The Dark House Part 8

"A bangle and a hundred pounds! _Mon Dieu_!"

Then the drawing-room door closed, and Ramo stood in the dark, leaning over the bal.u.s.trade of the great well staircase, listening intently till he saw a door open, and a flash of light came out, s.h.i.+ning on the round, full face of the old butler, and the keen features of Charles, the footman, the latter bearing a tray of silver chamber candlesticks.

Ramo glided away, and the two servants bore the tray to the drawing-room, asked if they would be wanted again, and retired.

"Good-night, dearest," cried Katrine, kissing Lydia affectionately. "I congratulate you. I am not jealous. Good-night, Mr Girtle--how tired you must be," she said, shaking hands. "Good-night, Mr Artis.

Good-night, Mr Capel. I congratulate you heartily. Good-night!"

Five minutes later the great drawing-room was as still as the chamber of the dead, and in the dark house--on staircase and in hall--statue and picture looked on, and the kneeling idols crouched with their eyes closed to what was pa.s.sing, while the great bronze centaur stood with uplifted club, ready to strike there, where he seemed to be on guard, at his dead master's door.

But he struck no blow, and the night pa.s.sed, and the morning came--a dull, drizzling morning--when the fog hung low, and it was still like night when Preenham, the butler, knocked heavily at Mr Girtle's door.

The old lawyer drew the wire, and the night latch allowed the butler to rush in.

"Hot water, Preenham?" said the old man.

"For Heaven's sake, get up, sir, and I'll call Mr Capel, sir!" panted the butler.

"What! Something wrong?"

"Yes, sir--quick! I'm afraid there's murder done."

CHAPTER EIGHT.

THE HORRORS OF A MORN.

By the time Mr Girtle was partly dressed and had hurried out on the landing, Paul Capel and Gerard Artis had left their rooms, ready to question him upon the cause of the alarm.

"I don't know," he said, trembling. "Preenham came and roused me-- speaking of murder--and, bless my soul! I did not know you were there.

Miss Lawrence, too!"

Katrine and Lydia had joined them there on the landing of the second floor, where a chamber candlestick on a table was almost the only light, for that which came through the ground-gla.s.s at the top of the staircase was so much yellow gloom.

"One of the maids--Anne--came and woke me," said Katrine, speaking very calmly, as she looked from one to the other, the most collected of any one present. "She said there was something wrong."

"She woke me, too," cried Lydia, who was trembling visibly, and looked of a sallow grey.

"Mr Girtle, will you come down?"

It was the butler's voice, and Paul Capel ran quickly down the stairs to the drawing-room floor, where the old butler, ghastly pale, with his hair sticking to his forehead, had lit half-a-dozen candles and stood them, some on a table, some on the pedestal of the great bronze group outside Colonel Capel's door.

"What is it? Speak, man!" cried Capel.

"The ladies! Don't let the ladies come!"

It was too late; they were already there; and the women-servants were dimly seen in the gloom at the foot of the stairs.

"But what is wrong?" cried Capel.

"I--I--"

The butler pa.s.sed his hand over his humid face, and looked piteously from one to the other.

"Preenham! Speak, man! At once!" said Mr Girtle, sternly.

"I woke at half-past seven, sir," he said, in a trembling voice, "and wondered that I had not been called at seven. Mr Ramo, sir, always rose very early, and called me and Charles; but I was not surprised, for since master's death, he has slept outside his door, I think--I'm almost sure, though I never said anything to--"

"Man, you are torturing us!" cried Capel.

"Give him time," said Artis, who looked nervous and strange.

"Yes, let him speak," said Katrine. "Go on, Mr Preenham, and tell us."

"Thank you ma'am, I will," said the butler; "but--but would you ladies go back to your room or the drawing-room, I've something--something--"

"I'm not a child," said Katrine. "Lydia, dear, you had better go."

"I will stay with you," said Lydia, laying her hand upon Katrine's arm; and after a helpless look round, and a motion of his hands, as if he washed them of any trouble that might come, the old butler went on.

"I didn't take much notice, as we were late last night, but as soon as I was dressed, I knocked at Charles' door--he sleeps in a turn-up bedstead in the servants' hall."

The old man directed this piece of information to those around him, and then went on.

"There was no answer, so I went in, and Charles was not there."

"Not there?" said Mr Girtle, quickly.

"No, sir. The bed had not been slept in. His livery was on the chair by it, and his cupboard was open where he keeps his private clothes."

"This is strange," said Mr Girtle. "Go on."

"Yes, sir. I thought perhaps he had let himself out through the area gate, sir. He has done such things before, and at a time like this I must speak plain."

"Yes. Let me have the truth. Go on."

"I was very angry, sir, and I meant to tell you, for it seemed disgraceful at such a time."

"Go on."

"I will, sir," faltered the butler, "but you must not flurry me. I have had a shock."

"Let him go on his own way, Mr Capel," said the old lawyer.

Preenham gave him a grateful look and continued:

"I thought I'd go and speak to Mr Ramo, and then I met Cook and Anne."