The Childerbridge Mystery

  CHAPTER XII

  Unexpected as the events of the evening had been, Jim Standerton, as hestood in his bedroom before retiring to rest, could not declare that healtogether regretted the turn they had taken. On the morrow he would goto London, and afterwards, armed with the Law's authority, he would makeHelen Decie his wife without delay. From that moment Mr. Bursfield mightdo his worst. Before retiring to his room he had visited Terence, andhad received from him a positive assurance that so far all was right forthe night. Knowing that he might trust the latter implicitly, he hadgiven him an account of what had happened that evening.

  "The sooner, sir, they put that old man under lock and key the better itwill be for everybody," said Terence. "Let him just come playing hislittle game round here, and he'll have me on his track like a Nyallblackfellow."

  Half-an-hour later, Jim was in bed and asleep, dreaming that he was backin the Bush once more, and that he and Terence were chasing wild horsesthrough a mountain range, and that, on the foremost horse, Helen wasseated, clinging to his mane, as if for dear life. He was gallopingafter her as fast as his horse could carry him, when suddenly a handclutched him by the throat, and tried to lift him out of the saddle.

  At that moment, however, he woke to find that this was no dream, but themost horrible reality he had ever known in his life. Bony fingers wereclutching tightly at his windpipe, rendering it impossible for him tobreathe. He endeavoured to rise and to seize his assailant, whoever hemight be, and throw him off. But his efforts were unavailing. Stillthose talon-like fingers retained their hold; try as he would he couldnot weaken their terrible grip. Little by little he felt himselfsinking. The room was in such total darkness that it was impossible todiscover whom his antagonist might be. In the last extremity of hisagony he rolled from the bed and lay helpless upon the floor, entangledin the clothes. With the fall, his assailant lost his grip of histhroat. Then something must have startled him, for a moment later thedoor opened, and he was gone. Disengaging himself as quickly as possiblefrom the bed-clothes, Jim staggered to his feet, half stunned by thefall and the terrific conflict in which he had so lately been engaged.As soon as he recovered he lit a candle, hastened to the door, opened itand passed out into the gallery. No one was to be seen there, but he hadnot gone many paces before he heard the same clicking noise that hadarrested his attention on the first occasion of his seeing the BlackDwarf. Making his way round the gallery, he reached the room occupied byTerence. The door stood ajar, and from the noises that proceeded fromwithin, he gathered that his trusty servant was not only in bed, butfast asleep. He crossed and shook him by the shoulders.

  "Get up, Terence," he whispered softly. "Get up at once."

  "What's the matter?" asked the half-awakened man. "Why, it's you, sir.Is there anything wrong?"

  "I should rather think so," Jim replied. "Look at my throat and see ifyou can detect any marks upon it."

  The other held up the candle as he was directed. On either side of histhroat were a number of bruises and scratches, and some of the latterwere bleeding profusely.

  "My gracious, sir!" said Terence; "it looks as if somebody had beentrying to strangle you."

  "You've hit it exactly," Jim replied. "Good heavens! Terence, I've beennearly murdered. You've no idea what a fight of it I've had in the dark.The man, whoever he was, finding that he couldn't finish me, bolted, andhas gone down some secret passage in the gallery. Terence, we must catchhim somehow."

  Terence sprang out of bed, and while he was dressing, Jim hastened backto his room and also donned some clothes. This done, he returned toTerence's bedroom, to discover that worthy in the act of lacing hisboots.

  "It's a funny business this, sir!" Terence remarked. "I wish I had beenbehind that gentleman when he was trying to settle you. I'd have givenhim one for his precious nob, ghost or no ghost."

  "I expect you would. Now be as quick as you can, for there is not amoment to lose if we want to catch him."

  Terence immediately announced himself as ready, and then, taking theircandles, they set off round the gallery towards the corridor where Jimfelt sure his mysterious assailant had disappeared. Inspection showedthem that the door of the stairs at the further end, leading down to thedomestic offices, was securely fastened on the other side. Having madesure of this, they tried, as on a previous occasion, the various roomsalong the corridor, searching each one most carefully. But no successattended their efforts.

  "It is quite certain that he is not in any of these rooms," said Jim."Now what we have to do is to discover the entrance to that secretpassage. I shall not rest content until we have found that."

  They accordingly returned to the corridor, where they set to work oncemore to over-haul the wainscotting. Beginning at one end, they worked tothe other; their efforts, however, met with no more success than theyhad done in the searching of the rooms. Every panel of the wainscottingseemed as hollow as its fellow--each projection as firmly secured.

  "And yet I am as certain that it is somewhere about here that hedisappeared," said Jim.

  At the entrance to the corridor from the gallery were two square pillarselaborately carved with fruit. Jim had explored his side, having pressedand pulled every pear and apple, with the usual result. Suddenly Terencetouched him on the arm.

  "Look here, sir," he whispered, "what's this? It seems to me that thisgrape is not very firm."

  Jim turned to him and knelt down beside the bunch of fruit indicated. Itcertainly did seem as if the lowest grape of the bunch were loose. Itshook under his finger, and yet showed no sign of coming off.

  "I believe we've got it at last," he said, pressing upon the grape, ashe spoke, with all his strength. Yet it did not move. He endeavoured topush it in the direction of the gallery, but still it remainedimmovable. He tried forcing it from him towards the corridor, when tohis amazement it left its place and moved half an inch or so away. As itdid so there was a heavy creaking noise, and a portion of the panellingof the corridor, some three feet in width and six feet high, swunginwards, disclosing a black cavity, which might either have been a wellor a staircase. Both men drew back in astonishment, half expecting thatJim's assailant, if he were concealed within, would dash out upon them.

  "We've found the place at last," said Jim. "Now, if I'm not mistaken, weshall be able to solve the mystery of the famous Childerbridge ghosts.Hold your candle aloft, Terence, so that we can see what we are doing,and we'll descend and discover where it leads to."

  "Let me go first, sir," Terence returned. "After the fight you hadupstairs, you may not be up to the mark, and I'm dying to have a turnwith him, if he's as big as a church."

  But Jim would not hear of this, and bade the other follow him. Holdingtheir lights aloft, they descended the narrow stone steps. They werelonger than they expected to find them, and when they reached the bottomJim knew that they must be some distance beneath the level of thefoundations of the house. They were then standing in a passage, somefour feet wide by seven in height. The walls and ceiling were of brick,the floor composed of huge blocks of stone. Everything reeked with dampwhile the air was as close and musty as a vault. Being resolved to leaveno part of it unexplored, Jim pushed on closely followed by Terence. Foreconomy's sake they blew out one of the candles, not knowing how farthey might have to travel, or what might happen to them by the way. Theyhad not been more than three minutes in the passage before Jim stopped,and turning to his companion, held up his hand.

  "What's up?" he asked.

  A sound as of heavy blows upon stone reached them from above.

  "I can tell you what it is, sir," said Terence, after a moment'sreflection. "It's the horses, and it means that we're under thestables."

  "In that case it must run the entire width of the house and burrow underthe courtyard. It means also that the direction is due east. This isgrowing interesting. Come along."

  After this discovery they pushed on with increased speed, but thepassage showed no signs of coming to an end. The air was close, but nowand again draugh
ts poured in upon them to prove that though they couldnot see them, there must be vent holes somewhere.

  "I wouldn't have believed such a place could have existed," said Jim."It seems as if we have come miles. By Jove, what's that?"

  As he spoke the light of his candle shone upon a dark mass huddled uponthe floor. A second later it became apparent that it was the figure of aman.

  "Take care, sir," said Terence, as Jim hastened towards the prostrateform, "it may be the man we want, and he's as like as not shamming."

  "We'll soon find that out," answered Jim, and knelt down beside theprostrate figure.

  While Terence held the candle, Jim rolled the figure over until theywere able to see the face. Then he uttered a cry of horror. _The manlying before them was none other than Abraham Bursfield!_

  "Good heavens, this is too terrible," said Jim, after the long pausewhich followed, during which he had assured himself that he had made nomistake as to the other's identity. "Is he dead, do you think, Terence?"

  "Quite dead, sir," Terence replied, after he too had knelt down andexamined him. "If he's the man who tried to kill you, he'll never do anymore mischief to anybody again."

  But Jim did not answer. A sickening feeling of giddiness was takingpossession of him. If it were Abraham Bursfield who had done his best tomurder him that night, it was only logical to conclude that he was alsothe man who had murdered his father. Doctor Weston had declared him tobe a madman that afternoon. Now he had certainly proved himself to beone of the most dangerous type. If that were the case what a narrowescape Helen had had.

  "What's to be done, Terence?--what's to be done?" Jim asked almostpiteously. "We could not have made a more terrible discovery."

  "There'll have to be an Inquest, sir," said Terence.

  "When it will be found that he entered my house and endeavoured tomurder me. Then it will be remembered how my father died. Two and twowill be put together, and the terrible truth will come out. That wouldbreak Miss Decie's heart."

  "Good heavens! sir, I see what you mean," said Terence. "I never thoughtof that."

  "He was mad, Terence, hopelessly mad, and therefore not responsible forhis actions. Poor Miss Decie!"

  "Aye, poor young lady. If she was so fond of the old gentleman, it wouldbreak her heart to know what he has been trying to do."

  "She must never know," said Jim, who by this time had made up his mind."I can trust you, Terence."

  "To the death, sir, and I think you know it. I've served you, sir, and Iserved your father before you, and I don't think you ever found mewanting. Tell me what you think of doing."

  "We must get him back to his own house, if possible," said Jim, "and lethim be found dead there. No one but our two selves will know the truth,and if we keep silence, no one need ever know that we found him here. Icannot let Miss Decie be made more unhappy than she is."

  "I don't know but that you are right, sir," Terence answered. "But howare we going to get him to the Dower House?"

  "We must go along the passage and see where it leads to. If I am notmistaken it will take us there. This place must have been made yearsago, when the two properties were one. We will leave the body here, and,if I am right in my conjecture, we can come back for it."

  They accordingly allowed the remains of Mr. Bursfield to lie where theyhad found them, and proceeded on their tour of exploration. As ittranspired, they had still a considerable distance to go before theyreached the end of the tunnel. At last, however, they found themselvesat the foot of a flight of stone steps, similar to those by which theyhad descended at the Manor House.

  "Tread very quietly," Jim whispered to his companion. "We must on noaccount rouse the servants."

  They noiselessly ascended the stairs until they found themselves at thetop, and confronted by a door.

  "I'll get you to stay here, Terence," Jim whispered, "while I open thisdoor and see where we are."

  He soon discovered what appeared to be a spring in the middle of thedoor, and when he had pressed it, had the satisfaction of seeing thedoor swing inwards. Shading the candle with his hand, Jim stepped intothe room he found before him. His surprise at finding himself in Mr.Bursfield's study, the same room in which he had his last unpleasantinterview with the old gentleman, can be better imagined than described.The secret door, he observed, formed part of the panelling on one sideof the fireplace, a fragment of carving in the setting of thechimney-piece being the means of opening it. The old man's papers andbooks were littered about the table just as he had left them; agrandfather clock ticked solemnly in the further right-hand corner,while a little mouse watched Jim from beneath the sofa, as if it wereendeavouring to ascertain his errand there at such an hour.

  Having made sure of his whereabouts, Jim returned to the passage,closing the door carefully behind him.

  "We must lose no time," he whispered to Terence; "it is already aquarter to three. Heaven grant that Isaac, his man-servant, does nottake it into his head to look in upon his master during the night. Hewould then find him absent, and that would make it rather difficult toexplain the fact of his being found dead in his chair in the morning."

  By this time their first candle had expired, and it became necessary tolight that Terence was carrying.

  "If we are not very careful we shall be compelled to make our way backin the dark, after we have carried him up here," said Jim. "This candlewill scarcely see us through."

  "Never mind that, sir, so long as we can get him in here safely," saidTerence. "I have got a box of matches in my pocket, and we can fumbleour way back somehow."

  They accordingly set off, and in due course reached the place where theyhad left the old man's body.

  "How are we to carry him?" asked Jim.

  "Oh, you leave that to me, sir. I can manage it," answered Terence. "Ifyou'll go ahead with the light, I'll follow you."

  So saying, he picked up the frail body, as if its weight were a matterof no concern to him, and they set off on their return journey to theDower House. If the distance had appeared a long one before, it wasdoubly so now. At last, however, they reached the steps, climbed them,and a few moments later were standing in the dead man's study once more.In spite of his assertions to the contrary, it was plain that hisexertions had taxed Terence's strength to its utmost. Between them theyplaced the body in the chair before the table.

  This done, they left the room as quietly as they had entered it, andmade their way down the steps once more. Jim's prophecy that the returnjourney would have to be made in darkness was fulfilled, for they hadscarcely reached the place where they had discovered the body ere thecandle fluttered out and they found themselves in inky darkness.

  Terence struck a match, but its feeble flicker was of little or no useto them. Fumbling their way along by the wall they continued toprogress, until a muttered exclamation from Terence, who was leading,proclaimed the fact that they had reached the steps at the further end.

  "Bad cess to 'em," said he, "I've barked my shins so that I shall havegood cause to remember them to my dying day."

  He thereupon lit another match, and by means of this modest illuminationthey climbed to the door in the corridor above.

  "Heaven be thanked! we're safe home once more," said Jim, as theystepped into the passage. "I trust I may never experience another nightlike this."

  Whispering to Terence to follow him quietly, he led the way round thegallery and downstairs to the dining-room, where he unlocked theTantalus and poured out a glass of spirits for Terence and another forhimself. Both stood in need of some sort of stimulant after all they hadbeen through.

  "Not a word must be breathed to any living being of this, Terence," hesaid, as he put his glass down. "Remember, I trust my secret to youimplicitly."

  "I give you my word, sir, that nobody shall ever hear it from me,"answered Terence, and then the two men solemnly shook hands.

  "Now, before we go to bed, I'll get you to come to my room and have alook at my throat," said Jim; "it's uncommonly sore."


  This proved to be the case. And small wonder was it, for the fingermarks were fast turning to bruises, while the scratches showed up asfiery-red as ever. Jim shuddered again and again as he recalled thatawful struggle and compared his escape with his father's cruel fate.

  "Another moment and in all probability he would have done for me too,"he said to himself, and then added somewhat inconsequently, "PoorHelen!"

  When his wounds had been dressed, he despatched Terence to bed; for hisown part, however, he knew that sleep was impossible. In fact, he didnot attempt to seek it, but seating himself in a comfortable chair,proceeded to read, with what attention he could bestow upon theoperation, until daylight.

  When the sun rose he dressed himself and went out, wearing a scarfinstead of a collar, in order that the wounds he had received might notbe apparent to the world. The memory of that hateful passage under thepark haunted him like an evil dream. He determined to have it closed atonce for good and all. While he remained the owner of Childerbridge noone should ever set foot in it again. He was still wondering how hecould best carry out the work without exciting suspicion or comment,when he observed an old man crossing the park towards him. As he drewnearer, Jim became aware that it was old Isaac, Mr. Bursfield'sman-servant and general factotum. It was also to be seen that he was ina very agitated state.

  "God have mercy upon us, sir!" he said, as he came up to Jim; "I've hadsuch a fright. Is Miss Helen with you?"

  "She is," Jim replied, and then endeavouring to speak unconcernedly, headded--"Has Mr. Bursfield sent you to find her?"

  "The poor gentleman will never send me on another errand," Isaac repliedsolemnly; "he has been sent for himself. He is dead!"