CHAPTER XV. THE GREATER SECRET.
It was late that night that a startled knocking came at the door ofElmdene. Laura had been in her room all day, and Robert was moodilysmoking his pipe by the fire, when this harsh and sudden summonsbroke in upon his thoughts. There in the porch was Jones, the stouthead-butler of the Hall, hatless, scared, with the raindrops shining inthe lamplight upon his smooth, bald head.
"If you please, Mr. McIntyre, sir, would it trouble you to step up tothe Hall?" he cried. "We are all frightened, sir, about master."
Robert caught up his hat and started at a run, the frightened butlertrotting heavily beside him. It had been a day of excitement anddisaster. The young artist's heart was heavy within him, and the shadowof some crowning trouble seemed to have fallen upon his soul.
"What is the matter with your master, then?" he asked, as he slowed downinto a walk.
"We don't know, sir; but we can't get an answer when we knock at thelaboratory door. Yet he's there, for it's locked on the inside. It hasgiven us all a scare, sir, that, and his goin's-on during the day."
"His goings-on?"
"Yes, sir; for he came back this morning like a man demented, a-talkin'to himself, and with his eyes starin' so that it was dreadful to look atthe poor dear gentleman. Then he walked about the passages a long time,and he wouldn't so much as look at his luncheon, but he went into themuseum, and gathered all his jewels and things, and carried them intothe laboratory. We don't know what he's done since then, sir, but hisfurnace has been a-roarin', and his big chimney spoutin' smoke like aBirmingham factory. When night came we could see his figure against thelight, a-workin' and a-heavin' like a man possessed. No dinner would hehave, but work, and work, and work. Now it's all quiet, and the furnacecold, and no smoke from above, but we can't get no answer from him, sir,so we are scared, and Miller has gone for the police, and I came awayfor you."
They reached the Hall as the butler finished his explanation, andthere outside the laboratory door stood the little knot of footmen andostlers, while the village policeman, who had just arrived, was holdinghis bull's-eye to the keyhole, and endeavouring to peep through.
"The key is half-turned," he said. "I can't see nothing except just thelight."
"Here's Mr. McIntyre," cried half-a-dozen voices, as Robert cameforward.
"We'll have to beat the door in, sir," said the policeman. "We can't getany sort of answer, and there's something wrong."
Twice and thrice they threw their united weights against it until atlast with a sharp snap the lock broke, and they crowded into the narrowpassage. The inner door was ajar, and the laboratory lay before them.
In the centre was an enormous heap of fluffy grey ash, reaching uphalf-way to the ceiling. Beside it was another heap, much smaller, ofsome brilliant scintillating dust, which shimmered brightly in the raysof the electric light. All round was a bewildering chaos of broken jars,shattered bottles, cracked machinery, and tangled wires, all bent anddraggled. And there in the midst of this universal ruin, leaning back inhis chair with his hands clasped upon his lap, and the easy pose of onewho rests after hard work safely carried through, sat Raffles Haw, themaster of the house, and the richest of mankind, with the pallor ofdeath upon his face. So easily he sat and so naturally, with such aserene expression upon his features, that it was not until they raisedhim, and touched his cold and rigid limbs, that they could realise thathe had indeed passed away.
Reverently and slowly they bore him to his room, for he was beloved byall who had served him. Robert alone lingered with the policeman in thelaboratory. Like a man in a dream he wandered about, marvelling at theuniversal destruction. A large broad-headed hammer lay upon theground, and with this Haw had apparently set himself to destroy allhis apparatus, having first used his electrical machines to reduceto protyle all the stock of gold which he had accumulated. Thetreasure-room which had so dazzled Robert consisted now of merely fourbare walls, while the gleaming dust upon the floor proclaimed the fateof that magnificent collection of gems which had alone amounted to aroyal fortune. Of all the machinery no single piece remained intact,and even the glass table was shattered into three pieces. Strenuouslyearnest must have been the work which Raffles Haw had done that day.
And suddenly Robert thought of the secret which had been treasured inthe casket within the iron-clamped box. It was to tell him the one lastessential link which would make his knowledge of the process complete.Was it still there? Thrilling all over, he opened the great chest, anddrew out the ivory box. It was locked, but the key was in it. He turnedit and threw open the lid. There was a white slip of paper with his ownname written upon it. With trembling fingers he unfolded it. Was hethe heir to the riches of El Dorado, or was he destined to be a poorstruggling artist? The note was dated that very evening, and ran in thisway:
"MY DEAR ROBERT,--My secret shall never be used again. I cannot tell you how I thank Heaven that I did not entirely confide it to you, for I should have been handing over an inheritance of misery both to yourself and others. For myself I have hardly had a happy moment since I discovered it. This I could have borne had I been able to feel that I was doing good, but, alas! the only effect of my attempts has been to turn workers into idlers, contented men into greedy parasites, and, worst of all, true, pure women into deceivers and hypocrites. If this is the effect of my interference on a small scale, I cannot hope for anything better were I to carry out the plans which we have so often discussed. The schemes of my life have all turned to nothing. For myself, you shall never see me again. I shall go back to the student life from which I emerged. There, at least, if I can do little good, I can do no harm. It is my wish that such valuables as remain in the Hall should be sold, and the proceeds divided amidst all the charities of Birmingham. I shall leave tonight if I am well enough, but I have been much troubled all day by a stabbing pain in my side. It is as if wealth were as bad for health as it is for peace of mind. Good-bye, Robert, and may you never have as sad a heart as I have to-night. Yours very truly, RAFFLES HAW."
"Was it suicide, sir? Was it suicide?" broke in the policeman as Robertput the note in his pocket.
"No," he answered; "I think it was a broken heart."
And so the wonders of the New Hall were all dismantled, the carvings andthe gold, the books and the pictures, and many a struggling man or womanwho had heard nothing of Raffles Haw during his life had cause to blesshim after his death. The house has been bought by a company now, whohave turned it into a hydropathic establishment, and of all the folk whofrequent it in search of health or of pleasure there are few who knowthe strange story which is connected with it.
The blight which Haw's wealth cast around it seemed to last even afterhis death. Old McIntyre still raves in the County Lunatic Asylum, andtreasures up old scraps of wood and metal under the impression that theyare all ingots of gold. Robert McIntyre is a moody and irritable man,for ever pursuing a quest which will always evade him. His art isforgotten, and he spends his whole small income upon chemical andelectrical appliances, with which he vainly seeks to rediscover thatone hidden link. His sister keeps house for him, a silent and broodingwoman, still queenly and beautiful, but of a bitter, dissatisfied mind.Of late, however, she has devoted herself to charity, and has been of somuch help to Mr. Spurling's new curate that it is thought that he maybe tempted to secure her assistance for ever. So runs the gossip of thevillage, and in small places such gossip is seldom wrong. As to HectorSpurling, he is still in her Majesty's service, and seems inclined toabide by his father's wise advice, that he should not think of marryinguntil he was a Commander. It is possible that of all who were broughtwithin the spell of Raffles Haw he was the only one who had occasion tobless it.
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