Cruel as the grave
answered the more thoughtful husband.
"A domestic misunderstanding! O, dear Lyon, that such things should be!
Fancy you and I having a misunderstanding!" exclaimed Sybil, with a
shiver.
"I cannot fancy anything of the sort, my darling; Heaven forbid that I
could!" said Lyon, fervently.
"Amen to that! But listen! Ah! how she weeps and wails! Oh, Lyon, how I
pity her! Oh, how I wish I could do something for her! Oh, Lyon, are you
sure it would be improper for me to go and see if I can relieve her in
any way?" pleaded Sybil.
"Quite sure, my darling; I am quite sure that you must not interfere, at
least at this stage. If this should be a case in which we can be of
service, we shall be likely to know it when the waiter answers the bell
that I rung some five minutes since," said Lyon, soothingly.
But Sybil could not rest with the sound of that weeping and wailing in
her ears. She left her chair and began to walk up and down the floor,
and to pause occasionally at her door to listen.
Suddenly a door on the opposite side of the passage opened, and the
voice of the landlord was heard, apparently speaking to the weeping
woman.
"I beg you won't distress yourself, ma'am; I am sure I wouldn't do
anything to distress you for the world. Keep up your spirits, ma'am.
Something may turn up yet, you know," he said as he closed the opposite
door again; and then crossing the passage, he knocked at the door of the
Berners' apartments.
"Come in," said Lyon Berners eagerly, while Sybil paused in her restless
walk and gazed breathlessly at the door.
Both were so interested, they could not have told why, in that weeping
woman.
The landlord entered and closed the door behind him, and advanced with a
bow and an apology.
"I am afraid that you and your good lady have been disturbed by the
noise in the other room; but really I could not help it. I have done all
I could to comfort the poor creature; but really you know, 'Rachel
weeping for her children' was nothing to this woman. She's been going on
in this way for the last three days, sir. I did hope she would be quiet
this evening. I told her that I had guests in these rooms. But, Lord,
sir! I might just as well try to reason with a thunderstorm as with her.
I wish I had quieter rooms to put you in, sir."
"Pray do not think of us. It is not the disturbance we mind on our own
account; it is to hear a fellow creature in so much distress. A guest of
the house?" inquired Mr. Berners.
"Yes, sir; worse luck."
"She has lost friends or--fortune?" continued Berners delicately
investigating the case, while Sybil looked and listened with the deepest
interest.
"Both, sir! Both, sir! All, sir! Everything, sir! It is really a case of
atrocious villainy, sir! And I may say, a case of extreme difficulty as
well! A case in which I need counsel myself, sir," said the landlord,
with every appearance of being as willing to give information as to take
advice.
CHAPTER V.
THE LANDLORD'S STORY.
"What wit so sharp is found in youth or age
That can distinguish truth from treachery?
Falsehood puts on the face of simple truth,
And masks i' th' habit of plain honesty,
When she in heart intends most villany."
"Sit down, Mr. Judson; sit down, and tell us all about this matter; and
if we can aid either you or your distressed lodger in any way, we shall
be glad to do so," said Mr. Berners, earnestly.
"Yes, indeed," added Sybil, throwing herself down in her easy-chair,
with a deep breath of relief and anticipation.
"Well, sir, and madam," commenced the landlord, frankly accepting the
offered seat, "the case is this: About ten days ago there arrived in
this city, by the ship Banshee, from Cork, a lady, gentleman, and child,
with two servants, who came directly to this house. The gentleman
registered his party as Mr. and Mrs. Horace Blondelle, child, nurse, and
valet, and he engaged the very best rooms in the house--the rooms
corresponding to these on the opposite side of the passage, you know,
madam."
"Yes," assented Mrs. Berners.
"Well, sir, and Mr. Horace Blondelle ordered, besides the best rooms,
everything else that was best in the house, and, indeed, better than the
house contained; for, for his supper that very night, I had to send by
his directions, and procure Johanesberg, Moselle, and other rare and
costly wines, such as are seldom or never called for here. But then you
know, sir, he was a foreign gentleman."
"Certainly," agreed Lyon, with a smile.
"Next day, the finest horses and carriages from the livery stables. And
so on in the highest scale of expense, until his week's bill ran up to
seven hundred dollars. As a good deal of this was money paid out of my
pocket for costly wines and costly horses, I sent in my account on the
Saturday night. It is the usual thing, however, madam."
"I know," answered Mrs. Berners.
"Well, Mr. Horace Blondelle very promptly settled it by handing me a
check on the local bank for the amount. It was too late then to cash my
check, as the bank had been for some hours closed. But I resolved to
take it to the bank the first thing on Monday morning to get the money;
and I left Mr. Horace Blondelle's apartments with a secret feeling of
commendation for his prudence in putting his ready money in the local
bank, instead of keeping it about him in a crowded hotel like this. For,
you know, sir, that the recent daring robbery at the Monroe House has
proved to us that even the office safe is not _always_ 'safe.'"
"Not always," echoed Mr. Berners.
"Well, sir, and madam, I was so well pleased with my guest's promptitude
in settling his bill, that I redoubled my attentions to his comfort and
that of his party. On the Sunday he commenced the week's account by
giving a large dinner-party, for he had made acquaintances in the town.
And again the most expensive delicacies and the mostly costly wines were
ordered, with the most lavish extravagance. And they kept up the
festivities in rather a noisy manner through the whole night, which was
painful to me, I being a Churchman. But then, you know, madam, a
landlord can not interfere with his guests to that extent."
"Certainly not," admitted Mrs. Berners.
"Well, sir, the next morning after such a carousal, I naturally expected
my guests to sleep late, so I was not surprised that the stillness of
their rooms remained unbroken by any sound even up to ten o'clock. At
that hour however, the bank opened, and I went myself to get my check
cashed. There, sir, I got another check. Judge of my astonishment when
the cashier, after examining Mr. Horace Blondelle's paper, declared that
he knew no such person, and that there was no money deposited in that
bank to the credit of that name."
"It was a swindle!" exclaimed Mr. Berners, impulsively.
"It was a swindle," admitted the landlord. "Yes, sir, a swindle of the
basest sort, though I did not know it even then. I was inclined to be
angry with the cashier, but I reflected that there was probably a
mistake of some sort; so I hurried back home and inquired if Mr. Horace
Blondelle had shown himself yet. I was told that he had not yet even
rung his bell. Then I went to his private parlor, which had been the
scene of last night's dinner giving and Sabbath breaking. The servants
of the house had removed all signs of the carousal, and were moving
noiselessly about the room while restoring it to order, so as not to
disturb the rest of Mr. and Mrs. Horace Blondelle in the bedroom
adjoining. I told my people that, as soon as Mr. Blondelle should awake,
they must tell him that I begged leave to wait on him on a matter of
business. It is as well to say, that while I lingered in the room, the
nurse came in with the child, a pretty, fair-haired boy of five years
old. They occupied a little chamber at the end of the passage, in easy
reach of the child's mother. The nurse came in, hushing and cautioning
the child not to make a noise, lest he should wake up poor mamma and
papa, who were so tired. I mention this little domestic incident
because, in some strange way that I cannot begin to understand, it
quieted my misgivings, so that I went below and waited patiently for the
rising of Mr. Horace Blondelle. Madam, I might have waited till this
time!" said the landlord, pausing solemnly.
"Why? go on and tell me!" impulsively exclaimed Mrs. Berners.
"Why? I will soon let you know. I waited until long after noon. And
still no sound from the bedroom. I walked in and out of the
sitting-room, where the table was set for breakfast, and still no sound
from the bedroom. And in the sitting-room no sound of occupation but
the waiting breakfast-table in the middle of the floor, and the nurse
seated at one of the windows with the impatient child at her knee.
"'Your master and mistress sleep late,' I said.
"'Yes, sir, they were up late last night,' she replied while twisting
the child's golden ringlets around her fingers, in pure idleness, for
they did not need curling.
"I went away and staid away for about an hour, and then returned to the
sitting-room. No sound from the bedroom yet. No change in the
sitting-room, except that the nurse had taken a seat at the corner of
the table with the child on her lap, and was feeding him from a bowl of
milk and bread.
"'Your master and mistress not up yet?' I ventured to say.
"'No, sir, and no sign of them; I am giving little Crowy his supper, and
am going to put him to bed. And if the bell don't ring by that time, I
shall make bold to knock at the door and wake them up. Because, sir, I'm
getting uneasy. Something might be the matter, though I don't know
what,' said the girl, anxiously.
"'So am I, I wish you would. And when your master has breakfasted, tell
him I wish to be permitted to wait on him,' I said to the girl, and I
left the room for the tenth time, I do suppose, that day."
"Well!" eagerly exclaimed Sybil.
"Well, madam, in less than an hour from that time, one of the waiters
came to me with looks of alarm, and said that something must have
happened in number 90, for that the lady's maid had been knocking and
calling loudly at the door for the last ten minutes without being able
to make herself heard within."
"Oh!" breathed Sybil, clasping her hands.
"Madam, I hurried to the spot. I joined my efforts to those of the
terrified maid to arouse the sleepers within the chamber, but with no
effect. The maid was almost crazy by this time, ma'am."
"'Oh, sir, are they murdered in their bed?' she cried to me.
"'Murdered? No, but something has happened, and we must force open the
door, my good girl,' I said by way of calming her. You may well judge,
sir, that I did not send for a locksmith; but with a crowbar, hastily
procured from below, I hoisted the door from its hangings and effected
an entrance."
"And then? And then?" breathlessly inquired Sybil, perceiving that the
landlord paused for a moment.
"We found the room in the utmost confusion. Chests of drawers,
clothes-presses, boxes, and so forth, stood wide open, with their
contents scattered over the floor. We glanced at the bed, and the maid
uttered a wild scream, and even I felt my blood run cold; for there lay
the form of the lady, still, cold, pallid, livid, like that of a corpse
many hours dead. No sign of Blondelle was to be seen about the chamber."
"Oh! had he murdered her and fled?" gasped Sybil, with a half-suppressed
hysterical sob.
Mr. Berners passed his arm around her shoulders and drew her head down
upon his breast, and signed for the landlord to proceed with his story.
"Sir," continued Mr. Judson, "I went up to that bedside in the worst