Part 11 (2/2)

”Here!” he nodded his head towards the big, dark house in the garden. ”I was cutting across to the gate when that confounded cab ran into me.

Could you help me so far?”

It was easily done. I put his cycle inside the gate, and then I supported him down the drive, and up the steps to the hall door. There was not a light anywhere, and the place was as black and silent as if no one had ever lived in it.

”That will do. Thank you very much,” said he, fumbling with his key in the lock.

”No, you must allow me to see you safe.”

He made some feeble, petulant protest, and then realised that he could really do nothing without me. The door had opened into a pitch-dark hall. He lurched forward, with my hand still on his arm.

”This door to the right,” said he, feeling about in the darkness.

I opened the door, and at the same moment he managed to strike a light.

There was a lamp upon the table, and we lit it between us. ”Now, I'm all right. You can leave me now! Good-bye!” said he, and with the words he sat down in the arm-chair and fainted dead away.

It was a queer position for me. The fellow looked so ghastly, that really I was not sure that he was not dead. Presently his lips quivered and his breast heaved, but his eyes were two white slits and his colour was horrible. The responsibility was more than I could stand. I pulled at the bell-rope, and heard the bell ringing furiously far away. But no one came in response. The bell tinkled away into silence, which no murmur or movement came to break. I waited, and rang again, with the same result. There must be some one about. This young gentleman could not live all alone in that huge house. His people ought to know of his condition. If they would not answer the bell, I must hunt them out myself. I seized the lamp and rushed from the room.

What I saw outside amazed me. The hall was empty. The stairs were bare, and yellow with dust. There were three doors opening into s.p.a.cious rooms, and each was uncarpeted and undraped, save for the grey webs which drooped from the cornice, and rosettes of lichen which had formed upon the walls. My feet reverberated in those empty and silent chambers.

Then I wandered on down the pa.s.sage, with the idea that the kitchens, at least, might be tenanted. Some caretaker might lurk in some secluded room. No, they were all equally desolate. Despairing of finding any help, I ran down another corridor, and came on something which surprised me more than ever.

The pa.s.sage ended in a large, brown door, and the door had a seal of red wax the size of a five-s.h.i.+lling piece over the key-hole. This seal gave me the impression of having been there for a long time, for it was dusty and discoloured. I was still staring at it, and wondering what that door might conceal, when I heard a voice calling behind me, and, running back, found my young man sitting up in his chair and very much astonished at finding himself in darkness.

”Why on earth did you take the lamp away?” he asked.

”I was looking for a.s.sistance.”

”You might look for some time,” said he. ”I am alone in the house.”

”Awkward if you get an illness.”

”It was foolish of me to faint. I inherit a weak heart from my mother, and pain or emotion has that effect upon me. It will carry me off some day, as it did her. You're not a doctor, are you?”

”No, a lawyer. Frank Alder is my name.”

”Mine is Felix Stanniford. Funny that I should meet a lawyer, for my friend, Mr. Perceval, was saying that we should need one soon.”

”Very happy, I am sure.”

”Well, that will depend upon him, you know. Did you say that you had run with that lamp all over the ground floor?”

”Yes.”

”_All_ over it?” he asked, with emphasis, and he looked at me very hard.

”I think so. I kept on hoping that I should find some one.”

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