The Monckton Mystery.

New Zealand Mail, Issue 849, 8 June 1888, Page 9

The Monckton Mystery.

Christmas was fast approaching, and I was mentally weighing the comparative attractions of Brighton and Paris, Monte Carlo and Nice, when my waverings were brought to a sudden decision by a few terse lines of imperative entreaty from my friend Ralph Vernon. We had not met for years, but the sight of his writing, the characteristic wording of his brief sentences, recalled him as forcibly to my mind as though we had but just parted, and revived anew tho weird fascination that his society had always had for me. There was, moreover, something urgent in his appeal for my company that aroused my curiosity, and drove -me to accept the invitation without hesitation.

The last time I had seen that dark massive face, with its inscrutable eyes and cynical smile, had been in Vienna some five years before, since when Fate had never once thrown him across my path. From the fact that his notepaper boro the address of Monckton Lodge, Monckton, Kent, I gathered that my restless friend had settled down in his native land, to wander no more. He had always been loud in his depreciation of England and English life, but he was just the man to adopt with fervour what he. had previously vigorously opposed. Ali through the cold railway journey on that dreary December day my mind was filled with conjectures, and I asked myself more than once what was the real motive that had prompted Vernon to select me from his entire circle of acquaintances for his Christmas guest. A short drive from the railway-station through tho chilly darkness brought me to Monckton Lodge, where Vernon’s welcome of me was warm and cordial. But I noticed as we stood together over the cheerful hall-fire that the shadows had deepened about the brow, and threads of gray were to ba seen among the raven locks that fell over it. He was, however, just as whimsical, just as oynioal, and bad just the same wild bursts of sudden merriment as of yore. The variety of his moods was, in truth, one of the chief charms of his manner. The house I found to be a bright, cosy bachelor abode ; modern comfort artistically intermixed with ancient art.

* What a lucky fellow you are, Vernon !’ I said, as we sat after dinner in his smokingden, pipes in mouths and feet on fender. ‘I am half inclined to envy you this peaceful country home. By tho bye, how did you come to settle down in it? I had thought you a wanderer for life.’ ' Vernon turned and flashed one glance of keeh inquiry into my eyes : a strange look, charged with something more than more inquiry ; it seemed almost a challenge to suspicion. ‘ I have not settled down,’ he said, bending to knock the ashes from bis pipe. ‘ J

am here to-day and possibly off to-morrow —that is to say, when you are tired of my society, and the restless fit is on me again. I only came down here the day I wrote to you.’

‘But when did y.ou buv the place, and what induced you to do so ? ‘ As a matter of fact, I bought it five years back ; as another matter of fact, I never slept in it till two nights ago. As to my reasons for buying it—well, they were about as mixed and a 3 ioti-lligible to any outsider as most of my other actions are.’ Something in the tone of his voice struck me as strange. There was an evident attempt to hide deep feeling under a semblance of carelessness. That there was some mystery attached to his purchase of the house I felt convinced, but nothing'furthcr was said on tho suhjeot, anil the evening pas ed swiftly and brightly away in reviving common memories anil personal experiences. Vernon was a brilliant narrator, and iu listening to bis discourse time sped unheeded, and twelve o’clock had already struck before we parted at my bedroom door.

Ten minutes larer, I was in bed aud fast asleep. But my already over-excited brain refused to rest, and treated me to a sories of weird dreams, which in their distinct vividness might have been actual realities. Three figures stood out through variod surroundings in bold relief. A man—undoubtedly—iu swift pursuit of two others, a man and a woman. The face of the former was hidden from my view by a broad felt hat, bub to my dream-self he appeared well known and recognised as he clasped the woman to him with one arm in a halfembrace and dragged her along. Her face was turned upwards to his, and showed a remarkably beautiful profile. Her long fur cloak tell away from her neck, bared in evening dress, and diamonds shone above the broad white brow and amidst the laces at her besom. Through endless gloomy forest paths I pursued them with swift yet cautious tread, while the wild cry of night-birds sounded from tho thick boughs overhead, and the moon gleamed forth fitfully at intervals. Then through long endless corridors, ’twixt. stately marble pillars, where the awful silence was only broken by the rustle of the woman’s skirts of white brooade. But. though I continued to follow, I could not gain uoon them. Finally the dream changed,, and I stood alone in my bedroom at Mouckton Lodge, gazing at,my own sleepiug form. And as I sketched out my hand to awaken my other slumbering self the door slowly opened, and the woman of whom I had been in pursuit glided in. This ’time she wore no mantle, and I saw oil the left side of her neck a deep gash, from which the blood trickled, dyeing crimson the laces at her bosom. And the woman advanced to the foot of the bed, and, raising her left arm, pointed to some spot on the wall immediately behind the head of the bed, and said distinctly the one word ‘Seek!’ and at the sound of her voice 1 'awoke with a terrific start. All was quiet. The fire, still brightly burning,'revealed clearly every corner of the room; but bathed in a cold porspiration, I lay trembling ; the dream was too vivid to allow me to turn and view the wall behind. At length, ashamed of my own cowardice, I summoned up sufficient courage to make an examination. Nothing very terrible met my affrighted eyes - only the smart chintz back of my bed-eanopy. Reassured and comforted, I tried once more to court slumber, and . finally fell into a heavy sleep which continued till morning, and was broken by Vernon's own cheery voice upbraiding me for a lazy fellow. But strive as T would, I could not ahako off the memory of my dream, and more than once during the morning I caught my host’s eye fixed upon me in wondering surprise at my random answers to his gay chatter, and it was with alacrity that I seconded his suggestion of a tramp before lunch to Monckton Towers, the show place of the neighborhood. There was a short cut, we were informed, through the woods that lay on the right of the Lodge, but for the sake of exercise we chose the longer route along the public highway.

‘ There’s a romantic mystery attached to the place, the details of which I meat to charm out of the housekeeper,’ Vernon remarked, as he drew near to the entrancegates. ‘ What a fellow you are to find out things ?’ was my laughing rejoinder. ‘Servants’ gossip,’ replied he carelessly. ‘ My groom is a local man.’ We turned in at the gates as he spoke, and entered a long avenue which led to the house —a grimly imposing structure of turrets and mullioned windows and gray stone wall devoid of ivy. Vernon’s request to bn allowed to see the far-famed picture-gallery was jnstoutly granted, and we were handed over to the guidance of a portly, smiling housekeeper. From her we learnt that Lord Monckton was absent abroad, The picture-gallery consisted of a suite of long narrow rooms opening into one another, furnished with a few settees which were covered in brown holland wrappers. I noticed that Vernon in spite of his profound eagerness'to inspect the Moncktons’ ancestors paid but little attentiou to the pictures. A cloud had fallen upon him since his entry into the house, and he relapsed into silence, leaviug most of the questions to me. Luckily the housekeeper was of the garrulous type and discoursed freely. We had passed through three rooms, and were on the point of entering the fourth, when my footsteps were arrested by a thrilling whisper iu my ear. Only the one word ‘Reek !’ but it froze the blood in my veins, for the voice was the voice of the woman in my dream. I turned quickly. Vernon and the housekeeper had already passed on iuto the fourth rooms but, as far as I could see, I was alone. Was I going n.ad, or dreaming ? I pulled myself mentally together and followed the others through the doorway. Vernon’s voice called to me eagerly from the further end. ‘ Come here ; did you ever see anything so beautiful?’ He stood before an easel on which rested the scarcely finished portrait of a woman. I looked over his shoulder and saw—the likeue a of my dreamwoman 1 She wore the samo dress of white brocade out of which rose the equally white shoulders ; the diamonds, whose design I I recognised, shone above the low broad brow ; only the deep gash in the full throat, with

its red stream making a crimson patch on the lace below, was wanting. ‘Why, it is she!’ were the words that rushed to my lips—possibly they escaped me, for I became conscious that Vernon was regarding mo with strange and deep concern.

Then his eye 3 travelled from my face back to the picture. ‘ Isn’t she beautiful ? ' he said again. ‘And now, Mistress Housekeeper, for you* history of her.’ ‘lndeed, sir, and I am surprised as you don’t already know it, for it made a deal of talk at the time ; but there’s a lot forgot in five years, and it’s just that now since my lady sat for that portrait. She was his lordship’s wife, you must know, and the very apple of his eye ; but I don’t fancy as she ever oared much for him, and just this time five years ago she left him.’ ‘ Left him ! How, and with whom?’

‘Ah, sir, that’s just what no one knows. You see this was bow it was. They had been abroad a deal for her ladyship’s health, and when they come back they brought the young Italian artist with them as does this picture. We all noticed as how my lady was restless aud disturbed like, but we didn’t suspect nothing wrong. iOn Christmas Evfe there was a grand ball here, and in the middle of the evening my lady was found to be missing ; and neither she nor the family diainouds that she wore have ever been heard of'again since that night. My lord was nearly out of hi 3 mind ; at first I think he suspected the Italian, but he, poor fellow. was as heart-broken as his lordship. He remained here nearly two months alterthat night, touching up the picture as best he could from memory. Long after it was reported as how some man was seen lurking in the wood that night ; but nothing was ever discovered, and it’s my believe as'how her ladyship was foully murdered and robbed of her jewels.’

‘lt is more possible she had an unknown lover, and is living happily with him in some far-hidden corner of the earth,’ said Vernon.

The housekeeper shook her head solemnly. 1 Yon never knew my lady, sir ; she wasn’t one of them sort that think the world well lost for love. She would never have done a stupid thing of that kind.’ And, somewhat offended evidently at Vern'n’s remark, she led the way back to the hall in dignified silence.

‘There’s a romantic mystery for you 1 What do you think of it, old fellow ?’ he said to me as wo trudged homeward. ‘ Don’t ask me now ; I will tc' l you later. I think I have a clue.’

‘ A clue to the murder or the reappearance of the lady herself ? ’ turning round to look earnestly at me. ‘ Ask me nothing now ; you shall know all my thoughts later, when I have satisfied myself on one point.’ My seriousness seemed to repress him, and he relapsed into silence. My fifst act on reaching the house was to ascend to my room, with a firm determination to make a thorough investigation of the back of my bed ; for tny dream had taken an overwhelming hold of me, and, powerless to reason, I felt strong in conviction and action. The pointing finger, the thrilling command to ‘ Seek ! ’ were facts not lightly to be passed over. Fate had apparently destined me to unravel this dark mystery, and unravel it I would.' The chintz draperies of my bed, however, revealed no secrets. All was hopelessly simple and apparent. Having satisfied . myself that the bed rested against the wall, leaving no intervening space between, I was almost giving up hope of elucidatibn, when it suddenly occurred to me to pull out the bed itself. Then, with a cry of delight and an intoxicating sense of success, my eye fell upon a small door in the vvalj against which the bo 1 had been placed. It had been papered over to match the rest of the room, aud was the size of an ordinary cupboard. There was no handle, and the lock, from which the key had been removed, was securely fastened. My first impulse was to try the various other keys in the room, in the hope of finding one to fit ; my second, to seek out Vernon, and apprise him first of all that had taken place. Accordingly I sought him in the smoking-den below. He listened to my excited tale, and confident belief that behind the cupboard door was to be found the true solution of the Monckton mystery, with a quiet-smile. ‘I did notknowyoubelieved in dreams,’he remarked. ‘As to the door this is the very first I have ever heard of its existence. You may force it open certainly, in pursuit of your idea, but first let me ask you one question. You are in earnest in all this? You really have a strong conviction, unexplainable to yourself, but none the less convincing, that behind that door lies the elue ?’ > ‘ I would stake my life on it.’

- Then,’ said Vernon resolutely, ‘ before we proceed further iu thia matter, I think we had better bring the law as witness on the scene.’

‘ What do you mean ?’ ‘ Only thia : that in oase you are correct in your feelings, and to avoid all unpleasantness afterwards, supposing anything of importance is discovered, I will send a line to Mr Burke, the nearest magistrate, requesting his presence.’ To this suggestion I agreed heartily, and a note was accordingly despatched. Owing to the distance and the snow, which ever since lunch had been falling heavily, several hours must of necessity elapse before the return of the dog-cart. But, strung up as I was to a pitch of nervous expectancy not unmixed with horror at finding myself taking so prominent a part in so mysterious an affair, the time, under the spell of Vernon’s company, passed quickly away. Never can I remember him as more charming, more brilliant, whilst under all his brilliancy there lurked a sad thoughtfulness, a gentleness of tone that was altogether new to me. The sound of wheels and the sharp tinkle of the door-bell broke in harshly upon our pleasant conversation. The wintry afternoon had drawn to a close, and Vernon proceeded to light the candles on the mantlepiece. As the light fell upon his face, I was struck by his pallor. There was a drawn expression of intense suffering, while the eyes had a far-away look that riveted my gaze and lingeted in my memory long after. At the same instant the door was op .ned, and Mr Burke was ushered in. Vernon, after a few introductory words, left me to tell my own tale, and though at

first the worthy magistrate appeared to treat the whole matter as a joke, as T proceeded the force of my earnestness began to tell upon him, and at its conclusion he was as eager as myself. Vernon and I escorted him to my bedroom, where he careful!} 7 inspected the hidden door. . There remained now nothing to do but to burst it open. There was a moment’s mental nerving of courage as the door yielded to pressure, aud swung hack on its hiuges. At first nothing was visible hut darkness, till 1 snatching up a candle, thrust it into the apeiture, and disclosed a large square cupboard, iu the centre stood a long tin-travelling case. 1 We must open it,’ I cried excitedly ; and Mr Burke, stepping forward, wieucked the lid upward with one turn of liis strong hand.

Beneath lay a fur cloak. ‘ The cloak of my dream,’l whispered as he handed it to me.

Then came tumbled folds of white brocade, which, when dragged backwards, left discovered two legs aud finally the entire body of a woman laid doubled on her back. The feet had been squeezed- down flat upon the faco, which was . horribly decomposed, but the diamonds in. the golden hair and about the body left no doubt as to the identification of the missing Lady Monckton. Tt was a ghastly sight, and one that, three strong nien though we were, affected us visibly.

Vernon’s voice broke the stillness. ‘For God’s sake, shut down the lid !’ he said ; ‘ and, Mr Burke, I leave it to you io give the necessary information to the proper quarters. You will remain with us to-night ? Indeed, there is no other alternative, for see’ —and,' drawing away tiie curtains from my bedroom window, he showed the snow stilt falling thickly— 1 the roads by this time must be almost impassable. You must be my guest to-night.’ We pushed the bed back against the cupboard, and locked the chamber door upon the outside, giving the key into Mr Burke’s charge. As we descended the stairs Vernon touched me on the arm. »

‘Take Burke down-into the smoking-room, will you ? I will join you presently. That sight has knocked me over for the moment.’ He was deadly pale, and a wild look lit up his eyes, which were gazing with a'strange intensity into mine.

* All right,’ s iid I, and passed on downstairs.

He stood a minute gazing after me, then waved his hand and disappeared into his own chamber. I joined Burke below, and in the interest of bur exciting conjectures over much that was still, and probably would ever remain, a mystery, we were heedless of Vernon’s continued absence, till the sharp sudden report of a revolver was heard overhead. We both sprang to our feet, with possibly the same hideous thought flashing through our minds. ,1 rushed to the door, Burke after me, and hurried up to Vernon’s. The door was unlocked and yielded to my grasp, and there, stretched upon the floor immediately at my feet, lay the lifeless body of my friend. I bent over him, and was struck with' surprise at the sweet calm expression of his face. A letter addressed to myself lay upon hin writing-table. It ran thus :

‘ Wh?n you read this I shall have accomplished the vain effort, o 7 fiv-i long years—destroyed the life that justice would not sooner bring to an end. It was 1 who committed the deed which you to night have brought to light, anil it was I who led and influenced you to that discovery. You could never understand, I could never explain, how I came to do it.- It was not premeditated.* I loved her its only a nature like mine could love, with a strength and intensity either to cherish with a lifelong -devotion-or in a moment’s hatred to kill. Once she loved mo, in her own poor feeble way; then the Italian came between us. When ho left Italy in her train I followed them to England, and bought this house, visiting it unknown to any one, the better to watch her movements and to facilitate her meetings with myself. But these were later refused. Then my love turned to threats, and by the force of them I ■ compelled her to give me one more interview—it was the night of the ball., We met, as arranged, in the wood. By the bait of returning to her some of her letters I induced her to enter my house. I had nq thought then of murder; I hoped to prevent her departure, and by thus compromising tier honor to prevail upon her to go away with me ; but love, anger, and threats all failed. Then the demon of revenge entered my soul. Let her return to my rival, and laugh in his arms over my defeat ? Never! Better dead than that ; and so I took tho life that would not nestle into my own. And she became neither mine nor his. Since that day her spirit has never left mo. Time after time has it glided between me and courted death. “You shall not rest till I be laid in peace,” it has whispered to me again and again ; and to accomplish that end became my - one endeavor. It oould alone be done, I felt, through the instrumentality of another ; and amongst all my acquaintances, you struck me as the best adapted tor my purpose. You were above all fear of suspicion falling upon you, and your nature was, I had previously tested, magnetically susceptible to mine. My will, I knew, had the power to influence your train of thought. With that purpose in view I invited you here. Once on the spot, the rest was easy. The portrait following on the dream worked the necessary curiosity and determination, and accomplished what I could not achieve for myself. For the peace of death I thank you. : Pray for my soul.

‘ Ralph Vernon.’ \