Chapter Thirty Eight.
New Mortar.
They hurried to the door as soon as they had recovered from the first shock.
“Look here, sir,” said George, “what shall we do about the dog?”
“Ah, I forgot him. It would be too horrible to let him get into the room where the poor fellow is. Yes, poor fellow! De mortuis, et cetera. Come along, Mr Blank, and we’ll lock the dog in here for a few hours.”
“Good idea,” was the reply; and the outer door of the cellar was locked upon Bruno, who made no attempt to follow; but when they reached the study door, all was perfectly still, and upon George’s turning the handle softly, the doctor quickly raised his head and gave them a nod.
“Got it?” he said. “I’ll have mine here.”
“How is Mr Saul?” said the old lawyer in a trembling voice.
“Unchanged. He will have another paroxysm, though, when the effects of the medicine pass off.”
“Doctor Lawrence,” said George quickly, as he gazed searchingly in the old man’s eyes, “are not these symptoms very similar to those which would occur if a man had been bitten by a savage or mad dog?”
“Almost identical, sir,” said the old doctor. “But Mr Saul assured me that the wound was not a bite, but an abrasure that had gone bad, consequent upon ignorant treatment by a foreign doctor, and was poisoning the blood.”
“Thank you, sir,” said the young man gravely; and as soon as the lawyer had replaced the keys, they quietly left the room, and were on their way to prepare the hot spirit and water, when they stopped short, and Mr Hampton grasped his companion’s arm, as from the cellar, sounding smothered and strange, there came the low howl of the dog.
“We must stop that,” said the lawyer excitedly. “I don’t think I’m at all superstitious, but when you know a patient is in a dangerous state, it is too horrible to have a dog uttering those blood-curdling howls.”
“It does not sound pleasant,” said George thoughtfully.
“Stop a moment; I know,” whispered Mr Hampton; and he went down the passage, and unhooked a baize door fastened back against the wall, the effect being that the sound was deadened, though not destroyed.
“That must do for the present,” he said. “I dread our having another scene with that brute.”
“Is he always as savage and fierce as I saw him?” asked George.
“Oh, dear, no. As a rule the quietest and most docile of animals, but he never seems to have liked Saul Harrington.”
“Is anything the matter?” said a voice in a low whisper, and they found that Gertrude had come softly down the stairs, and that Mrs Hampton was looking over the balustrade.
“No, nothing is wrong,” said George hastily.
“But I heard Bruno howling. Yes: there it is again.”
George explained the reason, and after a few moments’ conversation they were about to return upstairs when, in spite of the closed doors, the dog’s howl came in a deep, low, thrilling tone, and directly after he began to bark in a deep utterance that seemed to vibrate through the house.
“He’ll set that young fellow off again,” said George Harrington sharply. “I’ll try and get him back to the stable.”
“I’ll come and help you,” said Gertrude quietly.
“No; the animal developed such strange ferocity that I don’t think it is safe.”
“Safe? Bruno would not hurt me,” said Gertrude, with a smile.
“Not intentionally, perhaps; but leave him to me.”
There was so much decision in the request—a request which almost sounded like an order, that Gertrude, hardly knowing why, gave way at once, and returned with Mrs Hampton to their room, while in company with the lawyer, George Harrington went back to the cellar door, just within which they could hear the dog snuffing, and every now and then uttering his uneasy whine, followed by a howl.
“What is it, my lad?” said George, with his mouth to the key-hole.
The effect was magical, for the dog seemed to raise himself up against the door, barking wildly, and then they could hear him scratching away the sawdust.
“Lie down, old chap! Lie down, Bruno!” cried George.
There was at this another sharp burst of barking, as if the dog was excitedly striving to get out.
“Shut that baize door, sir,” said George; “and then we must get him out, and back to the stable. He’ll worry the doctor’s patient to death.”
The key was brought forth, and George proceeded to open the door.
“Do you think there’s any danger?” whispered the old lawyer.
“Not a bit.”
“But he seems so savage.”
“Not with me,” said George, as he threw open the door. “Here, Bruno!” he cried.
The dog bounced out, and for the moment it seemed to Mr Hampton that he was about to attack the young man, for he rose on his hind legs, and placed his paws breast-high, barking furiously.
“Come, come; what’s the matter?” said George, seizing him with both hands by the collar. “Don’t you like to be shut up there. Some folks would; eh, sir?”
“I don’t think the brute is safe,” said Mr Hampton. “Pray get him out.”
“Yes, I’ll take him to the stable. Now, Bruno, old chap. Will you lock that door, sir?”
George Harrington had to speak loudly, for the dog was keeping up his excited bark, and mingling it with whines; but the moment the old lawyer moved towards the door the animal dropped down on all fours, shook himself free, and dashed back into the wine-cellar.
“Come out, sir!” cried the lawyer. “I thought he didn’t like the place?”
“Here—Bruno, Bruno!”
The dog responded with a sharp, angry bark, evidently from some distance.
“Oh, I see what it is; he can smell rats.”
“But we can’t have him making that noise in the middle of the night.”
“Come out, sir!” cried George, entering the cellar and calling the dog, who came bounding towards him; but as an effort was made to seize his collar, he sprang round and dashed back.
“Give me the candle, Mr Hampton.”
“No,” said the old man; “you’ll want both hands to him. I’ll light you, or you’ll think I’m a terrible coward. I’m not used to dogs.”
He looked smilingly in his companion’s face, and went to the front.
“I know the cellar better than you do, sir. Good heavens, dog?”
The lawyer and the light were both nearly upset, for as he moved forward Bruno literally rushed at him, but only to turn again and run back right into the depths of the cellar.
“Here, Bruno! Come here, sir!” cried George sternly. “We don’t want to go ratting now.”
But the dog paid no heed to the call, and went on barking furiously, while the next minute they reached the spot where he stood with his head outstretched, making the place echo.
“Come here, you old stupid!” said George good-humouredly; and, taking hold of the dog’s collar with one hand, he patted his head with the other. “Now, then, we don’t want to find rats. Come along.”
The dog looked up in his face, whined, and then swung round and going to the blank patch of whitewashed wall, threw up his head and howled.
“Yes, it must be rats,” said the old lawyer, “behind that bricked-up part. Try and drive him out.”
George Harrington turned sharply on the lawyer.
“Bricked-up part?” he said.
“Yes, there’s another cellar there through that arch, where old Mr Harrington laid down a quantity of wine for his grandson. Well, what is it? Yes; that’s the place.”
George had snatched the candle, and gone to the wall to hold the light close to the whitewashed bricks.
As he did so the dog grew more uneasy and excited, looking from one to the other, and barking at the wall.
“Well?” said the old lawyer, as his companion turned sharply and looked him full in the eyes.
“You said you did not understand dogs, Mr Hampton?”
“No, not a bit; but I think we ought to get this noisy brute out of the house.”
“I do understand them a little,” said George excitedly. “Mr Hampton, there’s something wrong here.”
“What do you mean?”
“You say that is a bricked-up part of the cellar?”
“Yes; the old man did it for his heir.”
“And it has never been opened since?”
“Of course not.”
George looked at the brickwork again, scanning it very narrowly with the candle close to the wall.
“Yes, it has,” he said, taking out his knife, and trying the mortar between the bricks, and then the other parts. “This mortar is comparatively soft.”
“Dampness of the place.”
“Newness of the mortar, sir. That dog, by his wonderful instinct, knows that something is wrong behind here.”
“Then he’s a precious clever dog if he does, that’s all I can say, because if you are right that inner cellar has been robbed and carefully built up again.”
“This cellar has certainly been opened, sir, and built up again,” said George, drawing his breath with a peculiar hiss as a curious suspicion seemed to flash through the dark parts of his brain.
Meanwhile the dog had watched every movement in silence, but only to grow excited again and stand barking.
“I’m of opinion,” said the old lawyer dogmatically, “that Bruno smells a rat, and that you have discovered a mare’s nest. Why, hang it, man, don’t look at me in that ghastly manner. What’s the matter?”
“I don’t know, sir, but I have a horrible suspicion.”
“Good heavens! My dear young friend, what do you mean?”
“I may be wrong, sir, but look at that dog.”
“Yes, I believe he is going mad.”
“I do not, sir. He has made a discovery.”
“Yes, of rats,” said the lawyer pettishly.
“I tell you once more, sir, I may be wrong; but Bruno seems to have found the clue I sought in vain.”
“Clue?—what clue?”
“We have been searching for the man who called himself George Harrington.”
“You have, sir. I have not.”
“Well, I have. It may sound romantic and strange, but at the present moment I have a horrible dread that we have found him at last.”
“What do you mean—where?”
For answer George Harrington pointed to the wall.
“What?” ejaculated the old man, in a hoarse whisper, and he caught at and held tightly by his companion’s arm.
“I have had suspicions flashing about in a vague way in my brain, sir, but I could not arrange them. Now they begin to assume shape.”
“Great heavens!”
“Look here, sir. This dog has been lying half dead ever since the disappearance of that man.”
“Yes.”
“What does he do as soon as he encounters Saul Harrington?”
“Fly at him.”
“Yes. Why should he? Surely he has not been in the habit of trying to get at the throat of a relative and visitor of the house.”
“That’s quite true; certainly.”
“You see the dog is as gentle with us as can be. Go to him yourself, and pat him.”
“I hardly—Yes, I will,” said the old man, mastering his dislike and dread; and, taking a couple of steps forward, he patted the dog’s head. “Why, Bruno, old dog, what’s the matter?” he said in an awe-stricken whisper.
The dog swung round, looked at him, barked loudly, then rose up at him, placing his paws on his shoulders, and howled mournfully.
“There, you see,” said George, laying his hand on the dog’s head. “Mad? No more than we are.”
“But—but what has that to do with your theory of the man’s disappearance?”
“Mr Hampton, I am not going to place it before you in words. My suspicion is that there has been foul play, and unless I am wrong, that man lies murdered behind yonder wall.”
The old lawyer caught him by the arm, and looked in his face with his own turning quite white.
“You horrify me,” he whispered in awe-stricken tones. “Surely it is impossible. Then you think that Mr Saul—”
“Never mind what I think,” cried George Harrington sharply. “I only say that I have a horrible suspicion that there has been foul play.”
“Then—then,” cried the lawyer with trembling voice, “you—Oh, it is impossible!”
“No, sir; we have heard of such things before.”
“Yes. Then, of course, we must have a search—the police.”
“No, sir; we may be wrong.”
“Yes, yes—of course,” cried the old man eagerly—“Yes; you must be wrong.”
“Look at that dog,” whispered George.
The old man turned to see that the dog was snuffing about the wall, and ended by beginning to tear away the sawdust at the bottom.
“This is too horrible,” whispered the old man, wiping his damp brow. “What would you advise?”
“Finding out the truth, sir; and at once.”
“But how. Whom would you trust?”
“Ourselves,” said George sternly. “Let me see: the gardener is in the house. He must be got rid of, and we must not let the ladies or anyone know what we are going to do.”
“But what we are going to do?”
“You are going to hold the light, sir, while I tear down that wall.”
The lawyer gazed at him in speechless horror, but seemed to yield at once to the stronger mind.
“Bruno!” cried George sharply.
The dog bounded to him.
“Lie down! Watch! Watch!”
The dog uttered a low growl, and followed him as he pointed to the wall, crouched directly, and remained silent and motionless as they left the cellar, and closed and locked the door.