The Mysterious Visitor.
If any one had told me I was a coward, I should have been very
indignant, and I think rightly so; but I must confess that I lay and
trembled, as I looked through the open window, and wondered who had
screamed and what was the matter. The steps in the wall, the white
figure skulking among the bushes, and finally the scream; was that
not enough material wherewith to make a very nice little chapter of
horrors? Never had I so much regretted my helplessness. If I had
only been able to walk, nothing would have prevented my going
upstairs and telling Rupert that I thought Jack had got into trouble;
as it was, I could only exercise my brains for some other way to let
him know.
Mother came in just then, and exclaimed at my white face. That was
the best thing that could have happened. I made her promise not to
get Jack into further trouble, and then I told her all about it. She
went into the garden at once, and found him lying on the ground
writhing with pain, with his foot caught in a man-trap, which he had
himself found in the loft the day before, and put in the path out of
mischief, and then forgotten to remove it.
Cautioning him not to struggle, for he would only make the pain
greater and get more firmly fixed, she ran to find father, who came
with some men to release the prisoner.
[Illustration: "FATHER CAME WITH SOME MEN TO RELEASE THE PRISONER."]
Father then carried him into the room where I was lying, and put him
on a sofa near me. "It has broken your ankle, I'm afraid," he said,
examining Jack's foot carefully. "Send George for the doctor at
once, Mary." Then poor father walked up and down the room as if he
were worried almost out of his mind.
"I was after the ghost," said Jack, presently, in a timid voice; "I
was creeping behind him, and was just close up when my foot was
gripped by that thing. I believe I screamed once; if so, he heard
me, and won't come again."
"Don't talk such nonsense," said mother, who had returned by this
time. "There are no such things as ghosts."
"Of course, I know that," said Jack, recovering a little of his usual
spirit. "The ghost I was after wore a white mackintosh coat and a
pair of big sailor's boots. I wonder--oh, Edric, do you remember the
footmarks in the mud?"
"What of them?" said father, sternly. "Do you remember, young
gentleman, that you are a prisoner, and have no business at all out
of that room; and here you are with a broken ankle talking nonsense
about ghosts and footmarks in the mud. Why did you leave the tower
when I told you not to do so?"
"For two reasons, uncle. First, I wanted to see Edric. You see we
all like Edric, and we felt----" a little pause, and Jack seemed to
choke; "we felt sorry about yesterday. I dreamt of fingers all
night, uncle, indeed I did--covered with blood, too."
"Go on," said father, gravely.
"Well, we wanted to know how Edric was. The servant who brought our
meals was as dumb as any old monk who had promised never to speak, so
we couldn't get anything out of her. I was standing by the window at
about eight o'clock, wondering whether I dared climb down the ivy and
run round to the dining-room to see Edric, when all of a sudden I saw
something moving in the bushes. I put my head out without saying a
word to the others, who were all busy writing to tell father and
mother how naughty we have been; and what do you think I saw? A man,
in a white coat and sailor's slouch hat, beginning to climb up the
ivy. I waited till he had got half-way up, and then I sneezed; like
this." Jack sneezed so naturally that we all laughed. "That's the
way I get the windows shut at school if it's cold. Mother told Mr.
Barton to be particularly careful that we didn't catch cold; so when
we want the windows shut I just keep on sneezing till he does it."
"What happened next?" asked father, speaking in his natural manner
for the first time since our escapade.
Jack's sensitive nature felt the change at once. "You should have
seen him," he said, brightly. "He dropped down like a cat, and
bolted."
"Did he look up?"
"I don't know. I took my head in quick, for fear he might owe me one
if he should ever see me again. I waited a minute, and then climbed
down after him. I couldn't see him anywhere, so I went to look at
Edric."
Now, although I have told you all that my cousin said without any
breaks, you must remember he had a broken ankle, and many times he
stopped in great pain in the middle of a sentence. Father noticed
this; and as soon as he had heard all that he required, he put his
hand on Jack's head and told him to lie quietly till the doctor came.
"You can't think of all the dreadful things I was going to do to
you," he said. "You will learn some day that everything we do wrong
brings its own punishment. It does not come perhaps directly, as
Edric's lost finger and your broken ankle did; but it does come, my
boy."
"But he wanted to help you, father," I said, hastily, sorry that my
hero should be looked upon as a culprit.
"That was right enough, laddie; but he set to work the wrong way. It
is no use doing evil that good may come; good never does come in the
end from such work. He should have obeyed me first, and helped me
afterwards."
It was a bit of a puzzle to me then; but now that I am older, I know
that father was right. As it was, I am afraid that I was not as
grieved about Jack's broken ankle as I should have been. For the
next few days, at all events, I knew he would be my constant
companion, for he would lie on the sofa near me.
Nothing more was said by my parents about our mysterious visitor,
though, of course, Jack and I were never tired of talking about him.
We made him out to be everything in turns, from a Russian nobleman to
a London burglar in disguise.
Thursday evening came, and brought welcome release to the other
prisoners in the tower-room; and on Friday morning my two bearers
came and carried me off to the den, where we talked till it was a
wonder our tongues did not ache.
They had heard nothing about the cause of Jack's accident, and great
was their amazement when they were told of the stranger who knew so
well the way to the tower-room.
"How long is it since this room was used?" asked Rupert.
"It has never been used that I can remember," I replied. "Mother
thought it would make a good playroom for you because it is so far
away. When I first came into it with her, it was thick with dust,
and had nothing in it but that oak chest and this chair."
"Then I'll be bound that man knows more about it than you do," said
Rupert. "You'll find out some day; I only hope it will be whilst we
are here."
[Illustration: Chapter VII tailpiece]
[Illustration: Chapter VIII headpiece]