Parlous Times Part 47

"Nothing, unless they show signs of success, and that I do not think likely. If the secret of the door has withstood the ingenuity of generations in the past, it is likely to do so in the future, unless they tried to force it, and that I think they'd hardly dare to do."

"Listen," she said. And the Secretary heard a noise of creaking, straining wood.

"They are trying to force it!" he cried, springing up and looking through the window. And she, following his lead, saw that Darcy was working with might and main with some burglar's tool after the nature of a lever. But though the old oaken door groaned in protest at such treatment, it never gave an inch, and the Colonel, removing his instrument, made a gesture of despair, and stood wiping the sweat from his brow.

"What does this all mean?" said Madame Darcy, as they slipped down again into their place of concealment.

"It means," said the Secretary shortly, "that your husband's secret instructions are behind that door, and from his eagerness to get them I should say that they contain a cipher of something that cannot be duplicated in the time at his command."

"I do not understand," she said.

"Well, if you must know the truth," he replied, "he's to take over the specie needed to defeat the treaty, and to get there in time he must sail from England in a few days."

She nodded mournfully.

"I supposed it was something like that," she said. "I knew Mr. Riddle had brought the gold. It is here."

"No," he said, "it's in the Victoria Street Branch of the Bank of England, in London."

"How was it sent up?"

"Lieutenant Kingsland took it."

"Is he a member of the conspiracy?"

"It appears so--but I am not certain. He may be an innocent dupe,"

replied the Secretary.

"And you let the specie go?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "When I discovered where they were sending the chests I helped them. It's safer in the Bank than knocking round here, and I can prevent its being drawn out any time I wish."

"By the arrest of the conspirators?" she said.

"I hope that it won't be necessary to arrest anybody," he replied.

"Then you have some plan?"

"Yes. But I'm afraid you mustn't ask me what that is. Nor must you write a word of all this to your father. But I promise you that if it's possible I'll save your husband from open disgrace, and I think it will be."

"Thank you, thank you," she murmured. "You are indeed my friend," and her hand again sought his, and he quivered under her touch.

"Listen!" she said. "They're moving."

He raised himself cautiously, and looked through the window. The attempt for that night had evidently been given up. The three conspirators shook hands, and Miss Fitzgerald and Mr. Riddle stole softly upstairs, leaving Darcy to put his tools in a bag and let himself out. This he proceeded to do in a leisurely manner. Once his companions were out of sight, he again took out the lever, and made one more attempt to open the secret door, bending all his force to the task. Madame Darcy and the Secretary watched him breathlessly, but he was again unsuccessful, and with a disgusted shrug of his shoulders he relinquished the attempt.

His attacks on the door had, however, evidently marred the wood, and he produced from his receptacle a bottle of varnish and a brush, with which he proceeded to repair the traces of the damage. The Secretary's eyes, wandering from the Colonel, suddenly lighted on the figure of his friend, Kent-Lauriston, who had evidently been awakened by the returning footsteps of Darcy's companions as they sought their bedrooms, and who was now stealing downstairs to intercept the intruder.

Before Stanley could restrain his friend, Kent-Lauriston had softly approached the rec.u.mbent figure, so softly, indeed, that the Colonel, who was intent on trying to repair the door, did not hear him, and was aware of his presence only when a stout arm encircled his neck, throwing him backwards on the floor, where he lay, with his captor's knee upon his chest.

Stanley felt the need of being present also, and exerting his strength on the sash, found, to his great satisfaction, that the butler had neglected to bolt the window. With a quiet good-night to Madame Darcy, who slipped away in the darkness, he swung himself over the sill, and landing on his feet in the hall, joined the group, nodding to his friend as he did so.

"Ah, my fine fellow. Burgling, were you?" said Kent-Lauriston to his captive.

"You're mistaken," said the Secretary, stepping quietly up. "This is not a thief; it's only Colonel Darcy, engaged, if I mistake not, in an attempt to recover his lost property."

"I beg your pardon," returned Kent-Lauriston, releasing his prostrate foe; and turning to Stanley, he continued: "Lacking the fineness of perception bred of diplomatic training, I must confess I didn't see the subtle distinction."

Darcy rose deliberately, growling a surly something, which might have been equally well an apology or an oath, and snapped to the shutter of his dark lantern.

"Yes, we shan't need that light now, thank you," said Stanley, turning on the central lamp.

"Well, what are you going to do about it?" asked the Colonel, gruffly.

The diplomat was on his best behaviour.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "Of course, we did not know you were a caller.

The ladies have retired, and I'm sure you don't want to see us; we won't detain you."

"I----" began Darcy, clenching his fist.

"Oh, I'll make your excuses to Mrs. Roberts," pursued the Secretary.

"Don't trouble about that."

"I'll be d.a.m.ned if I'll tolerate this interference," burst out the Colonel.

"I'm sure you'll be the first, and will also endure the second, my dear sir," continued Stanley in his most suave tones. "So we'll say no more about it. The _front_ door is easy to open, Colonel Darcy, as of course you know. Good-night."

CHAPTER XXVII

THE MARRIAGE REGISTER

On the morning which succeeded Stanley's midnight vigil, the Reverend Reginald Lambert was early at the little chapel, which was his great pride in life. The good old gentleman was never so happy as when he could induce any of the visitors at the Hall to give him an hour of their time to listen to his dissertations on the ecclesiastical history of the building; to examine its fragments of "dog-tooth," and discuss the meaning of that one "foliated capital," in a structure otherwise severely Saxon. He was even writing a little book on all these things; a volume which he fondly hoped might some day be given to the world. This morning, however, he must have been engaged on some work of special interest, in which he was so absorbed that time flew by unnoticed till his task was finished. He was just preparing to return to his rectory, when he received an unexpected visit from a lady, who requested permission to examine the marriage register.

The lady was a stranger to him, and was evidently of foreign extraction.

She asked to see an old volume of the records, and took the occasion, when his back was turned, to hastily glance at the last matrimonial entry, for the marriage register lay open on the table, comparing the same with a line of handwriting which she had with her, and evincing surprise as well as satisfaction at the knowledge she derived therefrom.

A moment later, when the old man returned, she was, to all appearances, absorbed in the contemplation of an extremely repellent gargoyle.

The entry she desired was not to be found, was probably in some neighbouring parish, she suggested--a fact which the narrator thinks unlikely. She nevertheless pa.s.sed a profitable hour, allowing the good parson to show her every nook and corner of his precious possession, and displaying an intelligent interest, which was as rare as it was gratifying.

But the morning had not yet revealed all its treasures to Mr. Lambert.

Scarcely had the strange lady's footsteps died away, when another visitor, a new arrival at the Hall, put in an appearance; and avowed himself such an ardent enthusiast in all matters ancient and ecclesiastical, and, moreover, substantiated his pretensions to such a degree, that the old parson declared afterwards he had never had such a morning of perfect enjoyment in his life. Kent-Lauriston, for it was none other, exerted himself to interest his _cicerone_, and succeeded admirably. He possessed that rare gift of developing any topic that might be suggested by the person to whom he was talking, of making it his own, and at the same time causing his companion to believe that he was contributing, in no small part, to the brilliancy of the conversation. So, more than an hour slipped by, and Kent-Lauriston found ample opportunity to consult the marriage register un.o.bserved, and to be much surprised at what he saw there--moreover he learned many things besides the subject of Norman decoration and Saxon construction--among the more important of which was the visit of the foreign lady, who wanted to look up old volumes of the records.

"I have the honour to be invited to dine at the Hall this evening," said Mr. Lambert, in parting with Kent-Lauriston. "I shall look forward to the pleasure of continuing our conversation."