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Mystery of the Ravenspurs

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[Pg 86] <h2>CHAPTER XVI THE WHITE FLOWERS</h2> Surely enough, when Ralph Ravenspur came into the great hall, where tea was being served, he was wearing a pair of dark glasses, with gold rims. Slight as the alteration was in itself, it changed him almost beyond recognition. He had been doing something to his face also, for the disfiguring scar had practically disappeared. As he came feeling his way to a chair, the slight thread of conversation snapped altogether. "Don't mind me," he said quietly. "You will get used to the change, and you cannot deny it is a change for the better. One of the causes leading to this vanity was a remark I overheard on the part of one of the servants. She expressed the opinion that I should look better in glasses. That opinion I shared. I have no doubt the maid was correct." All this was uttered in the dry, soft, caustic manner Ralph constantly affected. Nobody answered, mostly because it was assumed that no reply was expected. With a cup of tea in his hand Ralph began to speak of other things. Leading from the hall was a big conservatory. Here Marion was busy among her flowers. She was singing gently as she snipped a bud here and there, and Vera was helping her. Curled up in a leisure chair, Geoffrey was absorbed in a book. The smoke from his cigarette circled round his head. Ralph placed his cup down again and felt his way into the conservatory. He stood in the doorway listening to the controversy going on beyond. [Pg 87] "I don't fancy I shall like it," said Vera. "It will be too cold, too funereal." "My dear child," Marion cried, "then we will abandon the idea. Only don't forget that it was your own suggestion. You said it would look chaste." "Did I really! Then I had forgotten about it. And we are not going to abandon the idea. It shall not be said that I change my mind like a weathercock. The flowers on the dinner table to-night are all going to be white." Marion paused in the act of cutting a lily. "I don't fancy I would," she urged. "After all, second thoughts are best. White flowers on a table do suggest a funeral, that is if they are all white. And in an unfortunate house like this anything melancholy is to be discouraged. I think I will throw these blooms away——" "You will do nothing of the kind," Vera cried. "White it shall be, and you and I shall arrange them in the best possible style. Why, you have enough already. Come along and we'll 'fix' up the table at once. Uncle Ralph, how you startled me." "Did I?" Ralph said coolly. "I fancy it is my mission in life to startle people. What have you two been quarreling about?" "We were not quarreling," Vera replied. "Marion insists that white flowers on a dinner-table are cold and chilly, not to say funereal. I say they are chaste and elegant. And, to prove that I am right, the table to-night will be decorated with white flowers." "Not with my consent," Marion laughed. "I have set my face dead against the whole business. But spoilt Vera always gets her own way." Vera smiled as she passed on with an armful of the nodding white flowers. Ralph passed slowly into the conservatory and closed the stained-glass door behind him. Then he crossed the tiled floor rapidly as if his eyes were all that could be desired, and slipped up a glass[Pg 88] panel at the far end of the conservatory. From this point there was a sheer fall down the cliffs on to a hard sandy beach below. "Just the same," Ralph muttered. "Nothing altered. And just as easy." He crossed the tiles again and passed into the great stone flagged hall in his slow way. Then he proceeded to light his pipe and strolled into the grounds. Past the terrace he went until he came to the cliffs where he was out of sight of the house. Then with the confidence of the mountain goat he made his way to the beach, the hard strip of beach that lay under the shadow of the castle. Here he fumbled for some time among the damp slippery rocks, feeling for something with infinite care and patience. His perseverance was rewarded at last. His hands lay on a mass of flowers, damp and sodden and yet comparatively fresh. He lifted one to his nostrils and sniffed it. "As I thought," he said, "as I expected. How cunning it all is, how beautifully worked out! And nothing, however small, is left to chance. Well, I came home in the nick of time, and I have found an ally I can depend upon. Only it was just as well not to let Geoffrey know that I knew of Jessop's lodger before to-day. I wonder if my lady guesses how carefully she is being watched." Half an hour later Ralph was in the castle again, wandering about in his restless way and appearing to be interested in nothing, as usual. Presently the great bell began to clang in the turret, and the family partly gathered in the dining room before dinner. Vera was the last to arrive. "How lovely you look," Geoffrey whispered. Vera laughed and colored. She had a white dress without ornament and without flowers, save a deep red rose in her hair. "That red rose is the crowning touch," said Geoffrey. [Pg 89] "I thought it was to be all white to-night," Ralph said. He had caught the whispered words, as he seemed to catch everything. "Was that not so, Vera?" "Not for me, sir," Vera replied. "I am in white." "I wish you could see her," Geoffrey said tenderly, "she looks lovely. Her eyes are so blue, her skin is like the sunny side of a peach." "And your tongue is like that of a goose," Vera laughed. "Never mind, Uncle Ralph. Never mind. If you can't have the inestimable advantage of gazing on my perfect beauty, you shall have the privilege of sitting by me at dinner." Geoffrey pleaded with comic despair, but Vera was obdurate. As the bell clanged again, she laid a hand light as thistledown on Ralph's arm. She was brighter and more gay than usual this evening and Marion played up to her, as she always did. The elders were silent. Perhaps the white flowers on the table checked them. They were so suggestive of the wreaths on a coffin. When once the cloth was drawn in the good old-fashioned way, and the decanters and lamps and glasses stood mirrored in the shining dark mahogany, the resemblance was more marked than ever. The long strip of white damask, whereon lamps and flowers and decanters rested, might have been a winding sheet. Rupert Ravenspur protested moodily. "It's dreadful in a house like this," he said. "Who did it?" "I am the culprit, dearest," Vera admitted prettily. "Marion did all in her power to prevent me, but I would have my own foolish way. If you will forgive me I will promise that it shall not occur again." Rupert Ravenspur smiled. It was only when he was looking at Vera that the tender relaxation came over his stern old face. Then his eyes fixed on the flowers and they seemed to draw him forward. "You are forgiven," he said. "Marion was right, as[Pg 90] she always is. What should we do without your cheerfulness and good advice? Upon my word I feel as if those flowers were drawing all the reason out of me." Nobody replied. It was a strange and curious thing that everybody seemed to be regarding the waxen blossoms in the same dull, sleepy, fascinating way. All eyes were turned upon them as eyes are turned upon some thrilling, repulsive performance. The silence was growing oppressive and painful. Geoffrey gave a little gasp and laid his hand upon his chest. "What is it?" he said. "There is a pain here like a knife. I am burning." Nobody took the faintest notice. Only Ralph seemed to be alive, and yet there was no kind of expression on his face. Heads were drawing nearer and nearer to the vases where the graceful flowers were grouped—those innocent looking blooms which were the emblems of all that was fair and fine and beautiful. What did it mean, what strange mystery was here? Nobody could speak, nobody wanted to speak; all were sinking, lulled and soothed into a poppyland sleep, even Geoffrey who seemed to be fighting for something he knew not what. Then Ralph reached out his hand to the foot of the table. His long, lean fingers were tangled in the strip of damask down the mahogany table on which lamps and decanters and glasses and dishes of fruit were placed. With a vigorous pull he brought the whole thing crashing on the polished floor, where two pools of paraffin made a blaze of the wreck that Ralph had caused. Then he slid over the floor and opened one of the windows, letting in the pure air fresh from the North Sea. <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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