CHAPTER CXLIII.
[Chapter 152]
THE SCENE OF THE MURDER. —THE VISIT TO THE HOUSE. —THE MYSTERIOUS
DISAPPEARANCE OF THE TREASURE.
The next day came; there was much excitement in the family of the
Frasers; each one could see the partiality of Sir Francis Varney for Miss
Stevens. She herself could not pretend that it was not so, or that she was
unable to see it. It was quite plain and evident, and yet it gave her great
pain, because she had an unconquerable aversion to him, who was her
benefactor, and to whom she owed so much.
This, however, was a strong and inexplicable feeling in her own mind, and
she felt that if death or Sir Francis were her only alternatives, she must
choose the former. This was from some feeling, from what source it sprung she
could not tell you, that appeared to forbid her permitting the approach of
such a lover.
It might have been instinct, or it might have been that she had taken a
personal dislike to him on account of his complexion; and yet she could not
admit so much even to herself as that, and yet it must have had an origin.
She looked at him much more and more each hour, and more and more did she
dislike him. At length she felt so much repugnance to him, that, if it were
not for the deep gratitude she owed him, she would fly from and not even
endure his society, good as that she was compelled to admit really was.
When he offered her his arm in their walk to the assembly-rooms and the
pump-room, they were much pleased with the appearance of everything, and with
the attentions of Sir Francis, who certainly did all he could to make the
party comfortable and amused, he was so well acquainted with every object.
As they returned to the hotel, at which they all remained, they passed
the house of the old woman who had been so cruelly murdered the night before.
Sir Francis cast a cursory glance at it as they passed, but there was no sign
of the door having been opened, and the murder had not yet been discovered;
and this arose from the fact that the old woman was an eccentric, and her
shutters had remained in that way before; and, therefore, no one took any
particular notice of it.
When the party had reached the hotel, Sir Francis said, —
"You will, I presume, attend the ball this evening at the
assembly-rooms?"
"We should wish to do so," replied the captain. "Do you intend to go,
Sir Francis?"
"I will, captain. It is now some time since I went to such a place, and
I think the change will be so great and agreeable, that I will go."
"Then we shall have the advantage of your guidance," said Captain Fraser;
"and I hope we shall long have the pleasure of doing so."
"You are very good in saying so, captain; and, if agreeable to yourself
and the ladies, I am willing, and shall be happy to bear you company."
"I am sure," replied Mrs. Fraser, "we shall always be happy with Sir
Francis Varney's company, and thank him for his condescension—shall we not,
sister?"
"Yes. I am sure I shall be much obliged to Sir Francis for this, as well
as many other services he has done us."
"Do not talk in this manner," sadi Sir Francis, —"do not speak of the
past, Miss Stevens; it is the present I would wish you to think of; at the
same time, I desire only to be accepted, because I may not be thought
intruding."
"Dear me, Sir Francis, how you talk! Really, I am afraid we have said
something to give you displeasure, or my sister, here, has misbehaved herself;
if so, I shall really take her to task for so doing."
"You will be acting unjustly if you do. But permit me to leave you for a
short time. I have some matters to transact. I expect a remittance of money
to this place, for I usually appoint some particular town or city, for I do
not consider it safe to carry any great amount of money about me; it gives
such temptations to robbery and violence that, travelling as I do, from place
to place, I am especially liable to such attempts."
"Certainly, you are."
"Then I will bid you good evening, for the present," said the baronet,
and he left the room.
* * * * *
When Sir Francis left the apartment in which he had been with the
Frasers, he walked to his own apartment, and taking a large cloak and a small
portmanteau he had purchased, he made his way to the very house where he had
the night before committed such a double murder.
Before he reached there, however, he put the cloak on, and when he
approached the house, he found the street entirely deserted; then hastilly
stepping up, he put the key into the key-hole, and at once opened the door and
walked in.
He paused a moment or two, and then went down the passage a few feet,
until he came to the body, for which he felt with his foot.
"Ah!" he muttered; "I see all is right—quite right; here is the body—
nobody has been here to disturb it."
He took out materials for obtaining a light, and then he pushed past, and
walked up stairs, until he came to the bed-room, where he again opened the
strange receptacle of gold and bones; but, as he did so, what was his
amazement to find a small packet of paper lying down, but all the gold gone!
He started up in an instant, and laid his hand upon his sword, but at the
same time he appeared rivetted to the spot, and paused in this attitude for
more than a minute.
Then, recovering himself, he gazed round slowly and carefully from side
to side, as if to assure himself he was not trapped. But hearing no sound —
nothing stirring from any quarter whatever, he began to think there might be
some mistake in his vision.
"Surely—surely," he muttered, "no one could have come in, and, seeing
the bodies, possessed themselves of the money, and then walked out. They
would surely have given the alarm; besides, any one who had entered would
never have gone further than the bodies.
"It is impossible," he muttered, and he again stooped down to examine the
cupboard from which the treasure appeared to be abstracted. But there was
nothing to be seen, save the bare boards; no signs of the treasure remained.
This was a strange and mysterious disappearance of what could not have gone
without human means.
"How did they get at it?" he muttered; "the place was locked, and in the
same order as I left it; there is no getting into such a place without
unlocking or forcing open the cupboard, or, I may say, chest, for this is a
stong place; it is not broken open, and I have the key."
Varney paused for several moments, and then he picked up some paper,
which was folded up, and seeing it was written upon, he thrust it into his
pocket, and again looked into the treasure coffer, but all was gone.
"D—-n!" muttered Varney, furiously stamping his foot, as if at that
moment only he had become perfectly aware of his disappointment. "What can be
the meaning of this? But this is no place for me; some one has been here, and
the murder is known. I must quit it—eh?"
At that moment there came such a peal at the door with the knocker, that
made the house appear as if it were a pandemonium of noises and echoes, which
followed the first stunning sounds that filled the place.
Varney started and listened.
"Ah," he said, "they have tracked me here. What can that mean? Have
they, indeed, laid a trap for me? Do they think I am caught? But, no—no, I
am too fast; they know me not, nor can any one have traced me here, for they
know not where I came from, and—but there, it is useless speculating; they
may have laid a trap to catch whom they could, or they—ah, they have seen
the light, and the house being shut all day, they now want to see if anything
is the matter; but I'll warrant all is safe and clear; there is nothing known,
and all I have to do, is to get away."
That was very true; all Sir Francis had to do was to get away; but it was
somewhat more difficult to perform than he had any notion; for, as he came out
into the landing, he found there was an unexpected obstacle in his path. As
soon as he attempted to descend to the back parlour for the purpose of getting
out of the back window, he found the door had been burst open by the
impatience of the mob who stood below, and the door not being very strong, the
shoulders of those who were nearest were sufficient to force it open.
In a moment the passage was filled with the crowd, the foremost of whom
tumbled over the body, and were up in a moment.
"Good God!" exclaimed one, "here is somebody lying down in the passage."
"It is a corpse," said another.
"The woman's murdered," said another, "Get a light—get a light, and let
us see what is the matter. Here is a dead body—a light—get a light, can't
some of you?"
"Well, I suppose we can; but what of it? I expect it can't be done
without giving anybody time to do it in; if you think it can, you had better
do it yourself, and perhaps you'll begin now."
However, there was a light produced, and that put an end to the
altercation, and silence was immediately restored, when they saw the congealed
blood, and the body lying in it; and then one, on pushing his way into the
parlour, exclaimed, —
"And here's the old woman, she's dead and cold."
"She's murdered!"
"Yes, there's no doubt about that, poor creatures; and no one at hand to
lend them any assistance. What a horrible affair!"
"Yes, horrible; but who's done it? There are rooms up stairs; they had
better be searched; let's go up at once."
"Aye—aye."
Sir Francis waited not a moment more; he had heard enough to convince him
his only chance was to escape while he could, for if they once seized him
under such circumstances, he would not be able to escape again, and he
immediately rushed to the back window; but there was no balcony there; he
could not get out there, so came to the landing, and just reached the short
steps that led to the roof, and there, had scarcely got the trap-door
unbolted, when the heard a voice say, —
"Up stairs, lad—up stairs. I hear somebody there trying to get out—
up stairs, lads, and follow him—up stairs."
There was a shout, and then all rushed up stairs, and Varney had scarcely
got into the loft, when some one called out, —
"I see his legs—he's got into the loft. Up the steps."
"Hurrah! hurrah! up the steps, my boys; follow me," sadi one man, as he
got on the landing, and ran to seize the ladder; but Varney saw the necessity
of preventing immediate and hot pursuit, lest he should be recognised and
followed to the hotel, when that would be death to his hopes.
Just as the man had reached the ladder, Varney lifted it off the hooks
upon which it hung, and flung it back against the man, who fell back, and he,
with the fallen ladder, created a dreadful confusion amongst those who were
coming up stairs, many being knocked down, and the remainder retreated,
thinking that at least there were a battalion of murderers.
This gave Varney time to get to the roof, and he then crept along several
house-tops, without being discovered, though he could hear the shouts and hum
of the mob, as they gathered round the house he had left.
Then how to get out of his present position was a question he was not
well able to tell. He must let himself out through some of the houses, and to
do that without raising a hue-and-cry, was a question he was not able to
solve. Once or twice he thought of letting himself down from the outside; but
this he gave up as being impossible, for destruction to himself would be the
instant result.
"I must get into one of these houses, and remain concealed," he thought,
"till the dead of the night, and then I could get through the house without
any trouble, or fear of detection—but then the Frasers. I must not
disappoint them."
This last consideration appeared to determine him, for he immediately
crawled to one house that appeared to be the best calculated for his purpose,
and he at once entered it by means of a small window that belonged to an
attic. In this room was to be seen only a bed, and a few chairs, and a table.
All was silent, no one was moving; he stepped up to the bed, but was
somewhat startled to find it occupied by some odd-looking human form, wrapped
up in a curious and uninviting manner.
"Ah!" thought Varney, "I didn't think to have found any one in possession
of this place so early; but they sleep, and that is enough."
He had scarce said so, when a voice said,
"Nurse, nurse—confound you, why don't you bring my posset? Do you
hear, cuss you? here have I been kept here for two hours without my supper,
and what you gave me last night had no rum in it. How's a man to get well,
and kept upon short allowance? I tell you it cannot be done, not at any
price. Will you bring me my grog posset, or won't you? You inhuman wretch,
to keep an old sailor upon short allowance of grog and won't give him any
except in the shape of a posset!"
This was pathetic, but Varney paid no attention to it, and gently glided
out of the room. When he quitted the apartment, he descended the stairs, and
then he came to the passage or hall, when he was met by a stout female.
"Whom do you want?" exclaimed the fat female.
"Madam," said Varney, "are you aware of the calamity that has befallen
you?"
"No, sir. What—what is it?"
"The lunatic in the top room has in a fit of malignity set the upper part
of your house in flames. You had better take care of yourself."
"Oh, my God! the house is on fire!" said the fat woman. "Oh, mercy,
mercy! Fire! fire! fire! The house is a fire."
Varney turned round and opened the door, just as several people were
rushing out of their rooms at hearing these alarming exclamations.
"That will do," muttered Varney, as he closed the door behind him, and
then walked hastily towards the hotel, to which, however, he did not go quite
straight; he went a little on one side to avoid meeting the crowd, as being an
unpleasant mass of human creatures which are singularly unpleasant to meet
with, leaving them to secure themsleves and find the murderer, if they were
able to do so.
—