30 chapters
12 hour read
Selected Chapters
30 chapters
Chapter One.
Chapter One.
John Seward Mervyn lay back in his accustomed armchair, and—looked. The room was of medium size, partly panelled, and partly hung with dark red papering. It was low ceiled, and the bending beams between the strips of whitewash were almost black. This added to the gloominess of the apartment whether by day or night; and now it was night. To be precise it was the stroke of midnight. A bright fire glowed and flared in the wide, old-world chimney grate, but even this failed altogether to dispel a ce
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Chapter Two.
Chapter Two.
Fortunately every inch of the latter was known to him, and shafts of moonlight, darting through the leafless wood aided him appreciably. Still the way seemed interminable, and his progress, weighted as it was, was perforce slow. He knew exactly where to find the spot, and, lo—there it was. “Are you there?” he cried, parting some elder stems, to reach the edge, and thrusting out the ladder along the smooth, shining surface. No answer came, but in the glint of moonlight he could see the shattered,
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Chapter Three.
Chapter Three.
He retraced his steps along the woodland path. The leaves crackled crisply under his tread, and hungry blackbirds shot out swiftly from the hollies, uttering alarmed cachinnations. A little red squirrel clawed itself up a tree bole, and squatting in a fork chirked angrily and impudently at him from its place of safety. But as he walked, he was puzzling hard over the strange and sinister impression which the advent of his unknown guest had instilled within his mind. In the cheery and bracing morn
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Chapter Four.
Chapter Four.
“Talking o’ he,” said the countryman, whom the tragical side seemed to impress not in the least. “I bin over to th’ ice to get that ladder out, but it’s that hard froze in, and that heavy I can’t move it. You’ll have to lend a hand, Muster.” “And a devilish good thing you can’t move it, Joe. Why don’t you see, lying just where it was it’ll furnish a very important item of evidence.” Now old Joe’s stolidity did undergo a shock. That last word conveyed an unpleasant suggestiveness of the atmospher
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Chapter Five.
Chapter Five.
Mervyn showed them into the room and raised the blinds, which he had lowered again after the first discovery. The constable was left in charge of the dogcart. The doctor bent over the dead man and proceeded to make his first examination. The bystanders could not but notice that he looked more than a little puzzled. “We shall have to strip him,” he said, looking up. This was done, the police inspector giving his aid. Mervyn stood and looked on. The body was that of a well-knit, well-proportioned
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Chapter Six.
Chapter Six.
The elder woman’s normally rubicund cheeks had now gone nearly white. “So that’s your last word?” she panted. “I’m afraid so.” “Then go. D’you hear. Go upstairs and pack, and leave this house at once. That is the return I get for my kindness—my charity—in ever taking you into it at all.” Melian Mervyn Seward threw back her head, and straightened herself still more at the ugly word. “Excuse me, Mrs Carstairs,” she said, a small red circle coming into each of her likewise paled cheeks, “but I thin
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Chapter Seven.
Chapter Seven.
“I am a little fool,” she said to herself as she walked away. About two hours later, when in the middle of its longest non-stop run, Marston Seward fell from the train. There were headlines in the evening paper posters, but somehow or other Melian did not notice these. It was not until the next day, when they opened their morning paper, that the tragedy rose up and hit them between the eyes—name, description, everything, for by this time identification had been easily obtained. Melian hardly kne
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Chapter Eight.
Chapter Eight.
“Is he? Well have you any other relation of the name?” “No. Not that I know of. In fact I can’t have—or I should have known it.” “Well then, this one isn’t out in India at all. He’s in England, and not very far from London at that. In fact, only about an hour and a half by rail, if as much.” Melian stared, then raised herself on one elbow. “What on earth are you talking about, Violet?” she said. “I tell you he’s in India.” “Well, people come back from India sometimes, don’t they?” “Yes. But I’ve
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Chapter Nine.
Chapter Nine.
The mysterious end of the mysterious stranger had been very much of a nine days’ wonder. It had puzzled the police, and, more important still, perhaps, it had puzzled the doctors. There had been an inquest of course, and a great deal of disagreement among doctors. Mervyn’s evidence was perfectly straight and to the point; given so straightforwardly too, that none who heard entertained the slightest doubt as to its thorough exhaustiveness; and his narrative of the rescue of the stranger in the fr
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Chapter Ten.
Chapter Ten.
Down a steep road between dark woods, then an opening. A long reach of ice cleft their depth; then a sudden quacking as several wild duck sprang upwards from an open hole by the sluice, and swished high above their heads. “Wild duck, aren’t they?” cried the girl, turning her head to watch them, then looking up the frozen expanse. “Why it might be some lake in the middle of the backwoods of Canada, such as one reads about.” “Yes, so it might. I can tell you you haven’t come into exactly a tame pa
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Chapter Eleven.
Chapter Eleven.
She had clasped both hands round his arm and the blue eyes were sparkling with anticipation. “All right. You shall be Queen of the May, to-day at any rate. But I think we mustn’t overdo it at the start. We’ll lunch early, and then start on a rambling round of exploration—equipped with plenty of wraps.” “And we may get another ripping sunset like yesterday,” she exclaimed. “You are extraordinarily fond of Nature’s effects, child. What else appeals to you?” “Old stones?” “What?” “Old stones. Ruine
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Chapter Twelve.
Chapter Twelve.
“She’ll get about four days off at Easter time. It would be jolly to get her down here then, poor old Violet. She does work, and she’s a good sort. It’s precious lucky I had her to go to when I did.” “Precious lucky for me too.” “Look here, Uncle Seward,” said the girl, gravely. “Don’t talk any more about old fogeys and it being heavy and slow for me, and all that. I don’t want to be disrespectful, but it’s—er—it’s bosh.” Mervyn burst into a wholehearted laugh. The answer, and, above all, the lo
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Chapter Thirteen.
Chapter Thirteen.
“That’s right,” he went on. “Now, look here, you’ve been using that room for over a fortnight, and have never thought of bothering about anything of the kind. Why I slept in it myself for several nights before you came.” He had meant the assurance to be reassuring, but hardly had he made it than Mervyn saw he had made a false step. “But why did you sleep in it, Uncle Seward?” said the girl, quickly. “Eh? Why to see that it was comfortable—not damp and all that sort of thing.” He wondered if she
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Chapter Fourteen.
Chapter Fourteen.
“I don’t want to say anything against Stewart,” went on the last speaker. “I expect he’s an excellent man, in his line. In fact, from what I hear, I’m sure he is—in his line.” “Well, but—what the devil good are any one of us if it isn’t in his line?” said the inspector, feeling rather nettled, but pushing the cut glass decanter—an ingredient of an appreciative public testimonial Tantalus—towards the other as though to cover it. The said other might have smiled pityingly—he felt like it—but did n
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Chapter Fifteen.
Chapter Fifteen.
“Certainly,” assented Mervyn, beginning to think the speaker was a little over enthusiastic, or a little cracked—only he didn’t look the last. “We’ll go up to the road. The path you came down is the shortest.” They went up, Mervyn contriving that the other should lead. When they gained the sluice, Varne stood expatiating afresh, on gables and old chimney stacks. His host was more bored than ever, and was wishing to this and to that he would straightway take himself off as he had come. Would he?
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Chapter Sixteen.
Chapter Sixteen.
“I suppose I must congratulate you on carrying out a practical joke thoroughly when you do undertake one, Mr Mervyn. But at the same time it might prove dangerous with some people. According to British law turning a key on an independent fellow-subject is a ground for action for false imprisonment.” “Law—did you say?” returned Mervyn, in a gouty, gusty sort of way. “Why, I was administering law what time you were being smacked in the nursery—or ought to have been.” This was a pretty nasty one fo
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Chapter Seventeen.
Chapter Seventeen.
Once or twice he had suggested she should ask some girl friend to come and pay her a visit, as a relief from one incessant old fogey, but she had not been in the least responsive. There was no such “relief” required, she had answered spontaneously. She was quite happy as they were. She would like to get Violet Clinock, when the latter could come, but that would not be yet. Meanwhile she was quite jolly as they were. To Mervyn this reply came with an undashed feeling of relief. Stay—not altogethe
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Chapter Eighteen.
Chapter Eighteen.
“Why, Uncle Seward, whatever is it? You look as if you had seen all the ghosts in the world.” “Here, child, show me your hands—quick!” Still marvelling, she extended them. He seized them in his, and subjected them to a long, close scrutiny, first with the palms upward, then all over. The colour returned to his ghastly face as he emitted a long deep sigh of relief. “Yours now, Miss Clinock.” Violet extended hers, feeling in secret rather frightened. What strange mystery was this which had been ef
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Chapter Nineteen.
Chapter Nineteen.
“Why, a few days after I came.” “That warn’t no flittermaouse,” he said. “Yew won’t see none o’ they for—come weeks and weeks. They be all asleep they be.” “But it might have been a stray one.” The old rustic grinned pityingly and shook his head. “That warn’t no flittermaouse,” he repeated. Melian’s eyes opened wider. “What was it, then?” she said. But the old rustic seemed suddenly to become alive to the fact that he had said too much; in short, had been betrayed into overstepping his employer’
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Chapter Twenty.
Chapter Twenty.
But, after all, here she was, and life was happy, she would tell herself; and she had found it so after some experience of it of which this by no means held good. She must make the best of it, and, after all, the best, even by force of contrast, was very good indeed. Yet still, that weird, uncanny oppression—yes, that was the word for it, oppression—came upon her more and more as sure as the hours of darkness set in. And more and more her thoughts reverted to Helston Varne. Why had he not been a
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Chapter Twenty One.
Chapter Twenty One.
“Aren’t they sweet?” whispered Melian. “Such jolly little black things! I’ve caught them two or three times when we’ve been out in the boat fishing, but they get so horribly scared that I’ve never done it again. I’m so fond of all these birds and beasts, you know, that I hate to think I am bothering any of them.” Helston Varne merely bent his head in assent. Curiously enough, just then he did not feel as if he could say anything. A wave of thought—or was it a consciousness—such as he never remem
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Chapter Twenty Two.
Chapter Twenty Two.
“Not, eh?” Then, after a moment of listening—“By Jingo, yes—it is camels.” Now the sound grew audible to all, that of deep toned voices and the roll and rattle of loose stones, and soon, round a bend of the rock wall appeared a characteristic and extremely picturesque group. There might have been ten or a dozen men. The one who led was mounted on a fine camel, but the rest were afoot. Another camel brought up the rear, loaded with baggage. They were tall, hook-nosed, copper coloured men, with je
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Chapter Twenty Three.
Chapter Twenty Three.
“Why it must be some years since I saw him. He must be ageing.” “I should say not. He struck me as a remarkably wiry and energetic sort of man.” “Energetic? Yes. He was too much that,” said the other. “He was always wanting to know everything. In point of fact, strictly between ourselves—he got to know too much.” “Did he? In what direction?” The tone was even, languid; the tone, in short, of a man who is enjoying his after-dinner smoke in the open air after a day of hard healthful exercise. But
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Chapter Twenty Four.
Chapter Twenty Four.
“It is written,” he answered. “Yet, I think, Hussein Khan, the ram that led those three was the father of all markhôr in these mountains, for never did I see a larger one, nor even so large a one. Assuredly the eye of Shaitan is upon our luck to-day.” “Who may say, Hazûr ? Yonder, perhaps, he is.” The man’s face broadened in a whimsical smile, displaying magnificent white teeth. Helston followed his glance. A splendid eagle, black as jet, was soaring in majestic circles over the valley. It alone
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Chapter Twenty Five.
Chapter Twenty Five.
“Oh, I’m sure they will. But—we couldn’t have done with it here, could we?” “No, but I would like to have it all the same. Why, what’s this?” A whirl of dust was coming down the road, and as it drew nearer, they could make out a band of horsemen, clad in the loose white garments of the mountain tribes. Through it, too, as the gleam of weapons. “Oh, it’s some of these picturesque people, and they are so fascinating,” cried the girl. “It’ll be quite a sight to see them ride past.” The road ran abo
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Chapter Twenty Six.
Chapter Twenty Six.
But he shook a gloomy head. A network was around him—around them both—which even Helston Varne’s acumen and infinite resource would be powerless to rend asunder. This he knew, but she did not, and—he could not tell her. He had been very careful in his conversations with her, and had enjoined upon her like caution. It was highly probable, but still not absolutely safe to assume, that no one amid their captors understood English. She suggested French, but then Mervyn’s education, though excellent
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Chapter Twenty Seven.
Chapter Twenty Seven.
And then, as if to give point to her words, a tall figure seemed to grow out of the earth beside them. A murmured sentence or two, and as in response to it he rose. “Sit still, darling, and wait for me,” he said. “I have to go and talk with some of them, and it will be wearisome—especially as it interrupts our talk about good old times.” He rested one hand lovingly upon the gold-crowned head, and then passed out with the man who had come to summon him. He would not even take a real, long farewel
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Chapter Twenty Eight.
Chapter Twenty Eight.
“I don’t wonder you’ve got—er—something of a shock,” said Helston Varne, looking at him with a touch of concern. “It was a beastly ordeal, but it had to be gone through with.” “But—why didn’t you contrive to let me know—to tip me the wink somehow?” asked Mervyn helplessly. “It’d never have done. It’d have bungled the whole show. These worthies’ faculties are much too keen to take any risks with. But now there’s no time to talk. We must get along, and every blessed yard of start we steal is worth
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Chapter Twenty Nine.
Chapter Twenty Nine.
There was misgiving in the hearts of all three men as they reached the edge of this. Would they be able to cross it. They were familiar with similar freaks in the wild mountain country, but this one was of gigantic proportions. In the regular wet season they might as well try to cross a quaking morass, but there had been little rain of late, still even that little was enough to turn such a place into a slough. But there was nothing for it. It was the only way through. The alternative was to retr
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Chapter Thirty.
Chapter Thirty.
The other nodded. “I’ll astonish you still further, Mervyn,” he said. “Before it got there it reposed under a roundish topped stone on the sluice path. You transhipped it while you had me locked up in the cellar yonder.” “Wrong there, Varne,” said Mervyn, with something of a chuckle, “but not altogether though. I did transfer that one, but it wasn’t the one you found. That was kindly delivered here since, and it was the one I stowed away upstairs temporarily. By the way I take it you have some i
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