STORY TWO, CHAPTER EIGHT.
THE SIGNET RING.
It was exactly twelve o'clock by the chiming timepiece in the hall.Just the hour for such a task, I felt with a sort of shiver, as Sir Johncame down to the pantry, where I had candles ready, and a small crowbarused for opening packing-cases, and a screw-driver.
"Everybody seems quiet up-stairs, Burdon," says Sir John, "so let's getto work at once.--But, hillo! just put out a lamp?"
"No, Sir John," I said. "I often smell that now; but I've never beenable to make out what it is."
"Humph! Strange," he says; and then we went straight to the cellar, thegreat baize door at the top of the kitchen steps being shut; anddirectly after we were standing on the damp sawdust with the bins ofwine all round.
"It hasn't been touched, apparently, and there seems to be no need; butI should like to see if it is all right. But we shall never get throughthere, Burdon," he says, looking at the bricked-up wall, across the wayto the inner cellar.
"I don't know," I said, taking off my coat and rolling up my sleeves, tofind that though the highest price had been paid for that bricklaying,the cheat of a fellow who had the job had used hardly a bit of sand andbad lime, so that, after I had loosened one brick and levered it out,all the others came away one at a time quite clear of the mortar.
"Never mind," says Sir John. "Out of evil comes good. I'll try thatsherry too, Burdon, and we'll put some fresh in its place. But ifthat's left twenty years, we shall never live to taste it, eh?"
I shook my head sadly as I worked away in that arch, easily reaching thetop bricks, which were only six feet from the sawdust; and, as is oftenthe case, what had seemed a terrible job proved to be easy.
"There," he says; "the place will be sweeter now. We'll just have aglance at the old chests, and then we must build up the empty bottlesagain. To-morrow, I'll order in some more wine--for my son."
He said that last so solemnly that I looked up at him as he stood therewith the light shining in his eyes.
"As'll come back some day, sorry for the past, Sir John," I said, "andready to do what you wish."
"Please God, Burdon!" he says, bowing his head for a bit. Then helooked up quite sharply, and took a candle, and I the other. "Comealong," he says in his old, quiet, stern way; and I was half afraid Ihad offended him, as he stepped in at the opening and stood at the mouthof the inner cellar. Then I heard him give a sharp sniff; and I smeltit too--that same odour of burnt oil. We neither of us spoke as wewalked over the damp black sawdust, both thinking of the likelihood offoul air being in the place; but we found we could breathe all right;and as we held up the candles, the light shone on the black-looking oldchests, every one with its padlocks and seals all right, just as we hadleft them all those years before.
I looked up at Sir John, and he gave me a satisfied nod as he tried oneof the seals, and then we both stood as if turned to stone, for fromjust at my feet there came a dull knocking sound, and as I looked down,I could see the black sawdust shake.
What I wanted to do was to run, for I felt that the place was haunted;but I couldn't move, and when I looked at Sir John, he was holding uphis right hand, as if to order me to be silent. Then he held his candledown, for there was another sound, but this time more of a grindingcracking in a dull sort of way, just as if some one was forcing an ironchisel in between the joints of the stones. Then there was a longpause, and I half thought it had been fancy; but soon after, as I stoodthere hardly able to breathe, the sawdust just in one place was heavedup about an inch.
I was terribly alarmed, not knowing what to think; but Sir John wasbrave as brave, and he signed to me not to speak, and stood watchingtill there was a dull cracking sound, the sawdust was heaved up again,and all at once I seemed to get a hot puff of that burnt oily smellright in my nose. Then I began to understand, and felt afraid in adifferent fashion, as I knew that we had only got there just in time.
The next minute Sir John made a movement toward me, took my candle andturned it upside down, so that it went out, and then pointed back towardthe outer cellar, as he put his lips to my ear:
"Iron bar!"
I stepped back softly, and got the iron bar from where it lay on theedge of a bin, and I was about to pick up the screw-driver, when Iremembered where the wooden mallet lay, and I picked up that beforestepping softly back to where Sir John was watching the floor; and now Icould see that the sawdust was higher in one place, as if a flagstonehad been heaved up a little at one end.
There was no doubt about it, for, as I handed the crowbar, the end ofthe stone was wrenched up a little higher and then stuck; for it wastightly held by those on either side; but it was up far enough to let athin ray of dull light come up through the floor and shine on the sideof one of the old chests.
It was a curious scene there, in that gloomy cellar: Sir John standingon one side, candle in his left, the iron bar in his right hand, and meon the other bending down ready with the mallet to hit over the head thefirst that should come up through the floor. For, though horriblyalarmed, I could understand now what it all meant--an attempt to stealthe gold in the chests, though how those who were working below hadmanaged to get there was more than I could have said.
As we watched, the smell of the burnt oil came through, and I knew thatit must have been going on for a long time.
All at once we could hear a low whispering, and then there was agrinding noise of iron against stone; the flag gritted and gave alittle, but it held fast all along; and I could understand that the manwho was trying to wrench it up had no room to work, and therefore nopower to wrench up the stone. Then came the faint whispering again, andit seemed to sound hollow. Then another grinding noise, and the end ofthe flag was moved a trifle higher, so that the line of light on the oldchest looked two or three inches broad.
I stepped softly to Sir John and put my lips to his ear as thewhispering could be heard again, and I said softly: "Shall I fetch thepolice?"
Sir John for answer set his candle down upon the top of one of thechests and put it out with the bar as he whispered to me in turn: "Waita few moments." And then--"Look!" He pointed with the iron bar; and asI stared hard at the faint light shining up from below the edge of thestone, I could see just the tips of some one's fingers come through andsweep the sawdust away to right and left. Then they came through alittle more, and were drawn back, while directly after came the lowwhispering again, and the hand now was thrust right through as far asthe wrist.
"Yes," said Sir John then, as he grasped my arm--"the police!" Justthen he uttered a gasp, and I turned to look at him; but we were in thedark, 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 nowfull in the light, and I turned cold with horror, for there wassomething shining quite brightly, and I could see that it was a signetring, and what was more, the old ring Mr Barclay used to wear--the onehe had worn since he was quite a stripling, and beyond which the jointhad 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, andI was pushed softly into the outer cellar, and from there into thepassage beyond, Sir John closing and locking the door softly, beforetottering 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 heardhim breathe softly, in a voice so full of agony that it was terrible tohear: "Oh, my son!--my son!"
"No, no, sir," I said--for I couldn't bear it. "He wouldn't; there'ssome 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 seemedto come up in my throat and choke me, for it seemed so terrible for myyoung master to have done this thing.
"What are you going to do, sir?
" I said at last, and it was me now whogripped his arm.
"Do?" he said bitterly. "All that is a heritage: mine to hold in trustfor my son--his after my death to hold in trust for the generations tocome. Burdon, it is an incubus--a curse; but I have my duty to do: thatold gold shall not be wasted on a--"