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<h3>Chapter Fifteen.</h3> <h4>In the Dark.</h4> “Look here, Kate, I’m not going back till I’ve had a good try here to see if something can’t be made out of this affair.” Katrine D’Enghien sat in the drawing-room of the Dark House, with her eyes half closed, as if listening to the ballad Lydia was singing in a low tone in the corner of the back room, while Capel stood by turning over the leaves. The old lawyer was in another corner at a card-table, on whose green surface lay a heap of papers and parchments, one of which he took up from time to time, and laid down, after examining it by the light of the shaded lamp. “You said only yesterday that you were sick of this domestic cemetery,” said Katrine. “So I am, for it’s doleful enough for anything here, only it makes me mad to see such a wealth of art treasures and plate belonging to this fellow Capel.” “Then it is very evident that you did not filch the old man’s treasure,” said Katrine. “Yes, my dear, very evident. If I had, I should not be here.” “Unless you thought it better for the sake of throwing people off the scent,” said Katrine, with a peculiar look in his face. “I say,” he cried, returning the gaze, “what do you mean? You don’t think I killed those two fellows, and got the plunder, do you?” “I don’t know,” she replied. “Well, then, I didn’t. I never had the chance.” “Or the brains to conceive such a coup.” “Look here,” cried Artis. “Don’t speak so loud, Gerard.” “Oh, very well. But look here, Madam Clever, did you manage that bit of business?” Katrine raised her soft, white hands. “Don’t do that,” said the young man. “You make me want to kiss them.” “You would not be so foolish, now.” “I don’t know. And look here, I don’t like you being so thick with Capel.” “Don’t you? He wants to marry me.” “I’ll break his neck first.” “You will act sensibly and well, mon cher,” said Katrine, “that is, if you mean that we are to be married by-and-by.” “Mean it? Of course.” “But not on a fortune of one hundred pounds each, mon cher.” “Good Heavens! No.” “Then hold your tongue, and say nothing.” “But I shall say something, if I see you working up a flirtation with that cad.” “You will say nothing, do nothing, see nothing. We cannot marry and starve.” “But tell me, Kate—honour bright—you don’t care for this Capel?” “I care for him!” “Tell me, then, what do you mean to do?” “Have my share of that money,” said Katrine, with a peculiar hardening of her face. “Bah! I don’t believe the treasure ever existed. It was a craze on the old man’s part.” “You must be careful. Don’t say or do anything to annoy Paul Capel or Mr Girtle. We must stay here. It was no craze on the old man’s part; maybe I can tell where the fortune is.” “What? You mean that?” “Hush! I am working for us both.” “But tell me—” “Hush! She has finished the song,” said Katrine, leaning back and clapping her hands softly. “Thank you, thank you,” she said. “Oh, what a while it is since I heard that dear old ballad.” The evening wore away till bed-time, when the butler brought in and lit the candles, according to his custom, Katrine and Lydia taking theirs, and going at once, and Gerard Artis following after partaking of a glass of soda-water, leaving the old lawyer and Capel together. They sat in silence for some minutes, when the old lawyer said: “I do not seem to get any nearer to the unravelling of this knot, Mr Capel.” “Do you still adhere to the opinion that the treasure was there?” “Yes; and we shall find it soon.” “By a masterly inactivity?” “Oh, no,” replied the old man, “for I am taking steps of my own to redeem myself. I don’t think those jewels can be sold, or one of those notes changed, without word being brought to me.” Capel felt won by the old man’s manner. He shook hands with him warmly, and said “Good-night.” He went to the door with him, and saw the light shine on the thin, silvery hair as he went slowly up the staircase, while his candle cast a grotesque shadow on the wall. Then, as Capel listened, he heard the old man shut his chamber door, open it softly, and shut it again more loudly; while, with the great house seeming to be doubly steeped in darkness and silence, Paul Capel went back to the lounge in which he had been seated, leaving his chamber candle burning like a tiny star in the great sea of gloom, and sat back, thinking. The candle burned lower as he thought on, ransacking his memory for some slight clue that would help him to find his lost fortune. The candle went out. Had he been asleep? He could not say. He believed that he had been only thinking deeply. At all events, he was widely awake now, as he sat back listening to the heavy beating of his own heart, as he stared through the intense darkness towards the door, upon whose panel he had felt sure he had heard a soft pat, as if something had touched it. A minute—it might have been half-an-hour, it seemed so long—and there was a faint rustling, and Paul Capel knew, as he stared through that intense darkness, that some one, or something, was coming silently towards where he sat. <hr /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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