for a moment neither spoke.
"dear boy, how late you sit up!" said mr. francis, coming into the room; "it has already struck one. you were asleep, i think, when i came in, and i was unwilling to awake you. but now tell me, is harry all right?"
geoffrey by this time had every sense alert: he felt perfectly cool and collected, and saw his policy stretching away in front of him like a level, well-defined road.
"yes, harry, by a miracle almost, is alive and unhurt," he said.
"ah! i knew it, i knew it," said mr. francis below his breath.
geoffrey paused a moment.
"you knew what?" he asked very deliberately.
"i knew he had been in great danger," said the other; "i had the strongest premonition of it. you remember seeing me this morning come back after i had started? i came back to warn harry. yet how absurd he would think it! i was deliberating about that when you saw me at the door, and wondering what i could say to him.[pg 256] then i told myself it was a ridiculous fancy of mine, which would pass off. but all day it has clung to me; do what i would, i could not shake it off; and this evening i came down here to see if all was well. you spoke of harry having been in great danger. tell me what happened, my dear boy."
"he nearly shot himself in the gun room this morning," said geoffrey. "he took up his gun, which was standing in a rack close to the window, and it went off, narrowly missing him!"
"but it missed him completely?" asked mr. francis. "he was not touched?"
"if he had been touched he would not be alive," said geoffrey, lighting a cigarette, and looking at mr. francis very intently. "the velocity of shot at such very short range is considerable."
mr. francis made a very slight movement in his chair, more of a tremor than a voluntary motion.
"terrible, terrible!" he said. "what awful fate is it that dogs poor harry?"
geoffrey paused with mouth half open, a little wreath of smoke curling from the corner of it.
"in what other way has an awful fate dogged harry?" he asked.
mr. francis replied almost immediately.
"those three accidents he had last spring," he said. "how strange they were! they quite unnerved me."
"he was thinking of the ice house," said[pg 257] geoffrey to himself with absolute certainty. "that was a mistake." then, aloud. "they were not so very serious," he said.
"no, but uncomfortable. and then to-day!"
"yesterday, you mean," said geoffrey, trying to trap him.
mr. francis looked up inquiringly.
"true, yesterday. how exact you are, my dear fellow! i had forgotten that it was, as the irish say, to-morrow already. but how awful, how awful! that was what my strange premonition meant."
"it is odd that your premonition should have lasted all day," said geoffrey, "when the danger was over by half past ten this morning."
for half a second mr. francis's face altered. the perturbed, anxious look which he had worn throughout the interview gave place, though but for a moment, to a trouble of a different type. annoyance, you would have said, became more poignant than his anxiety.
"yes; the whole feeling i had was unaccountable," he said. "but poor harry! what an awful moment for the dear lad! but how could a cartridge have been in the gun? what frightful carelessness on kimber's part! he can not have cleaned it after harry used it last."
again geoffrey paused with his mouth slightly open. mr. francis, he considered, was on dangerous ground.
"that was in february," he said; "eight[pg 258] months ago. i can not imagine, somehow, the cartridge being there all this time."
"he was shooting in scotland, was he not?" asked mr. francis.
"yes; but a man would not carry a loaded gun in the parcel rack," said geoffrey. "it is more usual for a gun to be taken to bits, and put in its case when one goes by train. besides, as a matter of fact, harry didn't take that gun to scotland. there are other circumstances as well which lead me, at any rate, to a different conclusion—a different way of accounting for the accident," he corrected himself.
"what circumstances?" asked mr. francis. "do get on, my dear boy: i am in dreadful anxiety to learn all about this awful thing. oh, thank god, there was no harm done!"
before the words were out of his mouth geoffrey, who for the moment had hesitated what to tell him, made up his mind. he stifled a yawn, and splashed some whisky and soda into his glass.
"oh, various circumstances," he said in a slow, well-balanced tone of indifference, as if the subject were wearisome. "one, of course, must be well known to you. you had used harry's gun yourself two days ago—the day we came down here. you wounded a hare, do you not remember, close to the pheasant feed, and returned home after firing only one shot? you also, unconsciously no doubt, transferred the second cartridge from the left barrel to the right. you will hardly remember that? but it explains,[pg 259] at least, why the left barrel was clean. then your idle rascal of a man, who i am told always cleans your gun, omitted to do it, and there remained a cartridge in it. that, at least, is how harry and i put the thing together!"
mr. francis's hands went suddenly to his head, as if they had been on wires, and he clutched despairingly at his hair.
"it is true—it is all too true!" he moaned. "i did use harry's gun. i did fire one shot only two days ago. can i have left the other cartridge in? it is possible, it is terribly possible. ah, my god! what an awful punishment for a little piece of carelessness! ah, what a lesson, what a lesson! supposing he had shot himself—oh! supposing——"
geoffrey watched him for some few moments in silence, as he rocked himself backward and forward in his chair.
"well, well," he said at length, "there is no harm done. a few shillings' worth of lath and plaster will pay for the damage; oh, yes, and an extra penny for the cartridge, as harry said. but it nearly filled the bag and something more at one shot, like mr. winkle."
this very cold and unsympathetic consolation had an astonishing effect on mr. francis. his rockings ceased, his hands left his head, and by degrees his face again assumed a sad smile.
"dear lad," he said, "you have such invaluable common sense! there is certainly no use in crying over milk which is not spilt. what[pg 260] you said was like a douche of cold water over an aching head; yes, and an aching heart. but, tell me, is harry very angry with me? does he blame me, as he has every right to do, very severely?"
"no, he is inclined to laugh at the whole thing," said geoffrey. "he knows, of course, what a simple and in a way a natural accident it all was. he is no more angry than he was yesterday, when——" and he stopped suddenly, remembering his promise to harry not to tell mr. francis of the ice-house occurrence. but dearly would he have liked to have broken his word.
again a remarkable change took place in mr. francis's face; and geoffrey, even in the middle of this midnight fencing match, thought what a marvellous quick-change artist he would have made if only he had decided to devote his undeniable talents to that innocuous branch of art. his smile was not: a frightened man sat there, moving his lips as if his mouth were dry.
"yesterday—what of yesterday?" he asked.
"nothing," said the other shortly. "i, like yourself just now, had forgotten that it was already to-morrow. do you know, i am very sleepy?"
this was not ill done, for mr. francis could scarcely refuse to accept an excuse which he had himself offered, and geoffrey could scarcely prevent smiling. but as soon as mr. francis spoke again, he was again absolutely intent on their conversation.
[pg 261]
"it is too bad to keep you up," said he, "but positively you must tell me more about this dreadful accident. what else, what else?"
"there is nothing more—to tell," said geoffrey, pausing designedly, for his immediate object was now to thoroughly frighten mr. francis, and he meant to do it slowly and firmly. "what more, indeed, could there be? it was over in a moment. partly, i am afraid, by your fault, partly by your man's, a cartridge was left in harry's gun. oh! by the way, since you are anxious for minuti?, there is one more tiny point that might conceivably interest you. there seemed to me—i happened to be looking at harry—some slight resistance somewhere when he took the gun up. he took hold of it, you understand, and then gave it a jerk. it has occurred to me, very forcibly in fact, that this resistance, whatever it was, was the cause of the gun going off."
"the trigger perhaps caught in the edge of the carpet," suggested mr. francis.
"i don't think so," said geoffrey carelessly.
"well, something of the kind," said mr. francis. "or, again, it may have been pure imagination on your part."
"i don't think that either," said geoffrey. "a gun even when loaded and at full cock, as this one must have been, does not naturally go off when handled. besides, i found, when i examined the place——" he stopped suddenly, and looked up at mr. francis. quick as a lizard, fear[pg 262] unmistakable and shaking leaped there for a moment, and was as quickly gone.
"you found—?" he asked, under his breath.
"ah! you remind me: i found a little thing, a very little thing, which may, however, turn out to be important. oh, it is ridiculous! i can not really tell you. i will keep it to myself, please."
"really, my dear geoffrey," said mr. francis, "you tell a story, and stop when you come to the point."
"i know," said geoffrey, "and i apologize. anyhow, i have made a scrupulous examination of the place, and have taken note of a small circumstance. again i apologize."
suddenly this nocturnal visit began to show in a different light in geoffrey's mind. mr. francis had come here, it is true, at an hour when he might reasonably expect the house to be in bed, but it was still unlikely that he had taken this trouble, and run even so small a risk of detection, simply to learn the result of the morning's accident. what if he had come here for something more reasonable—to destroy, perhaps, some little piece of evidence, the evidence it might be which lay even now in geoffrey's cigarette case?
"of course i will not press you, my dear geoffrey," he replied. "but consider whether it would not be better to tell me."
geoffrey paused, this time because he really wanted to think.
"why?" he said at length. "either this occurrence was pure accident, or it was a foul attempt[pg 263] on harry's life. yes, that sounds horrible, does it not? but certainly it was either the one or the other. now, carelessness seems to account very largely for it. you left a cartridge in the gun, your servant did not clean it. but supposing one had reason to think that there was foul play, i should take this evidence to the police; and you may be sure, at whatever cost to harry's feelings, and of course yours, at making the affair public, i will do so at once, the moment i can form, or that i think they can form, a conclusive series of evidence."
he got up on these words and turned to light a bedroom candle.
"well, good-night," he said; "we shall see you at breakfast."
"no, my dear boy, you will not," said mr. francis; "and, geoffrey, you must not tell harry i have been here. i am almost ashamed of my foolishness in coming, but that presentiment of evil, which was so strong in me all day, drove me. no, i shall be gone again, before any one is stirring, and breakfasting in town while you lazy fellows are still dressing, i dare say."
geoffrey thought a moment.
"as you will," he said. "by the way, how did you get in?"
"i got in by the front door," said mr. francis. "it was left unlocked; very careless of the servants."
"very, indeed. did you lock it?"
"yes, and i was just stealing upstairs when[pg 264] you awoke. i had meant to go very quietly to harry's room, and just look at the dear lad, to satisfy myself he was all right. if i had not had the good fortune to find the door open, i should have passed the night in the summerhouse, and just seen that all was well in the morning. i hope harry will speak to templeton about the door."
"but how will harry know, unless he knows of your coming?"
"ah!" mr. francis paused a moment. "i will leave it unlocked; indeed i must, when i go out. you can then call his attention to it. good-night, my dear boy; i shall go to my room too. i will sleep on the sofa very comfortably."
geoffrey turned into his room with slow and sleepy steps, shut the door and locked it. then he undressed very quickly, and over his nightshirt put on a dark coat. he was too full of this appearance of mr. francis, and of wonder what it really meant, to waste time in mere idle contemplation of it, and he sat on his bed, following out end after end of tangled conjecture.
harry's safety during the hours which had to pass before morning was his first thought, but that he speedily dismissed. "i have frightened the old man," he said to himself with strong satisfaction. "i have made him tremble in his wicked shoes. no, he dare do nothing to-night. there is a witness that he is here, that he arrived secretly after dark, and left before morning. no, harry is all safe for to-night, but i am glad i woke."
geoffrey lay back on his bed, keenly interested[pg 265] in what lay before him, but astounded by the possibly imminent issues. hitherto his life had always run very easily, a pleasant, light business; but now suddenly there were thrust into his young and inexperienced hands the red reins of life and death, reins that governed or governed not horses that he could but indistinctly guess at. but the reins were in his hands; it was his business, and now, to steer as well as he could between god knew what devils and deep seas. a thousand directions were open to him; in all but one, as far as he could forecast the future, lay disaster. a solution and a rescue he felt there must be, but in what direction did it lie? to go now to harry's room, what risk was there, what fear of eyes behind curtains; and once there, what sort of reception would he meet? harry had gone to bed nearly three hours ago, and must he be plucked from his sleep to hear this wild tale—a tale so full of conjecture, so scant in certainties? and if he heard it, what, to judge by geoffrey's previous knowledge of him, his only guide in this lonely hour, would be his manner of taking it? one only, he knew it well: bewildered surprise and scorn that one whom he had accounted friend should bring him so monstrous a tale. that he must certainly expect, indignant speech, or silence even more indignant, and a rupture that could not easily be healed. no, to go to harry now would in all probability mean to sever himself from him, and this in the hour of dark need and danger.
geoffrey got up from where he was lying and[pg 266] walked silently with bare feet up and down the room. then he stripped off coat and nightshirt, and sluiced head and neck with cold water. he felt awake enough, but stupid from sheer perplexity, and he was determined to give his faculties, such as they were, every opportunity for lively and wise decision. there had been, for instance, some train of instinctive thought in his mind when he had shut the door, but dressed himself for possible action. his brain had told him that he did not mean to go to bed yet; had it not told him something more? his action in putting on dark coverings had been perhaps involuntary; it was his business now to account for it.
ah! the door by which mr. francis had entered—that was it. he did not believe that he had come in, as he said, by the front door, for the noise of its opening and shutting—the noise, too, of the lock which he said he had turned after he had come in—must have awoke him from a sleep that had never quite become unconsciousness. a clock had struck, it is true, the moment before he was completely roused, and he had not heard it; but how often, he reflected, do one's ears hear the clock strike, yet never convey the message to the brain! it was far more likely that the slight stir of movement made by mr. francis as he peeped round the inner door leading to the staircase had awoke him. how, then, was it possible that he should have opened, shut, and locked the heavy front door, have crossed the hall, and yet never have broken in upon his doze? besides, the[pg 267] face that looked at him was that of a man peeping into a room, not of one leaving it. it seemed then very likely that mr. francis had not entered by the front door; it was also hardly possible that it should not have been locked at nightfall by the servant who put up the shutters.
then another difficulty occurred. since mr. francis had by his own account locked the front door when he came in, it would be locked now. but he intended to leave the house before the servants were up, and would unlock it then, leaving it unlocked when he left. on the other hand, supposing that geoffrey's suspicions were correct, and he had not come in by the front door, nor intended to leave the house that way, he would certainly unlock it before any one was about in the morning. this, then, was the first point: would mr. francis unlock the front door before morning, and would he leave the house that way? if not, how had he got in, and how would he get out? it was likely also, more than likely, that if geoffrey's darker suspicions were well founded, mr. francis would pay a visit to the gun room, for there was no question that "the little circumstance" which he had hinted at had been of more than common interest to the other.
at this moment, in his soft pacings and thoughts, there came a little gentle tap at his door. he stood exactly where he was, frozen to immobility, a step half taken, in his hand the towel with which he had been mopping his hair. a second or two later the tap was repeated, very softly.
[pg 268]
geoffrey was in two minds what to do. it was possible that this small-hour intruder was harry, some nameless terror at his heart; it was possible, again, that mr. francis was outside, ascertaining whether he was asleep, with some specious excuse on his lips in case he was awake. but if it was harry, whatever he needed, some louder and more urgent summons was sure to follow—a rattling of his door handle, his own name called. but after the second tap there was silence.
geoffrey knew how long a waiting minute seems to the watcher, and deliberately he looked at the hands of the clock on his mantelpiece till two full minutes had passed. then he slipped on his coat again, little runnels of water still streaming from the short hair above the neck, put the matches in his pocket, blew out his candle, and with one turn of each hand held his door unlatched and unlocked. the wards were well oiled, the noise less than a scratching mouse, and he stood on the rug of the threshold warm and curly to his bare feet. next moment he had closed the door behind him, though without latching it, and was in the long, dark corridor running from the top of the main stairs by the hall to the far end of the house where were mr. francis's two rooms.
geoffrey's bedroom was close to the head of the stairs, and the faint glimmer of the starry night filtering through the skylight by which they were lit made it easily possible to find his way down. these stairs lay in short flights, with[pg 269] many angles sufficiently luminous, but on getting to the first corner he stopped suddenly, for on the wall in front of him was a pattern of strong light and shade: the many-knobbed banister was imprinted there, cast by a candle. but in a moment the shadow began to march from left to right; the light therefore was moving from right to left; some one else, and well he knew who, was also going downstairs at this dead hour, three turns of the staircase ahead of him. silently moved the shadow; no sound of the candle-bearer reached him, and he might reasonably hope that his own barefooted step was as inaudible to the night-walker as the night-walker to him. then the shadow of the banister was suddenly turned off, another corner had been passed by the other stealthy tread, and geoffrey moved on again and down.
this staircase at its lower end gave on to a corridor parallel and similar to the one upstairs from which the row of bedrooms opened. immediately on the right was the door into the hall, round which, but an hour ago, mr. francis's face had peered; to the left were drawing-room and dining room, and at the far end the baize door leading into the flagged passage to the gun room. two panes of glass formed the upper panels of this door, and geoffrey, having reached the bottom of the stairs, saw two squares of light cast through these on to the ceiling of the corridor. they lengthened to oblongs, diminished again to vanishing point, and disappeared, leaving him[pg 270] once more in the dim filter of starlight. mr. francis, it was clear, had gone to the gun room. here was the first point.
opposite the foot of the stairs, but on the other side of this corridor, stood a tall verd-antique pedestal, on the top of which was a bust of harry's father. a dark curtain hung behind this, setting off the whiteness of the carrara bust, and geoffrey was just considering the value of this curtain as a hiding place in case mr. francis (the other point) went through the hall for any purpose of juggling with the front door, when the square of light through the glass panels again reappeared, silent as a dream, but growing very rapidly brighter. in two steps he was across the corridor, but he had not yet got behind the curtain when the baize door opened again, and mr. francis reappeared. but now his step was quick and careless of noise, and geoffrey, casting one glance at him before he stepped behind the curtain, saw rage and hunted fear in his face. and at that the thrill of the tracker awoke in him, and he hugged himself to think of the little piece of cotton in his cigarette case; its value, to judge by the baffled hate that came up the passage, was immeasurably increased. then he slid behind the curtain.
the steps came nearer very quickly, muffled but audible, and paused opposite geoffrey's hiding place. then for a moment his heart stood still, for they turned not toward the hall, but pattered swiftly upstairs. he had thought harry[pg 271] safe for the night, at any rate, but what could be safe from that mask of rage and hatred he had just seen?
in another moment he would have followed at all costs, when light again shone round the corner of his curtain, and the unseen steps passed where he stood and into the hall. instantly geoffrey slipped from his hiding place, stepped silently across the corridor, and mounted a few stairs. from there he could see mr. francis's movements in the hall; from there also he had a good start of him to the upper floor again. the snap of a lock, the grating jar of a bolt, drawn or withdrawn, followed, and having heard that he waited no more, but went swiftly up again to his room and closed the door behind him quickly but with elaborate noiselessness. soon light footsteps came along the passage outside; they went by his door, by harry's, and grew fainter. the closing of a distant latch was just audible, then all was darkness and silence. the first part of the night's work was over.
geoffrey lit his candle again, smiling with a certain grimness to himself. his next move, evolved during this last half hour of waiting and listening, had a simple ingenuity about it which pleased him. it meant another journey to the hall, after a precautionary pause, and the only apparatus required was a little piece of stamp paper. so at the end of a quarter of an hour he went downstairs again and examined the front door. bolt and lock were undrawn: mr. francis's[pg 272] visit, then, had been to undo them, so that they should be found unlocked in the morning. this was on all fours with his private theory, and after a little consideration he secured the door again, partly for the safety of the house, partly for the sake of giving mr. francis something to think about, if he did leave the house that way. then, standing on a chair and reaching up to his full height, he stuck the piece of stamp paper across the meeting of the door and jamb. thus no one could open it without tearing the paper.
one thing more remained, and that for the sake of his own peace of mind. at risk of waking him he went to harry's room and looked in. harry was lying on his side fast asleep, and, shading his candle, geoffrey waited till he heard two evenly-taken breaths. so far, then, all was well.
he slept but lightly and in broken snatches after the excitements of these hours, and it required no great deed of violence on his inclinations to enable him to get up early. in the cool, accustomed daylight the things of the night seemed to have more of the texture of dream than reality, but proof of them awaited him when he went to the front door, for the little piece of stamp paper was whole and unbroken, the door still locked and bolted. then, to make doubly sure of the reliability of his experiment, he himself undid the door and opened it, and the stamp paper was torn in half. it was not by this exit, then, that mr. francis had left the house.
harry made his appearance at an hour not[pg 273] unusually late, with a perfectly normal face and manner; no sound of last night's excursions had reached him. they talked in their usual desultory fashion, but geoffrey's mind was preoccupied with the yet unsolved problem. he felt certain that mr. francis had some secret way in and out of the house, and it should be the next piece of business to discover what that was. had he come in by some back door, or through an unbolted window, he would have told him so last night; but he had said he came through the front door, a thing impossible. but the subject of a secret door was easy to approach.
"i'm working all the morning, geoff," said harry; "what will you do with yourself? poke and potter with a gun, if you like. we'll ride this afternoon."
"i'll poke and potter," said he, "but without a gun, i think. i feel yew-hedgy this morning."
"i thought you did," said harry cordially, "but i have no idea what you mean."
"that is just a little slow of you," said geoffrey. "it means that i shall look behind tapestry and tap panelling, and find a secret staircase."
"do. i'll give you a shilling for every secret stair you find."
"done. anything extra for a secret door?"
"door is two," said harry; "concealed will be ten, skeleton fifteen; other objects will be valued by arbitration. baron von vail has kindly consented to be arbitrator," he added, in a burst of futility.
[pg 274]
"fifteen is a little too low for a skeleton," said geoffrey. "it would fetch more than that at a medical shop."
"well, twenty, if you like, but you don't raise me again. well, i'm off."
"where to?"
"to work, you lazy cow."
"yes, but where?"
"smoking room. if you want to do any panel-knocking there, come and do it at once. what a baby you are!"
geoffrey rose.
"the search is going to be exhaustive," he said. "i'll begin with the smoking room."
there ensued a couple of dusty and hope-deferred hours. from the smoking room, which yielded no results at all, he went to mr. francis's rooms, which he had fixed upon as being the most likely place for the conjectured passage to communicate with, but the strictest scrutiny of the panelling revealed nothing. he tapped every foot of it, and every foot sounded promisingly hollow, yet nothing of any sort could he discover which should yield him even a sixpence. there were cupboards of the most alluring probability; all wore the aspect of concealment, yet all declined to yield their secret.
geoffrey had never been in this room before, and after a fruitless search he took a look round before leaving it. orderly and industrious were the indications of its master; docketed papers lay neatly in little heaps, and the appurtenances of its[pg 275] stationery were finished and complete. each set of papers had its elastic band, each its note of contents in red ink; two sets of penholders lay in separate trays, and the examination of the nibs showed that mr. francis was of that rare type of man who dedicated without violation certain pens to black ink, certain others to red. the pencils were all well sharpened, ink eraser was there as well as india rubber, and a taper of green wax was ready for the sealing of important envelopes. all this had a curdling fascination for geoffrey, but at present he was on the hunt for shillings, and a detailed examination of a writing table brought him no nearer them.
the whole of the second floor he searched without success, except in so far that the discovery of gaunt, chilly bedrooms, in which a lively imagination might conjure up a pleasing thrill, could be reckoned a reward to his labours. over most was the trail of the plumber; electric bells and light had been newly introduced, and these modern improvements jostled strangely with the faded medi?val discomfort of large, gloomy beds and tapestried hangings. like the poor lion with no early christian, these seemed to mourn the absence of murderous deeds; a suitable stage was set, but no actor trod the boards.
it was a somewhat disheartened adventurer who began his search on the ground floor, for the ground floor, he could not but remember, would bring but a small bill of steps to swell his revenues, unless, indeed, the yet undiscovered staircase[pg 276] proved to lead into the basement, and that possibility lent him fresh vigour. but dining room, billiard room, and both drawing-rooms were searched without result, and the hall was become practically the last cover. here, indeed, something might be expected; tapestry covered two sides, the other two carried portraits, and again his search became minute. but half an hour was fruitlessly spent, and there remained only the fireplace side, where hung the portrait of old francis.
geoffrey looked at this a moment for inspiration.
"he knew all about it, i'll be bound," he said to himself. "why can't the old brute speak?"
looking at it thus, he noticed for the first time that the panel in which this picture hung was different from the panelling over the rest of the hall, which was all of linen pattern. but this one panel was plain, except for a row of small circular bosses which ran round it at wide intervals; and geoffrey, goaded by the thought of his last good chance, mounted a chair and handled each of these in turn. the second he tried moved to the touch, and as, with a sudden upleap of hope, he turned it, something clicked within, and the whole panel, portrait and all, swung slowly out on a hinge. there seemed to be a narrow passage in the wall, continuing to right and left of the picture.
geoffrey stood a moment on the chair, holding the panel from swinging farther, puzzled.
[pg 277]
"he can't have jumped down from there," he said to himself. "perhaps there is another door somewhere else. anyhow he has his exits and his entrances," and the quotation seemed to him extraordinarily apt.
he got down, after securing the panel again, and started to tell harry. but after a few paces his legs literally refused to carry him in that direction. the secret was his by right of trove, he must make the first joyful exploration alone. again he turned the knob, and from his chair vaulted easily into the panel. the passage led right and left into darkness, and he would have jumped down again to get matches, when he saw in a little recess in the wall a candle with matches by it. this was eminently convenient, and due no doubt to mr. francis's thoughtfulness, and after lighting up he pulled the panel ajar, and, after satisfying himself that the catch was of the simplest kind, latched it back into its place.
two thoughts were in his mind as he waited for the red wick of the candle to grow black again: the one, the further tracking of the game he had definitely roused during the night; the other, sheer childish pleasure in a story of adventure come true. alas for the stockbroker! he cared no more for the shillings; there was a dark passage in the wall, and the imperishable child within him trembled and smiled; mr. francis, the man felt sure, had used this passage last night. here was double cause for excitement and joy. the candle burned more bravely, and two ways[pg 278] were open. like all right-handed folk, his impulse was to turn to the left, and, obeying it, he travelled six yards or so of a level, rough-floored passage. on his right ran the courses of bricks in the main wall, a little dark and mildewy, on his left the panelling of the hall. a turn at right angles, at the corner no doubt of the hall, disclosed a flight of wooden steps leading downward. here the stockbroker awoke; he greedily counted them, and ten shillings were his. but the stockbroker, it seemed, was a gentleman of second-rate vitality; he awoke from his torpor but to count, and slumbered again, leaving the child and the hunter to go their way.
at the bottom of these steps geoffrey paused a moment to recollect his bearings. he had entered the secret way on the short side of the hall; the steps therefore were on the long side of it, and on the garden side of the house. but inasmuch as the passage, when he entered it, was some six feet above the ground level of the hall, these ten downward steps would bring him back to ground level again. he was therefore walking in the outer wall of the hall on a level with the floor. this clear, he went slowly on.
suddenly he was confronted by a blank brick wall, straight in front. but on the right hand the regular courses of the brick were interrupted by a panelled wooden oblong, some five feet high; beyond this, up to the wall that ended the passage, the courses went on again. in the middle of it was a round wooden handle; straight below it on[pg 279] the floor ran two flanged metal lines. laying hold of this handle, he pulled at it, and on each side of the wooden panel opened a jagged edge of light, irregular and full of angles. it drew inward some three feet till it reached the end of the metal lines, running smoothly but with a sense of great weight. sunlight poured in, and geoffrey stepped on to the lawn outside and regarded his discovery. indeed, it had been a cunning brain and hand that had devised this. the house wall outside here ran in courses of small brick, and the opening of this door drew these inward irregularly. the top of the door, for instance, was four bricks in length, but the second row of bricks detached numbered six; below that again was a course of four withdrawn, then one of five, then one of six again. the joining was fitted with extreme accuracy; here the interspace of mortar between the bricks would move with the withdrawn piece of wall, here it would remain on the wall in place; detection of the line of the door to one who did not know where to look, even to one who did, would be nearly impossible.
regarding it more closely, another thing struck him: halfway down the withdrawn portion was a broken edge of brick, and taking hold of this he drew the door back into its place again. seen thus, as part of the whole wall, detection appeared impossible; there was no line to follow, and, though he had closed it but a moment before, he could not trace the junctures. the thing fitted as well as a jaw full of good teeth.
[pg 280]
but he surveyed it only for a moment; then with an effort pushing it back again, he re-entered, closed it behind him, and took up his candle to explore the branch of the passage that led to the right of the picture. again he mounted the ten steps, again came opposite the hinged panel, and passed on. ten similar steps again led down to the ground level of the hall, and at the bottom of these the passage ended in a wooden panel, by the side of which was a latch exactly resembling that by which the picture-panel was shut and opened. he turned it, and the hinged woodwork opened, giving on the short space between the stairs where he had watched last night and the door into the hall round which mr. francis's face had first appeared to him when he awoke from his doze. this, then, explained all; it was here, not from behind the picture, that the old man had entered; from here, seeing a light in the hall, he had peeped round the corner.
geoffrey stepped out into the corridor, and examined the hinged panel from outside; it was in deep shadow, but round it ran bossed circles similar to those in that which held the portrait over the mantelpiece; the second on the right in the same manner raised and lowered the latch.
he blew out the candle, leaving it on the bottom step of the secret way, closed the door, and went to the smoking room. harry was still at work, ill at ease with figures.
"and seven," he observed truculently, as geoffrey entered.
[pg 281]
"twenty," said the other, "and two secret doors—i beg your pardon, three. twenty-six bob, harry. stump up."
harry raised a malevolent face for a moment, and finished his column.
"any skeletons?" he asked, with pungency.
"no; no skeletons. will you come and see it now?"
harry sprang up.
"look here, geoff, are you playing the fool?" he said. "if so, are you prepared to die?"
"neither," said geoffrey, "but don't let me interrupt you. better get on with your work; the passage won't run away."
"nor will the work. i wish it would. do you really mean it, geoff? there is a holy awe about your face."
"come and see," said geoffrey.
they went together to the panel by the staircase, and entered. geoffrey lit the candle he had left there, and preceding harry, who made no comment beyond unintelligible mutterings, stopped opposite the back of old francis's portrait.
"the second secret door," he said, opening it; "the door i discovered first. i'll show you afterward how to get in from the outside. and here," he said, pointing to the recess, "here i found this candle and the matches. convenient."
"that candle," said harry; "why, it is nearly new; it is not dusty, and the matches, too—used they to use matches——" and he stopped suddenly.[pg 282] "give me the candle a minute, geoff," he said.
he looked at the crest and monogram on it, and returned it.
"come on," he said, with something of an effort. "let's see where the passage leads."
"what's the matter?" asked the other.
"nothing; get on."
they went down to the outer door, and looked at it again from the outside. though he had been through it twice that morning, yet, when it was closed, geoffrey could not see where it was, so perfect was the joining of it.
"and the bit of broken brick is the handle to pull it to," said harry, with interest. but he was visibly preoccupied, and his delight was clouded; there was no childish joy in him. geoffrey guessed the reason for it, and at lunch afterward harry spoke.
"that was a candle of uncle francis's, geoff," he said. "it was his monogram," and he looked up as if expecting that his information was surprising. but geoffrey went on eating quite calmly.
"so i supposed," he said.
"then you think he knows of the secret passage?"
"i feel sure he does."
harry's face clouded a little more; it was dark already.
"are you weighing your words?" he asked. "do you mean exactly what you say?"
[pg 283]
"exactly. is not the new candle and the matches proof enough for you?"
"it ought to be. yet i don't know. i suppose you mean that you have further proof."
"i don't suppose anything would convince you if that candle doesn't," said geoffrey, not yet wishing to tell harry of mr. francis's nocturnal visit.
harry pondered this awhile.
"no, i don't suppose it would," he observed at length. "anyhow, geoff, if he didn't tell us he knew of the passage, we won't tell him that we do. you used to call me secretive, i remember. i dare say you were right."
"it seems to run in the family," said the other.
"you mean that uncle francis is secretive, too. well, i think he might have told me of the passage. halloo! there are the horses. just wait; i must go through it again. the candle spoiled all my pleasure this morning, and it is heavenly, simply heavenly. twenty-six bob, you say. dirt cheap, too."
