CHAPTER III
THE CRY IN THE NIGHT
The close clutch of the silence lay over the castle like the restlesshorror that it was. The caressing drowsiness of healthy slumber wasnever for the hapless Ravenspurs now. They clung round the ingle nooktill the last moment; they parted with a sigh and a shudder, knowingthat the morrow might find one face missing, one voice silenced forever.
Marion alone was really cheerful; her smiling face, her gentle couragewere as the cool breath of the north wind to the others. But for her,they would have gone mad with the haunting horror long since.
She was one of the last to go. She still sat pensive in the ingle, herhands clasped behind her head, her eyes gazing with fascinatedastonishment at Ralph Ravenspur.
In some strange, half-defined fashion it seemed to her that she had seena face scarred and barred like that before. And in the same vague waythe face reminded her of her native India.
It was a strong face, despite the blight that suffering had laid uponit. The lips were firm and straight, the sightless eyes seemed to beseeking for something, hunting as a blind wolf might have done. Thelong, slim, damp fingers twitched convulsively; feeling upwards andaround as if in search of something.
Marion shuddered as she imagined those hooks of steel pressed about herthroat, choking the life out of her.
"Where are you going to sleep?" Ravenspur asked abruptly.
"In my old room," Ralph replied. "Nobody need trouble about me. I canfind my way about the castle as well as if I had my eyes. After all Ihave endured, a blanket on the floor will be a couch of down."
"You are not afraid of the family terror?"
Ralph laughed. He laughed hard down in his throat, chuckling horribly.
"I am afraid of nothing," he said; "if you only knew what I know youwould not wish to live. I tell you I would sit and see my right armburnt off with slow fire if I could wipe out the things I have seen inthe last five years! I heard of the family fetish at Bombay, and thatwas why I came home. I prefer a slumbering hell to a roaring one."
He spoke as if half to himself. His words were enigmas to the interestedlisteners; yet, wild as they seemed, they were cool and collected.
"Some day you shall tell us your adventures," Ravenspur said notunkindly, "how you lost your sight, and whence came those strangedisfigurements."
"That you will never know," Ralph replied. "Ah, there are more things inheaven and earth than are dreamt of in our narrow and speciousphilosophy. There are some things it is impossible to speak of, and mytrouble is one of them. Only to one man could I mention it, and whetherhe is alive or dead I do not know."
Marion rose. The strangely uttered words made her feel slightlyhysterical. She bent over Ravenspur and kissed him fondly. Moved by astrong impulse of pity, she would have done the same by her uncle Ralph,but that he seemed to divine her presence and her intention. The long,slim hands went up.
"You must not kiss me, my child," he said. "I am not fit to be touchedby pure lips like yours. Good-night."
Marion turned away, chilled and disappointed. She wondered why Ralphspoke like that, why he shuddered at her approach as if she had been anunclean thing. But in that house of singular happenings one strangematter more or less was nothing.
"The light of my eyes," Ravenspur murmured. "After Vera, the creature Ilove best on earth. What should we do without her?"
"What, indeed?" Ralph said quietly. "I cannot see, but I can feel whatshe is to all of you. Good-night, father, and thank you."
Ravenspur strode off with a not unkindly nod. As a matter of fact, hewas more moved by the return of the wanderer and his evident sufferingsand misfortunes than he cared to confess. He brooded over these strangethings till at length he lapsed into troubled and uneasy slumber.
The intense gripping silence deepened. Ralph Ravenspur still sat in theingle with his face bent upon the glowing logs as if he could see, andas if he was seeking for some inspiration in the sparkling crocus flame.
Then without making the slightest noise, he crept across the hall,feeling his way along with his finger-tips to the landing above.
He had made no idle boast. He knew every inch of the castle. Like a cathe crept to his own room, and there, merely discarding his coat andboots, he took a blanket from the bed.
Into the corridor he stepped and then, lying down under the hangings ofCordova leather, wrapped himself up cocoon fashion in his blanket anddropped into a sound sleep. The mournful silence brooded, the ratsscratched behind the oaken paneled walls.
Then out of the throat of the darkness came a stifled cry. It was thefighting rattle made by the strong man suddenly deprived of the power tobreathe.
Again it came, and this time more loudly, with a ring of despair in it.In the dead silence it seemed to fill the whole house, but the wallswere thick, and beyond the corridor there was no cognizance of anythingbeing in the least wrong.
But the man in the blanket against the arras heard it and struggled tohis feet. A long period of vivid personal danger had sharpened hissenses. His knowledge of woodcraft enabled him to locate the cry to ayard.
"My father," he whispered; "I am only just in time."
He felt his way rapidly, yet noiselessly, along the few feet between hisresting-place and Ravenspur's room. Imminent as the peril was, he yetpaused to push his blanket out of sight. As he came to the door ofRavenspur's room the cry rose higher. He stooped and then his fingerstouched something warm.
"Marion," he said; "I can catch the subtle fragrance of your hair."
The girl swallowed a scream. She was trembling from head to foot withfear and excitement. It was dark, the cry from within was despairing,the intense horror of it was dreadful.
"Yes, yes," she whispered hoarsely. "I was lying awake and I heard it.And that good old man told me to-day that his time was coming. I--I wasgoing to rouse the house. The door is locked."
"Do nothing of the sort. Stand aside."
The voice was low but commanding. Marion obeyed mechanically. With greatstrength and determination Ralph flung himself against the door. At thesecond assault the rusty iron bolt gave and the door flew open.
Inside, Ravenspur lay on his bed. By his bedside a nightlight cast afeeble pallid ray. There was nobody in the room besides Ravenspurhimself. He lay back absolutely rigid, a yellow hue was over his facelike a painted mask, his eyes were wide open, his lips twitchedconvulsively. Evidently he was in some kind of cataleptic fit and hissenses had not deserted him.
He was powerless to move and made no attempt to do so. The man waschoking to death and yet his limbs were rigid. A sickly sweet odorfilled the room and caused Ralph to double up and gasp for breath. Itwas as if the whole atmosphere was drenched with a fine spray ofchloroform. Marion stood in the doorway like a fascinated white statueof fear and despair.
"What is it?" she whispered. "What is that choking smell?"
Ralph made no reply; he was holding his breath hard. There was a queergrinning smile on his face as he turned toward the window.
The fumbling clutching long hands rested for a moment on Ravenspur'sforehead, and the next moment there was a sound of smashing glass, aswith his naked fists Ralph beat in the lozenge-shaped windows.
A quick cool draught of air rushed through the room, and the figure onthe bed ceased to struggle.
"Come in," said Ralph. "There is no danger now."
Marion entered. She was trembling from head to foot; her face was likedeath.
"What is it, what is it?" she cried. "Uncle Ralph, do you know what itis?"
"That is a mystery," Ralph replied. "There is some fiend at work here. Ionly guessed that the sickly odor was the cause of the mischief. You arebetter, sir?"
Ravenspur was sitting up in bed. The color had come back to his lips; heno longer struggled to breathe.
"I am all right," he said. His eyes beamed affectionately on Marion."Ever ready and ever quick, child, you saved my life from that namelesshorror."
"It was Uncle Ralph," said Ma
rion. "I heard your cry, but Uncle Ralphwas here as soon as I was. And it was a happy idea of his to break thewindow."
"It was that overpowering drug," said Ravenspur. "What it is and whereit came from must always remain a mystery. This is a new horror to hauntme--and yet there were others who died in their beds mysteriously. Iawoke to find myself choking; I was stifled by that sweet-smellingstuff; I could feel that my heart was growing weaker. But go, my child;you will catch your death of cold. Go to bed."
With an unsteady smile Marion disappeared. As she closed the doorbehind her, Ravenspur turned and grasped his son's wrist fiercely.
"Do you know anything of this?" he demanded. "You are blind, helpless;yet you were on the spot instantly. Do you know anything of this, Isay?"
Ralph shook his head.
"It was good luck," he said. "And how should I know anything? Ah, ablind man is but a poor detective."
Yet as Ralph passed to his strange quarters, there was a queer look onhis face. The long lean claws were crooked as if they were fastenedabout the neck of some enemy, some foe to the death.
"The hem of the mystery," he muttered. "Patience and prudence, and theday shall come when I shall have it by the throat, and such a lovelythroat, too!"