The Sapphire Cross

For a few seconds he could hear nothing but the loud tick of a clock somewhere close at hand, but directly after came a slight grating, which he knew to be a key turning in a lock; and gliding in the direction, he found an open door, through which he passed in time to hear a faint ejaculation, as some one brushed against a light chair. Then came once more the sound of key in lock, and Brace suspected that he must be in a suite of rooms, leading one from the other.

There was furniture all around, but by means of exercising great caution he was enabled to creep on slowly till his hand rested upon an open door, against the edge of which he nearly struck his forehead. On trying to the left, he found that his hand rested on a chiffonnière, his touch displacing a china cup and saucer standing upon the marble top. The sound was very slight, but it seemed to have alarmed the burglar, for as Brace stood motionless behind the door, there was a faint, very faint rustling sound, and a hard breathing coming nearer and nearer, till, as he shrank slightly back, he could hear the dull throb, throb of another beating heart, and he held his breath till the oppression was fearful.

He had but to stretch forth his hand to seize this midnight visitor, but something restrained him, and after a few minutes’ pause, the rustling and gliding sound recommenced; then came the faint rattle of a door-handle, and this time the slight creaking of hinges.

Brace crept round the door, and passed cautiously into another room, his every step measured with the greatest care, till, after traversing some distance of what seemed an endless journey amongst crowded furniture, he was almost in despair, regretting that he had not seized the man when within his reach, for he could find no door; but a minute later, and there was a soft rattle on his right – a sound as of some one lifting fire-irons from their place and laying them upon a soft rug; and, guided by the sound, Brace felt his way to another open door, and stood upon the long-piled carpet of another room, where he could again hear the hard breathing. There was a faint click, and what sounded like the fall of a standard, and then once more utter silence for full a quarter of an hour.

But at the end of that time, measured out by a chiming pendule upon the chimney-piece, the rustling again commenced; and, as Brace cautiously stepped two paces nearer, he could, mentally, see all that took place, as, with nerves strained to their greatest tension, he eagerly drank in each sound.

The rough visitor was upon his knees, moving the fender aside. Then there was the rustling, as of the removal of paper-shavings from the grate, and directly after the click, click of iron-work.

What could that be? What did it mean? The man must be at work at the grate. Was he a workman, in a state of insanity or somnambulism? This could be no burglar.

Yes, there it was again, the clicking rattle of the iron plate of a register-stove, followed by a faint puff of air, laden with that fine, impalpable soot from an unused chimney; and, as the excitement began to fade, Brace smiled bitterly, with something like contempt, for the pitiful conclusion of this romance. The man was, evidently, trying to ascend or reach up the chimney, for he could hear him groping about behind the iron-work; there was the rustle of little bits of falling mortar. The hard breathing had ceased, but there was the rustling noise of the man’s lower limbs, as he seemed to be straining hard to reach something, and at last came the sound as of his struggling down.

Brace, on smiling at the pitiful termination of his knight-errant’s quest, had crept closer and closer, until now he stood guardedly upon one side of the fire-place, for there could be no doubt respecting the sounds he had heard. The rustling continued for a few moments, and then the hard panting noise recommenced, followed by an unmistakable stifled sneeze, and directly after a voice muttered:

“Cuss the sut! But I’ve got it at last, though.”

Got what? Brace’s heart began to increase its rate, and the excitement, he knew not why, rapidly returned, as there was the sound of an opening box, a scratching, and a faint line of light appeared upon the fender.

“No go,” muttered the voice, and again there was the opening sound, and the scratch of a match upon the stone this time, for it commenced burning with its faint blue fluttering light before the splint caught fire.

At the same moment there was the sharp blowing, as of some one puffing dust from some object – the sooty dust, light as air, being wafted right in Brace’s face. Then the splint caught fire, and blazed up for an instant, but only to be quenched the next, as there fell, upon the young man’s ears the softly-muttered words:

“That’s it at last!”

The Cross

That faint flash of light, instantaneous as it was, sufficed to pierce one of the veils that had for many years shrouded the mysteries of the past. Brace saw in that brief interval the meaning of the nocturnal visit, the caution observed, and as plainly as if the words had been uttered in his ears, he knew the man’s name. It was clear enough now: when that scoundrel had left the conservatory, he must have entered this room – the blue-room, it must be – the room which, for twenty long years, had held a secret unsuspected by a soul. And he, Brace Norton, had now at his mercy the cause of the long, cruel suspicions which rested upon Lady Gernon and his father. He had him at his mercy, with the proof of innocence in his hand – the proof which, after twice failing, he had, after twenty years’ transportation, returned to drag from its hiding-place. But not to establish the innocence of the living, or of her who had so mysteriously disappeared; it was for his own aggrandisement: Brace could feel that, as, with an intense desire upon him to strangle the cause of so much cruel misery and heart-burning, he leaned forward.

For in that one brief flash – brief as the time that these thoughts had taken to dart through his mind – Brace Norton had seen lying, in a soot-grained hand, flashing in wondrous beauty, the magnificent true-blue sapphire cross described by Mrs Norton; and as the light was quenched, Brace had sprung forward, clutching glittering gems with one hand, and the marauder’s throat with the other.

There was a howl of rage and astonishment from the man he clutched, as, with his impetuous bound, Brace Norton drove him backwards, but the next instant the struggle going on was fierce and desperate. Capture and escape were forgotten in the intense desire to hold the cross. On the one hand, there was the valuable object panted for during twenty long years of punishment. On the other, there was fair fame, and also the hope of reconciliation and future happiness; and, as Brace Norton nerved himself for the fight, he mentally vowed that he would die sooner than be conquered.

It was time now to rouse the house, and as, for an instant, he struggled uppermost he uttered a long, loud cry for help, one which went echoing through the house, followed by the crashing of slight drawing-room furniture, the overturning and wrecking of what-nots laden with rare and curious china. The frail chairs were fallen over and snapped, and once the man, who fought so fiercely, fell over the fender that he had dragged from its place, but only to bound up again, and for the struggle to become more fierce than ever.

It was the battle between youth and activity and the iron muscles of one who had lived a long and abstemious life of toil, and more than once Brace Norton could have groaned, as he felt himself gradually growing weaker and weaker. But he still clutched the cross tightly, in spite of the furious blows dealt him in the face by his adversary, whose hot breath came upon the young man’s flushed temples now, as, in a determined effort, he grasped him round both arms in a deadly hug that threatened to crush his ribs, whilst the next moment Brace felt himself lifted from the floor and hurled back, his foe falling upon him with all his weight.

The sense was almost driven from his bruised body by this fierce onslaught; but in spite of his despair, Brace was still determined. He could not fight now, he was too much exhausted; but he could defend the treasure, which grew in value as he seemed to be about to lose it.

So far he had grasped the cross with but one hand; now he placed over it the other, holding it to his breast, and pressing his chin upon his hands.

“Leave go!” hissed his enemy, and blow after blow was rained upon poor Brace’s face, his foe now seating himself upon his chest, and by turns striving to unlace his fingers, and striking him brutally with his bony hands.

“Will help never come?” thought Brace. “Am I to give up life and the cross as well?”

The next moment he had exerted his little remaining strength, and with a fierce plunge partly dislodged his foe and turned himself half round upon his face, so that now he held the cross beneath him, gaining a few more minutes, in the hope that help might come, when, with a cry of rage, the man again struck him furiously.

Then there was a moment’s reprieve, and half-stunned and totally helpless, Brace listened; but for a few seconds he could only hear a horrible singing in his ears. Then he shivered, for the man was doing something, and Brace’s sharpened senses told him that a knife was being opened by teeth grasping the blade; then he gave a faint, shuddering struggle, but only to lie passive, as a strange blow fell upon his unprotected shoulder – a hot, burning blow, accompanied by a deadly, sick sensation.

It was his last effort, as, struggling round, a light flashed into the room, and in that one second he saw above his breast the upraised knife of his adversary. The next instant there was a loud report, followed by the noise as of thunder in his ears, and then all was blank.

The Doctor’s Answer

It was with a sense of waking from a dream that Brace Norton opened his eyes to gaze upon lights and faces dancing around him; but it was long before he could collect his thoughts sufficiently to reply to questions that were asked. By degrees, though, he could make out that it was Sir Murray Gernon who was speaking, and then there arose a loud, wailing woman’s cry, followed by a voice Brace recognised.

“Ye’re reet, lassie – it is, sure enew. It’s Jock Gurdon come back to get his deserts.”

“Blast you! – a doctor – I’m – I’m dy – Here, quick! – a doctor, or I shall bleed to death!” groaned the wretched man.

“Has any one gone for a medical man?” said a stern voice.

“Yes, Sir Mooray, I’ve sent for a doctor and the police, too. It’s gude for us that the loons were quarrelling over the spoil.”

“Isa, my child, this is no place for you!” exclaimed Sir Murray.

“That’s right,” cried Lord Maudlaine, who was also present; “I’ve been asking her to go. My dear Miss Gernon – Isa – what are you about? Don’t go near him!”

Lord Maudlaine might well exclaim, for Isa Gernon, pale and scared, was slowly advancing towards where Brace Norton lay. The eyes of love were more piercing than those of the bystanders; and in those swollen and bleeding features Isa had recognised those of the man who had told her again and again of his love.

“Brace!” she cried, in a low, husky voice, as, falling upon her knees at his side, heedless of all present, she laid her hands upon his; for this could be no burglar, as they had told her – there must be some horrible mystery here.

“Isa!” he whispered, as his eyes met hers for an instant, ere they closed.

“Quick! – quick!” cried the agitated girl. “Father – dear papa – oh, what is this? You have shot him, and he is dying. Oh, quick! – quick! – a doctor!”

Her cries seemed to drive away the fainting sensation that oppressed Brace Norton; and as Sir Murray – astounded at his daughter’s words – hurried to her side, the young man’s eyes again unclosed, for his lips to part in a faint smile.

“No, no,” he whispered – “not shot – that man – Gurdon – I followed him – stabbed, I fear – perhaps to death – the cross, Sir Murray; look! Lady Gernon’s – my father’s innocence – left for me to prove – I know – old story – take it, Isa, love – if I pass away, recollect – not – son – dishonoured man – saved – ”

“The brae laddie has fainted, and, Gude save us! it’s young Brace Norton. Here, quick! – some water, and don’t all stand staring like daft fules!” cried McCray. But, at the same moment, with his mind a chaos of wild thoughts, Sir Murray Gernon had sunk upon his knees by the young man, whose hands still clutched the sparkling cross, the jewels glittering brightly yet, though partly encrusted with soot. It was some few minutes, during which he had been striving to stanch the young man’s wound, before he could arrange his thoughts into something like their proper sequence.

This man, then – this Gurdon – had, indeed, stolen the cross; picked it up the night of the great party – more than twenty years ago – and concealed it here, behind the stove; for it was plain enough from whence it had been taken. Here, then, was the key to Gurdon’s attempted burglaries – the man who, with the knowledge of a hidden treasure, had never been able to take it from the spot where it had been placed. Had he, then, – he, Sir Murray Gernon, – been wrong in his suspicions, and was this young man’s father, after all, innocent? No; impossible! he was clear of one foul stain, but the other mystery was unsolved.

The unwonted feeling of gentleness that had come upon him, for a few minutes, as he knelt by the injured man, soon passed away, and the old, hard frown came fiercely back.

There was no one there he could speak to, and say that he was glad the jewels were found, and that he hoped the other mystery might be cleared up; but he rose, with a half-shudder, from his knees, as Jane McCray came forward, pale and trembling, her eyes fixed on his; and as the recollection of the past came back, he would have turned and left the room. But Jane’s hand was on his arm, and, in a voice that was only heard by Isa, she said, beseechingly:

“Oh, Sir Murray, don’t be hard upon your poor child, as you were on my own dear lady! I’ll never say a word – I’ll take all with me to the grave; only, now that it has pleased Heaven to make all this clear, and to show you what you would never believe, try and repent, and ask forgiveness of those you so cruelly wronged! You can’t do much now – it’s too late; but oh! Sir Murray – dear master – do something! Twenty years and more ago, now, since the wrongs were done; and yet, you see, how judgment comes at last for the wicked. You know now how cruelly wrong you were; there it all is. You thought, between them, there had been something done with that cross, and now you see. I hoped that man had died repenting, in a far-off land; but it was to be his fate to come and clear this up first – to show you how ill you treated my poor, sweet lady – to show you her innocence and – ”

“Loose your hold, woman!” whispered Sir Murray, hoarsely.

“No,” she said, holding his arm tightly – “not yet. You know how I promised her, Sir Murray, that I’d be, as far as I could, a mother to that child; and I’ve tried to. Haven’t I, for her sake, sealed my lips, and kept hid a secret that has made the white come in my hair? Am I not an old and faithful servant? After what I have done, can you not trust me when I say that I will carry all I know to the grave? But, Sir Murray, you will try – you will make right what you can. Don’t break their hearts. Look at that brave boy. You know how he loves her; you know how you injured his father. Promise me that you will repent of it all, and try to make them happy.”

“Confound the woman!” cried Sir Murray, angrily – “she is mad! Lord Maudlaine, this is no place for your betrothed; take her away. Ha! here is the doctor at last.”

As Jane McCray covered her face with her hands, and fell back with a groan, Lord Maudlaine advanced to where Isa, who had heard all that had passed, still knelt by Brace Norton’s side.