Chapter Six.
The Black Curtain
Moore listened in almost breathless silence, only interrupted now and then by muttered ejaculations, and when I had finished he looked up, his eyes sparkling, and said solemnly —
“It’s as good as a haunted house any day, Reggie. I never heard such a jolly mystery. Close at hand too! I do wish I had been with you the day you got inside. I fancy I can see you and Isabel scuttering off like two frightened rabbits,” and here he broke out laughing.
This I did not altogether approve of.
“If you treat it in that way,” I said severely, “I shall wish I had not told you anything about it. It is no laughing matter, that I can see. It is terribly sad to think of these poor people being forced, or thinking they are forced, to lead such a life. I should be so glad to find out any way of helping them.”
My tone sobered the boy, but he did not pretend to be influenced by any such high motives as those which I persuaded myself actuated me, far more than idle curiosity.
“I don’t see that you or any stranger could possibly be of the least use to them,” he said. “All the same I’d give anything to find out about it, and I don’t see but what we might make some investigations without doing any one any harm. You are plucky enough for anything – not like Isabel; and just supposing, Reggie, that there is somebody shut up there that no one has ever seen; that man you met might be a kind of a keeper.”
“He was a gentleman,” I replied.
“He might have been some sort of a doctor,” said Moore consideringly.
“And don’t think for a moment,” I said, without noticing his last remark, “that they are the kind of people to do anything wicked or cruel. They are the sufferers themselves, of that I am certain.”
“I’ll have a good look at them in church next Sunday,” he replied. “I do remember noticing them in their big square pew, and thinking they looked gloomy and queer, but I could not see them very well from where I sat. Have you been back to the door in the wall again to see if it is still open?”
I shook my head.
“No,” I replied, “I have kept quite out of the way of it since Isabel got so frightened. Indeed I have not spoken to her about it for some time, and I have often thought how much I should like to tell you about it; I knew you’d be so interested. Only, Moore – remember what you have promised,” I added impressively.
“Of course I shall,” he replied. “You’ve never known me break my word, now, have you, Reggie?”
“No,” I allowed.
“And I’m not going to do such a thing this time,” he continued. “Besides, it would be a mean sort of trick to start anything on my own account, and keep you out of the fun.”
“It is not fun I am thinking of,” I replied, with some indignation.
“Oh well, you know what I mean. You’d like awfully to find out what is at the bottom of it all, and so would I. We needn’t say more than that. I don’t suppose we shall find out anything, but the mere idea of it is so interesting. I wonder what the house is like inside. Are the windows barred, do you know?”
“Not that I have seen,” I replied. “Certainly not on the side where Isabel and I were. And you can see for yourself that there’s nothing of the kind on this side,” for, as I said, we were standing on the hilly ground from which two sides of the Grim House were fairly well within view. “No, Moore, I don’t believe in your theory of some one being shut up there. It would have come out to a certainty through the servants. I told you they have no old servants of their own; they just get them in the neighbourhood like other people.”
Moore whistled softly and swung his legs about. When I said we were “standing,” I should rather have said “sitting,” he on the top of a high gate, the entrance to a sloping field, I on the lower step of a stile at one side. I detected a note of incredulity in his manner.
“No,” I repeated, “I am certain there is no one shut up there – not even a – ”
“What?”
“Oh I don’t know – a tiger, or a pet boa constrictor, as there was in a story I read the other day,” I said carelessly. “Anything you like. No, there is nothing in that idea, Moore.”
“Well,” he replied, “we shall see, or very likely we shall not see. But at worst I’m determined to have a go at finding out something before I leave Millflowers, and of course you will help me, Reggie. You see I can’t do anything on my own account because of my promise to you.”
I trusted him, yet I felt uneasy, and almost began to regret my confidences. He would certainly not mean to break his word, but still – he might be sorely tempted, and he was only a boy. If, for instance, he was passing the door in the wall and found it ajar, what boy nature could resist, like Bluebeard’s wife, peeping in; and once within the enchanted precincts! No, I had myself to thank for it; I had laid the train, and I must see to the consequences.
“There is really nothing to do,” I began, trying, now that it was too late, to wet-blanket the boy’s curiosity.
“There’s lots to find out,” he interrupted. “You have been thinking and wondering ever so much about it yourself. You know you have. And if I keep my promise, as of course I shall, you mustn’t fight off poking about a bit, to see what we can see. We needn’t get into mischief or bother anybody. Isabel and her father need never know we go near the place. I should never do anything half as risky as you and she did the other day.”
“What is it you want to do?” I asked, with a curious mixture of feelings. I was afraid, though I scarcely knew what I was afraid of, and yet in a sense pleased to be, as it were, forced into prosecuting some investigation into the mystery which had so fascinated my imagination.
Moore did not at once reply. At some risk to his equilibrium, he managed to raise himself to a standing position on one of the higher bars of the gate, and gazed before him intently. Of course I did not need to be told in what direction he was gazing.
“It seems to me,” he said at last, “so far as I can understand from your description the spot where the door is – it seems to me that if we got in by it, we could creep round to the front of the house – I mean to a part from where we could have a good view of the front, and see the windows and anything there is to be seen – behind the bushes, without coming out into the open at all. That would be grand, wouldn’t it, Reggie?”
My first impulse was to exclaim delightedly in agreement, but there came misgivings again. I had not, so far, contemplated anything so audacious. Still, Moore, as he turned towards me interrogatively, must have seen the gleam in my eyes. He was as sharp as a needle.
“Oh,” I replied, “that would really be trespass. We must not do as much as that – just supposing we were seen? What could we say for ourselves?”
“Just supposing we are not seen,” he said with boyish pertness. “Nonsense, Reggie – trust me for that.”
“Or if there are dogs about,” I went on.
“You’d have seen them, or they would have scented you that other day to a certainty. Besides, if there were, dogs always like me. I can always smooth them down,” which was true enough. I had seen it tested more than once. Moore was one of those persons naturally gifted with a curious power over animals. “I don’t say,” he continued, evidently anxious to impress me with his caution and sobriety of judgment, “that I’d care to tackle a bloodhound or even a mastiff. But it’s most unlikely that they have any fellows of the kind about the place. It would be known.”
This too was a reasonable presumption. Still I shook my head.
“All the same, we shall be doing a thing we have no right to be doing,” I persisted.
Moore shrugged his shoulders.
“If you go at it like that, there are a good many things we’d better not do,” he said. “We’ve no right to pick mushrooms in old Porson’s fields at home, but no one has ever found fault with us for it.”
“Oh, that’s quite different,” I replied. “However,” for I was anxious to drop the subject as far as possible, knowing by experience that once Moore got into an argument it was not easy to dislodge him without giving in entirely, “the first thing to be done is to look for the door in the wall, for if it is locked, there’s an end to everything,” though as I said the words, Jocelyn’s ominous prediction, “he’d be scaling the walls and goodness only knows what,” returned to my memory. “That was a stupid speech of mine,” I said to myself. “Just the thing to start him on some wild scheme.”
And I now began to hope fervently, from the side of expediency as well as of curiosity, that the door should not be locked.
Moore took no apparent notice of my last remark, but after events proved that he had not only heard, but thoroughly digested it.
We had no opportunity of prosecuting our researches that day or the next. For “to-morrow” turned out an appallingly wet day – so drivingly rainy and wretched, that even Moore’s ardour was damped, and he stayed indoors contentedly enough. I did not know how he was amusing himself, but he told me afterwards that he had been making a “plan” of Grimsthorpe House, or rather of its position and grounds so far as he had been able to get them into his head from his own observations and my descriptions. He had also made preparations for the adventure he was determined not to be balked of, in other ways. He stuffed his pockets with strong cord, an old geological hammer and chisel of Mr Wynyard’s, which he had found in a drawer and taken possession of with Isabel’s leave, a feather and small bottle of oil, and all the unused keys he could lay hands on, and, last not least, in spite of his contempt for my suggestion, a large piece of dog-biscuit, to be on the safe side in case of canine opposition to our visit.
And the next afternoon I found myself “in” for it. There was no evasion of my promise even had I heartily wished to get out of it.
It was not very early when we set off, as I had in the first place been for a drive with Isabel, the doctor having given leave for this as soon as the weather grew milder, and to-day had turned out peculiarly fine after the storms of yesterday.
Moore was waiting for me when we came in.
“I want Reggie to go a little walk with me,” he said, half apologetically, to Isabel. “She wasn’t out all yesterday, and she’ll be getting too fat if she doesn’t have exercise.”
Isabel laughed. At that stage in my career there seemed little likelihood of the danger he alluded to. For strong and wiry as I was, I was decidedly thin.
“Don’t be late for tea,” she said, as we turned away; but Moore called back —
“Don’t expect us till half-past five; it is more than four already. It doesn’t matter about tea.”
“Speak for yourself,” I said to him when we were out of hearing. “I do mind about tea, and I don’t suppose you’ve got a private invitation from the Greys to have it with them.”
“Who knows!” said Moore jokingly. “Perhaps they’ll fall in love with us at first sight and ask us to go in.”
Even though I knew he was joking, what he said startled me. I stopped short in the path and turned round, facing him.
“Don’t talk nonsense,” I said warningly.
“Who began it?” he replied. “I was only following up what you said.”
“Well, but seriously,” I resumed. “I hope you are not in a wild humour, Moore, meaning to do anything reckless?”
“Of course not,” he said reassuringly. “To-day I mean to do nothing whatever but spy the ground. But do let us walk faster. How far have we to go?”
“Not above half a mile or so to where the wall begins,” I replied. “And then, oh! it can’t be above a few hundred yards to the place where the door is, only if we are to find it we must walk slowly when we get near there.”
The road looked almost more lonely to-day than when I had been there before. There was not the slightest sign of life or movement as far as we could see beyond us.
“I could believe that no one had passed this way for weeks,” I said to Moore. “Did you ever see such a lonely place?”
“That is probably why they have made the door on this side,” he replied. “I dare say they come out at night, and walk up and down like ghosts!”
“I’m sure they don’t,” I answered, “and they didn’t make the door. It’s as old as the wall itself, as you can see by the ivy. Now don’t talk any more; I want to give all my attention to looking for it.”
And in a minute or two I exclaimed triumphantly; “Here it is, and – yes – still unlocked!”
It must have called for some self-restraint on Moore’s part not to shout “hurrah!” but we were well on our guard. We pushed the door open and entered cautiously, drawing it to behind us. We were well sheltered, as I have said, by the bushes skirting the wall. I crept along a few yards in the same direction as I had done the last time, my brother closely following me. Then we stopped, and I whispered to him that I thought it would be safe to peep out a little. He did so, keeping still well in the shade of the heavy clumps of evergreens farther inside the grounds. Then, after reconnoitring, he beckoned to me to come on.
“There isn’t a creature about,” he said, “and we can’t be seen from the windows at this side. You needn’t be so dreadfully frightened, Reggie.”
“Oh, but it was just like this the last time,” I whispered, “when all of a sudden we heard the cripple brother coming. No, Moore, I won’t go farther in!”
“Well, stay where you are for a bit,” he replied. “I want to get a thoroughly good idea of the lie of the place;” and he certainly seemed to be doing his best to obtain this, his curly head bobbing backwards and forwards in all directions, while I stood on guard, tremulously listening for the slightest sound, extremely frightened, extremely interested, and intensely excited.
When Moore was satisfied that there was no more to be done from his present post of observation, we crept back again to the neighbourhood of the door. I flattered myself that he was now ready to go home, but I was mistaken.
“Now,” he said, “I am going to explore for myself. You and Isabel didn’t try the other side – to the left, I mean.”
“O Moore,” I exclaimed, “that is towards the front of the house!”
“I know that,” he answered; “but that’s just why I want to go that way. It’s perfectly safe if we keep pretty near the wall;” and my curiosity surmounting my fears, I in my turn followed him for some little way. Then an unexpected thing happened! Suddenly, on our right hand, the border of bushes opened out into a sort of trellised passage, between trees, what in France is called a tonnelle, and at its end we perceived a glazed door, evidently leading into a conservatory.
I started back in affright, exclaiming, though in a whisper —
“I believe that leads straight into the house!”
“All the better,” was Moore’s unsympathising reply; “all the better if it does! I had no hope of such a find as this. Come along, Reggie, keep well to one side, and then no one could see us unless they were actually at the door looking out for us, which is not likely to be the case.”
But now I stood firm.
“I won’t come a step farther,” I said positively.
“Well, stay where you are,” said my brother, “though I do think you’re a goose, after having come so far, to stop short at the jolliest point! I’m going on.”
I caught hold of him. He was so excited by this time, though cool enough outwardly, that I was terrified of any war of words ensuing, the sound of which might have attracted attention at the house, so perfectly still and silent was everything about us.
“If – ” I began, “if you will promise me, vow to me, that you will come back in five minutes, I’ll make my way to the door again, and wait there for you.”
“All right,” was the reply; “I promise,” and we separated, he creeping along as nimbly as a cat, while I retreated tremulously, looking over my shoulder every now and then as I did so, for as long as I could keep the boy in sight.
These five minutes – and I really don’t think he exceeded them – seemed to me hours. My relief was indescribable when I heard his softly-uttered “Reggie,” as he returned to me.
“Well?” I said interrogatively. “Was it worth the risk? I know I’ve been shaking here as if I had the palsy. I couldn’t have stood it much longer.”
“Worth the risk?” he repeated, cavalierly ignoring the mention of my tremors. “I should rather think so! Wait till we get outside, and then I’ll tell you what I saw.”
And in another moment, outside and in safety, we found ourselves carefully closing the door so that its unfastened condition should not attract attention, as Isabel and I had done on our first visit.
“What did you see?” I inquired at once. “None of the inhabitants, I suppose?”
“No,” was the reply, “but traces of them. That glass door, Reggie, is the entrance to a long, narrow conservatory, which opens right into the house at the other end. It isn’t much as far as plants go, just a lot of ferns and green things at one side, but there’s a broad sort of walk, and I saw a pipe or two lying on a little table, and some books and seats. There was one long deck-chair kind of thing, belonging to the cripple brother most likely. Evidently it’s a place that they keep for smoking and sitting in. I got close up to the other end and peeped in.”
“O Moore!” I exclaimed, interested but horrified, “supposing you had been seen!”
“But I wasn’t,” he answered in his most matter-of-fact way. “There was nobody about, even in the room I peeped into – I couldn’t make out if it was a sitting-room or a bedroom. It was dark and dullish-looking, as I think all the house must be; the windows are so narrow.”
“Perhaps it’s the cripple brother’s room,” I suggested; “bedroom and sitting-room in one, as he probably finds it difficult to go up and down stairs.”
Moore seemed struck by my acuteness.
“Yes,” he said. “I expect it is. It had the look of it.”
“Well?” I continued, surprised at the silence which ensued, “go on!” for he seemed to be thinking deeply.
“What do you mean?” he replied. ”‘Go on’ about what?”
“All that you saw, of course,” I answered impatiently. “Don’t begin thinking about it till you have told me the whole! Then we can discuss it together.”
He looked up in surprise.
“There isn’t any more to tell,” he said. “I was only thinking to myself how queer it is altogether.”
I gave a little laugh, half derisively.
“Why, that’s what everybody thinks,” I said, “who knows anything about it. There’s nothing original in that.”
“I didn’t suppose there was,” said Moore, beginning to get cross.
I was feeling cross too. I think one often does after any unusual strain or excitement, especially when it ends in nothing, as our present adventure now seemed to do.
“I thought,” I continued unwisely, “that you had made some wonderful discovery, or at least that you thought yourself on the road to one, and now it has all ended in smoke!”
My tone must have been very provoking, but Moore was a queer boy in some ways. His irritation seemed to have disappeared.
“There is a certain proverb,” he said oracularly, “which your words remind me of. ‘There is no smoke without fire.’ What do you say to that? – Eh? – I beg your pardon. What did you remark?”
I had not remarked anything. I suppose I had muttered something inarticulate in my irritation.
“Don’t be nonsensical,” I said sharply. “You needn’t begin hinting, with nothing to hint about!”
Moore was gazing in front of him, and when he spoke again I was really at a loss to tell whether he was in earnest or not.
“There was one thing I have not told you of,” he said. “In one corner of the room there was a heavy, long black curtain —black,” he repeated impressively. “It cut off that corner of the room as it were. There may be a door behind it leading to a staircase; there may be – a skeleton for all I know, or – goodness knows what!”
“Rubbish!” I exclaimed this time. “You are drawing on your imagination just to keep up the farce! I don’t believe you even saw the curtain!” He faced round on me.
“Reggie!” he exclaimed, “I did see a curtain, word of honour.”
“Naturally,” I replied, “most windows have curtains. You know what I mean. I don’t believe you saw any unusual kind of curtain, or that it was black.”
“I swear to you it was black, and a very unusual kind of curtain.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me of it before?” I inquired. “It may have looked black because the room was dark.”
“I was thinking about it,” he answered.
“You weren’t,” I retorted. “You only remembered about it when I said you had made no discoveries. If you had thought it was really mysterious you would have mentioned it straight off. Now do let us drop the whole thing, I’m getting tired of it.”
In my heart I was disappointed. I had had in reality, in spite of my warnings to him, some hopes that Moore’s rashness would at least have led to something in the way of discovery. And by this time I had succeeded in making him angry.
“You will see,” he muttered, and then as I ran off without waiting to hear more – “you will see,” he called after me loudly, “if it is true that I can find out nothing. I am not such a fool as you think!”
But I still ran on, half laughing to myself at his boyish indignation, and heedless of his mysterious hints. Somehow, my own curiosity and interest in the Grim House mystery had diminished as Moore’s increased. “Le jeu ne vaut pas la chandelle!” I thought to myself. “It is, anyway, not worth running the risk of getting into any disagreeables, and no doubt Mr Wynyard would be very annoyed if he knew where we had been this evening.”
What a truism is the old saying, that “nothing is certain except the unforeseen,” and yet how constantly one feels inclined to quote it to oneself even in everyday life! Two most unforeseen circumstances occurred during the first three weeks of my stay at Millflowers – Moore’s joining me there, and now a sudden summons to Mr Wynyard and Isabel to go to Mr Percy’s for some days.
I am not perfectly clear in my memory as to the reason of it. As far as I can recall, the cause was the sudden arrival of some important member of the family from a distance. However that may have been, the fact was that our host and his daughter were practically forced to go. They were very sorry. Mr Wynyard full of apologies, declaring that his sense of hospitality was outraged by this unfortunate necessity. But they were both very thankful that my young brother was with me, otherwise, Isabel declared, that they could not have left me alone, and it might have ended in my visit being curtailed.