Patroon van Volkenberg

by Henry Thew Stephenson

I thought little of the dog’s behavior then, but it was to come home to me before the night was over. Meantime, I felt more or less despondent, though, for the life of me, I could not say why. I had played my hand boldly and I had won. I was now, or should be in the morning, a member of the Red Band. I should be able to ferret out the patroon’s secrets. I hoped to be able to trip him up and thus put an end to his evil practices forever. Yet when we clasped hands in final agreement, I felt instinctively that I had met my match. Could it be that there were two play-actors in Van Volkenberg manor that night when I thought that there was but one? Did he see deeper than he pretended to see? Was he, as well as I, playing a part? Time alone could tell. But nothing is ever mended by worry; the thought of this old maxim soon drove away my fears, and my spirits rose in consequence.

CHAPTER XVI
“FIRE AND SLEETE AND CANDLE-LIGHT”

Of all the crises of my life I am accustomed to think of the presentation of my silver button to the patroon as the most important. Nor did I underrate it at the time. On that night, when the manor was settling itself to sleep, I walked restlessly on the wide terrace, taking account of the game as it stood, of the cards in my hand, and reckoning forward on the play of the morrow.

The manor-house was a rambling stone structure of two stories. It abounded in irregular corners, and in long, gloomy corridors which crossed and forked as intricately as the streets of a city. On the north side, the side visible from the window of my room, there was a wide terrace. When I stepped upon it, it was mostly in the deep shadow. Here and there, however, the moonlight broke across it in narrow silver bands.

I was thinking about my new master and about the danger of my situation. Lady Marmaduke and Pierre had both penetrated my disguise. Was the patroon as keen-eyed as they? Had he recognized me also and had he guessed the secret of my presence? I recalled every word he had said, and every expression of his face, even the idle tapping of his finger tips. The more I pondered the more I was at a loss. I could make nothing of the patroon’s action beyond what appeared on the surface. So I gave over thinking of him and thought of pleasanter things.

There are few joys in this world greater than the approach of danger when it courts success. But when the certainty of success is absent one has not far to go to find happier stuff for musing. My mind was soon full of the girl Miriam. Here, in the very bosom of my enemy’s house, where I was a spy in constant peril of my life, I had found one who, if not exactly my friend, had, at least, a strong claim upon my gratitude. I had no doubt now that I had met the patroon’s daughter when I wandered in my trance, and that she had given me the miniature which I wore about my neck. In my dreams I had thought her an angel. To my waking eyes she appeared no less beautiful. Her tall, graceful figure, her calm eyes and dark hair, above all, her pride and her affection for my sister—all these qualities together won my heart. Though she was a Catholic, I could not cease to think of her as I had seen her when I crouched beneath her father’s window, when she stood bravely facing his headlong anger on behalf of the girl whom she must have considered as a common servant. I made up my mind to protect her. I recalled the goblet that I had seen shatter against the wall. The idea of her needing a protector was not an idle dream.

While I was thinking about her she came towards me, walking slowly along the shadowy terrace. I first spied her white dress shimmering in the dark; then she stepped into a band of moonlight and her whole figure became radiant. I took off my hat, but she passed me without a word or even a bow of recognition. She seemed to have come out upon the terrace for no other purpose than to take the air. She continued to traverse it back and forth without paying any attention to me. Only once she seemed to notice me. Then she stopped in front of me, was about to speak, lifted her head proudly, and passed on.

While we were thus, a distant sound broke savagely upon our ears. The night had fallen very still, so still you could count the chirping crickets. A fringe of birches in the moonlight looked like a row of peering ghosts. The sudden sound that broke the stillness seemed at first to be some one calling out. It was coming nearer, though it came and went drearily. At times it was almost like a song. Occasionally it rose to a long mournful wail; after that there would be silence.

Mistress Van Volkenberg stopped to listen. She stood so near me that I could have touched her with my hand. I could hear her breathe in long gasping breaths. “She must not come to-night,” I heard her mutter. “If I could only warn her back!”

“I am at your service, madam.”