The Mystery of Hall-in-the-Wood

Front matter

"how did it happen?" ASKED PHIL. Frontispiece. (Seepage 99.) THE MYSTERY OF HALL-IN-THE-WOOD. BY ROSA MULHOLLAND, AUTHOR OF " THE WICKED WOODS OF TOBEREVIL," ETC. WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY MAYNAHV BRUWN. London: THE SUNDAY SCHOOL UNION, 55 & 56, OLD BAILEY, B.C. Book Saloon, 57 & 59, Ludgate Hill, E.C.

CHAPTER IMCI

I. Hall-in-the-Wood . . . . . . . , 9 II. Strange Travelled Boys .. ,, 17 III A Gruff Greeting .. .. .. ..31 IV. Gruesome Revelations . . . . . . 50 V. Mistress Felicia . . . . . . 03 VI. Sir. Galahad . . . . . . . . 87 VII. The Mysterious Window . . . . . . 102 VIII. Robin's First Discovery .. .. 110 IX. Robin on the Aleut .. .. .. 121 X. A First Exploration .. .. .. 138 XI. More Discoveries . . . . . . . . 148 XII. Robin and the Skull .. .. .. 1G0 XIII. The Mysterious Face .. .. ..171 XIV. Binda .. .. .. .. .. 187 XV. The Escape . . . . . . . . 200 XVI. FRESn Revelations .. .. .. 210 XVII. A New Arrival . . . . . . . . 225 XVIII. The Finding of Sir Galahad .. .. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE " How did it happen ? " asked Phil . . Frontispiece Dot settles down to Work .. .. .. ..16 The Sketch .. .. .. .. .. 21 The Sketcher . . . . . . . . . . 25 " This is the Secret or Hall-in-the-Wood " . .

Chapter I. Hall-in-the-wood

Ets maiBEtts arc fair, its masters are goati." " lIKj/1 f¥] I)0X'T kuow about that>" said B^Hl|fr7r/ Dot, getting down from the high old bench on which she [ na(l perched herself, the better to read the carved inscription run- ||l||&ff ■ ning across the end wall of the | IMftW" room. " Martha is not fair, and I am not sure whether grand-uncle is good or not. Perhaps he is good, but he is queer. I should say— ' Hall-in-the-Wood, Ball-in-the-Wood, Its maidens are cross, its masters are qneer.' But that wouldn't rhyme. Oh dear ! oh, oh ! Dot had caught sight of something stirring in a ghostly strip of old blotched and bleared looking glass which was blinking in a far corner, and she took the image to be uncanny. "Why, it's only myself!'' she cried, as the setting sun* shot a brighter, redder ray into the glass, and showed her her own frightened face, crop of fair curls, and little slender form in its frock of whitey-brown smocking.

" I wish I could keep from corning up into this horrid part of the house," she went on in an aggrieved whisper, "but I simply can't. I wish Lovey was old enough to talk about it ; but she will keep only a baby, and so there's nobody. Oh yes, Martha, I'm coming. Don't be angry, Martha. I'm coming — I'm coming ! " And away went Dot, flying down the gaunt wide staircase as fearfully as if wolves were after her heels. The house-place of Hall-in-the-Wood was the fine old hall of the great house, when it had been HALL-IN-THE-WOOD. a great house, the home of a great family who had many years ago migrated to a newer and more splendid mansion, leaving the ancient dwelling to be occupied by the owner of the farm surround ing it. The hall was half timbered, with a fireplace the recess of which was wide enough to take in a whole family.

It was lighted on either side by a con tinuous line of narrow diamond panes ; and a greenish tinge in some of them, where a very old and inferior glass remained, made a streak of colour blending with the red light from the setting sun, which had followed Dot in her downward flight, and was waiting for her behind the supper table. On the raised dais at one end of the hall the table was spread, and over it an inscription ran along the wainscoting — " Sleep not till tljou fjast consibercS $ofo tfjou Jjast spent tljr oao past. K tfjou fjast iucll .ans, tfjank ©06. L:f ©tfjerfoags, repent ur." These words above her head, taken with Martha's power, always seemed like a threat to Dot, who believed herself to be hopelessly wicked and troublesome in proportion as she desired to be commendable and good.

It was a cold May evening, and an enormous oak balk was burning on the hearth, sending soft flames up the wide chimney, and dropping white ashes like snowflakes. An old man in a huge oaken chair in the ingle emptied his pipe, put it on a ledge of the mantel carving, and came in answer to Martha's imperious summons, taking his place at the head of the supper-table. Opposite sat Martha, in a huge apron and mob cap, dis secting a goose, and at either side, facing each other, were Dot and her little sister Lovey, who would keep on being a baby. " They won't be here till morning now," said Martha, addressing her master. "Don't stare at me, Dot, you minx. Eat your supper." Dot swallowed a mouthful in great haste, and said to herself, " They ! who are they ? " But she dared not lift her voice to ask any questions.

Her next frightened glance was at the old man at the head of the table, who appeared to be taking no notice of any one, and not so much HALL-IN-THE- WOOD. 13 wrapt in thought as absorbed in vacancy. He was small, and bent more with abjection, as it might seem, than with age, and occasionally he laid down his knife and fork and muttered a few words to himself. An observant person would quickly find in her master's imbecility a key to Martha's domineering imperiousness. "That child is falling asleep," said Martha to Dot. " Take her to bed before she tumbles on the floor. And don't come back in a hurry, for I have something to say to your uncle." Lovey climbed down from her chair and ran to the old man, who wakened up at the touch of her little hand, and took her affectionately in his arms. Dot stood at a distance, and waited for her charge.

Not being encouraged, she did not approach, feeling herself too old to make free uninvited. As soon as Lovey was dismissed, or rather dropped out of the old man's limp arms, Dot took her up and staggered under the burden, soft and heavy as a bag of wool, to the door and across the outer passages, and went, half dragging, half carrying the sleepy child, up the lonesome stair. With many a start and sudden peering glance over her shoulder to right and left, she made her way steadily upward through the gathering twilight, and arrived at her destination with a rush, shut ting the door of her room with a bang which would certainly earn her a rebuke if Martha should happen to hear it. Having said Lovey 's prayers for her, with here and there a dreamy word from the child coming in like an echo, she tucked the little one in bed and sat down beside her to wait, not daring to return below till such time as she might take it for granted that Martha's conversation with her master must have come to an end.

The room belonging to the two little sisters was not so wild as the rest of the house, inas much as it was small and three-cornered, and that the latticed window was framed in a clamber ing rose-bush. Over the chimney-piece, which had squeezed itself oddly into one of the three corners, was a curious carved mediæval figure, but "no inscription, thank goodness," thought Dot, to whom these menacing writings on the wall were a part of the uncanny mysteriousness of the place in which Providence had ordered her orphanhood. She counted Lovey's little fat fingers lying on HALL-IN-THE-WOOD. the counterpane, kissed her rosy unconscious cheeks two or three times ; opened the lattice, and took a look to see if any of the buds on the rose bush were showing a tinge of red or gold under the folds of lightly over-lapped green that held the summer still in sheath ; closed it again, lest Lovey should catch cold ; and sat down once more to wait and ponder upon the question which had proposed itself to her quick young brains at the supper-table — Who were the " they " who had been 'expected that evening, and might not now be looked for till to-morrow morning '?

" They cannot be ghosts this time," she argued, " for ghosts don't give warning of when they may be expected. Nobody knows when they will come, or how they will come. Of course, I can only keep guessing until somebody arrives." When she thought she had waited long enough, she crept downstairs, slipped into the hall, and sat down like a little mouse in her corner of the ingle. The private conversation was evidently over, for the old man was sunk in his oaken chair, enveloped in clouds of smoke, and Martha was busy with some housekeeping matters in the depths of a cavernous press at a distance from the house-place. Dot tugged an enormous work-basket out of a corner, and sat meekly down before it. Needles and wool, stockings old and new, with holes and without holes, were the principal contents of this mending basket.

It was Dot's particular business to mend her grand-uncle's stockings, and with a stolen glance at Martha's back and another at her grand-uncle's stolid face, the little girl dived for a pan of well-broken stockings and threaded her needle, stifling a whole heartful of sighs as she did so.

Chapter II Strange Traveller Boys

awoke the next morning 'til sr*M r_jf w^b a *distinct impression m^l ~ something wonderful V v*a - ' nad happened, or was about <-^y\ c'j>/f ' y' t° happen. As she watched /$■ '' 'v^Kl the sun making lozenges of yellow ' '''*'''-' '"/w on brown walls opposite /'mf'I.^sSfi the lattice, she kept asking herself what that wonderful something could be. Oh yes, she remembered. They were coming. And who in the wide world were they ' Hall-in-the-Wood was so very isolated and so seldom visited that it was natural Dot should feel B THE MYSTERY OP HALL-IN-THE-WOOD. excited over the prospect of an arrival of any description. She and Lovey were soon equipped for a walk, and outside of the house door, which had already been opened by Martha. Hall-in-the-Wood was situated in a lonely part of a southern district of England, close to a bold and bare sea-coast, but so placed that the sea was not visible from any of its windows.

The approach from the inland was through a bit of woody country, and down a steep hill, at the foot of which an avenue of ancient trees was found leading to the gates. On one side was a wide stream of water ; on the other, traces of a moat in a sunk fosse, clothed with short thick trees and soft green plumage of ferns and bracken. A steep wall of green shadow backed the building, the ages-old embankment of forest trees surviving the decay or spoliation of the woods which had given their name to the mansion. Red rays from the newly risen sun stabbed their way through the avenue trees and struck the glass in the mullioned windows, here and there finding a jewel of colour left to catch fire amidst the later-glazed panes, filled in with colder, poorer glass. A perpetual cawing of rooks went on in the air, and a few of these black-winged creatures of sinister note were always circling about the stack of chimneys — three square shafts, with a bold moulding at top — which rose above the entrance.

The girls ran along the avenue, delighting in the fresh, keen air of the May morning ; Dot, full of excitement and vague expectation, scanning the steep hill ahead of her, and Lovey discoursing brokenly of her desire to put salt on the pigeons' tails. "Oh yes, Lovey dear, we'll ask Martha for some salt ; but come on fast." "There's such a lovely blue one just flewd paBt!" said Lovey; "and there's salt in my pottet." " I'm sure it's spilled, Lovey dear ; I'm sure it is — there ! " And Dot turned out the pocket. "It's all run out through that little hole in the corner. Now, Lovey dear," kissing her, "don't cry ; and run fast like a darling, for I do so want to see them coming." "Who's them?" asked Lovey, trotting as fast as her little fat legs would go. " I don't know, dear, who they are." " And why does you want to see them ? ' " Oh, I want to see somebody, you know, just for once ; somebody besides grand-uncle and Martha."

"Perhaps they won't come," remonstrated Lovey. "Perhaps they won't," echoed Dot, with sudden dejection. "Nobody ever does come; but I want to see." They had now got up to the top of the hill, and, turning about to take a good look everywhere, faced the old Hall lying in its wood. Beyond it lay the wide sea, a plain of burnished light, all its fretwork of little waves crisp with gold. Seen from here the house was on the very verge of the sea, the gaunt cliffs opening their jaws even out of the trees, the winding path tbat led to them through the wood being lost in the distance. The rooks made a little black cloud above the chimneys, the white gulls dipped in a willowy trail away beyond, over against the glory of tho cloudlaud that backed the whole luminous picture. As the children wheeled round again they were half blinded with the brightness, and plodded on, hardly able to see the far-stretching downs that opened on either side of the narrow road, with its scanty skirting of trees, which scarcely bore traces of wheels, so little was it frequented.

Suddenly Dot uttered a cry of delight " Oh, Lovey, they are coming ! " she exclaimed vehemently. " I see them, I see them ! — and they are boys ! " "What kind of boys?" asked Lovey. "Cow boys?" " No, I don't think so," said Dot. " They are strange traveller kind of boys, Dick Whittington boys. Boys with sticks on their shoulders, and red cotton bundles tied on to the end of them." "Have they a cat?" asked Lovey, walking on tiptoe to see better into the distance. "Dick Whittington boy had a cat." "Oh, you little goose, you can't have every thing," cried Dot, straining her great blue eyes towards the new-comers. " That was long ago, you know, Lovey. Boys don't walk about the country with a cat nowadays. I was sure it would be some very cross grown-up person, and, after all, it is boys ! Oh, I hope we shall be allowed to speak to them and play with them.

We never have seen any boys since we came here. Now have we, Lovey ? " " Cowboys ! " said Lovey again. " Oh, you little goosey ! Cowboys are nobody to speak to." "Cowboys is kind; them speaks to me," per sisted Lovey, sturdily, remembering moments when she had been lifted on the cow's back by horny hands, or allowed to look on at the milking. " Lovey likes cowboys." But Dot's wits were by this time completely gone forward into the future of " strange traveller boys," now drawing nearer and nearer to her out of the distance of grey wood and glistening morning sunshine, and she allowed Lovey to remain in possession of her particular creed. As the figures grew larger and were rapidly approaching, Dot's speed relaxed, and at last she stopped short under HE SKETCH a rugged arch of elm trees that just broke the sun light and cast a wreath of shadow on the road where she stood.

The boys came trudging merrily on, and halted face to face with the girls. They were two fine well-built lads of about fourteen and fifteen years, the skktciier. the elder much taller and stronger-looking than the younger. Each carried a bundle, as Dot had described, and the smaller had a flat little book under his arm besides. " Would you mind "standing where you are until he puts you in ?" called the taller boy when within a few yards of the girls. " In where ? " faltered Dot, in an excited treble voice, which rose like a frightened bird into the air and wavered towards the strangers. " Into his sketch. Phil has made a sketch, and he wants some figures. Girls will do. Now then, Phil, be quick about it, and I'll try to keep them steady till you have done." Phil went to work on the instant, and Dot stood still, submissively, quite unconscious of the picturesque figure she made, while Lovey put her finger in her mouth, abashed and uncertain whether to laugh or to cry.

" Now, then, what children are you ?" asked the elder boy, who might be described as the leader of the two. "We are not children," said Dot; "at least not both of us. Lovey is a child, and I am a girl. " Oh, perhaps you are a woman, madam ! I beg your pardon. I am not quite sure you are not a witch. This is a queer kind of country, and I shouldn't wonder at anything it may produce. What I want to know is, where do you come from, and are you able to tell me anything about Hall-in-the-Wood ? " " We've come from Hall-in-the-Wood," said Dot, " and it's down there. Is that where you are going ? " " That's where we are going, if they will let us in. They haven't sent to meet us. Looks as if they didn't want us. I don't suppose they sent you on to carry our luggage, did they ? " "No," said Dot; "but, if you are tired, I will carry that bundle for you."

The tall, strong boy laughed outright as he looked at Dot's slip of a figure and slight, out stretched hands. " Thank you," he said. " I do believe you would if I let you. However, I'm not at the point of death from fatigue yet. What do you know about Hall-in-the-Wood ? " " We live there." " Come, that's not bad. Do you hear this, Phil ? Fairy princesses discovered in the ogre's castle. Not quite locked up though, as they get out for a walk." " Who sold you it was an ogre's castle ?" "A little bird told me. The old man who lives there is a queer kind of a person, isn't he ? " " He is my grand-uncle," said Dot, sturdily. " Aa far as I can observe, that need not hinder him from being queer. His grand-niece is queer enough for anything. Denies that she is a child, being about ten years old." "I am thirteen," said Dot, in a tone of outraged dignity.

"Asks leave to carry young men's luggage for them." "You are not a young man," protested Dot. " If I am only ten, you are about twelve." " I am fifteen, madam." " Only two years older than I am. And what is that between a boy and a girl ? In reality I am older than you." "Do leave off squabbling ! " put in Phil, as he shut up his sketch-book. " No matter how old she is when she looks like a baby. I am the man to feel insulted, as I am only fourteen. But we needn't fight about it." " She began," said the taller boy. " Why did you call our house an ogre's castle ?" said Dot, on the verge of tears. "Because I had heard it was a very queer kind of a place." " So it is." "Then why did you contradict? What's the difference between a very queer kind of a place and an ogre's castle, my lady ? " " We haven't had our heads cut off.

We haven't been eaten up ; and Lovey and I have been living here a year." "Courage, Phil ! Put up your sword. The ogre is not a cannibal, at all events." "Oh!" exclaimed Dot, with a suddenly trem bling lip, " I am so disappointed in you. When I saw that you were boys I thought you would be friendly." "And are we not friendly?" said the tall boy. " Wait till you see. There now, little old grand mother, don't look so vexed. I'd almost give you my luggage to carry if I thought it would please you." Dot wiped away a silent tear and looked up gratefully. " If you only knew how lonely we have been, you would be kind," she said. " And if you were to be kind it would be so nice, now you have come to us. You have no idea at all how nice it would be." "Let us try. In the first place, now that we are swearing eternal friendship, what is your name ?

" "Dot." " Where were you born ? " "In India." " Where were you bred ? " "All over the world, I think, until father and mother died, and I was sent here with Lovey." "It's a parallel case!" said the tall boy, striking his stick on the ground. " Phil and I have been played ball with about the universe till we don't know how to stay quiet anywhere. Our father is not dead, however. He is only travelling in Africa." " Have you come from Africa ? " " Not direct ; in fact, scarcely at all. We have been to several schools, and in the hands of several guardians. Our last school kicked us out for playing pranks, and our last guardian died of a broken heart over our wickedness. We have been sent to the old gentleman who, it seems, is your grand-uncle, partly as a punishment, partly because he is the last of many provided for us by our father, and a good deal for the reason that nobody else will have us.

Now, are you still prepared to swear eternal friendship? " " Yes," said Dot readily. "You must have been lonely," said her new friend, regarding her admiringly, " not to be afraid of such a pair of rascals." " I'm not a bit afraid of you. You are a little rude ; but I don't think you mean any harm." "Oh, but you don't know me. There is a good deal of harm in me, I can tell you. I'm not going to begin with you, however, to-day. And while this truce lasts — for I feel we shall soon be at our squabbling again — please to tell me, Madam Dot, whether they are really expecting us at Hall in-the-Wood; and, if so, why they did not send properly for us and our luggage ? " " They are expecting you, for I heard them talking about it last night at supper-time. They said that they were coming. I couldn't think who they could be, for nobody has ever come since I've been here ; and I'm sure they would never dream of sending for your luggage."

"Pleasant and hospitable, isn't it? I say, Phil, what do you think of turning back at once, and seeking our fortunes in London, eh ? " "Oh, please don't." cried Dot, "They really, really do expect you, and I suppose they can't help being queer. After all, your luggage can be sent for later. It is only ten miles or so to where the coach stops." " Ten miles ! A goodish walk, I can tell you, before breakfast ; and who knows whether we are going to get any breakfast ? " "Oh yes," said Dot, "there is always lots of breakfast. Martha makes sausages splendid, although she is so cross ; and her coffee is ever so good ; and the cream is delicious, and the scones The big boy gave a long whistle, and threw up his cap in the air. "That does improve the situation, young woman ! " he cried exultiugly, catching his cap again and clapping it on his head.

" I was hungry before, but now I am perfectly ravenous. Let us make for the coffee and sausages, if to morrow we die. Pick up that knapsack, Phil, and let us march ! " In another minute the four youngsters were sweeping down the hill like a covey of pigeons, and before long they alighted on the inhospitable threshold of Hall-in-the-Wood. c

CHAPTER 111

A GRUFF GREETING ARTHA met them at the door The housekeeper at Hall-in-the-Wood had a square, aggressive face. behind which seemed to lurk some secret thing which she defied you to extract from her. The glance of her eye was keen and obser vant, and after it had flashed and fallen there remained a lowering shadow under her brows, a mixture of suspicion and hard determination. Her greeting to the lads was not a very encouraging one. She simply stared at them up and down, and said "Humph ! " in a tone which seemed to declare that she saw they had come. and it could not be helped, but that she was going to make as little fuss about them as possible. " We met them, you know, Martha, and they are dreadfully hungry," said Dot, conciliatingly. " Shouldn't wonder," growled Martha. " The like of them generally is ; " and then she shut the door, which was accustomed to be open, and, turning her back on the young people, proceeded into the house.

Robin, however, put himself in her way. "We want to have our luggage sent for," he said, " and to see our rooms ; and if you have got any sausages I hope you will fry them for our breakfast." " My word, but this is a young master ! " answered the woman. "You will have to come down a little smaller than that in your ways, my gentleman, if you are going to stay long in this part of the country. I'll show you where you are to sleep when it comes on night; and when anybody happens to be going to the town they can see about fetching your traps. As for sausages — well, it's not for you to order your breakfast. Whatever's on the table you may be helped to." " Now, look here, Martha ! " said Robin. "You are altogether wrong about two or three things this morning. There's nobody coming a-begging to you, as far as I know.

Phil and I have been ordered and paid for, and we're asking for nothing on credit at Hall-in-the-Wood. My father will pay for our sausages and our messengers, and maybe for a fine silk dress for anybody who is decently good to us." Martha put her arms a-kimbo and regarded him investigatingly, as if to discover how much of these unexpected statements she might venture to believe. " I'm not in want of clothes," she said — but her tone was mollified — " and I don't know any thing about your father's money." "Real English money," said Robin, "though he lives in Africa. No black money, I can tell you, but honest gold ; no blackmail, Mrs. Martha. Ha, ha ! I see you can take a joke ! " "Blackmail!" shrieked Martha, turning pale, or rather sooty grey colour. " Who talks about blackmail, you young jackanapes, in a respectable mansion like Hall-in-the-Wood?

I have a mind to call out Mr. Culverdale to you, only the poor old gentleman is so delicate at present that he isn't fit to talk to you. Blackmail, indeed, you young highwayman ! " she went on, her sudden wrath as suddenly subsiding, as if by a habit of caution, and she went muttering down the pas sages, followed by the young people, led by Robin, giving vent to his feelings in explosions of laughter. "What is blackmail?" asked Dot of Robin in a whisper. " Oh, stolen money, ill-gotten goods," said Robin. " I'll wager that this Martha knows something of it. Helps herself to old Mr. Culver dale's shirts and stockings, I'll be bound. Halloa ! What a jolly old house-place ! It's not half a bad house to live in, this Hall-in-the-Wood." " They've come, sir ! " shrieked Martha into her master's ear ; and the quiet old man got up out of his chair by the fire and held out his hand to the boys.

" I don't remember rightly who you are," he said, "but they say I knew your father, and I'm sure it's all right. You are to live here as long as you like, you know. Sit down to breakfast." In spite of Martha's frowns, the table was a comfortable sight, and justified Dot's encouraging remark that there was always lots of breakfast at Hall-in-the-Wood. Now, my young readers must remember that, although this is a story not of to-day but of the middle of last century, the boys and girls of former times were quite like the boys and girls of these, and that the cross women were much the same as our own cross women. Mrs. Martha Grimes was one of those persons whose squared elbows and set mouth are obstinate facts, like locked gates and prison bars, and whose ways and humours are able to fill even a very large house with a portentous presence impossible to be ignored or got rid of.