  Produced by Al Haines. [image] Cover art [image] "AS HE FLEW BY HE AIMED A SAVAGE BLOW AT ME" (Page The Black Box A Tale of Monmouth's Rebellion BY W. BOURNE COOKE Author of "Madam Domino" "Bellcroft Priory" Illustrated by John de Walton BLACKIE AND SON LIMITED TO Contents CHAP.
Illustrations THE BLACK BOX Prologue My friends, beware of slim-legged, nimble-footed, white-faced men, in sober grey, who tell long tales! They make for mischief. Nor do I warn you without reason; for of such an one I reaped great trouble. It was in the cool of a still June evening, as I rode leisurely among these pleasant Dorset lanes of ours, that I came upon him sitting on the roadside, beneath a larch tree, hugging his bony knees and muttering like a soothsayer. His hat--an ancient, greasy thing--lay on the ground beside him; his grizzled hair seemed to grow upright on a strange-shaped head which ran into a veritable peak towards the centre; while his face was so lined and bloodless that it looked for all the world like crinkled parchment. As for his small, pale eyes, they rose and fell beneath a pair of quivering lids which kept time with his lips. But what, I think, surprised me most was that although he must have heard me, he took no heed whatever--his lips and eyelids went on fluttering as though the road were empty. All this was so unlikely and amazing that, on coming level with the fellow, I pulled up to look at him; yet, notwithstanding that I fairly blocked his view, he gave no sign of seeing me, but went on jabbering like the apes which sailors bring ashore. Verily, it seemed he must be either deaf and blind, or daft; therefore, "What ails thee, friend?" I cried. To my no small astonishment he sprang up as one shot, and for a moment stood there staring at me in a lost, dazed manner; then, raising both hands to his egg-shaped head, he murmured: "Save us! So I was not out there among the Indies?" He pointed with a long, thin finger seaward. "Nay, friend," I answered soothingly, for indeed I now made certain he was daft. "Thou wast sitting on a tussock in a Dorset lane, three miles from Lyme." "Lyme!" he muttered. "King's Lyme! Lyme Regis, say you?" "The same," said I. "Ah! then Heaven be thanked!" says he, shuddering as he hugged his slim, gaunt body. "For, look you, methought for certain I was out among the blacks again. Wast ever in the Indies, friend, among the man-eaters?" he added, glancing swiftly up at me with slit-like eyes. "Nay," I answered, laughing. "I was never nearer them than Portland, yonder." "Then have you much to give thanks for," said he, raising his fingers tip to tip, as priests do. "Yea, verily, ye cannot be too thankful that the heathen are unknown to you. I, who have witnessed their abominations, tell ye so. For, look you, friend, two long accursed years I lived among the savages, and was partaker, willy-nilly, in their wickedness. It fell out thus. I and eight others were wrecked upon a little island in the far South Seas. Perchance 'twas a judgment on us, for our captain was a buccaneer who spared not anyone. Howsoever that may be, 'tis certain we were wrecked, and out of six-and-twenty souls but nine of us reached land, nor was the captain one of these. That island, friend, was glorious to behold; a Paradise of beauty. Methinks I see it now" (he shut his eyes)--"its waving palms, its many-coloured birds and flowers. Aye, truly, it was, as I said before, a Paradise!" He continued after a slight pause. "But we did not enjoy its beauties long, for as on the second night we lay asleep beneath the stars (not having seen a soul upon the island, and therefore feeling safe),--as we thus slept, I say, we were set upon by savages, and I, even I alone, was left alive to tell this tale. We had saved some muskets from the wreck, and thus, aroused by the shrieks of my hapless comrades who had been speared to death while yet asleep, I, who had lain some distance from them, leapt up and fired into the murderous wretches, killing one of them. At that the others stood stock-still for a moment, like dumb, frightened beasts--Heavens! how amazed they looked!--then, to my great astonishment (for I made certain my last hour was come), they all, as one man, dropped face downwards on the ground, and, rubbing their noses in the earth and patting their ugly heads, broke forth in dismal wails. But, verily, I understood the matter. They had never heard a musket-shot before; they took me for a god; they worshipped me. Nor was I slow to make the most of it. First I recharged my piece, then with a cry which made them turn their wicked faces up, I pointed to it. Then, may I die if one and all did not come crawling up to lick my feet like dogs. "Well, friend, to make few words of it, when those thrice-accursed fellows departed to their own island in canoes, I went with them; and there, for two long, weary years I reigned among them like a king. I was accounted to have power to heal all sickness. My frown brought death. Moreover, I had some skill in tricks of hand and eye, the which I played upon them to a right good purpose. Look you, this is one of them." Here he brought forth from his pocket six small carven balls of wood, about the size of pistol-bullets, and throwing them up swiftly one by one, caught each in his mouth as it descended. Then, by what means I know not, he contrived to make them seem to reappear by way of eyes, and ears, and nose, and sleeves--yea, verily, from everywhere except his mouth; until the last of them was found inside his hat, which, as I can swear, he had not touched. "'Tis naught," quoth he, when this was finished, and I was yet marvelling at his cleverness. "I have at least a score such tricks, far better. But now, to finish what I was a-telling. Two years lived I with those savages, and had wellnigh given up all hope of ever leaving them, when, on a certain blessed night, as I sat watching for the ship that never came, I saw a light far off upon the water. Soon I made out that it was coming nearer. I did not wait another moment, but creeping down on to the shore, took one of the canoes which always lay there, and paddled off with all my might. "The night was dark, the sea was smooth as glass, and so, with all things favouring me, it was not long before I drew near enough to hail the vessel. Heavens, friend, how I shouted, and how my voice rang out across the silent waters! At first they took no heed; but at length there came an answering shout, and then, to my exceeding joy, I knew by the change of lights that they were heaving to. Then did I speed again towards the ship and soon came up with her. Yet when at length I drew alongside, and lanterns made me plain to those aboard, they eyed me with ill-favour, and had some mind to keep me off. Nor do I wonder at it; for truly, friend, what with my streaming hair and beard, and garments made of beast skins, they must have looked upon me as both mad and dangerous. "But I was not to be denied, and so, notwithstanding that two years among the savages had mightily confused my English, I yet made shift to tell those wondering seamen swiftly of my sorry plight. Still they must needs fall to muttering among themselves ere they would hoist me to the deck; but this they did at last, and straightway fed and clothed me. This very suit of grey was given me by a gentleman aboard that ship--Heaven's blessing on him! True, 'tis a trifle large for one so thin, but 'tis of a fine good cloth, and serves me well. After a voyage of many months they brought me home, and so--well, here am I; and thus doth end a story true as holy gospel. Say, friend, what think you of it?" "Fine!" I answered warmly. "Why, man, 'twould make a book!" He gave a cracking laugh and said: "Nay, no writing books for me, friend; my skill lies not in that direction; nor, if it did, would I attempt such work. Rather would I clean forget the horrid business. But alack! I cannot, for ever and anon it comes upon me suddenly, even as it did just now when you rode up; and then I see naught, hear naught, save those black-skinned murderous knaves as they leapt about us on that awful night. Faith!" he added, rising quickly and passing a hand across his forehead, "let us talk of something else before the vision comes once more upon me. Say you that Lyme is but three miles from here?" "Well, to be quite exact, between that and four." "And know you much about the place?" "Just a little, seeing that I have been born and bred there." "Ah! say you so? Then, truly, you must know many people there?" "A few." "Didst ever come across one Gilbert Fane?" "Well, now," I answered, smiling, "'tis not unusual for one to come across one's father, is it?" At that the fellow gave a little start. "What!" says he. "Your father! He is alive, then?" "Aye, truly, that he is," I answered, laughing. "At least, he was an hour ago." "Well, well, now, just to think of it!" he murmured, rubbing his chin as though in deep perplexity. "Save us! 'tis strange, indeed!" "How so?" I asked. "Dost know my father?" "Nay, that I do not; but 'tis passing strange that I should meet his son upon this road and tell him what I have." "How so?" I asked again. "What mystery is this?" "'Tis no mystery, friend," he answered, looking out to sea, "but truly it is passing wonderful. Listen. I did not tell you that the man who gave me this grey suit fell sick, died, and was buried while we were still at sea. But so, alas! it was; and as I sat beside him when he lay a-raving in high fever, the name of Lyme was ever on his lips, together with the names of divers people, and one of these I swear was Gilbert Fane; for, although I took small notice at the time, your mention of it brings it clearly back to me. Now say, friend, is not all this strange beyond compare?" "It is, indeed," I murmured, looking at him fixedly, as he stood with half-closed eyes before me. "And what was this luckless fellow's name?" "Would that I could tell you; but I cannot. They picked him up at some outlandish place, and methinks 'twas that which made him treat me with such kindness; but when he died he left naught save his clothes, some knick-knacks, and a sword. There were no papers. The captain had his sword and clothes. One day as we sat a-talking he did let fall his name as if by accident; but then I took no heed, and so have clean forgotten it. Yet, if I heard it now, methinks I might remember it." "But say, what manner of man was he?" "A fine, upstanding fellow, with a ruddy face." "Ah, there are, and have been, many such in Lyme. But, look you, if you care to come with me to our house, The Havering, methinks my father might assist you." "Ah, many thanks, good friend, but 'twould be of no avail. I am but come to Lyme because he talked so much of it; and because I thought, by searching among the gravestones in your churchyard, I might perchance light on his name, and thus remember it. Aye, verily, I loved that man." "How long have you been in England?" "I came ashore three days ago at Bristol, and have been walking ever since." "You must be weary, then." "No; but I am wondrous poor. Look you, friend, I am so needy that for a groat I would climb this towering larch tree, and swing among the branches at the top." "Do it," said I, by way of proving him. Instantly he sprang upon the tree, and went up it like a monkey. And when he reached the top he leapt from branch to branch, whistling and swinging, till I felt certain he must miss his hold and come tumbling down. "Bravo! Well done!" I cried. "Come down for your reward." Down he came at a speed which fairly took my breath away, and then stood, cap in hand, before me, as calm as if he had never left his tussock. Bringing forth a handful of silver pieces (I never lacked for money) I picked a shilling out and gave it to him. "This is too much," quoth he, with shaking head; "and were not my necessity so great I would not take it." "Nay, 'tis well earned," I answered; "but may I ask a favour? The trick you showed me with the little balls--wilt do that again?" "With all my heart," says he; and forthwith did it; and many others, too, still more astonishing. "More work, more pay," said I, when he had finished. "Here is another shilling. And, look you, if you care to call at our house, The Havering--'tis a lonesome place a mile or so from Lyme, and well-beknown to all--if you choose to call, I say, you may be certain of a welcome. My father, I'll wager, would rejoice to see those tricks of yours. And that reminds me; you have my name, friend--prithee, what is yours?" "Well, 'tis a passing curious one," he answered, grinning like a skull. "Nay, worse than that, 'tis downright heathenish and wicked--Tubal Ammon--as black a name, I trow, as ever was." "Well, well," said I, consolingly, "you did not name yourself; and 'tis at least one easily remembered. So now, friend Ammon, here is a right good evening to you; and, as I said before, if you choose to call upon us at The Havering you may be certain of a right hearty welcome." With that I would have ridden off, but he touched my arm and said: "Stay! I would fain return such kindness by showing thee some very curious things. See," he added, bringing forth a little carven case, "here is a tiny bow and arrows. Toys, say you? and yet the veriest scratch from one of these fine points means death; for they are poisoned. Again, this amulet, the which I keep so thickly wrapped in cloth: behold how richly it is carved, how beautiful and innocent it looks; but wear it for an hour and you are dead, for, likewise, it is poisoned. And, yet again, this tiny wooden dart, scarce bigger than a tailor's needle; one prick from it means death--poisoned also. The wretches that I lived with use these things, and many more besides, for secret killing. Take them in your hands, good sir, I pray you. Your gloves will save all harm. Examine them and see how finely they are wrought." I did so; and was bending over them in gloating fashion when a gentle click aroused me, and, turning suddenly, I found the muzzle of a pistol close beside my head, with an evil, grinning face beyond it. "Good friend," said Tubal Ammon, "thou art rich and I am very needy. Give me all thou hast, and give it quickly." This was an ugly business, sure enough. I was unarmed, while a bullet with scarce a foot to travel could not fail to hit the mark. Yes; the pressure of a finger meant sure death, nor did I doubt the rascal's villainous intention, even if I gave him what he asked; for either he would shoot me as I got the money out or as I turned to ride away. My horse was just the very thing he wanted. Thus I argued swiftly with myself, and saw that to dissemble was my only hope. "Well, now," said I, looking straight along the pistol into his squinting face, "this is indeed a poor return for favours; still, advantage counts for everything, and needs must when the devil drives. So, if you will kindly lower your weapon, friend, for fear of accidents, I will oblige you." He fell into the trap. Down went the pistol, and, with a greedy look, he drew quite close. Next moment I had kicked him in the wind with all my might, and sent him flying backward to the ground. Then, as he lay there gasping, I threw his poisonous relics over him, and with a gay "Good morrow to you, Master Ammon!" galloped off. "A murderous footpad--nothing more or less," I muttered, as we dropped into a walk. "Well, 'tis a handsome warning not to ride again unarmed on byways, even on a summer's evening; and at least the rascal got a warning too." That was how I summed the matter up; but, as you will see hereafter, it had been greatly better for us all if Tubal Ammon had been lying dead upon the road behind me. CHAPTER I Concerning "A Certain Person" It was on the tenth day of June, in the year sixteen hundred and eighty-five (and three days after my first meeting with Tubal Ammon), when, as you know, King James the Second had scarce been three months on his quaking throne, that I, Michael Fane, of Lyme Regis, in the county of Dorset, fell headlong, as it were, and quite unwittingly, into such a pother of adventure, mystery, and trouble, as few men--let alone a youth, as I then was--may hope to come through with their lives. That, however, by a rare good fortune, having been my lot, I am minded, now in these peaceful days, when good King William rules us with a firm, wise hand, to set down, for all of you who care to read it, a full and true account of what befell me in those throbbing months of blood and warfare. To begin, then (as my old preceptor, Master Pencraft, used to put it), at the right end of the rope, I was summoned before breakfast on that bright June morning to my father's study, in our old house, The Havering, just outside the town, where we two lived together, my mother having died three years before. Now, although we were ever early risers at The Havering, I had never known my father require me to attend on him at such an hour (it being scarcely half-past six); but recollecting that I was eighteen that very day, the thought of some present being at the bottom of the matter added speed to the steps of filial duty as I hurried to the study. I found my father seated, quill in hand, very stiff and upright at his table, on which some papers were spread out before him; while at his elbow stood the hour-glass to which he still clung, because, as he said, the ticking of a clock disturbed his thoughts. The sunlight falling on his whitened hair and beard made them shine like silver; and I remember, too, that through the open window came the gladsome morning song of birds. In truth, there could scarce have been a sight which promised more of peace and less of violence. As I entered, my father looked up at me with those keen, deep-set eyes which could still flash fire for all their nearly seventy years of use. "Good morning to you, Michael!" said he. "Good morning to you, sir!" I answered, feeling some uneasiness, for the flickering smile with which he greeted me had scarcely touched his face before it vanished, leaving him grave and solemn as a judge; so that I stood there with my hand upon the door-latch, wondering swiftly which of my many sins had found me out. "Be seated, Michael," said my father, pointing with his pen-point to a chair in front of him; and down I sat, with some such qualms as I was used to have when paying those private visits to my schoolmaster which were wont to end in certain flagellation. For what seemed quite an age, my father sat there looking at me in a fixed, abstracted way which made me feel still more uncomfortable; then, having laid down his pen and turned the hour-glass, he leaned back in his chair with folded hands and said: "Michael, my son, you have passed another milestone on life's road; you are eighteen to-day--a man, in fact." Here he paused, as though expecting me to speak: but although his words had mightily relieved me, and made me feel a good inch taller, too, I could think of no answer for them; and so I only nodded--sat a little straighter in my chair, and wondered what was coming next. Perceiving this, he thus continued: "Yes, Michael, you are now old enough to play the man in right good earnest. 'Tis high time that you were up and doing in the world. For, mark you, I would not have a son of mine an idle, useless popinjay." "Nor would I choose the part," I put in bluntly. "Nay, I am sure you would not," rejoined my father proudly. "You come of a wrong stock for that. But, look you, you spoke of choosing parts; what part, what calling, would you choose if you were able?" "Fighting--soldiering, that is," I answered readily. A blazing, warlike gleam leapt suddenly into the old man's eyes, and as he sat bolt upright in his chair, and glanced with glowing pride at that well-tried sword of his which hung upon the wall, I thought I never saw so fine a man. "'Tis well and bravely said," he murmured. "Fighting--soldiering! A young man could not make a better choice than that. And, as you know, Michael, I speak from great experience. In the days of good King Charles the Martyr--God rest his soul!--I fought in nigh a dozen battles, counting skirmishes. And gladly would I fight again if I were able. Ah, yes! there is no finer work for any man than fighting for his king." "His king!" I echoed. "Must I then fight for James?" "Certes," replied my father with an astonished look. "For whom else would you fight, my son?" "I know not, but I hate King James," I blurted out. "He is a cruel man, a poltroon, and a----" "Hush!" broke in my father, raising a warning hand; and even as he spoke there came a sound like that of someone stirring stealthily among the shrubs outside the window. We both rose and looked out searchingly, but as there was nothing to be seen, sat down again. "What was it, think you?" I asked. "A cat, perhaps; or maybe the dog," replied my father. But I was far from satisfied; for I had distinctly heard that which, his hearing being somewhat hard, had escaped the old man's notice--to wit, what sounded like cautious, slinking footsteps. However, as the thing could not be proved, I let it pass. "You spake without due thought, son Michael," said my father gravely. "Such words as you just now used are as dangerous as wild. Kings must vary, even as mankind itself doth vary. There must be good and bad in everything; and sometimes 'tis the kingship that we fight for, not the man. And mark you, Michael, even a bad king were far better than no king at all--aye, a thousand times!" I felt far from sure of that, but my father was no man to argue with, especially upon one's birthday, so I did not press the matter. "But is there no other king that I can fight for?" I asked. "John Cornish went from Lyme here, as you know, into the Netherlands, fought for the Prince of Orange, and became a captain. Can I not do the same, sir?" My father frowned and stroked his beard, as was his wont when not well pleased. "That is fortune-soldiering," he answered gravely; "a thing I do not favour. For although it certainly hath bred good fighters, 'tis apt to lead to looseness--selling the sword, that is, for money to the highest bidder. Nay, Michael, I would not have my son do that. Fight for your king and country when the time comes, and let that suffice." "But how and where, then, shall I fight?" I asked. "Since Monmouth cut the Covenanters up at Bothwell Brig there hath been naught worth the name of fighting; and although 'tis said the Duke of Argyle is in Scotland with some followers, that will not touch us: he will soon be done for. Nay, sir, I see no chance of fighting here in England. All is peace." "Yes, but methinks it will not be so long, Michael," rejoined my father with a knowing look. "What mean you, sir?" I asked. "I mean," he answered, leaning forward with his arms upon the table and speaking in a whisper, "I mean that I have certain knowledge that at any moment bloody civil war may again break out among us." "How, sir, and what proof?" I cried, springing to my feet. "Sit down," replied my father quietly. Then, opening a drawer, he drew therefrom a letter. "Here is my proof," he said, unfolding it, "though certes it was not for me; I found it wedged inside a larger document which came by post last night. Thus it had been overlooked. I opened it unthinkingly, and, when I saw the nature of its contents, kept it; and that rightly, as it seems to me. Read it," he added, holding the paper out across the table. 'Twas addressed to a man well known to us; one who had fought with Blake when he held Lyme so stoutly against Prince Maurice in the Civil Wars. The writing was a poor scrawl enough, and hard to read in parts, but this is how it ran:-- "Dated from London, 8th June, 1685. "FRIEND, "These are to advise thee that honest Protestants forthwith prepare and make themselves very ready, for they have notice here at Court that a Certain Person will forthwith appear in the West, which puts them here at Court into a most dreadful fear and confusion; 'tis hoped, therefore, that all honest men who are true Protestants will stick together and make ready for the trumpet call of Freedom. Argyle have had great success in Scotland, and have already destroyed great part of the King's forces there; and we hear from good hands that he hath sure an army that doth increase so mightily daily that nothing can oppose them; and if they be once up in the West they would suddenly be up in all parts of England, all Protestants being certainly prepared and resolved rather to die than to live Slaves and Papists. Therefore make good use hereof, and impart it to such as you can trust, that you may all be prepared and ready against the appearance of a Certain Person, which will be forthwith if not already.
"This is a pretty riddle, sir," said I, laying down the letter. "Nay," quoth the old man, smiling at my puzzled look; "'tis plain as any horn-book. Who, think you, is the Certain Person named herein?" He touched the letter. "Nay, sir, I cannot tell," I answered. "Guess! The name begins with M." But as I knew several names beginning with that letter this information did not greatly help me; and though I was soon astonished that it had not done so, I could only shake my head and say: "I cannot guess." "Well, then, I will tell thee," said my father. "The Certain Person is none other than James, Duke of Monmouth." This time I sprang up so vehemently that over went my chair and I came near to following it. "What!" I cried. "Monmouth! That pretty fellow whom I saw five years ago at Colyton when he rode through the West so proudly, with thousands of fine gentlemen behind him?" "The very same," replied my father gravely. "But is he not an exile in the Netherlands?" I asked, amazed. "That is his portion," said my father, looking mighty stern. "Or, rather, was." "Then, what comes he here for?" "To stir up rank rebellion; to play the fine Pretender; in a word, to try and wrest the crown from him who rightly wears it, to wit, his uncle, our King James." "That being so," said I, drawing myself up very straight and feeling mightily important, "I fight for Monmouth." 'Twas now my father's turn to show amazement, the which he did by springing to his feet with such suddenness and anger that I fell back a step or two. "Stop!" he hissed across the table. "You know not what you say. Such words as those would hang a man if they were overheard. Wouldst fight for a usurper?" "They say he is the rightful heir," said I. "'They say'! Who say?" returned my father hotly. "Why, those who have a right to know," I answered glumly, for my pride was hurt. "Then know that 'they' say wrong," he scornfully rejoined. "This Monmouth hath no more title to the crown than you or I have." "But, sir, is he not the eldest son of Charles the Second?" "They have no proof who say so. Therefore I say again, he hath no claim, no title to the throne of England." This seemed a crushing answer right enough, and so for a moment I was silent. But I had read and heard--as no doubt you have also--of some mysterious written proof of Charles's marriage to one Lucy Walters, Monmouth's mother. 'Twas said to have been hidden in a black box somewhere, which, when the needful time arrived, was nowhere to be found; and even they who had professed to having seen the very document in question, roundly denied all knowledge of it when brought before the Council. To be quite honest, I had but small belief in it myself, but now, in my fallen pride, it served my purpose; so---- "What of the Black Box?" I said, looking as wise as any parrot. I had expected that my father's answer to this question would be short and sharp--indeed, perhaps nothing save a scornful laugh; but, to my great astonishment, he dropped back straight into his chair and stared at me like one possessed, while his breath came thick and fast, as though he had suffered some great shock. "What do you know of that?" he gasped at last. "Nothing, father," I answered carelessly by way of calming him, for knowing that he suffered from a weakness of the heart I was afraid lest harm should come to him. "Nothing, that is, beyond what others know. Indeed, I thought 'twas common knowledge." "Common knowledge!" echoed my father with a fearful start. "What do you mean?" "Why, the report that there is somewhere written proof of Charles's marriage. Is it not common knowledge? I remember hearing of it when I was a boy at school." "Yes, yes; but the box in which 'twas said to have been hidden! What do you know of that?" He put this question with a feverish eagerness and then gazed at me searchingly, if indeed not suspiciously. "Nothing," I answered firmly; "absolutely nothing." On hearing this my father heaved a sigh of deep relief, and for a space stared at me in a far-off, wondering manner, as though he were scarce certain of my presence; then, leaning slowly forward on the table, he said: "Michael, 'tis passing strange that you should be the first to mention that which I have brought you here to speak of, but, having done so, the need for a preamble is at least removed. Know, then, that the tale of the Black Box, albeit so bedecked and garnished with absurdities by the tongue of busy gossip, is not entirely fabulous. For, verily, that box exists. I have it here." When I heard this I was as one struck dumb. To think that in that quiet, book-lined chamber there lay a hidden secret which, as it seemed to me, might have the power to turn a kingdom upside down! I was aghast, and as I gazed in blank bewilderment about the room it was as though black boxes had usurped the very shelves and lurked in every corner. Thus for a moment I was speechless, then my eyes went slowly back to him from whom this most astounding news had come, and who now sat watching me intently. "You have it, sir!" I said in a voice that sounded strange and distant to my ears. "Where? How?" "That you shall know presently. All in good time," replied my father with a curious little smile, which I can see again distinctly as I write these words. "But, first of all, I ask your promise as a man and son that not a word of what I show and tell you shall pass your lips so long as I am living. When I am gone you may do as you choose, but until then this matter must be treated as a bounden secret sacred to us two, and to us alone. Have I your oath that this shall be so, Michael?" "You have," I answered. "Here is my hand upon it." Our hands met firm and solemnly across the table. Then my father rose, and taking down a picture of my mother which hung upon the wall, pressed with his fingers on the wainscoting beneath. Instantly a panelled door flew open, revealing a secret cupboard big enough to hold two men. After some groping in a bottom corner of this chamber, he discovered what he sought, and, returning to the table, laid thereon a little box of ebony, about eight inches square. |
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