Chapter Thirteen.
Geoffrey Rutherford’s Keys.
It is scarcely to be wondered at when I say that I did not close my eyes that night. I arose early the following morning, determined to lose no time in seeking Mr Gray, and receiving a renewed order to visit Cousin Geoffrey’s house. I rose long before dawn, dressed myself neatly, and went down-stairs. I felt far too excited to remain in bed any longer. It was still dark when I entered our tiny drawing-room, but I busied myself in helping our one servant to clean and tidy the little sitting-room. She polished the grate and laid the fire, and I put a match to it and caused it to blaze up merrily.
“Oh, Miss Rosamund, you are wasteful,” exclaimed Sally. “And there ain’t any too much coal left in the cellar,” she continued. “My missus, she never has the fire lit in the droring-room afore dinner-time, and you knows that well, Miss Rosamund.”
“Never mind, Sally, I must have a fire this morning,” I replied.
I felt reckless and extravagant. What if we never needed to economise more! What if—? My brain seemed to reel; I almost shook myself in my anger. “How silly you are, Rosamund Lindley!” I said under my breath. “What if you have got the secret which will lead to the discovery of Cousin Geoffrey’s will? is it likely that that will can affect you? Oh, what a conceited, foolish girl you are!”
Nevertheless, I toasted myself before a warm fire, and dreamed my dreams until breakfast time.
At that meal I called forth angry words both from my father and George. I calmly announced my intention of going up to town with them. When I said this, George’s face grew red with indignation. His eyes looked full at me. They said as plainly as eyes could speak: “Now what whim have you taken into your head? Are you going to interfere still further in this wretched, disgraceful affair of Jack’s?”
My own eyes danced as they replied to him with a gay and confident smile. He almost turned his back on me, and upset half a cup of coffee in disgust.
I jumped up to fetch a cloth to wipe up the mess he had made. My father said:
“Rosamund, it is out of my power to gratify all your restless whims; you are scarcely at home when you are off again. You will turn into one of those gadding women, those busy-bodies who are a disgrace to their sex. Mary,” turning to my mother, “I wonder you allow it.”
“Could not you stay at home to-day, Rose, dear?” she asked, gently, looking at me with a sweet piteous sort of smile.
“I’ll stay at home to-morrow, mother darling,” I answered. “I am ever so sorry to leave you to-day, but it is absolutely necessary for me to go to town.”
“Stuff and nonsense,” said my father. “I shan’t pay for your ticket, miss.”
“I’ve enough money to do that for myself,” I replied.
The sorrow in my mother’s eyes deepened. She could never bear any of us to oppose our father. I followed her into the little drawing-room.
“A fire already!” she exclaimed. “What can Sally have been thinking of?”
“It was my fault, mother. I lit the fire.”
“Rosamund, dear, how very wasteful! And we have scarcely any coal in the cellar, and your father says he will not be able to order a fresh supply before Monday.”
“Mother darling, sit down in your easy-chair and warm yourself by the fire; you look so white and shivery. Mammie dear,” I continued, kneeling down and rubbing my cheek affectionately against hers, “I feel full of hope to-day—I cannot economise to-day—don’t ask me.”
My mother smoothed back my hair, kissed me on my forehead, and gave herself up to the enjoyment of the fire.
“Do you know why I am going to town?” I whispered.
“I wish you would not go at all, Rose. Your father is vexed.”
“I fear I must vex him to-day, mother. I am going to Cousin Geoffrey’s house.”
Two pink roses stole into my mother’s pretty cheeks. She looked at me inquiringly.
“Last night,” I continued, “the ruby ring brought me a message.”
“Rosamund, my darling, what do you mean?”
“What I say. I will explain everything when I return from town. I am going now on the business which the ring told me of.” I sprang to my feet as I spoke, kissed my mother again, and ran out of the room to get ready.
I had a silent journey up to Paddington; neither my father nor George would say a word to me.
When I arrived at the terminus I coolly desired George to hail a hansom for me.
“I think you must be mad,” he said, raising his eyebrows.
“Will you get me a hansom?” I repeated, in a quiet voice. He stared at me again; but the steady look in my eyes quelled him. He held up his umbrella to a hansom driver, and walked unwillingly across the platform with me. My father had long ago left us to our own devices.
“Shall I give you a lift, George?” I said. “I am going towards the City.”
“No, thank you,” he replied. “I at least am too honest to ride in a vehicle I cannot afford.”
“George,” I said, looking earnestly at him, “believe me, I am doing nothing rashly. I am upheld by a hope to-day—a hope which may turn out a mere chimera, but which is yet sufficiently real to induce me to take steps to see Mr Gray with as little delay as possible.”
“Who is Mr Gray?”
“Cousin Geoffrey Rutherford’s lawyer.”
“That crazed old man who died in the autumn?”
“Good-bye, George,” I said, springing into the hansom and waving my hand to him. I shouted Mr Gray’s address to the driver through the little window in the roof. George was so angry that he did not even vouchsafe to take off his hat to me as I drove away.
I arrived at Mr Gray’s in good time. He was within, and I was shown almost directly into his presence.
“How do you do, Miss Lindley?” he said; “please be seated.”
His manner was calm and pleasant, but his eyes said plainly, “Now, what’s up? Have you got any news for me?”
I answered Mr Gray’s eyes, not his voice. I did not sit down, but stood close to him, as if I was in haste to be gone.
“I want an order to view Cousin Geoffrey’s house,” I said.
“What, again?” he asked.
“Yes, and I am in a great hurry.”
Mr Gray’s eyes grew absolutely eager and hurried in their speech, but his voice was as cool as ever.
“You had better take a chair,” he said.
Still replying to his eyes, I continued to stand.
“I want an order to view the house,” I said. “I want you to give me a letter to the caretakers asking them to allow me to go where I please alone; and I want you to give me all Cousin Geoffrey’s keys.”
“All Mr Rutherford’s keys! What do you mean?”
“I cannot tell you. Will you trust me? May I have them?”
“You are making a bold and extraordinary request.”
“I know it.”
“And you won’t explain?”
“I can’t explain. Oh! Mr Gray, please let me have the keys.”
The lawyer looked me all over from head to foot; his searching eyes travelled over my person.
“At least, Rosamund Lindley, you are honest,” he said. “If you open drawers, you won’t steal.”
“No,” I said, proudly.
“If you peer into secret places, you won’t disturb? I see order written across your forehead, Rosamund, and determination sits comfortably on those firm lips of yours, and courage and honesty dwell in your eyes. There! I’m an old fool, I suppose; but chit of a girl as you are, I am going to trust you. If you want those keys, you may have them.”
“Thank you, Mr Gray; they shall be all safely returned to you to-night.”
“I should rather think so, indeed. I only meant you to have them for an hour or two.”
“I shall probably want them for the whole of to-day; and if I do not come across what I am looking for, I shall be obliged to ask you to let me have the keys again to-morrow, again the next day, again every day until my search is ended.”
“Pooh, pooh!” he said. “You are intent on a search for the hidden will, I suppose. May you find it! you have my best wishes.”
“Thank you.”
“By the way, Miss Lindley, you have got that ruby ring of yours safe, I hope?”
“Quite safe; it is on my finger.”
“How often have I warned you not to wear a valuable ring of that kind in so careless a manner! Good heavens! it may slip off when you are washing your hands.”
“I will take care of that,” I answered.
The lawyer sighed, favoured me with another keen glance, and then rose deliberately from his chair.
“I had better get you the keys,” he said. “Shall I come with you to the house?”
“No, thank you.”
“But the keys are heavy. I must send a messenger with you to carry them.”
“I will take them myself, please.”
“I warn you that they are heavy.”
“And I am strong.”
Mr Gray smiled.
“Wilful girl,” he said. He ceased to combat any more of my objections, and, walking across his office, opened an iron safe which was let into the wall. He pushed his hand far into the safe and took out a leather bag. There was a label on the bag which I could read.
“Geoffrey Rutherford’s keys” was written in clear type on the white label.
Mr Gray untied the label, placed it in the safe, and brought me over the bag.
“Here they are,” he said, “the precious keys! here they are, one and all—some bright, some rusty; some large, some small. You will have to take pains with these keys, Miss Rosamund. They were made specially for their owner by a skilled locksmith; they are full of curious tricks; some must turn twice before they open, some must lock and unlock and lock again and yet again; some remain immovable until they find the secret spring. Don’t break any of them, for it would be difficult to replace them. Now take the bag; its contents are heavy and more precious than gold.”
Mr Gray placed the leather bag in my hand. Its weight surprised me. I would not show dismay, however, but girding up my courage and all the muscles of my strong right arm, went out into the street.
I had to walk the whole length of this long street before I came across an empty hansom. Both arms ached by this time. From right hand to left I changed that bag; from left hand back again to right. I never carried anything so heavy before. I wished more than once that I had accepted Mr Gray’s offer of sending a trusty messenger with me.
At last, however, my earnestly desired hansom crawled slowly into view. I hailed it, got in, and a few minutes later found myself standing in the hall of Cousin Geoffrey’s house.
The caretaker, Drake, was within. He knew me this time, and smiled a welcome.
“Drake,” I said, “I have come to spend some hours here. Mr Gray says that I am to have full liberty, and am not to be questioned or interfered with in any way.”
“Certainly, miss; whatever Mr Gray wishes must be done.”
“Is Mrs Drake within this morning, Drake?”
“The missus is down in the kitchen, miss; shall I fetch her to you?”
“I don’t think you need do that. I only wanted to say that as I shall probably have to spend the day here, I should like to have something to eat.”
“Yes, Miss Lindley; the missus had better come up and take your orders.”
“No, Drake; I have no time to waste in that way. Go down-stairs and tell her that I will come to her in the kitchen at two o’clock. Ask her to have a cup of tea for me and a boiled egg, if quite convenient. I shall pay, of course.”
“Oh, miss, there ain’t no need. Mr Gray provides us very liberally. I’ll give the wife your orders, Miss Lindley.”