CHAPTER XXVI
LIGHT IN DARK PLACES
"No, I can tell you nothing further," said "Doctor Orlando Meadows," inreply to Laurence's eager requests for information; "but even whatlittle I have told you throws light upon much that was formerly dark toyou. For instance, now you know the solution of the mystery of thepadded footprints. The Thug, like many native Indians of his class--alow one--swathes his feet in strips of linen stuff. So you see he didnot have to perform the distinctly difficult operation of removing hisboots while on the machine!
"Next, you can now understand the meaning of the marvellous agility ofthe creature. I wonder you did not put two and two together before andguess that the wonderfully athletic foe who almost broke your father'sneck in some mysterious manner was--a Thug. Those fanatics are thefinest gymnasts in the world, besides being the most bloodthirstycreatures under heaven.
"One thing I cannot understand is why so desperate a scoundrel shouldpause in the middle of his deadly work, and leave your poor fatherliving, though unconscious. It is deemed the greatest possible disgracefor a Thug to attack his victim with the 'noose' and fail to kill him.Of course, as a rule, the Stranglers--as they are called--work together,but against one old man a single Thug should be able to carry out hisgrim work thoroughly. I speak as one who knows something about India.You are convinced that nothing unusual was found in the room in whichyour father was attacked?"
"Nothing, as far as I am aware," replied Laurence. "Of course, I leftthe detective to look for any clue in the bedroom, but whether he foundanything I do not know. Had he done so I think on his departure he wouldhave handed it over to me."
"And he didn't?"
"No--that is, he merely played a practical joke on me by leaving acardboard box in a cupboard in which he said I should find a clue. Onopening it I was disgusted to find nothing but a dead bat----"
"A dead bat!" shrieked "Doctor Meadows"; "had he found it in theSquire's bedroom?"
"As to that I cannot tell you. But why?"
"Because," replied the old gentleman, "if he did I know why the assassindid not murder your father outright!"
"Good gracious, what has that got to do with it?"
"Everything. The Thugs are the most superstitious people on earth. Whenthey believe their patron goddess Kalee does not approve of theirsacrifice--they call all murders sacrifices to her--they stop short intheir deadly operations. In India if they are carrying out one of theirgruesome murders, and a girl with a pitcher happens to pass near, theystop instantly. It is a sign that the goddess is displeased with theirselection of a victim. That was why I asked you if it was possible thata housemaid with a pail passed the half-open bedroom door when theattack was made. Again, should a murdering Thug see his victim's facereflected in water or a mirror, he will, for the same reason, stop inthe very middle of his work. But one of the worst omens--a sign thatKalee is greatly displeased--is the passing of a small chattering bird,or a bat, while the murder is being carried out. The bat which by chancehad got into your father's room must have fluttered about when theassassin was carrying out his foul deed. That bat saved your father'slife!"
"But how did the Thug get into the room, and how did he escape?"
"That question, I think, you have yourself solved. I do not know howyou came to reach that door"--pointing in the direction of the stonepassage--"but presumably you came from your own house. I told you Ibelieved there must be some secret hiding-place. Well, if you camethrough this passage, I suppose the Thug could do likewise. Only insteadof coming in this direction he went in the other, and got into yourhouse the same way you have got into this. The passage, I have heard,was built in the troublous time of the Civil War, when Charles I. andOliver Cromwell struggled for the mastery. No doubt it was arranged forthe inhabitants of one house to escape into the other when besieged orattacked."
"But," said Laurence, "I entered that secret passage from the barn. Ifthe Thug got out that way--he has evidently been hiding in the secretloft over the barn--how did he get into the Manse when he tried tomurder my father?"
"I do not know; but do you mean to tell me that the passage leads onlyto the barn? I cannot believe it."
"Then don't, but--stay! There was another passage leading from a roomunder the barn which as yet I have not explored. In this the Thug wasprobably hiding when I passed the entrance, and, attracted by the lightI struck, followed and sprang upon me from behind. That passage may,for all I know, end in the Manse itself."
"Rest assured that such is the case," replied Meadows; and he added, "Ishould not be surprised if you were to find that that other passage ledinto the Squire's bedroom!"
Laurence gasped. If so, the affair was well-nigh solved. The thought ofthe mystery reminded the young man that here he was conversing amicablywith the "doctor" in the very basement which he believed to contain theold gentleman's secret.
"Now," said Laurence, laying his hand on Meadows' arm, "tell me yoursecret and there will no longer be any mystery."
"No, no," cried the old man; "go away. You take advantage of mykindness. I have cleared up the mystery of your father's enemy as far asI am permitted to do so, and you treat me so. But," he said slowly, "ina day or two I may be able to tell you all. Then I will renew myacquaintance with your father, Major Harold Lester Carrington, late ofMadras. Until then I can do nothing."
So saying, and in spite of his protests, Laurence was conducted by the"doctor" to the front door of the old house. As the door closed uponhim, after he had bidden Meadows a more or less cordial farewell, hefancied he heard another cry from the lower part of the house ofstrange secrets. This time he thought the weird sound seemed lessawe-inspiring, more pathetic, than before. And it was so low that thelistener could not be sure whether his imagination had played a trickupon him, or if what he fancied he had heard was reality.
With his head throbbing with the sickly pains caused by his injury, heturned and hurried away to the Manse.
Lena met him in the hall. She was deadly pale. At the sight of her lovershe sprang forward, and, unconscious of the fact that Mrs. Knox waspeering inquisitively over the banisters, flung her arms round his neck.
"Oh, thank God," she cried almost hysterically, "that you are safe! Ithought you were killed. I had a presentiment that 'it' had attacked andmurdered you in the dark loft. Where have you been; why were you away solong?"
And then, suddenly realising how forward she had been, she darted backas quickly as she had come. It was not because her aunt made herpresence known by clearing her throat with unnecessary vehemence, butbecause she remembered that she had not yet confessed her love forLaurence, and because it seemed to her that her anxiety for his safetyhad triumphed over her natural modesty.
Then, without another word, without waiting to hear what Laurence had totell her, she hastened away to her own room, and, locking the door,flung herself upon her bed, where she calmed herself in the orthodoxfeminine manner--she had a good cry, but the tears were tears of joy!
She already knew that he loved her--now he knew that she loved him. Andhe was safe!
Meanwhile Laurence, wondering at Lena's--to him--strange behaviour,proceeded to his father's bedroom, where he dismissed the housekeeperand sat down by the Squire's bedside.
"Father," he said, after he had inquired how the sick man felt, "I havelearned all."
Mr. Carrington lay motionless. He could not reply. The announcement hadovercome him. His face grew very pale.
"What do you mean?" he muttered, raising himself, at length, upon hiselbow, and peering into his son's face.
"I mean that I know who and WHAT your enemy is--your enemy who is tryingto avenge that which happened over twenty years ago!"
"Who has told you?" asked the Squire excitedly--"not--not 'it'?"
"No, someone who says he died years ago!"
"What do you mean?"
"I hardly know myself. Next door--I mean at the Dene--lives an old manwho says he knew you more than twenty years ago."
"Don't b
elieve it, Laurence. But-t-t how does he know my secret? You aresure that he--he is not the--the----"
"No, he is not the Thug."
At the mention of the last word the Squire fell back upon his pillowswith a shudder.
"And you've not caught him?"
"No, but I know where he is hiding, and," he added, "if you won't tellme what I don't know, he will!"
"I cannot tell you. Yet, if I don't he will. Here, go to the desk in mysanctum, press the knob of the dummy drawer on the right-hand side, andbring me down the book that will fall out of the slit underneath."
With rising hopes the young man did as he was told. He returned to thesick-room shortly after, carrying a small red pocket-book, fastened witha piece of parchment sealed on the back and front of the Volume.
"Take it," said the Squire, "and read it, only not here. I cannot bearto think of it all. Go, now; you mean well, my boy, but you don't knowthe pain it causes me to hear you speak of my secret. When you know allyou will see that your poor old dad is not such a sinner as you think heis." And the Squire lay back on the pillows again, and closed his eyes,and, making a suitable reply, Laurence left the room.
He met a very shamefaced Lena in the drawing-room, and told her of allhis afternoon adventures, not forgetting to offer a very sincere apologyfor leaving her in the barn. Then he produced from his pocket the littlered note-book and pointed to the notice endorsed on it: "For my son,Laurence. Not to be opened until after my death." Then, assuring herthat he had permission to read it, he broke the seals and opened thebook, which was full of thin, straggling writing.
"Shall I read it aloud?" asked Laurence temptingly.
"Oh, please do."
"Sure you wouldn't like to read it aloud yourself?"
"Oh, no. I'm a terribly bad reader."
"Well, so am I."
"I'm sure you're better than I am," responded Lena.
"I'll tell you how we can settle it."
"How?"
"By each reading it separately."
"But I want to hear the story now. And don't you, too?"
"Yes, we both can. That is--if you don't mind sitting on this sofa andlooking over at the same time?"
Lena rose with a blush on her cheeks, that, in Laurence's opinion, madeher look prettier than ever.
Then she settled herself by his side. He turned to the front page, andsatisfied himself that his companion could see the writing and read it,then they commenced the perusal of the contents of the little rednote-book.