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Lake Mystery

[166] <h2 class="nobreak">CHAPTER XII THE SECRET VAULT</h2></div> MAY passed a sleepless night, wearying her brain in a futile endeavor to see her path clearly. She felt that, for the sake of what had been, she could not bring herself to accuse Masters before the others, or even privately to his face. Yet, her manifest duty lay in some step that should prevent another effort by him. She was convinced that he would dare no more, when aware of the fact that there was a witness to bear testimony as to his guilt, and in this she probably reasoned justly. In the end, she decided to write him a note, informing him as to her knowledge, and warning him against further pursuit of his evil plans, or of herself. She would have the missive in readiness to hand to him on the occasion of his first appearance at the cottage. When she had thus determined, it was time to dress, for the day was two hours old. As soon as she was clad with her accustomed nicety, she wrote the letter to the engineer, and then descended to breakfast, pale and wan,[167] with heavy shadows under her eyes, but vastly relieved that, at last, she had reached a decision as to her conduct of the affair. The letter thus prepared was not destined for delivery that day. Masters did not appear at the cottage. As a matter of fact, even his egotism was convinced of the sincerity and unchangeableness of Margaret West’s rejection of his suit. He found to his despair and wrath that the girl was totally irresponsive to his most ardent pleadings. The disappointment to him was the keener because it was so wholly unexpected. The girl had shown pleasure in his society from the first, and he had anticipated an easy victory, despite his jealousy of Saxe. Nevertheless, she repulsed him with a finality not to be denied. His failure was the more exasperating to him by reason of the fact that the cause baffled his every effort of understanding. The truth of the matter lay in a paradox concerning magnetism. Masters possessed in an unusual degree the magnetism of sex. At the outset, Margaret had felt this, without in the least apprehending the nature of the attraction exerted on her. She attributed it[168] rather to his handsome face and buoyant manner, allied with his undoubted cleverness. Later on, as the man’s passion for her developed, this same force in him, which had charmed in its subtler manifestations, became offensive to her sensitiveness. Still without any suspicion of the cause, she felt herself repelled, where before she had been attracted. By so much the more as his desire waxed and was revealed, by so much the more he grew repulsive. In the end, he became altogether detestable to her, and in dismissing him she made her feeling plain. So, Masters did not come that day to the cottage, and the note that lay warm on May’s bosom was undelivered. Yet his dual lack of success in love and in murder did not suffice to quench the spirit of the man. Greed and passion inflamed his hatred of the rival who threatened to destroy his hopes. As he went from Margaret at her bidding, his brain was already busy with new schemes by which to possess himself of the miser’s gold and of the woman he loved. The first step toward such consummation must be the death of Saxe Temple. He was furious against the fate that[169] had saved his enemy at the first trial; he was determined that at the second there should be no escape. The night following that on which the shooting had occurred, Roy Morton passed through an experience that afforded him grounds for apprehension, although he kept the affair secret for a time, in the confident expectation of making further discoveries without assistance from his friends. It was about two o’clock in the morning when he suddenly awakened out of a sound sleep. He attributed this awakening to a subtle warning from his never-sleeping sixth sense. Nevertheless, it is a fact that, in the course of an adventurous career, he had acquired the habit of sleeping very lightly, so that he might be aroused instantly by the slightest sound of an unwonted sort, and it is probable that, on this occasion, some noise disturbed him. Be that as it may, he abruptly found himself broad awake and listening intently. There was no sound anywhere within the cottage. Through the open window came the rhythmic chant of myriad insects, the rustling of leaves caressed by the night wind—nothing[170] more. Roy was inclined to believe that he had been aroused for no adequate cause. Yet, he was disinclined to dismiss the warning of his precious sixth sense without further investigation. He got out of bed, threw a bath-robe over his pajamas, and set forth on a tour of investigation. There was still some moonlight shining through the windows of the hall, by which he was able to assure himself that nothing extraordinary was visible, nor did he hear any unusual sound. He descended into the lower hall, and there, too, his examination failed to show aught amiss. He moved with great caution, in order to avoid giving warning of his presence to a possible intruder, and peered into the office and the dining-room. Everywhere, he found all in order. He betook himself finally to the door of the music-room, which he found almost closed, but not quite. He pushed it open with much care, and bending forward, looked into the room. On the instant, his eyes were attracted by a light that shone clearly against the east wall of the room. By this illumination, he perceived a man, who knelt, holding a pocket-torch in his left hand, while his right was thrust into an opening in[171] the wall. Roy Morton stared in unqualified amazement. For the moment, his interest was centered on the aperture in the wall of the room, rather than on the man who knelt on the floor before it, with his arm thrust into the recess up to the shoulder. In that instant, Roy was seized with the conviction that he had stumbled upon the treasure of Abernethey by means of a monition from his sixth sense, and his heart was filled with gladness, both for the sake of his friend’s fortune thus at last secured, and for the sake of his own pride in being the active agent in that consummation. He had no doubt whatever that the man crouched on the floor was Masters, though the face was unrecognizable in the shadow. He even suffered a little pang of jealousy that the fellow should have succeeded in discovering the golden treasury, while he and his friends had so signally failed. He comforted wounded vanity, however, with the trite reflection that all is well that ends well. It seemed, indeed, that the affair had now become simplicity itself, since there remained only to watch the operations of the thief, and ultimately to possess himself of the[172] gold in his friend’s behalf. It appeared to the observer that the position of the man on the floor left him subject to great disadvantage under attack, and that, therefore, it were wise not to delay action. Roy desired to capture the marauder single-handed for the sake of his own greater glory. He had no question as to his ability to overcome the engineer in a hand-to-hand contest, despite the fellow’s excellent physique. With the idea of taking his enemy by surprise, he pushed the door farther ajar, to make space for a leap forward. Notwithstanding his caution, the hinges creaked with a sudden, harsh noise, which crashed through the silence of the night. In the same second, Roy sprang. At the sound of the opening door, the torch had clicked into darkness—there was the slithering of rubber-shod feet across the floor. As Roy came upon emptiness where had been the man, he heard the rustling of the drawn shade of a window. He saw dimly against the outer light the silhouette of the thief in the opening. Before he could move, it had vanished. He was after it with all speed, but, by the time he stood on the ground outside, he could neither[173] see nor hear aught to give an idea as to the direction of the flight. He went forward blindly, moving here and there haphazard, pausing often to listen. There was no reward to his efforts, and, after a few minutes, realizing the uselessness of longer search, he returned to the cottage, where he entered the open window. It was just as he dropped to the floor that a cheering thought came to Roy. The man had carried away nothing in his flight. At the moment of the door’s creaking, the hand had been withdrawn from the cavity within the wall, and it had been empty. Evidently, the depredator had been interrupted just when he had succeeded in coming on the secret place of the gold. As he realized this, Roy went forward quickly in the direction of the piano-lamp, found matches, made a light, and turned eagerly toward the recess in the wall. As he knelt in the place so recently occupied by that other visitor, there was light enough to see clearly, and he beheld the safe set behind the wainscoting. The steel doors stood ajar; the first glance showed that the receptacle was empty. [174]Amazement was Roy’s dominant emotion for the first few moments. It gave place to chagrin. He strove to disbelieve the evidence of his eyes, but disbelief was impossible. The safe was empty. He thrust his hand within, and felt about carefully, even as the man had done—only to find nowhere so much as a scrap of paper that might have held a clue. The shock of the disappointment stunned him. For a long time, he sat before the opening in the wall, squatting motionless on his haunches, nursing a swiftly rising rage. Roy stood up at last, with an ejaculation of disgust. Then, curiosity laid hold on him, and he began a careful examination of the vault’s mechanism. He pushed the inner doors of steel shut, but without turning the handle to shoot the bolt. Afterward, he scrutinized the portion of the wainscoting that was swung outward to reveal the safe. He moved it to and fro, a little way slowly, finding that it was very delicately balanced, so that it responded to the lightest touch. He inspected the bolts with which it was fitted, and sought to understand exactly the method of their operation, but this persistently escaped him, nothwithstanding his[175] knowledge of mechanical appliances. It was while he was pulling at one of the bolts that the impetus of his effort sent the section of wainscoting into its usual place as a part of the wall. Roy tried to catch it in order to prevent its closing, but he was just too late. He tugged at a projection of the carving, only to find that the masked door resisted his strength. He realized that the bolts had been thrust into their sockets by some device automatic in the act of closing. Greatly annoyed, he began a hunt for the secret spring by which the operation of the bolts must be controlled. In this he failed. Try as he would, the wainscoting rested there before him in an immobility beyond measure exasperating. He went over the entire surface with painstaking care, pressing or pulling at each hollow or projection, and always there was the same irritating lack of response. Roy, with his chin thrust forward belligerently, toiled on in countless futile experiments, only to confess defeat. He was worn with fatigue from the monotonous labor when at last a distant sound startled him,[176] and he looked around, to discover that day had come. Fearful lest he be discovered there, he fled to his room, disgusted by the fiasco. For the first time in his life, he sneered at that delusive faculty, the sixth sense. <hr class="chap" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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