THE SILENT HOUSE AND THE FOLKS THAT DWELT THERE
A sleepless night was Laurence's portion when, tired out, he flung
himself upon his bed.
The mystery was deepening in an alarming fashion, and its intricacies
were such as did not conduce to quiet sleep. That he had at last
actually encountered his father's enemy he was quite convinced, but he
was no nearer being able to account for the strange creature's enmity or
even to recognise its identity than before he had met with this last
adventure.
A few facts about the unknown creature were very apparent. Firstly, it
was strangely agile and cunning; secondly, its voice was as remarkable
as its agility, which was hardly human; thirdly, it was in possession of
a bicycle, and yet was unable to obtain food and clothing without having
recourse to theft; fourthly, it was of peculiarly small stature for a
man; and lastly, it was able to use firearms, but with the loss of the
pistol it had probably been deprived of its only offensive weapon,
since it had not ventured to attack its assailant in the barn.
Laurence used the word "it" because he was in no way decided in his own
mind as to whether the thing was a man, a woman, or, the idea occurred
to him, neither of these two. Not that he believed it to be something
that was not human, but because the marvellous manner in which it had
scaled the barn walls was so suggestive of the monkey race. The idea
that the creature in the barn was a species of monkey he at once
decided, of course, to be absurd. A monkey might have stolen the missing
coat and dinner, have thrown the hay down in order to cover its retreat,
and have uttered that piercing shriek on being hurt, but it was hardly
likely to be able either to ride a bicycle or use a pistol.
That it was a woman was more possible, and the young investigator's
foundation for the idea was the remark of Miss Scott that her friend had
declared the person lurking in the Marquis's garden to be a black woman
"with coloured skirts." This remark, it will be remembered, was very
probably the cause of the Squire's sudden illness at luncheon, shortly
after the arrival of Mrs. Knox and her niece.
A woman might have performed all the feats that the unknown person had.
She might have set light to the Marquis's house, believing the Squire to
be yet in the building; she might have followed the carriage on a
bicycle on discovering that the man she was dogging had left (though how
she came to have a bicycle was a mystery in itself); she might have
"held up" the carriage and attempted to murder the old gentleman; and it
was just as possible (or impossible) for her to clamber up the barn wall
as for a man to do so. To be sure, she must be a very remarkable woman.
Since she was "black," she might be a negress or certainly some
foreigner. Uncivilised and fierce she certainly was. But how came it
that a negress (if such were the case) had so bitter an enmity against
the harmless old Squire that it was the cause of all Mr. Carrington's
careful precautions, and of the spirited attack on the high road? The
mystery seemed hopelessly incapable of solution.
Morning came at last, and found Laurence no further advanced with his
investigations. At one time he had decided to summon a detective, but
recollecting how the Squire would take such an intrusion he considered
it advisable to work alone.
What the relations of the woman (suppose it to be a woman) in the barn
and the disguised man who had purchased the dog whip were, he had not
yet ventured to guess, but one thing was quite plain: they were in some
way connected.
A fruitless effort had been made to attempt the solution of the problem
through the "woman" servant in the Dene. Equally impossible would it be
to obtain any information from the Squire. The idea of conversing in any
way with the woman (?) in the barn (even if she were yet hiding there)
was more than ridiculous. Consequently, the original scheme was the only
one left which seemed in any way possible.
Laurence felt that the sole remaining course open to him was to
interview "Major Jones-Farnell"!
During breakfast (at which meal the Squire did not appear) he cast all
meditation and worry aside for the time being, and set himself to the
task of entertaining the two ladies. Mrs. Knox, however, wanted little
entertainment. A good breakfast was quite sufficient for her!
With Lena it was different. Two of her greatest charms were her vivacity
and the brilliancy of her conversation, and both these characteristics
were brought into play during the breakfast-table talk that ensued--talk
that naturally enough, in Mrs. Knox's presence, contained no allusion to
the subject uppermost in Laurence's mind, if not in that of both.
Consequently, the morning meal was prolonged to a somewhat unusual
length. The young man could not help thinking that (in his own words)
but for the mystery which he had set himself to solve, he would be
"making a fool of himself and falling in love."
He was certainly given plenty of opportunities to do so, for Mrs. Knox
made a point of retiring, as was her custom, at the conclusion of
breakfast, after charging Lena to write a line to the Marchioness of
Moorlands asking if she could be of any assistance to that lady or her
husband in their present uncomfortable position.
"I'll get the letter written first of all," said Miss Scott to Laurence,
after her aunt's departure, "and then you must show me some more of your
lovely country. As a letter takes me about three-quarters of an hour to
compose, I should recommend you to devote that short period of
recreation to having a quiet smoke by yourself! Then, after your play,
you can prepare yourself for some good hard work, for I want to be shown
the woods, the church, and everything else there is worth seeing in the
neighbourhood." And with a smile she bustled away upstairs.
Here was Laurence's opportunity. If he waited until Lena's return she
would probably insist upon accompanying him on his visit to Durley
Dene. This he did not mean to allow. If, as he deemed very possible,
the visit might not be without a dangerous element, Miss Scott must
certainly not share that danger. So, without any hesitation, Carrington
took his cap, and, leaving the house, made his way by a short cut to the
entrance of the Dene. The gate was not locked, so he passed through,
walked with a bold step up the dark avenue of swaying firs, and,
entering the ruined old porch, pulled the rusty handle of the bell with
energy.
A distant clang disturbed the weird silence of the seemingly deserted
mansion, but the bell was not answered, though Laurence waited for many
minutes, deliberating in his mind the course of action he should take
when admitted.
Once again he gripped the bell-pull, and dragged it out of its socket as
far as it would go. Once again, too, did the harsh sound re-echo from
within. This time the clang had hardly died away before a noise of
shuffling footsteps was distinctly audible to Laurence's alert ear. The
footsteps approached, the sound betraying the fact that the stone floor
of the lobby was uncarpeted. Then there followed the metallic click of a
bolt being drawn back, and the door swung open until slightly ajar.
Laurence saw that the porter, whoever he was, had carefully fastened it
with a chain that allowed an aperture of a few feet only.
Simultaneously he saw part of a face that was glaring out at him. Though
the interior of the house seemed uncommonly dark, he was able to
recognise the features of the person in the doorway as those of the
disguised man whom he had encountered on the highroad the previous
night!
"Well, what do you want?" was the gruff greeting that proceeded from
within.
"I wish to see Major Jones-Farnell," replied Laurence coldly.
"Oh, then he can't see you," came the reply, and the door was about to
close again.
"Wait," cried Carrington, placing his foot against it; "I'm your
neighbour, the Squire's son, and I am desirous of making the Major's
acquaintance."
"I tell you, you can't see him. He's engaged. Take your foot away."
"All in good time, my friend. Do I understand that you refuse to take my
message to Major Jones-Farnell?"
"That's about it. And, d'yer hear, take your foot out of the doorway, or
I'll put it out for you."
"Be very careful, my good man," exclaimed Laurence. "I know who you are.
You're the man who struck me last night when disguised as a woman. I
know you. There's something mysterious going on in this house, and I
shall not stop until I've solved it. Admit me at once to your master, or
whoever the owner of this house is, or I go at once to the police and
obtain an order to search the place on suspicion. My father is a
magistrate----"
"So you think there's a mystery about this house, do you? Well, you're
finely mistaken this time, my beauty. Even if there was a mystery it
would take more than the likes of you to get to the bottom of it."
So saying, by sheer force the man thrust Laurence's foot back, banged
the door, and shut down the bolt, leaving young Carrington in the same
atmosphere of mystery as before.
And after the shuffling footsteps had died away down the corridor,
unbroken silence once more fell upon Durley Dene.