CHAPTER XXII. THE TAPESTRY CHAMBER.
When Beck woke the next morning, and gradually recalled all that hadso startled and appalled him the previous night, the grateful creaturefelt, less by the process of reason than by a brute instinct, that inthe mysterious resuscitation and nocturnal wanderings of the pretendedparalytic, some danger menaced his master; he became anxious to learnwhether it was really St. John's room Madame Dalibard stealthilyvisited. A bright idea struck him; and in the course of the day, atan hour when the family were out of doors, he contrived to coax thegood-natured valet, who had taken him under his special protection, toshow him over the house. He had heard the other servants say there wassuch a power of fine things that a peep into the rooms was as good asa show, and the valet felt pride in being cicerone even to Beck. Afterhaving stared sufficiently at the banquet-hall and the drawing-room, thearmour, the busts, and the pictures, and listened, open-mouthed, to hisguide's critical observations, Beck was led up the great stairs intothe old family picture-gallery, and into Sir Miles's ancient room at theend, which had been left undisturbed, with the bed still in theangle; on returning thence, Beck found himself in the corridor whichcommunicated with the principal bedrooms, in which he had lost himselfthe night before.
"And vot room be that vith the littul vite 'ead h-over the door?" askedBeck, pointing to the chamber from which Madame Dalibard had emerged.
"That white head, Master Beck, is Floorer the goddess; but a heathenlike you knows nothing about goddesses. Floorer has a half-moon in herhair, you see, which shows that the idolatrous Turks worship her; forthe Turkish flag is a half-moon, as I have seen at Constantinople. Ihave travelled, Beck."
"And vot room be it? Is it the master's?" persisted Beck.
"No, the pretty young lady, Miss Mainwaring, has it at present. There isnothing to see in it. But that one opposite," and the valet advancedto the door through which Madame Dalibard had disappeared,--"that iscurious; and as Madame is out, we may just take a peep." He openedthe door gently, and Beck looked in. "This, which is called theturret-chamber, was Madame's when she was a girl, I have heard old Bessysay; so Master pops her there now. For my part, I'd rather sleep in yourlittle crib than have those great gruff-looking figures staring at meby the firelight, and shaking their heads with every wind on a winter'snight." And the valet took a pinch of snuff as he drew Beck's attentionto the faded tapestry on the walls. As they spoke, the draught betweenthe door and the window caused the gloomy arras to wave with a life-likemotion; and to those more superstitious than romantic, the chamber hadcertainly no inviting aspect.
"I never sees these old tapestry rooms," said the valet, "withoutthinking of the story of the lady who, coming from a ball and taking offher jewels, happened to look up, and saw an eye in one of the figureswhich she felt sure was no peeper in worsted."
"Vot vos it, then?" asked Beck, timidly lifting up the hangings, andnoticing that there was a considerable space between them and the wall,which was filled up in part by closets and wardrobes set into the walls,with intervals more than deep enough for the hiding-place of a man.
"Why," answered the valet, "it was a thief. He had come for the jewels;but the lady had the presence of mind to say aloud, as if to herself,that she had forgotten something, slipped out of the room, locked thedoor, called up the servants, and the thief--who was no less a personthan the under-butler--was nabbed."
"And the French 'oman sleeps 'ere?" said Beck, musingly.
"French 'oman! Master Beck, nothing's so vulgar as these nicknames ina first-rate situation. It is all very well when one lives withskinflints, but with such a master as our'n, respect's the go. Besides,Madame is not a French 'oman; she is one of the family,--and as old afamily it is, too, as e'er a lord's in the three kingdoms. But come,your curiosity is satisfied now, and you must trot back to your horses."
As Beck returned to the stables, his mind yet more misgave him as to thecriminal designs of his master's visitor. It was from Helen's room thatthe false cripple had walked, and the ill health of the poor young ladywas a general subject of compassionate comment. But Madame Dalibard wasHelen's relation: from what motive could she harbour an evil thoughtagainst her own niece? But still, if those drops were poured into thehealing draught for good, why so secretly? Once more he revolved theidea of speaking to St. John: an accident dissuaded him from thisintention,--the only proof to back his tale was the mysterious phial hehad carried away; but unluckily, forgetting that it was in his pocket,at a time when he flung off his coat to groom one of the horses, thebottle struck against the corn-bin and broke; all the contents werespilt. This incident made him suspend his intention, and wait till hecould obtain some fresh evidence of evil intentions. The day passedwithout any other noticeable occurrence. The doctor called, found Helensomewhat better, and ascribed it to his medicines, especially to theeffect of his tonic draught the first thing in the morning. Helensmiled. "Nay, Doctor," said she, "this morning, at least, it wasforgotten. I did not find it by my bedside. Don't tell my aunt; shewould be so angry." The doctor looked rather discomposed.
"Well," said he, soon recovering his good humour, "since you arecertainly better to-day without the draught, discontinue it alsoto-morrow. I will make an alteration for the day after." So thatnight Madame Dalibard visited in vain her niece's chamber: Helen had areprieve.