MILLS & BOON, LIMITED
49 RUPERT STREET
LONDON, W.
Published 1913
TO
MY FATHER AND MOTHER
CRUMP FOLK GOING HOME
CHAPTER I
The curse of the old place was upon it—sudden death.
The servants crept quietly, starting when the boards creaked, clutching each other at shadows, and looking for ancestors at every turn. Upstairs, mother and betrothed, doctor and lawyer, convoyed “Slinkin’” Lyndesay to his latter end. The butler waited at the door, a curious expression on his face, neither of sorrow nor indifference; possibly the look of one assisting at an interesting experiment.
From the library, the only cheerful room at Crump, Christian de Lyndesay looked down to the river and over the arch of the crumbling bridge to the bay. A bitter, snarling wind had edged every hill and headland, and the cold tide came up, hungry and gray. He shivered suddenly. It was a thankless night to go out—where Slinkin’ Lyndesay was going.
The evening drew on. A flight of rooks came over the park on the fling of the wind, swept against the windows, sank, rose again, and was gone; and the heir wondered, watching them as they swung towards the woods, whether they carried the black soul of Slinkin’ Lyndesay with them.
Almost with the thought came the sound of movement overhead, and, shortly after, steps on the shallow stairs. When they reached the hall he recognised them. Nobody but the lawyer walked with one leg and ran with the other. Then came the doctor, less certain of his dignity than usual; after him, the faint, far-off whispering of silk; lastly, a light, firm step, that told nothing. Christian looked longingly at the French window.