English
Itwasaquarterpastteno’clockbytheparlourtimepiecewhenmyfatherwentofftohisroom,andleftEstherandmyselftogether.
Weheardhisslowstepsdyingawayupthecreakingstaircase,untilthedistantslammingofadoorannouncedthathehadreachedhissanctum.
Thesimpleoillampuponthetablethrewaweird,uncertainlightovertheoldroom,flickeringuponthecarvedoakpaneling,andcastingstrange,fantasticshadowsfromthehigh-elbowed,straight-backedfurniture.
Mysister’swhite,anxiousfacestoodoutintheobscuritywithastartlingexactnessofprofilelikeoneofRembrandt’sportraits.
Wesatoppositetoeachotheroneithersideofthetablewithnosoundbreakingthesilencesavethemeasuredtickingoftheclockandtheintermittentchirpingofacricketbeneaththegrate.
Therewassomethingawe-inspiringintheabsolutestillness.
Thewhistlingofabelatedpeasantuponthehighroadwasarelieftous,andwestrainedourearstocatchthelastofhisnotesasheploddedsteadilyhomewards.
Atfirstwehadmadesomepretence—sheofknittingandIofreading—butwesoonabandonedtheuselessdeception,andsatuneasilywaiting,startingandglancingateachotherwithquestioningeyeswheneverthefaggotcrackledinthefireoraratscamperedbehindthewainscot.
Therewasaheavyelectricalfeelingintheair,whichweighedusdownwithaforebodingofdisaster.
Iroseandflungthehalldooropentoadmitthefreshbreezeofthenight.
Raggedcloudssweptacrossthesky,andthemoonpeepedoutattimesbetweentheirhurryingfringes,bathingthewholecountrysideinitscold,whiteradiance.
FromwhereIstoodinthedoorwayIcouldseetheedgeoftheCloomberwood,thoughthehouseitselfwasonlyvisiblefromtherisinggroundsomelittledistanceoff.
Atmysister’ssuggestionwewalkedtogether,shewithhershawloverherhead,asfarasthesummitofthiselevation,andlookedoutinthedirectionoftheHall.
Therewasnoilluminationofthewindowstonight.
Fromrooftobasementnotalighttwinkledinanypartofthegreatbuilding.
Itshugemassloomedupdarkandsullenamidthetreeswhichsurroundedit,lookingmorelikesomegiantsarcophagusthanahumanhabitation.
Toouroverwroughtnervestherewassomethingofterrorinitsmerebulkanditssilence.
Westoodforsomelittletimepeeringatitthroughthedarkness,andthenwemadeourwaybacktotheparlouragain,wherewesatwaiting—waiting,weknewnotforwhat,andyetwithabsoluteconvictionthatsometerribleexperiencewasinstoreforus.
Itwastwelveo’clockorthereaboutwhenmysistersuddenlysprangtoherfeetandheldupherfingerstobespeakattention.
“Doyouhearnothing?”sheasked.
Istrainedmyears,butwithoutsuccess.
“Cometothedoor,”shecried,withatremblingvoice.“Nowcanyouhearanything?”
InthedeepsilenceofthenightIdistinctlyheardadull,murmuring,clatteringsound,continuousapparently,butveryfaintandlow.
“Whatisit?”Iasked,inasubduedvoice.
“It’sthesoundofamanrunningtowardsus,”sheanswered,andthen,suddenlydroppingthelastsemblanceofself-command,shefelluponherkneesbesidethetableandbeganprayingaloudwiththatfrenziedearnestnesswhichintense,overpoweringfearcanproduce,breakingoffnowandagainintohalf-hystericalwhimperings.
Icoulddistinguishthesoundclearlyenoughnowtoknowthatherquick,feminineperceptionhadnotdeceivedher,andthatitwasindeedcausedbyarunningman.
Onhecame,andondownthehighroad,hisfootfallsringingoutclearerandsharpereverymoment.Anurgentmessengerhemustbe,forheneitherpausednorslackenedhispace.
Thequick,crisprattlewaschangedsuddenlytoadull,muffledmurmur.
Hehadreachedthepointwheresandhadbeenrecentlylaiddownforahundredyardsorso.
Inafewmoments,however,hewasbackonhardgroundagainandhisflyingfeetcamenearerandevernearer.
Hemust,Ireflected,beabreastoftheheadofthelanenow.Wouldheholdon?OrwouldheturndowntoBranksome?
ThethoughthadhardlycrossedmymindwhenIheardbythedifferenceofthesoundthattherunnerhadturnedthecorner,andthathisgoalwasbeyondallquestionthelaird’shouse.
Rushingdowntothegateofthelawn,Ireacheditjustasourvisitordasheditopenandfellintomyarms.IcouldseeinthemoonlightthatitwasnoneotherthanMordauntHeatherstone.
“Whathashappened?”Icried.“Whatisamiss,Mordaunt?”
“Myfather!”hegasped—“myfather!”
Hishatwasgone,hiseyesdilatedwithterror,andhisfaceasbloodlessasthatofacorpse.Icouldfeelthatthehandswhichclaspedmyarmswerequiveringandshakingwithemotion.
“Youareexhausted,”Isaid,leadinghimintotheparlour.“Giveyourselfamoment’srestbeforeyouspeaktous.Becalm,man,youarewithyourbestfriends.”
Ilaidhimontheoldhorsehairsofa,whileEsther,whosefearshadallflowntothewindsnowthatsomethingpracticalwastobedone,dashedsomebrandyintoatumblerandbroughtittohim.
Thestimulanthadamarvelouseffectuponhim,forthecolourbegantocomebackintohispalecheeksandthelightofrecognitioninhiseyes,
HesatupandtookEsther’shandinbothofhis,likeamanwhoiswakingoutofsomebaddreamandwishestoassurehimselfthatheisreallyinsafety.
“Yourfather?”Iasked.“Whatofhim?”
“Heisgone.”
“Gone!”
“Yes;heisgone;andsoisCorporalRufusSmith.Weshallneverseteyesuponthemagain.”
“Butwherehavetheygone?”Icried.“Thisisunworthyofyou,Mordaunt.
Whatrighthavewetosithere,allowingourprivatefeelingstoovercomeus,whilethereisapossibilityofsuccouringyourfather?Up,man!Letusfollowhim.Tellmeonlywhatdirectionhetook.”
“It’snouse,”youngHeatherstoneanswered,buryinghisfaceinhishands.
“Don’treproachme,West,foryoudon’tknowallthecircumstances.
Whatcanwedotoreversethetremendousandlawswhichareactingagainstus?
Theblowhaslongbeenhangingoverus,andnowithasfallen.Godhelpus!”
“InHeaven’snametellmewhathashappened!”saidIexcitedly.“Wemustnotyieldtodespair.”
“Wecandonothinguntildaybreak,”heanswered.“Weshallthenendeavourtoobtainsometraceofthem.Itishopelessatpresent.”
“AndhowaboutGabrielandMrs.Heatherstone?”Iasked.“CanwenotbringthemdownfromtheHallatonce?Yourpoorsistermustbedistractedwithterror.”
“Sheknowsnothingofit,”Mordauntanswered.
“Shesleepsattheothersideofthehouse,andhasnotheardorseenanything.
Astomypoormother,shehasexpectedsomesucheventforsolongatimethatithasnotcomeuponherasasurprise.
Sheis,ofcourse,overwhelmedwithgrief,butwould,Ithink,prefertobelefttoherselfforthepresent.
Herfirmnessandcomposureshouldbealessontome,butIamconstitutionallyexcitable,andthiscatastrophecomingafterourlongperiodofsuspensedeprivedmeofmyveryreasonforatime.”
“Ifwecandonothinguntilthemorning,”Isaid,“youhavetimetotellusallthathasoccurred.”
“Iwilldoso,”heanswered,risingandholdinghisshakinghandstothefire.
“Youknowalreadythatwehavehadreasonforsometime—formanyyearsinfact—tofearthataterribleretributionwashangingovermyfather’sheadforacertainactionofhisearlylife.
InthisactionhewasassociatedwiththemanknownasCorporalRufusSmith,sothatthefactofthelatterfindinghiswaytomyfatherwasawarningtousthatthetimehadcome,andthatthis5thofOctober—theanniversaryofthemisdeed—wouldbethedayofitsatonement.
Itoldyouofourfearsinmyletter,and,ifIamnotmistaken,myfatheralsohadsomeconversationwithyou,John,uponthesubject.
WhenIsawyesterdaymorningthathehadhuntedouttheolduniformwhichhehadalwaysretainedsinceheworeitintheAfghanwar,Iwassurethattheendwasathand,andthatourforebodingswouldberealized.
“HeappearedtobemorecomposedintheafternoonthanIhaveseenhimforyears,andspokefreelyofhislifeinIndiaandoftheincidentsofhisyouth.
Aboutnineo’clockherequestedustogouptoourownrooms,andlockedusinthere—aprecautionwhichhefrequentlytookwhenthedarkfitwayuponhim.Itwasalwayshisendeavour,poorsoul.
tokeepusclearofthecursewhichhadfallenuponhisownunfortunatehead.
BeforepartingfromushetenderlyembracedmymotherandGabriel,andheafterwardsfollowedmetomyroom,whereheclaspedmyhandaffectionatelyandgaveintomychargeasmallpacketaddressedtoyourself.”
portraitofSirArthurConanDoyle
“Tome?”Iinterrupted.
“Toyou.IshallfulfillmycommissionwhenIhavetoldyoumystory.
Iconjuredhimtoallowmetositupwithhimandshareanydangerwhichmightarise,butheimploredmewithirresistibleearnestnessnottoaddtohistroublesbythwartinghisarrangements.
SeeingthatIwasreallydistressinghimbymypertinacity,Iatlastallowedhimtoclosethedoorandtoturnthekeyupontheoutside.
Ishallalwaysreproachmyselfformywantoffirmness.
Butwhatcanyoudowhenyourownfatherrefusesyourassistanceorco-operation?Youcannotforceyourselfuponhim.”
“Iamsurethatyoudidallyoucoulddo,”mysistersaid.
“Imeantto,dearEsther,but,Godhelpme,itwashardtotellwhatwasright.
Heleftme,andIheardhisfootstepsdieawaydownthelongcorridor.
Itwasthenaboutteno’clock,oralittleafter.
ForatimeIpacedupanddowntheroom,andthen,carryingthelamptotheheadofmybed,Ilaydownwithoutundressing,readingSt.ThomasaKempis,andprayingfrommyheartthatthenightmightpasssafelyoverus.
“IhadatlastfallenintoatroubledsleepwhenIwassuddenlyarousedbyaloud,sonoroussoundringinginmyears.
Isatupbewildered,butallwassilentagain.
Thelampwasburninglow,andmywatchshowedmethatitwasgoingontomidnight.
Iblunderedtomyfeet,andwasstrikingamatchwiththeintentionoflightingthecandles,whenthesharp,vehementcrybrokeoutagainsoloudandsoclearthatitmighthavebeenintheveryroomwithme.
Mychamberisinthefrontofthehouse,whilethoseofmymotherandsisterareattheback,sothatIamtheonlyonewhocommandsaviewoftheavenue.
“RushingtothewindowIdrewtheblindasideandlookedout.
Youknowthatthegravel-driveopensupsoastoformabroadstretchimmediatelyinfrontofthehouse.
Justinthecentreofthisclearspacetherestoodthreemenlookingupatthehouse.
“Themoonshonefulluponthem,glisteningontheirupturnedeyeballs,andbyitslightIcouldseethattheywereswarthy-facedandblack-haired,ofatypethatIwasfamiliarwithamongtheSikhsandAfridis.
Twoofthemwerethin,witheager,aestheticcountenances,whilethethirdwaskinglikeandmajestic,withanoblefigureandflowingbeard.”
“RamSingh!”Iejaculated.
“What,youknowofthem?”exclaimedMordauntingreatsurprise.“Youhavemetthem?”
“Iknowofthem.TheyareBuddhistpriests,”Ianswered,“butgoon.”
“Theystoodinaline,”hecontinued,“sweepingtheirarmsupwardsanddownwards,whiletheirlipsmovedasifrepeatingsomeprayerorincantation.
Suddenlytheyceasedtogesticulate,andbrokeoutforthethirdtimeintothewild,weird,piercingcrywhichhadrousedmefrommyslumber.
NevershallIforgetthatshrill,dreadfulsummonsswellingandreverberatingthroughthesilentnightwithanintensityofsoundwhichisstillringinginmyears.
“Asitdiedslowlyaway,therewasaraspingandcreakingasofkeysandbolts,followedbytheclangofanopeningdoorandtheclatterofhurryingfeet.
FrommywindowIsawmyfatherandCorporalRufusSmithrushfranticallyoutofthehousehatlessandunkempt,likemenwhoareobeyingasuddenandoverpoweringimpulse.
Thethreestrangerslaidnohandsonthem,butallfivesweptswiftlyawaydowntheavenueandvanishedamongthetrees.
Iampositivethatnoforcewasused,orconstraintofanyvisiblekind,andyetIamassurethatmypoorfatherandhiscompanionwerehelplessprisonersasitIbadseenthemdraggedawayinmanacles.
“Allthistooklittletimeintheacting.
FromthefirstsummonswhichdisturbedmysleeptothelastshadowyglimpsewhichIhadofthembetweenthetreetrunkscouldhardlyhaveoccupiedmorethanfiveminutesofactualtime.
Sosuddenwasit,andsostrange,thatwhenthedramawasoverandtheyweregoneIcouldhavebelievedthatitwasallsometerriblenightmare,somedelusion,hadInotfeltthattheimpressionwastooreal,toovivid,tobeimputedtofancy.
“Ithrewmywholeweightagainstmybedroomdoorinthehopeofforcingthelock.
Itstoodfirmforawhile,butIflungmyselfuponitagainandagain,untilsomethingsnappedandIfoundmyselfinthepassage.
“Myfirstthoughtwasformymother,Irushedtoherroomandturnedthekeyinherdoor.ThemomentthatIdidsoshesteppedoutintothecorridorinherdressing-gown,andheldupawarningfinger.
“‘Nonoise,shesaid,’Gabrielisasleep.Theyhavebeencalledaway?’
“‘Theyhave,’Ianswered.
“‘God’swillbedone!’shecried.‘Yourpoorfatherwillbehappierinthenextworldthanhehaseverbeeninthis.ThankHeaventhatGabrielisasleep.Igaveherchloralinhercocoa.’
“‘WhatamItodo?’Isaiddistractedly.
“‘Wherehavetheygone?HowcanIhelphim?Wecannotlethimgofromuslikethis,orleavethesementodowhattheywillwithhim.ShallIrideintoWigtownandarousethepolice?’
“‘Anythingratherthanthat’,mymothersaidearnestly.
‘Hehasbeggedmeagainandagaintoavoidit.
Myson,weshallneverseteyesuponyourfatheragain.
Youmaymarvelatmydryeyes,butityouknewasIknowthepeacewhichdeathwouldbringhim,youcouldnotfinditinyourhearttomournforhim.
Allpursuitis,Ifeel,vain,andyetsomepursuittheremustbe.Letitbeasprivateaspossible.
Wecannotservehimbetterthanbyconsultinghiswishes.’
“‘Buteveryminuteisprecious,’Icried.‘Evennowhemaybecallinguponustorescuehimfromtheclutchesofthosedark-skinnedfiends.’
“ThethoughtsomaddenedmethatIrushedoutofthehouseanddowntothehighroad,butoncethereIhadnoindicationinwhichdirectiontoturn.
Thewholewidemoorlaybeforeme,withoutasignofmovementuponitsbroadexpanse.
Ilistened,butnotasoundbroketheperfectstillnessofthenight.
“Itwasthen,mydearfriends,asIstood,notknowinginwhichdirectiontoturn,thatthehorrorandresponsibilitybrokefulluponme.
IfeltthatIwascombatingagainstforcesofwhichIknewnothing.Allwasstrangeanddarkandterrible.
“Thethoughtofyou,andofthehelpwhichImightlookforfromyouradviceandassistance,wasabeaconofhopetome.
AtBranksome,atleast,Ishouldreceivesympathy,and,aboveall,directionsastowhatIshoulddo,formymindisinsuchawhirlthatIcannottrustmyownjudgment.
Mymotherwascontenttobealone,mysisterasleep,andnoprospectofbeingabletodoanythinguntildaybreak.
UnderthosecircumstanceswhatmorenaturalthanthatIshouldflytoyouasfastasmyfeetwouldcarryme?
Youhaveaclearhead,Jack;speakout,man,andtellmewhatIshoulddo.Esther,whatshouldIdo?”
Heturnedfromonetotheotherofuswithoutstretchedhandsandeager,questioningeyes.
“Youcandonothingwhilethedarknesslasts,”Ianswered.
“WemustreportthemattertotheWigtownpolice,butweneednotsendourmessagetothemuntilweareactuallystartinguponthesearch,soastocomplywiththelawandyethaveaprivateinvestigation,asyourmotherwishes.
JohnFullarton,overthehill,hasalurcherdogwhichisasgoodasabloodhound.
Ifwesethimonthegeneral’strailhewillrunhimdownifhehadtofollowhimtoJohno’Groat’s.”
“Itisterribletowaitcalmlyherewhilehemayneedourassistance.”
“Ifearourassistancecouldunderanycircumstancesdohimlittlegood.
Thereareforcesatworkherewhicharebeyondhumanintervention.Besides,thereisnoalternative.
Wehave,apparently,nopossibleclueastothedirectionwhichtheyhavetaken,andforustowanderaimlesslyoverthemoorinthedarknesswouldbetowastethestrengthwhichmaybemoreprofitablyusedinthemorning.Itwillbedaylightbyfiveo’clock.
InanhourorsowecanwalkoverthehilltogetherandgetFullarton’sdog.”
“Anotherhour!”Mordauntgroaned,“everyminuteseemsanage.”
“Liedownonthesofaandrestyourself,”saidI.“Youcannotserveyourfatherbetterthanbylayingupallthestrengthyoucan,forwemayhaveawearytrudgebeforeus.
Butyoumentionedapacketwhichthegeneralhadintendedforme.”
“Itishere,”heanswered,drawingasmall,flatparcelfromhispocketandhandingitovertome,“youwillfind,nodoubt,thatitwillexplainallwhichhasbeensomysterious.”
Thepacketwassealedateachendwithblackwax,bearingtheimpressoftheflyinggriffin,whichIknewtobethegeneral’screst.
Itwasfurthersecuredbyabandofbroadtape,whichIcutwithmypocket-knife.
Acrosstheoutsidewaswritteninboldhandwriting:“J.FothergillWest,Esq.,”andunderneath:“TobehandedtothatgentlemanintheeventofthedisappearanceordeceaseofMajor-GeneralJ.B.Heatherstone,V.C.,C.B.,lateoftheIndianArmy.”
SoatlastIwastoknowthedarksecretwhichhadcastashadowoverourlives.HereinmyhandsIheldthesolutionofit.
WitheagerfingersIbrokethesealsandundidthewrapper.
Anoteandasmallbundleofdiscolouredpaperlaywithin.
Idrewthelampovertomeandopenedtheformer.
Itwasdatedtheprecedingafternoon,andraninthisway:
MYDEARWEST,—
Ishouldhavesatisfiedyourverynaturalcuriosityonthesubjectwhichwehavehadoccasiontotalkofmorethanonce,butIrefrainedforyourownsake.
Iknewbysadexperiencehowunsettlingandunnervingitistobeforeverwaitingforacatastrophewhichyouareconvincedmustbefall,andwhichyoucanneitheravertnoraccelerate.
Thoughitaffectsmespecially,asbeingthepersonmostconcerned,IamstillconsciousthatthenaturalsympathywhichIhaveobservedinyou,andyourregardforGabriel’sfather,wouldbothcombinetorenderyouunhappyifyouknewthehopelessnessandyetthevaguenessofthefatewhichthreatensme.
Ifearedtodisturbyourmind,andIwasthereforesilent,thoughatsomecosttomyself,formyisolationhasnotbeentheleastofthetroubleswhichhaveweighedmedown.
Manysigns,however,andchiefamongthemthepresenceoftheBuddhistsuponthecoastasdescribedbyyouthismorning,haveconvincedmethatthewearywaitingisatlastoverandthatthehourofretributionisathand.
WhyIshouldhavebeenallowedtolivenearlyfortyyearsaftermyoffenceismorethanIcanunderstand,butitispossiblethatthosewhohadcommandovermyfateknowthatsuchalifeisthegreatestofallpenaltiestome.
Neverforanhour,nightorday,havetheysufferedmetoforgetthattheyhavemarkedmedownastheirvictim.
Theiraccursedastralbellhasbeenringingmyknellfortwo-scoreyears,remindingmeeverthatthereisnospotuponearthwhereIcanhopetobeinsafety.
Oh,thepeace,theblessedpeaceofdissolution!
Comewhatmayontheothersideofthetomb,Ishallatleastbequitofthatthriceterriblesound.
Thereisnoneedformetoenterintothewretchedbusinessagain,ortodetailatanylengththeeventsofOctober5th,1841,andthevariouscircumstanceswhichleduptothedeathofGhoolabShah,thearchadept.
Ihavetornasheafofleavesfrommyoldjournal,inwhichyouwillfindabaldaccountofthematter,andanindependentnarrativewasfurnishedby.
SirEdwardElliott,oftheArtillery,totheStarofIndiasomeyearsago—inwhich,however,thenamesweresuppressed.
Ihavereasontobelievethatmanypeople,evenamongthosewhoknewIndiawell,thoughtthatSirEdwardwasromancing,andthathehadevolvedhisincidentsfromhisimagination.
ThefewfadedsheetswhichIsendyouwillshowyouthatthisisnotthecase,andthatourmenofsciencemustrecognisepowersandlawswhichcanandhavebeenusedbyman,butwhicharetoEuropeancivilization.
Idonotwishtowhineortowhimper,butIcannothelpfeelingthatIhavehadhardmeasuredealtmeinthisworld.
Iwouldnot,Godknows,takethelifeofanyman,farlessanagedone,incoldblood.
Mytemperandnature,however,werealwaysfieryandheadstrong,andinactionwhenmybloodisup,IhavenoknowledgeofwhatIamabout.
NeitherthecorporalnorIwouldhavelaidafingeruponGhoolabShahhadwenotseenthatthetribesmenwererallyingbehindhim.
Well,well,itisanoldstorynow,andthereisnoprofitindiscussingit.
Maynootherpoorfelloweverhavethesameevilfortune!
Ihavewrittenashortsupplementtothestatementscontainedinmyjournalforyourinformationandthatofanyoneelsewhomaychancetobeinterestedinthematter.
Andnow,adieu!BeagoodhusbandtoGabriel,and,ifyoursisterbebraveenoughtomarryintosuchadevil-riddenfamilyasours,byallmeansletherdoso.
Ihaveleftenoughtokeepmypoorwifeincomfort.
WhensherejoinsmeIshouldwishittobeequallydividedbetweenthechildren.IfyouhearthatIamgone,donotpity,butcongratulate
Yourunfortunatefriend,
JOHNBERTHIERHEATHERSTONE.
Ithrewasidetheletterandpickeduptherollofbluefoolscapwhichcontainedthesolutionofthemystery.
Itwasallraggedandfrayedattheinneredge,withtracesofgumandthreadstilladheringtoit,toshowthatithadbeentornoutofastronglyboundvolume.
Theinkwithwhichithadbeenwrittenwasfadedsomewhat,butacrosstheheadofthefirstpagewasinscribedinbold,clearcharacters,evidentlyoflaterdatethantherest:“JournalofLieutenantJ.B.HeatherstoneintheThullValleyduringtheautumnof1841,”andthenunderneath:
ThisextractcontainssomeaccountoftheeventsofthefirstweekofOctoberofthatyear,includingtheskirmishoftheTeradaravineandthedeathofthemanGhoolabShah.
Ihavethenarrativelyingbeforemenow,andIcopyitverbatim.
Ifitcontainssomematterwhichhasnodirectbearinguponthequestionatissue,IcanonlysaythatIthoughtitbettertopublishwhatisirrelevantthanbycuttingandclippingtolaythewholestatementopentothechargeofhavingbeentamperedwith.
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