Part 19 (1/2)

I stepped softly to Sir John and put my lips to his ear as the whispering could be heard again, and I said softly: ”Shall I fetch the police?”

Sir John for answer set his candle down upon the top of one of the chests and put it out with the bar as he whispered to me in turn: ”Wait a few moments.” And then--”Look!” He pointed with the iron bar; and as I stared hard at the faint light s.h.i.+ning up from below the edge of the stone, I could see just the tips of some one's fingers come through and sweep the sawdust away to right and left. Then they came through a little more, and were drawn back, while directly after came the low whispering again, and the hand now was thrust right through as far as the wrist.

”Yes,” said Sir John then, as he grasped my arm--”the police!” Just then he uttered a gasp, and I turned to look at him; but we were in the dark, and I could not see his face, but he gripped my arm more tightly, and I looked once more toward the broad ray, to see the hand resting now full in the light, and I turned cold with horror, for there was something s.h.i.+ning quite brightly, and I could see that it was a signet ring, and what was more, the old ring Mr Barclay used to wear--the one he had worn since he was quite a stripling, and beyond which the joint had grown so big that he could never get the jewel off.

I should have bent down there, staring at that ring for long enough, fascinated, as you may say, only all at once I felt my arm dragged, and I was pushed softly into the outer cellar, and from there into the pa.s.sage beyond, Sir John closing and locking the door softly, before tottering into the pantry and sinking into a chair, uttering a low moan.

”Oh, don't take on, sir,” I whispered; but he turned upon me roughly.

”Silence, man!” he panted, ”and give me time to think;” and then I heard him breathe softly, in a voice so full of agony that it was terrible to hear: ”Oh, my son!--my son!”

”No, no, sir,” I said--for I couldn't bear it. ”He wouldn't; there's some mistake.”

”Mistake? Then you saw it too, Burdon? No; there is no mistake.”

I couldn't speak, for I remembered about the keys, and something seemed to come up in my throat and choke me, for it seemed so terrible for my young master to have done this thing.

”What are you going to do, sir?” I said at last, and it was me now who gripped his arm.

”Do?” he said bitterly. ”All that is a heritage: mine to hold in trust for my son--his after my death to hold in trust for the generations to come. Burdon, it is an incubus--a curse; but I have my duty to do: that old gold shall not be wasted on a--”

STORY TWO, CHAPTER NINE.

MR BARCLAY GOES TOO FAR.

When young Mr Barclay--

Stop! How do I know all this?

Why, it was burned into my memory, and I heard every word from him.

When young Mr Barclay left the dining-room on the night he disappeared, he went up to his own room, miserable at his position with his father, and taking to himself the blame for the unhappiness that he had brought upon the girl who loved him with all her sweet true heart. ”But it's fate--it's fate,” he said, as he went up to his room; and then, unable to settle himself there, he lit a cigar, came down, and went out just as he was dressed in his evening clothes, only that he had put on a light overcoat, and began to walk up and down in front of our house and watch the windows opposite, to try and catch a glimpse of Miss Adela.

Ten o'clock, eleven, struck, but she did not show herself at the window; and feeling quite sick at heart, he was thinking of going in again, when he suddenly heard a faint cough, about twenty yards away; and turning sharply, he saw the lady he was looking for crossing the road, having evidently just come back from some visit.

”Adela--at last,” he whispered as he caught her hand.

”Mr Drinkwater!” she cried in a startled way. ”How you frightened me!”

”Love makes men fools,” said Mr Barclay, as he slipped into her home ere she could close the door. ”Now take me in and introduce me to your sisters.”

”Adela, is that you? Here, for goodness' sake. Why don't you answer?”

”Is she there?”

The first was a rough man's voice, the next that of a woman, and as they were heard in the pa.s.sage, another voice cried hoa.r.s.ely: ”It's of no use: the game's up.”

”Hist! Hide! Behind that curtain! Anywhere!” panted Adela, starting up in alarm. ”Too late!”

Barclay had sprung to his feet, and stood staring in amazement, and perfectly heedless of the girl's appeal to him to hide, as two rough bricklayer-like men came in, followed by a woman.