LOST
The three young ladies came in together, Miss Baby looking very
important, but calling out for her tea.
'It's quite ready, my dear,' I said. 'But where's Master Francis?'
'_I_ don't know,' said Miss Bess. 'I haven't seen him all the
afternoon.'
I turned to Miss Lally.
'He went up to sit with you, my dear, in the attic,' I said.
'I didn't see him,' said Miss Lally, and then she explained how Miss
Bess had fetched her down ever so long ago. 'I daresay Francie's in his
own room,' she went on. 'I'll run up and see, and I'll look in the attic
too, for I left my work lying about.'
She ran off.
'Nurse,' said Miss Bess, 'do you think Francis got a very bad scolding?
You saw him, didn't you? Did he seem very unhappy?'
'I'm afraid so, my dear, but I think it will come all right again. I've
seen your mamma since, and she quite sees now that he didn't really mean
to be disobedient.'
'I wish you had told mamma that before they spoke to Francis,' said Miss
Bess, who I must say was rather a Job's comforter sometimes.
We waited anxiously till we heard Miss Lally's footsteps returning. She
ran in alone, looking rather troubled.
'He's not there, not in his own room, or the attic, or nowhere, but he
must have been in the attic, for my work's gone.'
A great fear came over me. Could the poor boy have run away in his
misery at having again angered his uncle and aunt? for the look on his
face had been strange, when he glanced in at the nursery door, asking
for Miss Lally. Was he meaning perhaps to bid her good-bye before
setting off in some wild way? And what she said of the knitting having
gone made me still more uneasy. Had he perhaps taken it with him as a
remembrance? for of all the queer mixtures of old-fashionedness and
childishness that ever I came across, Master Francis was the strangest,
though, as I have said, there was a good deal of this in all the
children.
I got up at Miss Lally's words. Master Bevil was asleep, luckily.
'You go on with your tea, my dears, there's good children,' I said. 'I
must see about Master Francis, he must be somewhere about the house.
He'd never have thought of going out again in such weather,' for it was
pouring in torrents.
I went downstairs, asking everybody I met if they had seen him, but they
all shook their heads, and at last, after searching through the library
and the big drawing-rooms, and even more unlikely places, I got so
frightened that I made bold to knock at Sir Hulbert's study door, where
he was busy writing, my lady working beside him.
They had been talking of Master Francis just before I went in, and they
were far more distressed than annoyed at my news, my lady growing quite
pale.
'O Hulbert!' she exclaimed, 'if he has run away it is my fault.'
'Nonsense, Helen,' he said, meaning to cheer her. 'The boy has got sense
and good feeling, he'd never risk making himself ill again. And where
would he run away to? He couldn't go to sea. But certainly the sooner
we find him the better.'
He went off to speak to some of the men, while my lady and I, Mrs. Brent
and some of the others, started again to search through the house. We
did search, looking in really impossible corners, where he couldn't have
squeezed himself in. Then the baby awoke, and I had to go to him, and
Miss Bess and Miss Lally took their turn at this melancholy game of
hide-and-seek, but it was all no use. The dull gray afternoon darkened
into night, the rain still pouring down, and nothing was heard of the
missing boy. Sir Hulbert at last left off pretending not to be anxious.
He had his strongest horse put into the dog-cart, and drove away to the
town to give notice to the police, stopping on the way at every place
where it was the least likely the boy could have been seen.
He didn't get back till eleven o'clock. My lady and Mrs. Brent and me
were waiting up for him, for Master Bevil was sleeping sweetly, and I
had put the nursery-maid to watch beside him. The young ladies, poor
dears, were in bed too, and, as is happily the way with children, had
fallen asleep in spite of their tears and sad distress.
We knew the moment we saw Sir Hulbert that he had no good tidings to
give us. His sunburnt face looked almost white, as he came into the hall
soaking wet and shook his head.
'I have done everything, Nelly,' he said, 'everything that can be done,
and now we must try to be patient till some news comes. It is
impossible, everybody says, that a boy like him, so well known in the
neighbourhood too, could disappear without some one seeing him, or that
he could remain in hiding for long. It is perfectly extraordinary that
we have not found him already, and somehow I can scarcely believe he is
doing it on purpose. He has such good feeling, and must know how anxious
we should be.'
Sir Hulbert was standing by the fire, which my lady had had lighted in
the hall, as he spoke. He seemed almost thinking aloud. My lady crept up
to him with a look on her face I could not bear to see.
'Hulbert,' she said in a low voice, 'I said things to him enough to make
him doubt our caring at all.' And then she broke down into bitter though
silent weeping.
We got her to bed with difficulty. There was really no use whatever in
sitting up, and who knew what need for strength the next day might
bring? Then there were the other poor children to think of. So by
midnight the house was all quiet as usual. I was thankful that the wind
had fallen, for all through the evening there had been sounds of wailing
and sobbing, such as stormy weather always brings at Treluan, enough to
make you miserable if there was nothing the matter--the rain pattering
against the window like cold tiny hands, tapping and praying to be let
in.
Sad as I was, and though I could scarcely have believed it of myself, I
had scarcely laid my head down before I too, like the children, fell
fast asleep. I was dreaming, a strange confused dream, which I never was
able to remember clearly; but it was something about searching in the
smugglers' caves for Master Francis, followed by an old man, who I
somehow fancied was the miser baronet, Sir David. His hair was snow
white, and there was a confusion in my mind of thinking it like Miss
Lally's wool. Anyhow, I had got the idea of whiteness in my head, so
that, when something woke me--afterwards I knew it was the sound of my
own name--and I opened my eyes to see by the glimmer of the night-light
what seemed at first a shining figure by my bed-side, I did not feel
surprised. And the first words I said were 'white as wool.'
'No, no,' said Miss Lally, for it was she, in her little night-dress,
her fair hair all tumbling over her shoulders, 'it isn't about my wool,
nurse, please wake up quite. It's something so strange--such a queer
noise. Please get up and come to my room to see what it is.'
Miss Lally's room was a tiny place at the side of the nursery nearest
the tower, though not opening on to the tower stair.
I got up at once and crossed the day nursery with her, lighting a candle
on the way. But when we got into her room all was perfectly silent.
'What was it you heard, my dear?' I asked.
'A sort of knocking,' she said, 'and a queer kind of little cry, like a
rabbit caught in a trap when you hear it a long way off.'
'It must have been the wind and rain again,' I was beginning to say, but
she stopped me.
'Hush, listen!' she said, holding up her little hand, 'there it is
again.'
It was just as she had said, and it seemed to come from the direction of
the tower.
'Isn't it like as if it was from Francie's room?' said Miss Lally,
shivering a little; 'and yet we know he's not there, nursie.'
But something was there, or close by, and something _living_, I seemed
to feel.
'Put on your dressing-gown,' I said to the little girl, 'and your
slippers, and we'll go up and see. You're not frightened, dear?'
'Oh no!' she said. 'If only it was Francie!'
But she clung to my hand as we went up the stair, leaving the nursery
door wide open, so as to hear Master Bevil if he woke up.
Master Francis's room was all dark, of course, and it struck very chill
as we went in, the candle flickering as we pushed the door open. It
seemed so strange to see the empty bed, and everything unused about the
room, just as if he was really quite away. We stood perfectly still. All
was silent. We were just about leaving the room to go to the attic when
the faintest breath of a sound seemed to come again, I couldn't tell
from where. It was more like a sigh in the air.
'Stop,' said Miss Lally, squeezing my hand, and then again we heard the
muffled taps, much more clearly than downstairs. Miss Lally's ears were
very sharp.
'I hear talking,' she whispered, and before I knew what she was about
she had laid herself down on the floor and put her ear to the ground, at
a part where there was no carpet. 'Nursie,' she went on, looking up with
a very white face and shining eyes, 'it is Francie. He must have felled
through the floor. I can hear him saying, "O Lally! O Bess! Oh, somebody
come."'
I stooped down as she had done. It was silent again; but after a moment
began the knocking and a sort of sobbing cry; my ears weren't sharp
enough to make it into words, but I seized the first thing that came to
hand, I think it was the candlestick, and thumped it on the floor as
hard as ever I could, calling out, close down through the boarding,
'Master Francie, we hear you.'
But there was nothing we could do by ourselves, and we were losing
precious time.
'Miss Lally,' I said, 'you won't be frightened to stay here alone; I'll
leave you the candle. Go on knocking and calling to him, to keep up his
heart, in case he can hear, while I go for your papa.'
In less time than it takes to tell it, I had roused Sir Hulbert and
brought him back with me, my lady following after. Nothing would have
kept her behind. We were met by eager words from Miss Lally.
'Papa, nursie,' she cried, 'I've made him hear, and I can make out that
he says something about the window.'
Without speaking Sir Hulbert strode across the room and flung it open.
Oh, how thankful we were that the wind had fallen and all was still.
'Francis, my boy,' we heard Sir Hulbert shout--he was leaning out as far
as ever he could--'Francis, my boy, can you hear me?'
Something answered, but we inside the room couldn't distinguish what it
said, but in another moment Sir Hulbert turned towards us.
'He says something about the cupboard in the attic,' he said. 'What can
he mean? But come at once.'
He caught up my lady's little hand-lamp and led the way, we three
following. When we reached the attic he went straight to the big
cupboard I have spoken of. The doors were standing wide open. Sir
Hulbert went in, but came out again, looking rather blank.
'I can see nothing,' he said. 'I fancied he said the word "mouse," but
his voice had got so faint.'
'If you knock on the floor,' I began, but Miss Lally stopped me by
darting into the closet.
'Papa,' she said, 'hold the light here. I know where the mouse-hole is.'
What they had thought a mouse-hole was really a hole with jagged edges
cut out in one of the boards, which you could thrust your hand into. Sir
Hulbert did so, beginning to see what it was meant for, and pulled. A
trap-door, cleverly made, for all that it looked so roughly done, gave
way, and by the light of the lamp we saw a kind of ladder leading
downwards into the dark. Sir Hulbert stooped down and leaned over the
edge.
'Francis,' he called, and a very faint voice--we couldn't have heard it
till the door was opened--answered--
'Yes, I'm here. Take care, the ladder's broken.'
Luckily there was another ladder in the attic. Sir Hulbert and I dragged
it out, and managed to slip it down the hole, in the same direction as
the other. We were so afraid it would be too short, but it wasn't. My
lady and I held it steady at the top, while Sir Hulbert went down with
the lamp, Miss Lally holding a candle beside us.
Sir Hulbert went down very slowly, not knowing how or in what state
Master Francis might be lying at the foot. Our hearts were beating like
hammers, for all we were so quiet.
First we heard an exclamation of surprise. I rather think it was 'by
Jove!' though Sir Hulbert was a most particular gentleman in his way of
speaking--then came a hearty shout--
'All right, he's here, no bones broken.'
'Shall I come down?' cried my lady.
'I think you may,' Sir Hulbert answered, 'if you're very careful. I'll
bring the light to the foot of the ladder again.'
When my lady got down, Miss Lally and I strained our ears to hear. I
knew the child was quivering to go down herself, and it was like her to
be so patient.
Strange were the words that first reached us.
'Auntie, auntie!' we heard Master Francis say, in his poor weak voice.
'It's old Sir David's treasure! You won't be poor any more. Oh! I'm so
glad now I fell down the hole, but I thought I'd die before I could tell
any one.'
Miss Lally and I stared at each other. Could it be true? or was Master
Francis off his head? We had not long to wait.
They managed to get him up--after all it was not so very far to
climb,--my lady coming first with the lamp, and Sir Hulbert, holding
Master Francis with one arm and the side of the ladder with the other,
followed, for the boy had revived wonderfully, once he knew he was safe.
[Illustration: Sir Hulbert, holding Master Francis with one arm and the
side of the ladder with the other, followed.]
My lady was crying, I saw it the moment the light fell on her face, and
as soon as Master Francis was up beside us, she threw her arms round him
and kissed him as never before.
'Oh! my poor dear boy,' she said, 'I am so thankful, but do tell us how
it all happened.'
She must have heard, and indeed seen something of the strange discovery
that had been made, but for the moment I don't think there was a thought
in her heart except thankfulness that he was safe.
Before Master Francis could answer, Sir Hulbert interrupted.
'Better not ask him anything for a minute or two,' he said. 'Nurse, you
will find my brandy-flask downstairs in the study. He'd better have a
little mixed with water; and ring the bell as you pass to waken Crooks,
and some one must light the fire in Francis's room.'
I was back in five minutes with what was wanted; and then I found Miss
Lally having her turn at petting her cousin. As soon as he had had a
little brandy and water we took him down to the nursery, where the fire
was still smouldering, Sir Hulbert carefully closing the trap-door as it
had been before, and then following us downstairs.
Once in the nursery, anxious though we were to get him to bed, it was
impossible not to let him tell something of what had happened. It began
by a cry from Miss Lally.
'Why, Francie, you've got my knitting sticking out of your pocket. But
two of the needles have dropped out,' she went on rather dolefully.
'They'll be lying down in that room,' said Master Francis. 'I was
carrying it in my hand when I went down the ladder after the ball of
wool, and when I fell I dropped it, and I found it afterwards. It was
the ball of wool that did it all,' and then he went on to explain.
He had not found Miss Lally in the attic, for Miss Bess had already
called her down, but seeing her knitting lying on the floor, he had sat
down to wait for her, thinking she'd be sure to come back. Then he
noticed that the ball of wool must have rolled away as she threw her
work down, and disappeared into the cupboard. The door was wide open,
and he traced it by the thread in his hand to the 'mouse-hole' in the
corner, down which it had dropped, and putting his hand through to see
if he could feel it, to his surprise the board yielded. Pulling a little
more, the trap-door opened, and he saw the steps leading downwards.
It was not dark in the secret room in the day-time, for it had two
narrow slits of windows hardly to be noticed from the outside, so, with
a boy's natural curiosity, he determined to go down. He hadn't strength
to lift the trap-door fully back, but he managed to stick it open enough
to let him pass through; he had not got down many steps, however, before
he heard it bang to above him. The shock may have jarred the ladder,
which was a roughly-made rotten old thing. Anyway, the next moment
Master Francis felt it give way, and he fell several feet on to the
floor below. He was bruised, and a little stunned for a few minutes, but
he soon came quite to himself, and, still full of curiosity, began to
look about him. The place where he was was only a sort of entrance to a
larger room, which was really under his own bedroom, and lighted, as I
have said, by narrow deep windows, without glass. And though there was
no door between the two, the large room was on a much lower level, and
another ladder led down to it. This time he was very careful, and got to
the bottom without any accident.
Looking about him, he saw standing along one side of the room a
collection of the queerest-shaped objects of all sizes that could be
imagined, all wrapped up in some kind of linen or canvas, grown gray
with age and dust.