The condemned door, or, The secret of Trigavou castle

Contents

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THE SHADOW OF DEATH FALLS ACROSS GUILTY Joys a0 ao

. KEEPING GUARD OVER THE Dae H TRAP . LADY FLAvVIA. SIGNS HER HUSBAND’S

Chapter I Awaiting Her Chosen

One November evening, last year, the Baroness of Houlbecq was brooding all alone in her delightful snuggery in the first story of the left wing of Trigavou Castle, her country seat in Brittany. Her husband, General Baron Houlbecq, “had gone away hunting at dawn, in woods thirty miles distant.

The night was black and the wind blew like blasts of thunder, coming in booming gusts which burst heavy rain clouds at varied intervals. The showers lashed the window panes and made the huge old trees groan again. Altogether it was a time when the nor-wester hinted that good folk ought to keep close to their own fireside.

The Baroness Flavia was in a reverie before the old-fashioned fire-place, where large oak logs blazed, having tossed aside a book upon a Chinese lacquered table.

Her situation required profound reflection, for it seemed about turning to tragedy, the blackest and most guilty perhaps.

Trigavou Castle was a large, rambling structure, half a hundred years old, tacked on a tower, remnant of a glorious stronghold, besieged thrice by the English ; this tower had been maintained by the last proprietor of the old line under the terms of sale, to bear witness to the antiquity of his race. This heir had been ruined by unlucky speculations, so that all he had left to his only son, Alain of Trigavou, was less than a thousand francs a-year.

After the Franco-Prussian war of 1870, land and house were bought by General Houlbecq, who spent the mid-half year here with the wife he espoused after leaving the army. He led a hearty life shooting, hunting and feasting all the neighbouring squires. There was no ball-giving, as he received none but men, though my lady did not show that time hung heavy,on her hands. With perfect cordiality she presided at these ‘“stag-parties,” where the cream of society presented itself in shooting-coats and wading-boots. She so gratified the farmers that they overlooked the “ town lady,” as they called her, putting on airs of elegance, and were lost in admiration of her straightforwardness in greeting.

Lady Flavia was a town lady, indeed, and a high born dame to boot, for her father was the Marquis of Bourbriac, but he had died like the last of the Trigavous, leaving his two daughters never a penny piece. ‘The sisters were alike only in that respect, for Flavia was a very handsome, tall brunette, resembling her mother, a Cuban whom the marquis had married out of love; whilst Viviana, with the pet name of Vivette, was a blonde, sweet and gentle, with no such fiery eyes, brilliant colour or quick wit as Flavia. Their aunt, who had brought up the orphans, set Vivette downasa “silly,” but she was wrong, for Vivette had sound sense, keen wisdom and true goodness. She did not dazzle, but bewitched.

Flavia’s marriage lifted the Bourbriacs out of genteel poverty. She was twenty-five when General Houlhecq (second baron, his father having been ennobled when colonel under Napoleon I.) was violently smitten at a ball given by Marshal MacMahon at the Elysée Palace. The general was

Awaiting her Chosen 9 over fifty, though he did not look his age, and passed for a handsome soldier, Corpuleuce had not spoilt his burly figure ; his face was martial, and that never displeases women ; and out of his twenty thousand dollars of income he endowered the Bourbriac beauty with munificent pin-money.

In three weeks married and installed in the baron’s mansion, Friedland Avenue, Paris, the new couple went for the summer to Trigavou House, and by 1885 they had kept up this course without any accident.

Flavia remained childless, so there was nobody else in the house save Vivette, who would not wed, though her brother-in-law was ready to “ pay expenses and to boot.”

The baron and his wife dwelt in perfect accord, though unlike in tastes and temper. She liked fashion, he hated it. She was coquettish; he simple, wild, even rather rough, like the older type of soldiers. But still no serious rupture had occurred. In Paris, my lady was never maligned, and down in the country her behaviour was irreproachable. The gossips hinted that the devils own always carried on their games under the mask: but there were no grounds for such slurs, as the guests were not of the kind to captivate a beauty who had turned the cold shoulder on notorious lady-killers.

sesides, the general played the sentinel well. He had aged considerably under marriage, the usual penalty on late comers to the Temple of Hymen; it drives them grey to watch a treasure they cannot enjoy.

As their years accumulate, their jealousy augments.

He tried to hide it, but his wife knew what was in the air, and guided herself accordingly. ence she deprived herself of the only company likely to tease her lord and master, Alain of Trigavou.

All he had preserved of his birthright was a farmer’s house, where he svent most of the year. He was a captivating fellow, and the lovely Flavia had met him in town houses of high degree wherein his good old name passed him in spite of the slender purse. When the Houlbecqs came down for the summer, Alain would call, and the general would return his visit in twenty-four hours, and there ceased their relations, though the Hunaudaie Farm was not a long walk from Trigavou. Not being a sportsman, Alain never met the baron and his hard-riding crew in the woods, and so lived on in complete loneliness, till many wondered whence he derived the courage to be the hermit up to Christmas in the bleakest northern country.

Probably the general never had this question strike him. Flavia alone might have answered it, and if her mate had been less out of doors, he might have guessed a letter or two of the key-word. But, though he never thought of it, everything comes to a solution in this inquisitive world.

Flavia was listening in her boudoir, but not to the branches tearing one another in the gale; it seemed as if she were expecting somebody, and yet her husband was not to return till after the morrow. It was St. Hubert’s Day, the patron saint of the chase, and sportsmen will have the day to themselves. They drink deep to their patron wherever they are in the woods or hunting lodges, and willingly forget all about their lonely sponses at home. Lady Houlbecq knew such habits thoroughly and reckoned for some fifty hours of solitude, for the baron on this annual solemnity took along his man coachman and one of the two gamekeepers. The other * one would be the sole guard for the women, and these were all abed early by her ladyship’s orders, a command from which the promulgator excused herself, of course.

The old Saxony china clock denoted midnight, and yet my lady had no inclination for repose. She had dined with her sister, who, not being well at the storm coming on, had sought her couch betimes.

Softened by a shade the lamp-light feebly illumined the room, hung with old tapestry left with the pictures at the sale; in one wall it marked a doorway to the old tower, which nobody entered or thought of entering. With her head leaned back Lady Flavia was looking at the woven figures without seeing them, when a smart tap at the casement made her start up with one leap towards the window, whidhy she

Awaiting her Chosen Ab opened briskly. A man in a hooded waterproof ulster climbed over the crossbar and stepped down into the room.

“ At last yow’re with me!” ejaculated Flavia, clasping him in herarms. “TI had ceased to hope for you to-night.”

“T am only a little behindhand, that’s all! The Hunaudaie is not next door, and this beastly weather has made ditches of the roads.”

“T know that, but I got impatient awaiting you. Besides, I have a bad feeling on me this night—a kind of evil forehoding. Throw off that coat, and let me have a look at you, Alain, my darling.”

‘““There’s plenty of time for love, my darling. Let’s get the window closed first.”

Chapter II The Shadow Of Death Falls Across Guilty Joys

Tue closing of the window was a wise precaution, for the draught had all but put the lamp out, but the revived fire sent out enough beams from the chimney-place to enable Flavia to contemplate her lover’s features when he had uncloaked himself. He was a downright handsome fellow, tall, fair, perhaps a little pale, slender yet strong, with large blue eyes, and long silken moustache, which ended in a curl, like hooks to catch female hearts. Atall events, Lady Houlbecq’s was caught thereby. For Alain of Trigavou, hers was one of those stormy passions which drive a woman of thirty odd into all manner of extravagances. He loved her in a less exalted way, though he did not hesitate to risk his life by scaling the castle wall—when the husband was away. The coolness he opposed to the woman’s transports only whetted her amorous fever,

“ How splendid you are!” murmured she, hanging round his neck to admire and caress him.

He extricated himself gently, and drew her towards the fireside with the rather unromantic intention to dry and warm himself. She let him lead her, but forced him to take the armchair she had vacated, and she knelt before him, clasping her hands and looking him in the eyes.

“Two whole nights to ourselves,” she exclaimed in ecstasy. “ For you'll come again to-morrow, won’t you ?”

“Two, if he does not return in the morning,” answered Alain, smiling. “ But if this rain keeps on it will put a stop to hunting.”

The Shadow of Death Falls Across Guilty Joys 18

“He'll not come home, I tell you. If there’s no hunting, he'll lay by over at Lanvollon, feasting with his hard- drinking mates. They can drink right on for forty-eight hours !”

“Your oracle is less reliable than the barometer, which points to storm. But if he comes I shall have timely warning, as I have a spy below—my old farmer of the Hunaudaie’ He hates him, and he chums in with the servants here and there. Deuce take me if I long to have your Bluebeard catch me here.”

“You are too prudent,” said the lady of the castle with a gloomy brow. “Anybody would think you were afraid of him.”

“So I am—for your dearsake, my pet. He is one of those men who would shoot you off-hand if he barely suspected you.”

“He'll have no doubts. He was jealous, but I lived that out in seven years, while he studied me and eyed me ceaselessly. Now, he believes he fully understands me, and he is convinced that all danger is over. He theorizes upon women as upon the horse. He fancies that at my age I ought to be calm, and that, had I intended to deceive him, I would have tried it long ago. Oh, what it has cost me to sacrifice my youth to this unloved trooper, whom I execrate now as much as Ladore you! But at least I can profit by the leisure left me which I have won so hard. I can see you, and talk lovingly with you—though none too often, alas! And when you cannot steal in, I can never meet you anywhere! I am jealous, too, and fancy oft-times that you are not always alone——”

“Down here?” cried the last of the Trigavous, gaily. “Rather hard to find a flame in this cheerless quarter! You know well that | am quite a hermit, and you ought to be kind to me.”

“Ton’t you believe I am grateful for your giving up society in these long months of exile from the capital! I can never love you enough to repay all you do for me. But I feel that a day will come for your wearying of a life more

7 cruel to bear than the woes of lovers parted by insurmountable hindrances. Even I question if I shall have the bravery to stand such alternatives of mad delight and black despair.”

“But we are doomed to it, for I see no way to end it.”

“What prevents our flight together ?”

Alain made a wry face which left no doubt as to his opinion of the consequences of such a step.

“My dear Flavia, give up so absurd a notion,” he said gravely. ‘“ Were I to consent in your ruin that way, you would not be slow to bitterly regret my spoiling your existence.

“Why don’t you own that you regret the burden of a woman? Oh, you never loved me as I do you!”

“T love you quite as much, but not in the same way.”

“ Ay, you reason ; you take the opinion of dolts and the commonplace, and not to run counter to it, I must continue this seldom seeing you, and drag lifelong this crushing shameful chain.” .

“Not all your life, darling. This mate of yours will surely pass away before you, and then you are a widow.”

“Yowll make me your wife?” interrupted the baroness, looking at her lover straight in the whites of the eyes.

“Why should I not ?” answered Trigavou, evasively. “ At the same time, I do not see so much gain in that—or much desirable in the part of a Benedict. I am not used to it, you see.”

“Our gain will be in our freedom—our happiness—our wealth——”

“T don’t dispute the freedom or the bliss, but wealth is a very different matter. [am not wealthy, or you either.”

“Stop! Ihave read my husband’s will at the solicitor’s, leaving me all his fortune, save an unimportant legacy to my sister.”

“T was not aware of that,” muttered the other.

Tt was a little strange that Vivette should not be remembered handsomely. The two sisters did not lead the same

' Th Shadow of Death Falls Across Guilty Joys 15 country life. The elder took no concern in the household, whilst the other, rising with the lark, attended to all the minutiz of the grand establishment. The general relied on her even overseeing the stable, for she knew all about horses, and liked them. Moreover he had instituted her his almoner, and she did all the visiting of the poor, distributing coin, food, and the clothing of her own making. When the local doctor could not come she looked to the sick, and had set up a dispensary in the castle. Vivette hada talent for charitable work, and was so pleased to exercise it that she never demurred at trudging through muddy roads to the wretched hovels, whilst her sister mooned away her leisure.

Trigavou’s silence after her confidence surprised my lady not a little.

“ However, it little troubles me who gets the money,” said he finally, with a happy-go-lucky air. “Tam not after your fortune, and since I possess your affection nothing in the future worries me. Let us enjoy the fleeting hour and talk of other things than delusions. My Flavia is ina deucedly logical humour to-night, quite novel to me. You have hardly more than kissed me, and any outsider would fancy you were seeking a quarrel with me.”

“17” exclaimed the false wife, drawing the speaker to her till their lips met. ‘‘ You do not understand me, and you never will! I would never differ from you if I were not so fond. You are my all in this world, and I must have you mine, body and soul, as lam your own! Were[ to lose you, I should not outlive you; and whenever I think how you

” risk your dear life to see me—”

“ Pooh, risk, nothing !” replied Trigavou, smiling. ‘ Even granting your husband came back suddenly, it would not be the suddenness of a bombshell. We should hear him’ coming in time for me to climb down into the grounds by the same road that brought me here.” *

“ A road where one false step would precipitate you to your death! We are twenty feet above the ground here.”

“TJ daresay, but the ivy ladder is strong and the natura)

rungs are as familiar as the steps of my town chambers. Why, I made them myself, child that you are, when I was a boy, rook hunting in the old tower top. I know every nook and cranny in the tower, which Duguesclin defended of yore, and there’s no danger of my falling there.”

“There is a danger somewhere, then, you own?”

“ But nothing much! Still, at my last coming, I was a bit behind-hand, and just as I was getting over the wall, or, rather, through the breach—you know—dawn was peeping. I darted rapidly home, but behind a hedge, a hundred paces off, I espied one of your keepers, a strapping chap, who always looks hard at me whenever we meet on the road. What was he after? Some vermin, or me? Had he seen me scramble over the wall? But you may be sure, I never lingered to ask him. I cut across the fields and he did not follow me. But it’s an awkward incident, and it makes me uneasy about the consequences.”

“Why did you never tell me before ? That keeper is Pierre Calorguen—my husband’s shadow ; he was in his regiment and would let himself be chopped to. mincemeat for him. We are ruined if he recognised you.”

“ Ruined is a strong word. We need only take more care. At the very worst, we will have to meet at the decayed summer-house at the far end of the grounds. You can give me the key of that little gate in the wall. It will net be so comfortable as your rooms, but that man will not be so ’cute as to hunt us up there. Anyway, I little fear he will acquaint his master—the general is one of those who would ill-receive such a complaint from a servant.”

You do not know what Calorguen is; I have not told you everything. In the first place, he is in love with me—”

“Nonsense! You do not mean to say that he has offered you his humble suit ?”

“No; but I read it in his eyes—speaking eyes, his! Women understand that dumb language, and I am sure I am not wrong. The fellow loves me.”

“The deuce! The tangle is more complicated now. This

The Shadow of Death Falls Across Guilty Joys 17 sort of scamp is likely to drop the baron an anonymous letter. I must be on my guard, and in fact, I shall——”

“ Hist !” interrupted her ladyship, laying a finger on the speaker’s lips.

“What ?” asked he, preparing to spring up.

“Something I hear—like carriage wheels ; and I fancy I heard the gate closed.”

A bell rang, and its clang was brought clear and distinct by the rising wind.

“Tis my husband!” exclaimed the baroness.

“There is still time to get away clean by the window,” observed Trigavou, without showing too much emotion.

“No! Calorguen will shoot you! I am sure he has betrayed you. Knowing where you cross the wall, he’ll waylay you there. He will maintain that he thought he was shooting a burglar.”

“ And if I linger the general will kill me! However, I would rather wait for him, for—if his wrath is vented upon you, ’ll use my revolver.”

The pair were both afoot now, facing the danger.

“Come,” she suddenly ejaculated, pushing him towards the hangings, “ we are safe! This covers the inlet to a hiding place in the old tower.”

“So it does, and well I know it! When I was a naughty boy, my father used to black-hole me in it. Capital suggestion yours—especially as I know besides——”

“Come, come, I tell you!”

The tapestry was not nailed up and down, and hence the lady could draw it aside from covering a worm-eaten door, This panel had no lock, only a rusty latch which was easily lifted. A current of damp air came out upon her cheek and made her recoil as if from a charnel-house. But her lover stepped in boldly enough and gave her a farewell kiss, saying—

“Mind, have no fear, my precious! Just forget where I am and brazen it out with the jealous Turk, J promise you we shall soon be together again.”

He disappeared into the gloom. The panel closed behind him, and the faithless spouse, letting the curtains fall, stood forth a little and listened.

The stair without creaked under a heavy martial step she knew but too well. There was not a spare moment to call up a face for the occasion. But, in great conjugal crises, the imminence of peril gives guilty women coolness and presence of mind. Flavia dropped into the armchair which her lover had occupied, took upon her lap the novel cast down when Trigavou tapped at the window, placed her feet on the fender and closed her eyes as if napping.

It was high time, for the general stamped in without knocking,

To the terrified wife’s ear, her husband’s step sounded like the footfall of avenging fate !

Chapter III Keeping Guard Over The Death Trap

Tue baroness had not thought of relighting the lamp; the fire had not been replenished for a time, and flickered feebly, and the intruder had come up without a light. He stopped on the threshold, surprised to see it so dark.

“ Are you there, Flavia ?” he challenged, but not in a very high voice.

She took heed not to answer, and would have been only too delighted if sleep might have shielded her, but he saw better now he was accustomed to the twilight. He came over to the mantelshelf, took down a candlestick and applied a brand from the hearth, and waved the candle so near her face that she was forced to open her eyes.

“Kh, is that you, dear?” she murmured, stretching like a cat, or a woman aroused.

“Yes, I,” returned the general crossly. “I was not expected.”

“Certainly not, since you sent word this morning that you would spend a couple of days over at Commander Jagon’s, his coursing is so good.”

“T did intend to, but there’s no hunting this weather. It comes down in a torrent, and it promises to keep on to-morrow. After dinner I had the dogcart out and drove home.”

Still standing, the speaker turned his back ou the fire, and balefully eyed his wife, who made no move to rise. This man of sixty was an upright and robust giant, like an oak. From his short, thick moustache, curved round the corner of his mouth, and his stern eye under a heavy brow, he resembled Bismarck. On this night, contrary to his rule, he had not changed his out-door dress to visit his wife in her boudoir. He wore boots up to his thighs, a driving waterproof and a Canadian otter skin cap pointed like a Prussian helmet. This rough costume did not soften his aspect, and his wild charge in promised nothing pleasant. The baroness reasoned that he would not have rung at the gate so loudly if he had meant to take her by surprise, but in spite of all her self-encouragement, she remained alarmed.

“JT thought you would have retired. You are not usually up so late,” observed M. du Houlbecq.

“That’s so, but I was reading and nodded off,” faltered the lady. “ Better I should be at rest; Iam ready to drop of weariness.”

“Still, you won’t mind my taking the chill offat your fire, Five leagues in an open cart in the freezing wind and rain— I tell you, I am an icicle.”

“To as you like, dear, of course.”

The general sat astride of a chair, and made up the fire with the tongs. Ugly weapon! His wife shuddered—not with cold.

“ Reading, eh?” he said, taking up the book fallen at the foot of her chair. ‘Some love story, I'll be bound.”

“ A novel by Balzac.”

“TJ ouessed so. You never did care for sensible writing.”

“Youdo not want me to read the history of the late war, do you?” she retorted, forcing a smile.

“JT would rather you made no jestsat me, Iam not the stupid old war horse you take me for, and I have never imposed on you any military notions. But I do assert that novels are the bane of women.”

He had opened the volume and now gave the title a glance, “* Qa Grand Bretéche ; or, Sealed Up,—what’s sealed up ? I dare say some secret which prevents an honourable man punishing his wanton mate.”

“You are altogether out of it, my dear. It is the story of a husband who takes a glut of vengeance,” answered Lady du Holbecq, sharply.

Keeping Guard over the Death Trap 21

She almost immediately repented having said so much and so sharply, for Balzac’s most tragic short story turned on a situation quite akin to this, in which her guilt had precipitated her lover. But she reassured herself with the reflection that the general had not read it, and probably never would, In fact he had forgotten all about it already.

“ Are you quite by yourself here?” he inquired carelessly, as he toasted his boots.

“ As you see,” answered the lady, with an effort. ‘“ Vivette usually sits up till ten og so, but she turned tired to-night and went to her own apartments after dinner. So I am standing in need of rest.”

“Nobody prevents your taking it. You don’t think your husband in the way, do you? Iam not going to my own room, where there will not be the ghost of a fire,and where it will be as cold as the buried end of the North Pole. Don’t mind me, my love.”

There was no answer. The baroness could no longer doubt that she was suspected, and her terrified thoughts asked if he meant to stand sentinel over this keyless door of the hiding place where Alain Trigavou was ensconced. The silence of the general, too, was more fearsome than his questions.

“Did you take a stroll in the grounds?” he suddenly inquired.

“In the wet ? Certainly not. Why so strange a question ?”

“Only because the wet is tracked all over the carpet.”

True enough, Trigavou’s boots had left very visible muddy marks of his nocturnal tramp in miry roads, and the drip of his coat had spattered even to the armchair.

“Tt may have been Rose, my maid,” stammered the hapless lady.

“You had better give her a ‘carpeting’ to-morrow,” returned the old soldier, ironically, “for spoiling a fine Gobelins carpet.”

Again fell that stern silence, which the confused wife did not attempt to break. She felt that she was lost, and had not enough courage to seek about for means to escape. It wasas much as she dared to do to raise her eyes for a peep at the hard face of her inflexible partner, who was no doubt meditatating vengeance. What kind? She could not recall his mention of the secret nook in the great tower, but she could not suppose he was unaware of it. If, then, he knew about it, he must infallibly guess where the lover had taken refuge. Yet, for the time being, he appeared to heed it not. After a quarter hour’s perfect stillness he rose abruptly, went straight to the window by which Trigavou had come in, opened it and bent out to have a look round below.,

The bystander’s idea was that he had set Calorguen to watch at the base of the building and wanted to make sure he was on duty. Houlbecq slammed the window to, and began striding the room.

“Why are you not a-bed?” he suddenly asked.

“ Waiting for your departure.”

“Too long a wait, then. [ don’t feel like sleep, and you do look upset. Pray do not mind me; I shall sit up by you and keep the fire going.”

She saw that she had better yield, so she compromised by lying down dressed under the canopy of the huge fourposter in a recess over against the tapestry masking the ingress to the hiding-place.

“T shall not disturb you, love,’ he went on, ‘with my bivouac.”

So saying, he settled down snugly in the armchair which the baroness had vacated and made nostir. The other, as may readily be imagined, was not disposed to sleep. She studied the enigma in its full horror and painfully puzzled out how it might end.

She did not doubt that her heroic Alain would perish of cold and hunger rather than expose her by his revelation to the fury of a most violent husband. She believed that her husband must have acted as he had if his intention had been to drive her lover into that stone trap. Hence, his plan was to blockade the prison till he was forced to come forth. But she hoped that the siege could not be so vigorous that

Keeping Guard over the Death Trap 25

Trigavou’s flight might not be in some brief interval facilitated.

But the means? She knew of none, but she was bound to contrive one.

if her husband persisted in staying there till next day, at least he would hardly prevent Vivette coming in, and two sisters can do anything in concert against a man. The general’s decoying away, if only for ten minutes, would suffice for the last of the Trigavous to slip round by some back stairs, or even mount on to the roof, knowing the w ole building as be did.