Read Ebook: The Mystery of the Downs by Rees Arthur J Arthur John Watson John R John Reay

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Ebook has 1748 lines and 89663 words, and 35 pages

The servant retired with his master's message, and Itzalmo came soon after. Advancing before Hualcoyotl, the old vassal dropped on one knee in salutation.

"Arise, Itzalmo," said the prince, kindly. "You have requested speech with me. Hualcoyotl is pleased to grant any favor you may ask which is his to bestow. Of what would you speak?"

"Hualcoyotl, the prince, is very kind. If it please him, his servant would speak of the king."

"What of the king, good friend?"

"The king is dead."

"The king dead, you say? How came the news?"

Hualcoyotl's countenance took on a grave and thoughtful expression. After a short pause he remarked:

"Maxtla will be king."

"Yes, Maxtla is already king," replied Itzalmo; "crowned by his father's hand--an event greatly to be deplored, surely; and well might we ask, O Prince, what will be the issue?"

"An inauspicious succession, good friend, to say the least; and one full of painful uncertainty," spoke the master; and, after a brief silence, he suddenly said; "Itzalmo, thou hast excellent command of thy knowledge--thou art wise; I would know what is in thy mind. What discernest thou in the old king's death? How will it effect our people's condition?"

"Hualcoyotl is the son of a noble father, and, like he was wont to do, gives his first thoughts to his people. Be assured, O Prince, that no good, but evil only, will come to Tezcuco from Maxtla. He is an unscrupulous prince, and hath not the fear of the gods in his heart. The oppressor's hand has been very heavy--the weight of it will not grow lighter; the shackles which bind us are galling--they will not be loosed." The old man's voice grew sadly eloquent. Raising his eyes and looking off as if in contemplation of his enthralled and unhappy country, he exclaimed: "Tezcuco, O Tezcuco! Thou art indeed distressed; and the end is not!"

"Itzalmo, good friend, it is not a cheerful picture you hold up before me in this perplexing hour, and I fear greatly that you have not overdrawn. What would you advise? For eight years you have been like a father to Hualcoyotl--yes, for eight years your hand has pointed out the way, and it has been Hualcoyotl's pleasure to walk therein. Speak, Itzalmo, good friend; I repeat: what would you advise?"

"It is a troublesome question you would have me answer. Time has not been given me in which to consider. At best, we can only wait and watch. A few days may enlighten us much in regard to Maxtla's disposition and purpose; especially with reference to yourself. Our friends at the king's palace will be sleeplessly vigilant; his every movement will be closely watched, and, if of a menacing character, reported immediately."

"You speak truly, Itzalmo, when you say we can only wait and watch. Our hands are indeed helpless. But do not let us anticipate troubles--they come fast enough. Have done with that, then, and look at this," returned the prince, calling the old preceptor's attention to the manuscript on the table, which proved to be the work of his own hand, and of which he desired a critical inspection by Itzalmo.

After a close scrutiny of the manuscript the old tutor said, showing his gratification and approval:

"Hualcoyotl has done well. The pupil has become a master, and Itzalmo's labors, as his instructor, are about at an end. The builder has not builded in vain, and his heart rejoices that it is so."

"Hualcoyotl has been fortunate in the matter of an instructor, if in nothing else. Itzalmo has been a faithful teacher, and his reward shall be commensurate, the gods befriending us," replied the prince, in grateful tones.

"May the gods befriend you, good master, not for my sake, but for your own and that of your oppressed people!" prayerfully responded the old tutor.

"Your words are overkind, Itzalmo, good friend; and they will be remembered with gratitude," returned the prince, feelingly.

Having accomplished the object of his visit to the apartment of Hualcoyotl, Itzalmo saluted him and withdrew.

When left to himself the prince became thoughtful for a time, when he was suddenly reminded that his servant was without, waiting for orders. He struck, lightly, a small, bell-shaped instrument suspended near him, and Oza immediately appeared in the doorway.

"Oza," spoke the master, "ask the tzin Euet to favor me with his presence."

A word synonymous with "lord."

"What does this mean?" she cried. "Some one has been here."

"It is extraordinary," said Marsland.

He stood between her and the arm-chair so as to hide the dead body from her. She stepped aside as if to seek in the appearance of the dead man an explanation of the rifled pocket-book.

"Don't!" he said quickly, as he grasped her by the arm. "Do not touch it."

His desire to save her from a shock awoke her feminine intuition.

"You mean he has been murdered?" she whispered, in a voice of dismay.

SHE hurried from the room in terror. Marsland remained a few minutes examining the papers that had been taken from the pocket-book.

With the lamp in his hand he was compelled to descend cautiously, and when he reached the foot of the staircase the girl had left the house. He extinguished the lamp he was carrying, relit the lantern, and stepped outside. The lantern showed him the girl waiting for him some distance down the path.

"Oh, let us leave this dreadful house," she cried as he approached. "Please take me out of it. I am not frightened of the storm--now."

"I will take you wherever you wish to go," he said gently. "Will you tell me where you live? I will accompany you home."

"You are very good," she said gratefully. "I live at Ashlingsea."

"That is the little fishing village at the end of the cliff road, is it not?" he said inquiringly. "I am staying at Staveley, but I have not been there long. Come, I will take you home, and then I will inform the police about--this tragic discovery."

"There is a police station at Ashlingsea," she said, in a low voice.

He explained to her that he wanted to look after the comfort of his horse before he accompanied her home, as it would be necessary to leave the animal at the farm until the following day. She murmured a faint acquiescence, and when they reached the storehouse she took the lantern from him without speaking, and held it up to give him light while he made his horse comfortable for the night.

They then set out for Ashlingsea. The violence of the storm had passed, but the wind occasionally blew in great gusts from the sea, compelling them to halt in order to stand up against it. The night was still very black, but at intervals a late moon managed to send a watery beam through the scudding storm clouds, revealing the pathway of the winding cliff road, and the turbulent frothing waste of water dashing on the rocks below. Rain continued to fall in heavy frequent showers, but the minds of Marsland and his companion were so occupied with what they had seen in the old farm-house that they were scarcely conscious of the discomfort of getting wet.

The girl was so unnerved by the discovery of the dead body that she was glad to avail herself of the protection and support of Marsland's arm. Several times as she thought she saw a human form in the darkness of the road, she uttered a cry of alarm and clung to his arm with both hands. At every step she expected to encounter a maniac who had the blood of one human creature on his hands and was still swayed by the impulse to kill.

The reserve she had exhibited in the house had broken down, and she talked freely in her desire to shut out from her mental vision the spectacle of the murdered man sitting in the arm-chair.

On the other hand, the discovery of the body had made Marsland reserved and thoughtful.

He learned from her that her name was Maynard--Elsie Maynard--and that she lived with her widowed mother. Marsland was quick to gather from the cultivated accents of her voice that she was a refined and educated girl. He concluded that Mrs. Maynard must be a lady of some social standing in the district, and he judged from what he had seen of the girl's clothes that she was in good circumstances. She remarked that her mother would be anxious about her, but would doubtless assume she had sought shelter somewhere, as having lived in Ashlingsea for a long time she knew everybody in the district.

Marsland thought it strange that she made no reference to the companion who had accompanied her to the farm. If no one accompanied her, how was it that on opening the door to him she had greeted him as some one whom she had been expecting? She seemed unconscious of the need of enlightening him on this point. Her thoughts centred round the dead man to such an extent that her conversation related chiefly to him. Half-unconsciously she revealed that she knew him well, but her acquaintance with him seemed to be largely based on the circumstance that the dead man had been acquainted with a friend of her family: a soldier of the new army, who lived at Staveley.

She had told Marsland that the name of the murdered man was Frank Lumsden, but she did not mention the name of the soldier at Staveley. Lumsden had served in France as a private, but had returned wounded and had been invalided out of the army. He had been captured by the Germans during a night attack, had been shot through the palm of his right hand to prevent him using a rifle again, and had been left behind when the Germans were forced to retreat from the village they had captured. After being invalided out of the Army he had returned home to live in the old farm-house--Cliff Farm it was called--which had been left to him by his grandfather, who had died while the young man was in France. The old man had lived in a state of terror during the last few months of his life, as he was convinced that the Germans were going to invade England, destroy everything, and murder the population as they had done in Belgium. He ceased to farm his land, he dismissed his men, and shut himself up in his house.

His housekeeper, Mrs. Thorpe, who had been in his service for thirty years, refused to leave him, and insisted on remaining to look after him. When he died as the result of injuries received in falling downstairs, it was found that he had left most of his property to his grandson, Frank, but he had also left legacies to Mrs. Thorpe and two of the men who had been in his employ for a generation. But these legacies had not been paid because there was no money with which to pay them. Soon after the outbreak of the war the old man had drawn all his money out of the bank and had realized all his investments. It was thought that he had done this because of his fear of a German invasion.

What he had done with the money no one knew. Most people thought he had buried it for safety, intending to dig it up when the war was over. There was a rumour that he had buried it on the farm. Another rumour declared that he had buried it in the sands at the foot of the cliffs, for towards the end of his life he was often seen walking alone on the sands. In his younger days he had combined fishing with farming, and there was still a boat in the old boat-house near the cliffs. Several people tried digging in likely places in the sands after his death, but they did not find any trace of the money. Other people said that Frank Lumsden knew where the money was hidden--that his grandfather had left a plan explaining where he had buried it.

"What about the piece of paper with the mysterious plan on it which we found on the staircase?" said Marsland. "Do you think that had anything to do with the hidden money?"

"I never thought of that," she said. "Perhaps it had."

"We left it on the table in the room downstairs," he said. "I think we ought to go back for it, as it may have something to do with the murder."

"Don't go back," she said. "I could not bear to go back. The paper will be there when the police go. No one will go there in the meantime, so it will be quite safe."

"But you remember that his pocket-book had been rifled," he said, as he halted to discuss the question of returning. "May not that plan have been taken from his pocket-book after he was dead?"

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