The House of Whispers | Page 7

number of business papers and placed them
upon the writing-table before her father.
"No," he said, running his thin white hands over them, "not business
to-night, dear, but pleasure. Where is that box from the Professor?"
"It's here, dad. Shall I open it?"
"Yes," he replied. "That dear old fellow never forgets his old friend.
Never a seal finds its way into the collection at Cambridge but he first
sends it to me for examination before it is catalogued. He knows what

pleasure it is to me to decipher them and make out their history--almost,
alas! the only pleasure left to me, except you, my darling."
"Professor Moyes adopts your opinion always, dad. He knows, as every
other antiquary knows, that you are the greatest living authority on the
subject which you have made a lifetime study--that of the bronze seals
of the Middle Ages."
"Ah!" sighed the old man, "if I could only write my great book! It is the
pleasure debarred me. Years ago I started to collect material; but my
affliction came, and now I can only feel the matrices and picture them
in my mind. I see through your eyes, dear Gabrielle. To me, the world I
loved so much is only a blank darkness, with your dear voice sounding
out of it--the only voice, my child, that is music to my ears."
The girl said nothing. She only glanced at the sad, expressionless face,
and, cutting the string of the small packet, displayed three bronze
seals--two oval, about two inches long, and the third round, about one
inch in diameter, and each with a small kind of handle on the reverse.
With them were sulphur-casts or impressions taken from them, ready to
be placed in the museum at Cambridge.
The old man's nervous fingers travelled over the surfaces quickly, an
expression of complete satisfaction in his face.
"Have you the magnifying-glass, dear? Tell me what you make of the
inscriptions," he said, at the same time carefully feeling the curious
mediaeval lettering of one of the casts.
At the same instant she started, rose quickly from her chair, and held
her breath.
A man, tall, dark-faced, and wearing a thin black overcoat, had entered
noiselessly from the lawn by the open window, and stood there, with
his finger upon his lips, indicating silence. Then he pointed outside,
with a commanding gesture that she should follow.
Her eyes met his in a glance of fierce resentment, and instinctively she

placed her hand upon her breast, as though to stay the beating of her
heart.
Again he pointed in silent authority, and she as though held in some
mysterious thraldom, made excuse to the blind man, and, rising,
followed in his noiseless footsteps.

CHAPTER III
SEALS OF DESTINY
Ten minutes later she returned, panting, her face pale and haggard, her
mouth hard-set. For a moment she stood in silence upon the threshold
of the open doors leading to the grounds, her hand pressed to her breast
in a strenuous endeavour to calm herself. She feared that her father
might detect her agitation, for he was so quick in discovering in her the
slightest unusual emotion. She glanced behind her with an expression
full of fear, as though dreading the reappearance of that man who had
compelled her to follow him out into the night. Then she looked at her
father, who, still seated motionless with his back to her, was busy with
his fingers upon something on the blotting-pad before him.
In that brief absence her countenance had entirely changed. She was
pale to the lips, with drawn brows, while about her mouth played a hard,
bitter expression, as though her mind were bent upon some desperate
resolve.
That the man who had come there by stealth was no stranger was
evident; yet that between them was some deep-rooted enmity was
equally apparent. Nevertheless, he held her irresistibly within his toils.
His clean-shaven face was a distinctly evil one. His eyes were set too
close together, and in his physiognomy was something unscrupulous
and relentless. He was not the man for a woman to trust.
She stepped back from the threshold, and for a few seconds halted
outside, her ears strained to catch any sound. Then, as though reassured,

she pushed the chestnut hair from her hot, fevered brow, held her
breath with strenuous effort, and, re-entering the library, advanced to
her father's side.
"I wondered where you had gone, dear," he said in his low, calm voice,
as he detected her presence. "I hoped you would not leave me for long,
for it is not very often we enjoy an evening so entirely alone as
to-night."
"Leave you, dear old dad! Why, of course not!" She laughed gaily, as
though nothing had occurred to disturb her peace of