The Mystery of the Ravenspurs. White Fred Merrick
to be encountered before the heart of the mystery could be revealed. He felt cast down and discouraged. There was bitterness in his heart for those who had deprived him of his precious sight.
"Oh, if I could only see!" he cried. "A week or month to look from one eye into another, to strip off the mask and lay the black soul bare. And yet if the one only guessed what I know, my life would not be worth an hour's purchase! And if those people at the castle only knew that the powers of hell – living, raging hell – were arrayed against them! But they would not believe."
An impotent sigh escaped the speaker. Just for the moment his resolution had failed him. It was some time before he became conscious of the fact that some one was dogging his footsteps.
"Do you want to see me?" he demanded.
There was no reply for a moment. Abell came up cautiously. He looked around him, but so far as he could see he and Ravenspur were alone. As he caught sight of the latter's face he had no ground for further doubt.
"I did want to see you and see you alone, sir," Abell replied. "I believe I have the pleasure of speaking to Mr. Ralph Ravenspur?"
"The same, sir," Ralph said coldly. "You are a stranger to me."
"A stranger who brings a message from a friend. I was to see you alone and for two days I have been waiting for this opportunity. My employer asks me to deliver this box into your hands."
At the same time Abell passed the little brass case into Ralph's hand. As his fingers closed upon it a great light swept over his face; a hoarse shout came from lips that turned from red to blue, and then to white and red again. So Tchigorsky had behaved when he discovered that this man still lived.
"Who gave you this, and what is your message?" Ravenspur panted.
"The message," said Abell, "was merely this. I was to give you the box and say: 'Tchigorsky – Danger,' and walk away, unless you detained me."
"Then my friend Tchigorsky is alive?"
"Yes, sir; it is my privilege to be his private secretary."
"A wonderful man," Ralph cried; "perhaps the most wonderful man in Europe. And to think that he is alive! If an angel had come down from heaven and asked me to crave a boon, I should have asked to have Tchigorsky in the flesh before me. You have given me new heart of grace; you are like water in a dry land. This is the happiest day I have known since – "
The speaker paused and mumbled something incoherent. But the stolid expression had gone from his scarred face, and a strange, triumphant happiness reigned in its stead. He seemed years younger, his step had grown more elastic; there was a fresh, broad ring in his voice.
"Tchigorsky will desire to see me," he said. "Indeed, it is absolutely essential that we should meet and that without delay. A time of danger lies before us – danger that the mere mortal does not dream of. Take this to Tchigorsky and be careful of it."
He drew from a chain inside his vest a small case, almost identical to the one that Abell had just handed to him, save that it was silver, while the other was brass. On it were the same queer signs and symbols.
"That will convince my friend that the puzzle is intact," he continued. "We hold the key to the enigma – nay, the key to the past and future. But all this is so much Greek to you. I will come and see my friend on Friday; but not in the guise of Ralph Ravenspur."
"What am I to understand by that, sir?" Abell asked.
"It matters nothing what you understand," Ralph cried. "Tchigorsky will know. Tell him 7:15 at Euston on Friday, not in the guise of Ravenspur or Tchigorsky. He will read between the lines. Go and be seen with me no more."
Ralph strode off with his head in the air. His blood was singing in his ears; his pulse was leaping with a new life.
"At last," he murmured; "after all these years for myself and my kin! At last!"
CHAPTER VII
MORE LIGHT
There was a curious, eager flush on Ralph Ravenspur's face. He rose from his seat and paced the room restlessly. Those long fingers were incessantly clutching at something vague and unseen. And, at the same time, he was following the story that Geoffrey had to tell with the deepest attention.
"What does it mean, uncle?" the young man asked at length.
"I cannot tell you," Ralph replied. His tones were hard and cold. "There are certain things no mortal can understand unless – ; but I must not go into that. It may be that you have touched the fringe of the mystery – "
"I am certain that we are on the verge of a discovery!" Geoffrey cried eagerly. "I am sure that stuff those strangers were making was the same as the drug or whatever it was that came so near to making an end of my grandfather. If I knew what to do!"
"Nothing – do nothing, as you hope for the future!"
The words came hissing from Ralph's lips. He felt his way across to Geoffrey and laid a grip on his arm that seemed to cut like a knife.
"Forget it!" he whispered. "Fight down the recollection of the whole thing; do nothing based upon your discovery. I cannot say more, but I am going to give you advice worth much gold. Promise me that you will forget this matter; that you will not mention it to a soul. Promise!"
Geoffrey promised, somewhat puzzled and dazed. Did Ralph know everything, or was he as ignorant as the rest?
"I will do what you like," said Geoffrey. "But it is very hard. Can't you tell me a little more? I am brave and strong."
"Courage and strength have nothing to do with it. A nation could do nothing in this case. I am going to London to-day."
"You are going to London alone?"
"Why not? I came here from the other side of the world alone. I have to see a doctor about my eyes. No, there is no hope that I can ever recover my sight again; but it is possible to allay the pain they give me."
Ralph departed. A dogcart deposited him at Biston Junction, and then the servant saw him safely into the London train. But presently Ralph alighted and a porter guided him to a cab. A little later and the blind man was knocking at the door of a cottage in the poorer portion of the town.
A short, stocky man, with a seafaring air, opened the door.
"Is it you, Elphick?" Ralph asked.
The short man with the resolute face and keen, gray eyes exclaimed with pleasure:
"So you've got back at last, sir. Come in, sir. I am alone here as you know. I knew you'd want me before long."
Ralph Ravenspur felt his way to a chair. James Elphick stood watching him with something more than pleasure in his eyes.
"We have no time to spare," Ralph exclaimed. "We must be in London to-night, James. I am going up to see Dr. Tchigorsky."
"Dr. Tchigorsky!" Elphick exclaimed. "Didn't I always say as how he'd get through? The man who'd get the best of him ain't born yet. But it means danger, sir. Nothing we ever carried out with the doctor was anything else."
"Danger you do not dream of," Ralph said impressively. "But I cannot discuss this with you, James. You are coming with me to London. Get the disguise out and let me see if your hand still retains its cunning."
Apparently it had, for an hour later there walked from the cottage toward the station an elderly, stout man, with white hair and beard and whiskers. His eyes were guarded by tinted glasses; the complexion of the face was singularly clear and ruddy. All trace of those cruel criss-cross lines had gone. Wherever Elphick had learned his art, he had not failed to learn it thoroughly.
"It's perfect; though I say it as shouldn't," he remarked. "It's no use, sir; you can't get on without me. If I'd gone with you to Lassa, all that horrible torture business would never have happened."
Ralph Ravenspur smiled cautiously. The stiff dressing on his face made a smile difficult in any case.
"At all events, I shall want you now," he said.
It was nearly seven when the express tram reached Euston. Ralph stood on the great bustling, echoing, platform