Chapter 3

The opportunity came after dinner that evening when we were all in the drawing-room, Lady Catafalque dozing uneasily in her armchair behind a fire screen, and Chlorine, in the further room, playing funereal dirges in the darkness, and pressing the stiff keys of the old piano with a languid uncertain touch.

Drawing a chair up to Sir Paul’s, I began to broach the subject calmly and temperately. “I find,” I said, “that we have not quite understood one another over this affair in the Gray Chamber. When I agreed to an appointment there, I thought—well, it doesn’t matter what I thought, I was a little too premature. What I want to say now is, that while I have no objection to you, as Chlorine’s father, asking me any questions (in reason) about myself, I feel a delicacy in discussing my private affairs with a perfect stranger.”

His burning eyes looked me through and through; “I don’t understand,” he said. “Tell me what you are talking about.”

I began all over again, telling him exactly what I felt about solicitors and settlements. “Are you well?” he asked sternly. “What have I ever said about settlements or solicitors?”

I saw that I was wrong again, and could only stammer something to the effect that a remark of Chlorine’s had given me this impression.

“What she could have said to convey such an idea passes my comprehension,” he said gravely; “but she knows nothing—-she’s a mere child. I have felt from the first, my boy, that your aunt’s intention was to benefit you quite as much as my own daughter. Believe me, I shall not attempt to restrict you in any way; I shall be too rejoiced to see you come forth in safety from the Gray Chamber.”

All the relief I had begun to feel respecting the settlements was poisoned by these last words.

Why did he talk of that confounded Gray Chamber as if it were a fiery furnace, or a cage of lions? What mystery was there concealed beneath all this, and how, since I was obviously supposed to be thoroughly acquainted with it, could I manage to penetrate the secret of this perplexing appointment?

While he had been speaking, the faint, mournful music died away, and, looking up, I saw Chlorine, a pale, slight form, standing framed in the archway which connected the two rooms.

“Go back to your piano, my child,” said the baronet; “Augustus and I have much to talk about which is not for your ears.

“But why not?” she said; “oh, why not? Papa! Dearest mother! Augustus! I can bear it no longer! I have often felt of late that we are living this strange life under the shadow of some fearful Thing, which would chase all cheerfulness from any home. More than this I did not seek to know; I dared not ask. But now, when I know that Augustus, whom I love with my whole heart, must shortly face this ghastly presence, you cannot wonder if I seek to learn the real extent of the danger that awaits him! Tell me all. I can bear the worst—for it cannot be more horrible than my own fears!”