In the interim he had seen nothing further of the Italian.
Meanwhile day was succeeding day without advancing him one iota nearer the attainment of the object which had brought him so far; neither, cudgel his brains as he might and did by day and night, was any scheme or suggestion forthcoming which would serve to help him a single step on the way he wanted to go. For anything he could see to the contrary, he might just as well take the next train back to town. His journey had been utterly futile of results. His uncle was beyond the power of any help from without. He (Burgo) had no grounds for interference. Such evidence as he could have brought to bear against her ladyship was wholly inferential, and would certainly never have been accepted by any one in authority as sufficient to warrant the arm of the law in intervening between husband and wife. No; his uncle was a doomed man--doomed to slowly fade and grow weaker day by day, till at length the flame of life, reduced to a mere glimmer, would flicker out of its own accord. He was at the mercy of a vampire, who knew not the meaning of the word, and who would never let go her hold on him while there was a breath left in his body. Burgo's consciousness of his helplessness half maddened him. It was as an ever-present nightmare from which it was hopeless to rid himself. It tortured him during the dark hours, and mocked him when the sun was high. There were times when he was so wrought up that it would have been bad for her ladyship to be within reach of his hands. At such moments he could have strangled her without compunction. And by this time the 12th of October was drawing ominously near.
The afternoon of the fifth day brought heavy rain, but with the rising of the moon the wind rose and swept the heavier clouds out to sea, leaving nothing but a thin filmy lacework where they had been, as though in their hurried flight they had left a portion of their garments behind them. Burgo felt stifled indoors. The lower part of the tavern was filled with men drinking and smoking rank tobacco, the fumes of which seemed to permeate every corner of the place. Taking up his hat and stick, he went quietly downstairs, and let himself out by the side door unknown to any one, leaving the candles alight in his sitting-room. Taking no heed which way he was going, he found himself before long, after climbing out of the hollow in which the village was built, at a point where the road from Oakbarrow station debouched into the Coast Road, as it was called, which latter, a little way further on, left Garion Keep a hundred yards or more on its right, and keeping a tolerably straight course for several miles further, finally lost itself in the outskirts of a town of some importance.
After pausing for a moment at the sign-post, Burgo decided on keeping to the Coast Road. He would stroll on as far as the Keep, and see how the old house looked by moonlight. It was between nine and ten o'clock, and at that hour the country road was as lonely as a churchyard. Since leaving the last house of the village he had neither met nor seen a creature, and yet more than once it had seemed to him as if he were being dogged at a distance by some one who was desirous of remaining unseen. When, however, he turned to look, it was only to see the empty road behind him as in front; but the moonlight was too faint and diffused to permit of his distinguishing anything at a greater distance than twenty or thirty yards. All he could do was to shrug his shoulders and keep on his way, while telling himself that if anybody was following him, it must be that "skulking hound" whom he had already detected watching him, and who had doubtless been set on purposely to spy and report on all his comings and goings.
A little way further, and he came in full view of the Keep, that is to say, of the land front of it. As already stated, it stood somewhat back from the road, a short carriage drive, fringed on either side by an ornamental plantation of young firs and larches, leading up to the wrought-iron gates which gave admission to the courtyard.
It was the first time since his arrival at Crag End that Burgo had been so close to the Keep, his previous points of view having been from the cliff beyond the tower, but his memory retained a good general recollection of the outward appearance of the house during the years which had intervened since he had seen it last. He had strolled up the drive, which was open to the high road, and was gazing through the scroll-work of the gates, trying in the indistinct light to make out the different features of the building, when the sudden deep-mouthed baying of a couple of dogs warned him that his presence had become known to those faithful guardians. Without a doubt they were the dogs he had seen following the Italian, which Tyson had told him were always left loose and unmuzzled during the night.
As it seemed unlikely that they would cease their baying so long as he remained where he was, and as he had no desire to disturb the household, he turned and began slowly to retrace his steps. In the press of other thoughts he had forgotten all about his notion that he was being followed, nor, now that he had turned to go back, was there anything to recall it to his mind. At the point where the drive merged into the high road he halted, while he took one last look at the Keep. Dark, gloomy, and forbidding it looked, fit home for the slow tragedy which, he could hardly doubt, was at that very moment advancing by stealthy, but imperceptible degrees, to its preordained catastrophe. His heart bled for the old man who was being gradually done to death behind those sombre walls; yet here stood he, Burgo Brabazon, burning to rescue him, but as powerless to do so as a newborn babe. Oh, it was horrible, horrible!
A groan broke from his lips, he flung up his arms for a moment as if appealing to Heaven, then his head drooped forward on his open palms. "Is there no way--none?" he cried aloud, despairingly.
He was standing with his back to one of the plantations which lined the drive. So absorbed was he that he did not hear the sound of stealthy footsteps behind him, nor was he aware of two figures which crept out from the shadows of the trees, till the hard breathing of one of them betrayed their presence. He turned quickly, but it was too late. In the very act of doing so, he fell headlong to the ground, struck down by a crashing blow on the back of his skull.