THE LIGHT IN THE WOOD

After dinner I left Von Lindheim, who was tired with his long ride after a sleepless night, and set out from the inn for a closer inspection of the Monastery. It was a good night for my purpose, being bright and obscure at intervals as great banks of drifting clouds passed over the moon. I soon arrived at the gate, which did not stop me this time. I went through and began to make my way more circumspectly on the private grounds through the thick belt of wood which encircled the moat. To the water’s edge was but some two hundred paces, and coincident with my reaching it, the moon shone forth and gave me, like the withdrawing of a veil, a perfect view of the house and its surroundings. They were romantic enough. Imagine a grey, rambling pile with all the characteristics of mediÆval fortified domestic architecture, toned by an ecclesiastical suggestion over all, standing insulated in the middle of a broad belt of water, surrounded again by wood growing down to its margin, and which, on two sides, after falling back for a short distance on almost level ground, rose abruptly to a considerable height, making a dark background opposite to where I stood.

Such was my general view of the place; I now proceeded to make a more detailed and practical observation. Keeping just within the obscurity of the trees I began to make my way round the moat, principally to ascertain the difficulties of approach to the building. They soon showed themselves to be formidable enough. There was in fact only one legitimate way of entry, by a drawbridge, to meet which a pier ran out half-way across the wide moat. This drawbridge, which was pulled up, was worked from a massive square tower with portcullis gate, the usual gate-house tower of fortified buildings. Not much chance of getting over there, so I went on to see what facilities the other side might present. There were none. The band of water became no narrower as I had rather hoped, and as far as I could see (for the deep shadows made accurate observation impossible) the main portion of the building rose sheer from the water. I was rather surprised at this, for I had imagined that in modern times the motive of convenience would have led to the construction of a second means of access. But there was none, and I told myself that the only way of reaching the other side unobserved would be to swim for it. A prison indeed, I thought, for that poor girl, and a secure place of execution. The idea spurred me to leave no attempt at rescue untried; accordingly, I went round the edge of the moat, searching vainly for some indication as to the most likely place where I might swim over and discover her prison. It seemed almost hopeless. Was she, indeed, still alive? She and her captors would have arrived some time that morning, and much might have happened since then. Were they here after all? The journey to the Geierthal might have been a feint. No. I argued it out, and came to the conclusion that it was genuine enough. And what better prison or death-place could these authorized murderers have desired than this? The whole affair was a hideous puzzle to me; still, I was resolved to do what I could to rescue the girl. So I determined I would lose no more time in futile speculations but would swim the moat and set to work to find her.

Now a strange thing came to my notice. I had begun to throw off my outer clothing preparatory to slipping into the water, and was stooping down on one knee unlacing my boots, when my eye came in line with a faint glimmer of light. My face was towards the wood, turned away for the time from the building, and this light, seen through the trees when I struck a particular line of vision, and lost again when I moved out of it, seemed to be some little distance, a hundred paces, perhaps, within the wood and close to the ground. I watched it for a while, and being quite unable to account for it, quietly put on my clothes again and crept warily towards the place for a closer inspection. Betokening, as seemed probable, the presence of persons in the wood, I was rather startled to find how near I had come to being discovered.

As I got closer, with fewer trees to intercept my view of the light, it puzzled me more than ever. For it appeared to rise from the earth and irradiate feebly the gaunt trunks of the surrounding trees. For a moment my mind went back to the fairy tales of the land, but any such fanciful suggestion was dispelled by a movement at the spot whence the glow proceeded. The light was intercepted for an instant by something which passed over it. An object rose from the ground, as though it were thrown up. This action was now repeated in fairly quick succession, and I could make a shrewd guess at the explanation. I crept nearer, the thick carpet of pine needles deadening my footsteps. When I had advanced as close as I dared I slipped behind a tree and watched for what next would happen. I could see quite clearly now what was before hidden by the shadow cast where the light did not reach. Earth was being thrown up. Presently there was a pause in this operation, two objects appeared above the surface about three feet apart. The hands of a man in the act of stretching himself. Some one was there digging. What? A grave? The conjecture gave me a thrill. I felt sure now of poor Asta von Winterstein’s fate, and this, merciful Providence! this unholy work was for her last resting-place. While her parents were vainly and sorrowfully searching for her body in the river fifty miles away, she had been quietly brought to this house of death and——. I was roused from my thoughts, maddening in the very sense of helplessness to avert the tragedy, by a movement of the light. An old-fashioned lantern whence it came was now raised and set upon the edge of the hole, out of which scrambled afterwards the figure of a man, thick set and so short as to be almost a dwarf. He looked round as though expecting somebody; then taking a pipe from his pocket he lit it from the lantern and sat down to smoke. His action convinced me that he was waiting for some one, perhaps—I shuddered—the bearers of the body to be buried there, and this gave me warning to be on my guard. Nevertheless, I was determined to see the affair out; indeed, had I wished, I could hardly have retreated now without attracting the man’s notice. I had not long to wait. Behind me from the direction of the moat came a peculiar noise, indefinable, yet denoting an approaching presence. The man knocked out his pipe and set himself to rake together a heap of pine needles. I crouched down as close as I could get to the bole of the tree which hid me. A man came along slowly, passing me at a distance of about ten paces. He was half-dragging, half carrying some heavy object, which in the darkness I could not make out, and which I feared to see. As he passed between me and the light I could stand up and get a better view. The man was dressed in a long hooded over-garment like a monk’s cassock, and to my relief I saw that what he was carrying was merely a large hurdle. The other man came forward to meet him, and between them they laid the hurdle across the hole. Then they went off towards the moat, leaving the light, which was lucky, as had they carried it with them they might have seen me. As it was, the darkness was so impenetrable that I had little fear of detection if only they did not actually run against me.

In a few minutes they returned bearing two more hurdles. These also they placed across the grave, if such it were, so that, as I judged, it was completely covered over. Then the second man threw off his long cassock, and they both began to shovel earth upon the hurdles, and over that they carefully spread a layer of pine needles. Their faces, so far as the dim light allowed me to make them out, were villainous to a degree, but perhaps their surroundings, their occupation, and my own frame of mind did them less than justice. Anyhow, they were singularly repulsive.

When their work of concealment was finished, each put on his cassock, drawing the hood over his head, then they took up the lantern, the spades and mattock, and returned towards the moat.

So, I thought, the grave is ready, but it is not to be occupied to-night. In anticipation of their passing with the light I had retreated to a spot more removed from their path. When they were at a safe distance I began cautiously to follow them, which was rendered easy by the light, which told me of their whereabouts. When once they emerged from the wood to the water’s edge I could see them clearly against the moonlight. They had put out the lantern, and from a clump of bushes proceeded to unmoor a boat. Then, getting in, these unholy familiars pulled across the moat, landed at what seemed some steps by a small postern, made the boat fast in such a way that it lay hidden behind the steps, and silently disappeared through the door, which closed upon them.

Here, then, was my point of reconnaissance; not a very promising one, it is true, but worth trying. The door was well contrived, for, in the shadow cast by a buttress, both it and its approach were secure from observation. Keenly as I had examined the wall, they had quite escaped my notice. From what I had seen I felt pretty certain that the grave in the wood was not to be visited again that night. So, after waiting a short while, I put into practice my interrupted plan of swimming across the moat for a closer examination. The water was fairly warm, and some twenty strokes landed me at the steps, which, as I had supposed, were formed on the outside of a small stone arch, the inside of which formed a boat-house. I crept up the steps and tried the door; it was fast closed, and an examination of it convinced me that an entrance that way was practically impossible unless I should chance to find it left open. Satisfied of this, I next untied the boat, got in, and began a tour round the building, working myself warily along the wall, which rose sheer from the water. My search for any indication of the poor girl’s prison was fruitless. The few barred windows I passed were dark and all silent within, neither in any part of the building could I see any sign of life. Presently, I came to the end of the wall, to a spot where I could land and examine the place from the other side. Very cautiously I made the boat fast and got out. Keeping well in the shadow of the walls I crept round the front of the Monastery. To my surprise all was dark on this side too; not a glimmer at any of the windows; the whole as silent as a ruin. Search as I would, nothing could be seen that gave me the least hope of accomplishing my purpose. So at length my shivering limbs and the obvious futility of further effort told me I must abandon my effort at any rate for that night. It was saddening to think that perhaps even that moment the vile deed might be in course of perpetration, but what could I do with absolutely nothing to guide me? So, after a final scrutiny, I got back into the boat, returned the way that I had come, left it in its place, swam back huddled on my clothes, and ran at a swinging pace home to the inn by way of restoring my circulation.