CHAPTER III

AN UNSATISFACTORY EXPLANATION

"Mr. Berwin!" cried Lucian, recognising the man. "Is it you?"

"Who else should it be?" replied Berwin, bending forward to see who had

jostled him. "Who else should it be, Mr. Denzil?"

"But I thought--I thought," said the barrister, unable to conceal his

surprise, "that is, I fancied you were indoors."

"Your fancy was wrong, you see. I am not indoors."

"Then who is in your house?"

Berwin shrugged his shoulders. "No one, so far as I know."

"You are mistaken, sir. There was a light in your room, and I saw the

shadows of a man and a woman struggling together thrown on the blind."

"People in my house!" said Berwin, laying a shaking hand on the arm of

Lucian. "Impossible!"

"I tell you it is so!"

"Come, then, and we will look for them," said Berwin in a tremulous

voice.

"But they have gone by this time!"

"Gone!"

"Yes," said Denzil rapidly. "I rang the bell, as I fancied there was

some fatal quarrel going on within. At once the light was put out, and

as I could attract no one to the door, I suppose the man and woman must

have fled."

For a moment or so Berwin said nothing, but his grip on Lucian's arm

relaxed, and he moved forward a few steps. "You must be mistaken, Mr.

Denzil," said he in altered tones, "there can be no person in my house.

I locked the door before I went out, and I have been absent at least two

hours."

"Then I must be mad, or dreaming!" retorted Lucian, with heat.

"We can soon prove if you are either of the two, sir. Come with me and

examine the house for yourself."

"Pardon me," said Denzil, drawing back, "it is none of my business. But

I warn you, Mr. Berwin, that others are more curious than I am. Several

times people have been known to be in your house while you were absent,

and your mode of life, secretive and strange, does not commend itself to

the householders in this neighbourhood. If you persist in giving rise to

gossip and scandal, some busybody may bring the police on the scene."

"The police!" echoed the old man, now greatly alarmed, as would appear

from his shaking voice. "No! no! That will never do! My house is my

castle! The police dare not break into it! I am a peaceful and very

unfortunate gentleman, who wishes to live quietly. All this talk of

people being in my house is nonsense!"

"Yet you seemed afraid when I told you of the shadows," said Lucian

pointedly.

"Afraid! I am afraid of nothing!"

"Not even of those who are after you?" hinted Denzil, recalling the

conversation of the previous occasion.

Berwin gave a kind of eldritch shriek and stepped back a pace, as though

to place himself on his guard. "What--what do you know about such--such

things?" he panted.

"Only so much as you hinted at when I last saw you."

"Yes, yes! I was not myself on that night. The wine was in and the wit

was out."

"The truth also, it would seem," said Lucian drily, "judging by your

agitation then and now."

"I am an unfortunate gentleman," whimpered Berwin tremulously.

"If you will excuse me, sir, I shall leave you," said Lucian

ceremoniously. "It seems to be my fate to hold midnight conversations

with you in the cold, but I think this one had better be cut short."

"One moment," Mr. Berwin exclaimed. "You have been good enough to place

me on my guard as to the talk my quiet course of life is causing. Pray

add to your kindness by coming with me to my house and exploring it from

attic to basement. You will then see that there are no grounds for

scandal, and that the shadows you fancy you saw on the blind are not

those of real people."

"They can't be those of ghosts, at all events," replied Lucian, "as I

never heard, to my knowledge, that spirits could cast shadows."

"Well, come and see for yourself that the house is empty."

Warmly as this invitation was given, Lucian had some scruples about

accepting it. To explore an almost unfurnished mansion with a complete

stranger--and one with an ill reputation--at the midnight hour, is not

an enterprise to be coveted by any man, however bold he may be. Still,

Lucian had ample courage, and more curiosity, for the adventure, as the

chance of it stirred up that desire for romance which belongs peculiarly

to youth. Also he was anxious to satisfy himself concerning the blind

shadows, and curious to learn why Berwin inhabited so dismal and

mysterious a mansion. Add to these reasons a keen pleasure in profiting

by the occurrence of the unexpected, and you will guess that Denzil

ended by accepting the strange invitation of Berwin.

Being now fully committed to the adventure, he went forward with cool

courage and an observant eye, to spy out, if possible, the secret upon

which hinged these mysteries.

As on the former occasion, Berwin inducted his guest into the

sitting-room, and here, as previously, a dainty supper was spread.

Berwin turned up the lamp light and waved his hand round the

luxuriously furnished room, pointing particularly to the space between

table and window.

"The figures whose shadows you saw," said he, "must have struggled

together in this space, so as to be between the lamp and the blind for

the performance of their pantomime. But I would have you observe, Mr.

Denzil, that there is no disturbance of the furniture to show that such

a struggle as you describe took place; also that the curtains are drawn

across the window, and no light could have been thrown on the blind."

"The curtains were, no doubt, drawn after I rang the bell," said Lucian,

glancing towards the heavy folds of crimson velvet which veiled the

window.

"The curtains," retorted Berwin, stripping off his coat, "were drawn by

me before I went out."

Lucian said nothing, but shook his head doubtfully. Evidently Berwin was

trying, for his own ends, to talk him into a belief that his eyes had

deceived him; but Denzil was too clear-headed a young man to be so

gulled. Berwin's explanations and excuses only confirmed the idea that

there was something in the man's life which cut him off from humanity,

and which would not bear the light of day. Hitherto, Lucian had heard

rather than seen Berwin; but now, in the clear light of the lamp, he had

an excellent opportunity of observing both the man and his quarters.

Berwin was of medium height, and lean, with a clean-shaven face, hollow

cheeks, and black, sunken eyes. His hair was grey and thin, his looks

wild and wandering, and the hectic colouring of his face and narrow

chest showed that he was far gone in consumption. Even as Lucian looked

at him he was shaken by a hollow cough, and when he withdrew his

handkerchief from his lips the white linen was spotted with blood.

He was in evening dress, and looked eminently refined, although worn and

haggard in appearance. Denzil noted two peculiar marks about him; the

first, a serpentine cicatrice extending on the right cheek from lip

almost to ear; the second, the loss of the little finger of the left

hand, which was cut off at the first joint. As he examined the man a

second and more violent fit of coughing shook him.

"You seem to be very ill," said Lucian, pitying the feebleness of the

poor creature.

"Dying of consumption--one lung gone!" gasped Berwin. "It will soon be

over--the sooner the better."

"With your health, Mr. Berwin, it is sheer madness to dwell in this

rigorous English climate."

"No doubt," replied the man, pouring himself out a tumbler of claret,

"but I can't leave England--I can't leave this house, even; but on the

whole," he added, with a satisfied glance around, "I am not badly

lodged."

Lucian agreed with this speech. The room was furnished in the most

luxurious manner. The prevailing hue was a deep, warm red--carpet,

walls, hangings, and furniture were all of this cheerful tint. The

chairs were deep, and softly cushioned; on the walls were several oil

paintings by celebrated modern artists; there were dwarf bookcases

filled with well-chosen books, and on a small bamboo table near the fire

lay magazines and papers.

The mantelpiece, reaching nearly to the ceiling, was of oak, framing

mirrors of bevelled glass; and on the numerous shelves, cups, saucers,

and vases of old and valuable china were placed. There was also a gilt

clock, a handsome sideboard, and a neat smoking-table, on which stood a

cut-glass spirit-stand and a box of cigars. The whole apartment was

furnished with taste and refinement, and Lucian saw that the man who

owned such luxurious quarters must be possessed of money, as well as the

capability of using it in the most civilised way.

"You have certainly all that the heart of man can desire in the way of

material comforts," said he, looking at the supper table, which, with

its silver and crystal and spotless covering, glittered like a jewel

under the brilliant lamplight. "My only wonder is that you should

furnish one room so finely and leave the others bare."

"My bedroom and bathroom are yonder," replied Berwin, pointing towards

large folding doors draped with velvet curtains, and placed opposite to

the window. "They are as well furnished as this. But how do you know the

rest of this house is bare?"

"I can hardly help knowing it, Mr. Berwin. Your contrast of poverty and

riches is an open secret in this neighbourhood."

"No one has been in my house save yourself, Mr. Denzil."

"Oh, I have said nothing. You turned me out so quickly the other night

that I had no time for observation. Besides, I am not in the habit of

remarking on matters which do not concern me."

"I beg your pardon," said Berwin weakly. "I had no intention of

offending you. I suppose Mrs. Kebby has been talking?"

"I should think it probable."

"The skirling Jezebel!" cried Berwin. "I'll pack her off right away!"

"Are you a Scotchman?" asked Denzil suddenly.

"Why do you ask?" demanded Berwin, without replying.

"You used an essentially Scotch word--'skirling.'"

"And I used an essentially American phrase--'right away,'" retorted the

man. "I may be a Scot, I may be a Yankee, but I would remind you that my

nationality is my own secret."

"I have no wish to pry into your secrets," said Denzil, rising from the

chair in which he had seated himself, "and in my turn I would remind you

that I am here at your invitation."

"Don't take offense at a hasty word," said Berwin nervously. "I am glad

of your company, although I seem rather brusque. You must go over the

house with me."

"I see no necessity to do so."

"It will set your mind at rest regarding the shadows on the blind."

"I can trust my eyes," said Lucian, drily, "and I am certain that before

I met you a man and a woman were in this room."

"Well," said Berwin, lighting a small lamp, "come with me and I'll prove

that you are mistaken."