CHAPTER XVIII
THE OLD GRAVEYARD
"What do you mean?" asked Don Juan.
The old man glanced at me quickly, an anxious look in his eyes.
I looked him straight in the face in return.
"Don Juan," I replied, "Dolores and I love one another."
The anxious look faded into one of softness, and he commenced walkingbackwards and forwards in the room, without answering me.
Presently he stopped and faced me again, and in his old eyes, whichwere blue like his daughter's, there were tears.
"I will not conceal from you, Anstruther," he began, "the fact thatyour affection for Dolores has been apparent to me for some time past,and has given me cause for much thought. Not that I have distrustedyou, remember," he added with a kind glance.
"I am not often deceived in a man, and I think I could trust my childto you." I gave a great gasp of pleasure, but he added immediately,"under certain circumstances."
"And those circumstances?" I asked anxiously.
"First," he began as he sank into an arm-chair, "you are of differentreligions; you are not a Catholic, I understand."
I answered him smiling.
"I don't think we shall disagree over that," I replied, "Dolores andher children shall worship the Almighty as she wishes. My religion isthat of a man of the world, I worship with all."
The old man nodded his grey head and smiled.
"I did not expect you to be very bigoted," he answered quietly.
"Now, there is another point, Don Juan," I continued, "upon which Imust satisfy you, and that is my ability to keep a wife."
I told him of my little estate in Hampshire with its small manor houseon the shores of the Solent, and how I had let it to a yachting man whohad taken a fancy to it; it being too large for my modest bachelorwants. I told him proudly of my balance at the bank, swelled by thethousand of the old lady of Monmouth Street, of which he already knew.I told him what my income was from every source, and finally what Isucceeded in wringing annually from the publishing body. This lastitem seemed to amuse him mightily, despite his polite effort to listento me with becoming solemnity.
"Very good, very good, Anstruther," he said at last encouragingly, "Isee you are quite capable of maintaining a wife in a modest way. It isvery creditable to you, too, that you have taken to making money byyour pen. With regard to Dolores, however, should she become yourwife, she is not likely to be a burden to you financially. She will,in the first place, become entitled on her marriage to an income offifty thousand dollars, which arises from property which I settled uponher mother.
"Then, she is my only child as you know, and I shall make a furthersettlement upon her. My income has been accumulating for years, I wantbut little; when I die she and her children will have _all_."
The amount he mentioned certainly took my breath away, but I raised myhand and asked him to stop.
"Believe me, Don Juan," I said, "I should be a happier man if I couldsupply her wants by the work of my hands."
"I _do_ believe you," he answered, "and those would be my ownsentiments exactly under similar circumstances. You will, however, notfind a good income a bar to marital happiness if used judiciously. Butenough of financial matters; I wish to come to another more importantpoint. I believe it that Dolores loves you; from my own observations Ibelieve she does, but I must hear it from her own lips.
"Should it prove to be the case, which I do not doubt, then I will givemy consent to your marriage."
I rushed forward joyfully to thank him, for I knew what Dolores' answerwould be, but he held up his finger to check me.
"I will give my consent under those circumstances," he continued, "on_one_ condition."
"And that?" I asked eagerly.
He did not answer me at once; he sat in his chair, with his hand to hisforehead, thinking.
Then he lifted his head.
"Sit down and listen to me, Anstruther," he said; "I want you to followexactly what I say.
"When you arrived in Valoro six weeks ago, and gave me that casket, youreopened an episode in my life closed many many years ago."
He spoke with great emotion and his lip trembled. I even saw a tearcoursing down his sunburnt cheek.
"Since then," he continued, "you have very kindly followed me in thefulfilment of certain duties which devolved upon me upon opening thatpacket. You have followed me without question, as became a gentleman,taking an old man's word that all was well. In keeping that silence ofdelicacy, Anstruther, you have unwittingly done me a great service; youhave left me unhampered to fulfil that which I had to do."
He paused and placed his fingers together in deep thought.
"I place myself mentally," he continued, "in your position, and I tryto think as you think--try to realise your feelings: the appeal youreceived from the old lady as she stood at the door of the house inMonmouth Street, your acceding to her request, your second visit, thediscovery of the tragedy, the undeserved misfortunes that fell upon youin consequence, your fidelity to your promise to the lady who was atbest a mere chance acquaintance, the impenetrable mystery whichsurrounds it all.
"I have thought of it, and I feel that you must be consumed with agreat and reasonable curiosity.
"That you have not indulged that reasonable curiosity, that you havemaintained a discreet silence under very trying circumstances hascaused a very good first impression of you to grow into one of respectand strong regard."
He rose and took my hand in both his, the tears running down his cheeks.
"Anstruther," he continued, mastering his emotion with an effort, "I amgoing to ask a further sacrifice from you as a condition of my consentto your marriage with Dolores--a very necessary condition, or I wouldnot make it.
"Anstruther, I ask you to keep eternal silence on what has occurred toyou since you entered the door of the house in Monmouth Street, thatdull evening in November. I ask you never to refer to it again fromthis moment, in any shape or form.
"Tell me, can you make this promise?"
I stood with my hand in his, my eyes fixed on his kind old face workingwith emotion.
"And this is the final condition you ask," I replied, "to my union withDolores? You are satisfied in every other way?"
"I am satisfied," he replied; "I ask no more."
"Then I give you my promise," I replied, gripping his hand hard; "thesubject to me shall be dead. God help me to keep my word!"
* * * * *
My future father-in-law and I sat chatting an hour longer over thebright fire in the sitting-room while the gloaming of a February daywas deepening without, and he had talked to me with the familiarityaccorded to one already admitted to his family circle.
Dolores had gone to a concert at the Assembly Rooms and we did notexpect her back until between five and six.
It was when we had both paused in our conversation and sat with oureyes fixed on the leaping flames--the only illumination of theroom--that a knock came at the door and a waiter entered.
"A gentleman to see you, sir," he said, addressing Don Juan.
"Who is it?" d'Alta asked.
"I think it is one of the police officers, sir," replied the man; "hegave the name of Bull."
"Ah! it's the inspector, evidently," commented the Don. "Show him up.I wonder whatever Inspector Bull can want," he continued, turning tome; "we only left him an hour or two ago."
The inspector came to answer for himself. The waiter threw open thedoor and he entered.
I saw at once that he had something of importance to communicate. Hisdemeanour was that of the Duke of Wellington on the morning of Waterloo.
"Certain information of importance," he commenced, after we had greetedhim, "having come to 'and this afternoon, sir, I thought it well tocome round and see you immediate."
The inspector's eyes wandered round the apartment. There was asideboard certainly; previous experience on former visits had, however,taught him to expect nothi
ng from it. The foreign Don was evidently anadvocate of temperance, like so many other foreigners who could notdrink good, honest English beer--well seasoned with noxious chemicals.
"Indeed," commented Don Juan, who had received several of thesemysterious visits before, and did not on that account expect much fromthis one. "What have you discovered?"
"It 'pears," continued the police officer, "that just after dinnerto-day some children was playing in the little disused graveyard in therear of 190 Monmouth Street."
From being a listless listener I became an earnest one immediately; anidea concerning that graveyard had crossed my mind that very morningwhile I contemplated its dismal gravestones, almost hidden in old rankgrass, through the open ironwork forming the upper part of the gatewhich shut it off from the little strip of sloping garden in rear of190 Monmouth Street. In my walk backwards and forwards, while I waitedfor Don Juan and the lawyer, Mr. Fowler, during their examination ofthe safe, I had come back to that iron grating again and again. It hadsomehow fascinated me.
"These 'ere children," proceeded the inspector, "was playing round thegravestones, and jumpin' over 'em to keep warm. It was while they werejumpin' and shovin' each other about over the graves that they noticedthat the top stone of a great flat old grave was loose, and, of course,they started to make it looser by see-sawing it, until one fat boyjumped it a bit too 'eavy, and it tilted and let him in."
"In where?" I asked quickly.
"Into a new-made grave, sir," he answered solemnly--"a grave what hadbeen dug recently under the old stone."
"Whatever for?" asked Don Juan.
"That's just where it is," replied the officer; "that's just what wewant to find out. The grave is about half filled in with loose earth.We want to know what's under that loose earth, and that's why I'm here."
"What have we got to do with it?" asked the Don.
"The theory is, sir," replied Bull, "that _something_ is buried underthat loose earth. It may be stolen property. It may be a _body_."
I think both Don Juan and I whitened at the prospect disclosed by theinspector, but the Don soon recovered himself. He did not seem soaffected by it as I imagined he would be.
"What do you propose to do?" he asked.
"We propose," answered the inspector, "to at once have the loose earthcleared out and see what's underneath."
"Do you mean now?" I asked. "Why, it is quite dark."
"We mean to put two workmen on to dig out that earth at once, sir, andI want you and this gentleman, sir," he added, with a bow to the Don,"to come and be present. _There might be something to identify_."
"Identify!" I exclaimed, rather horrified at the prospect; "what couldwe identify in the dark?"
"There'll be plenty of light, sir," answered Bull. "We shall bringhalf a dozen lanterns; besides, the moon will be up in half an hour'stime."
I looked at Don Juan.
"Do you intend to go?" I asked.
The old man sprang to his feet.
"Though I believe the search may be a fruitless one," he answered, "Iwill miss no opportunity. I will certainly accompany the inspector."
The latter at once rose to his feet with a look of satisfaction on hislarge face.
"I thought you would, sir," he answered, with a broad smile; "but Ishould advise you, sir, if I might be so bold, to _wrop_ up well, asthe job may be a longish one, and them graveyards is very damp."
Don Juan rang the bell for his valet to fetch him a fur-lined overcoat,and I told the waiter to tell my man Brooks to bring mine.
At my suggestion, the Don ordered some liquid refreshment for theinspector. Scotch, cold, proved to be his selection, and he stoodimbibing it, while we waited, commenting upon its excellent qualitiesfor "keeping out the cold," a theory which I have since learned istotally erroneous.
Presently the coats came, and we followed the inspector down to thedoor of the hotel, where a closed fly was already awaiting us. Wedrove away through the brilliantly lighted city to the neighbourhood oflong, dismal Monmouth Street on the hillside, but this time we did notdrive down the street itself but took a turning which ran below it.
"The gate of the old burial ground," explained the police officer, "isin this street. It will be far more convenient to enter it this waythan by going round by Monmouth Street."
At the old-fashioned, sunken iron gateway of the dreary looking,neglected graveyard a policeman was standing, apparently keeping guard.
He might have saved himself the trouble, for, with the exception of twopoor-looking little children--one standing with his mouth open and aforgotten hoop and stick in his hand--the place was deserted.
We received the constable's salute and, passing through the rusty irongate which he held open for us, came at once among the long wet grassand sunken, often lopsided, tombs. On the farther side of the groundanother constable stood with a lighted lantern, and near him twolabouring men, with spades and picks leaning against an old stone bythem. These latter hastily put out their pipes as we approached.
I was curious to see what sort of tomb this was which had beenapparently so desecrated, and followed the inspector towards it at hisinvitation.
"This is the grave I told you about, gentlemen," he said, indicating itwith his finger; "you will see they have lifted the top stone off."
It was a very large tomb of the description called "altar tombs," butthe flat stone which covered it lay by its side, and the rotten stateof the low brickwork which had supported it accounted for its givingway, even with the boy's weight.
The inspector took a lantern and held it inside the broken brickwork;yes, there could be no doubt the grave had been disturbed, and thatrecently.
Freshly turned earth lay between the walls of brickwork, which werespacious enough to allow of an ordinary-sized grave being dug withinthem.
"Is the grave just as it was found?" I asked.
"Exactly, Mr. Anstruther," he answered. "The earth has not beendisturbed at all. But I think we'll make a start now. Here comes Dr.Burbridge, the officer of health. We thought it better to have himpresent."
The figure of a man wearing a tall hat now appeared crossing thegraveyard, preceded by a constable bearing a lantern.
After briefly introducing the newcomer, the inspector gave the word tothe two labourers, and they scrambled inside the broken brickwork andcommenced digging.
I looked round the weird spot as the noise of their spades becamemonotonous, relieved only by the throwing aside of the great lumps ofmoist earth; a mist was rising from the river flowing near, of which inthe first stillness of our coming I could just catch the ripple of thewater. It seemed to me that those who were long buried there had inlife perhaps had some association with the river--even an affection forit--and had wished to be laid there near its soft murmur while theyslept.
The men dug on and the pile of earth they threw up grew and grew; itwas very clear that the old ground had been recently broken, and a newgrave carefully shaped out of it. The sides were compact and firm andhad not been disturbed, perhaps, for a whole century.
I glanced at the stone which had been removed, thinking, perhaps, thatit might give me a clue to the date of the grave, but, alas, time andthe weather had rotted the soft stone and it had come off in layers.The face of the stone was a blank, and the names of those who laybeneath lost for ever.
The moon had risen and the men had dug down perhaps four feet, butnothing had come to light. Then, as they were proceeding after a briefhalt, one of them gave a cry.
"There's something here, marster!" he cried excitedly.
At the sound of his voice all the lanterns were brought to the edge ofthe grave, and we looked down into the hole, which the bright moonbeamsdid not reach. It was illuminated solely by the dull yellow light ofone candle-lantern by which the men worked. The two diggers hadwithdrawn themselves, half scared, to the sides of the hole, and werelooking down fearsomely at _something_ at their feet. It appeared thatthey were afraid of treading upon th
is something; at first I could nottell what they were looking at, but presently my eyes became accustomedto the gloom. It was a dark patch protruding from the ground.
"What is it?" I asked the men, as we all hung over the edge of thebrickwork.
The nearest man turned a white face up to mine and answered me.
"It's a human 'ead, sir," he said.
I think we all drew back again as he said this, and the doctor steppedforward with a flask in his hand.
"If you will take my advice, gentlemen," he said, addressing Don Juanand me, "you will have a nip of this old brandy before we go anyfurther in this matter. Then I think you had better let me give theinstructions to these workmen, Mr. Inspector, or they may do somedamage unintentionally."
Don Juan touched me on the arm. His hand trembled fearfully.
"Let us come away and walk a little," he said; "the strain of thisaffair is too much for me."
I took his arm and walked away with him towards the gate, where nowquite a little crowd had assembled, attracted by the lanterns round thegrave.
Knowing the Don's fondness for smoking and its soothing effect uponhim, I handed him my cigar case, and he took a cigar and lit it. Thereseemed to be something in the aroma of the fine Havannahs as I lit one,too, that dispelled the lurking mouldiness of the old burial ground.
"But for those children playing around that tomb this afternoon,"remarked d'Alta, "this body might have lain there undiscovered foryears. It was a cunning mind which thought of using an old grave as areceptacle for a fresh body."
We strolled backwards and forwards on the grass-grown pathway, and Ikept the old gentleman as far as I could from the open grave. Thevoice of the doctor giving directions and the muffled answers of themen working in the excavation came to us occasionally.
Presently, as we turned in one of our walks, I saw the labourers hadcome out of the grave and were hauling at something, assisted by thetwo policemen.
As I checked the Don in our walk, and looked on, a white mass wasraised from the opening and laid by the doctor's direction on anadjacent flat tomb.
I shuddered as I saw the whiteness of it in the moonlight, and mythoughts reverted to the blood-stained figure of the old lady which Ihad last seen lying on her bed in the house in Monmouth Street.
The workmen went down into the grave again, and Inspector Bull cametowards us.
"Will you kindly step over this way for a few moments, Mr. Anstruther?"he asked. "I want to see if you can recognise the body which has beenbrought to the surface."
I let go the arm of Don Juan which I had been holding, and with asickening feeling at my heart followed Inspector Bull. He led metowards the object lying on the old moss-grown tomb, and I could notsummon the words to ask him who it was. There was a strongpresentiment in my mind that I should look upon the dead face of theold lady at whose wish I had crossed the Atlantic.
We came to the body, over which a piece of sacking had been thrown, andthis the inspector drew back, while one of the policemen held a lantern.
In its yellow light mingled with the clear moonbeams, I looked upon theface, and my heart gave a great leap of thankfulness. The face wasperfectly fresh and recognisable. It was not the face of the old ladywhich I had feared to see, but that of a man with a coal-black beard,which seemed very familiar to me.
I had scarcely looked upon it when a cry came from the grave where themen were working, and they threw up a white bundle, evidently a bundleof linen.
This the inspector quickly opened, and displayed a heap of bedclothingand a pillow all stained with blood.
"Is that all?" asked the inspector, as the men jumped out of the hole.
"Yes, marster," the man replied, knocking the clay off his boots,"there's naught there now but the coffin of the old 'un, well-nighmoulderin' away, and the plate says he was one o' the old Mayors o'Bath."
I turned again to the exhumed body, and the recognition of it came tome in a flash.
_It was the dark German who had helped to strap me in the chair inCruft's Folly, when Saumarez was going to torture me_.