Читать книгу The Curse - Fergus Hume - Страница 6

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In spite of Minister’s loudly expressed declaration that he would remain for an indefinite period at Hepworth, his lifelong friend knew him too well to believe that he would hold firmly to such determination. Borrin was well aware that the traveller was one of those restless people who are never satisfied with surrounding circumstances for any great length of time. Moreover, Minister was so accustomed to travelling that constant movement had strengthened his love of change. However, Borrin believed that the strong friendship between them would induce the new-comer to stay at the Harper Inn for a few weeks. Longer than that he could not hope to keep his too-active friend. “You’re more like a fly than a human being, Theo,” said Borrin, when Minister made his daily appearance at the Manor. “You settle on nothing for more than a second. At your age you should try and cultivate sitting still.”

Minister, who looked more untidy than ever, clutched his shaggy beard with two great hands and laughed in his usual stentorian fashion. “Legs were given us to walk, and eyes to see, and brains to fill with knowledge of the wide, wide world,” he roared gleefully. “I go round the world, Josiah, while you sit and watch the world go round; that is all the difference between us.”

“A very great difference,” replied Borrin with his quiet smile.

"Well, well! It takes many to make a world, and it would never do if we were all alike. Would Columbus have discovered America had he been Josiah Borrin?”

“Oh, I’m not so stay-at-home as all that,” rejoined the neat little man, adjusting his smooth, brown wig; “I have travelled in my time, remember, Theo.”

“Pooh,” said Minister with the contempt of the gipsy for the house-dweller, “your travelling amounts to nothing—simply nothing. You certainly went on that scientific expedition to Paraguay fifteen years ago, but five years of exploration was enough for you. Since then you have vegetated here.”

“Quite so, but I could not have vegetated, as you call it, had I not found the Inca treasure along with you, Theo. That is, you found it, and were good enough to let me share it.”

“Pooh! pooh! You helped, Josiah, by translating the document which revealed its whereabouts. I found the script and you put it into English; I owe you as much as you owe me. I am glad you have the money as you will live a long time to enjoy it, since you are just over fifty, and your health is good.”

“Thank God for that, Theo,” said Borrin reverently; “you will live long also I sincerely trust. You are only sixty.”

“A few months off,” said Minister carelessly. “Bless you there is so much to see in this world that I intend to live until one hundred, wearing out, and not rusting out. When I am eighty or thereabouts I shall return here and marry Lavinia. I always had an admiration for Lavinia, although she did talk nineteen to the dozen.”

“She doesn’t talk so much now, Theo.”

“No, by Jupiter! Her tongue’s grown rusty from living here. Venery’s dead?”

“Died eight years ago, and a very merciful thing it was,” said Borrin seriously. “He never was a good man. Then I asked Lavinia to come here to look after me. She is an admirable housekeeper, and is much less flighty than she used to be.”

“She has changed from a parrot into an owl,” said the doctor caustically, “though I can’t say that I’ve heard much of her wisdom. But, Ida—ah, there now!—she’s clever, if you like. I tell you what, Josiah—but, no, I shan’t tell you anything just now. My legs are stiff from sitting still. Let us go round the domain,” and Minister, who had been seated for just ten minutes, jumped up with the agility of a boy.

Borrin humoured him, although he thought regretfully of the long morning’s work connected with the classification of herbs which could not now be done. It was impossible to concentrate on any subject when Minister was in the vicinity, “Come then, I can give you an hour.”

“Quite long enough,” shouted Minister, following his host from the library. “I can easily make myself acquainted with the geography of the place in sixty minutes. Then I shall go back to midday dinner with Mrs Heasy’s gossip to help digestion, and afterwards intend to take a long spin into the country to see the Abbey.”

“Why do you wish to see the Abbey?” asked Borrin, stopping short.

“It’s one of your show places hereabouts, isn’t it? Why shouldn’t I wish to see the Abbey?”

“Natural enough no doubt. But, knowing your insatiable curiosity, Theo, I suspect that your mind is running on that silly story of a possible secret in connection with a black cell.”

“It is,” admitted Minister violently; “but I have not yet heard the story.”

“I’ll tell it to you myself,” said Borrin soothingly. “There is really nothing in it, believe me. Meanwhile, let us go round the house and grounds.”

Although the traveller was intensely curious regarding the secret of the Bally family, he decided to see over the Manor, and learning all he could about it, before asking further questions. Like a great bull-elephant he rolled after Borrin, upstairs, downstairs, along passages, into rooms, and out of rooms. Nor did he express himself satisfied until he had explored the whole house from attics to cellars. Dr Minister was nothing if not thorough in his investigations.

The Manor was a rambling old mansion, formerly the property of a county family who had gambled away their house and acres. It had been quite ruinous when Borrin became the owner, as he informed his friend. But the little man, by spending money and taking care, and devoting time to the business, had converted the tumble-down dwelling into a very comfortable and up-to-date habitation. The Manor was now as neat as Borrin was himself, and as the restorations had been carried out in accordance with the original plan of the mansion the result was markedly artistic. Kitchen, cellars, and servants’ quarters in the basement; drawing-room, dining-room, library, boudoir, and breakfast-room on the ground floor; and many comfortable bedrooms on the first floor under the roomy garrets which were immediately beneath the sloping roof of red tiles: all these were perfect after their kind, and furnished in a most complete manner. Minister tramped back to the library, loudly approving of his friend’s cleverness and taste and patient changing of the old into the new.

“But I like this room best, Theo,” he said, standing with his big legs apart and surveying the library; “it’s cheerful, and confoundedly comfortable.”

It was all that. As the prevailing colour of the drawing-room was green, so the note struck in the library was blue. The walls were of smooth azure plaster, and the book-shelves ranged against them of light-hued oak. The big writing-table in the deep bow-window was also of yellowish oak; and the chairs, of similar wood, had coarse canvas cushions of palest blue. Without any pattern the carpet spread to the four walls as cerulean as a spring sky, and even the glass ornaments on the white marble mantelpiece were of the same tint. There was little furniture in the room, so that ample space was given for the perplexed student to walk about and jog his thoughts with exercise. Minister quite approved of the airy lightness of the place, and the gracious peace of the dominant colour.

“One could have good thoughts here, Josiah,” he said, looking round; “upon my word, I wouldn’t mind settling down here myself.”

“It is as much yours as mine, Theo,” said Borrin, smiling kindly; “but you wouldn’t be here for a week before those restless legs of yours would carry you off to some distant quarter of the world.”

“Humph! I dare say you are right, Josiah; but I intend to stay here until I learn that secret connected with the Bally family.”

“Pish! There is no secret,” cried Borrin, testily.

“Leave me to judge of that, Josiah,” retorted Minister, producing a large pipe of the kind sold in Nuremburg with a china bowl and a curving stem. “Sit down and tell me the legend.”

Knowing Minister’s obstinacy Borrin did as he was requested, and took his seat in the chair standing before the writing-table. “Such as it is, the tale runs thus, Theo. The Abbey was given by Henry VIII. to Amyas Bally, who was a Court favourite. All the monks were turned out, and the new owner took possession, destroying the church to build his mansion. What remains of the Abbey itself is in ruins, and very picturesque ruins they are, as you will see.”

“I certainly shall see,” said the doctor determinedly. “I intend to examine every inch of the ground to find the secret.”

“I tell you there is no secret,” insisted Borrin, settling his wig in a frenzy of despair at failing to make his friend see sense; “there is only some nonsense about a black cell.”

“Well, and what is the black cell?”

“It was,” said Borrin, with emphasis on the last word, “the cell of a monk who refused to leave the Abbey with the rest of the brethren. He was supposed to be a magician—”

“Pooh, pooh, pooh!”

“I told you it was rubbish,” said Borrin serenely; “but this Brother Thomas had such a reputation as a master of the Black Art that Amyas Bally did not dare to force him to leave. He stayed on in the cell, wherein he had always lived, and vanished one night. It was said by the superstitious that the devil he served carried him bodily away. However, he left a parchment behind him which cursed the Bally family to all generations until the black cell should be destroyed.”

“Well, and why hasn’t it been destroyed?”

“Because it never was found, and no one knows where it is. Brother Thomas appeared and disappeared at intervals, but where the famous cell was to be found no one ever knew, and no one—according to the legend—ever will know.”

“Humph!” said Minister disbelievingly, and puffing huge clouds of smoke, “I don’t believe that Brother Thomas vanished. He found the place too hot for him, and so lay low, like Br’er Rabbit, in his hidden cell, until he died.”

Borrin shrugged his shoulders. “Possibly! Report says that he is alive.”

“Does it? Your legend appears to be somewhat contradictory. First you give an authoritative opinion that Brother Thomas was carried off by the devil, and then you say that he is alive—after three hundred years too. Pooh!”

“I echo your exclamation,” retorted the little doctor laughing; “you can see for yourself that the legend is nonsense with its many contradictions. However, the parchment with the curse which was found on the remains of the high altar certainly did some mischief.”

“What is the mischief?”

“No one knows.”

“Then how the deuce,” Minister used a stronger word, “can anyone be certain that there is mischief, or that the silly old fool’s curse had any effect?”

“Ask me another,” said Borrin rather vulgarly. “I only tell you the story as it was told to me, and I am not responsible for its many mistakes.” He hesitated, then went on rapidly. “Mark Bally is the master of the Abbey; yet he is not, according to common report, the owner.”

Minister dropped his pipe, and stared. “That’s Greek to me.”

“And Greek to many other people,” said Borrin grimly. “I mean that the black cell of Brother Thomas is supposed to still exist, and that to the something dwelling therein the Abbey belongs.”

“What do you mean with your something?” asked Minister, still staring.

“How do I know? How does anyone know?” rejoined the doctor with a shrug. “It may be that Brother Thomas never died, and is holding on to the Abbey which belonged to his Order while letting the visible head of the Bally family make use of the dwelling and property. Or, perhaps, there is something not quite human in this hidden cell. I can’t say anything definite, and, for that reason, I think—as I told you—that all the business is rubbish.”

“There’s no smoke without fire,” murmured Minister, who had resumed his pipe. “What does Mark Bally say?”

“He simply laughs and says that people talk nonsense.”

“Humph! Is the young man merry or sad?”

“Well,” said Borrin with some hesitation, “he is usually sadder than he should be for a young man of his age and looks and circumstances.”

“Then, depend upon it, there is something in the tradition of the black cell and its supposed occupant,” said Minister excitedly, and started to his feet. “See here, I intend to remain in Hepworth village until I learn the truth.”

“You never will, Theo, believe me.”

“Oh, yes; I have already hit upon an idea of how to do so.”

Borrin looked up in astonishment. “What do you mean?”

“That Inca root which can separate soul from body. Why not prepare the juice and let me inject it into your body? Then you can go to the Abbey and see behind the scenes, so to speak.”

“I am astonished at a scientific man such as you are, Theo, talking such stuff and nonsense,” cried Borrin crossly. “Science has not yet proved that the soul exists, and—”

“How can you prove the super-physical by means of the physical alone?” interrupted Minister, walking to and fro greatly agitated and waving his big pipe. “Myself, I believe that the soul does exist, and can be separated. How about that Indian near Cuzco who went away and came back with a full account of your parents and their house?”

“Telepathy. He read my mind,” said Borrin curtly.

“I don’t agree with you. However, as there is nothing in your mind or in mine regarding this black cell, and its occupant, why not try the experiment ourselves? Then we will have a conclusive proof.”

“No, no, no!” said Borrin obstinately and uneasily; “it’s too dangerous!”

“Rubbish. It would have been dangerous had we not the antidote, for then you could not have been restored to your usual strength. But now all you have to do is to prepare the juice and have it injected. I shall prepare the decoction of the leaves and can give you a dose when necessary.”

“Suppose your dose doesn’t act?” inquired the doctor shivering. “Why then I should remain paralysed, unable to speak, or see, or feel—a kind of life in death and death in life, Theo. Besides, you might inject too much of the root juice; remember, we do not know how much will paralyse or how much will kill. I tell you it’s too dangerous, man. I have no wish to die, or to be paralysed.”

“Duffer!” said Minister ungraciously. “Let me have the injection.”

“That would be just as bad. You might die, and I should be hanged for murder; and, on the other hand, you might be paralysed, and I should never forgive myself for injecting the confounded juice into you.”

“Man alive, isn’t the antidote—?”

“It might not act.”

“It does act. I have seen it act myself,” insisted Minister. “The Indian at Chimborazo who showed me the plant allowed me to inject the paralysing poison and—”

“I thought you had none of the root,” interrupted Borrin quickly.

“Nor have I. The Indians would not give me any roots. But this man had some of the juice already prepared. I have the leaves and you have the root, so if we can only work together—”

“I am not prepared to do so,” said the little doctor testily. “In the first place it is too dangerous; in the second I don’t wish to pry into the secrets of my neighbours and—”

Minister interrupted again. “There’s no harm; you have no curiosity.”

“You are quite right, Theo; I have not.”

“Well, then, I have, and I am determined to attempt the test, if only to find out if the soul can go away and discover things.”

“I thought you were already satisfied on that point,” observed Borrin dryly.

“Well, I am, and I am not,” replied Minister in a contradictory manner. “Certainly, as you observed, since you knew all about your parents and their house, that Indian might have read your mind; it might be, as you say, a case of telepathy. But, in this case, seeing that neither one of us knows the secret of the Bally family, we can make certain of learning the truth about the separation of soul and body.”

“Who is to prove the truth when we find it out—if we do?”

“Oh, Mark Bally will confess when put to the question.”

“I doubt that. Bally is a strong man. Moreover, there isn’t any secret. You can see from the contradiction of the story that there isn’t.”

Minister nodded acquiescence. “It is pretty muddled, I confess, and for that reason I want to arrive at some plain conclusion. Well, Josiah, if you have an objection yourself to prove the truth about the use of the root in the way the Indians use it in their sacred ceremonies, why not give the root to me and let me take the risk?”

Borrin shook his head firmly. “No, I won’t. It’s playing with fire, Theo. I may as well tell you that I had an idea of preparing the juice and submitting it to the Government as a more painless way of getting rid of criminals. Hanging is painful, I am sure; and a dose of this juice would send some unhappy man out of the world in an easier way.”

“Oh, so you have prepared the juice?”

“I did not say that. I said I had an idea of preparing—”

“Josiah, your face is too tell-tale for you to keep a secret. You have already boiled and bruised the roots for your philanthropic scheme to give criminals a painless death. Confess now.”

“Well, I do confess. I have a bottle of the juice.”

“Show it to me.”

“You will want to take it away,” said Borrin obstinately, “and I don’t want you to risk your own life or anyone else’s by using it.”

“I swear to you, Josiah, that I shall never use it without your consent. But I should like to see if the juice you have prepared is of the same colour and smell as that we saw used by the Indians in the Andes. Come, now?”

“I’ll show you the preparation some day, but not now.”

“You obstinate pig,” fumed the doctor, who knew well enough that the meek little man could be firm when necessary, “if I didn’t love you so much I should shake you until you gave up what I want.”

Borrin laughed and patted the big man on the shoulder. “Your bark is worse than your bite, Theo. However, we have talked enough about these things. Come out and look at the grounds.”

“I’ll bide my time,” said Minister grimly; “but get that juice or those roots I will some day. You had a good supply.”

“I had and I have; but I intend to keep what I have to myself. Come out this way, Theo, and don’t look sulky.”

Minister burst into a genial laugh, and smote his friend so hard that Borrin shot through the bow-window like a rocket and out on to the lawn. The central window opened like a door on to the terrace, and thus afforded a short cut to the grounds to the occupant of the library. “A very good idea indeed,” said Minister, turning round to look at the ingenious device. “I never saw a bow-window built in that way before, Josiah.”

“It’s my own notion,” said the little doctor placidly. “With women in the house it was rather a nuisance having to go through the front door every time, as they will talk and disturb one’s train of thought.”

“Even Ida? I thought she was more sensible.”

“She is but a woman with a feminine tongue for all that. Lavinia also has not grown so silent as you think. I am fond of them both, but, being a student, I feel at times that they disturb me. A student should never marry.”

“Well, you haven’t married,” said Minister, beginning to puff again at his big china pipe and lumbering over the lawn.

Borrin laughed. “I might as well be married, with Lavinia and Ida in the house, Theo. Not but what they are angels of goodness.”

“Recording angels, who always keep a watch on every action. Humph! It is the deuce and all to marry, though when I settle down I may be tempted to make Lavinia Mrs Minister. She’s a fine woman still, and really good.”

“Perhaps she won’t have you.”

“Oh, yes; she will. Lavinia and I always got on well in the old days. But I shan’t ask her until I am quite settled down in twenty years from now. If she dies in the meantime I shall remain a bachelor. Humph! If female chatter bothers you, Josiah, why not marry Ida to one of the twins?”

“I am quite ready she should marry one,” rejoined the doctor briskly; “not that I wish to get rid of the dear girl, as you mustn’t take my talk too seriously, Theo. But I hope she’ll chose Edwin rather than Edgar.”

“What about Mr Mark Bally? Isn’t he a Richmond in the field also?”

“No, no! that’s only village gossip. He admires Jane Gurth.”

“Humph! Mrs Heasy said something about that also. Well, I like that girl; she’s what I call good wearing material for a helpmate—not likely to lose her temper or run off with someone else you know.”

Borrin nodded. “She’s an excellent girl, not beautiful, but serious and motherly. What the twins would do without her I don’t know. The parents are dead, and Jane looks after both.”

“Which one does she love most?”

“Edwin, I think.”

“Humph! And you prefer him also. Isn’t Edgar a good chap?”

“Oh, yes,” assented Borrin carelessly; “but I don’t think he is so good or so reliable as his brother. The twins are alike so far as outward looks go, but their natures are different.”

“I saw that myself,” mused Minister, while the two walked along the winding paths, “and, curiously enough, from the glimpse I saw of them, I also prefer your favourite, Edwin. Edgar looks sulky.”

“He has a temper, and also is more anxious to make money than Edwin.”

“It isn’t wrong to wish to make money,” objected the traveller.

“No—not in moderation; but Edgar is greedy and rather unscrupulous. I do not want Ida to marry him, and I don’t think she will. Edwin appeals to her more. He cares for Ida, and not for her money, while Edgar—” Borrin shrugged his neat shoulders.

“Humph! So Ida has money.”

“Not yet. But when I die she will have two hundred thousand pounds.”

“The deuce!” said Minister, greatly surprised, “I didn’t know you were so rich as all that, Josiah.”

“Well, you see, I speculated with my share of the Inca treasure, and was very successful. Old Gurth, who is dead, and who was a stockbroker, helped me a lot with his advice, and the cash is safely invested. It brings in quite a large income, which will be Ida’s when I die. Strange isn’t it, Theo, that old Gurth, who helped me to make money should have died poor himself.”

“Oh, did he? Then the twins and their sister are not rich?”

“Not at all. But Edwin as a barrister and Edgar as a solicitor have their professions, and do fairly well. And, of course, if Jane marries Mark Bally it will be a good match for her—if she ever does marry him, that is.”

“Why shouldn’t she?”

Borrin shook his head. “Mark hangs back for some reason, although he is in love with her, according to Lavinia and Ida.”

“Women are proverbially sharp in love affairs,” said Minister decidedly. “I dare say it is this secret which prevents Bally from speaking.”

“Oh, rubbish! Again, and for the hundredth time, I say there is no secret.”

“There is, there is; and I intend to find it out,” said Minister determinedly.