CHAPTER XXVIII
A MIDNIGHT VISITOR
"Wolf! Wolf!"
Wolfenden, to whom sleep before the early morning hours was a thingabsolutely impossible, was lounging in his easy chair meditating on theevents of the day over a final cigarette. He had come to his room atmidnight in rather a dejected frame of mind; the day's happenings hadscarcely gone in his favour. Helene had looked upon him coldly--almostwith suspicion. In the morning he would be able to explain everything,but in the meantime Blanche was upon the spot, and he had an uneasyfeeling that the girl was his enemy. He had begun to doubt whether thatdrive, so natural a thing, as it really happened, was not carefullyplanned on her part, with a full knowledge of the fact that they wouldmeet Mr. Sabin and his niece. It was all the more irritating becauseduring the last few days he had been gradually growing into the beliefthat so far as his suit with Helene was concerned, the girl herself wasnot altogether indifferent to him. She had refused him definitelyenough, so far as mere words went, but there were lights in her soft,dark eyes, and something indefinable, but apparent in her manner, whichhad forbidden him to abandon all hope. Yet it was hard to believe thatshe was in any way subject to the will of her guardian, Mr. Sabin. Insmall things she took no pains to study him; she was evidently not inthe least under his dominion. On the contrary, there was in his mannertowards her a certain deference, as though it were she whose will wasthe ruling one between them. As a matter of fact, her appearance andwhole bearing seemed to indicate one accustomed to command. Her familyor connections she had never spoken of to him, yet he had not theslightest doubt but that she was of gentle birth. Even if it should turnout that this was not the case, Wolfenden was democratic enough to thinkthat it made no difference. She was good enough to be his wife. Herappearance and manners were almost typically aristocratic--whateverthere might be in her present surroundings or in her past which savouredof mystery, he would at least have staked his soul upon her honesty. Herealised very fully, as he sat there smoking in the early hours of themorning, that this was no passing fancy of his; she was his firstlove--for good or for evil she would be his last. Failure, he said tohimself, was a word which he would not admit in his vocabulary. She wasmoving towards him already, some day she should be his! Through themists of blue tobacco smoke which hovered around him he seemed, witha very slight and very pleasant effort of his imagination, to seesome faint visions of her in that more softening mood, the vaguestrecollection of which set his heart beating fast and sent the bloodmoving through his veins to music. How delicately handsome she was, howexquisite the lines of her girlish, yet graceful and queenly figure.With her clear, creamy skin, soft as alabaster below the red gold of herhair, the somewhat haughty poise of her small, shapely head, she broughthim vivid recollections of that old aristocracy of France, as one readsof them now only in the pages of romance or history. She had the grandair--even the great Queen could not have walked to the scaffold with amore magnificent contempt of the rabble, whose victim she was. Some morepersonal thought came to him; he half closed his eyes and leaned backin his chair steeped in pleasant thoughts; and then it all came to aswift, abrupt end, these reveries and pleasant castle-building. He wasback in the present, suddenly recalled in a most extraordinary manner,to realisation of the hour and place. Surely he could not have beenmistaken! That was a low knocking at his locked door outside; there wasno doubt about it. There it was again! He heard his own name, softly butunmistakably spoken in a trembling voice. He glanced at his watch, itwas between two and three o'clock; then he walked quickly to the doorand opened it without hesitation. It was his father who stood therefully dressed, with pale face and angrily burning eyes. In his hand hecarried a revolver. Wolfenden noticed that the fingers which clasped itwere shaking, as though with cold.
"Father," Wolfenden exclaimed, "what on earth is the matter?"
He dropped his voice in obedience to that sudden gesture for silence.The Admiral answered him in a hoarse whisper.
"A great deal is the matter! I am being deceived and betrayed in my ownhouse! Listen!"
They stood together on the dimly lit landing; holding his breath andlistening intently, Wolfenden was at once aware of faint, distantsounds. They came from the ground floor almost immediately below them.His father laid his hand heavily upon Wolfenden's shoulder.
"Some one is in the library," he said. "I heard the door opendistinctly. When I tried to get out I found that the door of my room waslocked; there is treachery here!"
"How did you get out?" Wolfenden asked.
"Through the bath-room and down the back stairs; that door was lockedtoo, but I found a key that fitted it. Come with me. Be careful! Make nonoise!"
They were on their way downstairs now. As they turned the angle of thebroad oak stairway, Wolfenden caught a glimpse of his father's face, andshuddered; it was very white, and his eyes were bloodshot and wild, hisforefinger was already upon the trigger of his revolver.
"Let me have that," Wolfenden whispered, touching it; "my hand issteadier than yours."
But the Admiral shook his head; he made no answer in words, but thebutt end of the revolver became almost welded into the palm of his hand.Wolfenden began to feel that they were on the threshold of a tragedy.They had reached the ground floor now; straight in front of them wasthe library door. The sound of muffled movements within the room wasdistinctly audible. The Admiral's breath came fast.
"Tread lightly, Wolf," he muttered. "Don't let them hear us! Let uscatch them red-handed!"
But the last dozen yards of the way was over white flags tesselated, andpolished like marble. Wolfenden's shoes creaked; the Admiral's tip-toewalk was no light one. There was a sudden cessation of all sounds; theyhad been heard! The Admiral, with a low cry of rage, leaped forwards.Wolfenden followed close behind.
Even as they crossed the threshold the room was plunged into suddendarkness; they had but a momentary and partial glimpse of the interior.Wolfenden saw a dark, slim figure bending forward with his finger stillpressed to the ball of the lamp. The table was strewn with papers,something--somebody--was fluttering behind the screen yonder. There wasbarely a second of light; then with a sharp click the lamp went out, andthe figure of the man was lost in obscurity. Almost simultaneouslythere came a flash of level fire and the loud report of the Admiral'srevolver. There was no groan, so Wolfenden concluded that the man,whoever he might be, had not been hit. The sound of the report wasfollowed by a few seconds' breathless silence. There was no movementof any sort in the room; only a faint breeze stealing in through thewide-open windows caused a gentle rustling of the papers with which thetable was strewn, and the curtains swayed gently backwards and forwards.The Admiral, with his senses all on the alert, stood motionless, therevolver tense in his hand, his fiercely eager eyes straining to piercethe darkness. By his side, Wolfenden, equally agitated now, though froma different reason, stood holding his breath, his head thrust forward,his eyes striving to penetrate the veil of gloom which lay like a thickbarrier between him and the screen. His fear had suddenly taken toitself a very real and terrible form. There had been a moment, beforethe extinction of the lamp had plunged the room into darkness, whenhe had seen, or fancied that he had seen, a woman's skirts flutteringthere. Up to the present his father's attention had been wholly rivetedupon the other end of the room; yet he was filled with a nervous dreadlest at any moment that revolver might change its direction. His earswere strained to the uttermost to catch the slightest sign of anymovement.
At last the silence was broken; there was a faint movement near thewindow, and then again, without a second's hesitation, there was thatlevel line of fire and loud report from the Admiral's revolver. Therewas no groan, no sign of any one having been hit. The Admiral began tomove slowly in the direction of the window; Wolfenden remained where hewas, listening intently. He was right, there was a smothered movementfrom behind the screen. Some one was moving from there towards the door,some one with light footsteps and a trailing skirt. He drew back intothe doorway; he meant t
o let her pass whoever it might be, but hemeant to know who it was. He could hear her hurried breathing; a faint,familiar perfume, shaken out by the movement of her skirts, puzzledhim; it's very familiarity bewildered him. She knew that he was there;she must know it, for she had paused. The position was terriblycritical. A few yards away the Admiral was groping about, revolver inhand, mumbling to himself a string of terrible threats. The casting of ashadow would call forth that death-dealing fire. Wolfenden thrust outhis hand cautiously; it fell upon a woman's arm. She did not cry out,although her rapid breathing sank almost to a moan. For a moment he wasstaggered--the room seemed to be going round with him; he had to bitehis lips to stifle the exclamation which very nearly escaped him. Thenhe stood away from the door with a little shudder, and guided herthrough it. He heard her footsteps die away along the corridor with apeculiar sense of relief. Then he thrust his hand into the pocket of hisdinner coat and drew out a box of matches.
"I am going to strike a light," he whispered in his father's ear.
"Quick, then," was the reply, "I don't think the fellow has got awayyet; he must be hiding behind some of the furniture."
There was the scratching of a match upon a silver box, a feeble flamegradually developing into a sure illumination. Wolfenden carefully litthe lamp and raised it high over his head. The room was empty! There wasno doubt about it! They two were alone. But the window was wide open anda chair in front of it had been thrown over. The Admiral strode to thecasement and called out angrily--
"Heggs! are you there? Is no one on duty?"
There was no answer; the tall sentry-box was empty.
Wolfenden came over to his father's side and brought the lamp with him,and together they leaned out. At first they could see nothing; thenWolfenden threw off the shade from the lamp and the light fell in abroad track upon a dark, motionless figure stretched out upon the turf.Wolfenden stooped down hastily.
"My God!" he exclaimed, "it is Heggs! Father, won't you sound the gong?We shall have to arouse the house."
There was no need. Already the library was half full of hastily dressedservants, awakened by the sound of the Admiral's revolver. Pale andterrified, but never more self-composed, Lady Deringham stepped out tothem in a long, white dressing-gown.
"What has happened?" she cried. "Who is it, Wolfenden--has your fathershot any one?"
But Wolfenden shook his head, as he stood for a moment upright, andlooked into his mother's face.
"There is a man hurt," he said; "it is Heggs, I think, but he is notshot. The evil is not of our doing!"