What was it? What was this tremendous secret? It is uttered in a breath. I knew, I had known from the first, that Milord had never run away, but that he had been murdered, and his body hidden in a subterranean chamber, by the man who professed to be his friend and admonitor. I will explain.
High above Cormayeur, among the waste and desolation of the hills, there pours itself down a torrent which is called Lapluietonnante—the Rain of Thunder. Once and more, this torrent, entering through rocky ravines, plunges like a mad and foaming horse, until at length, too blind with terror to note where it is going, it leaps from a precipice, and crashes in a ruin of watery splinters on the rocks a score of yards below. Now, at the very point where the water springs from the gorge, there is a certain fissure in the wall of rock, not easily observable amongst others, but which, having once discovered and entered, one will find leads down by a fantastic passage into a chamber or grotto situated right behind the fall and opening on to it. Here was a secret of knowledge, I thought, my own exclusive property, until Milord came to disabuse my mind. He did not confess his discovery to me; but I gathered, from what he let fall, that his daring spirit had penetrated to the arcanum which heretofore had been my solitary possession. “I could show you, Geoletti,” said he once, “a cavern in the water that would be worth a little fortune to you in tips, if you knew it. But I’m going to keep it to myself till I go; and then perhaps I’ll let out.” I smiled to him, confessing nothing; but from that moment I was always on the watch to see if my suspicion were correct. There was a second fissure immediately above the other, but shallow, and with a projection of rock within it apt for cover; and there, when I knew Milord to be abroad in the neighbourhood, I would often hide myself, and spy to see him come. And once at last he came, and the Gouverneur with him.
They stopped beside the rock, and talked before they entered. It was then the time when scandal came to whisper of a young maid’s condition. That subject was on their lips.
“It’s done, and there’s an end of it,” said Milord in a heat. “I tell you I’ve married her, Mr Mark Dalston.”
“Why do you call me by that name?” asked the Gouverneur. He was very quiet and smiling; and he showed his white teeth always.
“Because it’s your real one, isn’t it?” said Milord. “And because I want to convince you that mine isn’t the only secret here that might lead to disturbances if revealed. I stand to take the consequences of my deeds, Mr Dalston, whatever you may do.”
“Have you, then,” said the Gouverneur, “written to confess to your father?”
“No, but I’m going to,” answered Milord. “It can’t be delayed much longer. Only I’ll do it in my own time and way, and stand no dictating from anybody.” Then he seemed to soften a little. “Hang it, Delane!” he said. “I’m sorry if you are sweet on the girl yourself. But one could never tell from your manner—you’re such a deep chap.”
“Am I?” said the Gouverneur, and he laughed. “But you have beaten us all in depth, Skene. Well, as you remark, the thing’s done, and there’s no more to be said about it for the moment. Now show me the way into this wonderful cave you’ve discovered.”
They passed in, one after the other, Milord going first—and he never came out again. Only, presently, there jumped from the opening on to the grass a man very white but smiling still, who flicked the dust from his clothes, and sat down on a rock, looking into the curve of the fall as if his eyes were needles to pierce it. And suddenly he came to his feet.