Authors: George W. M. Reynolds,James Malcolm Rymer
"With
the picture?"
"No,
he left the picture behind. Well, we were very tired and bruised, and we sat
down to recover ourselves from our fatigue, and to consider what was best to be
done; but we were some time before we could leave, and then we determined that
we would take the picture away with us, as it seemed to be coveted by the
robber, for what object we cannot tell."
"Well,
well—where is the picture?"
"You
shall hear all about it in a minute, if you'll let me take my time. I am tired
and sore. Well, we brought the picture out, and Jack helped me carry it till he
came within a couple of hundred yards of the cottage, and there left me."
"The
lubber!" said the admiral, interjectionally.
"Well,
I rested awhile, and then taking the picture on my shoulders, I proceeded along
with it until I came to the wall, when suddenly I heard a great shout, and then
down came something heavy upon me, just as if a man had jumped down upon
me."
"And—and—"
"Yes,"
said the doctor, "it was—"
"Was
what?" inquired the admiral.
"Just
what you all seemed to anticipate; you are all before me, but that was
it."
"A
man?"
"Yes;
I had a struggle with him, and got nearly killed, for I am not equal to him in
strength. I was sadly knocked about, and finally all the senses were knocked
out of me, and I was, I suppose, left for dead."
"And
what became of the picture?"
"I
don't know; but I suppose it was taken away, as, when I came to myself, it was
gone; indeed, I have some faint recollection of seeing him seize the portrait
as I was falling."
There
was a pause of some moments, during which all the party appeared to be employed
with their own thoughts, and the whole were silent.
"Do
you think it was the same man who attacked you in the house that obtained the
picture?" at last inquired Henry Bannerworth.
"I
cannot say, but I think it most probable that it was the same; indeed, the
general appearance, as near as I could tell in the dark, was the same; but what
I look upon as much stronger is, the object appears to be the same in both
cases."
"That
is very true," said Henry Bannerworth—"very true; and I think it more
than probable myself. But come, doctor, you will require rest and nursing after
your dangers."
THE ALARM AT ANDERBURY.—THE SUSPICIONS OF THE BANNERWORTH
FAMILY, AND THE MYSTERIOUS COMMUNICATION.
About
twenty miles to the southward of Bannerworth Hall was a good-sized market-town,
called Anderbury. It was an extensive and flourishing place, and from the
beauty of its situation, and its contiguity to the southern coast of England,
it was much admired; and, in consequence, numerous mansions and villas of great
pretension had sprang up in its immediate neighbourhood.
Betides,
there were some estates of great value, and one of these, called
Anderbury-on-the-Mount, in consequence of the mansion itself, which was of an
immense extent, being built upon an eminence, was to be let, or sold.
This
town of Anderbury was remarkable not only for the beauty of its aspect, but
likewise for the quiet serenity of its inhabitants, who were a prosperous,
thriving race, and depended very much upon their own resources.
There
were some peculiar circumstances why Anderbury-on-the-Mount was to let. It had
been for a great number of years in possession of a family of the name of
Milltown, who had resided there in great comfort and respectability, until an
epidemic disorder broke out, first among the servants, and then spreading to
the junior branches of the family, and from them to their seniors, produced
such devastation, that in the course of three weeks there was but one young man
left of the whole family, and he, by native vigour of constitution, had baffled
the disorder, and found himself alone in his ancestral halls, the last of his
race.
Soon
a settled melancholy took possession of him, and all that had formerly
delighted him now gave him pain, inasmuch as it brought to his mind a host of
recollections of the most agonising character.
In
vain was it that the surrounding gentry paid him every possible attention, and
endeavoured to do all that was in their power to alleviate the unhappy circumstances
in which he was placed. If he smiled, it was in a sad sort, and that was very
seldom; and at length he announced his intention of leaving the neighbourhood,
and seeking abroad, and in change of scene, for that solace which he could not
expect to find in his ancestral home, after what had occurred within its
ancient walls.
There
was not a chamber but which reminded him of the past—there was not a tree or a
plant of any kind or description but which spoke to him plainly of those who
were now no more, and whose merry laughter had within his own memory made that
ancient place echo with glee, filling the sunny air with the most gladsome
shouts, such as come from the lips of happy youth long before the world has
robbed it of any of its romance or its beauty.
There
was a general feeling of regret when this young man announced the fact of his
departure to a foreign land; for he was much respected, and the known
calamities which he had suffered, and the grief under which he laboured,
invested his character with a great and painful interest.
An
entertainment was given to him upon the eve of his departure, and on the next
day he was many miles from the place, and the estate of Anderbury-on-the-Mount
was understood to be sold or let.
The
old mansion had remained, then, for a year or two vacant, for it was a place of
too much magnitude, and required by far too expensive an establishment to keep
it going, to enable any person whose means were not very large to think of
having anything to do with it.
So,
therefore, it remained unlet, and wearing that gloomy aspect which a large
house, untenanted, so very quickly assumes.
It
was quite a melancholy thing to look upon it, and to think what it must have
once been, and what it might be still, compared to what it actually was; and
the inhabitants of the neighbourhood had made up their minds that
Anderbury-on-the-Mount would remain untenanted for many a year to come, and,
perhaps, ultimately fall into ruin and decay.
But
in this they were doomed to be disappointed, for, on the evening of a dull and
gloomy day, about one week after the events we have recorded as taking place at
Bannerworth Hall and its immediate neighbourhood, a travelling carriage, with
four horses and an out-rider, came dashing into the place, and drew up at the
principal inn in the town, which was called the Anderbury Arms.
The
appearance of such an equipage, although not the most unusual thing in the
world, in consequence of the many aristocratic families who resided in the
neighbourhood, caused, at all events, some sensation, and, perhaps, the more so
because it drove up to the inn instead of to any of the mansions of the
neighbourhood, thereby showing that the stranger, whoever he was, came not as a
visitor, but either merely baited in the town, being on his road somewhere
else, or had some special business in it which would soon be learned.
The
out-rider, who was in handsome livery, had gallopped on in advance of the
carriage a short distance, for the purpose of ordering the best apartments in
the inn to be immediately prepared for the reception of his master.
"Who
is he?" asked the landlord.
"It's
the Baron Stolmuyer Saltsburgh."
"Bless
my heart, I never heard of him before; where did he come from—somewhere abroad
I suppose?"
"I
can't tell you anything of him further than that he is immensely rich, and is
looking for a house. He has heard that there is one to let in this immediate
neighbourhood, and that's what has brought him from London, I suppose."
"Yes,
there is one; and it is called Anderbury-on-the-Mount."
"Well,
he will very likely speak to you about it himself, for here he comes."
By
this time the carriage had halted at the door of the hotel, and, the door being
opened, and the steps lowered, there alighted from it a tall man attired in a
kind of pelisse, or cloak, trimmed with rich fur, the body of it being composed
of velvet. Upon his head he wore a travelling cap, and his fingers, as he
grasped the cloak around him, were seen to be covered with rings of great
value.
Such
a personage, coming in such style, was, of course, likely to be honoured in
every possible way by the landlord of the inn, and accordingly he was shown
most obsequiously to the handsomest apartment in the house, and the whole
establishment was put upon the alert to attend to any orders he might choose to
give.
He
had not been long in the place when he sent for the landlord, who, hastily
scrambling on his best coat, and getting his wife to arrange the tie of his
neckcloth, proceeded to obey the orders of his illustrious guest, whatever they
might chance to be.
He
found the Baron Stolmuyer reclining upon a sofa, and having thrown aside his
velvet cloak, trimmed with rich fur, he showed that underneath it he wore a
costume of great richness and beauty, although, certainly, the form it covered
was not calculated to set it off to any great advantage, for the baron was
merely skin and bone, and looked like a man who had just emerged from a long
illness, for his face was ghastly pale, and the landlord could not help
observing that there was a strange peculiarity about his eyes, the reason of
which he could not make out.
"You
are the landlord of this inn, I presume," said the baron, "and,
consequently, no doubt well acquainted with the neighbourhood?"
"I
have the honour to be all that, sir. I have been here about sixteen years, and
in that time I certainly ought to know something of the neighbourhood."
"'Tis
well; some one told me there was a little cottage sort of place to let here,
and as I am simple and retired in my habits I thought that it might possibly
suit me."
"A
little cottage, sir! There are certainly little cottages to let, but not such
as would suit you; and if I might have presumed, sir, to think, I should have
considered Anderbury-on-the-Mount, which is now to let, would have been the
place for you. It is a large place, sir, and belonged to a good family,
although they are now all dead and gone, except one, and it's he who wants to
let the old place."
"Anderbury-on-the-Mount,"
said the baron, "was the name of the place mentioned to me; but I
understood it was a little place."
"Oh!
sir, that is quite a mistake; who told you so? It's the largest place about
here; there are a matter of twenty-seven rooms in it, and it stands altogether
upon three hundred acres of ground."
"And
have you the assurance," said the baron, "to call that anything but a
cottage, when the castle of the Stolmuyers, at Saltzburgh, has one suite of
reception rooms thirty in number, opening into each other, and the total number
of apartments in the whole building is two hundred and sixty, it is surrounded
by eight miles of territory."
"The
devil!" said the landlord. "I beg your pardon, sir, but when I am
astonished, I generally say the devil. They want eight hundred pounds a year
for Anderbury-on-the-Mount."
"A
mere trifle. I will sleep here to-night, and in the morning I will go and look
at the place. It is near the sea?"
"Half
a mile, sir, exactly, from the beach; and one of the most curious circumstances
of all connected with it is, that there is a subterranean passage from the
grounds leading right away down to the sea-coast. A most curious place, sir,
partly cut out of the cliff, with cellars in it for wine, and other matters,
that in the height of summer are kept as cool as in the deep winter time. It's
more for curiosity than use, such a place; and the old couple, that now take
care of the house, make a pretty penny, I'll be bound, though they won't own
it, by showing that part of the place."
"It
may suit me, but I shall be able to give a decisive answer when I see it on the
morrow. You will let my attendants have what they require, and see that my
horses be well looked to."
"Certainly,
oh! certainly, sir, of course; you might go far, indeed, sir, before you found
an inn where everything would be done as things are done here. Is there
anything in particular, sir, you would like for dinner?"
"How
can I tell that, idiot, until the dinner time arrives?"
"Well,
but, sir, in that case, you know, we scarcely know what to do, because you see,
sir, you understand—"
"It
is very strange to me that you can neither see nor understand your duty. I am
accustomed to having the dinner tables spread with all that money can procure;
then I choose, but not before, what it suits me to partake of."
"Wil,
sir, that is a very good way, and perhaps we ain't quite so used to that sort
of thing as we ought to be in these parts; but another time, sir, we shall know
better what we are about, without a doubt, and I only hope, sir, that we shall
have you in the neighbourhood for a long time; and so, sir, putting one thing
to another, and then drawing a conclusion from both of them, you see, sir, you
will be able to understand."
"Peace!
begone! what is the use of all this bellowing to me—I want it not—I care not
for it."
The
baron spoke these words so furiously, that the landlord was rather terrified
than otherwise, and left the room hastily, muttering to himself that he had
never come across such a tiger, and wondering where the baron could have
possibly come from, and what amount of wealth he could be possessed of, that
would enable him to live in such a princely style as he mentioned.
If
the Baron Stolmuyer of Saltzburgh had wished ever so much to impress upon the
minds of all persons in the neighbourhood the fact of his wealth and
importance, he could not have adopted a better plan to accomplish that object
than by first of all impressing such facts upon the mind of the landlord of the
Anderbury Arms, for in the course of another hour it was tolerably well spread
all over the town, that never had there been such a guest at the Anderbury
Arms; and that he called Anderbury-on-the-Mount, with all its rooms—all its
outbuildings, and its three hundred acres of ground, a cottage.
This
news spread like wildfire, awaking no end of speculation, and giving rise to
the most exaggerated rumours, so that a number of persons came to the inn on
purpose to endeavour to get a look at the baron; but he did not stir from his
apartments, so that these wondermongers were disappointed, and even forced to
go away as wise as they came; but in the majority of cases they made up their
minds that in the morning they should surely be able to obtain a glimpse of
him, which was considered a great treat, for a man with an immense income is
looked upon in England as a natural curiosity.
The
landlord took his guest at his word as regards the dinner, and provided such a
repast as seldom, indeed, graced the board at the Anderbury Arms—a repast
sufficient for twenty people, and certainly which was a monstrous thing to set
before one individual.
The
baron, however, made no remark, but selected a portion from some of the dishes,
and those dishes that he did select from, were of the simplest kind, and not
such as the landlord expected him to take, so that he really paid about one
hundred times the amount he ought to have done for what actually passed his
lips.
And
then what a fidget the landlord was in about his wines, for he doubted not but
such a guest would be extremely critical and hard to please; but, to his great
relief, the baron declined taking any wine, merely washing down his repast with
a tumbler of cool water; and then, although the hour was very early, he retired
at once to rest.