“It’s all clear to me,” murmured the girl to herself, as she rapidly walked along the street; “master has gone down into that dismal place to look after his money, and somehow he has locked himself in and cannot get out; and no one thinks of looking for him there; and so he’ll be starved to death, or maybe go right mad in that horrible vault. Hannah is hard of hearing—if he called ever so loud she’d never hear him in the kitchen; and my lady is upstairs, so his voice would never reach her. It makes one’s blood cold to think of his trying to get help, and shouting and calling, and never a soul going near him! I must go and tell those who are searching where to look.” Lottie had been walking very fast, but she slackened her pace as a difficulty occurred to her mind. “But I must not tell any one of that vault—no, not even Miss Isa; have I not solemnly promised to keep the secret? I must go down myself all alone to that gloomy place. But what if master should be hiding there on purpose; or if some one should come on a sudden and find me down there amongst all the silver and gold, might I not be taken for a thief? I have suffered so much already, I could not abide any more of these cruel suspicions; and maybe I’d be sent to prison this time, and that would break mother’s heart altogether.” The simple girl was so much startled by the images of terror called up by her excited fancy, that for a moment she felt inclined to turn back. “Suppose I tell Miss Isa—only Miss Isa; that would keep my character clear; and it cannot do harm for her to know where her own brother hoards all his money. But that promise—that fatal promise! What would the Lord have me to do? It is so miserable to be able to ask advice of no one, not even of my own dear mother! I seem going right into the darkness—but then, as Mr. Eardley would say, I’ve the trumpet of conscience, and the light of the Word, and the Lord Himself will guide me, and make me triumph over all difficulties, if I put my firm trust in Him. It seems so wonderful that the glorious King of Heaven should think of or care for a poor ignorant child like me!”
The shades of evening were gathering around her before the weary Lottie trod the well-known path over the common that led to Wildwaste Lodge. She looked up anxiously at the windows as she approached the house; she was uneasy regarding the health of her dear young mistress. When Hannah, after tedious delay, answered Lottie’s timid ring at the door-bell, her first anxious question was, “Oh, tell me, how is Miss Isa?” Lottie had to repeat it, for the old servant seemed more deaf, as well as more ill-tempered than usual.
“She has a headache—natural enough, turning herself into a sick-nurse for a stranger as gives more trouble than thanks. And she’s a worritting after master, who has disappeared, no one knows how. But what brings you back, like a bad halfpenny, Lottie?” added the peevish old woman; “you chose to take yourself off without warning, leaving all the work of the house on my hands, and now you may just keep away—there’s no one as wants you here!” and Hannah almost shut the door in the face of the girl.
“Let me in—for just this night—oh, let me in. I’ve walked all the six miles from Axe; I can’t go back in the dark all alone!” pleaded Lottie, whose brow and lip were moist with toil-drops, and who felt the absolute necessity of searching the vault without the delay of another hour. “Hannah, I’ll work like a slave; I’ll do anything that you bid me; just speak a word for me to my mistress, pray her to let me stop, at least—at least till the morning.”
“How can I be worritting Miss Isa, with asking any-think for the like of you,” said Hannah ungraciously, opening the door, however, a little wider, so as to give admittance to Lottie. “You may go there into the kitchen—everything there wants cleaning and looking arter, for not a minute have I had to myself this blessed day, what with the fetching and carrying upstairs, downstairs, and all the stir about master, which has turned the house upside down. There—you get water from the pump, and fill the kettle, and wash up the plates, while I go up with the medicine; there’s Miss Madden’s bell ringing like mad!”
Lottie retired to the kitchen, but neither to rest nor to work. After listening for a few moments to the slow step of the old servant as she mounted the stairs, grumbling at every step, the girl seized her opportunity, and darted into the study. The table had not been drawn back to its place, the brown drugget lay as Gaspar had left it; but though Lottie knew the situation of the trap-door in the floor, she could not at once discover it, either owing to the opening being so well concealed, or from her own nervous haste causing confusion in her mind. Having at last, rather by feeling than by sight, found the portion of the planks that could be moved, Lottie lifted the trap-door and again timidly gazed down into the darkness below. Before she ventured to descend she paused and listened, to make certain that Hannah was still upstairs. She heard the woman’s heavy step in the room above, and then, feeling that every minute was precious, Lottie hastily descended the ladder. Not having brought a light with her, and the vault being utterly dark, the girl had to grope to find the handle of that inner door which Gaspar had closed, but not locked, behind him. Lottie pressed against the door, but felt that something within resisted her efforts to push it open. She used more strength, pressing with knee and shoulder; the resisting body, whatever it might be, yielded a little under her efforts. There was an opening sufficiently wide to admit the girl’s hand. Lottie sank on her knees, and put down her hand in order to feel what was the nature of the obstruction which the darkness prevented her from seeing, and uttered a shriek of horror upon touching a clammy human face! A frightful conviction flashed on her mind that her master had been murdered for his money, and that it was his corpse which lay within the vault.
“Oh, they’ve killed him!” she exclaimed aloud in accents of terror, starting to her feet, as she uttered the exclamation of fear.
“Killed whom?—in mercy speak!” cried the agonized voice of Isa from above. Miss Gritton had chanced to enter the study in search of some papers, and was with astonishment bending over the open trap-door, when she caught the sound of the terrible words from below. Isa could scarcely see the top rounds of the ladder, so obscure had the twilight become; she knew not whither it might lead, or what horrors might lie at the bottom, yet she hesitated not for one instant, and almost before the sound of her terrified question had died away, she was at the side of Lottie in the utter darkness of the vault.
“Master has been murdered!” gasped the young maid. Gaspar could hear her exclamation distinctly, but was unable to speak a word in reply.