George Manville Fenn

“ He expected to see her looking agitated as her cousin, Lydia Lawrence, but she sat back with one arm gracefully hanging over the side of the chair, her lustrous eyes half closed; and a pang strongly akin to jealousy shot through him as it seemed that those eyes were resting on the young elegant at his side.
“Yes,” said the old solicitor, suddenly, and his voice made all start but Miss D’Enghien, who did not even move her eyelids; “as I was saying,” he went on, tapping his snuff-box, “I can tell you very little, Mr Capel, until the will is read.”
“Then there is a will?” said Miss D’Enghien. ”

“ The horribly distorted features were, indeed, those of the footman, and the mystery of the death-chamber began to grow lighter, for it was evident that for some reason he had entered the room in the night. For no good mission, certainly, a short whalebone-handled life-preserver hanging by a twisted thong from his wrist.
The hideous stains upon the kukri were clearly enough explained by the sight of a terrible gash in the man’s throat, and one of his hands was crimsoned and smeared—the one that had left its print upon the quilt, as, in his death struggle, he had rolled beneath the bed. ”

“ It was the butler’s voice, and Paul Capel ran quickly down the stairs to the drawing-room floor, where the old butler, ghastly pale, with his hair sticking to his forehead, had lit half-a-dozen candles and stood them, some on a table, some on the pedestal of the great bronze group outside Colonel Capel’s door.
“What is it? Speak, man!” cried Capel.
“The ladies! Don’t let the ladies come!”
It was too late; they were already there; and the women-servants were dimly seen in the gloom at the foot of the stairs. ”

“ Please,” said Katrine, firmly; and the woman quietly left the room, to take no walk, but to go up to the chamber set apart for her use, and, from long habit in catching rest when it could be found, she threw herself upon her bed, and was soon breathing heavily—fast asleep.
In the adjoining room lay Lydia, with her eyes closed, hour after hour, but painfully awake. No sleep would come to her weary brain, which seemed to grow more terribly active as the time rolled on. She told herself that her love for Capel was madness. ”

“ Lydia rose at once.
“You do not speak,” said Capel.
Katrine did not answer till they reached the door, and then she raised her eyes to his with a long, timid look.
“If Lydia consents, so will I.”
“And you will stay, Miss Lawrence, to help me?” cried Capel, warmly.
“I will,” said Lydia, gravely.
“That’s right,” cried Capel, opening the door for them to pass out, and catching Katrine’s eye for a moment as she passed.
“Curse her! She’s playing a dangerous game,” said Artis to himself, as he watched the ladies leave the room.
Glancing aside, he saw that the old lawyer was watching him narrowly. ”

“ Looking again in the direction of the hand, but telling herself that it was fancy, Lydia sat down to wait anxiously for the doctor’s return, while Capel went on, talking more or less incoherently.
“You know I love you,” he said softly. “Katrine—darling—you will be my wife. Let the world go its own way, what is it to us?”
Lydia’s head sank lower, as the tears of misery began to fall fast.
“The treasure,” he cried, suddenly. “Ha—ha—ha! Let them search for it—months—years. They will never find it. I have it safely. Here. I’ll tell you.” ”

“ In one corner of the room, carefully arranged and hung upon a stand, was a strangely grotesque object, that, in the semi-darkness, somewhat resembled a human figure, but proved to be the tarnished uniform worn by the old officer—coatee, helmet, sword and belts gorgeous with ornamentation, a pair of pistols with silver butts, and a small flag of faded silk and gilt stuff were grouped over a gold embroidered saddle and tarnished shabrack of Indian work. ”

“ The eyes of Gerard Artis were fixed upon the tin box containing the will—the keen look of Katrine D’Enghien on the old Indian servant, as he took a key from his cummerbund—while Paul Capel gazed, with his soul in his glance, on Katrine, ignorant that, with spirit sinking lower and lower, Lydia was watching him. ”

“ Artis was about to continue, “it safe to trust that man?” but, as he spoke, he glanced at Ramo, who was watching him.
“My guide is the series of rules written by Colonel Capel, sir,” said Mr Girtle, coldly.
“Can we see the jewels?” said Katrine.
“Yes; you can show us the treasure,” cried Artis, with a half-laugh. “As we two are to have nothing, we might be indulged with a peep.”
“The treasure is Mr Paul Capel’s, sir,” said the old lawyer; “but, even if he expressed a wish, I could not depart from my instructions. ”

“ It is so absurd for the old man to have left instructions for all this meretricious romance to surround his end. As for old Girtle, he seems to delight in it, and goes about the house rubbing his hands like an undertaker.”
“Katrine!”
“Well, he does. Will read at half-past eleven at night on the tenth day after the old man’s death. It is absurd. Ah, well, I suppose a millionaire has a right to be eccentric, if he likes.”
“Dear Katrine, he was always so good.”
“Good! Bah! What did he ever do for me? He hated my branch of the family, and our Creole blood. ”

“ But he was keenly watching every one the while, and, taking his cue from a mute question addressed by Mr Girtle’s eyes to Paul Capel, he walked solemnly to the head of the heavily hung bed, softly drew back one curtain, and held the candle over his dead master’s mortal remains. ”

“ Later on, old Mr Girtle had his wish, that of giving Lydia away to the man she loved—one who often afterwards told her he wondered how he could have been so blind—blind, he said, as the old place, which was kept, in accordance with the Colonel’s last commands, closed in front, but bright and gay behind, while Paul Capel used to say, “It is astonishing how much human sunshine can be got into a Dark House.” ”

“ You and I have reached the time of life when death has ceased to have terrors. He is only taking the sleep that comes to all.”
There was a gentle sadness in the lawyer’s voice, and then, turning the handle of the door, he opened it and stood looking back.
“You will not be long,” he said. “They are waiting for me in the drawing-room.”
The door closed just as the old Indian made a step forward to follow. Then he stood with his hands clenched and eyes starting listening intently, while the centaur’s club seemed to be quivering in the gloom, ready to crush him down. ”

“ We cannot marry and starve.”
“But tell me, Kate—honour bright—you don’t care for this Capel?”
“I care for him!”
“Tell me, then, what do you mean to do?”
“Have my share of that money,” said Katrine, with a peculiar hardening of her face.
“Bah! I don’t believe the treasure ever existed. It was a craze on the old man’s part.”
“You must be careful. Don’t say or do anything to annoy Paul Capel or Mr Girtle. We must stay here. It was no craze on the old man’s part; maybe I can tell where the fortune is.” ”

“ The old butler! He seemed so quiet and innocent! But often beneath an air of innocency, crime found a resting place.
Then he found himself suspecting Mr Girtle, and on the face of the evidence Capel laid before himself, the case looked very black. He knew everything; he held the keys—he, the old friend and companion, had been left merely a signet ring.
“Impossible!” cried Capel, half aloud; “I might as well suspect Artis, or Miss Lawrence, or Katrine herself.” ”

“ Lydia’s hand had dropped from the doctor’s arm, and she drew a long breath, watching him as if her eyes were drawn to his knife, while he bent over Capel.
In a few minutes more the patient was lifted upon the bed, and Lydia stood there with her hands clasped in dread, for it seemed ominous to her that Capel should be compelled to lie there.
“Can he not be taken up to his room?”
“No, my brave little nurse, no. It would have been extremely nice for him, but what he requires now is absolute rest and quiet. Come, come. You are too strong-minded a little woman to be superstitious. ”

“ But after a long day, night watches grow wearisome to the most ardent lovers, and when, after nine nights spent in expectancy, there was no result—no soft, gliding step heard upon stair or floor, both Capel and Preenham grew weary, and retired to their couches like the rest. ”

“ Lydia shook her head.
“If you love him, my child, wait. It may be to save him, and you would sacrifice yourself to do that.”
And that Mr Linnett went out of the area of the great gloomy house, laughing to himself, and casting up his total, as he termed it.
“Ha! ha! ha!” he exclaimed; “only to think of them knocking their heads about here and there, and never so much as getting warm. Detectives are all fools, so the public say. Blind as bats. They want a better class of men.” ”

“ The girl sprang to her feet and darted out of the room, while Capel, after watching her for a moment or two, closed the door, turned the bolt, and then threw his crush hat upon a table, his black wrapper over a chair, and tore off his white gloves, changing the ivory-handled malacca cane from hand to hand as he did so.
“Home soon,” said Artis, with a sneer, as he slowly walked to the little table, poured out some more brandy, and gulped it down.
“Yes,” replied Capel, gravely. “Thank Heaven I did come home soon. I came to spend an hour alone with the woman I loved.” ”

“ Why don’t those men come up instead of sitting smoking in that dining-room and leaving us alone in this mausoleum of a place? Here, ring, and send for them; I’m getting nervous, too. I’m catching it from you—weak little baby that you are.”
At that moment the door opened, and the two young men entered to go up to them, both speaking to Lydia, and then drawing their chairs nearer to Katrine.
“Are you nearly ready for the play, Mr Capel?” she said, after a time.
“The play!” he exclaimed.
“Yes; the curtain will rise directly. How do you feel, Gerard?” ”

“ Mr Ramo, sir, always rose very early, and called me and Charles; but I was not surprised, for since master’s death, he has slept outside his door, I think—I’m almost sure, though I never said anything to—”
“Man, you are torturing us!” cried Capel.
“Give him time,” said Artis, who looked nervous and strange.
“Yes, let him speak,” said Katrine. “Go on, Mr Preenham, and tell us.”
“Thank you ma’am, I will,” said the butler; “but—but would you ladies go back to your room or the drawing-room, I’ve something—something—”
“I’m not a child,” said Katrine. “Lydia, dear, you had better go.” ”

“ I would not stoop to watch you, but I have seen enough to know you. Go back to your companion—the man who plots and plans with you to gain what you will never find, and do not—”
“Do not what?” cried Katrine, with a malignant look.
Lydia did not reply, but hurried back to where Capel was trying to raise himself up, trembling the while, as he gazed towards the window.
“Look,” he said harshly. “There. Don’t stop, Katrine, love. There is danger. Don’t stop now.”
Katrine’s face wore a strange waxen hue, as she caught the sick man’s hand. ”

“ The cases may have slipped aside.”
“It is impossible,” said the old lawyer; and as they two passed into the iron chamber, Artis exchanged a glance with Katrine, while the old butler stood looking dazed.
“You see,” said Mr Girtle, holding down the light, “there is nowhere for the cases to have slipped; all is of plain, solid steel, without a corner or crack.”
“But underneath,” said Capel.
“Underneath? Look for yourself,” said Mr Girtle; “where there is not solid steel there is solid iron, and beneath that, massive stone. The treasure seems to have been spirited away.” ”

“ It was the natural instinctive act of one who loves seeking to protect the object loved. For as Dr Heston took the knife in his hand, Lydia’s eyes dilated, and she leaned forward, caught the doctor’s arm, and gazed at the keen little blade with dilated eyes. ”

“ The doctor was wiser than the detective thought; but in future visits the latter obtained a good deal of information, among which was the doctor’s theory that Ramo, the old Indian servant, had not died entirely from the struggle with Charles Pillar.
It was just about that time that Gerard Artis swore an oath.
That old Mr Girtle took Lydia’s hand gently between his, and said tenderly:—
“No, no, my child. You must not go. I am very old, and if you were to go now, it would be like taking the light out of my life. I know all; I am not blind. But wait.” ”

“ He had talked several times of going, but Capel begged him not to leave, and he always stayed.
“Well, Preenham, for me?”
“He said you and master, sir—the gentleman.”
“Ah! Linnett. The detective. Will you see him?”
“No,” said Capel, sternly. “I don’t want that affair opened again.”
“But my dear boy—”
“There; very well. Show him up.”
The detective came in, smiling, but only to encounter a stern look in return.
“I’ve called, gentlemen, about that little matter of the notes and jewels that were lost.”
“My good fellow,” said Capel, angrily, “I will not have that matter taken up again. It is dead.” ”

“ The old man raised his hand to the door—let it fall—raised it again—let it fall—turned to go—started back—and then, as if fighting hard with himself, he turned once more, and with an activity not to be expected in one of his years, bounded up the staircase and disappeared. ”

“ Now, if you will excuse me, I’ll go up-stairs.”
“But doctor,” cried Katrine; “is Mr Capel really better?”
“It is hardly just to call him better while this delirium continues; but you know what Sir Ronald said.”
He went out of the dining-room, and ascended the stairs, leaving Katrine with Artis.
“Where are you going?” said the latter.
“Up to Capel’s room.”
“What, again?”
“Yes,” she said, “again.”
“But what have you found out?”
“Wait and see.”
“Wait and see? I’m sick of it all,” he cried, angrily. “I feel as if I were buried alive, and to make matters worse, you’re always away. ”