A Secret Inheritance. Volume 1 of 3. Farjeon Benjamin Leopold

morning your poor husband passed away in peace. It would doubtless have been a satisfaction to him could he have spoken to us, and have imparted to us his last wishes, but he had not the power. Two or three times he seemed to make an effort, and we inclined our ears to hear what he had to say. No sound, however, proceeded from his lips; he had not the strength to utter a word. The effort over, he seemed to be resigned."

      The letter contained the expression of a sincere sympathy for our bereavement.

      "He died peacefully," said my mother. "All deaths are not so."

      "Madam!" cried Mrs. Fortress, in a warning tone.

      Did it spring from my fancy that my mother's remark was uttered in fear, and was intended to bear a personal reference, and that Mrs. Fortress's "Madam!" sounded like a threat? If it were or were not so, my mother quickly recovered herself.

      "It is good to know that your father did not suffer," she said.

      "Death is not a pleasant subject to talk about," observed Mrs. Fortress.

      "What has passed between my mother and myself is quite natural," I retorted; it appeared to me that her remark was unnecessary.

      "I beg your pardon," she said, but although her words conveyed an apology, her voice did not.

      Shortly afterwards my mother pleaded that she was tired, and I left the room.

      Upon the news of my father's death becoming known I had two visitors, the doctor who attended on my mother, and a lawyer. I may mention here that these were the only persons who, with myself, followed my father to the grave. The doctor's visit was one of condolence, and he indulged in the usual platitudes which, but for the occasion, I should not have listened to with patience. He bade me good day with a sigh, and called into his face an expression of dolour which I knew was assumed for my benefit.

      The lawyer's visit was upon business. He came to acquaint me with the particulars of my father's Will.

      "I have the rough draft in my office," he said; "the Will itself we shall doubtless find among your father's private papers. It was his habit, when he intended to be absent from home for any length of time, to leave the key of his safe in my keeping, I have brought it with me."

      We went together to my father's special room, the room in which he wrote and transacted his private business, and which was always kept locked. No person, unbidden, was allowed to enter it but himself. Although I had now been living at Rosemullion for many years I had been but once in this apartment, and then I took no particular notice of it. The key of the room had been found in his portmanteau, which he had taken with him to Wales, and had been delivered up to me with his other effects.

      It was plainly furnished. There were two chairs, a couch, and a writing-table-nothing more; not a picture, not an ornament, not a single evidence of luxury. The walls were hung with old tapestry on which battle scenes were worked.

      "Rosemullion is not a modern building," said the lawyer, "but perhaps you are already familiar with its history, being a student."

      I said, In reply, that I was not aware that Rosemullion was of ancient origin, nor that it had a history.

      "Did your father never speak to you on the subject?" asked the lawyer.

      "Never," I replied.

      "Perhaps it was not of much interest to him," remarked the lawyer. "The house belonged to a great family once, who owned vast tracts of land hereabout. They ruled here for many generations, I believe, until, as is the case with numberless others who carried it with a high hand in times gone by, they lost their place in the world. If the truth were known we should learn-to judge from my experiences, and supposing them to be worth anything-that there was but one cause why they were wiped out. Spendthrift father, spendthrift heir, followed by another, and perhaps by another; land parted with piecemeal, mortgaged and sold, till heirlooms and stone-walls are called upon, and the wreck is complete. It is an old story, and is being played out now by many inheritors of ancient names."

      "The chairs and couch in the room," I said, "are modern. Not so the writing-table."

      It was made of stout oak, and bore signs of long service. Its massive legs were wonderfully carved, and were fixed deep in the oaken flooring. The lawyer's remarks had given the place an interest in my eyes, and I gazed around with lively curiosity.

      "If these walls could speak," I said, "they would be able to tell strange stories."

      "Many of which," said the lawyer, with a dry cough, "are better unrevealed. It is quite as well that dumb memorials cannot rise in witness against us."

      "So that we are no better off than our forefathers."

      "And no worse," said the lawyer, sententiously. "We are much of a muchness, ancients and moderns. I had no idea till to-day how solid these walls really were."

      They were, indeed, of massive thickness, fit depositories of mighty secrets. I lifted the tapestry to examine them, and observed a steel plate fixed in the portion I had bared. I was searching in vain for a keyhole when the lawyer said,

      "The safe your father used is not on that side; it is here to the right. On three sides of the wall you will see these steel plates fixed, and my idea is that the receptacles were used as a hiding-place for jewels and other treasure. In the building of this room special ingenuity was displayed. No one unacquainted with the secret could open the metal doors, the design is so cunning. There were locksmiths before Brahmah. I would defy any but an expert to discover the means, and it would puzzle him for a time."

      "They are really doors?"

      "Yes; you shall see for yourself."

      "How did you discover the secret?" I asked.

      "Your father let me into it," he replied.

      "How did he discover it? Before he bought this little estate I doubt if he had ever heard the name of Rosemullion, or knew of its existence."

      "That is very probable, but I cannot enlighten you upon the point. In his conversations with me he never referred to it. It is not unlikely that the agents through whom he purchased the place may have known; or he may have found a clue to it after he came into possession. That, however, is mere speculation, and is not material to us. What is material is the Will. Observe. Here before us is a sheet of steel, covered with numberless small knobs with shining round surfaces. There must be some peculiarity about the metal that it does not rust; or perhaps its lustre is due to the dryness of the air. When I say that the knobs are numberless I am inexact. They may be easily counted; they are in regular lines, and are alternately placed. From ceiling to floor there are twenty lines, and each line contains twenty knobs-four hundred in all. If you pressed every one of these four hundred knobs one after another with your thumb, you would find only one that would yield beneath the pressure. That knob is in the bottom line, at the extreme left hand corner. Kneel, and press with your thumb, and you will find that I am right."

      I followed his instructions. I knelt, and pressed the knob; it yielded, and upon my removing my thumb, it returned to its former position.

      "Still," I said, as I rose from my kneeling posture, "I see no hole in which a key can be inserted."

      "Wait," said the lawyer. "By pressing on that knob you have unlocked a second at the extreme end of the right corner in the same line. Press it as you did the other."

      I knelt and obeyed; it yielded as the other had done, and returned to its former position. But there was no apparent change in the steel door.

      "You have unlocked a third knob," said the lawyer. "You will now have to stand upon one of the chairs; place it here, on the right, and press again on the knob at the extreme right hand. It yields. One more, and the charm is nearly complete. Remove the chair to the left, and repeat the operation on the topmost knob at the extreme left hand. Now descend. Supposing this to be the door of a room, where would the keyhole be situated? Yes, you point to the exact spot. Press there, then, gently. What do we see? The keyhole revealed. The rest is easy."

      He inserted the key and turned the lock. Massive as was the door, there was no difficulty now in opening it. With very little exertion on our part it swung upon its hinges. I could not but admire the ingenuity of the device, and I