CHAPTER XVII
INVESTIGATIONS
Two persons were waiting for Roland's return; one in anguish,
the other with impatience. These two persons were Amélie and Sir
John. Neither of them had slept for an instant. Amélie displayed
her anguish only by the sound of her door, which was furtively
closed as Roland came up the staircase. Roland heard the sound.
He had not the courage to pass before her door without reassuring
her.
"Be easy, Amélie, I am here," he said. It did not occur to him
that his sister might be anxious for any one but him.
Amélie darted from her room in her night-dress. It was easy to
see from her pallor and the dark circles which spread nearly to
the middle of her cheeks that she had not closed her eyes all
night.
"Has nothing happened to you, Roland?" she cried, clasping her
brother in her arms and feeling him over anxiously.
"Nothing."
"Nor to any one else?"
"No."
"And you saw nothing?"
"I didn't say that," answered Roland.
"Good God! What did you see?"
"I'll tell that to you later. Meantime, there is no one either
killed or wounded."
"Ah! I breathe again!"
"Now, let me give you a bit of advice, little sister. Go to bed
and sleep, if you can, till breakfast. I am going to do the same
thing, and can assure yon I won't need any rocking. Good-night,
or rather good-morning."
Roland kissed his sister tenderly. Then affecting to whistle a
hunting-air carelessly, he ran up the next flight of steps. Sir
John was frankly waiting for him in the hall. He went straight
to the young man.
"Well?" he asked.
"Well, I didn't roll my stone entirely for nothing."
"Did you see any ghosts?"
"At any rate I saw something that resembled one very closely."
"Come, tell me all about it."
"I see you won't be able to sleep, or at best only fitfully, if
I don't. Here's what happened, in a nutshell."
And Roland gave him a minute account of the night's adventure.
"Excellent," said Sir John, when Roland had finished. "I hope
you have left something for me to do."
"I am even afraid," answered Roland, "that I have left you the
hardest part."
Then, as Sir John went over each detail, asking many questions
about the localities, he said:
"Listen, Sir John. We will pay the Chartreuse a visit in broad
daylight after breakfast, which will not interfere in the least
with your night-watch. On the contrary, it will acquaint you
with the localities. Only you must tell no one."
"Oh!" exclaimed Sir John, "do I look like a gabbler?"
"No, that's true," cried Roland laughing, "you are not a gabbler,
but I am a ninny." So saying, he entered his bedchamber.
After breakfast the two young men sauntered down the slopes of
the garden, as if to take a walk along the banks of the Reissouse.
Then they bore to the left, swung up the hill for about forty
paces, struck into the highroad, and crossed the woods, till
they reached the convent wall at the very place where Roland had
climbed over it on the preceding night.
"My lord," said Roland, "this is the way."
"Very well," replied Sir John, "let us take it."
Slowly, with a wonderful strength of wrist, which betokened a
man well trained in gymnastics, the Englishman seized the coping
of the wall, swung himself to the top, and dropped down on the
other side. Roland followed with the rapidity of one who is not
achieving a feat for the first time. They were both on the other
side, where the desertion and desolation were more visible by
night than by day. The grass was growing knee high in the paths;
the espaliers were tangled with vines so thick that the grapes
could not ripen in the shadow of the leaves. The wall had given
way in several places, and ivy, the parasite rather than the
friend of ruins, was spreading everywhere.
As for the trees in the open space, plums, peaches and apricots,
they had grown with the freedom of the oaks and beeches in the
forest, whose breadth and thickness they seemed to envy. The
sap, completely absorbed by the branches which were many and
vigorous, produced but little fruit, and that imperfect. By the
rustle of the tall grass, Sir John and Roland divined that the
lizards, those crawling offsprings of solitude, had established
their domicile there, from which they fled in amazement at this
disturbance.
Roland led his friend straight to the door between the orchard
and the cloister, but before entering he glanced at the clock.
That clock, which went at night, was stopped in the day time.
From the cloister he passed into the refectory. There the daylight
showed under their true aspect the various objects which the
darkness had clothed with such fantastic forms the night before.
Roland showed Sir John the overturned stools, the table marked
by the blow of the pistol, the door by which the phantom had
entered. Accompanied by the Englishman, he followed the path he
had taken in pursuit of the spectre. He recognized the obstacles
which had hindered him, and noted how easily one who knew the
locality might cross or avoid them.
At the spot where he had fired, he found the wad, but he looked
in vain for the bullet. The arrangement of the passage, which
ran slanting, made it impossible for the bullet, if its marks
were not on the walls, to have missed the ghost. And yet if the
ghost were hit, supposing it to be a solid body, how came it to
remain erect? How had it escaped being wounded, and if wounded,
why were there no bloodstains on the ground? And there was no
trace of either blood or ball.
Sir John was almost ready to admit that his friend had had to
do with a veritable ghost.
"Some one came after me," said Roland, "and picked up the ball."
"But if you fired at a man, why didn't the ball go into him?"
"Oh! that's easily explained. The man wore a coat of mail under
his shroud."
That was possible, but, nevertheless, Sir John shook his head
dubiously. He preferred to believe in a supernatural occurrence;
it gave him less trouble.
Roland and he continued their investigations. They reached the
end of the passage which opened on the furthest extremity of
the orchard. It was there that Roland had seen his spectre for
an instant as it glided into the dark vault. He made for the
cistern, and so little did he hesitate that he might still have
been following the ghost. There he understood how the darkness
of the night had seemed to deepen by the absence of all exterior
reflection. It was even difficult to see there by day.
Roland took two torches about a foot long from beneath his cloak,
took a flint, lighted the tinder, and a match from the tinder.
Both torches flared up.
The problem was now to discover the way by which the ghost had
disappeared. Roland and Sir John lowered their torches and examined
the ground. The cistern was paved with large squares of limestone,
which seemed to fit perfectly. Roland looked for his second ball
as persistently as for the first. A stone lay loose at his feet,
and, pushing it aside, he disclosed an iron ring screwed into
one of the limestone blocks.
Without a word Roland seized the ring, braced his feet and pulled.
The square turned on its pivot with an ease which proved that it
was frequently subjected to the same manipulation. As it turned,
it disclosed a subterranean passage.
"Ah!" exclaimed Roland, "this is the way my spectre went."
He entered the yawning cavern, followed by Sir John. They traversed
the same path that Morgan took when he returned to give an account
of his expedition. At the end of the passage they came upon an
iron gate opening into the mortuary vaults. Roland shook the
gate, which yielded to his touch. They crossed this subterranean
cemetery, and came to a second gate; like the first, it was open.
With Roland still in front, they went up several steps, and found
themselves in the choir of the chapel, where the scene we have
related between Morgan and the Company of Jehu took place. Only
now the stalls were empty, the choir was deserted, and the altar,
degraded by the abandonment of worship, was no longer covered
by the burning tapers or the sacred cloth.
It was evident to Roland that this was the goal of the false
ghost, which Sir John persisted in believing a real one. But,
real or false, Sir John admitted that its flight had brought it
to this particular spot. He reflected a moment and then remarked:
"As it is my turn to watch tonight, I have the right to choose
my ground; I shall watch here."
And he pointed to a sort of table formed in the centre of the
choir by an oaken pedestal which had formerly supported the eagle
lectern.
"Indeed," said Roland, with the same heedlessness he showed in
his own affairs, "you'll do very well there, only as you may find
the gates locked and the stone fastened tonight, we had better
look for some more direct way to get here."
In less than five minutes they had found an outlet. The door of
the old sacristy opened into the choir, and from the sacristy a
broken window gave passage into the forest. The two men climbed
through the window and found themselves in the forest thicket
some twenty feet from the spot where they had killed the boar.
"That's what we want," said Roland; "only, my dear Sir John,
as you would never find your way by night in a forest which,
even by day, is so impenetrable, I shall accompany you as far
as this."
"Very well. But once I am inside, you are to leave me," said the
Englishman. "I remember what you told me about the susceptibility
of ghosts. If they know you are near, they may hesitate to appear,
and as you have seen one, I insist on seeing at least one myself."
"I'll leave you, don't be afraid," replied Roland, adding, with
a laugh, "Only I do fear one thing."
"What is that?"
"That in your double capacity of an Englishman and a heretic they
won't feel at ease with you."
"Oh," replied Sir John, gravely, "what a pity I shall not have
time to abjure before this evening."
The two friends, having seen all there was to see, returned to
the chateau. No one, not even Amélie, had suspected that their walk
was other than an ordinary one. The day passed without questions
and without apparent anxiety; besides, it was already late when
the two gentlemen returned.
At dinner, to Edouard's great delight, another hunt was proposed,
and it furnished a topic for conversation during dinner and part
of the evening. By ten o'clock, as usual, all had retired to
their rooms, except Roland, who was in that of Sir John.
The difference of character showed itself markedly in the
preparations of the two men. Roland had made them joyously, as
if for a pleasure trip; Sir John made his gravely, as if for a
duel. He loaded his pistols with the utmost care and put them
into his belt English fashion. And, instead of a cloak, which
might have impeded his movements, he wore a top-coat with a high
collar put on over his other coat.
At half-past ten the pair left the house with the same precautions
that Roland had observed when alone. It was five minutes before
eleven when they reached the broken window, where the fallen
stones served as a stepping-block. There, according to agreement,
they were to part. Sir John, reminded Roland of this agreement.
"Yes," said Roland, "an agreement is an agreement with me. Only,
let me give you a piece of advice."
"What is it?"
"I could not find the bullets because some one had been here
and carried them off; and that was done beyond doubt to prevent
me from seeing the dents on them."
"What sort of dent do you mean?"
"Those of the links of a coat of mail; my ghost was a man in armor."
"That's too bad!" said Sir John; "I hoped for a ghost." Then,
after a moment's silence and a sigh expressive of his deep regret
in resigning the ghost, he asked: "What was your advice?"
"Fire at his face!"
Sir John nodded assent, pressed the young officer's hand, clambered
through the window and disappeared in the sacristy.
"Good-night!" called Roland after him. Then with the indifference
to danger which a soldier generally feels for himself and his
companions, Roland took his way back to the Château des
Noires-Fontaines, as he had promised Sir John.
