THE OPENING BOOR

New Zealand Mail, Issue 1612, 21 January 1903, Page 11

THE OPENING BOOR

(By Christian Lys.)

“I am sorry you cannot come, Heygate, but I think you are right; those papers ought to be looked through with as little delay as possible." Sir Francis was being helped a heavy overcoat by the butler as he- spoke. “It strikes ffie you have decidedly the best of it," he went on, as a more than usually heavy gust of wind struck the house and raged angrily through the trees in tha avenue. “What do you say, Evelyn? Shall we give up the concert and disappoint the inhabitants for oncer" ■'Certainly not," laughed the girl, shaking hack the fur-lined hood from her face a little. “If you get through the papers sooner than you expect, Mr Heygate, you might go and talk to Aunt Caroline for a little while. I am sure she would be pleased.” Hers was a provokingly pretty face, especially with such a roguish smile upon it as at that moment. She knew perfectly well that I should find little pleasure in talking to Aunt Caroline. As the carriage rolled away down the avenue, I went into the library, but T. uid not turn to my work-at once. I stirred the fire into a blaze, lit a cigarette, and through the smoke of it contemplated a photograph of Evelyn Gillian winch stood upon the mantelpiece. It was a speaking likeness caught at her happiest moment. She was smiling, much as she had smiled at me just now, and I had no doubt what h e r smiles meant when I was the recipient of them. Strange how a woman may unconsciously creep into ajnan’s life and spoil it. A few short months ago and I had been contented, grateful that my lines were cast in such pleasant places, and that the vista of a successful futiire had been opened up to me; move . With a sigh I threw away the cigarette and turned to the writing-table and my work. The papers were important, but they could have waited until to-morrow had I desired to go out to-night. I was playing th© martyr to spite Miss Gillian, and I was painfully conscious that I had sacrificed myself in vain. It was a matter of no moment to her whether I went to the concert or not. Why should it be? I was private secretary to Sir Francis Gillian. He and my father had been friends at Harrow and the University, and when my father had died two years ago, leaving me a briefless barrister, without a penny in the world. Sir Francis had suggested the arrangement. I accepted the position without a moment's hesitation. for Sir Francis Gillian was a member of the Cabinet, a power in the House of Commons, and, although he had the reputation of being a hard and austere man, he treated me very well. I "was-use-ful to him, and looked forward to a Parliamentary career myself; indeed, Sir Francis had promised me his help, and with liis influence behind me I could hardly fail. Then came an awakening—the consciousness of a new thread in inv life. Six months ago I had seen his daughter Evelyn for the first time. She had been travelling on the Continent for some months, part of the time with the Aunt Caroline, who was now an invalid in the house, absolutely confined to her room. With Eve-lyn Gillian's coming my discontent was born, and had flourished exceedingly ever since. I think I fell in love the moment Sir Francis presented me to his daughter. She accepted me as one of the family, was gracious to me, •and soon understood me. It was not long before I understood her, too. Her provoking smile told me plainly enough that only politeness prevented her laudhing outright at my ambition. Evelyn Gillian was not for her father's secretary, and I had every reason to suppose she was des--tined to become mistress of Stour Abbey, to which property a Captain Denton had lately succeeded. He was generally liked, I believe: I came near to hating him. To-night lie would be at the concert in aid of the Cottage Hospital, where Evelyn was singing, and this was why T did liot go; , He knew nothing about music; I did, and I thought I might annoy the siuge r .by taking no interest in her performance. It was very petty, a-nd, moreover. futile. Instead of being annoyed, she had’ suggested a talk with Aunt Caroline as/a relaxation from my labours. I drew the green-shaded lamp closer and set to work upon the papers. I have the faculty of putting my whole mind into any work I have in hand. I forgot the concert and was hardly conscious of the wind roaring in the wide chimney and rattling the windows behind their shutters. My thoughts ran freely and smoothly, and I must have worked for an lxour filling a small sheaf of paper slips with notes, when a particularly knotty point caused me to put down my pen and lean back in my chair to think it out. On the opposite wall between two

windows was a long mirror. In it I could see my own rofiecuon, ana the reilection of tiie green lamp, and of the closed door behind me. It was like looking into anoener room. The man sitting there was almost companionable. The unonginality oi the idea did not occur to me, but the fact of the impression being fixed in my mind at the moment seems to explain wiiy 1 remained gazing into the mirror as I did. In my half reverie I was looking into another room, taking stock of tiie surroundings of the man wfio sar, there alone, with the door last closed behind him. Closed! I was looking across tiie table, past the man, towards the door, and i saw it open slowly, just a little way. There was no sound. The wind, might have done it, or the insecurelyfastened latch might have sl>pped. A little, more it opened, still silently, and then four thin lingers clasped it, opening it a little wider. 'There was the Repression oi evil and stealth in those fingers. I wondered why tne man at the table did not tui'ii His face was pale with a green-, isli hue from the lamp, and lie sat motionless staring past me, while those fingers held the door lest it should swing and make a noise. Those, thin fingers fascinated me. I speculated upon the owner of them, and all the time I wanted to cry out and warn the man. There was another stealthy movement of tn« door, and then a head appeared just above the fingers—a woman's head, xhe hair was unkempt, a scanty, grizzled lock or two falling upon her forehead, which was drawn into a frown. The thin lips were drawn back from the closed teetfi, and there was malice in her eyes as she looked at the man seated there. Just then a flame in the hie sprang up and cast a lurid light upon the face and the four thin fingers. It may have been a quiver of the firelight, but I though., there was a grin upon the face. The head was withdrawn; there remained oniy the four fingers drawing the door slowly and silently, and then the fingers disappeared, and the door closed. I waited, listening for the snap of the latch. There was no sound. Suddenly the man sprang to his feet. I was standing gazing at the door behind me, which was shut. The wind roared again in the chimney, and the windows behind the shutters rattled as though giant hands were shaming them. Yet the silence within the house was oppressive. I crossed the room and opened th 0 door. The hall was empty and silent save for the steady ticking of a clock at the head of the stairs. Could 1 possibly have been dreaming? I looked at the papers, at the paragraph which had caused me to lean back m my chain Was it possible that at that moment I had slipped into a dream? The thm fingers I had not recognised, but the face was the face of Aunt Caroline, who was a nrisouer in her room, and, indeed, had hardly left her bed for the last two months. v . I .gathered the papers together .and locked them, in a drawer. I had not intended to give Aunt Caroline the benefit of my company to-night, but now I would go to her and satisfy myself that she had not left her room. I remembered old ghost stones told of Stour Park as I ascended the stairs, and found myself - glancing suspiciously at shadows iir the corner of the landing. I knocked at Aunt Caroline's door, and. was immediately told to enter- She was in bod. and the nurse, a sour-looking spinster, sat by the lire, a book in her hands. Blie was reading to Aunt Caroline. I had heard the drone of her voice before I knocked -at the door. “Mr Heygate, you are welcome. Put down the book, nurse; that Is, Mr Heygate, if you have come to talk to me for a little while ?" , . “I thought I would just look m and se w how you were this evening, Mrs Armstrong," I answered, casting a rapid glance round the room. There was notfiing to suggest that the invalid had moved from her present position. “I sometimes think I am as well as 1 over shall be," she answered. “How long have I been in this room. ?" “Two months."

“Not longer? It seems'like tivo years. I feel very grateful to Sir Francis for allowing me to turn his house into a hospital." Was it fancy, or did a malicious smile play upon her features for a moment, such a smile as I had seen upon the face at the door? “I wonder if 1 should be so generous were I as rich as Sir Francis," she said, after a pause.

“It is difficult for anyone to say Avbat he would do with tiie Avealtli he is novel likely to have,” 1 answered. “There is a felloAV-feeling betAveen us. Mr Heygate. We are both dependants upon Sir Francis’s bounty.’ . “I have never looked upon myself m that light," I amsAvered. “Ah! you are able to believe that you earn your daily bread. You are fortunate. I cannot delude myself Avith such a feny. You have ambition, I supP °“Many ambitions, Mrs Armstrong.” “I Avonder you have not gone to South Africa " she said, reflectreely. “The short roads to fame and fortune seem to lie * “That is a matter of opinion,” I said, “besides .” • - . “Besides, you have one ambition which necessitates your remaining at home." “I do not understand.” “No?” and she smiled, giving me plainly to understand that she did not believe me.

“You did not eo to the concert tonight; hoAv Avas that?" she asked, after a pause. • “I had some work to do."

“You are much in. Sir Francis’s confidence. It is rather a temptation to a young man Avith ambitions." “I trust I may never luioav any stronger temptations," I ansAvered. We talked for some little time-on general topics, a-nd then I rose to go. “Yon like Evelyn, Mr Heygate?" she said, suddenly. “Yes, very much. YV hy ?” “I thought perhaps.she was included in your ambitions. Yon should confide in an old woman, Mr Heygate. You have no idea how useful an old woman can be.” The nurse followed me out of the room to put some dirty cups on the table which stood in the corridor. There was no need

for tile servants to disturb the invalid then. I was very tired and went straight to my- own room. Mrs Armstrong's remark about Evelyn was sufficient to make me forget my dream in the library, and to indulge iu a lar pleasanter speculation. Was it possible tfiat I had misjudged Aunt Caroline? Had she seen that I was in iove with Evelyn., and was willing to help me? Something like hope closed ray tired eyes, and I feel into a dreamless sleep. Breakfast was usually a merry meal at Stour Park. We invariably met in the best of spirits and with good healthy appetites. As a rule Sir Francis smoked a cigar and glanced leisurely through some of his letters before going to toe library. This morning, however, he did not do so. Tie got up directly he had finished.

“I shall not want you for an hour, Keygate," he said, as he left the room. “I am sorry you were not at the concert last night," Evelyn said, as soon, as her father had gone. “I sang very nice“l have no doubt of that. I am sorry I was not there. 1 did nob spend a very satisfactory evening." “Wa s Aunt Caroline so very unpleasant? I hear you went in to see her." “On the contrary, she, was very gracious. The unpleasant pa,yt came earlier. I fancy I fell asleep over my work." “So those very important papers did not get looked through after all," she said, laughing. “They were very important, were they not?" “Yes, rather." “You said Very' last night when you did not want to come and heau me song. Captain Denton inquired alter you.'' “That was exeedingly gracious of him," I answered. She looked at me quickly, struck, I suppose, by the irritated manner in which I spoke. “You do not seem to appreciate Captain Denton. That is strange, since everybody likes him so much." “Perhaps that is' the reason." “But surely he did not keep you away from the concert?" “It can be of no interest to you, Miss Gillian." “Gh, but it is. I am always terribly interested in my neighbour’s business. Did he keep you away ?" “Partly." “Why?" “I think you had better not press for an answer to that question," I said. “After all, I daresay I am foolish in not liking Captain Denton just as everybody else does. I suppose I am small-minded enough to be a little jealous." That rougisli smile played upon her lips and almost maddened me. Would it be well to confide in Aunt Caroline ? “You are foolish to be jealous," she said, rising from the table. "Am I? If you only knew ." I was interrupted, fortunately, perhaps, by the entrance of a servant.

“Sir Francis would like to see you at once, sir, in the library." “What a, short hour!" said Evelyn. “The papers must have been very important after all, and you will have to work doubly hard to-day for going to sleep last night." I smiled as I left the room. What did Evelyn mean by saying it was foolish to be jealous of Captain Denton? I found many possible and pleasant meanings in the words before I opened the library door.

Sir Francis Avas standing by his desk at the far end of the room, and I seav at once that something Avas Avrong. “Did you finish those papers last night ?" he asked. Avichout looking at me.

“No, Sir Francis. I believe I fell asleep over them.” I put my hand into my pocket as I spoke. “I ha\re left my keys upstairs; I Avill go and get them.” “You may save yourself the trouble,” he ansAvered, looking at me; “they are here. I'ou left them on the table last night—by mistake." He paused before the last tAvo Avords and laid particular stress upon them. “What is wrong, Sir Francis.” “Those are your keys?" I took the bunch. “Yes—but ."

“When did I give you a key that fits this desk —that key, sir, the one you have in your hand now ?" He spoke sternly, th© first time he had ever done so to me.

I looked at it. Possibly I changed colour a little. “Never, Sir Francis." “When and Avhere did you have it made, then r" “Made!” “There should be only one key, here it is on my bunch. When did you have that duplicate made ?” “Never!" I answered indignantly. “When I locked this desk yesterday,” Sir Francis went on, “there were certain documents in this pigeon-hole of the very gravest importance. This morning they are gone. I have.already ascertained that you did not leave the house last night, and I have sent for the police.” “Surely, Sir Francis, you are not accusing me of stealing them ?” “Those are you keys, are they not?” “That particular key Avas not on my hunch last night.” “Should I be likely to put it on, Mr Heygate?” «. “Should I be likely to steal, Sir Francis ?”

He shrugged his shoulders in disbelief. Last night in the library! I had forgotten it. Noav it all came back to me. The thin fingers holding the door, and the face so like Aunt Caroline's.' Hoav like a dream it appeared hoav. “Something did happen last night, Sir Francis, but until this moment I thought I liad dreamt it.” “I am ready to hear anything you have to say," he ansAvered. I told. him Avhat had occurred last night, and of my subsequent visit to Mrs Armstrong. When 1 had finished be looked at me for some moments Arithout speaking. “I suppose you are aAvare that Mrs Armstrong cannot leave her room ?" “I do not say it was Mrs Armstrong; F say it Avas like her." “Your fertile brain might have trumped up a better story than that.”

“I have told you the truth, Sir Frail-

cig/^ “You~ai*e telliug a lie, sir, in the attempt to hide a theft.” My tale must have sounded absurd. Possibly it was its absurdity which made Sir Francis so ready to disbelieve me. The door opened as he spoke, and Evelyn entered. * “Father.”

“What do you want, dear? I am busy.” She did not answer. She looked from one to the other of us, showing plainly that she had heard her father’s words. I broke the silence. “I do not mind Miss Gillian knowing of what I am accused, Sir Francis " “You may tell her the miserable story, sir, if you think fit.” I told her- “ What papers are they which are missing?” she asked. "I do not know," I said. “I make no secret of the fact that they contained important information—information which would be worth much to our enemies on the Continent and iu South Africa.” “I do not believe Mr Heygate stole them." "You know nothing about it, Evelyn. There is the duplicate key, the papers are gone, and Ala- Heygate, .for no very good reason, stayed at home last night." 9 “I know Air Heygate, father, and lie is incapable of such a thing." There, was no gmilo upon her face now. but never had slio appeared more beautiful, in my eyes. Eveu Sir Francis seemed impressed with her belief in me. “One thing I believe I do know; Mr Heygate had a veiry good reason for staying away from the concert last night.’" My heart leaped within me. Could she have understood me this morning? Was that what she meant? “Air Heygate has a powerful advocate,” said Sir Francis, slowly. “Perhaps you also believe that your aunt is capable of getting out of bed and coming down here. Air Heygate’s story casts such a suspicion on your aunt, remember." “I could believe that sooner than believe Mr Heygate guilty of theft." “The thing is important. Perhaps we had better see Airs Armstrong." “The doctor is with her now,” said Evelyn. “An excellent time for our visit,"- was the answer. “We will all go." Sir Francis fully believed me guilty, and I fancy he thought he would play upon my better nature in this way. I followed him out of the room without a word. The doctor was just descending the stairs. /‘Good morning, doctor," said Sir Francis. “AVe are just going to pay your patient a visit. It will not hurt her. I suppose?" * “On the contrary, it will do ner good. She is better, much better. I have been telling her this morning that as soon as we get a little fine weather she ought to be moved to some quiet little place abroad. I think it might work a miracle for her.” “I am glad of that. Tell me, doctor, . can Alr s Armstrong walk at all at par&sent ?”

“Not at all; but in time she will. I think.” The doctor took up his liar. I hardly know what made me say it; it must have been a sudden inspiration. “Dnder the circumstances, Sir Francis, don’t you think it would be well if Dr Furnival waited until —until you are satisfied ?” “Until when, sir?” said the doctor- “ For half an hour, doctor,” I said. “Certainly not, sir; my time is precious. Good morning, Sir Francis.” Sir Francis did not speak. I placed myself in front of the doctor. “It is purely a matter of form,” I said. “Sir Francis has given orders that qo one 19 to leave the house until tiie police arrive. It is impossible for you to go, Dr Furnival, until then.” “Sir Francis, I appeal to you.” For one moment I thought I should be ordered to stand aside, but the doctor's face had changed colour strangely, and Sir Francis noticed it. “Air Heygate is right,” he said. “Duty to my country compels me to detain you, doctor; a mere matter of form, of course, but .” “As you will, although I very strongly protest against such treatment.” he said. “I may as well spend the time talking to my patient.” He turned towards the stairs as we all did. He stood aside to let Sir Evelyn pass, and waited for Sir Francis. It was cleverly done. I was the only one behind him. Quick as thought he turned and struck at me. I was quit© unprepared, and reeled back against the wall. In a moment he had the door open, and might have made good his escape had not a police officer come up to the door that moment. The papers were found upon him, anl, since deception was useless, Mrs Armstrong confessed to stealing them. She had come to Stou r Park for that purpose, and both the nurse and the doctor were in league with her. Airs Armstrong could walk as well as I could. All three were deeply interested in tiie agitation? against England regarding affairs in South Africa, and they had rightly argued that, sooner or later, valuable information could be stolen from Sir Francis Gillian. The opportunity had only come last night. Believing that I. had gone to the concert, Mrs Armstrong went to the library, just as I had seen her come. After the nurse had seen me go to my own room Mrs Armstrong Avent down again, took the papers, and slipped the key cm my bunch. It A\ r as an excellent opportunity for getting rid of me. She had found me in her Avay many times, and there would be other valuable information to steal in the future. As a traitress to her country she Avas doubtless genuine, but by nature she was a bitter and envious woman. Sn© may have found real personal pleasure in ruining Sir Francis's career, for, if she had succeeded as fully as she hoped to do, slio certainly would have ruined, him politically. ' Sir Francis's apology to me was full and ample, aiid paved the way for an interAdeAV I had Avitli him some little while afterwards. It followed upon a conversation I had with Evelyn one evening after dinner. “Do yon remember the day father sent for you in such a hurry?” she said. She had been singing, and we were alone in th 0 draAving-roonu

"I am never likely to forget it.” “We were intermpted while we were talking about the concert and Captain Denton. You said--'lf you only knew--, and then the servant What were you going to say?” “Need I tell you, Evelyn? “I think you must.” . I took both her hands m mine and looked into her eyes. She understood, and in her eyes I read my answer.