King of the Castle

“Thank you, Mr Chris,” she said hurriedly; “I’m better now,” and as he left her immediately, she hurried up to her room, opened her box, and poured out a portion of the contents of a phial into a glass.

Half an hour later, Claude was roused from her sad musings by one of the servants, who announced that Mrs Woodham was “took bad.”

It was something to divert Claude’s thoughts, and she hurried up to the bedroom to lay her hand upon the woman’s burning brow.

“Are you in pain, Sarah?”

“Hah!”

A long sigh, as if the cool, soft hand had acted like a professors rod in an electrical experiment, and the pain had been discharged.

“No, no – no pain.”

The woman’s eyes were closed, now that she had taken hold of the hand that had seemed to give her rest, and clung to it, keeping it by her cheek as she half-turned over in her bed; while Claude sent word that she was going to stay there and watch. And there, in spite of Mary Dillon’s prayers to let her stay, she did watch, and listen to Sarah Woodham’s muttered words.

“At rest now,” she cried twice. “Now he will sleep; or will he meet him face to face?”

Toward morning she slept calmly, and when, at daybreak, Mary stole into the room, exhaustion had done its work, and Claude was sleeping too.

Volume Three – Chapter Three.

Glyddyr Requires a Pick-me-up

“Guv’nor aboard?”

Glyddyr was seated in the cabin, restlessly smoking a cigar, and gazing through the open window at the Fort, where it stood up grey and glittering in the sunshine, and holding within it, protected by the memory of its builder, the two objects for which Parry Glyddyr longed.

He had made up his mind a dozen times over to go straight to the place and see Claude, but the recollection of that horrible night kept him back, and he gave up, to go on pacing the little saloon, talking to himself wildly.

For how, he said, could he approach Claude now – he, the destroyer of her father’s life – go and ask her to listen to him, talk to her and try to lead her into thinking that, before long, she must become his wife – tell her that it was her duty, that it was her father’s wish, when all the time it would seem to him that the mocking, angry spirit of the dead would be pervading his old home, looking at him furtively from his easy-chair, from his window and door, as he had seen him look a score of times before.

No: it was too horrible; he dared not.

Three times since Gartram’s death he had, with great effort, written kindly letters – he could not go to the Fort and speak – telling Claude that she was not to think him unfeeling for not calling upon her, but to attribute it to a delicacy upon his part – a desire not to intrude upon her at such a time; and that he was going away for a cruise, but would shortly be back, then he would call.

Three times he did set sail, and as many times did he come back into the harbour after being out for a few hours, to the disgust of the crew.

“The skipper’s mad,” they said; “drinks a deal too much, and he’ll have the ‘horrors’ if he don’t mind. He used to be able to cruise a bit, and now, if there’s a screw loose in the engine, she careens over, or there’s a cloud to wind’ard, he’s back into port, and here we are getting rusty for want of a run.”

It was always so. So soon as they were a few miles away, Glyddyr saw his rival taking advantage of his absence, and winning Claude over to his side, and with her the wealth that was to have been his.

“If I hadn’t been such a fool,” he would mutter, “I might have had it easy enough.” And he would sit day after day watching the Fort with his double glass, thinking of the wealth lying there – how easily it could be snatched by foul means, seeing how well he knew the place.

But common sense would step in then, and remind him that everything would be locked up now, perhaps sealed, and that Gartram’s arrangements were secure enough to set even burglars at defiance. No; it must be by fair play. He must lose no more time, but go to the Fort, and quietly show Claude that he was waiting, and contrive to make her confide in him – let him help her, so that he might gradually strengthen his position.

“And it wants no strengthening,” he said angrily; “it was her father’s wish, and we are betrothed.”

Then a fit of trembling assailed him, and he shrank from going up to the place, where it would seem as if Gartram were standing at the entrance, stern and forbidding, to keep him back.

He flew to brandy again, to steady his shaking nerves.

“No,” he gasped, as he drained his glass; “I can’t do it. I’m bad enough, but I can’t go and court the daughter after – ”

“Curse you, be quiet!” he cried, smiting himself across the mouth. “Do you want to blab to everybody the story of the accident?”

He seized the binocular again to watch the way up to the Fort, in jealous dread lest Chris Lisle should go up there; but, though he was constantly watching, and often saw Chris go out from his lodgings, it was mostly with his rod upon his shoulder, and in the other direction – toward the bridge and the glen.

And so the days glided by, till one morning, as he sat watching, longing to go up to the Fort, but putting off his visit till time had made him more confident and firm, he suddenly caught sight of a figure – the tall, sturdy figure of a man – going up to the entrance-gate.

Glyddyr was all excitement on the instant. A stranger – a well-dressed man – going up there! What could it mean?

He hardly left the little porthole through which he watched that day, but was constantly directing his glasses at the grey building.

Towards afternoon he saw the tall man come out from the study window, and begin walking up and down with his hands behind his back; then he stopped in a corner sheltered from the wind, and directly after there came a faint film of blue smoke rising, and Glyddyr looked on as the stranger walked to and fro.

“One of the old man’s best cigars, I’ll be bound,” muttered Glyddyr, laying down the glass, and biting his nails. “Who can he be?”

Ten minutes after, as Glyddyr sat there, glass in hand, he saw two figures in black come out of the front entrance, and go along the terrace a little way, to stand watching the sea.

He had it all there in miniature within the double circle of those glasses: Claude and Mary Dillon; and he could almost make out the expression upon the two pale countenances, till they moved slowly away and joined the tall gentleman who was walking up and down, and for the next hour they were in his company, ending by going in together, and the terrace was blank.

“A visitor – seems to be young – on familiar terms. There is no brother; I never heard of a cousin. Who can it be?”

Glyddyr gnawed his moustache, for here was a fresh complication. He could see no other reason for a visitor to be at Gartram’s house than as a fortune-hunter in search of Claude’s hand. This, then, was a new danger – from a man who was openly received there, and seemed quite at home. So that, while he was watching for the dangers of an assault upon the Fort by Chris Lisle, another had entered and taken possession.

“While I, like a cursed coward, have hung about, not daring to renew my suit.”

“Guv’nor aboard?”

Glyddyr had heard no splash of oars, nor the light jar of a boat touching his yacht side, but that voice made him start to his feet, and stand grinding his teeth.

“All right, I’ll go down.”

The next minute he was face to face with Gellow, dressed in a jaunty-looking yachting suit, and smoking a very strong cigar.

“Well, Guvnor,” he said, with an unpleasant grin, as he looked Glyddyr in the face, “there’s my hand if you like to take it; if you don’t, you can leave it alone, for it’s all the same to me. We parted huffy and short, and I’ll own up I was going to be very nasty. You kicked out, and it made me feel it. I was going to bite, Glyddyr, but I said to myself: ‘No; we’ve been good friends, and I won’t round upon him now.’”

“Why have you come down?”

“Now, come, don’t talk like that to a man who wants to help you. Come down to see you, of course.”

“For money – to badger me for payment of some of your cursed bills.”

“Oh, Glyddyr, my dear boy, what a fellow you are! No; I forgive you your nastiness, and I haven’t come down for money – there.”

“Then why have you come?”

“Two reasons.”