The Quiet Gentleman

The Earl spent the remainder of the day between dozing and waking. His two nurses found him docile, swallowing nourishment and the medicine they gave him, and acquiescing in Miss Morville's ban on visitors; but his pulse continued to be agitated, and his brief spells of sleep were uneasy. Towards night, he seemed to be more comfortable; and, rousing himself from his abstraction, he resolutely opposed Miss Morville's scheme to share the night watch with his valet. There was no real need for a watch to be kept, and perceiving that insistence would only tease him, Miss Morville consented to go to bed. It was arranged that Turvey should spend the night on a truckle-bed set up in the dressing-room; and with a silent resolve to pay at least one visit to the sick-room during the night, Miss Morville withdrew to her own bedchamber. She was, in fact, extremely weary, and although her conscience told her that she ought to visit the Dowager before retiring, she felt quite unequal to the strain of a conversation with that lady.

It was ten o'clock when she laid her head on the pillow, and she almost instantly fell asleep, waking rather more than two hours later, within ten minutes of the time she had set for herself. She lit her candle, and got up. She had removed only her dress and her slippers on going to bed, and these were soon resumed, and her hair tidied. Picking up her candle, she stole down the gallery, and round the angle of the court into the gallery on to which the Earl's bedroom opened. The house was very silent, but a lamp had been set on a table outside the Earl's door, and dimly lit the gallery. Miss Morville stealthily opened the door, and crept into the room.

Here too a lamp was burning low, set at a little distance from the bed, that its light should not worry the Earl. He seemed to be sleeping, but the tumbled bedclothes indicated that he was restless. The sound of heavy and rhythmic breathing coming from the dressing-room informed Miss Morville that Turvey, at all events, was enjoying an excellent night's repose. She saw with displeasure that the fire had been allowed to die down, and went softly to lay more wood upon it. Then she returned to the bedside, and ventured, very cautiously, to draw the quilt, which was slipping off the bed, over the Earl's exposed shoulder. He stirred, but he did not open his eyes, and after standing still for a moment she began to tiptoe towards the door.

She had almost reached it when she was checked by a sound she could have sworn was a footstep. It was muffled, but even as she decided that she had been mistaken she heard it again. She was puzzled, for it came neither from the gallery nor from the dressing-room, but seemed rather to be located opposite the dressing-room. It was followed by a sound so like the brushing of a hand across a door that her heart jumped. She moved swiftly back to the bed, and stood there, staring through the dim light at the wall to the right. One swift, uncertain glance she cast towards the dressing-room, as though she would have called to Turvey; then she closed her lips, and again searched with her eyes the other side of the room.

The wall was panelled, like the rest of the room, the sections masked by carved pilasters, and the dado and skirting mitred round in an unbroken line. The light of the flames, which were beginning to lick round the logs she had laid on the fire, flickered over the interlaced arches, and the elaborately carved capitals. The brushing sound was heard again, like someone groping in darkness. Then there came the unmistakable click of a lifting latch. Miss Morville stood rigidly still. Suddenly she knew that the Earl was awake; she heard him move, and before she could turn to look at him felt his hand grasp her wrist warningly. She looked quickly down, and saw that he too had his eyes fixed on the panelling. He said, so softly that she scarcely heard him: "Quiet!"

Her heart was beating uncomfortably fast, but she knew her presence to be safeguard enough, and she had not meant to raise the alarm.

The woodwork creaked; one of the sections of the wainscot was sliding behind another, and the lamplight showed a hand grasping the edge of it.

CHAPTER 17

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The aperture was widening slowly, but the lamp had been turned too low for its light to be thrown into the cavity revealed by the removal of the panel. There was a moment's pause, which Miss Morville found singularly nerve-racking, and then the silence was broken by a voice, raised little above a whisper, which uttered urgently: "St. Erth!"

The grip was removed from Miss Morville's wrist. "Come in, Martin!" the Earl said calmly.