A Secret Inheritance. B. L. Farjeon

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 wondered at the same time how my father could have found it out, supposing the secret not to have been imparted to him.

      There was a space disclosed of some two feet in depth, divided by stout oaken shelves. On one of the shelves was a cash-box. There was nothing else within the space. The lawyer took out the cash-box, and brought it to the table. It was unlocked, and the lawyer drew from it my father's Will. I was disappointed that it contained no other papers. I cannot say what I expected to discover, but I had a vague hope that I might light upon some explanation of the mystery which had reigned in our home from my earliest remembrance. However, I made no remark on the subject to the lawyer.

      The Will was read in my mother's presence, the only other person in attendance, besides my mother, the lawyer, and myself, being Mrs. Fortress. It was very simple; the entire property was bequeathed to my mother; during her lifetime I was to reside at Rosemullion, and there was otherwise no provision made for me; but at her death, with the exception of a legacy to Mrs. Fortress, "for faithful and confidential service," I became sole heir. The only stipulation was that Rosemullion should not be sold.

      "I hope, Gabriel," said my mother, "that you are not dissatisfied."

      I replied that I was contented with the disposition my father had made of his property.

      "You can have what money you want," she said.

      "I shall want very little," I said.

      "You will remain here, Gabriel?"

      These words which, in her expression of them, were both a question and an entreaty, opened up a new train of thought. I set it aside a while, and said to my mother,

      "Is it your wish?"

      "Yes, Gabriel, while I live."

      "I will obey you, mother."

      "Gabriel," she said, "bend your head." Mrs. Fortress came forward as if with the intention of interposing, but I motioned her away, and she retired in silence, but kept her eyes fixed upon us. "You bear no ill-will towards me?" my mother whispered. "You do not hate me?"

      "No, mother," I replied, in a tone as low as her own. "What cause have I for ill-will or hatred? It would be monstrous."

      "Yes," she muttered, "it would be monstrous, monstrous!"

      And she turned from me, and lay with her face to the wall. Her form was shaken with sobs.

      Mrs. Fortress beckoned to me and I followed her to the door.

      "I will speak to you outside," she said.

      We stood in the passage, the door of my mother's bedroom being closed upon us. The lawyer, who had also left the room, stood a few paces from us.

      "It comes within my sphere of duty," said Mrs. Fortress, "to warn you that these scenes are dangerous to your mother. Listen."

      I heard my mother crying and speaking loudly to herself, but I could not distinguish what she said.

      "Remain here a moment," said Mrs. Fortress; "I have something more to say to you."

      She left me, and entered the bedroom, and in a short time my mother was quiet. Mrs. Fortress returned.

      "She is more composed."

      "You have a great power over her, Mrs. Fortress."

      "No one else understands her." She held in her hand a letter, which she offered to me. "It was entrusted to me by your father, and I was to give it to you in the event of his dying away from Rosemullion, and before your mother. Perhaps you will read it here."

      I did so. It was addressed to me, and was very brief, its contents being simply to the effect that Mrs. Fortress was to hold, during my mother's lifetime, the position she had always held in the household, and that I was, under no consideration, to interfere with her in the exercise of her duties.