RAGNALL CASTLE
When I had finished reading this amazing document I lit my pipe and set
to work to think it over. The hypothetical inquirer might ask why I
thought it amazing. There was nothing odd in a dilettante Englishman of
highly cultivated mind taking to Egyptology and, being, as it chanced,
one of the richest men in the kingdom, spending a fraction of his
wealth in excavating temples. Nor was it strange that he should have
happened to die by accident when engaged in that pursuit, which I can
imagine to be very fascinating in the delightful winter climate of
Egypt. He was not the first person to be buried by a fall of sand. Why,
only a little while ago the same fate overtook a nursery-governess and
the child in her charge who were trying to dig out a martin’s nest in a
pit in this very parish. Their operations brought down a huge mass of
the overhanging bank beneath which the sand-vein had been hollowed by
workmen who deserted the pit when they saw that it had become unsafe.
Next day I and my gardeners helped to recover their bodies, for their
whereabouts was not discovered until the following morning, and a sad
business it was.
Yet, taken in conjunction with the history of this couple, the whole
Ragnall affair was very strange. When but a child Lady Ragnall, then
the Hon. Miss Holmes, had been identified by the priests of a remote
African tribe as the oracle of their peculiar faith, which we
afterwards proved to be derived from old Egypt, in short the worship of
Isis and Horus. Subsequently they tried to steal her away and through
the accident of my intervention, failed. Later on, after her marriage
when shock had deprived her of her mind, these priests renewed the
attempt, this time in Egypt, and succeeded. In the end we rescued her
in Central Africa, where she was playing the part of the Mother-goddess
Isis and even wearing her ancient robes. Next she and her husband came
home with their minds turned towards a branch of study that took them
back to Egypt. Here they devote themselves to unearthing a temple and
find out that among all the gods of Egypt, who seem to have been
extremely numerous, it was dedicated to Isis and Horus, the very
divinities with whom they recently they had been so intimately
concerned if in traditional and degenerate forms.
Moreover that was not the finish of it. They come to the sanctuary.
They discover the statue of the goddess with the child gone, as their
child was gone. A disaster occurs and both destroys and buries Ragnall
so effectually that nothing of him is ever seen again: he just vanishes
into another man’s grave and remains there.
A common sort of catastrophe enough, it is true, though people of
superstitious mind might have thought that it looked as though the
goddess, or whatever force was behind the goddess, was working
vengeance on the man who desecrated her ancient shrine. And, by the
way, though I cannot remember whether or no I mentioned it in “The
Ivory Child,” I recall that the old priest of the Kendah, Harût, once
told me he was sure Ragnall would meet with a violent death. This
seemed likely enough in that country under our circumstances there,
still I asked him why. He answered,
“Because he has laid hands on that which is holy and not meant for
man,” and he looked at Lady Ragnall.
I remarked that all women were holy, whereon he replied that he did not
think so and changed the subject.
Well, Ragnall, who had married the lady who once served as the last
priestess of Isis upon earth, was killed, whereas she, the priestess,
was almost miraculously preserved from harm. And—oh! the whole story
was deuced odd and that is all. Poor Ragnall! He was a great English
gentleman and one whom when first I knew him, I held to be the most
fortunate person I ever met, endowed as he was with every advantage of
mind, body and estate. Yet in the end this did not prove to be the
case. Well, while he lived he was a good friend and a good fellow and
none can hope for a better epitaph in a world where all things are soon
forgotten.
And now, what was I to do? To tell the truth I did not altogether
desire to reopen this chapter in past history, or to have to listen to
painful reminiscences from the lips of a bereaved woman. Moreover,
beautiful as she had been, for doubtless she was _passée_ now, and
charming as of course she remained—I do not think I ever knew anyone
who was quite so charming—there was something about Lady Ragnall which
alarmed me. She did not resemble any other woman. Of course no woman is
ever quite like another, but in her case the separateness, if I may so
call it, was very marked. It was as though she had walked out of a
different age, or even world, and been but superficially clothed with
the attributes of our own. I felt that from the first moment I set eyes
upon her and while reading her letter the sensation returned with added
force.
Also for me she had a peculiar attraction and not one of the ordinary
kind. It is curious to find oneself strangely intimate with a person of
whom after all one does not know much, just as if one really knew a
great deal that was shut off by a thin but quite impassable door. If
so, I did not want to open that door for who could tell what might be
on the other side of it? And intimate conversations with a lady in
whose company one has shared very strange experiences, not infrequently
lead to the opening of every kind of door.
Further I had made up my mind some time ago to have no more friendships
with women who are so full of surprises, but to live out the rest of my
life in a kind of monastery of men who have few surprises, being
creatures whose thoughts are nearly always open and whose actions can
always be foretold.
Lastly there was that _Taduki_ business. Well, there at any rate I was
clear and decided. No earthly power would induce me to have anything
more to do with _Taduki_ smoke. Of course I remembered that Lady
Ragnall once told me kindly but firmly that I would if she wished. But
that was just where she made a mistake. For the rest it seemed unkind
to refuse her invitation now when she was in trouble, especially as I
had once promised that if ever I could be of help, she had only to
command me. No, I must go. But if that word—_Taduki_—were so much as
mentioned I would leave again in a hurry. Moreover it would not be, for
doubtless she had forgotten all about the stuff by now, even if it were
not lost.
The end of it was that as I did not wish to write a long letter
entering into all that Lady Ragnall had told me, I sent her a telegram,
saying that if convenient to her, I would arrive at the Castle on the
following Saturday evening and adding that I must be back here on the
Tuesday afternoon, as I had guests coming to stay with me on that day.
This was perfectly true as the season was mid-November and I was to
begin shooting my coverts on the Wednesday morning, a function that
once fixed, cannot be postponed.
In due course an answer arrived—“Delighted, but hoped that you would
have been able to stay longer.”
Behold me then about six o’clock on the said Saturday evening being
once more whirled by a splendid pair of horses through the gateway arch
of Ragnall Castle. The carriage stopped beneath the portico, the great
doors flew open revealing the glow of the hall fire and lights within,
the footman sprang down from the box and two other footmen descended
the steps to assist me and my belongings out of the carriage. These, I
remember, consisted of a handbag with my dress clothes and a
yellow-backed novel.
So one of them took the handbag and the other had to content himself
with the novel, which made me wish I had brought a portmanteau as well,
if only for the look of the thing. The pair thus burdened, escorted me
up the steps and delivered me over to the butler who scanned me with a
critical eye. I scanned him also and perceived that he was a very fine
specimen of his class. Indeed his stately presence so overcame me that
I remarked nervously, as he helped me off with my coat, that when last
I was here another had filled his office.
“Indeed, Sir,” he said, “and what was his name, Sir?”
“Savage,” I replied.
“And where might he be now, Sir?”
“Inside a snake!” I answered. “At least he was inside a snake but now I
hope he is waiting upon his master in Heaven.”
The man recoiled a little, pulling off my coat with a jerk. Then he
coughed, rubbed his bald head, stared and recovering himself with an
effort, said,
“Indeed, Sir! I only came to this place after the death of his late
lordship, when her ladyship changed all the household. Alfred, show
this gentleman up to her ladyship’s boudoir, and William, take
his—baggage—to the blue room. Her ladyship wishes to see you at once,
Sir, before the others come.”
So I went up the big staircase to a part of the Castle that I did not
remember, wondering who “the others” might be. Almost could I have
sworn that the shade of Savage accompanied me up those stairs; I could
feel him at my side.
Presently a door was thrown open and I was ushered into a room somewhat
dimly lit and full of the scent of flowers. By the fire near a
tea-table, stood a lady clad in some dark dress with the light glinting
on her rich-hued hair. She turned and I saw that she still wore the
necklace of red stones, and beneath it on her breast a single red
flower. For this was Lady Ragnall; about that there was no doubt at
all, so little doubt indeed that I was amazed. I had expected to see a
stout, elderly woman whom I should only know by the colour of her eyes
and her voice, and perhaps certain tricks of manner. But, this was the
mischief of it, I could not perceive any change, at any rate in that
light. She was just the same! Perhaps a little fuller in figure, which
was an advantage; perhaps a little more considered in her movements,
perhaps a little taller or at any rate more stately, and that was all.
These things I learned in a flash. Then with a murmured “Mr.
Quatermain, my Lady,” the footman closed the door and she saw me.
Moving quickly towards me with both her hands outstretched, she
exclaimed in that honey-soft voice of hers,
“Oh! my dear friend——” stopped and added, “Why, you haven’t changed a
bit.”
“Fossils wear well,” I replied, “but that is just what I was thinking
of you.”
“Then it is very rude of you to call me a fossil when I am only
approaching that stage. Oh! I am glad to see you. I _am_ glad!” and she
gave me both the outstretched hands.
Upon my word I felt inclined to kiss her and have wondered ever since
if she would have been very angry. I am not certain that she did not
divine the inclination. At any rate after a little pause she dropped my
hands and laughed. Then she said,
“I must tell you at once. A most terrible catastrophe has happened——”
Instantly it occurred to me that she had forgotten having informed me
by letter of all the details of her husband’s death. Such things chance
to people who have once lost their memory. So I tried to look as
sympathetic as I felt, sighed and waited.
“It’s not so bad as all that,” she said with a little shake of her
head, reading my thought as she always had the power to do from the
first moment we met. “We can talk about _that_ afterwards. It’s only
that I hoped we were going to have a quiet two days, and now the
Atterby-Smiths are coming, yes, in half an hour. Five of them!”
“The Atterby-Smiths!” I exclaimed, for somehow I too felt disappointed.
“Who are the Atterby-Smiths?”
“Cousins of George’s, his nearest relatives. They think he ought to
have left them everything. But he didn’t, because he could never bear
the sight of them. You see his property was unentailed and he left it
all to me. Now the entire family is advancing to suggest that I should
leave it to them, as perhaps I might have done if they had not chosen
to come just now.”
“Why didn’t you put them off?” I asked.
“Because I couldn’t,” she answered with a little stamp of her foot,
“otherwise do you suppose they would have been here? They were far too
clever. They telegraphed after lunch giving the train by which they
were to arrive, but no address save Charing Cross. I thought of moving
up to the Berkeley Square house, but it was impossible in the time,
also I didn’t know how to catch you. Oh! it’s _most_ vexatious.”
“Perhaps they are very nice,” I suggested feebly.
“Nice! Wait till you have seen them. Besides if they had been angels I
did not want them just now. But how selfish I am! Come and have some
tea. And you can stop longer, that is if you live through the
Atterby-Smiths who are worse than both the Kendah tribes put together.
Indeed I wish old Harût were coming instead. I should like to see Harût
again, wouldn’t you?” and suddenly the mystical look I knew so well,
gathered on her face.
“Yes, perhaps I should,” I replied doubtfully. “But I must leave by the
first train on Tuesday morning; it goes at eight o’clock. I looked it
up.”
“Then the Atterby-Smiths leave on Monday if I have to turn them out of
the house. So we shall get one evening clear at any rate. Stop a
minute,” and she rang the bell.
The footman appeared as suddenly as though he had been listening at the
door.
“Alfred,” she said, “tell Moxley” (he, I discovered, was the butler)
“that when Mr. and Mrs. Atterby-Smith, the two Misses Atterby-Smith and
the young Mr. Atterby-Smith arrive, they are to be shown to their
rooms. Tell the cook also to put off dinner till half-past eight, and
if Mr. and Mrs. Scroope arrive earlier, tell Moxley to tell them that I
am sorry to be a little late, but that I was delayed by some parish
business. Now do you understand?”
“Yes, my Lady,” said Alfred and vanished.
“He doesn’t understand in the least,” remarked Lady Ragnall, “but so
long as he doesn’t show the Atterby-Smiths up here, in which case he
can go away with them on Monday, I don’t care. It will all work out
somehow. Now sit down by the fire and let’s talk. We’ve got nearly an
hour and twenty minutes and you can smoke if you like. I learnt to in
Egypt,” and she took a cigarette from the mantelpiece and lit it.
That hour and twenty minutes went like a flash, for we had so much to
say to each other that we never even got to the things we wanted to
say. For instance, I began to tell her about King Solomon’s Mines,
which was a long story; and she to tell me what happened after we
parted on the shores of the Red Sea. At least the first hour and a
quarter went, when suddenly the door opened and Alfred in a somewhat
frightened voice announced—“Mr. and Mrs. Atterby-Smith, the Misses
Atterby-Smith and Mr. Atterby-Smith junior.”
Then he caught sight of his mistress’s eye and fled.
I looked and felt inclined to do likewise if only there had been
another door. But there wasn’t and that which existed was quite full.
In the forefront came A.-S. senior, like a bull leading the herd.
Indeed his appearance was bull-like as my eye, travelling from the
expanse of white shirt-front (they were all dressed for dinner) to his
red and massive countenance surmounted by two horn-like tufts of
carroty hair, informed me at a glance. Followed Mrs. A.-S., the British
matron incarnate. Literally there seemed to be acres of her; black silk
below and white skin above on which set in filigree floated big green
stones, like islands in an ocean. Her countenance too, though stupid
was very stern and frightened me. Followed the progeny of this
formidable pair. They were tall and thin, also red haired. The girls,
whose age I could not guess in the least, were exactly like each other,
which was not strange as afterwards I discovered that they were twins.
They had pale blue eyes and somehow reminded me of fish. Both of them
were dressed in green and wore topaz necklaces. The young man who
seemed to be about one or two and twenty, had also pale blue eyes, in
one of which he wore an eye-glass, but his hair was sandy as though it
had been bleached, parted in the middle and oiled down flat.
For a moment there was a silence which I felt to be dreadful. Then in a
big, pompous voice A.-S. _père_ said,
“How do you do, my dear Luna? As I ascertained from the footman that
you had not yet gone to dress, I insisted upon his leading us here for
a little private conversation after we have been parted for so many
years. We wished to offer you our condolences in person on your and our
still recent loss.”
“Thank you,” said Lady Ragnall, “but I think we have corresponded on
the subject which is painful to me.”
“I fear that we are interrupting a smoking party, Thomas,” said Mrs.
A.-S. in a cold voice, sniffing at the air for all the world like a
suspicious animal, whereon the five of them stared at Lady Ragnall’s
cigarette which she held between her fingers.
“Yes,” said Lady Ragnall. “Won’t you have one? Mr. Quatermain, hand
Mrs. Smith the box, please.”
I obeyed automatically, proffering it to the lady who nearly withered
me with a glance, and then to each to each in turn. To my relief the
young man took one.
“Archibald,” said his mother, “you are surely not going to make your
sisters’ dresses smell of tobacco just before dinner.”
Archibald sniggered and replied,
“A little more smoke will not make any difference in this room, Ma.”
“That is true, darling,” said Mrs. A.-S. and was straightway seized
with a fit of asthma.
After this I am sure I don’t know what happened, for muttering
something about its being time to dress, I rushed from the room and
wandered about until I could find someone to conduct me to my own where
I lingered until I heard the dinner-bell ring. But even this retreat
was not without disaster, for in my hurry I trod upon one of the young
lady’s dresses; I don’t know whether it was Dolly’s or Polly’s (they
were named Dolly and Polly) and heard a dreadful crack about her middle
as though she were breaking in two. Thereon Archibald giggled again and
Dolly and Polly remarked with one voice—they always spoke together,
“Oh! clumsy!”
To complete my misfortunes I missed my way going downstairs and strayed
to and fro like a lost lamb until I found myself confronted by a green
baize door which reminded me of something. I stood staring at it till
suddenly a vision arose before me of myself following a bell wire
through that very door in the darkness of the night when in search for
the late Mr. Savage upon a certain urgent occasion. Yes, there could be
no doubt about it, for look! there was the wire, and strange it seemed
to me that I should live to behold it again. Curiosity led me to push
the door open just to ascertain if my memory served me aright about the
exact locality of the room. Next moment I regretted it for I fell
straight into the arms of either Polly or Dolly.
“Oh!” said she, “I’ve just been sewn up.”
I reflected that this was my case also in another sense, but asked
feebly if she knew the way downstairs.
She didn’t; neither of us did, till at length we met Mrs. Smith coming
to look for her.
If I had been a burglar she could not have regarded me with graver
suspicions. But at any rate _she_ knew the way downstairs. And there to
my joy I found my old friend Scroope and his wife, both of them grown
stout and elderly, but as jolly as ever, after which the Smith family
ceased to trouble me.
Also there was the rector of the parish, Dr. Jeffreys and an absurdly
young wife whom he had recently married, a fluffy-headed little thing
with round eyes and a cheerful, perky manner. The two of them together
looked exactly like a turkey-cock and a chicken. I remembered him well
enough and to my astonishment he remembered me, perhaps because Lady
Ragnall, when she had hastily invited him to meet the Smith family,
mentioned that I was coming. Lastly there was the curate, a dark, young
man who seemed to be always brooding over the secrets of time and
eternity, though perhaps he was only thinking about his dinner or the
next day’s services.
Well, there we stood in that well-remembered drawing-room in which
first I had made the acquaintance of Harût and Marût; also of the
beautiful Miss Holmes as Lady Ragnall was then called. The Scroopes,
the Jeffreys and I gathered in one group and the Atterby-Smiths in
another like a force about to attack, while between the two, brooding
and indeterminate, stood the curate, a neutral observer.
Presently Lady Ragnall arrived, apologizing for being late. For some
reason best known to herself she had chosen to dress as though for a
great party. I believe it was out of mischief and in order to show Mrs.
Atterby-Smith some of the diamonds she was firmly determined that
family should never inherit. At any rate there she stood glittering and
lovely, and smiled upon us.
Then came dinner and once more I marched to the great hall in her
company; Dr. Jeffreys got Mrs. Smith; Papa Smith got Mrs. Jeffreys who
looked like a Grecian maiden walking into dinner with the Minotaur;
Scroope got one of the Miss Smiths, she who wore a pink bow, the gloomy
curate got the other with a blue bow, and Archibald got Mrs. Scroope
who departed making faces at us over his shoulder.
“You look very grand and nice,” I said to Lady Ragnall as we followed
the others at a discreet distance.
“I am glad,” she answered, “as to the nice, I mean. As for the grand,
that dreadful woman is always writing to me about the Ragnall diamonds,
so I thought that she should see some of them for the first and last
time. Do you know I haven’t worn these things since George and I went
to Court together, and I daresay shall never wear them again, for there
is only one ornament I care for and I have got _that_ on under my
dress.”
I stared and her and with a laugh said that she was very mischievous.
“I suppose so,” she replied, “but I detest those people who are pompous
and rude and have spoiled my party. Do you know I had half a mind to
come down in the dress that I wore as Isis in Kendah Land. I have got
it upstairs and you shall see me in it before you go, for old time’s
sake. Only it occurred to me that they might think me mad, so I didn’t.
Dr. Jeffreys, will you say grace, please?”
Well, it was a most agreeable dinner so far as I was concerned, for I
sat between my hostess and Mrs. Scroope and the rest were too far off
for conversation. Moreover as Archibald developed an unexpected
quantity of small talk, and Scroope on the other side amused himself by
filling pink-bow Miss Smith’s innocent mind with preposterous stories
about Africa, as had happened to me once before at this table, Lady
Ragnall and I were practically left undisturbed.
“Isn’t it strange that we should find ourselves sitting here again
after all these years, except that you are in my poor mother’s place?
Oh! when that scientific gentleman convinced me the other day that you
whom I had heard were dead, were not only alive and well but actually
in England, really I could have embraced him.”
I thought of an answer but did not make it, though as usual she read my
mind for I saw her smile.
“The truth is,” she went on, “I am an only child and really have no
friends, though of course being—well, you know,” and she glanced at the
jewels on her breast, “I have plenty of acquaintances.”
“And suitors,” I suggested.
“Yes,” she replied blushing, “as many as Penelope, not one of whom
cares twopence about me any more than I care for them. The truth is,
Mr. Quatermain, that nobody and nothing interest me, except a spot in
the churchyard yonder and another amid ruins in Egypt.”
“You have had sad bereavements,” I said looking the other way.
“Very sad and they have left life empty. Still I should not complain
for I have had my share of good. Also it isn’t true to say that nothing
interests me. Egypt interests me, though after what has happened I do
not feel as though I could return there. All Africa interests me and,”
she added dropping her voice, “I can say it because I know you will not
misunderstand, you interest me, as you have always done since the first
moment I saw you.”
“_I!_” I exclaimed, staring at my own reflection in a silver plate
which made me look—well, more unattractive than usual. “It’s very kind
of you to say so, but I can’t understand why I should. You have seen
very little of me, Lady Ragnall, except in that long journey across the
desert when we did not talk much, since you were otherwise engaged.”
“I know. That’s the odd part of it, for I feel as though I had seen you
for years and years and knew everything about you that one human being
can know of another. Of course, too, I do know a good lot of your life
through George and Harût.”
“Harût was a great liar,” I said uneasily.
“Was he? I always thought him painfully truthful, though how he got at
the truth I do not know. Anyhow,” she added with meaning, “don’t
suppose I think the worse of you because others have thought so well.
Women who seem to be all different, generally, I notice, have this in
common. If one or two of them like a man, the rest like him also
because something in him appeals to the universal feminine instinct,
and the same applies to their dislike. Now men, I think, are different
in that respect.”
“Perhaps because they are more catholic and charitable,” I suggested,
“or perhaps because they like those who like them.”
She laughed in her charming way, and said,
“However these remarks do not apply to you and me, for as I think I
told you once before in that cedar wood in Kendah Land where you feared
lest I should catch a chill, or become—odd again, it is another you
with whom something in me seems to be so intimate.”
“That’s fortunate for your sake,” I muttered, still staring at and
pointing to the silver plate.
Again she laughed. “Do you remember the _Taduki_ herb?” she asked. “I
have plenty of it safe upstairs, and not long ago I took a whiff of it,
only a whiff because you know it had to be saved.”
“And what did you see?”
“Never mind. The question is what shall we _both_ see?”
“Nothing,” I said firmly. “No earthly power will make me breathe that
unholy drug again.”
“Except me,” she murmured with sweet decision. “No, don’t think about
leaving the house. You can’t, there are no Sunday trains. Besides you
won’t if I ask you not.”
“‘In vain is the net spread in the sight of any bird,’” I replied, firm
as a mountain.
“Is it? Then why are so many caught?”
At that moment the Bull of Bashan—I mean Smith, began to bellow
something at his hostess from the other end of the table and our
conversation came to an end.
“I say, old chap,” whispered Scroope in my ear when we stood up to see
the ladies out. “I suppose you are thinking of marrying again. Well,
you might do worse,” and he glanced at the glittering form of Lady
Ragnall vanishing through the doorway behind her guests.
“Shut up, you idiot!” I replied indignantly.
“Why?” he asked with innocence. “Marriage is an honourable estate,
especially when there is lots of the latter. I remember saying
something of the sort to you years ago and at this table, when as it
happened you also took in her ladyship. Only there was George in the
wind then; now it has carried him away.”
Without deigning any reply I seized my glass and went to sit down
between the canon and the Bull of Bashan.