Part 98 (1/2)
”Tea ready, Liza?” said George Vine, as the door was opened, and the pleasant glow from the hall shone upon them in a way that, in spite of his a.s.sumed cynicism, looked tempting and attractive to Uncle Luke.
”Miss Louise hasn't rung for the urn yet, sir.”
”Hah! that will do. Give me your hat, Luke.”
”Bah! nonsense! Think I can't hang up my own hat now.”
George Vine smiled, and he shook his head at his brother with a good-humoured smile as he let him follow his own bent.
”That's right. Come along. Louie dear, I've brought Uncle Luke up to tea. All dark? Liza, bring the lamp.”
Liza had pa.s.sed through the baize-covered door which separated the domestic offices from the rest of the house, and did not hear the order.
”Louie! Louie dear!”
”Oh! I don't mind the dark,” said Uncle Luke. ”Here, why don't the girl let in some air these hot nights?” he continued, as he crossed the room towards the big embayment, with its stained gla.s.s heraldic device.
_Crack_! _crackle_!
”Hullo here! broken gla.s.s under one's feet,” said Luke Vine, with a chuckle. ”This comes of having plenty of servants to keep your place clean.”
”Gla.s.s?”
”Yes, gla.s.s. Can't you hear it?” snarled Uncle Luke, who, as he found his brother resume his old demeanour, relapsed into his own. ”There!
gla.s.s--gla.s.s--gla.s.s crunching into your Turkey carpet.”
As he spoke he gave his foot a stamp, with the result that at each movement there was a sharp crackling sound.
”It's very strange. Louise!”
”Oh!”
A low, piteous moan.
”What's that?” cried Uncle Luke sharply.
George Vine stood in the darkness paralysed with dread. Some fresh trouble had befallen his house--some new horror a.s.sailed him; and his hand wandered vaguely about in search of support as a terrible feeling of sickness came over him, and he muttered hoa.r.s.ely, ”Louise! my child!
my child!”
Luke Vine was alarmed, but he did not lose his presence of mind.
”Margaret--a fit,” he said to himself, as, turning quickly, his foot kicked against another portion of the lamp-globe, which tinkled loudly as it fell to pieces.
He brushed by his brother, hurrying out into the hall, to return directly bearing the lamp which stood on a bracket, and holding it high above his head as he stepped carefully across the carpet.
”There! there!” whispered George Vine, pointing towards the fireplace, where he could see a figure lying athwart the hearth-rug.
Then, as Luke held the light higher, George Vine seemed to recover his own presence of mind, and going down on one knee as he bent over, he turned the face of the prostrate man to the light.