The Red Window Part 18

Lucy nodded. "Yes! let all things remain as they were," she said.

Mrs. Gilroy made a stiff curtsey and returned to the other servants, who then filed in an orderly manner out of the room. The relatives also took their leave, amongst them Julius, now smiling. At the door Lucy said something to him about Bernard. He smiled darkly.

"We have yet to prove that Bernard is alive," he said.

"Danger!" thought Miss Berengaria. "I'll watch you, young man."

CHAPTER IX

AT COVE CASTLE

Five miles from Hurseton the marshes began and did not end until they touched the coast. There were acres of mud and reeds and succulent gra.s.ses, interspersed with narrow waterways. In rainy weather this low-lying land--if it could be called so--almost disappeared under water, and in summer the poisonous mora.s.s exhaled white mists which caused fever and ague. The people who dwelt on the border of the slough of despond were rarely healthy, but they were attached to the dismal neighborhood and refused to move to higher ground where they would have enjoyed better health. What was good enough for their fathers was good enough for them, was the argument upon which they based their refusal.

The road from Hurseton changed where the marshes began to a causeway and ran solid and high across the treacherous bog towards the coast. Here it took a sudden turn, and pa.s.sed through several fishing villages on its way to Market-on-Sea. And thence between hedges it pa.s.sed onward to London, a road once more. Some distance from the curve an arm of the causeway ran for a quarter of a mile to Cove Castle, which was built on a firm and elevated spot of ground, near a kind of estuary which communicated with the sea. The sea itself was only distant half a mile, and a fine view of it could be obtained from the castle. Why the building should be called by so high-sounding a name, it is hard to say.

It was simply a large stone house of two story, with a kind of tower at one end. Formerly, in the reign of Elizabeth, it had been a fort, and afterwards, falling into decay, had been used by smugglers for the storing of contraband goods. In the reign of George III., the then Lord Conniston being disgusted with life, and anxious to isolate himself from the gay world, in which he had glittered to the detriment of his purse and health, had bought the property and there had lived and died. At that time the family possessed several seats and a town house. But the Georgian Conniston preferred this unhealthy neighborhood, as least likely to attract his former friends. So no one visited him, and he lived and died a recluse. Afterwards the castle was deserted again, the successors of this lordly hermit preferring to live in more healthy parts. But gradually the property had been sold bit by bit, until, when d.i.c.k, the present lord, inherited, nothing remained to him but Cove Castle and the few acres around. Also he possessed the family vault, which was underneath the Church of St. Agnes at the village of Benstow, three miles away. It was strange that the members of the family should have decided to be buried in this lonely place, when they could have rested in some green churchyard in the Midlands. But, seeing that Cove Castle alone remained to their descendants, it was just as well that the former holders of the t.i.tle had entertained this odd idea. The present Lord Conniston at least retained, out of the wreck of the property, the vault wherein the remains of his forebears were laid.

When Conniston arrived at the castle he was met at the door by a gigantic female of uncommon ugliness, who answered to the name of Selina Moon. She was large enough to have earned an income by exhibiting herself in a caravan, being considerably over six feet, and sufficiently ugly to shame even the witches in Macbeth. Had Mrs. Moon lived in the Middle Ages, she would a.s.suredly have been put to death for sorcery, as her looks seemed hardly human. She had the frame of a grenadier and the voice of a drill sergeant. Her face was large and round and pallid, from a long life in the midst of the marshes. A few grey hairs on her upper lip gave her a still more masculine look, and, indeed, the least observant would have taken her for a man in disguise. She wore a frilled cap, which surrounded her face like the rays of a sunflower, and wore a vivid red gown bound at the waist by a yellow scarf. Mrs. Moon loved bright colors, and apparently, if one could judge from her black eyes and beaked nose, had something of the gipsy in her. Not so far as wandering was concerned, though, for she rarely left the castle. This was because her great size, coupled with her love of finery, provoked comment from adults and insults from children whenever she ventured abroad.

This Amazonian female, from her height of six feet five, looked down on Conniston with a submissive air. She was as timid as a rabbit, the most harmless of her s.e.x, and report went, that the late Mr. Moon, who had been almost a dwarf, had frequently beaten her in spite of her superior inches. However, the old man was dead, and for many a long day Mrs. Moon had lorded it over the one servant in the castle. But she still wore her submissive air, and when her master imperiously demanded a sight of the gentleman who was expecting him, led the way at once to an upper room.

"But I wouldn't take everyone," said Mrs. Moon in a thin, high voice like the midnight wind in a chimney. "He being wishful to keep hisself quiet. What have he done, my lord?"

"Nothing," said Conniston, promptly. "He only came down here for a rest.

Do you think he has robbed the bank?"

"There's worse things than robbing banks," remarked Mrs. Moon, shaking her frilled cap portentously, "and the worse things is what he's done.

And why shouldn't he tell me his name if he was a babe for innocence?"

"Didn't he do so when he arrived?" asked Conniston, halting on the landing with an anxious look.

"No, my lord, bless your heart! he didn't," said the giantess; "and but that he had your letter, which was as plain as print----"

"And _was_ print," interpolated d.i.c.k, remembering his caligraphy adapted to the brains of Mrs. Moon.

"I shouldn't have let him in. But your lordship said he was to have the best room, and the best room he has, to say nothing of your lordship's clothes, he having arrived in tatters like a tramp, which he isn't from the princely looks of him. No one knows as he is here, he having asked me to say nothing. But Victoria----"

"What about her?" asked Conniston, rather sharply, for Victoria was a small servant, preternaturally sharp and mighty curious.

"She's allays asking questions as to what he's doing here."

"Then, don't answer her questions."

"I don't," said Mrs. Moon, plaintively, "and but that she's so strong I'd smack her hard. But only Jerry could manage her, and, bless me! your dear lordship, he's earning his bread in London, though I haven't heard of him for months."

"He's not in the place I obtained for him," said Conniston, stopping at the door of the room indicated by the housekeeper. "He's robbed the till and bolted."

Mrs. Moon was not all disturbed. "Just like his poor father, my second son," said she, shaking the frilled cap again. "He was a wonderful boy for money and never minded how he got it. Have they jailed Jerry?" she asked, with great simplicity.

Conniston could hardly help smiling at the calm way in which she took the report of her grandson's wickedness. "No, his master turned him out and gave him another chance."

"Bless and preserve your dear lordship, Jerry won't take no chance, as I always said, being advised by the cards. It's the gallers that boy will come to, and may I not be here to see him dangling at the end of a rope, much as he may deserve it. Jerry's a bad 'un, for sure, and takes after my old man's side of the family, several having been choked by the lawr for thieving and murdering and otherwise taking their enjoyment. Where is he now?"

"I don't know, Mrs. Moon. But if he comes here, don't you let him into the castle and don't you let him know that Mr.--Mr. Grant"--d.i.c.k gave Bernard a new name for the sake of concealment--"is here."

"Grant!" echoed Mrs. Moon. "But he don't look Scotch."

"Never you mind what he is. You hold your tongue and make Victoria hold hers."

"Only Jerry can manage her," said Mrs. Moon, firmly, "me not being strong enough for such a tearing cat. If your lordship would speak yourself----"

"I'll see to it," interrupted Conniston, quickly. "I'm stopping here for the night, Mrs. Moon. Can you give me and Mr.--er--Grant a good dinner?"

"I'll cook it myself, Victoria being fond of burning things and her pastery being lead for heaviness. The wine your lordship knows----"

"Is there any of that port left?"

"Plenty, save what Jerry drank, he being fond of his gla.s.s."

"What! a boy of thirteen, Mrs. Moon!" said Conniston, seriously. "If you had stifled Jerry in the mud years ago it would have been better for him and for you."

Mrs. Moon blew a gigantic sigh. "True enough, your lordship, seeing as he'll occupy a place in the Chamber of Horrors in the exhibition me and Moon saw in London. Ah, well, some of his grandfather's people were hanged and----"

Conniston waited to hear no more of this domestic Newgate's Calendar, but abruptly opened the door and entered the room.

It was a large, airy apartment, with two windows looking on to the shining expanse of the sea, and well furnished in an old-fashioned way.

In a large grate a fire of logs was briskly burning, so that the atmosphere was less damp than in the other rooms of the castle. The furniture was all of black oak, and included a square table, a comfortable sofa which was drawn up close to the fire, and several arm-chairs. Also there was a sideboard and a bookcase well supplied with volumes of works long since out of print. The hangings were of faded brocade, and the carpet was patched and mended. Here and there was valuable china and a few silver ornaments. The whole room looked comfortable and home-like, and rather quaint in its faded and mellow beauty.

"Where are you, Bernard?" asked Conniston, seeing the room was empty.

For answer a window curtain was drawn aside and Gore came out, holding the heavy steel poker. "It's only you," he said, looking very pale. "I heard voices and concealed myself behind the curtain. I expected you, but didn't know but what someone else might come. That servant suspects me."

"Not Mrs. Moon," said Conniston, pitying the haggard looks of his friend.

"No, Victoria. She is as sharp as a needle and--"

"Don't distress yourself, old boy," said d.i.c.k, taking Gore's hand and leading him to the sofa upon which he had been apparently lying until startled by the sound of voices. "Mrs. Moon can be depended upon and I'll speak to Victoria myself. You are safe here."

"Are you sure, d.i.c.k?"

"Perfectly sure. And even if you were discovered I could manage to conceal you in the vaults below the castle."

"Are there vaults?" asked the fugitive, who was shivering and pale.

"Yes! The old smugglers used them to store goods and as hiding-places.