Clement Carlile's Dream: a novel

Front matter

H 1Rov>cl BY BELTON OTTERBURN AUTHOR OF 'unrelated twins,* 'nurse adelaide,' etc. Ikrniion DIGBY, LONG & CO., PUBLISHERS 1 8 Bouverie Street, Fleet Street, E.C. CONTENTS CHAP. PAGE i. hutton manor .... 1 ii. a ghost story ... 12 iii. the secret panel . . .21 iv. a skeleton without a skull . . 32 v. a murder . . . .41 vi. ' have i been asleep ? ' . . . 48 vii. 'only a dream!'. . . - 57 viii. a tremendous mystery . . .71 ix. the inquest . . . .78 x. a friendly compact . . .86 xi. scotland . . 94 xii. the ball at the lynne lintons' . io3 xiii. 'mine, all mine, mine at last ! ' . i io XIV. MISSING ! . . . . .Il8 XV. A SOLID STONE WALL . . .124 XVI. 'WHAT ABOUT LUNCH?' . . 1 33 XVII. THE MYSTERIOUS CHAPEL . . 1 42 XVIII. A GHASTLY DISCOVERY . . 1 49 XIX. LUCY'S PROPOSAL . . . 157 XX. A FUNERAL SERVICE . . 1 64 XXI.

TREASURE TROVE . . . 1 72 XXII. ' DO, JACK, PLEASE ; I DO SO WANT A TIARA ! ' l8l vi CONTENTS CHAP. fAGE XXIII. ' LET ME HAVE IT, AND I'LL WING HIM AS SURE AS FATES ! ' . . I PO XXIV. THE BROKEN ALTAR . . . I98 XXV. MR MABIN ... 2°9 XXVI. THE MEETING OF THE WATERS . . 2 1 7 XXVII. A NEW IDEA .... 225 XXVIII. FURTHER COMPLICATIONS . . - 234 XXIX. ' HAIL DEATH ! ' . . . 243 XXX. THE EMPTY ROOM . . . .254 XXXI. ' BUT ARE EITHER OF YOUR TWO MEN- GOOD AT CLIMBING?' . . 264 XXXII. DEAD BEYOND THE POWER OF RECALL . 2J2 XXXIII. MR MABIN ON THE WARPATH . . 28 1 XXXIV. THE MISSING KNIFE . . 288 XXXV. CARLILE's STORY .... 295 XXXVI. THE STRONG ROOM .... 307 XXXVII. THE GREEN LEATHER DESPATCH BOX . CLEMENT CARLILE'S DREAM

Chapter I Hutton Manor

People knowing Hutton Bay claim it as one of the prettiest to be found anywhere around the coast of England — or Wales, for that matter. Certainly, for those in search of the wild and picturesque, it would be hard to find a place which more nearly comes up to the ideal, having, as it has, all adjuncts to fulfil the necessary requirements. Facing the west, the bay itself lies some what in the form of a horseshoe towards the open sea, without rock or breakwater to check the force of the waves, as they come rolling up on the wide open beach. Not a very large bay either, about a mile across at the widest part, and stretching back a good way inland, between the steep sides of the two lofty headlands which stand as sentinels guarding the centre channel, through which the waves usually are rushing in a strong swift flow, especially with the advancing tide.

Although marked on the map, as any one can see by consulting an atlas, Hutton Bay is but little known to the outside world, and even less frequented to judge by appearances. It is surrounded on all sides by high lands, whose cliffs down more or less precipitously towards the water's A CLEMENTCARLILE'S DREAM 2 edge, except on that innermost, where a beach of some half mile in extent lies on either side of a small old weatherbeaten pier used by the few fisher folk inhabiting the little hamlet of Tyne-Hutton. This hamlet or village — for is there not a miniature church ? — lies just at the entrance to the valley which stretches away from the sea, inland, until lost among its larger and more important neighbours of the interior. That the fishing industry carried on by the inhabitants of which the outward and visible sign consisted of some five or six crazy-looking fishing smacks, was, at the time of which we are speak ing, of diminutive size, is proved by the fact that the nearest railway station was distant more than seven miles, over about as bad and inconvenient a road as it is possible to imagine, or human ingenuity devise.

To expect a modern carriage to traverse it would be almost utter madness, for even if the framework should manage to withstand the rude shocks it would experience in tumbling over the deep ruts and large boulders plenti fully bestrewing its path, but few horses would be able to draw it, unless very light. It was hardly possible to ride, let alone drive along it, and yet, once a week, and sometimes twice, old Joe Matlock might have been seen urging his small donkey-cart, piled up with fish, towards the neighbouring town where the railway was to be found. Old Joe — a well-known character, and the patriarch of the village — was the one connecting link between it and the outside world, for he also acted the r<jle of postman on the few occasions when letters came into the place, which was not often, except to the Vicarage, where the curate in charge lived, an old bachelor, and one of whom it can almost literally be said : ' the world forgetting, by the world forgot.' But to return to Hutton Bay itself.

Round it lay these high headlands, whose sides were covered with fir trees, on every spot where a foothold could be obtained, in thick masses, between which the dark sandstone stood out in bold relief. The beach was wide and open, extending nearly a mile from end to end, of which at low tide the bright yellow sand seemed as though it had, as it were, pushed the sea backward, far away out from the village and the rude little pier with its rusty old iron lamp-stand on the end — a lamp-stand where they were wont to endeavour, generally without success, to keep an ancient oil lamp alight at nights. Beyond the few cottages clustering round this pier and church, no other sign of human habitation was to be seen except at one point away on the right hand side of the bay, as you looked out to seawards, where the horseshoe was slightly broken by a bend inland.

Here, facing the south-west, on a slope less steep than at other points, might have been seen a cluster of chimneys and gables rising out of the fir trees which hid the remainder of the house from the vulgar gaze, except at one particular point. Partly natural, and partly artificial, here was to be found a kind of plateau, surrounded on three sides by a thick belt of trees, and only open to the south-west, on which stood a very old manor house. Very old could truly be said of it, for even if the prevailing architecture was Elizabethan, still there were ample signs of far older building to be seen. Not a very big place as country houses go, and yet of sufficient size to look a very imposing pile as you viewed it from the single point where anything like a proper one of it could be obtained — namely, the other side of the bay.

Built of local sandstone, of which, however, a good part was covered over with creepers and ivy. The first things to catch the eye were the heavy stone framed windows, and the innumerable chimneys, which seemed to rise from here, there, and everywhere, between the many points of the gabled roof. Had there been rooms in proportion, that is to say, one to every chimney, the place would have rivalled Alnwick, or any other of the show places of England in extent, instead of being, as it was, but little above medium size. But then, you see, the walls were so thick, and there was so much space wasted in apparently useless passages, staircases, and even terraces, that the useful or living part of the building was but little more than the kernel of the nut, a small parcel wrapped in many folds of brown paper.

Certainly when it was built both labour and material must have been much cheaper than they are in our day, or else a vast sum of money had been spent for very little purpose. And the place on which the house was built, perched as it was about half-way up the cliffs, on a sort of plateau, with a road which, except that its surface had been carefully tended, would almost rival the one leading out of Tyne-Hutton village in general unsuitableness. Being on the wrong side of the village, it was further from the railway by a good two miles, and, consequently, over nine miles away. What a place to live in ! most people will exclaim, and with truth. But to return to the house itself. Certainly the spot was about as romantic as anybody could imagine ; the small plateau, of which every inch was occupied either by buildings or gardens, was almost completely sur rounded by fir-trees, except on the one point, the south-west ; here it sloped away in a succession of terraces and short flights of stone steps, right down to the water's edge, to a spot where a small fancy iron jetty had been reared out as a landing place for a sailing boat or two, the house for which stood at no great distance away, sheltered by a small rock.

From this point it made a pretty picture, looking up towards the green-topped height, and seeing half-way the large and imposing facade of the house standing out boldly in front of the darker background. One, two^ five terraces, rising one above the other in regular succession, had to be surmounted before the large stone one on which the house stood was reached. Even then the journey was not done, there being over one hundred yards of walks to be traversed before the house itself was gained. The front entrance was round the corner, facing the fir-trees, and from which the long drive went winding in tortuous circles, through a perfect forest of trees, right away to the top of the cliffs, where an ancient stone gateway gave egress to the main road, or the lane which enjoyed such a misleading title.

The grounds belonging to the place, if not of much use, were of large extent, and, in their way, quite as romantic as the house itself, consisting principally of forest with undergrowth, intersected in all directions by narrow foot-paths and little babbling streams, while within half a mile was a small but deep pond or lake. No fear of any of the inhabitants dying of thirst, for water seemed everywhere, either under or above ground ; the bubble of running water being a sort of continuous accompaniment to the rustle of the wind in the tree tops, and the ripple of the waves against the rocks at foot, for it was not always blowing hard in Hutton Bay. As to the building itself, its form was something of an enlarged letter L turned upside down and reversed — that is to say, the main outline of the structure suggested this letter, but with very rugged edges ; for from every corner, and, indeed, almost everywhere, jutted out innumerable little projections, the use of which would have puzzled most people to explain.

Indeed, these and the many pointed chimney stacks — not forgetting the windows ! — were about the most remarkable points of the outside of the building. So much for the exterior ; now for the interior. Entering by the main entrance which stood at the top of the letter, or in the most narrow side or front of the house, as soon as the doors were opened, as pretty a sight as can be imagined was seen — that is to sa}', had there been enough light to enable any one to do so at all properly ; for the place was dark, horribly dark, although there was plenty of window at the further end. But to describe it a little more in detail. On coming up the drive to this side or front of the house, the first thing to catch the eye would be the beautiful carving above the door, consisting of the full em blazonment of a family, evidently great in the heraldic sense of the word.

The door itself was oak, studded with large headed iron nails, which from their make and appearance betokened that they too were fashioned in the olden time. On the doors being opened and the large red plush curtains pulled aside, the hall was seen in all its length, breadth, and grandeur. Running the whole length of the house, or rather, of the shank or stem of the upturned letter, the far end consisted almost entirely of window — evidently a fairly modern addition — filled in with coloured glass, but of so dark shades that for purposes of light it was of but little service. On it was displayed a profusion of shields, interspersed with crests and all the other et-ceteras usually to be found in such a window. On either side of the hall were doors at irregular intervals, those on the left leading into the various living rooms, while above them, all round the walls, was an overhanging balcony or landing, supported on a row of straight upright marble pillars, almost black in colour and of severe design.

Some old tapestry on the walls, and some black oak furniture completed the picture, if mention of the floor is omitted, which was of white marble, with here and there a mat or so to match the curtains, and give the necessary bit of colour. And the staircase which led up to the overhanging balcony, and the row of doors behind it : it was not hidden away as a thing to be ashamed of or put out of sight. No indeed, the very opposite ; it was — as the lady novelist would say — ' a perfect dream of beauty.' Starting at the right hand top corner of the hall, it too was of old oak, with wide shallow steps covered with thick red felt, and wound up by easy stages, first this way and then that, dividing the great end window into several sections, until the landing place was reached. From this branched out a wide open passage leading straight away at right angles to the hall, towards the part in which were situated the principal guest chambers.

This one also ran the full length of the building in this direction, and terminated in another large window over looking a part of the fir forest. On both sides of this passage, which was of almost equal breadth with the hall, stood a row of doors giving access to what were the oldest and almost finest parts of the house. A large dining-room, drawing-room, morning-room and library were on the ground floor, on what may be called the seaside of the hall, while on the other lay the kitchens, pantries, and other domestic offices, and beyond them the yards and stables. If the hall was dark and almost gloomy-looking, the same was not the case with either of the living rooms, except, perhaps, the library, whose windows were partly over-shadowed by the encroachments of the firs, which had almost reached the house on this side.

With the exception of the drawing-room, all these rooms were furnished after the fashion of a bygone age, and still retained their distinctive features, in spite of the house having changed owners several times within the last hundred years. Yes, such had been the case more than once ; and even within a very few years before the time of this story, the property, after remaining vacant for a considerable time, had been bought by a total stranger to the county. Although to trace up the history of the various owners of the Manor, and especially that of the family who had held it for several hundred years, and were the ones, so tradi tion says, to expel the original owners, the monks, from their possession, to reign in their stead, and whose arms were carved above the great front door, would be an in teresting study, still there is no need to do so now ; for the purposes of these pages it will be sufficient simply to mention that somewhere about the beginning of the century, the last representative of this ancient family sold the whole estate, including even the furniture of the house itself, for a goodly sum to a retired London merchant, and himself passed into oblivion.

From father to son the property descended for the next fifty years or so in the merchant's family, until there came a gap, a horrible gap ; the eldest son did not succeed his father. And why ? Because he died before him, murdered — who by ? It was never known for certain, although there were many who said that the younger brother — the one who eventually succeeded to the estate — could, if he only would, have told very certainly who did the horrid deed. But as all this was only hearsay, and a jury of twelve good men and true had returned a verdict against ' some person or persons unknown,' no one had any right or business even to think such things. Only this much of the whole affair is absolutely certain ; the elder brother was one morning discovered in bed, stabbed to the heart and quite dead ; and, it was added, the brothers were not the best of friends, the younger being jealous of the elder.

Also that he (the younger) had been seen coming out of the room late the night before, looking very angry. In spite of all this, however, the brother was not charged with the crime, or indeed summoned in any other capacity than that of a witness at the inquest. Then followed the verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown, who never being found, the matter gradually sank into the background, and was quickly forgotten. But yet this sad event left its mark behind it, for ever after the house enjoyed the reputation of being haunted, especially the part near the scene of the tragedy. It was affirmed that the spirit of the murdered man walked the passage outside the room — afterwards turned into the principal guest chamber — at certain seasons of the year, as much as in the room itself, and that more than one person had enjoyed a visit from the white-robed figure, with the huge, blood-stained knife still sticking hilt-deep in the spot where the heart of the ghost had beat during his earthly life.

Not a pleasant sight to see, any one will allow, especially if it appeared after you were in bed, in the very one in which the crime had been committed, in the haunted chamber. And worse still, if before retiring to rest, you had been given — with the fullest details — the whole story from beginning to end. But in all fairness to the ghost, it must be allowed that it was only at comparatively rare intervals that he troubled the place with his presence ; for months together, nothing would be either heard or seen of this ghostly visitor, while he as often as not simply appeared in the distance, and not at close quarters, thus sparing the one he 'deigned to honour with his company some interesting but ghastly details. A couple of years later, on the father's death, the son — this man with a brother's blood upon his hands, as so many believed — succeeded, and then began a time, the like of which had never been seen in that respectable county within the memory of living man.

Five, ten twenty years this reign of terror continued, before the end came. At last, however, the man was drowned when out boating in the bay with a company of which the least said the better. Fortunately, his son, the only child, was not with him, being away in another part of the country with his tutor. Of very different stamp to his father, the young fellow would have made a capital landlord, young though he was. But instead of taking up his abode at the Manor, and living' down the evil reputation the place had gained, he must needs take the'whole affair so much to heart, as to refuse to return to the place at all, or even to remain in England. So, instead of this, collecting all his property together, and leaving instructions for the sale of the estate, he with his tutor departed for Australia, at the same time vowing never again to set foot in England.

Perhaps it is not so very surprising that it was some time before a purchaser could be found for the estate. You see, by this time the place had earned anything but a good name, for besides being said to be haunted — and Mr Ghost made frequent appearances in those days — there were many ugly stories afloat about the neighbourhood. Yes, very ugly stories too, .of how this man or that woman, known to be near the spot on some par ticular day, had never afterwards been seen again. And there was more than one solitary instance of these things happening. Whether they had been drowned in the lake, or fallen into the sea, or what, was never known ; the fact remaining, they had been, and were not, as far as their friends were concerned. Whether the police authorities gave full credence to these stories cannot be distinctly affirmed ; anyway, a pretty close watch on the place was kept for a time, until the baffled guardians of the law gave up the unprofitable occupation, and turned their attention and brilliant talents in other directions.

The empty house, left in charge of an old caretaker and his wife, was beginning to get sadly out of repair, and the agent, the man charged with the sale, in despair, when one fine morning a purchaser appeared on the scene. He proved himself one who did not haggle over terms, or inclined to object to pay for his whims. After looking over the house and property, he made an offer for the whole thing — house, furniture, lands — which was so far above the price the agent was prepared to take, that the latter hastened to conclude such a profitable bargain, and be rid ofwhat had proved itself anything but a pleasant charge. Better times were now in store for the old house. Masons, carpenters, upholsterers were soon to be seen by the score swarming over the place, to quickly turn the almost half-ruined pile into something more fit for human habitation.

Not that any of the distinctive characteristics were destroyed ; as far as possible they were preserved. Everything that could be retained was left, while all the new additions were — with the exception of the drawing-room decorations — made to harmon ise with what was there before. But now it is necessary to take a jump of over five years.

Chapter II

A GHOST STORY Early summer is generally beautiful at the seaside, especially on those days when the sun is shining brightly, and making the brilliant yellow sand almost too hot to touch, while the breeze blowing in from the sea is pleasant as it comes in cool little gusts against the brow. It was just such a day as this, about half-past three in the afternoon, when the Manor carriage might have been seen rapidly making its way down the sloping drive towards the house. It had started out some two or three hours earlier on its nine miles' drive to the station, and now was returning with its one solitary passenger inside ; the one it had been to fetch. This was a young man who had come from London on a three weeks' visit to his friends at the Manor ; and yet they could hardly be called his friends, seeing he had never set eyes on any of them before, except the son of the house, whose chum he had been at Eton and Oxford, not so many years before this time.

Clement Carlile was one of those fortunate individuals, who, besides being young and healthy, was absolutely certain that his bread and butter — and even something better — for the next day's consumption was there ready waiting without his having to work for it ; in other and A GHOST STORY 13 plainer words, he was rich. Yes, rich far above the average, for with only a small estate to keep up, his income ran to four figures, with the first — well, not one, two, or even three ! Young in years, not having reached five-and-twenty, yet he looked considerably older, with his huge frame and well-bronzed face ; and as far as looks went, yet again one is forced to include him in the list of the fortunate ones, for, without being exactly an Adonis, he was what is far, far better — good-looking without being effeminate, and of a stature almost gigantic, being over six feet three in his stockings.

For the rest, it is only necessary to add that he was an orphan, while of relatives he would have found it hard to tell you where to find any of them. Rich, young, good-looking, unencumbered, his friends used to wonder why he had never married ; for up to this time he had remained a solitary bachelor, without even going so far as to be engaged, or even — and this is almost more extraordinary — without having given any girl the right to think she had made an impression on this, apparently hard-hearted, but most desirable young man. Down the winding drive, in and out round the corners, came the carriage, until the open space in front of the house was reached, where it drew up with a dash exactly opposite the great front door. ' Halloa, Carlile, glad to see you. Suppose I need not introduce myself, especially on this spot ! ' and a short, thick-set man was by the carriage and holding out his hand almost before the coachman had brought his foam covered steeds — fof* the day was warm, and the pace had been rapid — to a standstill.

Where he had come from, or how he had got there, Carlile could not say, for the great hall door was still firmly shut, and he was not standing there as the carriage turned round the last corner on to the open space. No, no, Mr Kestyn. Jack has told me too much about you for there to be any need of that. How do you do ? May I say that I too am glad to meet you at last ? ' And Carlile hastened to get out of the carriage. Once on the ground together, the difference between the two men was very marked, Carlile towering above his host — for it was he — by a good head and shoulders, and making the latter appear shorter than he really was. Not his very best friend could, or would have ventured on the hopeless task of describing the master of Hutton Manor as a good-looking man. Below the average height, his figure may be described as something like a beer barrel set upon two short thick posts to act as legs.

His face and head were large and flabby, while his hair looked as though a visit to the barber would not do him any harm. Following a fashion not so very often seen, especially among the so-called upper classes, his face was sur rounded by a fringe of hair, while the upper lip and chin were clean shaven. As to his age, that may be put down at anything from fifty onwards. Evidently, he was one of those men who have looked, look, and will look very much the same, year in and year out, until at last they suddenly break down, and their friends with a start begin to reckon up how man}' years they have known them, and how old they themselves are getting. No, Mr Kestyn was not a particularly prepossessing looking personage as he stood welcoming his newly arrived guest in front of the great oak doors of Hutton Manor.

So this was Jack's father ; Carlile could hardly grasp the fact as his mental vision saw his chum, with his laughing face, blue eyes, curly hair, and clean well built figure of a size which, if not running to six feet, was yet above the average by several inches. He had never, you understand, seen his host's photograph, and, now he remembered, Jack had said but little about his father's appearance, even when talking about him, as he A GHOST STORY 15 had often done. He had been ready enough to show those of his mother and sister — what a beauty the latter must be ; Carlile was almost inclined to be in love with her, even although he had never seen her — but there was never one of Mr Kestyn ready for inspection. It had been left behind, forgotten, packed away, or something ; anyway it was never on view.

Carlile had often wondered at this, but now, now that he saw Mr Kestyn, somehow he thought he could understand something of the reason ; no photography could make that big head and short stumpy body look anything but — well, very nearly ugly. ' But all the same, I think I should like to have a picture even of him, if he were my dad ! ' And Carlile sighed as his thoughts went back to his own father — Colonel Carlile — who had died a few short years before, and who in his lifetime had — rather different to Mr Kestyn ! — been reckoned one of the handsomest men in the British army. ' But, I say, why are we standing here ; the servants will look after your traps. Come along in and see the missis and Lucy.' The handshaking over, and the great doors opened, the two men entered the house, and Carlile found himself, for the first time, in Hutton Manor.