The House of Whispers Part 13

"I know all that, dad," persisted the girl; "but I'm interested in this extraordinary story of the Whispers. You, as an antiquary, have, no doubt, investigated all the legendary lore connected with Glencardine.

The people declare that the Whispers are heard, and, I am told, believe some extraordinary theory regarding them."

"A theory!" he exclaimed quickly. "What theory? What has been discovered?"

"Nothing, as far as I know."

"No, and nothing ever will be discovered," he said.

"Why not, dad?" she asked. "Do you deny that strange noises are heard there when there is so much evidence in the affirmative?"

"I really don't know, my dear. I've never had the pleasure of hearing them myself, though I've been told of them ever since I bought the place."

"But there is a legend which is supposed to account for them, is there not, dad? Do tell me what you know," she urged. "I'm so very much interested in the old place and its bygone history."

"The less you know concerning the Whispers the better, my dear," he replied abruptly.

Her father's ominous words surprised her. Did he, too, believe in the fatal omen, though he was trying to mislead her and poke fun at the local superst.i.tion?

"But why shouldn't I know?" she protested. "This is the first time, dad, that you've tried to withhold from me any antiquarian knowledge that you possess. Besides, the story of Glencardine and its lords is intensely fascinating to me."

"So might be the Whispers, if ever you had the misfortune to hear them."

"Misfortune!" she gasped, turning pale. "Why do you say misfortune?"

But he laughed a strange, hollow laugh, and, endeavouring to turn his seriousness into humour, said, "Well, they might give you a turn, perhaps. They would make me start, I feel sure. From what I've been told, they seem to come from nowhere. It is practically an unseen spectre who has the rather unusual gift of speech."

It was on the tip of her tongue to explain how, on the previous night, she had actually listened to the Whispers. But she refrained. She recognised that, though he would not admit it, he was nevertheless superst.i.tious of ill results following the hearing of those weird whisperings. So she made eager pretence of wishing to know the historical facts of the incident referred to by the gamekeeper.

"No," exclaimed the blind man softly but firmly, taking her hand and stroking her arm tenderly, as was his habit when he wished to persuade her. "No, Gabrielle dear," he said; "we will change the subject now. Do not bother your head about absurd country legends of that sort. There are so many concerning Glencardine and its lords that a whole volume might be filled with them."

"But I want to know all about this particular one, dad," she said.

"From me you will never know, my dear," was his answer, as his gray, serious face was upturned to hers. "You have never heard the Whispers, and I sincerely hope that you never will."

CHAPTER XIII

WHAT FLOCKART FORESAW

The following afternoon was glaring and breathless. Gabrielle had taken Stokes, with May Spencer (a girl friend visiting her mother), and driven the "sixteen" over to Connachan with a message from her mother--an invitation to Lady Murie and her party to luncheon and tennis on the following day. It was three o'clock, the hour when silence is upon a summer house-party in the country. Beneath the blazing sun Glencardine lay amid its rose-gardens, its cut beech-hedges, and its bowers of greenery. The palpitating heat was terrible--the hottest day that summer.

At the end of the long, handsome drawing-room, with its pale blue carpet and silk-covered furniture, Lady Heyburn was lolling lazily in her chair near the wide, bright steel grate, with her inseparable friend, James Flockart, standing before her.

The striped blinds outside the three long, open windows subdued the sun-glare, yet the very odour of the cut flowers in the room seemed oppressive, while without could be heard the busy hum of insect life.

The Baronet's handsome wife looked cool and comfortable in her gown of white embroidered muslin, her head thrown back upon the silken cushion, and her eyes raised to those of the man, who was idly smoking a cigarette, at her side.

"The thing grows more and more inexplicable," he was saying to her in a low, strained voice. "All the inquiries I've caused to be made in London and in Paris have led to a negative result."

"We shall only know the truth when we get a peep of those papers in Henry's safe, my dear friend," was the woman's reply.

"And that's a pretty difficult job. You don't know where the old fellow keeps the key?"

"I only wish I did. Gabrielle knows, no doubt."

"Then you ought to compel her to divulge," he urged. "Once we get hold of that key for half-an-hour, we could learn a lot."

"A lot that would be useful to you, eh?" remarked the woman, with a meaning smile.

"And to you also," he said. "Couldn't we somehow watch and see where he hides the safe-key? He never has it upon him, you say."

"It isn't on his bunch."

"Then he must have a hiding-place for it, or it may be on his watch-chain," remarked the man decisively. "Get rid of all the guests as quickly as you can, Winnie. While they're about there's always a danger of eavesdroppers and of watchers."

"I've already announced that I'm going up to Inverness next week, so within the next day or two our friends will all leave."

"Good! Then the ground will be cleared for action," he remarked, blowing a cloud of smoke from his lips. "What's your decision regarding the girl?"

"The same as yours."

"But she hates me, you know," laughed the man in gray flannel.

"Yes; but she fears you at the same time, and with her you can do more by fear than by love."

"True. But she's got a spirit of her own, recollect."

"That must be broken."

"And what about Walter?"

"Oh, as soon as he finds out the truth he'll drop her, never fear. He's already rather fond of that tall, dark girl of Dundas's. You saw her at the ball. You recollect her?"

Flockart grunted. He was a.s.sisting this woman at his side to play a desperate game. This was not, however, the first occasion on which they had acted in conjunction in matters that were not altogether honourable.

There had never been any question of affection between them. The pair regarded each other from a purely business standpoint. People might gossip as much as ever they liked; but the two always congratulated themselves that they had never committed the supreme folly of falling in love with each other. The woman had married Sir Henry merely in order to obtain money and position; and this man Flockart, who for years had been her most intimate a.s.sociate, had ever remained behind her, to advise and to help her.

Perhaps had the Baronet not been afflicted he would have disapproved of this constant companionship, for he would, no doubt, have overheard in society certain t.i.ttle-tattle which, though utterly unfounded, would not have been exactly pleasant. But as he was blind and never went into society, he remained in blissful ignorance, wrapped up in his mysterious "business" and his hobbies.

Gabrielle, on her return from school, had at first accepted Flockart as her friend. It was he who took her for walks, who taught her to cast a fly, to shoot rooks, and to play the national winter game of Scotland--curling. He had in the first few months of her return home done everything in his power to attract the young girl's friendship, while at the same time her ladyship showed herself extraordinarily well disposed towards her.

Within a year, however, by reason of various remarks made by people in her presence, and on account of the cold disdain with which Lady Heyburn treated her afflicted father, vague suspicions were aroused within her, suspicions which gradually grew to hatred, until she clung to her father, and, as his eyes and ears, took up a position of open defiance towards her mother and her adventurous friend.

The situation each day grew more and more strained. Lady Heyburn was, even though of humble origin, a woman of unusual intelligence. In various quarters she had been snubbed and ridiculed, but she gradually managed in every case to get the better of her enemies. Many a man and many a woman had had bitter cause to repent their enmity towards her.

They marvelled how their secrets became known to her.

They did not know the power behind her--the sinister power of that ingenious and unscrupulous man, James Flockart--the man who made it his business to know other people's secrets. Though for years he had been seized with a desire to get at the bottom of Sir Henry's private affairs, he had never succeeded. The old Baronet was essentially a recluse; he kept himself so much to himself, and was so careful that no eyes save those of his daughter should see the mysterious doc.u.ments which came to him so regularly by registered post, that all Flockart's efforts and those of Lady Heyburn had been futile.