TALES AND SKETCHES.

South Canterbury Times, Issue 3145, 20 July 1901, Page 1 (Supplement)

TALES AND SKETCHES.

THE RESEARCHES OF MR

wROZIER.

(By ADELINE SERGEANT.) Author of “ The Story of a Penitent Soul,” etc.

I was surprised that no one had met me at the little wayside station on a branch from the main line at which I had been instructed to alight-; nether passenger nor conveyance of any sort haa appeared on the scene, and the one fly belonging to the village inn had been' secured only witlr some delay and difficulty. My aunt had inv.ted me to the house, and she might have had the corlrtesy' to send someone to meet me.

As the fly rumbled slowly along the rough road, and the- deepening darkness blotted out by degrees all details of the landscape, I settled myself into the corner, and aliriost marvelled' why I had come so far on what might be a fool’s errand after all. But I was poor, a-struggling young doctor with a few friends and sombre prospects; I had no right to throw away a single chance which premised anything for the future.

I had received some time -previously a letter from a highly respectable firm of so-licitors-which informed me that toeir client, Miss- Catherine Desmond, the owner of Scarthw-aite ■ Hall, and ■ some- property in Cumberland, had reason to think that I was a relation of hers, and since she had few kinsfolk living, she would be glad to know something of my-family-history, and if I turned out-to be s a connection of-hers, to make-my acquaintance. The ■ solicitor s letter ebneuded with' the recommendation to me not to- -neglect this opportunity, of making'myself known to the lady. It was easy enough to discover the links of'relationship between Miss Desmond and myself. My mother’s name had been Desmond, and she was Miss Catherine Des: mond’s niece. She had quarreiltd with her family when’ she had married my father, and her early death had left me- without much information - abouther relations. It seemed-‘c.ear, however, that AI -Desmond was my great aunt, and I felt myself justified in accepting her invitation to stay with her a few days at Scarthwaite Hal.; Hence mv journey from London, and my arrival at" the little station. five miles away from her house at the close of the day. Suddenly* the cab drew- up with a jerk. I‘beard w sound of wheels, and look ng out ! • saw the outline -of a horse and vehicle, with high, flashing, lamps drawn up alongside of cur owhrwhile a fresh 1 gir :ish voice rang out upon the .still November air. “Is a gentleman- from London in your fly, John Carstairs?” and . the old flyman mode answer in a mumbling voice - “Aye, Missy, that he be.” I’ was out in the road before he had finished, for it was evident that the question referred to myself, and lifting my hat I addressed the almost invisible speaker.

“I am. Fillip Stanfield on my way to Scarthwaite Hall;” “ Oh, that’s all right,” came toe cheerful answer, “ there was a mistake about your train, or I should hare met you at the station. Do you prefer your fly, or will you mount up here in the dogcart? * “ lie dogcart, by all means,” I replied. “ Then Carstadrs will come after us with the luggage. Oan you see the step? Thats all right.° We shall be home half an hour before the fly.” . ~ As well as I eotuld make out in the dim lio-ht, - the speaker who was driving was both young and pretty. Her voice was sweet and yet determ ned ; it sounded as though its owner possessed a wi.l of her owDj but at the same- time a- bright and cheerful disposition. I was surprised to find that she had no groom with her, but she seemed perfectly capable of managing the spirited mare that she was driving.

“I am so sorry,” she began, “you must have thought us very inhospitable, but the fact was my aunt and I did not know that vour train would be in so soon. She is my great aunt as yours, you know,’ she went o-n. ** I am Dorothy Desmond, the daughter of her nephew, and you are the son of one of her nieces, I beGeve, so we are second cuusins.” “I did not know until a short time ago that I had a relative in the world,” I answefed. “It is delightful to find that I am not so lonely as. I supposed.” “ I suppcise we are the last of the family;"’ said Dorothy, as we drove slowly along the road. “ Aunt Catherine is growing very infirm, and—you must not mind if°l say it to you in confidence —she is sometimes a little eccentric. I wanted to say this to you before you met her, and that was why I drove to the station. “ I telegraphed from Euston,” I observed. “Yes,” sbe said, in a rather peculiar tone, and then paused as if she did not know whether to go on or not. Then with sudden decision The telegram was mislaid* before I actually saw it, and my aunt’s memory is not to be depended on. I don’t knod' whether I am right, but I think I ought perhaps to give you a hint, Mr Stansfield—oh, well,” as I made a sound of remonstrance—“ Cousin Philip, if you like —but you have an enemy in the house. I think-he didn’t want me to meet you, and 1 hats was why the telegram was mislaid. I need not say any more. I am sure you will' understand.”

I didn’t understand exactly, but there was something in the unwonted hurry and agitation of her voice that betrayed some fear of the man of whom she spoke. She didn’t explain herself more particularly, and I didn’t like to inquire, but I wondered in my own heart whether it was doctor, priest or servant of some kind that had established a right to interfere in my aunt’s concerns, and whether I had been summoned as a sort of knight-errant to do battle' in her behalf. I felt sure of one thing—that I was quite ready to do” battle en behalf of my cousin Dorothy. We talked upon irrelevant mat tens until we reached the house, which was a great irregular mansion looming blackly against the darkened skv.

The door was thrown open as we arrived, and the tall lanky figure of a man, whom I took to be the upper servant, came down the steps towards us. His clinging attitude as he .stood beside the dogcart, and his habit of nervously rubbing his long white hards together, gave him a pecul ariy servile air; therefore I gathered bis position was not exactly what I had at first supposed.

"I am sure I am glad to see you back safely, Miss Dorothy," lie began, with a faint snigger, which made me hate the man, “for you ran considerable risk in your anxiety to meet this gentleman.” “ No risk at all, thank you,” said Dorothy calmly. “ Let me introduce Mr Crozier to you, cousin Philip. Mr Crozier is my aunt's librarian and secretary.”

Mr Crozier sniggered a little more, bowed profoundly, and wagged his head deprecatingly. “A student—-a student,” he said apologetically—“ a lover of old books—of. old history—of old records. I shall be happy to show Mr Stansfield some of my recent discoveries in the library—very happy. We must do all we can to make Mr Stansfield’s stay agreeable.” “I daresay Mr Stansfield can manage to do that for himself," said Dorothy with extraordinary sharpness; then she gave the reins to a man who had appeared out of the darkness, and accepted my hand to help her down. The house seemed to be of fine stature, with remains of old magnificence, but I had no time to inspect it curiously, for I was hurried down by Dorothy to the presence of my aunt. Miss Desmond was a woman of advanced age, a great invalid, and entirely crippled. I was told that she had been beautiful, but her yellow wrinkled face, and her sunken hawk-dike ;eyes weie now anything but attractive. She greeted me with fair cordiality, but put some searching questions to me abolit my antecedents even in the first in-’ terview. I could gather that she wanted to be perfectly certain of my relationship to her before she attempted any show of confidence.

Finally she intimated that the interview was over, and committed me to the care

of Mr Crozier, who had been present while iUe conversation was go ng on, but had kept himself strictly in the background. "Air Croz/er will look after you,” said my aunt, rather -nervously. “Yon will mak: friends, I hope, ami be companions to each other.” Crozier looked with a furtive eye, and nibbed his hands together. I liked the lo.k of him less than ever in the glow of the drawing-room lamps. He- was thin and cadaverous-looking, his smooth, b.ack hair was closely plastered to his head, and when be tried to smile his thin lips were drawn over such an array of big, strong, yellow teeth, that his face was that of adeath’s head rather than of a living man. I went to my room, which was cheery and com r ortable, and wondered to myself what sort of visit 1 was l.kely to have if I were to be banded over to the companionship pf Mr Crozier, whose countenance impressed me as singularly evil and repulsive. However, there was Dorothy to talk to, Dorothy to be my friend. It was evident that she was well disposed towards me-, and that my aunt, though not affectionate, wished to treat me as one of the family- It seemed possible to me that Crozier was developing a certain jealousy of my position, lest it should in any way injure his own in the- house. It was an absurd idea, for I had no desire to interfere with him so long as he was useful to my aunt, but Dorothy had warned me that I had an enemy, and I did not think that I could be mistaken in attributing this enmity to Mr Samuel Crozier. Miss Desmond was wheeled to her place at the dinner-table in an invalid chair; at her command I took the place beside her, while Dorothy and Crozier faced each other at the sides." The meal was fairly cheerful, for Miss Desmond was an intelligent ’woman, and talked well on many subjects ; 'Dorothy was always charming, and Crozier, in spite of his unprepossessing appearance, was a mine of learning on subjects connected with historical research. Miss Desmond introduced some reference to his attainments more than once in the course of conversation, and I could not- help imagining that she betrayed a certain fear of him, and desired to conciliate his good will. To. me the man was’ absolutely insufferable, with his wolfish smile and cringing manner, and it seemed to me that he spoke to my aunt and co'uSin-in an impertinently familiar manner, while the smoothness of his behaviour to myself was tempered with evident malignity. When the meal was over it seemed one of Crozier’s duties to wheel my aunt’s chair back-to the drawing-room. I held the door open, and Dorothy lingered for a moment, on pretence of picking up her handkerchief, which she had dropped under the table, but when the chair with my aunt and her secretary was well out of the room, she turned to me with sudden swiftness, and said, in a low agitated voices— ■

“ Don’t stay with ham in the library. I have no time to tell you why—remember what I say—anywhere else, but not in the library.” then, without further explanation, she followed her aunt’s chair across the hall.

Here was a pretty puzzle indeed. Scarthwaite Hall, as the lawyers had told me, was famous for its library. It was filled with rare and curious books, collected through generations by different members of the house. It was one of the points that had’chiefly determined the acceptance of Miss Desmond’s invitation, for I, too, was a passionate lover of books, and had never been rich enough to indulge this taste. I had looked forward to exploring eyeiy recess of those richly laden shelves, and had been at first somewhat gratified to discover that it was in charge of a librarian, who. would no doubt be able to point out to me the books and manuscripts of most value, and if I. was not to sit in the library with Mr Crozier, what on earth was I to do?

For that evening, however, I was able to escape. The ladies retired early, and Crozier at once suggested that we should go to the library, where he said he usually spent his evenings, but I pleaded fatigue after my long journey, and went at once to my room. Here, in spite of the novelty of my surroundings, I slept soundly, and when I awoke at a somewhat late hour was glad to find that the grey gloc.m of the previous day had been succeeded by a flood of dazzling sunshine, in which all my doubts and suspicions looked too ridiculous to have any real basis. Soon after breakfast I was summoned to my aunt’s room, and to ray relief found her alone. She told me to sit down, and at once entered upon, an explanation of her reason for summoning me to Cumberland. She was perfectly frank and straightforward about it. She wished to make me her heir, and she also wished me to marry Dorothy. There was no beating about the bush; these were the two things on which she had set her heart, so that her two descendants should combine to raise the old house with its old estate to its former position in the country. T was certainly a little startled by the suddenness of this proposition, but I had no reluctance to. fall in with it. In fact, my heart involuntarily leaped when I thought of winning Dorothy to be my wife. It was not too' much to say that I had fallen in love with her from almost the moment of our meeting on the lonely road to Scarthwaite Hall, but ■ whether she would consent to marry me— Ah, that was to me a very different matter.

A few words from my aunt, hurriedly and nervously spoken, pat me on a fresh track of thought. “It is a little hard on Crozier,” she said. “You must promise, Philip, not to be unkind to. Crozier when you are master here. He is an invaluable man. He l is writing a book about the library, and knows more about the collection than anyone else in the world. I believe he loves it like his own soul. You couldn’t do him a worse injury than banishing him from the house, and I am sometimes afraid,” she added, a little weakly, “that I have encouraged him—in some foolish ideas. I didn’t know that I had a male relative living, and I hinted to him that he might one day have charge, not only of the library—” “ You mean that you allowed him to expect that he would inherit the place?” I asked, in stupefaction at the very idea. “To some extent,” Miss Desmond answered, apologetically. “Yon see, I didn’t know you were living, and I didn’t know what would become of Dorothy—” “ Good Heavens !” I gasped. “ Yon don’t mean that you ever held out to him the prospect of marrying Dorothy? If I were you, Aunt Catherine, I would sooner see her in her grave than married to a man like Samuel Crozier.”

My antipathy was no doubt based on an unreasoning prejudice, and yet when a- sudden gesture from my aunt and a sound at the door made me turn round, and find myself face to face with the gentleman in question, I had not the least doubt that ] was amply justified. Such an expression of scowling hate and malignity, I have seldom seen in a human countenance. He must have been listening at the door. But no sooner did I face him Ilian his mouth widened into a wolf-like smile which I especially detested. “I am sorry if I intrude,” he said, rubbing his hands together, and drooping his body from the waist in simulated humility, “ but Mr Pettigrew is here, and wishes to see Miss Desmond.”

I quitted the room at once, but I knew that Mr Pettigrew was Miss Desmond’s solicitor, and thait she was about to make her will.

Dorothy was not to be fmind. She had been sent to ihe village on some errand of charily. As 1 was alone, and had nothing to do 1 resolved to lake a look at the library, for Dorothy’s warning did not, 1 supposed, refer to a solitary visit, though why she should object to my going in company with Crazier J could not imagine. I walked .straight to the great octagonal apartment .which 1 had heard described, and was soon lost in contemplation of the books. There were various small tables and rending stands at intervals, and on these standi* huge and heavy volumes had been placed as if for relercnce or for admiration. I was at once struck by a largo volume which lay open on a stand in one of the recesses. It was evidently

i very ancient work, written and 'Tumi.uHcd* by hand, and the bright colours of hie illuminations at once allured me across ..lie room in order to examine it more closey. Ulie open pages were richly adorned with gold leaf and brilliant- colour's. t seemed to be an illuminated record of some indent romance " writ in choice Italian, and the skill with which each letter was .ormed, and the margins bedecked w.th dowers and birds excited my deepest admiration. I turned over one or two pages, and found in every page someth ng fresh to interest mo. Once or twice I fancied that the pages clung rather closely together, and I was conscious of a slight but pleasant odour which seemed to come from the ancient hook ; an odour so unusual that I bent my head to inhale it more closely, and even examined the printing with unusual care in order to ascertain whence it arose.

But the brilliance of the illuminations on the page, or perhaps the glare of the sun through the window seemed to suddenly dazzle me. The odour grew overpoweringly strong • it seemed to suffocate me for ,i minute or two, and I fell back gasping into the nearest chair, but in a minute 1 recovered, and laughed at the little attack of vertigo which had overpowered me so unexpectedly. I attempted to rise in order ’to pursue my investigations hut a strange pain seemed to shoot through my heart, a heavy drowsiness pressed upon my eyes, and room, book, and sunshine alike, whirled round me in confusion. 1 was almost certain that- for the moment I saw the white face of Crozier glaring at me through the darkness, then it vanished and I saw it no more, but with, a sudden desire to restore my equ.librium, I started up, and .tried to support myself by clutching at the nearest object. Something I seized, something I wrestled with, I knew not what—something that fought with me and tried to press me down to the earth ; then came a crash, as if something beside me had fallen, and a woman’s cry re-echoed loudly through the room. Then darkness fell upon me, and I knew no more.

When I recovered consciousness, I was lying in my own room, and a nurse was sitting 0 beside the bed. I found myself too weak to question her, almost too weak to •understand how I came there, or why it was that my hands were so transparently thin, and my bodily weakness so great, but by-and-bye Dorothy came into the room and my thoughts flew back to the mysterious scene in the library, to her warning, and to the mysterious consequences which seemed to have followed upon my visit to the forbidden room. I faltered out a word or two of inquiry, but some days elapsed before she thought it well to let me know the history of that day. She had been returning from her errand in the village, when she passed the librarywindows and perceived to her horror the figures of two men struggling together ;n desperate conflict. In my blind delirium—for such it was I was wrestling with Crozier, who in ins turn was trying to bear me to the ground. The reading-stand with the book upon it fell with a crash to the floor, inclining towards us in its fall so as to bring our struggle to a conclusion, Crozier slipped and fell undermost, with bis face on the pages of the volume, while I slipped backward from his grasp and lay unconscious on the floor. It was Dorothy’s cry for help that had floated to my ear the moment before 1 bad become unconscious. Servants flocked to her help, a doctor was summoned, and I was earned to my room. I there remained unconscious for some time, then became delirious, and ultimately was pronounced out of danger, but to everybody’s astonishment, when 'Grazier's inanimate form was moved, and his face lifted from the strangely-perfumed pages of the book on which it laid, he was found to be dead.

Dorothy alone was able to clear up the mystery. Crozier had aroused her suspicion by his conversation, in which he had recounted the discoveries he had made concerning the poisons that had been so very much, used in mediaeval times, when death could be conveyed through the pages of a book, the smelling of a. rose, or the wearing of a scented glove. She believed that he was capable of reviving the old arts, and, indeed, lie had once or twice given her proofs of his powers as applied to animals. The illuminated volue which she knew well by sight, had once belonged to a member of the house of Borgia, and there were some strange stories connected with the use to which its perfumed pages had been put. She suspected a trap for me when she saw the book so carefully displayed in the library, and had meant to tell me about it before I visited the spot, as-she knew full well that Crozier was full of deadly hatred against me, and she believed him perfectly capable of committing any crime in order to get me out of the way. But he had been caught in his own trap. He had endeavoured to force me down more closely to the poisoned pages of the book, which had not yet done all their deadly work upon me, but his own fall with that of the reading stand, had brought himnnder its influence in his turn, and by the time help came he was beyond recovery. Dorothy’s own knowledge of the means that had to be employed in such a case were tried upon him in vain, but were >uccessinl in my own case, and through her assistance and gentle nuroing I gradually recovered my health and strength, so that f was able to carry out my aunt’s designs to chat lady’s perfect satisfaction, and certainly to my own.

Also I hope, to the satisfaction o! Dorothy, my wife.