Kitabı oku: «The Mynns' Mystery», sayfa 17
Chapter Thirty Eight
New Mortar
They hurried to the door as soon as they had recovered from the first shock.
“Look here, sir,” said George, “what shall we do about the dog?”
“Ah, I forgot him. It would be too horrible to let him get into the room where the poor fellow is. Yes, poor fellow! De mortuis, et cetera. Come along, Mr Blank, and we’ll lock the dog in here for a few hours.”
“Good idea,” was the reply; and the outer door of the cellar was locked upon Bruno, who made no attempt to follow; but when they reached the study door, all was perfectly still, and upon George’s turning the handle softly, the doctor quickly raised his head and gave them a nod.
“Got it?” he said. “I’ll have mine here.”
“How is Mr Saul?” said the old lawyer in a trembling voice.
“Unchanged. He will have another paroxysm, though, when the effects of the medicine pass off.”
“Doctor Lawrence,” said George quickly, as he gazed searchingly in the old man’s eyes, “are not these symptoms very similar to those which would occur if a man had been bitten by a savage or mad dog?”
“Almost identical, sir,” said the old doctor. “But Mr Saul assured me that the wound was not a bite, but an abrasure that had gone bad, consequent upon ignorant treatment by a foreign doctor, and was poisoning the blood.”
“Thank you, sir,” said the young man gravely; and as soon as the lawyer had replaced the keys, they quietly left the room, and were on their way to prepare the hot spirit and water, when they stopped short, and Mr Hampton grasped his companion’s arm, as from the cellar, sounding smothered and strange, there came the low howl of the dog.
“We must stop that,” said the lawyer excitedly. “I don’t think I’m at all superstitious, but when you know a patient is in a dangerous state, it is too horrible to have a dog uttering those blood-curdling howls.”
“It does not sound pleasant,” said George thoughtfully.
“Stop a moment; I know,” whispered Mr Hampton; and he went down the passage, and unhooked a baize door fastened back against the wall, the effect being that the sound was deadened, though not destroyed.
“That must do for the present,” he said. “I dread our having another scene with that brute.”
“Is he always as savage and fierce as I saw him?” asked George.
“Oh, dear, no. As a rule the quietest and most docile of animals, but he never seems to have liked Saul Harrington.”
“Is anything the matter?” said a voice in a low whisper, and they found that Gertrude had come softly down the stairs, and that Mrs Hampton was looking over the balustrade.
“No, nothing is wrong,” said George hastily.
“But I heard Bruno howling. Yes: there it is again.”
George explained the reason, and after a few moments’ conversation they were about to return upstairs when, in spite of the closed doors, the dog’s howl came in a deep, low, thrilling tone, and directly after he began to bark in a deep utterance that seemed to vibrate through the house.
“He’ll set that young fellow off again,” said George Harrington sharply. “I’ll try and get him back to the stable.”
“I’ll come and help you,” said Gertrude quietly.
“No; the animal developed such strange ferocity that I don’t think it is safe.”
“Safe? Bruno would not hurt me,” said Gertrude, with a smile.
“Not intentionally, perhaps; but leave him to me.”
There was so much decision in the request – a request which almost sounded like an order, that Gertrude, hardly knowing why, gave way at once, and returned with Mrs Hampton to their room, while in company with the lawyer, George Harrington went back to the cellar door, just within which they could hear the dog snuffing, and every now and then uttering his uneasy whine, followed by a howl.
“What is it, my lad?” said George, with his mouth to the key-hole.
The effect was magical, for the dog seemed to raise himself up against the door, barking wildly, and then they could hear him scratching away the sawdust.
“Lie down, old chap! Lie down, Bruno!” cried George.
There was at this another sharp burst of barking, as if the dog was excitedly striving to get out.
“Shut that baize door, sir,” said George; “and then we must get him out, and back to the stable. He’ll worry the doctor’s patient to death.”
The key was brought forth, and George proceeded to open the door.
“Do you think there’s any danger?” whispered the old lawyer.
“Not a bit.”
“But he seems so savage.”
“Not with me,” said George, as he threw open the door. “Here, Bruno!” he cried.
The dog bounced out, and for the moment it seemed to Mr Hampton that he was about to attack the young man, for he rose on his hind legs, and placed his paws breast-high, barking furiously.
“Come, come; what’s the matter?” said George, seizing him with both hands by the collar. “Don’t you like to be shut up there. Some folks would; eh, sir?”
“I don’t think the brute is safe,” said Mr Hampton. “Pray get him out.”
“Yes, I’ll take him to the stable. Now, Bruno, old chap. Will you lock that door, sir?”
George Harrington had to speak loudly, for the dog was keeping up his excited bark, and mingling it with whines; but the moment the old lawyer moved towards the door the animal dropped down on all fours, shook himself free, and dashed back into the wine-cellar.
“Come out, sir!” cried the lawyer. “I thought he didn’t like the place?”
“Here – Bruno, Bruno!”
The dog responded with a sharp, angry bark, evidently from some distance.
“Oh, I see what it is; he can smell rats.”
“But we can’t have him making that noise in the middle of the night.”
“Come out, sir!” cried George, entering the cellar and calling the dog, who came bounding towards him; but as an effort was made to seize his collar, he sprang round and dashed back.
“Give me the candle, Mr Hampton.”
“No,” said the old man; “you’ll want both hands to him. I’ll light you, or you’ll think I’m a terrible coward. I’m not used to dogs.”
He looked smilingly in his companion’s face, and went to the front.
“I know the cellar better than you do, sir. Good heavens, dog?”
The lawyer and the light were both nearly upset, for as he moved forward Bruno literally rushed at him, but only to turn again and run back right into the depths of the cellar.
“Here, Bruno! Come here, sir!” cried George sternly. “We don’t want to go ratting now.”
But the dog paid no heed to the call, and went on barking furiously, while the next minute they reached the spot where he stood with his head outstretched, making the place echo.
“Come here, you old stupid!” said George good-humouredly; and, taking hold of the dog’s collar with one hand, he patted his head with the other. “Now, then, we don’t want to find rats. Come along.”
The dog looked up in his face, whined, and then swung round and going to the blank patch of whitewashed wall, threw up his head and howled.
“Yes, it must be rats,” said the old lawyer, “behind that bricked-up part. Try and drive him out.”
George Harrington turned sharply on the lawyer.
“Bricked-up part?” he said.
“Yes, there’s another cellar there through that arch, where old Mr Harrington laid down a quantity of wine for his grandson. Well, what is it? Yes; that’s the place.”
George had snatched the candle, and gone to the wall to hold the light close to the whitewashed bricks.
As he did so the dog grew more uneasy and excited, looking from one to the other, and barking at the wall.
“Well?” said the old lawyer, as his companion turned sharply and looked him full in the eyes.
“You said you did not understand dogs, Mr Hampton?”
“No, not a bit; but I think we ought to get this noisy brute out of the house.”
“I do understand them a little,” said George excitedly. “Mr Hampton, there’s something wrong here.”
“What do you mean?”
“You say that is a bricked-up part of the cellar?”
“Yes; the old man did it for his heir.”
“And it has never been opened since?”
“Of course not.”
George looked at the brickwork again, scanning it very narrowly with the candle close to the wall.
“Yes, it has,” he said, taking out his knife, and trying the mortar between the bricks, and then the other parts. “This mortar is comparatively soft.”
“Dampness of the place.”
“Newness of the mortar, sir. That dog, by his wonderful instinct, knows that something is wrong behind here.”
“Then he’s a precious clever dog if he does, that’s all I can say, because if you are right that inner cellar has been robbed and carefully built up again.”
“This cellar has certainly been opened, sir, and built up again,” said George, drawing his breath with a peculiar hiss as a curious suspicion seemed to flash through the dark parts of his brain.
Meanwhile the dog had watched every movement in silence, but only to grow excited again and stand barking.
“I’m of opinion,” said the old lawyer dogmatically, “that Bruno smells a rat, and that you have discovered a mare’s nest. Why, hang it, man, don’t look at me in that ghastly manner. What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know, sir, but I have a horrible suspicion.”
“Good heavens! My dear young friend, what do you mean?”
“I may be wrong, sir, but look at that dog.”
“Yes, I believe he is going mad.”
“I do not, sir. He has made a discovery.”
“Yes, of rats,” said the lawyer pettishly.
“I tell you once more, sir, I may be wrong; but Bruno seems to have found the clue I sought in vain.”
“Clue? – what clue?”
“We have been searching for the man who called himself George Harrington.”
“You have, sir. I have not.”
“Well, I have. It may sound romantic and strange, but at the present moment I have a horrible dread that we have found him at last.”
“What do you mean – where?”
For answer George Harrington pointed to the wall.
“What?” ejaculated the old man, in a hoarse whisper, and he caught at and held tightly by his companion’s arm.
“I have had suspicions flashing about in a vague way in my brain, sir, but I could not arrange them. Now they begin to assume shape.”
“Great heavens!”
“Look here, sir. This dog has been lying half dead ever since the disappearance of that man.”
“Yes.”
“What does he do as soon as he encounters Saul Harrington?”
“Fly at him.”
“Yes. Why should he? Surely he has not been in the habit of trying to get at the throat of a relative and visitor of the house.”
“That’s quite true; certainly.”
“You see the dog is as gentle with us as can be. Go to him yourself, and pat him.”
“I hardly – Yes, I will,” said the old man, mastering his dislike and dread; and, taking a couple of steps forward, he patted the dog’s head. “Why, Bruno, old dog, what’s the matter?” he said in an awe-stricken whisper.
The dog swung round, looked at him, barked loudly, then rose up at him, placing his paws on his shoulders, and howled mournfully.
“There, you see,” said George, laying his hand on the dog’s head. “Mad? No more than we are.”
“But – but what has that to do with your theory of the man’s disappearance?”
“Mr Hampton, I am not going to place it before you in words. My suspicion is that there has been foul play, and unless I am wrong, that man lies murdered behind yonder wall.”
The old lawyer caught him by the arm, and looked in his face with his own turning quite white.
“You horrify me,” he whispered in awe-stricken tones. “Surely it is impossible. Then you think that Mr Saul – ”
“Never mind what I think,” cried George Harrington sharply. “I only say that I have a horrible suspicion that there has been foul play.”
“Then – then,” cried the lawyer with trembling voice, “you – Oh, it is impossible!”
“No, sir; we have heard of such things before.”
“Yes. Then, of course, we must have a search – the police.”
“No, sir; we may be wrong.”
“Yes, yes – of course,” cried the old man eagerly – “Yes; you must be wrong.”
“Look at that dog,” whispered George.
The old man turned to see that the dog was snuffing about the wall, and ended by beginning to tear away the sawdust at the bottom.
“This is too horrible,” whispered the old man, wiping his damp brow. “What would you advise?”
“Finding out the truth, sir; and at once.”
“But how. Whom would you trust?”
“Ourselves,” said George sternly. “Let me see: the gardener is in the house. He must be got rid of, and we must not let the ladies or anyone know what we are going to do.”
“But what we are going to do?”
“You are going to hold the light, sir, while I tear down that wall.”
The lawyer gazed at him in speechless horror, but seemed to yield at once to the stronger mind.
“Bruno!” cried George sharply.
The dog bounded to him.
“Lie down! Watch! Watch!”
The dog uttered a low growl, and followed him as he pointed to the wall, crouched directly, and remained silent and motionless as they left the cellar, and closed and locked the door.
Chapter Thirty Nine
Following the Clue
Just as they reached the hall a door opened upstairs and Gertrude came out, candle in hand.
“Bruno is quiet now,” said George, looking up to her. “I’ll see how Mr Harrington is, and tell you.”
He went quickly to the study, and looked in.
“Quite unchanged,” said the doctor, nodding his head.
“Do you want to be relieved?”
“Oh, no; but you might have remembered me with the spirits and water.”
“I beg your pardon,” said George, and hastily supplying the lapse he had made, he went and reported progress to Gertrude, who smiled her thanks, and returned to where Mrs Hampton was nodding on a couch.
“Had we not better wait?” said the lawyer, in a trembling voice.
“Wait, sir? Impossible. Come with me.”
They went into the kitchen where they were saluted by a heavy snore, and found the gardener fast asleep by the fireside.
He was roused and sent home as not being again necessary; and as soon as the door was closed upon him, George turned upon the lawyer.
“Now, sir, where can I find tools: a hammer and chisel?”
“Tools? Oh, yes. There are some, I believe, in the little room by the garden door.”
He led the way to a little cupboard-like ante-room where garden implements, seeds, and odds and ends were stored; and here the necessary implements were soon found. Armed with these and a fresh candle they returned to the cellar, where the dog was evidently patiently watching their return.
“Stop a moment, my dear young friend,” said the old lawyer, whose face was damp with perspiration, and he laid his hand upon the young man’s arm.
“What for, sir?”
“Don’t you think our proceedings will be a little rash. Suppose the gentleman whom I am bound to look to as the owner of this place returns, and finds how great a liberty we have taken with his place. What am I to say?”
“Mr Hampton, we are going to find him – here.”
“What!”
“And unable to reproach you for what you have done.”
“But surely you do not really believe – ”
“I believe, sir, that I shall find means here of proving to you that I am the man I profess to be – the man whom, in your legal fashion, you refuse to acknowledge; but whom in your heart as a gentleman you know to be your old friend’s grandson.”
The lawyer looked wistfully in the young man’s eyes, and then as he unlocked and took out the cellar door-key, after carefully closing the baize door, he followed him into the mouldy, damp place; saw that he locked inner and outer door, and then as they went to the farther portion found the dog as they had left him in the darkness, crouching by the blank wall.
Mr Hampton drew a long breath but he made no further protest, merely holding the candle as George Harrington threw off coat and vest, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and then taking hammer and chisel proceeded to force the latter between two of the bricks.
There was no need to make any noise by striking with the hammer, for after the first tap the iron chisel was used as a lever, and the first brick soon prized out to show that though the whitewash had dried the mortar was soft enough to give way easily, and before long brick after brick was loosened, thrown into a heap, and a hole was made large enough to admit the passage of a man.
“Lie still!” cried George sharply to the dog, who exhibited a great desire to get through; and kneeling down the young man passed his candle into the inner cellar, crept through, and to his surprise found that the old lawyer did not hesitate to follow him.
“There, sir,” he cried half angrily, as the candle was held up, and they found they were standing in a moderate-sized cellar with a row of bricked-up bins on either side, all neatly whitewashed over and labelled with the name of the wine within, the vintage, and quantity.
George Harrington made no reply, but candle in hand walked over the carefully smoothed sawdust from end to end, peering eagerly at the different bins.
“Well, sir, are you satisfied?” said the lawyer.
“Satisfied, sir? No. Here, Bruno?”
The dog leaped through the hole and uttered a low bark, as he began to snuff about uneasily.
“Good dog! Seek!”
The dog ran excitedly here and there for a few moments, now with his nose in the air, now snuffing at the sawdust, and then he stopped short before the bricked-up bottom bin at the far left-hand corner of the cellar, and uttered an eager bark.
George Harrington drew forth and opened his knife again, tried the blade on the joints of two of the bins, to find that the mortar was hard. Then going to the one where the dog stood watching him, he plunged the point in easily between the bricks.
“Look, sir,” he said hoarsely; “and you can see the whitewash is hardly dry. The proofs of all I have said are in there.”
Chapter Forty
Self-Condemned
Mr Hampton caught George Harrington by the arm, and his voice was low and husky with emotion as he said:
“No, no; in heaven’s name, no. It is too horrible.”
“Horrible enough, sir. Down, Bruno! Watch!”
The dog couched directly, growling low the while.
“Think of Gertrude – my wife. No, no; it is impossible.”
George pointed at the dog.
“I’ve more faith in him, sir, than in our ideas.”
“Then, if it is true, we must have in the police. Let them make the discovery.”
“No,” said George shortly. “If there is a discovery to be made, I’ll be the first to make it; and then we must have in the police at once.”
As he spoke, he attacked the brickwork with the chisel, easily removed one brick, and the others came more easily still.
“These bricks have not been untouched for years, Mr Hampton.”
“No, sir, no,” said the old man feebly, as he wiped his face. “But it may mean a robbery by some old servant – of the wine.”
“Yes, sir, it may,” said George hoarsely, as he worked away hastily, the dog growing more excited as brick after brick was thrown down into the growing heap, his hair about his neck bristling and his hind-quarters all on the move, as if he were gathering himself up for a spring.
The bricks were all laid endwise so as to form nine-inch work, and as they were taken out it was plain to see that some were whitewashed on both ends, others only on one end, and here both ends were whitened; one end was hard and dry, the other, or outer end, had a coating of moist wash. A trifle, but pregnant with meaning to him who worked.
“You have enough out now,” said the old man, holding forward the light. “There: it is a mistake, thank heaven! Look: bottles.”
The light glanced upon the concave bottoms of rows of bottles with laths between, but George Harrington toiled on.
“My dear sir, this is madness,” said the lawyer petulantly.
“Yes, sir: with a method,” said George, working away. “Look; the whole of the brick-laying is fresh. We must have them all out.”
“But what for?”
“Wait,” cried the young man fiercely; and he worked with furious energy till the last brick was removed, and the bin laid bare.
“Now, are you satisfied?” said the old man.
“No.”
The bottles rose from the floor to the iron supported division which formed the place into two, and the top row was drawn out and set on end, first one at a time, then, as there was more room, two by two, till a couple of layers were standing in the sawdust.
Then George Harrington paused and wiped his own brow.
“Now, Mr Hampton,” he said, “if my suspicions are right, there are no bottles behind there, but – what we seek.”
“Then, in heaven’s name, sir, satisfy yourself, and let’s end – Good God!”
He started back, clapping the handkerchief he held to his nose and mouth, as George Harrington thrust his arm through the opening, and drew back a handful of lime, while the dog uttered a hoarse, low growl, and a horrible odour slowly made its way into the cellar where they stood.
Then they started towards the door, for the dog leaped up, barking furiously, as distant cries were heard, sounding muffled and strange, and they could distinguish their names.
By the time they reached the opening George Harrington had first made, the dog was through, and George followed, thrusting his hand back to take the candle.
“Come along, sir, quick!” he said, “and mind the ladies are not told – yet.”
The old lawyer crept through trembling, the cries being plain now those of appeals for help, the dog’s loud barking adding to the excitement, as he stood by the inner door.
But George Harrington did not lose his head. He threw open the inner door, and passed through the first.
“Now close and lock that, sir,” he said, as he laid his hand on the key in the outer door. “Down, Bruno!” he cried in a deep, threatening tone, as the inner door was locked. “Watch, sir. Watch!”
The dog responded with a threatening growl, and tore at the outer door.
“Be ready to slip out, sir. I’ll follow, but this brute must not come. He must be locked in this place.”
“Yes; I understand,” groaned the old man, who was trembling, and looked a pitiable spectacle, with his white face, and his evening dress covered with lime and whitewash.
“Down, Bruno! Watch?” roared George, as he unlocked the outer door and drew out the key.
The dog growled but obeyed, the door was opened enough to let the lawyer pass through, and as he did the cries without sounded terrible, and nearly maddened the dog, who once more sprang at the door. But George seized him by the collar, dragged him back, there was a brief struggle, and he managed to hurl him into a corner, and slip through the door, locking it as he banged it to, and then placing the key in his pocket, he ran through the baize door to where a terrible struggle was going on between Saul Harrington and the doctor, while Mrs Hampton and Gertrude were making the place echo with their appeals for help.
Stirred to the heart by the position in which he saw his old friend, Mr Hampton had rushed to his assistance, but Saul Harrington in his wild fit of delirium made naught of their joint efforts, and was in the act of dashing them off as George Harrington appeared at the study door, and confronted the wretched maniac, who leaped at him with a howl that did not seem human.
There was a desperate struggle for a minute, during which George strove hard to throw Saul Harrington, who fixed his teeth in George’s collar as he grasped him like a vice; and it was only by a sudden wrench that the young man saved his throat. He leaped here and there, and at last, in a despairing effort, George threw all his strength into the lifting of his adversary, but overbalancing himself in the act, they both fell with a crash, and Saul leaped up and darted through the door.
Sick and giddy, George Harrington rose painfully to his feet, and staggered to the door, for a wild cry rang through the house.
“Gertrude!” he groaned, and he made for the passage, only to be driven back by Saul, who passed him and tore through the baize door, which banged to behind him.
“Can you help?” said George hoarsely. “We must master him somehow.”
“Yes, yes,” came from the two old men; and together they followed him as he laid his hand upon the door, panting heavily for breath.
“One moment,” he said, and then in a loud voice, “Gertrude – Mrs Hampton, for heaven’s sake lock yourselves in one of the rooms till this man is secured.”
A low wail came back in answer, but it was followed by the banging of a door.
“Now, gentlemen – and together,” whispered George. “The moment I seize him try your best to throw him down. Never mind me. He must be thrown.”
Nerving himself for the coming struggle, George Harrington flung back the door, and leaped at the maniac, but paused as he saw him striving wildly to get through the cellar door – going through the motion of unlocking it, and impatiently stamping again and again, as the dog bayed furiously within.
“Curse him! He has found it,” he cried hoarsely. “It would have killed any other dog. What’s the matter with this key – now then – beast – devil – must I kill you again? Down, brute! Hush! Curse him, they’ll hear. Ah! has that silenced you? Bite, would you? How sharp his teeth are! But that finished him!”
As he spoke in a low, hoarse, muttering tone he went through the motion of a struggle with some animal, striking at it with an imaginary stick; and then, blind to the presence of those who crept nearer to him to catch him unawares, he seemed to be binding up his injured arm.
“Only mad dogs do harm,” he said with a curious laugh, as he gazed wildly round. “Only mad dogs. Yes, but you’re dead now, brute. Only mad dogs do harm, and you were not mad, you savage beast! There! now what next – what next? Can I – can I think of anything more – the money – the watch and chain – the ring? There’s plenty without them, and some day, perhaps, some day – when he’s forgotten – Yes – George Harrington, I’m – master now. Ah!”
He uttered a wild yell, twisted completely round as if struck by a bullet, and fell face downwards upon the floor.
George Harrington was in the act of springing upon him to secure him, but the doctor caught his arm.
“No need,” he whispered; and stepping forward, he went down on one knee, the light from the guttering candle left upon a side table shining down faintly upon a distorted face, quivering in the last throes of death.
