Round the Fire Stories

And so no doubt it was. He had a huge oaken cabinet arranged in shallowdrawers, and here, neatly ticketed and classified, were beetles fromevery corner of the earth, black, brown, blue, green, and mottled. Everynow and then as he swept his hand over the lines and lines of impaledinsects he would catch up some rare specimen, and, handling it with asmuch delicacy and reverence as if it were a precious relic, he wouldhold forth upon its peculiarities and the circumstances under which itcame into his possession. It was evidently an unusual thing for him tomeet with a sympathetic listener, and he talked and talked until thespring evening had deepened into night, and the gong announced that itwas time to dress for dinner. All the time Lord Linchmere said nothing,but he stood at his brother-in-law’s elbow, and I caught him continuallyshooting curious little, questioning glances into his face. And his ownfeatures expressed some strong emotion, apprehension, sympathy,expectation: I seemed to read them all. I was sure that Lord Linchmerewas fearing something and awaiting something, but what that somethingmight be I could not imagine.

The evening passed quietly but pleasantly, and I should have beenentirely at my ease if it had not been for that continual sense oftension upon the part of Lord Linchmere. As to our host, I found that heimproved upon acquaintance. He spoke constantly with affection of hisabsent wife, and also of his little son, who had recently been sent toschool. The house, he said, was not the same without them. If it werenot for his scientific studies, he did not know how he could get throughthe days. After dinner we smoked for some time in the billiard-room, andfinally went early to bed.

And then it was that, for the first time, the suspicion that LordLinchmere was a lunatic crossed my mind. He followed me into my bedroom,when our host had retired.

“Doctor,” said he, speaking in a low, hurried voice, “you must come withme. You must spend the night in my bedroom.”

“What do you mean?”

“I prefer not to explain. But this is part of your duties. My room isclose by, and you can return to your own before the servant calls you inthe morning.”

“But why?” I asked.

“Because I am nervous of being alone,” said he. “That’s the reason,since you must have a reason.”

It seemed rank lunacy, but the argument of those twenty pounds wouldovercome many objections. I followed him to his room.

“Well,” said I, “there’s only room for one in that bed.”

“Only one shall occupy it,” said he.

“And the other?”

“Must remain, on watch.”

“Why?” said I. “One would think you expected to be attacked.”

“Perhaps I do.”

“In that case, why not lock your door?”

“Perhaps I _want_ to be attacked.”

It looked more and more like lunacy. However, there was nothing for itbut to submit. I shrugged my shoulders and sat down in the arm-chairbeside the empty fireplace.

“I am to remain on watch, then?” said I, ruefully.

“We will divide the night. If you will watch until two, I will watch theremainder.”

“Very good.”

“Call me at two o’clock, then.”

“I will do so.”

“Keep your ears open, and if you hear any sounds wake meinstantly—instantly, you hear?”

“You can rely upon it.” I tried to look as solemn as he did.

“And for God’s sake don’t go to sleep,” said he, and so, taking off onlyhis coat, he threw the coverlet over him and settled down for the night.

It was a melancholy vigil, and made more so by my own sense of itsfolly. Supposing that by any chance Lord Linchmere had cause to suspectthat he was subject to danger in the house of Sir Thomas Rossiter, whyon earth could he not lock his door and so protect himself? His ownanswer that he might wish to be attacked was abs

urd. Why should hepossibly wish to be attacked? And who would wish to attack him? Clearly,Lord Linchmere was suffering from some singular delusion, and the resultwas that on an imbecile pretext I was to be deprived of my night’s rest.Still, however absurd, I was determined to carry out his injunctions tothe letter as long as I was in his employment. I sat therefore besidethe empty fireplace, and listened to a sonorous chiming clock somewheredown the passage, which gurgled and struck every quarter of an hour. Itwas an endless vigil. Save for that single clock, an absolute silencereigned throughout the great house. A small lamp stood on the table atmy elbow, throwing a circle of light round my chair, but leaving thecorners of the room draped in shadow. On the bed Lord Linchmere wasbreathing peacefully. I envied him his quiet sleep, and again and againmy own eyelids drooped, but every time my sense of duty came to my help,and I sat up, rubbing my eyes and pinching myself with a determinationto see my irrational watch to an end.

And I did so. From down the passage came the chimes of two o’clock, andI laid my hand upon the shoulder of the sleeper. Instantly he wassitting up, with an expression of the keenest interest upon his face.

“You have heard something?”