CHAPTER XXXII
THE LOST SCRIPT
After a little consideration of ways and means, we decided that the bestthing we could do was to pass through the passage to the old chapel.It was still very early, so early that in all probability none of thehousehold were yet awake; if Marjory could regain her room beforebeing seen, it would avoid curiosity. She was certainly in a shockingcondition of dust and dishevelment. Her groping in the dark through thatlong rugged passage had not been accomplished without many hardships.Her dress was torn in several places, and her hat was simply knocked topieces; even her hair was tumbled about, and had been put up again andagain with dusty fingers. She saw me smiling; I think it pained her alittle for she suddenly said:
"Come along quick; it's simply awful standing here in the light of dayin this filthy state. It won't feel half so bad in the dark passage!"Without more ado I lit my lamp, and having, of course, closed theentrance behind us, we went back into the cavern.
The tramp back through the tunnel did not seem nearly so long or sodifficult as at first. It may have been that comparative familiaritymade it easier; it certainly eased its terrors. Or it is possible thatour companionship, each to the other, made the bearing of fears anddifficulties lighter.
Anyhow, it was something of a surprise to both of us to find ourselvesso quickly in the rude chamber whence the steps led up to the oldchapel. Before we left this, we made a rough examination of it, turningthe lantern over walls and floor and ceiling; for I had an idea that thepassage from the castle, which I was satisfied must exist, made its exithere. We could not, however, see any external sign of an opening; thewalls were built up of massive unmortared stones, and were seemingly assolid as the rock itself.
When we got into the chapel we found the utility of Marjory's foresight.In a corner was her little basket with soap and towel, water and clothesbrush; and together we restored her to some semblance of decency. Thenshe went back to the castle and got in unobserved, as I, watching fromthe shelter of the trees, could see. I took my way back through thepassage; and so to the wood where my bicycle was hidden. I washed myhands in the stream and lay down in the shelter of a thick grove ofhazel, where I slept till breakfast time. When I rode up to the castle,I found Marjory with her kodak on the sweep outside, taking views of itsvarious points.
The morning was intensely hot; and here, in the shelter of the littlevalley and the enclosing wood, the air was sultry, and the sun beat downpitilessly. We had a table set out under the shelter of the trees andbreakfasted _al fresco_.
When we were alone in her boudoir I settled with Marjory that we wouldon that evening attempt to find the treasure, as the tide would be outat midnight. So we went down to the library and got out Don de Escoban'snarrative and began to read it afresh, noting as we went every word andsign of the secret writing, in the hope that we might in thus doingstumble on some new secret or hidden meaning.
Whilst we were thus engaged a servant came looking for Mrs. Jack, forwhom a stranger had brought a letter. Marjory told where she might befound, and for some time we went on with our work.
Suddenly the door opened, and Mrs. Jack entered, speaking over hershoulder as she came to a high-bred looking, dark man who followed her.As she saw us she stopped and said to Marjory:
"Oh! my dear, I didn't know you were here. I thought you were in theladies' room." This was what they usually called the big room at the topof the castle. We both rose, seeing a stranger. For my own part therewas something in his face which set me thinking; as to Marjory I couldnot help noticing that she drew herself up to her full height, and heldherself at tension in that haughty way which now and again marked herhigh spirit and breeding. There seemed so little cause for this attitudethat my own thinking of the new-comer was lost in the contemplationof hers. Mrs. Jack noticed that there was some awkwardness, and spokehurriedly:
"This is the gentleman, my dear, that the agent wrote about; and ashe wanted to look over the house I brought him myself." The strangerprobably taking his cue from her apologetic tone spoke:
"I trust I have not disturbed the Senora; if I have, pardon! I have butcome to renew my memory of a place, dear to me in my youth, and whichthrough the passing of time and of some who were, is now my ownheritage." Marjory smiled, and swept him a curtsey as she said, butstill in her distant arm's-length manner:
"Then you are the owner of the castle, sir. I hope that we do notdisturb you. Should you wish to be anywhere alone we shall gladlywithdraw and wait your pleasure." He raised a hand of eloquent protest,a well-kept, gentleman's hand, as he said in tones sweet and deferent:
"Oh! I pray you, do not stir. May I say that when my house is gracedwith the presence of so much loveliness I am all too full of gratitudeto wish for any change. I shall but look around me, for I have a certainduty to do. Alas! this my heritage comes not only as a joy, but withgrave duties which I must fulfill. Well I know this room. Many a time asa boy I have sat here with my kinsman, then so old and distant from mein my race; and yet I am his next successor. Here has he told me of oldtimes, and of my race of which we who have the name are so proud; and ofthe solemn duty which might some day come to me. Could I but tell...."Here he stopped suddenly.
His eyes had been wandering all over the room, up and down thebookshelves, and at the few pictures which the walls contained. Whenthey rested on the table, a strange look came into them. Here laythe type-script which we had been reading, and the secret writing ofthe dotted printing. It was on the latter that his eyes were fixedabsorbingly.
"Where did you get that?" he said suddenly, pointing to it. The questionin its bald simplicity was in word rude, but his manner of asking it wasso sweet and deferential that to me it robbed it of all offence. I wasjust about to answer when my eye caught that of Marjory, and I paused.There was such meaning in her eyes that my own began roving to find thecause of it. As I looked she put her hands on the table before her, andher fingers seemed to drum nervously. To me, however, it was no nervoustrifling; she was speaking to me in our own cipher.
"Be careful!" she spelled out "there is some mystery! Let me speak."Then turning to the stranger she said:
"It is curious is it not?"
"Ah, Senora, though curious it be in itself, it is nothing to thestrangeness of its being here. If you only knew how it had been searchedfor; how the whole castle had been ransacked from roof to dungeon tofind it, and always without avail. Did you but understand the import ofthat paper to me and mine--if indeed the surmises of many generationsof anxious men availed aught--you would pardon my curiosity. In my ownyouth I assisted in a search of the whole place; no corner was leftuntouched, and even the secret places were opened afresh." As he wenton, Marjory's eyes were resting on his face unflinchingly, but herfingers were spelling out comments to me.
"There are secret places, then; and he knows them. Wait" the strangerwent on:
"See, I shall convince you that I speak from no idle curiosity, but froma deep conviction of a duty that was mine and my ancestors' for ages."There was a sternness mingled with his grave sweetness now; it wasevident that he was somewhat chagrined or put out by our silence.Leaving the table he went over to one of the bookshelves, and afterrunning his eye over it for a moment, put his hand up and from a shelfabove his head took down a thick leather-covered volume. This he laidon the table before us. It was a beautiful, old black letter law book,with marginal notes in black letter and headings in roman type. Thepagination was, I could see as he turned it over, by folios. He turnedto the title-page, which was an important piece of printing in manytypes, explanatory of the matter of the book. He began to read theparagraphs, placed in the triangular in form in vogue at that day;following the text with his forefinger he read:
"A collection in English of the Statutes now in force, continued fromthe beginning of Magna Charta made in the 9. yeere of the reigne of KingH. 3. until the ende of the Session of Parliament holden in the 28 yeereof the reigne of our gracious Queene Elizabeth under Titles placed byorder of Alphabet. Wherein
is performed (touching the Statutes wherewithJustices of the Peace have to deale) so much as was promised in theBooke of their office lately published. For which purpose"--&c.&c.,--Then turning over the page he pointed to a piece of faded writingon the back of it which had been left blank of printing. We bent downand read in the ink, faded to pale brown by time:
"My sonnes herein you will find the law which binds the stranger in thisland, wherein a stranger is a Vagabond. F. de E.
XXIII. X. MDLXLIX."
Then he turned rapidly over the leaves, till towards the end there was agap. On the right hand page, where the folio number was all along placedwas the number 528.
"See," he said, turning back and pointing to the bottom of the titlepage "Anno 1588. Three hundred years, since first my people used it."
Turning back he looked at the folio before the gap; it was 510. "See"he said, placing his hand on the pinmarked pages. "Folio 511 and theheading of 'Vagabonds, Beggars, et cetera.'" He folded his arms in adignified way and stood silent.
All along I had been following my own train of thought, even whilstI had been taking in the stranger's argument, and at the same timenoting Marjory's warning. If this man who owned the Castle knew of theexistence of the secret writing; whose ancestors had owned the book inwhich was the clue signed F. de E., surely then this could be none otherthan the descendant of the Don Bernardino who had hidden the treasure.This was his castle; no wonder that he knew its secret ways.
Matters were getting complicated. If this man were now the hereditaryguardian of the hidden treasure--and from his likeness to the ghostlySpaniard whom I had seen in the procession at Whinnyfold I saw no reasonto doubt it--he might be an enemy with whom we should have to cope. Iwas all in a whirl, and for a few seconds I think quite lost my head.Then rushed over me the conviction that the mere lapse of time passedin these few minutes of agonised silence was betraying our secret. Thisbrought me up with a round turn, and I looked about me. The strange manwas standing still as marble; his face was set, and there was no sign oflife in him except his eyes which blazed as they wandered around, takingeverything in. Mrs. Jack saw that there was something going on which shedid not understand, and tried to efface herself. Marjory was standing bythe table, still, erect and white. Her fingers began to drum softly asshe caught my eye, and spelled out:
"Give him the paper, from Mrs. Jack. Lately found in old oak chest. Saynothing of interpretation." This seemed such a doubtful move that withmy eyes I queried it. She nodded in reply. So I gathered myself togetherand said:
"I'm afraid, sir, that there is some mystery here which I cannotundertake to understand. I think I may say, however, for my friend Mrs.Jack, that there will be no trouble in your having full possession ofyour book. I am told that these pages were lately found in an old oakchest. It is remarkable that they should have been missing so long. Wewere attracted by the funny marks. We thought that there might be somesort of cryptogram; and I suppose I may take it, from the fact of yourlooking for them so long, that this is so?"
He grew suspicious in a moment, and stiffened all over. Marjory saw, andappreciated the reason. She smiled at me with her eyes as she drummed onthe table:
"The herring is across his path!" As the awkward pause was this timewith the stranger, we waited with comparative ease. I saw with a feelingof wonder that there was, through all her haughtiness, a spice of malicein Marjory's enjoyment of his discomfiture. I looked at Mrs. Jack andsaid: "May I give these papers to Mr. ----" She answered promptly:
"Why cert'nly! If Mr. Barnard wants them." Marjory turned round suddenlyand in a surprised voice said:
"Mr. Barnard?"
"That is the name given in the letter which he brought, my dear!" Thestranger at once spoke out:
"I am Mr. Barnard here; but in my own country I am of an older name.I thank you, sir, and Madam" turning to Mrs. Jack "for your courteousoffer. But it will be time enough for me to consider the lost pages whenthrough the unhappiness of your departure from my house, I am enabled tocome hither to live. In the meantime, all I shall ask is that the pagesbe replaced in this book and that it be put in its place on the shelfwhere none shall disturb it." As he spoke in his sweet, deferential waythere was something in his look or manner which did not accord with hiswords; a quick eager shifting of his eyes, and a breathing hard whichwere at variance with his words of patience. I did not pretend, however,to notice it; I had my own game to play. So without a word I placed thepages carefully in the book and put the latter back on the shelf fromwhich he had taken it. There was an odd look in Marjory's face which Idid not quite understand; and as she gave me no clue to her thoughts byour sign language, I waited. Looking at the stranger haughtily, and witha distinctly militant expression she said:
"The agent told us that the Barnard family owned this castle!" He bowedgravely, but a hot, angry flush spread over his face as he replied:
"He spoke what truth he knew." Marjory's reply came quickly:
"But you say you are one of the family, and the very memorandum youpointed out was signed F. de E." Again the hot flush swept his face; butpassed in an instant, leaving him as pale as the dead. After a pause ofa few moments he spoke in a tone of icy courtesy:
"I have already said, Senora, that in this country our name--my name, isBarnard. A name taken centuries ago when the freedom of the great landof England was not as now; when tolerance for the stranger was not. Inmy own land, the land of my birth, the cradle of my race, I am calledDon Bernardino Yglesias Palealogue y Santordo y Castelnuova de Escoban,Count of Minurca and Marquis of Salvaterra!" As he rehearsed his titleshe drew himself up to his full height; and pride of race seemed actuallyto shine or emanate from him. Marjory, too, on her side of the tabledrew herself up proudly as she said in a voice in which scorn struggledfor mastery with dignity:
"Then you are a Spaniard!"