CHAPTER XIII. MR. RICHARD SURPRISES CHRIS.
At the first moment of finding herself alone with the madman, Chris gave herself up for lost; for he carried in his hand a formidable weapon—the table leg with which he had provided himself before leaving his rooms. He did not, however, brandish it in the air, and then bring it down upon her head, as, in the first impulse of terror, she had fully expected.
So paralysed with fright was she, indeed, that she shut her eyes, flinching under the expected blow. For she was standing with her back against the little stage, with him in front of her, so that escape seemed out of the question.
As the blow did not come, she opened her eyes and looked up; and involuntarily, at the sight of Mr. Richard’s face, she uttered an exclamation.
For he did not look ferocious or frenzied. He was regarding her with just the expression of surprise and shy admiration which she might have seen on the face of any other man of her acquaintance in the circumstances. The only difference was that he did not, as another man would have done, make any apologies. He stood looking at Chris as if she had been a divinity; and she began to hope that she would be able to persuade him, with very little trouble, to let her out. Indeed, if it had not been for her vivid remembrance of the paroxysm of rage into which she had seen him fall, on the occasion when he had flung a missile at her through the window, she would have been absolutely without any fear of him at all, so greatly did his melancholy face and gentle manners outweigh with her the reports of his violence. He was so quiet, that for her to assume a conciliatory manner was easy.
“May I have my lantern, please?” she asked, holding out her hand, and still keeping her eyes rather watchfully fixed upon his face.
Bus he did not understand her, although he looked eagerly into her face, as if trying to do so. Chris began to feel more nervous. She looked towards the door and tried again.
“Won’t you, please, unlock the door, and let me go out?” she said, emphasising her request by shyly touching the great key which was swinging from his hand by the piece of rough string attached to its handle.
To her great relief, his face lighted up, and he nodded. She began instantly to move in the direction of the great barn door, and he followed her very quietly. She had just fear enough left, on hearing his footsteps behind her, to turn and wait for him, so that he might walk by her side. This, however, rendered their progress very slow, for he moved with such languid or unwilling steps, that it seemed to her half an hour before they reached the end of the barn.
The attempts at conversation which she made to relieve the awkwardness of the situation were, however, not very successful.
The first remark she made, which was upon the weather, elicited no reply whatever from Mr. Richard. Then she turned towards him, and asked in very distinct and deliberate tones whether he had ever been in the barn before. She thought he seemed to understand the question, and that the shake of the head he gave was his answer. But still he uttered no word.
When they had come near the door, Mr. Richard stumbled, his feet having been caught in a tangle of old rope and sacking which lay upon the floor. The key fell from his hand. He did not appear to notice this, however, although Chris heard the loud clang with which it touched the brick floor.
“You have dropped the key,” she said, as he walked on.
As he took no notice still, she went down on her knees, groping among the rubbish with which the place was strewn. He turned, and seemed to look at her with surprise. But he did not ask her what she was looking for.
“It’s the key. Don’t you see you have dropped the key?” she cried, her alarm again roused by this apparently wilful obtuseness. “Please let me have the lantern one moment.”
To her horror, he began to utter the strange sounds which she had sometimes heard issuing from the east wing, and she was so much shocked, that she instinctively put up her hands to her ears, while her face assumed an expression of the utmost terror. Then Mr. Richard fell into sudden silence. For a few seconds he stood looking at her as she knelt on the ground; then he seated himself on an empty wine-case which was among the lumber, put his head in his hands, and heaved a deep sigh.
At that moment, Chris caught sight of the key, which had fallen behind a little heap of tins which had once contained tobacco. In snatching it up she knocked it against one of the tins, making a great clatter. But the noise appeared not to disturb the madman, who did not even look up when Chris rose to her feet, although she trod on some ends of board and set them rattling. She feared he was only pretending to be unobservant, and that she should not be able to get to the door before he made the attack upon her which his mysterious conduct led her to expect.
She must, however, make the attempt and trust to her luck. She began by taking two or three cautious steps; and then, when she was close to him, she set off at a run. But she had hardly done so when he started up and, uttering another of the weird cries which so much alarmed her, came in pursuit, and reached the door as soon as she did.
Not all her self-command could help poor Chris to stifle the scream which she had suppressed before. And then, remembering that after all her screams were her best chance of escape, as the stable was so near that one of the men might hear them, she put her mouth to the keyhole of the door, and called loudly for help.
At once Mr. Richard put his hand over her mouth. For a moment she could not move, she could not even try to cry out again. Remembering his savage fury on the day when he had thrown the goblet out of the window, she gave herself up for lost, believing that he would dash her down senseless upon the hard floor. For a long time, as it seemed to her, though it was really the work of a few seconds, he kept one hand upon her mouth, and held both her hands with the other. He uttered from time to time a curious sound, which was more like a low moan of distress than a cry of fury, and though he held her so that it was impossible for her to escape, she could not even fancy that he hurt her.
Her first impulse had been to shut her eyes; but when she found that she had so far come to no harm in the hands of the lunatic, she ventured to open them, and was instantly struck by the expression of his face, which was infinitely sad, infinitely wistful, but absolutely mild and kind.
In the position in which they stood, he could see the door of the barn, while she could not. She had had only just time to realise that Mr. Richard had no present intention of harming her, when she saw his eyes glance quickly from her face to the door, while at the same time she heard a slight noise behind her.
The next instant she found herself free, and looking round quickly to find out the reason of this, she saw Mr. Bradfield’s face just as he, after looking in at the door, withdrew his head quickly.
With another of the ear-piercing cries which could only proceed from a madman, Mr. Richard rushed to the door, which was locked on the other side before he could reach it. He hurled himself against the door, then turned quickly to Chris, and took the key from her hand. He did not do it roughly, however, even in his excitement, but gave her a deprecatory look, as if asking her permission.
Then it came into the girl’s mind, by an extraordinary flash of inspiration, born of intense excitement, that she had some power over this wild and dangerous man, and that this was a time to use it. She seemed to see in the same moment, first that he wanted to do some harm to Mr. Bradfield, and secondly, that her influence might be able to dissuade him from his purpose. So she put out her hand again for the key, as she ran after him to the door. He was already trying to put it into the lock.
“No, no!” she said eagerly, looking up into his face with eyes which looked sweet in their pleading even by the weak light of the lantern which he had snatched up again from the floor. “No. You are not to try to hurt Mr. Bradfield. Now promise me you won’t. Please, please promise!”
The effect of her entreaty was instantaneous. Mr. Richard’s hand fell down by his side; the expression of his face changed from one of fierce excitement to one of pleasure, and even of tenderness. Still he said no word; and Chris, perplexed and rendered shy by his abrupt change of manner, drew back a step, and looked down. With the key in the door, she was no longer afraid. Besides, had not Mr. Bradfield seen her? And although he had most unaccountably refrained from at once releasing her from her perilous tête-à-tête with the madman, he would surely send some one else to do so, if he was too much afraid of Mr. Richard to do it himself.
Not that she was in any hurry to be released. She could not help taking a strong interest in this unhappy man, who, even in his mad frenzy, stopped short of harming her, nay, even became gentle, in the midst of his fury, at a word from her. Believing as she did, that more might be done for him than had been done, in the way of lifting the cloud which hung over his mind, she began to ask herself, as she stood there, whether it would not be possible for her to help him to escape from the confinement in which he was kept, to some place where he would have the medical supervision which she was sure that his case demanded. As this thought crossed her mind, she glanced up again at Mr. Richard, who was leaning against the wall, and looking at her with eyes in which it seemed to her that there was every moment less of madness and more of an emotion which it touched while it alarmed her to see there. She instantly made up her mind to try and help him.
Approaching him with some shyness, and taking care, without appearing to do so, to keep the door well in sight, she asked, in a gentle and persuasive voice, speaking in a very slow and deliberate manner, so that he might understand her:
“Will you tell me, Mr. Richard, have you any friends you wish to go to?”
He watched her face intently, and she felt sure that he understood her perfectly. A look of deeper sadness came into his face as he shook his head.
“Why, then, do you want to escape?”
Although he said nothing in answer, Chris thought he understood this question also. For his face, which was singularly expressive, instantly clouded with a dark and angry look. It occurred to Chris that the objects of his anger were the people who kept him in confinement. She knew that mad people are credited with this feeling, and, indeed, Mr. Richard had given very strong proofs of it.
Being rather alarmed, in spite of herself, by the sudden change which came over his face at her last question, she drew back a step, turning towards the door. He followed her, and took her left hand, which was nearest to him, very gently in his, and by a little gesture, eloquent, though silent, entreated her not to go yet. Chris began to tremble, not with fear, but with pity. The expression of this poor fellow seemed to her one of eloquent entreaty. Knowing, as she did, that he would soon be back in the gloomy confinement of the east wing, she had not the heart to leave him, as she rightly judged that he would have let her do, if she had insisted.
Still, deep as one’s sympathy may be, it is an embarrassing thing to find oneself locked up with a madman, and Chris found it hard to make conversation for a person who never replied to her, except by nods and shakings of the head, or by puzzled signs that she was not understood.
In this dilemma, she could not but be glad when at last she heard footsteps outside. After trying the door, and finding it locked from within, the newcomer having provided himself with a ladder from the stables, entered the hay-loft at the top of the barn, and put his face through the trap above their heads.
It was Stelfox.
At the sight of this man, Mr. Richard made at once for the door. But Stelfox came down the ladder which led from the loft with surprising agility, and seizing the gentleman by the arm, proceeded to struggle with him. But Mr. Richard was more than his match, and he threw Stelfox off, and again made for the door.
“Stop him, miss. For his own sake, stop him if you can,” cried Stelfox to Chris, who was standing near the door, watching the struggle with much anxiety.
She at once ran forward and lightly put her hand on Mr. Richard’s arm. As Stelfox had expected, this was enough. It gave him time to approach Mr. Richard from behind, to seize his arms, and to bind them together in such a way that the madman was helpless.