CHAPTER VII.
It was a little after five on the following afternoon that Sir Geoffrey walked from his house into the square. He seemed, by his uneasy air, as if he was afraid of having his movements watched, for he stopped, hesitated, and finally walked away quickly in the direction of Upper Brook Street. Calling a hansom, he was driven to one of the quiet approaches, half town, half country, beyond Paddington, where he dismissed his cab. He then walked quickly on till he reached his destination—a well-appointed though sombre-looking establishment; and there, after some hesitation, he knocked. The room he was shown into was laid out with preparations for dinner; and just as the little clock over the mantel struck the half-hour after six, Le Gautier entered. He greeted his guest quietly, almost coldly, and rang the bell to order the meal. It was a quiet little dinner, really irreproachable in its way—the appropriate wines being perfect, for Le Gautier by no means despised the pleasures of the table, and, moreover, was not the man to spare where he had a purpose to serve.
‘Well, Sir Geoffrey,’ he said, toying with his glass, when the meal had concluded—it was past eight now, and the light was beginning to fail—‘do you feel equal to the coming trial?’
‘O yes,’ the baronet replied eagerly, though his face was perturbed and the glass in his hand shook. ‘Let us get it over; this suspense is killing me. Sometimes I fancy you are playing some devilish arts upon me. I doubt the evidence of my senses.’
‘You do not doubt,’ Le Gautier answered sternly. ‘Listen!’
The light in the room was fading, and nothing distinctly could be seen save the glimmer of the waning day upon glass and silver. At the moment, the strains of music were heard, low and soft at first, then swelling louder, but always melancholy. It was quite impossible to tell whence it came—it seemed to strike the ear as if the earth was full of the sweet sounds. Suddenly it ceased, and a sigh like a mournful wind broke the stillness.
‘It might be my dead brother himself playing,’ Sir Geoffrey said, in great agitation. ‘The organ was his favourite instrument. Strange that the music should be so familiar to me!’
‘Do you doubt now? Le Gautier asked. ‘Does your unbelieving mind still run upon trickery or mechanism, or are you convinced?’
‘I must believe,’ the weak old man replied; ‘I have no alternative. I put myself in your hands. Tell me what I am to do.’
‘Your own conscience must guide you, and what the spirits will to-night must be obeyed. It is no question for me to decide; I am merely the humble instrument, the medium between one world and another. I dare not advise you. When your nerves are sufficiently braced to meet the dead, I will restore the communication.—Are you afraid?’
‘No, no!’ cried the baronet; ‘I am not afraid.’
A cold, icy hand touched him on the cheek, and a low voice whispered in his ear the words: ‘You are!’ Trembling, frightened, he rose from his chair; and then suddenly the room was filled with a great light, showing the baronet’s set face, and Le Gautier’s pallid features wearing a sardonic smile. Hardly had the light appeared, when it was gone, leaving the room in double darkness at the change. A yell of harsh, discordant laughter rang out, dying away to a moan.
‘What is that, Le Gautier?’ Sir Geoffrey asked. ‘Is this all real, or am I merely dreaming?’
‘The spirits laugh at your audacity. You boasted you were not afraid, whilst you are trembling in every limb. You dare not say it again!’
‘I am alarmed, mystified,’ he said; ‘but I am not afraid.’
A mocking shout of laughter followed this speech, and the words, ‘You lie!’ as if uttered in chorus, were distinctly heard. A cold hand clutched Sir Geoffrey by the throat, holding him till he could hardly breathe. In his intense agitation, he snatched at a shadowy arm, and suddenly the hand relaxed its grip. Le Gautier struck a match and lighted the candles.
‘Are you afraid now?’ he asked quietly.
‘O yes, yes; anything to save me from that horrid grasp! My throat is aching with the pressure.’
Le Gautier looked at the finger-marks calmly. He was acting splendidly, not overdoing the affair in the slightest, and, on the other hand, not appearing altogether indifferent. He was playing for a high stake, and it required all his cunning, all his cool audacity, to win. To the casual observer, he might have been an enthusiastic believer.
‘You have seen enough,’ he commenced quietly, but with an air of the most profound conviction—‘you have seen enough to know that the time for delay is past, and the hour for action has arrived. The spirits to-night are incensed with you; they are furious at this delay; and unless you solemnly promise to carry out my proposals, I shall not risk our lives by any manifestation to-night.’
‘What am I to do?’ Sir Geoffrey cried piteously. ‘I put myself entirely in your hands. Tell me my duty, and I promise to follow it.’
‘So much the better for you,’ quoth Le Gautier sternly. ‘Listen! You know I am a member of a great Secret Society. In the first place, you must join that; and let me tell you, your late brother was a member, and took the keenest interest in its movements. You must join!’
‘I knew my brother was embroiled in some rascally Socialist plots,’ said Sir Geoffrey incautiously; ‘but I really do not see why I’—— He stopped abruptly, for the same mournful sigh was heard, and a voice whispered in the air, ‘Beware!’ With increased agitation, he continued: ‘If that is part of my penance, I must do so; though it is on the strict understanding that I’——
‘It is on no understanding at all!’ Le Gautier thundered. ‘Who are you, poor mortal, that you should make stipulations? We must have all or nothing. Take it, or leave it!’
He looked straight across into the other’s face, his eyes burning with their intensity. For a moment they sat thus, striving for the mastery. Then Sir Geoffrey looked away. He was conquered.
‘Let it be so,’ he said. ‘Your will has conquered mine. Proceed, for I see you have something more yet to say.’
Again the sigh was heard, and a voice said distinctly: ‘It is well.’ The music burst out again triumphant this time. When the last pealing strains died away, Le Gautier continued: ‘Your brother died at New York, as you know; but at that time, he was on the business of the Society. No man had his heart so firmly set upon the cause as he, no man has been so missed. You would never be able to take his place; but you can help us indirectly; you can aid us with what we most need, and that is money. You shall see the shade of Sir Ughtred presently, and hold converse with him; but, on the peril of your life, do not move from the spot where I shall place you.’
‘Let us go now,’ Sir Geoffrey cried eagerly. ‘Why should we waste any more time talking here?’
‘Because things are not prepared. The shades from another world do not come forth at a moment’s bidding to show themselves to mortal eyes, though the air is full of them now.’
Sir Geoffrey looked uneasily around for any traces of these ghostly visitors, though he could see nothing; nevertheless, the idea of a chamber full of supernatural bodies was by no means pleasant.
‘Then our pact is complete,’ Le Gautier continued. ‘Briefly, it stands thus: I am to show you such things as you wish to see; and in return, you become a member of our Brotherhood, swearing to promote its welfare by all the means in your power. Quick! say the word, for I feel the unseen influence upon me.’
‘Yes, yes—agreed; only show me my brother.’
As Sir Geoffrey spoke, a change came over Le Gautier’s face; the baronet watching him, perfectly fascinated. The medium’s eyes grew larger and more luminous, his features became rigid, and he moved like a man who walks in a dream. His gaze was fixed upon the other, but there was no sense of recognition there—all was blank and motionless. He rose from his chair, moving towards the door, his hands groping for it like the action of the blind, and he beckoned to Sir Geoffrey to follow him out along the dark passage.
‘Come!’ he said in a strange hollow voice—‘come with me! The spirits are abroad, and have need of me!’
The room they entered was situated at the back of the house, having a large old-fashioned bay window of the shape and form one sees in the banqueting-room of old country-houses—a long narrow room, draped entirely in black; and the only light in the place proceeded from two small oil-lamps held by white Parian statues. As the twain entered, the draperies were violently agitated, as if by a sudden wind; an icy current seemed to strike them full in the face. A chair, impelled forward by an unseen hand, was pushed across the bare floor, and Sir Geoffrey, at a motion from his companion, seated himself therein. Le Gautier stepped forward towards the window, and lighted a flat brasier, sprinkling some sort of powder upon it, and immediately the room was filled with a dense violet mist, through which the oil-lamps shone dimly. The weird music commenced again, and as it died away, a loud report was heard, and the curtains across the window were wrenched apart, disclosing an open space. As Sir Geoffrey gazed into it, a form began to appear, misty at first, then getting gradually clearer, till the watcher saw the figure of a girl, dim and slight, for he could see the woodwork of the window behind, but clear enough to see she was fair and young, with thick masses of long yellow hair hanging over her shoulders, and half hiding her face from sight. There was a look of sadness on the brow.
‘You may speak,’ the strange hollow tones of Le Gautier came through the mist. ‘If you have any questions to ask, put them; but, at the peril of your life, do not attempt to move.’
With the most reverent and holy belief in the reality of the scene before him, Sir Geoffrey gazed at the downcast features. To his diseased mind, he was on the borderland of another world, and the very thought of speaking to the bright vision was full of awe.
‘Who are you?’ he said at length in tremulous tones. ‘Let me know who it is with whom I speak.’
‘I am your better self,’ the vision spoke; and the voice sounded faint and distant, yet very sweet, like music on the waters. ‘I am your good spirit, your guardian angel. I stand by you night and day, the presiding deity of the honour of the House of Charteris.’
This artful stroke gave the listener confidence, and flattered his family pride. ‘Has every man a spirit such as you?’ he asked.
‘Every man who is by nature noble—yes. To every one who has courage and genius, one of my sisters belongs. I am the guiding star of your House. I have stood by you and yours in the hour of need. I saw your father die. I saw your brother’s deathbed. It is of him you would speak?’
‘It is,’ the baronet cried boldly. ‘What of him?’
‘You owe him a heavy debt of reparation,’ the vision continued sadly. ‘In life, you were not always friends; in death, you were not with him. He left a family. Are you aware of that, selfish mortal?’
‘I did not know; I never knew. But it is not yet too late to atone. Tell me where they are, and I will go to them.’
‘It is too late!’ the figure replied in tones of deepest sorrow. ‘They are dead—dead of neglect; nay, more, starvation. They will not dispute your sway now. While you had flattery and adulation, while you lived in luxury and splendour, your kith and kin lacked bread.’
‘But surely some atonement can be made?’
‘Too late—too late! Nothing can avail them now, no specious sophistry, no outward appearance of remorse. You can atone, though slightly, by completing the work your brother began in life. Know that at your very door, proud man, thousands of your fellow-creatures are starving, ground down in the dust by injustice and oppression. You can help to lighten this burden; you can help these men, who, poor and savage as they are, are yet men, and brothers.’
‘I will!’ Sir Geoffrey cried eagerly—‘I will! Only show me how; and let me see my brother, if only for a brief moment.’
‘That is well,’ the figure replied with a radiant smile. ‘As for the means, I must leave that to you. But you shall see your brother, if only for a moment.—And now, farewell.’
‘But stay another minute. I’——
The farewell was repeated, coming to the listener’s ears as from afar off, fainter and fainter, as the violet mist rose again, filling the room with a dense fragrant smoke, through which the rigid figure of Le Gautier could be dimly seen erect and motionless.
When the mist cleared away again, the figure of a man grew visible. Perfect, yet intangible, he stood there, muffled in a long cloak, and his features partially hidden by a soft broad-brimmed hat. At this spectacle, Sir Geoffrey’s agitation increased, and great drops stood upon his forehead.
‘It is he—my brother!’ he groaned, starting from his feet; but again the word ‘Beware!’ seemed to be hissed in his ear. ‘My dear brother, do not look at me like that. It was no fault of mine, I swear.’
The figure answered not, but looking the wretched man in the face, pointed down to his feet, where two thin, emaciated children crouched, evidently in the last stage of disease and starvation.
‘What atonement can you make for this?’ was asked in the stern tones the listener knew so well. ‘Man! in the enjoyment of what should, under happier auspices, have been mine, what do you say to this?’ He pointed down to the crouching children again, sternly yet sadly.
‘Anything,’ the baronet exclaimed—‘anything, so that you do not torture me like this! It is no fault of mine. I did not know. But anything in my power I will do, and do gladly.’
‘Well for you that you have spoken thus! You shall complete the work I began in life, and the man called Hector le Gautier shall help you with his aid and counsel.—You have a daughter?’
‘I have—your niece Enid. What do you know of her?’
‘Much; perhaps more than you.—Listen! and interrupt me at your peril. You may have views for her; perhaps she has chosen for herself. Am I right? But this must not be! Hector le Gautier must wed her!’
‘But I have other views. There is already’——
‘Do you dare to cross me?’ the vision sternly asked. ‘Have not I and mine suffered enough at your hands? Promise, or’——
He stopped abruptly, and again the sighing voice whispered ‘Beware!’ In an agony of terror, the baronet looked round; but the dark eyes never seemed to leave him. So frightened was he, so stricken by this cunningly devised display, that he dared not defy the figure standing there before him.
‘I promise,’ he shouted at last—‘I promise.’
‘’Tis well,’ the vision said. ‘From this moment, you are free. You will see me no more; but if you dare swerve a hairbreadth from our compact, then you shall find my vengeance swift and terrible. Geoffrey, farewell!’
‘But, Ughtred; one moment more—I’——
A deep shuddering sigh broke the silence, and the figure was gone. Almost distracted, Sir Geoffrey rushed forward to the curtains, which had again fallen, but nothing was there. The smoke cleared away, and once again the room was quiet.
Le Gautier opened his eyes, and gradually life and motion came back to him, as he awoke like a man from a trance. ‘Are you satisfied,’ he asked, ‘with what you have seen?’
‘Wonderful!’ the trembling baronet replied. ‘It was my brother to the life—the very voice even. You heard the compact?’
‘I, my dear Sir Geoffrey? No, indeed,’ Le Gautier exclaimed in a voice of great surprise. ‘Recollect, I heard nothing; my faculties were torpid; they formed the medium through which sights and sounds were conveyed to you.’
‘And you heard absolutely nothing?’
‘Absolutely nothing.—But, of course, if there happened to be anything which concerned me, you can tell me at your convenience.—And now, I think we have had enough of spirits for one night, unless you would like something to steady your nerves?’
Sir Geoffrey declined the proffered refreshment, pleading the lateness of the hour and his desire to get home. Le Gautier did not detain him; and after a few words, they parted; the one to dwell upon the startling events of the evening, and the other to complete his plans. It was a neat stroke of Le Gautier’s to disclaim any knowledge of the conversation, the rather that the delicate allusion to his relations with Enid were mentioned, and besides which, it acquitted him from any awkward confidences.
‘The game is in my hands,’ the schemer mused an hour later, as he sat over his last cigar. ‘Would any one believe that a man of education, I almost said sense, could be such a fool?—Hector, mon ami, you will never starve as long as there is a Charteris in the world. The opportunity has long been coming, but the prize is mine at last;’ and with these words, the virtuous young man went to bed, nothing in his dreams telling him that his destruction was only a question of time, and that his life was in the hands of two vengeful women.