The papers lay before me, and I was still under the spell of the fatal
revelation when the clock struck two. The chiming of the hour awoke me
as it were, and my mind became busy with thought of my own concerns.
Reginald's doom was pronounced. Never must he and Gabriel Carew's
daughter be allowed to wed. Death were preferable.
The house was very still; for hours I had not heard a sound, even the
chiming of the clock falling dead upon my ears, so engrossed had I
been in the papers I had perused. But now, surely, outside the room I
heard a sound of soft footsteps--very, very soft--as of some one
creeping cautiously along. I do not know why, when I opened the study
door, I should do so quietly and stealthily, in imitation of the
caution displayed by the person in the passage; but I did so. The
moment, if not propitious, was well timed. As I opened the door
Gabriel Carew reached it. He was completely dressed; his eyes were
open; upon his face was an expression of watchfulness so earnest, so
intent, so thorough, that it was clear to me that his mental powers
were on the alert, and were dictating and controlling his movements.
In his hand he held a dagger.
His eyes shone upon me, and had he been awake he could not have failed
to recognise me, and would surely have spoken. But he made no sign. He
paused for scarce an instant, and passed on, brushing my sleeve as he
crossed me. Here before me was the fatal proof of the working of his
unhappy inheritance.
My first impulse was to follow him, for the dagger in his hand boded
danger; and I should have done so had it not been for another
occurrence almost as startling.
With a loose morning gown thrown over her, Mrs. Carew glided to my
side, and put her hand upon my arm. Her feet were bare, there was a
distressful look in her eyes, she was trembling like an aspen. So
pallid was her face and her lips were quivering so convulsively, that
I feared she was about to faint; but an inward strength sustained her.
"You saw him?" she said.
"Yes," I answered, and then said "Hush! Draw aside."
He was returning. The open door of the study, and the lights within,
had produced an impression upon him, and were evidently the cause of
his return. He entered the study, and traversed it, examining every
corner to convince himself that the person upon whom his mind was
intent was not in the room. Satisfied with the result of his search,
he left the room slowly and walked onward to the stairs which led to
the front door of the house.
"I must follow him--I must follow him," murmured Mrs. Carew.
I restrained her. "You are not in a fit state," I said. "Let me do so
in your place."
"Yes," she said, "it will be best, perhaps. You are a man, and have a
man's strength. How can I thank you? Go--quickly, quickly!"
"A moment," I said, my head inclined from her; I was listening to the
sounds of Carew's movements; "he has not yet reached the lower door.
There are bolts to draw aside, locks to unfasten, a chain to set
loose. What do you fear?"
"If he and Emilius meet there will be murder done!" She spoke rapidly
and feverishly; it was no time for evasion or disguise. "Since Mr.
Carew left you in the study," she said, "he has been greatly excited.
The gardener brought us news of Emilius. He has been seen prowling
about the grounds and examining the doors and windows of the house to
discover a means of entering it when we were asleep."
"That is not the conduct of an honest man," I said, shaken by the
information in the opinion I had formed of Emilius.
To my astonishment she cried, wringing her hands, "He is justified, he
is justified! We have been denied to him, and he has come here with a
fixed purpose, which he is bent upon carrying out."
"And you wish me to understand that he is justified in so doing?"
"Yes, I have said it, and it is true. Were you he, you would do as he
is doing. Unhappy woman that I am! Do not ask me to explain. There is
no time now. Hark! I hear the bolts of the door being drawn aside. Go
down quickly, if you are sincere in your wish to serve me. For my
sake, for Mildred's, for Reginald's!"
She was exhausted; she had not strength to utter another word. It may
be that I was not merciful in addressing her after this evidence of
exhaustion and prostration, but I was impelled to speak.
"I shall be down in time to prevent what you dread. You ask me to
serve you for the sake of Mildred and Reginald. My son is all in all
to me; he is my life, my happiness, and knowing what I now know I see
before him nothing but misery. It is this fatherly concern for his
sake that urges me to extract a promise from you that you will explain
at a more fitting moment the meaning of your words. You will do so?"
She nodded, and I left her and went down the stairs. Carew had opened
the door, and was peering out. It was a clear night; there was no
moon, but the stars were shining. I was quite close to Carew, but he
took no notice of me; he was not conscious of my presence. Had he left
the house and closed the front door behind him, he would have been
unable to re-enter it unobserved; the door could not be opened from
the outside. With singular foresight he stooped and selected a stone,
and fixed it at the bottom of the door so that it could not close
itself of its own volition. Having thus secured an entrance, he went
out into the open.
I followed him at a distance of a few yards, neither adopting special
precautions to keep concealed, nor taking steps to obtrude myself on
his notice. Had it not been that I was wound up to a pitch of intense
excitement I might have risked a rude awakening of him, but I was
impressed by a conviction that there was still something for me to
learn which, were he awake, might be hidden from me. Therefore, I
contented myself with watching his movements. It was a wonder to me
that he made no mistakes in the paths he traversed, that he did not
stumble or falter. He walked with absolute confidence and precision,
avoiding low-hanging branches of trees which would have struck him in
the face had he been unaware of their immediate vicinity. Nothing of
the kind occurred; there was not the slightest obstruction that he did
not intelligently avoid; he did not once have occasion to retrace his
steps. And yet he was asleep to all intents and purposes but one--that
upon which his mind was fixed. When I saw him two or three times
pause, with a slight upraising of the dagger, which he clutched firmly
in his hand, I knew what that purpose was--I knew that, had he seen
Emilius, he would have leapt upon him and stabbed him to the heart,
and that then, unconscious of the crime, he would have returned to his
bed with an easy conscience. Strange indeed was the double life of
this man--the life of sweetness, kindness, justice in his waking
moments, of relentless, cruel purpose while he slept. In alliance with
the proceedings of which I was at that time a witness, came to my mind
the pronouncement of the skilled authorities whom Carew's father had
consulted--that should the fatal inheritance transmitted to him take
its worst form, the key-note might be found in the affections. It was
demonstrated now. Emilius, his enemy, had found his way to his home;
the safety and happiness of his wife and child were threatened; and
he, prompted by his love for them, was on the watch to guard them,
animated by a stern resolve to remove, by an unconscious crime, his
enemy from his path. I thought of the tragic occurrences which had
taken place in Nerac while he was courting the pure, the innocent
maiden Lauretta, and I was weighed down by the reflection that justice
had erred, and that the innocent had suffered for the guilty. It was a
terrible thought, and it was strange that it did not inspire me with a
horror of the man whose footsteps I was following. I felt for him
nothing but compassion.
For quite an hour did Carew remain in the grounds searching for his
foe without success. To all outward appearance only Carew and I were
present. He saw no stranger, nor did I. On three occasions, however,
he paused close to a copse where the undergrowth, more than man high,
was thick. On each occasion he stood in a listening attitude, passing
his left hand over his brow as though he were doubtful and perplexed,
and on each occasion he moved away with lingering steps, not entirely
convinced that he was not leaving danger behind him. The bright blade
of his dagger shone in the light as he stood on the watch; there was
something of the tiger in his bearing. Short would have been the
shrift of his enemy had he made his presence known on any one of these
occasions. A fierce, sure leap, a thrust, another and another if
needed, and all would have been over.
At length the search was ended, at length Carew was satisfied of the
safety of his beloved ones. He returned slowly to the house.
Had I been aware of his intention I should have slipped in before him,
but I was not conscious of it until he stood by the door, and I a
dozen yards in his rear. It was too late then for me to attempt to
precede him. He stooped and removed the stone which he had fixed in
the door to keep it free, stood upon the threshold for the briefest
space, confronting me, and, with a sigh of relief, passed in and
closed the door behind him. I heard the key slowly and softly turned,
heard the bolts as slowly and softly pushed into their sockets, heard
the chain put up. Then silence.
What was I to do? There was, within my knowledge, no other way into
the house. To knock and arouse those within would have brought
exposure upon me. There was nothing for me to do but to wait for
daylight. Disconsolately I walked about the grounds, disturbed by the
thought that I had left the study open, and the papers I had read
loose upon the writing-table. I found myself by the copse at which
Carew had three times paused in doubt, and was startled by the sudden
emergence of a man from the undergrowth. By an inspiration I leapt at
the truth.
"You are Emilius," I said.
"I am Emilius," was his reply.