whether anything was weighing on his mind.
"Yes," he replied. "Look here, Sylvester, old fellow, I'm sure there's
something wrong at home that I don't quite understand. Mr. Denny, our
lawyer, has been there with my mother, and they haven't told me what is
the matter, but they seem to be afraid of something or somebody, and I
believe it's Uncle Nicholas."
"Why? has he shown any signs of ill-will?"
"No; if anything, he's appeared more friendly than he has been since I
can remember. He came over to Coverthorne the day after the funeral,
and said he was sorry that he and my father had quarrelled; that there
had probably been mistakes on both sides, but he was glad now to think
that all the misunderstanding had been cleared away before James's
death, and that they had mutually agreed the past should be forgiven
and forgotten. My uncle must have noticed the surprised look on my
mother's face, as she knew of no such reconciliation; and he went on to
explain that he and my father had agreed not to make it public till
next Christmas Day, when they intended to dine together. 'There's
another matter which was to have been mentioned then,' he went on. 'I
won't broach the subject now. After the terrible shock, you aren't in
a fit state to be bothered with business. We'll leave it for a few
weeks.'"
"I must say I didn't like the look of that man when I saw him," I
muttered; "his face seemed hard and cruel."
"My mother mistrusts him too, and so does Mr. Denny. I can tell that
by the way in which they speak about him."
For some moments Miles remained silent, scraping patterns in the gravel
with the heel of his boot.
"Look here. You're an old friend whom I know I can trust, Sylvester,"
he exclaimed suddenly. "I'm sure if I tell you what I think you won't
let it go any farther?"
I at once gave him the promise he desired.
"Soon after Uncle Nicholas's visit," he began, "Mr. Denny came to stay
with us for three days, spending most of his time going through my
father's papers. My mother would be closeted with him for an hour at a
time. I could hear their voices talking together in low tones as I
passed the door; and when they came out there was always a worried,
anxious look on their faces. I had heard it mentioned that my father's
will and some other documents were missing; but hitherto Mr. Denny had
not treated the loss as a very serious thing, at all events as far as I
could gather. I don't think I should have troubled my head any more
about the matter, but for what I am going to describe. It was on the
last day of Mr. Denny's visit. I had gone to bed rather early, as I
was tired, and had been asleep some hours, when I was awakened by a
sound like a muffled knocking. I lay for a few minutes, thinking it
must have been my fancy; then the sound was repeated. The thought
occurred to me at once that it must be some one who had come to the
house for some reason or other, and was knocking at the back door to
try and waken one of the servants. I got up, leaned out of my window,
and called out, 'Who's there?' No reply was given, nor could I see any
one in the yard. Once more I thought my fancy had deceived me; then
_thump--thump--thump_! it came again. 'It must be some one at the
front door,' I thought; so I threw a coat over my shoulders and went
out of my room, down a passage, and across the landing to a window that
looks out on the front of the house. I opened it, and once more asked
who was there, but got no answer.
"The horses in the stables often make curious noises at night, but this
rapping was too regular to have been caused by them. I walked slowly
back, and just as I reached the middle of the landing it came again,
_knock--knock--knock_! I expect you'll think me a coward, but I must
own that a chill went all down my back. People say that Coverthorne is
haunted, and this strange rapping in the middle of the night, long
after every one else had gone to bed, reminded me of all the stories I
had often heard the servants telling each other round the kitchen fire.
If you'll believe me, I was more than half inclined to bolt for my room
and stick my head under the bedclothes. The sound came from somewhere
downstairs, and, as far as I could judge, from the direction of the
very room which is supposed to be particularly favoured by the ghost.
It was like some one rapping slowly and deliberately with his knuckles
on the panel of a door. I stood irresolute and holding my breath; then
I heard something tinkle like metal falling on stone. That seemed to
break the spell, and my heart beat fast. I no longer feared a ghost,
but thought it must be robbers. What I intended doing I hardly know,
but I think I must have had some vague idea of trying to slip across
the kitchen to the servants' quarters, and there rouse the men. I went
slowly and carefully down the stairs, my bare feet making no sound.
The knocking was repeated. I could tell now exactly from what part of
the house it came, and a strong desire seized me to get a sight of the
thieves and see what they were about. Old houses like ours have all
kinds of funny twists and turns. I crept along to one of these, and
peeped round the corner. What I saw astonished me more than if I had
been confronted by a whole band of robbers. I was looking down a long,
narrow passage, the walls of which are panelled with oak: at the
farther end stood my mother and Mr. Denny. She was carrying a candle,
while he held in his hands a hammer and small chisel; the latter it was
which he must have dropped a few moments before, when I heard the chink
of its fall on the flagstones. What they were doing I could not
imagine. I saw Mr. Denny rap on the wall with the handle of the
hammer, at the same time turning his ear to listen, as though he almost
expected some one on the other side of the panelling to say 'Come in!'
Then it dawned on me in a moment that they were searching for the
secret place."
Miles paused as he said this, and I listened breathlessly for what was
coming next.
"Of course," continued my companion, "I guessed at once that my mother
and Mr. Denny were searching then, instead of in the daytime, because
they thought it best for the servants not to see and go gossiping in
the village. As they evidently did not want me with them, I turned and
crept quietly back to bed again; but I couldn't help lying awake
listening for the tap of the hammer, and from that I knew they
continued searching most of the night. Try as I would, I could not
rest till my curiosity was in some measure satisfied; so on the
following day, after Mr. Denny had gone back home, I told my mother
what I knew, and begged her to give me an explanation. Even then she
wouldn't tell me plainly what was the matter. She said Mr. Denny had
heard a rumour which made him uneasy about our future, and that he
wanted to find some letters and papers which he thought it possible my
father might have stowed away in the secret place. She warned me to be
sure and not mention this to the servants, and, above all, to Uncle
Nicholas."
My companion's story reawakened all the former interest which I had
felt in the old house. It seemed to me a place which must be abounding
in mystery, and almost as romantic as the enchanted castle of a fairy
tale.
"I _should_ like to help to search, and see if I couldn't find the
secret place," I blurted out.
"So you shall," answered Miles. "It was understood that you were to
stay with me at Coverthorne." Then seeing that I hesitated, regretful
at having reminded him of a promise which had been made before the sad
circumstance of his father's death--"Oh yes," he added, "I'm quite
expecting you to come back with me. Mother wishes it too, for she
thinks it will do me good to have some companion of my own age, to
cheer me up. It will be fine," he went on, his face growing brighter
than I had seen it since his return to the school. "We'll shoot
rabbits, and bathe, and go down to Rockymouth, and go fishing in one of
the boats. There'll be heaps to do, if only we get fine weather."
All these projects were delightful to contemplate, but the thought of
searching for that mysterious hidden chamber was what still appealed
most strongly to my imagination.
"What a pity your father wasn't able to tell you the secret before you
came of age!" I remarked.
"I daresay he would have," answered Miles sadly, "if only I had arrived
in time to see him alive."
"Haven't you been able to find any clue that would help you in the
search?"
"No; the secret has been so well kept, and handed on from father to
son, that, outside our family, many people who have heard the story
think there is no such place."
"Has it ever been used for anything?"
"Not that I know of, except, I believe, years ago. When there was the
scare of a French invasion, my grandfather, who was alive then, hid all
his silver and valuables there. About a year ago my father went to
London, and Mr. Denny thinks it possible that before he started he
might have wanted to find a safe place for his papers, put them in the
secret chamber, and not troubled to take them out again when he came
back."
It seems to me that in my young days the prospect of breaking up and
going home for the holidays was a period which occasioned a greater
amount of rejoicing and excitement than it does among the younger
generation of the present time. For one thing, the contrast between
school and home was greater then; and again, the half-year was longer
than the term, and the end of it the more eagerly awaited. Now, my
grandchildren appear to be no sooner packed off to school than they are
back again. In addition to all this, when that particular vacation
drew near, the prospect of returning home with Miles for a fortnight at
Coverthorne made me long all the more for the few remaining days to
pass; and when at length we flung our dog-eared school books into our
desks for the last time, and rushed out into the playground to give
vent to our feelings with three rousing cheers, I know I shouted till I
was hoarse.
Owing to the limited accommodation on the coaches, we had two actual
breaking-up days--half of the boys going home on the one and half on
the other, those whose progress in school work had been most
satisfactory being allowed to start first.
Miles and I had the good fortune to be numbered among the latter, and I
don't think I shall ever forget that bright summer morning when,
together with several more companions, we started to walk to the little
village of Round Green, through which the coach passed about nine
o'clock. Our luggage had already preceded us in a cart, to be
transferred to the boot of the _Regulator_, the guard of which, George
Woodley by name, was a prime favourite with us boys.
Shutting my eyes for a moment, I can imagine myself standing again
outside the Sportsman Inn at Round Green, waiting with boyish eagerness
for the first distant note of the horn which--this being the end of a
stage--was sounded to give the hostlers warning to bring out the fresh
horses. What music ever was so sweet on a bright summer morning as
that gay call, coupled with the brisk clattering of the hoofs, when it
sounded in the ears of a boy returning home from school? How we held
our breath and strained our ears to listen for the approaching vehicle!
I could almost imagine I heard that far-off fanfare now, forgetful of
the fact that the gulf of a long life divides me from that time, that
the railway has long displaced the _Regulator_, and that coachman,
guard, and most of their young passengers know now a greater secret
than the one which, during the coming holidays, I hoped to fathom.