A RAY OF LIGHT
A sense of expectation, an uneasy feeling of momentous events about to
happen, hung over the doomed Ravenspurs. For once, Marion appeared to
feel the strain. Her face was pale, and, though she strove hard to
regain the old gentle gaiety, her eyes were red and swollen with
weeping.
All through breakfast she watched Ravenspur in strange fascination. He
seemed to have obtained some kind of hold over her. Yet nothing could be
more patient, dull, and stolid than the way in which he proceeded with
the meal. He appeared to dwell in an unseen world of his own; the
stirring events of the previous night had left no impression on him
whatever.
For the most part, they were a sad and silent party. The terror that
walked by night and day was stealing closer to them; it was coming in a
new and still more dreadful form. Accident or the intervention of
Providence had averted a dire tragedy; but it would come again.
Ravenspur made light of the matter. He spoke of the danger as something
past. Yet it was impossible wholly to conceal the agitation that filled
him. He saw Marion's pale, sympathetic face; he saw the heavy tears in
Vera's eyes, and a dreadful sense of his absolute impotence came upon
him.
"Let us forget it," he said almost cheerfully. "Let us think no more of
the matter. No doubt, science can explain this new mystery."
The speaker's sightless eyes were turned upwards; he seemed to be
thinking aloud rather than addressing the company generally. Marion
turned as if something had stung her.
"Uncle Ralph knows something that he conceals from us," she cried.
Ralph smiled. Yet he had the air of one who is displeased with himself.
"I know many things that are mercifully concealed from pure natures like
yours," he said. "But as to what happened last night I am as much in the
dark as any of you. Ah, if I were not blind!"
A strained silence followed. One by one the company rose until the room
was deserted, save for Ralph Ravenspur and his nephew Geoffrey. The
handsome lad's face was pale, his lips quivered.
"I am dreadfully disappointed, uncle," he observed.
"Meaning from your tone that you are disappointed with me, Geoff. Why?"
"Because you spoke at first as if you understood things. And then you
professed to be as ignorant as the rest of us. Oh, it is awful! I--I
would not care so much if I were less fond of Vera than I am. I love
her; I love her with my whole heart and soul. If you could only see the
beauty of her face you would understand.
"And yet when she kisses me good-night I am never sure that it is not
for the last time. I feel that I must wake up presently to find that all
is an evil dream. And we can do nothing, nothing, nothing but wait and
tremble and--die."
Ralph had no reply; indeed there was no reply to this passionate
outburst. The blind man rose from the table and groped his way to the
door with those long hands that seemed to be always feeling for
something like the tentacles of an octopus.
"Come with me to your grandfather's room," he said. "I want you to lend
me your eyes for a time."
Geoffrey followed willingly. The bed room was exactly as Ravenspur had
quitted it, for as yet the housemaid had not been there.
"Now look round you carefully," said Ralph. "Look for something out of
the common. It may be a piece of rag, a scrap of paper, a spot of
grease, or a dab of some foreign substance on the carpet. Is there a
fire laid here?"
"No," Geoffrey replied. "The grate is a large open one. I will see what
I can find."
The young fellow searched minutely. For some time no reward awaited his
pains. Then his eyes fell upon the hearthstone.
"I can only see one little thing," he said.
"In a business like this, there are no such matters as little things,"
Ralph replied. "A clue that might stand on a pin's point often leads to
great results. Tell me what it is that attracts your attention."
"A bronze stain on the hearthstone. It is about the size of the palm of
one's hand. It looks very like a piece of glue dabbed down."
"Take a knife and scrape it up," said Ralph. He spoke slowly and
evidently under excitement well repressed. "Wrap it in your handkerchief
and give it to me. Has the stuff any particular smell?"
"Yes," said Geoffrey. "It has a sickly sweet odor. I am sure that I
never smelt anything like it before."
"Probably not. There, I have no further need of your services, and I
know that Vera is waiting for you. One word before you go--you are not
to say a single word to a soul about this matter; not a single soul,
mind. And now I do not propose to detain you any longer."
Geoffrey retired with a puzzled air. When the echo of his footsteps had
died away, Ralph rose and crept out upon the leads. He was shivering
with excitement; there was a look of eager expectation, almost of
triumph, on his face.
He felt his way along the leads until he came to a group of chimneys,
about the center one of which he fumbled with his hands for some time.
Then the look of triumph on his face grew more marked and stronger.
"Assurance doubly sure," he whispered. His voice croaked hoarsely with
excitement. "If I had only somebody here whom I could trust! If I told
anybody here whom I suspected they would rise like one person, and hurl
me into the moat. And I can do no more than suspect. Patience, patience,
and yet patience."
From the terrace came the sound of fresh young voices. They were those
of Vera and Geoffrey talking almost gaily as they turned their steps
toward the granite cliffs. For the nerves of youth are elastic and they
throw off the strain easily.
They walked along side by side until they came to the cliffs. Here the
rugged ramparts rose high with jagged indentations and rough hollows.
There were deep cups and fissures in the rocks where a regiment of
soldiers might lie securely hidden. For miles the gorse was flushed with
its golden glory.
"Let us sit down and forget our troubles," said Geoffrey. "How restful
the time if we could sail away in a ship, Vera, away to the ends of the
earth, where we could hide ourselves from this cruel vendetta and be at
peace. What use is the Ravenspur property to us when we are doomed to
die?"
Vera shuddered slightly and the exquisite face grew pale.
"They might spare us," she said plaintively. "We are young and we have
done no harm to anybody. And yet I have not lost all faith. I feel
certain that Heaven above us will not permit this hideous slaughter to
continue."
She laid her trembling fingers in Geoffrey's hand, and he drew her close
to him and kissed her.
"It seems hard to look into your face and doubt it, dearest," he said.
"Even the fiend who pursues us would hesitate to destroy you. But I
dare not, I must not, think of that. If you are taken away I do not want
to live."
"Nor I either, Geoff. Oh, my feelings are similar to yours!"
The dark violet eyes filled with tears, the fresh breeze from the sea
ruffled Vera's fair hair and carried her sailor hat away up the cliff.
It rested, perched upon a gorse bush overhanging one of the ravines or
cups in the rock. As Geoffrey ran to fetch the hat he looked over.
A strange sight met his astonished gaze. The hollow might have been a
small stone quarry at some time. Now it was lined with grass and moss,
and in the center of the cup, which had no fissure or passage of any
kind, two men were seated bending down over a small shell or gourd
placed on a fire of sticks.
In ordinary circumstances there would have been nothing strange in this,
for the sight of peripatetic hawkers and tinkers along the cliffs was
not unusual.
But these men did not belong to that class. They were tall and spare;
they were clad in dingy robes; on their heads were turbans of the same
sad color. They were dark of feature, with thin faces and ragged beards.
In appearance they were singularly alike; indeed, they might have been
twin brothers some time past the prime of life.
From the shell on the ground a thick vapor was rising. The smell of it
floated on the air to Geoffrey's nostrils. He reeled back almost sick
and faint with the perfume and the discovery he had made. For that
infernal stuff had exactly the same smell as the pungent drug which had
come so near to destroying the life of Rupert Ravenspur only a few hours
before.
Here was something to set the blood tingling in the veins and the pulses
leaping with a mad excitement. From over the top of the gorse Geoffrey
watched with all his eyes. He saw the smoke gradually die away; he saw
a small mass taken from the gourd and carefully stowed away in a metal
box. Then the fire was kicked out and all traces of it were obliterated.
Geoffrey crept back again to Vera, trembling from head to foot. He had
made up his mind what to do. He would say nothing of this strange
discovery to Vera; he would keep it for Ralph Ravenspur's ears alone.
Ralph had been in foreign parts and might understand the enigma.
Meanwhile it became necessary to get out of the Asiatics' way. It was
not prudent for them to know that a Ravenspur was so close. Vera looked
into Geoffrey's face, wondering.
"How pale you are!" she said. "And how long you have been!"
"Come and let us walk," said Geoffrey. "I--I twisted my ankle on a stone
and it gave me a twinge or two. It's all right now. Shall we see if we
can get as far as Sprawl Point and back before luncheon?"
Vera rose to the challenge. She rather prided herself on her powers as a
walker. The exercise caused her to glow and tingle, and all the way it
never occurred to her how silent and abstracted Geoffrey had become.