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Secret Tomb

<h2>CHAPTER VII THE HOUR DRAWS NEAR</h2> In the flat country, in which stands Hillocks Manor, a deep gorge has been hollowed out by the river Maine. This gorge rings round the meadows and orchards and buildings of the Manor. Hillocks, humped with rocks and covered with fir-trees, rise in a semicircle at the back of the estate, and a backwater of the Maine, cutting the ring and isolating the hillocks, has formed a pleasant lake, which reflects the dark stones and red bricks and tiles of the ancient building. To-day that building is by way of being a farm. Part of the ground-floor is used for storerooms and barns, evidence of a wider cultivation, formerly flourishing, but very much fallen off since the days when Raoul's grandfather made it his business in life. The old Baron, as they called him, had a right to the title and to the apostrophe since the property, before the Revolution, formed the barony d'Avernoie. A great sportsman, a fine figure of a man, and fond of wine and women, he had very little liking for work; and his son, Raoul's father, inheriting this distaste, had in his manner of life shown an equal lack of care for the future. "I have done what I could, once I was demobilized," Raoul confided to Dorothy, "to restore prosperity here; and up-hill work it has been. But what would you? My father and my grandfather lived their lives in the assurance, which evidently sprang from those legends you have heard of: 'One of these days we shall be rich. So why worry?' And they did not worry. Actually we are in the hands of a money-lender who has bought up all our debts; and I have just heard that during my stay at Roborey my grandfather signed a bill of sale which gives that money-lender the power to turn us out of the house in six weeks." He was an excellent young fellow, a trifle slow-witted, rather awkward in manner, but of an upright disposition, serious and thoughtful. The charm of Dorothy had made an instant conquest of him, and in spite of an invincible timidity which had always prevented him from putting into words his deeper feelings, he did not hide either his admiration or the fact that she had robbed him of his peace of mind. Everything that she said charmed him. Everything that she bade him do was done. Following her advice he made no secret of the assault of which his grandfather had been the victim and lodged a complaint against this unknown criminal. To the people about him he talked openly about the fortune which he expected to come to him shortly and of the investigations on foot to discover a gold medal, the possession of which was the first condition of obtaining it. Without revealing Dorothy's name, he did not conceal the fact that she was a distant cousin, or the reasons which brought her to the Manor. Three days later, having screwed double stages out of One-eyed Magpie, Saint-Quentin arrived in company with Castor and Pollux. Dorothy would not hear of any abode but her beloved caravan, which was installed in the middle of the court-yard; and once more the five comrades settled down to their happy, careless life. Castor and Pollux fought with less vigor. Saint-Quentin fished in the lake. The captain, always immensely consequential, took the old baron under his care and related to him and to Goliath interminable yarns. As for Dorothy, she was observing. They found that she wore an air of mystery, keeping her thoughts and proceedings to herself. She spent hours playing with her comrades superintending their exercises. Then, her eyes fixed on the old baron, who, accompanied by his faithful dog, with tottering gait and dulled eyes, would go and lean against a tree in the orchard, she watched everything which might be a manifestation of instinct in him or of a survival of the past. At other times Raoul surprised her in some corner, motionless and silent. It seemed to him then as if the whole affair was confined to her brain, and that it was there, much more than on the estate of Hillocks Manor that she was looking for the guiding clue. Several days in succession she spent the hours in the loft of a granary where there were some bookshelves, and on them, old newspapers, bundles of papers, pamphlets, printed during the last century, histories of the district, communal reports, and parish records. "Well," asked Raoul, laughing. "Are we getting on? I have an impression that your eyes are beginning to see more clearly." "Perhaps. I won't say that they aren't." The eyes of Dorothy! In that combination of charming things her face, it was they above everything which held one's attention. Large, almond-shaped and lengthened in the shadow of their black lashes, they surprised one by the inconceivable diversity of their coloring and expression: of the blue which changed like the blue of the sea according to the hour and the light; of a blue which seemed to vary with the successive thoughts which changed her expression. And these eyes, so delightful that it seemed that they must always be smiling or laughing, were in moments of meditation the gravest eyes that ever were, when she half-closed and fixed them on some image in her mind. Raoul, now, only saw through them, and was only really interested in what they expressed. The fabulous story of the treasure and the medal was wholly summed up for him in the charming spectacle afforded by two beautiful eyes observant or thoughtful, troubled or joyful. And perhaps Dorothy allowed herself to be observed with a certain satisfaction. The love of this big, shy young fellow touched her by its respectfulness, she who had only known hitherto the brutal homage of desire. One day she made him take a seat in the little boat which was moored to the shore of the lake, and letting it drift with the current she said to him: "We are drawing near." "Near what?" he asked, startled. "The hour which so many things have so long foretold." "You believe?" "I believe that you made no mistake the day on which you saw in your grandfather's hands that gold medal in which all the traditions of the family seem to be summed up. Unfortunately the poor man lost his reason before you were put in possession of the facts; and the thread which bound the past to the future has been broken." "Then what do you hope for, if we do not find that medal? We've searched everywhere, his room, his clothes, the house, the orchard, and found nothing." "It is impossible that he should keep to himself forever the answer to the enigma. If his reason is dead, his instincts survive. And what an instinct that is that centuries have been forming! Doubtless he has put the coin within reach, or within sight. You may be sure that he has hidden it in such a way that no execrable piece of bad luck could rob him of it without his being aware of it. But don't worry: at the appointed hour some unconscious gesture will reveal the truth to us." Raoul objected. "But what if d'Estreicher took it from him?" "He did not. If he had, we should not have heard the noise of the struggle. Your grandfather resisted to the end; and it was only our coming which put d'Estreicher to flight." "Oh, that ruffian! If only I had him in my hands!" exclaimed Raoul. The boat was drifting gently. Dorothy said in a very low voice, barely moving her lips: "Not so loud! He can hear us." "What! What do you mean?" "I say that he is close by and that he doesn't lose a single word of what we say," she went on in the same low voice. Raoul was dumfounded. "But—but—what does it mean? Can you see him?" "No. But I can feel his presence; and he can see us." "Where from?" "From some place among the hillocks. I have been thinking that this name of Hillocks Manor pointed to some inpenetrable hiding-place, and I've discovered a proof of it in one of those old books, which actually speaks of a hiding-place where the Vendéans lay hid, and says that it is believed to be in the neighborhood of Tiffauges and Clisson." "But how should d'Estreicher have learnt of it?" "Remember that the day of the assault your grandfather was alone, or believed himself to be alone. Strolling among the hillocks, he would have disclosed one of the entrances. D'Estreicher was watching him at the time. And since then the rascal had been using it as a refuge. "Look at the ground, all humps and ravines. On the right, on the left, everywhere, there are places in the rock for observations, so to speak, from which one can hear and see everything that takes place inside the boundaries of the estate. D'Estreicher is there." "What is he doing?" "He's searching and, what's more, he is keeping an eye on my investigations. He also—for all that I can't guess exactly the reason—wants the gold medal. And he is afraid that I shall get it before him." "But we must inform the police!" "Not yet. This underground hiding-place should have several issues, some of which perhaps run under the river. If we give the ruffian warning, he will escape." "Then what's your plan?" "To get him to come out of this lair and trap him." "How?" "I'll tell you at the appointed time, and that will not be long. I repeat: the hour draws near." "What proof have you?" "This," she said. "I have seen the money-lender, Monsieur Voirin, and he showed me the bill of sale. If by five o'clock on July 31st Monsieur Voirin, who has desired all his life to acquire the Manor, has not received the sum of three hundred thousand francs in cash or government securities, the Manor becomes his property." "I know," said he. "And it will break my heart to go away from here." She protested: "There's no question of your going away from here." "Why not? There's no reason why I should become rich in a month." "Yes, there is a reason, the reason which has always sustained your grandfather, the reason which made him act as he did on this occasion, which made him say to old Voirin—I repeat the money-lender's words: 'Don't get bucked about this, Voirin. On the 31st of July I shall pay you in cash.' This is the first time that we are face to face with a precise fact. Up to now words and a confused tradition. To-day a fact. A fact which proves that, according to your grandfather all the legends which turn round these promised riches come to a head on a certain day in the month of July." The boat touched the bank. Dorothy sprang lightly ashore and cried without fear of being heard: "Raoul, to-day's the 27th of June. In a few weeks you will be rich; and I too. And d'Estreicher will be hanged high and dry as I predicted to his face." That very evening Dorothy slipped out of the Manor and furtively made her way to a lane which ran between very tall hedges. After an hour's walking she came to a little garden at the bottom of which a light was shining. Her private investigations had brought to her knowledge the name of an old lady, Juliet Assire, whom the gossip of the countryside declared to be one of the old flames of the Baron. Before his attack, the Baron paid her a visit, for all that she was deaf, in poor health, and rather feeble-witted. Moreover, thanks to the lack of discretion of the maid who looked after her and whom Saint-Quentin had questioned, Dorothy had learnt that Juliet Assire was the possessor of a medal of the kind they were searching for at the Manor. Dorothy had formed the plan of taking advantage of the maid's weekly evening out to knock at the door and question Juliet Assire. But Fortune decided otherwise. The door was not locked, and when she stepped over the threshold of the low and comfortable sitting-room, she perceived the old lady asleep in the lamplight, her head bent over the canvas which she was engaged in embroidering. "Suppose I look for it?" thought Dorothy. "What's the use of asking her questions she won't answer?" She looked round her, examined the prints hanging on the wall, the clock under its glass case, the candlesticks. Further on an inner staircase led up to the bedrooms. She was moving towards it when the door creaked. On the instant she was certain that d'Estreicher was about to appear. Had he followed her?... Had he by any chance brought her there by a combination of machinations? She was frightened and thought only of flight.... The staircase? The rooms on the first floor.... She hadn't the time! Near her was a glass door.... Doubtless it led to the kitchen.... And from there to the back door through which she could escape. She went through it and at once found out her mistake. She was in a dark closet, a cupboard rather, against the boards of which she had to flatten herself before she could get the door shut. She found herself a prisoner. At that moment the door of the room opened, very quietly. Two men came cautiously into it; and immediately one of them whispered: "The old woman's asleep." Through the glass, which was covered by a torn curtain, Dorothy easily recognized d'Estreicher, in spite of his turned-up coat-collar and the flaps of his cap, which were tied under his chin. His confederate in like manner had hidden half his face in a muffler. "That damsel does make you play the fool," he said. "Play the fool? Not a bit of it!" growled d'Estreicher. "I'm keeping an eye on her, that's all." "Rot! You're always shadowing her. You're losing your head about her.... You'll go on doing it till the day she helps you to lose it for good." "I don't say, no. She nearly succeeded in doing it at Roberey. But I need her." "What for?" "For the medal. She's the only person capable of laying her hands on it." "Not here—in any case. We've already searched the house twice." "Badly, without a doubt, since she is coming to it. At least when we caught sight of her she was certainly coming in this direction. The chatter of the maid has sent her here; and she has chosen the night when the old woman would be alone." "You are stuck on your little pet." "I'm stuck on her," growled d'Estreicher. "Only let me lay my hands on her, and I swear the little devil won't forget it in a hurry!" Dorothy shivered. There was in the accents of this man a hate and at the same time a violence of desire which terrified her. He was silent, posted behind the door, listening for her coming. Several minutes passed. Juliet Assire still slept, her hand hanging lower and lower over her work. At last d'Estreicher muttered: "She isn't coming. She must have turned off somewhere." "Ah well, let's clear out," said his accomplice. "No." "Have you got an idea?" "A determination—to find the medal." "But since we've already searched the house twice——" "We went about it the wrong way. We must change our methods.... All the worse for the old woman!" He banged the table at the risk of waking Juliet Assire. "After all, it's too silly! The maid distinctly said: 'There's a medal in the house, the kind of thing they're looking for at the Manor.' Then let's make use of the opportunity, what? What failed in the case of the Baron may succeed to-day." "What? You'd——" "Make her speak—yes. As I tried to make the Baron speak. Only, she's a woman, she is." D'Estreicher had taken off his cap. His evil face wore an expression of savage cruelty. He went to the door, locked it, and put the key in his pocket. Then he came back to the arm-chair in which the good lady was sleeping, gazed at her a moment and of a sudden fell upon her, gripping her throat, and thrust her backwards against the back of the chair. His confederate chuckled: "You needn't give yourself all that trouble. If you squeeze too hard, you'll kill the poor old thing." D'Estreicher opened his fingers a little. The old woman opened her eyes wide and uttered a low groan. "Speak!" d'Estreicher commanded. "The Baron intrusted a medal to you. Where have you put it?" Juliet Assire did not clearly understand what was happening to her. She struggled. Exasperated, he shook her. "Will you prattle? Hey? Where's your old sweetheart's medal? He gave it to you all right. Don't say he didn't, you old hag! Your maid's telling everybody who cares to listen to her. Come, speak up. If you don't——" He picked one of the iron fire-dogs with copper knobs from the hearthstone and brandished it crying: "One ... two ... three.... At twenty I'll crack your skull!" <hr class="chap" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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