Chapter XIX
_The Seat Perilous_
Wednesday, the twentieth of June, was the blackest of all black days.When Betty's letter came I found it very unsatisfactory reading.Warriner had been making the most of his opportunities; that wascertain. He had been over twice for five-o'clock-tea, and a number ofpleasant affairs were in prospect--a water party on the Bowl, a day'sgolf at Pittsfield, a masked ball at Lenox; so it went. Apparently Bettywas in for a royal good time, and she had no compunction in making meaware of the fact. My intrusion upon the forbidden ground of the librarywas, it seemed, a matter of no importance; not even mentioned. Later on,I realized that she could not have received my communication on thesubject--but never mind; I felt aggrieved, and the black dog of jealousyheeled me wherever I went that long, beautiful June day. Surely, I wasthe most miserable man alive, and it is not surprising that I diligentlycontinued the digging of the pit into which I was so soon to fall.
Thursday, the twenty-first, brought a number of business matters to myattention, and under the pressure of these imperative duties I halfforgot about my troubles. Again Betty's letter was non-committal andmade no references to my doings or delinquencies. I should have enjoyedcalling it evasive, but that was hardly possible seeing that Warriner'sname was mentioned three or four times; the fellow was assuredly makinghay. After my solitary evening dinner I thought it wise to keep my mindat work, and, accordingly, I started in on a big batch of farm accounts.
I had heard the trampling of a horse's hoofs on the gravel drive, buthad paid no attention; now a heavy step echoed along the black-and-whitechequers of the great hall, and I became conscious that Marcus, thehouse-boy, stood at the door in the act of announcing a visitor. Ilooked up and saw John Thaneford.
Amazement held me speechless for a moment; then I found my feet andblurted out some form of greeting; I can't be sure that we actuallyshook hands, but this was my house and he had come as a guest; I mustobserve the decencies.
"Black Jack" had changed but little in the two years since I had seenhim. Perhaps a trifle broader in girth, while the cleft between hissable eyebrows was deeper than ever. Apparently, he was quite at hisease, and I fancied that he took a furtive and malicious pleasure in myembarrassment. Now we were seated; I pushed the box of cigars to hishand, and waited, tongued-tied and flushing, for the conversational iceto be broken.
"So we meet again, Cousin Hugh!" he began, with perfect aplomb. "Youdon't appear to be overjoyed."
"Why should I be?" I retorted. "But I don't forget that you are under myroof. Naturally, I am somewhat surprised."
"At my return, or because I am seeking you out at the 'Hundred?'Possibly, you have forgotten that I no longer possess even the apologyof a shelter that was once 'Thane Court.'"
"You can hardly hold me responsible for the fire," I said, feelingsomewhat nettled at his tone.
"Oh, surely not," he assented, flicking the ash from his cigar with anairy wave of his hand--that well remembered, big hand with itsblack-tufted knuckles.
"As for the property, I bought it in at public sale to protect myself.You can have it back at any time for the price I paid. And no interestcharges."
"Very good of you, Cousin Hugh, and later on I may hold you to youroffer. I may say that I am in quite the position to do so," he addedwith a boastful flourish.
"Glad to hear it," I said shortly. And in my heart of hearts I didrejoice, for I had an acute realization of what this man's heritage inlife might have been had Francis Graeme and I never met. Somehow thewhole atmosphere of our foregathering had suddenly lightened, and Iexperienced a feeling of hospitality toward Thaneford which wascertainly cordial and almost friendly. "By the way, have you dined?" Iasked. "The cook has gone home, but I dare say Effingham could find somecold meat and a salad."
"I had supper at the hotel in Calverton, but a drop or two of whiskeywouldn't go amiss. The prohibition lid is clamped down pretty tightaround here."
I rang for Effingham. "Bring a bottle of 'King William,'" I ordered. "Orperhaps you would prefer rye or bourbon?"
"Scotch suits me right enough," he answered carelessly. He rose andbegan pacing the room. "I heard something in Calverton about yourclosing up the library," he said abruptly.
"It was Mrs. Hildebrand's wish. You can understand that Miss Trevor'sdeath was a great shock to her."
Not a muscle in his face moved, but he stopped short in his tracks."Eunice dead!" he ejaculated. "When and where?"
"In June two years ago. She was found dead, sitting in the library."
John Thaneford drew a long breath. "I wondered that her letters ceasedso suddenly," he said coolly. "But Eunice was always doing something outof the common, and I laid it to some queer slant in her mind. You nevercan tell what a woman will do or won't do."
The callous selfishness of the man was still rampant, and it disgustedme. Doubtless, he had no idea that I was well aware of the relationsthat had existed between him and the unfortunate girl. And then, to myastonishment, a new note of softness, of regret even, stole into hisvoice. "Do you mind opening up the room?" he asked. "So much forremembrance," he added in an undertone that I barely caught.
This time my promise to Betty did occur to my mind, but already thecovenant had been broken, and further infraction could not greatlysignify.
We walked down the corridor, and I unlocked the door and pushed it open,calling to the house-boy to bring in a lamp.
"So you've cleaned everything out," remarked Thaneford, as he glancedaround. "That is, about everything but the big teak desk, the leatherscreen, and the swivel-chair."
"The desk was too cumbersome for use in the other room," I answered. "Asfor the chair you see it is riveted down into the floor--not evenscrewed in the ordinary way. I fancy it would be a job to get it free."
"And no object either. Poor Eunice, you say, died here?"
"Sitting in that very chair."
"Like Francis Graeme before her," mused Thaneford.
"Yes, and before him four other men, all masters of 'HildebrandHundred'--Yardley, and Randall, and Horace, and Richard. But perhaps youknow these things even better than I do."
"Evidently a seat perilous," he said sardonically. "No wonder you do notchoose to occupy it."
I don't know what mad, foolish impulse moved me to go and sit down inthe big, swivel-chair, but there I presently found myself, my facereddening a trifle under the quizzical stare of John Thaneford's dull,black eyes. Effingham entered with the whiskey and glasses, and I badehim put the tray on the desk and fetch a chair for Mr. Thaneford.
"Good medicine!" approved my guest as he tossed off his glass. There wasa plate of biscuit at his elbow; he took one of the little roundcrackers and bit into it; then, with a smothered ejaculation, he spewedforth the half masticated fragments. I looked my natural surprise.
"I never could abide those damned saltines," he explained, with a touchof his old glowering sulkiness. "I'll drink with you, Cousin Hugh, tillthe swallows homeward fly, but I'll not taste your salt; I reserve theright to withdraw the flag of truce without notice."
Well, I should have had warning a-plenty by this time, but it was all tono purpose; I had the full realization that I was treading a dangerouspath, and yet it was not in my conscious power to take one single steptoward safety. Call it fatalism if you will, or the pure recklessnessengendered by the growing conviction that Betty was lost to me for goodand all; whatever the secret springs of my present course of action,the outcome inevitably must have been the same; a Scotchman would havesaid that I was fey. And perhaps I was.
I never had been what you call a drinking man, but to-night I wasmatching glass for glass with "Black Jack" Thaneford, who could put anyman, yes any three men in King William County, under the table. Thenight came on apace, and twice Effingham had been ordered to bring inanother supply of spirits. Suddenly John Thaneford broke away from thetrivial subjects which we had been discussing.
"Some two years ago, Cousin Hugh," he began, "I gave you a choice--Betty
Graeme or the 'Hundred.' Do you remember?"
"I remember," I answered steadily.
"But you would not make it; you took them both."
"What right had you to force such an issue?" I demanded hotly.
"That is beside the point. I did force it."
"Well?"
"I'll give you the final opportunity."
"Possibly, you have forgotten that Betty is now my wife?"
"I have not forgotten it."
"And as for the 'Hundred'----"
"The 'Hundred,'" he repeated, a dull, red flush dyeing his highforehead.
"There is another interest now besides my own that I am bound toprotect; I have a son."
"Ah, I had not heard. Of course that does make a difference."
"All the difference. See here, Thaneford," I went on impulsively, "Idon't want to play an ungenerous part, and I can see something of yourside of the case. I am prepared to make some provision, indeed an ampleone; but the 'Hundred' must remain where it is."
"And that is your last word?" he queried almost indifferently.
"My last word," I answered, looking him straight in the eye.
"Then we know where we are," he responded. "The bottle stands with you,Cousin Hugh."
We renewed our potations, but thenceforth in silence; for the space ofan hour and more not another word passed between us.
And the silence was an hostile one, the quiet of watchful and eternalenmity. I know that I hated John Thaneford and that he hated me;moreover, this condition could never change or alter until the end oftime itself. Well, anything was better than the false cordiality ofconventional speech; at least we knew where we stood. And still our grimwassail went on.
* * * * *
I can't recall falling to sleep in the great chair, but now, with asudden, painful start, I awoke to realize that it was broaddaylight--Friday, the twenty-second of June. My head was achingfrightfully, and my arms and legs seemed singularly cramped andconstricted. Then I came face to face with the ugly fact that I wasbound fast in my chair by stout cords that secured my shoulders, wrists,and ankles; I could move my head a trifle to one side or the other andthat was all.
John Thaneford sat opposite me, smoking a cigarette and looking asthough he had remained entirely unaffected by the amount of liquor hehad consumed. Seeing that I was awake he rose, came over to where I sat,and examined carefully the various ligatures that constrained mymovements. Not a word was uttered on either side, and indeed there wasno need for any speech between us. Doubtless I should be informed in duetime of whatever fate might be in store for me; and, for the present, Icould only wait with what show of patience it were possible to muster.
A discreet knock sounded on the closed door leading to the corridor.Thaneford snapped back the locking-bolt and stepped across thethreshold; I realized that Effingham was standing there, but the leatherscreen prevented my seeing him, and of course it hid, in turn, mymortifying predicament. Now I might have called out, shouted for help,raised the very roof in indignant protest at the humiliation to which Ihad been subjected. And yet I did none of these obvious things, and Ithink John Thaneford was shrewd enough to know that my tongue would beheld out of very shame; otherwise, he would have taken the precaution toslip a gag into my mouth.
I heard Thaneford tell Effingham, speaking of course in my name, tobring a large pot of black coffee and a plate of crackers. "The unsaltedkind," he added, as though actuated by an afterthought whosesignificance became instantly clear to my own mind. "Or better yet," hecontinued, "some of those big, round biscuits that they call 'pilotbread.' No, Mr. Hildebrand doesn't care for any tea this morning--what'sthat! a telegram? Then why the devil didn't you say so! Give it here,and mind you hurry up that coffee--hot and black, and strong as sheol."
The door swung to, and I could hear Effingham's carpet slippers paddingsoftly away. Too late now, I regretted that I had not given the alarm.Even if Thaneford had used violent means to silence Effingham my voicewould have rung all through the lower part of the house, prompting somesort of inquiry and a probable rescue. But that chance was gone.
Thaneford returned to my immediate vicinity, the buff telegram envelopein his hand. I could see that it was addressed to me, but he broke theseal without even the pretense of hesitation, and glanced over themessage. His lips curled into a genial sneer (if one can imagine such acombination); then he deliberately held up the sheet for me to read.
_If indeed you still care for me, don't enter library again under anyconsideration or for any purpose. Coming._
The message was signed with my dear girl's initials, and it was plainthat it had been written under stress of emotion. In spite of myequivocal position (for really I could not bring myself to believe thatJohn Thaneford intended actual personal violence), and the extremediscomfort of being trussed up like a hog going to the slaughter pen, Iwas conscious that, after all these months of alienation, somemysterious barrier had fallen and the long misunderstanding was in afair way of being cleared up. And so, although my temples were thumpinglike a steam engine and the pain in my arms and legs was deadening to aterrifying numbness, my spirits rebounded to an extravagant height; myheart sang again.
"If you still care for me!" And then that wonderful word: "Coming." Iwas wildly, deliriously happy, for now everything must come right. Whata fool I had been through all these doleful months! how wholeheartedlywould I make my confession; how tender and generous would be myabsolution--but a sudden realization of things as they really werechecked, like a cold douche, my satisfying glow of well-being. If dangeractually existed for me within the library walls I was ill prepared tomeet it, sitting fast bound in my chair with "Black Jack" Thanefordopposite me, an evil smile upon his lips and the glint of a spark in thedead blackness of his half-closed eyes.
And then, of a sudden, I became horribly afraid. Not of John Thaneford,for all that he hated me and had me in his power, but of the Terror,unknown, unseen, and unheard, that lurked within the circle of thesewalls; whose coming none could foresee and none prevent; for whoseappearance the ultimate stage had been set and the final watch posted.
Remember, I had nothing tangible upon which to base even a fragment oftheory, and all of our original clues had proved worthless. Here wereneither dim, midnight spaces, nor hollow walls, nor underlying abysses.Just a big, almost empty room, devoid of alcoves and odd corners, andwithal flooded with the sunshine of a perfect June day. The only featureout of the common was the secret outlet behind the chimney-breast, andsome time ago I had replaced the original lock by one of the latest,burglar proof pattern. There were only two keys, one on my own bunch andthe other in Betty's possession; certainly the peril was not likely toappear in that quarter; that would have been too obvious, evenamateurish.
The morning dragged on. When Marcus knocked at the door, seekingadmission to carry in the breakfast tray, he was roughly ordered to setit down on the threshold and take himself off. Thaneford, waiting untilthe house-boy was well out of hearing, unlocked the door and carried inthe tray for himself; evidently, he did not intend to give me a secondopportunity to send out any S. O. S. calls. With the massive door oncemore _in situ_ I might halloo and shout until I burst my bellows,without anyone being the wiser.
Thaneford, in quick succession, drank two big cups of the coffee. Hedid not go through the form of offering me a taste of the beverage, andmuch as I longed for its comforting ministrations, I was hardly ready toask the boon of my jailor. Effingham must have been unable to find anyof the unsalted pilot bread, for he had provided, in its stead, severalrounds of buttered toast and a dish of scrambled eggs. But Thanefordwould have none of these forbidden viands. Strange! that he should balkupon the purely academic question of a few grains of salt. But we allenjoy our pet inconsistencies. So he finished the pot of coffee and fellto smoking again, while I continued to speculate, a little grimly, uponthe chances of ever getting clear of this infernal coil. Apparently,there was nothing for either of us to do but to go on wai
ting, waiting.
The hours dragged along and now it was hard upon high noon, as I couldsee by Thaneford's gold repeater that lay on the desk between us; withan indescribable thrill I realized that he, too, was watching the minutehand as it slowly traveled upward to the sign of the Roman numerals,XII. Unquestionably, some fateful moment was approaching, and yet therewas nothing in the physical surroundings to give rise to uneasinesseven, let alone apprehension; nothing unless it were the occasionalrumble of distant thunder, a sullen drone underneath the pleasant songof the birds and the cheerful humming of bees among the rose bushes.
Through the painted window, depicting the flight of the Hebrew spies,the sunshine poured in full volume, the white light transformed togorgeous color by the medium through which it passed. One broad bar layclose at hand upon the oaken floor, a riotous splash of red from Rahab'sscarlet cord intermingled with purple blotches from the circular bossesthat simulated the huge grapes of the Promised Land: I watched thevariegated band of color as it crept slowly toward my chair; at present,it lay to the right, but as the sun approached the zenith it swungaround, little by little, so as to finally bring my person into thesphere of its influence; now a piercing purple beam struck me directlyin the face and I blinked; an instant later and the dazzle had passedbeyond; again I saw clearly.
Thaneford had risen, his teeth clenched upon his lower lip, a half crychoking in his throat. Together our eyes fastened on the dial of hiswatch, where the hands now pointed to eight minutes after twelveo'clock. With one convulsive movement he snatched up the time-piece,and dashed it in golden ruin to the floor; then he sprang toward me, andI knew in another moment those strong hands, with their black-tuftedknuckles, would be gripping at my throat.
But that moment never came. On he leaped, lunging straight through thecolored stream of sunlight. And then a purple flash seemed to strikefair on his black-shocked head; he reeled and fell. Down at my feet herolled, his limbs twitching in the death throe; simultaneously came atremendous crash of thunder, echoing and re-echoing from the strainingand cracking walls, while the blazing band of gold and purple andscarlet went out like the flame of a wind-blown candle. I looked up tosee Betty's pale face framed in the archway of the secret passage behindthe chimney-breast; back of her stood Chalmers Warriner.
Betty had an automatic pistol in her hand, and she kept it trained onthe motionless, sprawling figure at my feet. She must have realized thatthe precaution was unnecessary, but it was all part of the preconceivedplan, and she could not have borne to have stood idly by.
Warriner now entered the room, but he did not come directly toward me;on the contrary, he kept close to the wall until he had arrived at apoint diagonally behind my chair; then he made his dash, and I couldfeel my bonds falling apart under the keen edge of the hunting knifethat he carried. "Can you walk?" he asked. "Wait and I'll help you."
He dragged me to my feet, and I stumbled back to the wall, holding ontohis arm; now the room was in almost complete darkness save for therecurrent flashes of steel-blue radiance from the incessant electricaldischarges; the rolling thunder drowned out any further exchange ofspeech.
Together we crept toward the secret entrance, still hugging the line andangles of the wall. Betty's arms drew me into the sheltering warmth ofher breast; now the floor rocked beneath our feet as the lightning boltsheared through the doomed roof, and the great painted window of theIsraelitish spies, bending inward under the pressure of the on-rushingwind, crashed into multitudinous, iridescent ruin, obliterating in itsfall the white, twisted face of the man who had been John Thaneford.
* * * * *
At last we were in the open, shaken and trembling, drenched to the skinby the descending floods, but safe; we pulled up short and looked back.
The library wing was in flames which seemed to blaze the more fiercelyunder the lash of the down-slanting rain. But it might still be possibleto save the main house, and I ran to the fire alarm, the familiar rusticapparatus of a great, iron ring suspended from a stout framework; andmade it give furious tongue, swinging the heavy hammer until my armsseemed ready to pull away from their sockets. But help was at hand, Zackand Zeb at the head of a body of field hands; and with them theold-fashioned hand-pumping fire engine which had been preparing itselffor just such an emergency through a full century of watchful waiting.
Our domestic fire brigade had been well drilled, and the immediatedanger was soon past; finally we succeeded in getting the blaze in thelibrary wing under control. The interior had been entirely gutted, andthe roof had fallen in. But the walls remained standing, and,apparently, they had suffered but little damage.
The storm was over and once again the sun was shining. Innumerablebrilliants flashed on the smooth emerald of the lawns, the leaves of thelindens were rustling softly, and a Baltimore oriole, gorgeous in hisorange and black livery, returned scornful challenge to a blue jay'schattering abuse. I might have deemed it but the awakening from a horridnightmare, were it not for the incredible fact that Betty's hand layclose in mine and Chalmers Warriner was asking me for a cigarette.
Whereupon I distinguished myself by crumpling down at Betty's feet;somebody drew the cap of darkness over my eyes.