‘Let us go and call up the chaplain of the Benedictines. He and I are almost the lords of this island, and if any one were wounded, or in need of our help, it is our duty to be on the spot. We will take Joséphine’s big umbrella and her lantern.’
The rain was awful, and the darkness of the night was so thick that we seemed to cleave a way through it as we buffeted with the driving downpour. To my troubled ear, our steps, along the deluged pavement, carried a portentous message into the silent night. There was a light in the priest’s house, and the sound of our footsteps approaching brought him to the door even before we had knocked.
‘Who is it? What is it?’ he whispered.
‘It is I, Mademoiselle Lenormant, father. We want you to come and examine the island with us. There is shooting somewhere, and somebody may have been murdered or dying.’
‘You have a lamp. Wait a moment, and I will join you.’ Outside he said, ‘Let us try the cemetery. Phew! how it rains. It is a deluge. I am not surprised at your courage, Mademoiselle, for it is not since yesterday that I know you. But your friend—ah, I forgot, she is English, and the Englishwoman, I have always heard, is capable of anything.’
I doubt not the little compliment of the good chaplain was as welcome to my friend as to myself, and warmed us both upon that dreary adventure. In silence we beat our way round to the cemetery, and then only remembered, what we should not have forgotten, that it was locked. Seeing how unlikely it was that any one should have contrived to get inside without the key for any black purpose whatsoever, the chaplain thought it unnecessary to go back for it. So we then decided to examine the rocks along as far as the tower, and afterwards go over the ruin.
There was nothing about the rocks but an occasional water-rat, that ran into hiding as soon as the gleam of the lantern revealed him. Nothing along the pavement under the low wall. We bent under the nearest broken arch of the tower, and entered it upon the river side. At first our lantern only served to accentuate the darkness, and show the deeper masses of shadow in the walls. We groped forward, and held our breath, in mingled fear and expectation. Nothing stirred; only the rain fell heavily with the noise of splashing when it touched the water below. I advanced foremost, and my foot brushed something that was not jagged stone or bramble.
‘Bring your lamp here, Monsieur, whoever you are,’ a familiar voice cried out, in an imperious tone.
I started, and stood to let the priest and Mademoiselle approach, wondering what it could mean. The priest held the lantern down low, and we at once recognised Dr. Vermont’s pale face looking up from a tangled heap of black against his knee.
‘We stopped before crossing the bridge to fire a shot in welcome to the new century, and this unstrung boy must needs topple off his balance, and faint away in sheer fright,’ he hurriedly explained.