CHAPTER XV
FOLLOWS FLOCKART'S FORTUNES
One evening, a few days later, Gabrielle, seated beside her father athis big writing-table, had concluded reading some reports, and hadreceived those brief, laconic replies which the blind man was in thehabit of giving, when she suddenly asked, "I believe, dad, that you havea quantity of the Glencardine papers, haven't you? If I remember aright,when you bought the castle you made possession of these papers astipulation."
"Yes, dear, I did," was his answer. "I thought it a shame that thepapers of such a historic family should be dispersed at Sotheby's, asthey no doubt would have been. So I purchased them."
"You've never let me see them," she said. "As you know, you've taught meso much antiquarian knowledge that I'm becoming an enthusiast likeyourself."
"You can see them, dear, of course," was his reply. "They are in thatbig ebony cabinet at the end of the room yonder--about two hundredcharters, letters, and documents, dating from 1314 down to 1695."
"I'll go through them to-morrow," she said. "I suppose they throw a gooddeal of light upon the history of the Grahams and the actions of thegreat Lord Glencardine?"
"Yes; but I fear you'll find them very difficult to read," he remarked."Not being able to see them for myself, alas! I had to send them toLondon to be deciphered."
"And you still have the translations?"
"Unfortunately, no, dear. Professor Petre at Oxford, who is preparinghis great work on Glencardine, begged me to let him see them, and hestill has them."
"Well," she laughed, "I must therefore content myself with theoriginals, eh? Do they throw any further light upon the secret agreementin 1644 between the great Marquess of Glencardine, whose home was here,and King Charles?"
"Really, Gabrielle," laughed the old antiquary, "for a girl, yourrecollection of abstruse historical points is wonderful."
"Not at all. There was a mystery, I remember, and mysteries alwaysattract me."
"Well," he replied after a few moments' hesitation, "I fear you will notfind the solution of that point, or of any other really important point,contained in any of the papers. The most interesting records theycontain are some relating to Alexander Senescallus (Stewart), the fourthson of Robert II., who was granted in 1379 a Castle of Garth. He was areprobate, and known as the Wolf of Badenoch. On his father's accessionin 1371, he was granted the charters of Badenoch, with the Castle ofLochindorb and of Strathavon; and at a slightly later date he wasgranted the lands of Tempar, Lassintulach, Tulachcroske, and Gort(Garth). As you know, many traditions regarding him still survive; butone fact contained in yonder papers is always interesting, for it showsthat he was confined in the dungeon of the old keep of Glencardine untilRobert III. released him. There are also a quantity of interesting factsregarding 'Red Neil,' or Neil Stewart of Fothergill, who was Laird ofGarth, which will some day be of value to future historians ofScotland."
"Is there anything concerning the mysterious fate of Cardinal Setounwithin Glencardine?" asked the girl, unable to curb her curiosity.
"No," he replied in a manner which was almost snappish. "That's a meretradition, my dear--simply a tale invented by the country-folk. It seemsto have been imagined in order to associate it with the mysteriousWhispers which some superstitious people claim to have heard. No oldcastle is complete nowadays without its ghost, so we have for our sharethe Lady of Glencardine and the Whispers," he laughed.
"But I thought it was a matter of authenticated history that theCardinal was actually enticed here, and disappeared!" exclaimed thegirl. "I should have thought that the Glencardine papers would havereferred to it," she added, recollecting what Walter had told her.
"Well, they don't; so why worry your head, dear, over a mere fable? Ihave already gone very carefully into all the facts that are proved, andhave come to the conclusion that the story of the torture of hisEminence is a fairy-tale, and that the supernatural Whispers have onlybeen heard in imagination."
She was silent. She recollected that sound of murmuring voices. It wascertainly not imagination.
"But you'll let me have the key of the cabinet, won't you, dad?" sheasked, glancing across to where stood a beautiful old Florentine cabinetof ebony inlaid with ivory, and reaching almost to the ceiling.
"Certainly, Gabrielle dear," was the reply of the expressionless man."It is upstairs in my room. You shall have it to-morrow."
And then he lapsed again into silence, reflecting whether it were notbest to secure certain parchment records from those drawers before hisdaughter investigated them. There was a small roll of yellow parchment,tied with modern tape, which he was half-inclined to conceal from hercurious gaze. Truth to tell, they constituted a record of the tortureand death of Cardinal Setoun much in the same manner as Walter Murie haddescribed to her. If she read that strange chronicle she might, hefeared, be impelled to watch and endeavour to hear the fatal Whispers.
Strange though it was, yet those sounds were a subject which caused himdaily apprehension. Though he never referred to them save to ridiculeevery suggestion of their existence, or to attribute the weird noises tothe wind, yet never a day passed but he sat calmly reflecting. That onematter which his daughter knew above all others caused him the mostserious thought and apprehension--a fear which had become doublyincreased since she had referred to the curious and apparentlyinexplicable phenomenon. He, a refined, educated man of brilliantattainments, scouted the idea of any supernatural agency. To those whohad made mention of the Whispers--among them his friend Murie, the Lairdof Connachan; Lord Strathavon, from whom he had purchased the estate;and several of the neighbouring landowners--he had always expressed ahope that one day he might be fortunate enough to hear the whisperedcounsel of the Evil One, and so decide for himself its true cause. Hepretended always to treat the affair with humorous incredulity, yet atheart he was sorely troubled.
If his young wife's remarkable friendship with the man Flockart oftencaused him bitter thoughts, then the mysterious Whispers and thefatality so strangely connected with them were equally a source ofconstant inquietude.
A few days later Flockart, with clever cunning, seemed to alter hisingenious tactics completely, for suddenly he had commenced to bestirhimself in Sir Henry's interests. One morning after breakfast, takingthe Baronet by the arm, he led him for a stroll along the drive, down tothe lodge-gates, and back, for the purpose, as he explained, of speakingwith him in confidence.
At first the blind man was full of curiosity as to the reason of thisunusual action, as those deprived of sight usually are.
"I know, Sir Henry," Flockart said presently, and not withouthesitation, "that certain ill-disposed people have endeavoured to placean entirely wrong construction upon your wife's friendship towards me.For that reason I have decided to leave Glencardine, both for her sakeand for yours."
"But, my dear fellow," exclaimed the blind man, "why do you suggest sucha thing?"
"Because your wife's enemies have their mouths full of scandalous lies,"he replied. "I tell you frankly, Sir Henry, that my friendship with herladyship is a purely platonic one. We were children together, at home inBedford, and ever since our schooldays I have remained her friend."
"I know that," remarked the old man quietly. "My wife told me that whenyou dined with us on several occasions at Park Street. I have neverobjected to the friendship existing between you, Flockart; for, though Ihave never seen you, I have always believed you to be a man of honour."
"I feel very much gratified at those words, Sir Henry," he said in adeep, earnest voice, glancing at the grey, dark-spectacled face of thefragile man whose arm he was holding. "Indeed, I've always hoped thatyou would repose sufficient confidence in me to know that I am not sucha blackguard as to take any advantage of your cruel affliction."
The blind Baronet sighed. "Ah, my dear Flockart! all men are nothonourable like yourself. There are many ready to take advantage of mylack of eyesight. I have experienced it, alas! in business as well as inmy private life."
The dar
k-faced man was silent. He was playing an ingenious, ifdangerous, game. The Baronet had referred to business--his mysteriousbusiness, the secret of which he was now trying his best to solve."Yes," he said at length, "I suppose the standard of honesty in businessis nowadays just about as low as it can possibly be, eh? Well, I'venever been in business myself, so I don't know. In the one or two smallfinancial deals in which I've had a share, I've usually been 'frozenout' in the end."
"Ah, Flockart," sighed the Laird of Glencardine, "you are unfortunatelyquite correct. The so-called smart business man is the one who robs hisneighbour without committing the sin of being found out."
This remark caused the other a twinge of conscience. Did he intend toconvey any hidden meaning? He was full of cunning and cleverness."Well," Flockart exclaimed, "I'm truly gratified to think that I retainyour confidence, Sir Henry. If I have in the past been able to be of anylittle service to Lady Heyburn, I assure you I am only too delighted.Yet I think that in the face of gossip which some of your neighbourshere are trying to spread--gossip started, I very much fear, by MissGabrielle--my absence from Glencardine will be of distinct advantage toall concerned. I do not, my dear Sir Henry, desire for one single momentto embarrass you, or to place her ladyship in any false position. I----"
"But, my dear fellow, you've become quite an institution with us!"exclaimed Sir Henry in dismay. "We should all be lost without you. Why,as you know, you've done me so many kindnesses that I can neversufficiently repay you. I don't forget how, through your advice, I'vebeen able to effect quite a number of economies at Caistor, and howoften you assist my wife in various ways in her social duties."
"My dear Sir Henry," he laughed, "you know I'm always ready to serveeither of you whenever it lies in my power. Only--well, I feel that I'min your wife's company far too much, both here and in Lincolnshire.People are talking. Therefore, I have decided to leave her, and mydecision is irrevocable."
"Let them talk. If I do not object, you surely need not."
"But for your wife's sake?"
"I know--I know how cruel are people's tongues, Flockart," remarked theold man.
"Yes; and the gossip was unfortunately started by Gabrielle. It wassurely very unwise of her."
"Ah!" sighed the other, "it is the old story. Every girl becomes jealousof her step-mother. And she's only a child, after all," he addedapologetically.
"Well, much as I esteem her, and much as I admire her, I feel, SirHenry, that she had no right to bring discord into your house. I hopeyou will permit me to say this, with all due deference to the fact thatshe's your daughter. But I consider her conduct in this matter has beenvery unfriendly."
Again the Baronet was silent, and his companion saw that he wasreflecting deeply. "How do you know that the scandal was started byher?" he asked presently, in a low, rather strained voice.
"Young Paterson told me so. It appears that when she was staying withthem over at Tullyallan she told his mother all sorts of absurd stories.And Mrs. Paterson who, as you know, is a terrible gossip--told the Readsof Logie and the Redcastles, and in a few days these fictions, with allsorts of embroidery, were spread half over Scotland. Why, my friendLindsay, the member for Berwick, heard some whispers the other day inthe Carlton Club! So, in consequence of that, Sir Henry, I'm resolved,much against my will and inclination, I assure you, to end my friendshipwith your wife."
"All this pains me more than I can tell you," declared the old man. "Themore so, too, that Gabrielle should have allowed her jealousy to leadher to make such false charges."
"Yes. In order not to pain you. I have hesitated to tell you this forseveral weeks. But I really thought that you ought at least to know thetruth, and who originated the scandal. And so I have ventured to-day tospeak openly, and to announce my departure," said the wily Flockart. Hewas putting to the test the strength of his position in that household.He had an ulterior motive, one that was ingenious and subtle.
"But you are not really going?" exclaimed the other. "You told me theother day something about my factor Macdonald, and your suspicions ofcertain irregularities."
"My dear Sir Henry, it will be far better for us both if I leave. Toremain will only be to lend further colour to these scandalous rumours.I have decided to leave your house."
"You believe that Macdonald is dishonest, eh?" inquired the afflictedman quickly.
"Yes, I'm certain of it. Remember, Sir Henry, that when one is dealingwith a man who is blind, it is sometimes a great temptation to bedishonest."
"I know, I know," sighed the other deeply. They were at a bend in thedrive where the big trees met overhead, forming a leafy tunnel. Theascent was a trifle steep, and the Baronet had paused for a few seconds,leaning heavily upon the arm of his friend.
"Oh, pardon me!" exclaimed Flockart suddenly, releasing his arm. "Yourwatch-chain is hanging down. Let me put it right for you." And for a fewseconds he fumbled at the chain, at the same time holding something inthe palm of his left hand. "There, that's right," he said a few minuteslater. "You caught it somewhere, I expect."
"On one of the knobs of my writing-table perhaps," said the other."Thanks. I sometimes inadvertently pull it out of my pocket."
A faint smile of triumph passed across the dark, handsome face of theman, who again took his arm, as at the same time he replaced somethingin his own jacket-pocket. He had in that instant secured what he wanted.
"You were saying with much truth, my dear Flockart, that in dealing witha man who cannot see there is occasionally a temptation towardsdishonesty. Well, this very day I intend to have a long chat with mywife, but before I do so will you promise me one thing?"
"And what is that?" asked the man, not without some apprehension.
"That you will remain here, disregard the gossip that you may haveheard, and continue to assist me in my helplessness in making full andsearching inquiry into Macdonald's alleged defalcations."
The man reflected for a few seconds, with knit brows. His quick witswere instantly at work, for he saw with the utmost satisfaction that hehad been entirely successful in disarming all suspicion; therefore hisnext move must be the defeat of that man's devoted defender, Gabrielle,the one person who stood between his own penniless self and fortune.
"I really cannot at this moment make any promise, Sir Henry," heremarked at last. "I have decided to go."
"But defer your decision for the present. There is surely no immediatehurry for your departure! First let me consult my wife," urged theBaronet, putting out his hand and groping for that of Flockart, which hepressed warmly as proof of his continued esteem. "Let me talk toWinifred. She shall decide whether you go or whether you shall stay."