Master of Mysteries — To Prove an Alibi - Part 2

The more I thought, the more certain I was that Cressley was in grave danger; and I now determined, cost what it might, to get to him that night.

I left the station, took a cab, and drove back to my hotel.

I asked to see the manager.

A tall, dark man in a frock-coat emerged from a door at the back of the office and inquired what he could do for me.

I begged permission to speak to him alone, and we passed into his private room.

"I am in an extraordinary position," I began.

"Circumstances of a private nature make it absolutely necessary that I should go to a place called Cressley Hall, about fourteen miles from Brent.

Brent is sixty miles down the line, and the last train has gone.

I could take a 'special,' but there might be an interminable delay at Brent, and I prefer to drive straight to Cressley Hall across country.

Can you assist me by directing me to some good jobmaster from whom I can hire a carriage and horses?"

The man looked at me with raised eyebrows.

He evidently thought I was mad.

"I mean what I say," I added, "and am prepared to back my words with a substantial sum.

Can you help me?"

"I dare say you might get a carriage and horses to do it," he replied;

"but it is a very long way, and over a hilly country.

No two horses could go such a distance without rest.

You would have to change from time to time as you went.

I will send across to the hotel stables for my man, and you can see him about it."

He rang the bell and gave his orders.

In a few moments the jobmaster came in.

I hurriedly explained to him what I wanted.

At first he said it was impossible, that his best horses were out, and that those he had in his stables could not possibly attempt such a journey; but when I brought out my cheque-book and offered to advance any sum in reason, he hesitated.

"Of course there is one way in which it might be managed, sir.

I would take you myself as far as Ovenden, which is five-and-twenty miles from here.

There, I know, we could get a pair of fresh horses from the Swan;

and if we wired at once from here, horses might be ready at Carlton, which is another twenty miles on the road.

But, at our best, sir, it will be between two and three in the morning before we get to Brent."

"I am sorry to hear you say so," I answered; "but it is better to arrive then than to wait until to-morrow.

Please send the necessary telegram off without a moment's delay, and get the carriage ready."

"Put the horses in at once, John," said the manager.

"You had better take the light wagonette.

You ought to get there between one and two in the morning with that."

Then he added, as the man left the room,-- "I suppose, sir, your business is very urgent?"

"It is," I replied shortly.

He looked as if he would like to question me further, but refrained.

A few moments later I had taken my seat beside the driver, and we were speeding at a good round pace through the streets of Liverpool.

We passed quickly through the suburbs, and out into the open country.

The evening was a lovely one, and the country looked its best.

It was difficult to believe, as I drove through the peaceful landscape, that in all probability a dark deed was in contemplation, and that the young man to whom I had taken a most sincere liking was in danger of his life.

As I drove silently by my companion's side I reviewed the whole situation.

The more I thought of it the less I liked it.

On board the _Euphrates_ Wickham had been abnormally interested in Cressley.

Cressley had himself confided to him his superstitious dread with regard to the turret room.

Cressley had come home with a fortune; and if he floated his syndicate he would be a millionaire.

Wickham scarcely looked like a rich man.

Then why should he know Murdock, and why should a lay figure be put in Murdock's bed?

Why, also, through a most unnatural accident, should I have lost my train?

The more I thought, the graver and graver became my fears.

Gradually darkness settled over the land, and then a rising moon flooded the country in its weird light.

I had been on many a wild expedition before, but in some ways never a wilder than this.

Its very uncertainty, wrapped as it was in unformed suspicions, gave it an air of inexpressible mystery.

On and on we went, reaching Ovenden between nine and ten at night.

Here horses were ready for us, and we again started on our way.

When we got to Carlton, however, there came a hitch in my well-formed arrangements.

We drew up at the little inn, to find the place in total darkness, and all the inhabitants evidently in bed and asleep.

With some difficulty we roused the landlord, and asked why the horses which had been telegraphed for had not been got ready.

"We did not get them when the second telegram arrived," was the reply.

"The second telegram!"

I cried, my heart beating fast.

"What do you mean?"

"There were two, sir, both coming from the same stables.

The first was written desiring us to have the horses ready at any cost.

The second contradicted the first, and said that the gentleman had changed his mind, and was not going.

On receipt of that, sir, I shut up the house as usual, and we all went to bed.

I am very sorry if there has been any mistake."

"There has, and a terrible one," I could not help muttering under my breath.

My fears were getting graver than ever.

Who had sent the second telegram?

Was it possible that I had been followed by Wickham, who took these means of circumventing me?

"We must get horses, and at once," I said.

"Never mind about the second telegram; it was a mistake."

Peach, the jobmaster, muttered an oath.

"I can't understand what is up," he said.

He looked mystified and not too well pleased.

Then he added,-- "These horses can't go another step, sir."

"They must if we can get no others," I said.

I went up to him, and began to whisper in his ear.

"This is a matter of life and death, my good friend.

Only the direst necessity takes me on this journey.

The second telegram without doubt was sent by a man whom I am trying to circumvent.

I know what I am saying.

We must get horses, or these must go on.

We have not an instant to lose.

There is a conspiracy afoot to do serious injury to the owner of Cressley Hall."

"What!

the young gentleman who has just come from Australia?

You don't mean to say he is in danger?"

said Peach.

"He is in the gravest danger.

I don't mind who knows.

I have reason for my fears."

While I was speaking the landlord drew near.

He overheard some of my last words.

The landlord and Peach now exchanged glances.

After a moment the landlord spoke,-- "A neighbour of ours, sir, has got two good horses," he said.

"He is the doctor in this village.

I believe he'll lend them if the case is as urgent as you say."

"Go and ask him," I cried.

"You shall have ten pounds if we are on the road in five minutes from the present moment."

At this hint the landlord flew.

He came back in an incredibly short space of time, accompanied by the doctor's coachman leading the horses.

They were quickly harnessed to the wagonette, and once more we started on our way.

"Now drive as you never drove before in the whole course of your life," I said to Peach.

"Money is no object.

We have still fifteen miles to go, and over a rough country.

You can claim any reward in reason if you get to Cressley Hall within an hour."

"It cannot be done, sir," he replied; but then he glanced at me, and some of the determination in my face was reflected in his.

He whipped up the horses.

They were thoroughbred animals, and worked well under pressure.

We reached the gates of Cressley Hall between two and three in the morning.

Here I thought it best to draw up, and told my coachman that I should not need his services any longer.

"If you are afraid of mischief, sir, would it not be best for me to lie about here?"

he asked.

"I'd rather be in the neighbourhood in case you want me.

I am interested in this here job, sir."

"You may well be, my man.

God grant it is not a black business.

Well, walk the horses up and down, if you like.

If you see nothing of me within the next couple of hours, judge that matters are all right, and return with the horses to Carlton."

This being arranged, I turned from Peach and entered the lodge gates.

Just inside was a low cottage surrounded by trees.

I paused for a moment to consider what I had better do.

My difficulty now was how to obtain admittance to the Hall, for of course it would be shut up and all its inhabitants asleep at this hour.

Suddenly an idea struck me.

I

determined to knock up the lodge-keeper, and to enlist her assistance.

I

went across to the door, and presently succeeded in rousing the inmates.

A woman of about fifty appeared.

I explained to her my position, and begged of her to give me her help.

She hesitated at first in unutterable astonishment; but then, seeing something in my face which convinced her, I suppose, of the truth of my story, for it was necessary to alarm her in order to induce her to do anything, she said she would do what I wished.

"I know the room where Mitchell, the old housekeeper, sleeps," she said, "and we can easily wake him by throwing stones up at his window.

If you'll just wait a minute I'll put a shawl over my head and go with you."

She ran into an inner room and quickly re-appeared.

Together we made our way along the drive which, far as I could see, ran through a park studded with old timber.

We went round the house to the back entrance, and the woman, after a delay of two or three moments, during which I was on thorns, managed to wake up Mitchell the housekeeper.

He came to his window, threw it open, and poked out his head.

"What can be wrong?"

he said.

"It is Mr. Bell, James," was the reply, "the gentleman who has been expected at the Hall all the evening; he has come now, and wants you to admit him."

The old man said that he would come downstairs.

He did so, and opening a door, stood in front of it, barring my entrance.

"Are you really the gentleman Mr. Cressley has been expecting?"

he said.

"I am," I replied; "I missed my train, and was obliged to drive out.

There is urgent need why I should see your master immediately; where is he?"

"I hope in bed, sir, and asleep; it is nearly three o'clock in the morning."

"Never mind the hour," I said; "I must see Mr. Cressley immediately.

Can you take me to his room?"

"If I am sure that you are Mr. John Bell," said the old man, glancing at me with not unnatural suspicion.

"Rest assured on that point.

Here, this is my card, and here is a telegram which I received to-day from your master."

"But master sent no telegram to-day."

"You must be mistaken, this is from him."

"I don't understand it, sir, but you look honest, and I suppose I must trust you."

"You will do well to do so," I said.

He moved back and I entered the house.

He took me down a passage, and then into a lofty chamber, which probably was the old banqueting-hall.

As well as I could see by the light of the candle, it was floored, and panelled with black oak.

Round the walls stood figures of knights in armour, with flags and banners hanging from the panels above.

I

followed the old man up a broad staircase and along endless corridors to a more distant part of the building.

We turned now abruptly to our right, and soon began to ascend some turret stairs.

"In which room is your master?"

I asked.

"This is his room, sir," said the man.

He stood still and pointed to a door.

"Stay where you are; I may want you," I said.

I seized his candle, and holding it above my head, opened the door.

The room was a large one, and when I entered was in total darkness.

I

fancied I heard a rustling in the distance, but could see no one.

Then, as my eyes got accustomed to the faint light caused by the candle, I observed at the further end of the chamber a large four-poster bedstead.

I immediately noticed something very curious about it.

I turned round to the old housekeeper.

"Did you really say that Mr. Cressley was sleeping in this room?"

I

asked.

"Yes, sir; he must be in bed some hours ago.

I left him in the library hunting up old papers, and he told me he was tired and was going to rest early."

"He is not in the bed," I said.

"Not in the bed, sir!

Good God!"

a note of horror came into the man's voice.

"What in the name of fortune is the matter with the bed?"

As the man spoke I rushed forward.

Was it really a bed at all?

If it was, I had never seen a stranger one.

Upon it, covering it from head to foot, was a thick mattress, from the sides of which tassels were hanging.

There was no human being lying on the mattress, nor was it made up with sheets and blankets like an ordinary bed.

I glanced above me.

The posts at the four corners of the bedstead stood like masts.

I saw at once what had happened.

The canopy had descended upon the bed.

Was Cressley beneath?

With a shout I desired the old man to come forward, and between us we seized the mattress, and exerting all our force, tried to drag it from the bed.

In a moment I saw it was fixed by cords that held it tightly in its place.

Whipping out my knife, I severed these, and then hurled the heavy weight from the bed.

Beneath lay Cressley, still as death.

I put my hand on his heart and uttered a thankful exclamation.

It was still beating.

I was in time; I had saved him.

After all, nothing else mattered during that supreme moment of thankfulness.

A

few seconds longer beneath that smothering mass and he would have been dead.

By what a strange sequence of events had I come to his side just in the nick of time!

"We must take him from this room before he recovers consciousness," I said to the old man, who was surprised and horror-stricken.

"But, sir, in the name of Heaven, what has happened?"

"Let us examine the bed, and I will tell you," I said.

I held up the candle as I spoke.

A glance at the posts was all-sufficient to show me how the deed had been done.

The canopy above, on which the heavy mattress had been placed, was held in position by strong cords which ran through pulleys at the top of the posts.

These were thick and heavy enough to withstand the strain.

When the cords were released, the canopy, with its heavy weight, must quickly descend upon the unfortunate sleeper, who would be smothered beneath it in a few seconds.

Who had planned and executed this murderous device?

There was not a soul to be seen.

"We will take Mr. Cressley into another room and then come back," I said to the housekeeper.

"Is there one where we can place him?"

"Yes, sir," was the instant reply; "there's a room on the next floor which was got ready for you."

"Capital," I answered; "we will convey him there at once."

We did so, and after using some restoratives, he came to himself.

When he saw me he gazed at me with an expression of horror on his face.

"Am I alive, or is it a dream?"

he said.

"You are alive, but you have had a narrow escape of your life," I answered.

I then told him how I had found him.

He sat up as I began to speak, and as I continued my narrative his eyes dilated with an expression of terror which I have seldom seen equalled.

"You do not know what I have lived through," he said at last.

"I only wonder I retain my reason.

Oh, that awful room!

no wonder men died and went mad there!"

"Well, speak, Cressley; I am all attention," I said; "you will be the better when you have unburdened yourself."

"I can tell you what happened in a few words," he answered.

"You know I mentioned the horrid sort of presentiment I had about coming here at all.

That first night I could not make up my mind to sleep in the house, so I went to the little inn at Brent.

I received your telegram yesterday, and went to meet you by the last train.

When you did not come, I had a tussle with myself; but I could think of no decent excuse for deserting the old place, and so came back.

My intention was to sit up the greater part of the night arranging papers in the library.

The days are long now, and I thought I might go to bed when morning broke.

I

was irresistibly sleepy, however, and went up to my room soon after one o'clock.

I was determined to think of nothing unpleasant, and got quickly into bed, taking the precaution first to lock the door.

I placed the key under my pillow, and, being very tired, soon fell into a heavy sleep.

I awoke suddenly, after what seemed but a few minutes, to find the room dark, for the moon must just have set.

I was very sleepy, and I wondered vaguely why I had awakened; and then suddenly, without warning, and without cause, a monstrous, unreasonable fear seized me.

An indefinable intuition told me that I was not alone--that some horrible presence was near.

I do not think the certainty of immediate death could have inspired me with a greater dread than that which suddenly came upon me.

I dared not stir hand nor foot.

My powers of reason and resistance were paralysed.

At last, by an immense effort, I nerved myself to see the worst.

Slowly, very slowly, I turned my head and opened my eyes.

Against the tapestry at the further corner of the room, in the dark shadow, stood a figure.

It stood out quite boldly, emanating from itself a curious light.

I had no time to think of phosphorus.

It never occurred to me that any trick was being played upon me.

I felt certain that I was looking at my ancestor, Barrington Cressley, who had come back to torture me in order to make me give up possession.

The figure was that of a man six feet high, and broad in proportion.

The face was bent forward and turned toward me, but in the uncertain light I could neither see the features nor the expression.

The figure stood as still as a statue, and was evidently watching me.

At the end of a moment, which seemed to me an eternity, it began to move, and, with a slow and silent step, approached me.

I lay perfectly still, every muscle braced, and watched the figure between half-closed eyelids.

It was now within a foot or two of me, and I could distinctly see the face.

What was my horror to observe that it wore the features of my agent Murdock.

"'Murdock!'

I cried, the word coming in a strangled sound from my throat.

The next instant he had sprung upon me.

I heard a noise of something rattling above, and saw a huge shadow descending upon me.

I

did not know what it was, and I felt certain that I was being murdered.

The next moment all was lost in unconsciousness.

Bell, how queer you look!

Was it--was it Murdock?

But it could not have been; he was very ill in bed at Liverpool.

What in the name of goodness was the awful horror through which I had lived?"

"I can assure you on one point," I answered; "it was no ghost.

And as to Murdock, it is more than likely that you did see him."

I then told the poor fellow what I had discovered with regard to the agent, and also my firm conviction that Wickham was at the bottom of it.

Cressley's astonishment was beyond bounds, and I saw at first that he scarcely believed me; but when I said that it was my intention to search the house, he accompanied me.

We both, followed by Mitchell, returned to the ill-fated room; but, though we examined the tapestry and panelling, we could not find the secret means by which the villain had obtained access to the chamber.

"The carriage which brought me here is still waiting just outside the lodge gates," I said.

"What do you say to leaving this place at once, and returning, at least, as far as Carlton?

We might spend the remainder of the night there, and take the very first train to Liverpool."

"Anything to get away," said Cressley.

"I do not feel that I can ever come back to Cressley Hall again."

"You feel that now, but by-and-by your sensations will be different," I answered.

As I spoke I called Mitchell to me.

I desired him to go at once to the lodge gates and ask the driver of the wagonette to come down to the Hall.

This was done, and half an hour afterwards Cressley and I were on our way back to Carlton.

Early the next morning we went to Liverpool.

There we visited the police, and I asked to have a warrant taken out for the apprehension of Murdock.

The superintendent, on hearing my tale, suggested that we should go at once to Murdock's house in Melville Gardens.

We did so, but it was empty, Murdock, his wife, and Wickham having thought it best to decamp.

The superintendent insisted, however, on having the house searched, and in a dark closet at the top we came upon a most extraordinary contrivance.

This was no less than an exact representation of the agent's head and neck in wax.

In it was a wonderfully skilful imitation of a human larynx, which, by a cunning mechanism of clockwork, could be made exactly to simulate the breathing and low moaning of a human being.

This the man had, of course, utilized with the connivance of his wife and Wickham in order to prove an alibi, and the deception was so complete that only my own irresistible curiosity could have enabled me to discover the secret.

That night the police were fortunate enough to capture both Murdock and Wickham in a Liverpool slum.

Seeing that all was up, the villains made complete confession, and the whole of the black plot was revealed.

It appeared that two adventurers, the worst form of scoundrels, knew of Cressley's great discovery in Western Australia, and had made up their minds to forestall him in his claim.