The Silent Dead

Chapter II.—The House on the Moor.-1

Chapter II.—The House on the Moor.Following upon my coming to the house on the moor, it was some weeks before I settled down into a contented frame of mind and felt happy in my surroundings. It was not that my employer and two fellow-servants from the very first did not do their best to make me comfortable, as it was obvious they were intending to be most kind to me. The work, too, was light and I had plenty of spare time to myself; the food was good and there was a cosy, homely atmosphere in the big kitchen where we three had our meals. Another thing, I had a nice comfortably furnished room in the upper story and, the weather being cold—it was November when I arrived—I could have as big a fire as I wanted in the huge old-fashioned grate.

Yet—I could not shake off the feeling that an evil spirit brooded over the place. There was something so gloomy and sinister in the great loneliness of our surroundings, and it seemed to suggest to me tragedy of a mysterious and unknown kind. As I expected from what I had heard at the hotel in Bovey Tracey, we were miles and miles from anywhere, with no other habitations in sight, no road near us and, week after week, no human beings passed by. We might, I thought, be the last people left alive in all the world, destined to live and die and meet no fellow creatures again.

The house was situated about halfway down a sort of big saucer in the moor and surrounded on all sides in the near distance by the huge grey tors. Though of anything but a nervous disposition, I used sometimes to sit at my window at night and imagine there were hundreds of unfriendly eyes watching the house. When the moon was up I was quite sure I could see dim and ghostly figures flittering round among the rocks at the foot of the tors.

Amusingly enough, to some extent I had got upon a confidential footing with my master at once, almost indeed before I had been in the house a couple of hours. We had hardly finished the midday meal when he appeared at the door of the kitchen and beckoned me out.

“I want you to get accustomed to the dogs,” he said, “and the sooner the better, because, seeing so few people, they are inclined to be unfriendly with strangers. I hope you are not afraid of dogs.”

I told him I certainly was not, though up to then my acquaintance with dogs had been confined to the patting of the few mongrel strays that were always hanging about Rocker Street. He led me into the yard and two magnificent-looking Alsatians sidled up and eyed me suspiciously. “These are our children, mine and my servants,” he said with his voice dropping to gentle and affectionate tones, “Jupiter and Juno, the much-loved children of three old people. We dread the time when one day we shall have to lose them. No, don't be afraid. They'll be quiet as long as I am here with them.”

But I wasn't in the least bit afraid, and at once started to pat them. At first they just tolerated my attention, with their huge, fierce eyes fixed intently upon my face. Then, however, their tails began to wag ever so slightly which made my master seem rather surprised. “That's splendid!” he exclaimed. “You've evidently got a way with animals. Some people have, but it's a gift born in them and can never be acquired. Yes, they'll soon be friends with you and, once they are, they'll be faithful unto death. Now I'll show you another dog, but he won't take to you so easily. He's of a wild breed and you must never go too near him. First, I'll chain these two up. They've never got over their jealousy of Sakao. That's the other dog's name.”

He led the way across the yard to a big shed and, opening the door, I saw it contained a good-sized cage, heavily barred. The front of the cage faced away from us and looked out on to the open moor. I sniffed hard and an unpleasant chord of memory stirred in me. I was back in our horrible little house in Rocker Street again.

“But you've not got another dog here,” I exclaimed. “I can smell the smell of a wolf.”

My master turned on me with a start. “No, no,” he said sharply. “It's an Indian dog. He came from near Tibet.”

A dark blackish shape darted out from the shadows at the far end of the cage and, standing on its hind legs, thrust its muzzle against the bars, at the same time wagging its tail violently.

I laughed merrily. “But it is a wolf, sir,” I said, “an Alaskan wolf, and it's only half-grown as yet. It'll be twice that size one day.”

My master's pleasant face turned to one of great sternness. “What makes you think that?”

“Oh, I know for certain,” I said confidently. “You see, you see—” I hesitated for a few moments to gain time, “I had an uncle once who was a keeper in Max's Menagerie and he had charge of the wolves there. As a little girl, he used often to take me behind the cages and show me their cubs. That's how I recognise this wolf here.”

His face was a study. He looked most embarrassed and uneasy, and, indeed almost angry. Then suddenly his whole expression altered and his face broke again into its usual pleasant lines. “Then I see it's going to be no good trying to deceive you,” he said with a smile, “but I didn't want to frighten you. Yes, it is an Alaskan wolf and only half grown, as you said.”

A sudden thought came to my mind. “And did he then get out and kill those sheep that Sunday morning,” I asked, “those belonging to that farmer at a place called Lustleigh?” and a second later I could have kicked myself for being such a little fool to say I knew anything about what I heard had happened.

My master's face had become very stern again and he glared with angry suspicion at me. Still, he spoke very quietly, “And how, pray, do you come to know anything about it?” he asked.

Now as can be well understood, up to then I was only a very ill-educated young girl who had practically had no experience of the world, but I always take something of a pride in remembering how, after my so tactless and foolish admission that I was in possession of a secret he would certainly want no outsider to know, I yet collected my wits so quickly again and spoke quite as quietly and casually as he had done.

“Oh, I heard all about it this morning,” I replied, “when I was waiting for you in the hotel,” and I told him what the barman had said, adding quickly, “But you needn't be afraid, sir, that, if you do not wish it known, I shall never tell anyone you have a wolf here. I'm not a girl who talks and know when to hold my tongue. You can quite trust me.”

His face had cleared while I was speaking and he smiled quite nicely again. “Yes, I think I can,” he said. He shrugged his shoulders. “You see this poor beast has become something of a worry to me. When only a few weeks old he was smuggled here to me by a sea-captain friend of mine who thought he was giving me a wonderful present. I didn't want him, but I've gradually grown quite fond of him. He's a terrible one for getting out of his cage. That's twice he's done it now and the farmers would murder me if they knew I'd got him here.”

“But how did you get him back after he'd killed those sheep?” I asked wonderingly.

“He came back by himself and I found him whimpering outside his cage. The poor beast had become frightened and wanted to get back to his home.”

I took a great liking for my master at once and, in return, he evinced quite a fatherly interest in me. I always think it might have been because he had never married and had no children of his own. So the fact of having someone young about him appealed to him now in a novel sort of way. Another thing, too. With all his many interests, his collection of gold coins, his books and his writing at times he must have been lonely and wanted someone to talk to. His man, Rahm, was rather deaf and, accordingly, difficult to carry on a conversation with, and between him and Mrs. Rahm—I learnt the two of them had been in his household for upwards of thirty years—there was always something of the barrier of natural awe which I understand every Indian woman has for her Sahib. At any rate, with all her strength of character, Mrs. Rahm, I soon perceived, always seemed shy and meek when in his presence.

So, apart from helping in the housework for which I had been engaged because of Mrs. Rahm's advancing age and rheumatics, I speedily became as well something of a companion to my master. I carried his things for him when he went trout fishing in the little stream about half a mile from the house and accompanied him as well when he went out with his gun after plover on the moor. Of an evening, too, when I had soon become quite an expert with his typewriter, I typed while he dictated slowly a book he was writing about his so prized collection of gold coins.

And, oh, as it turned out in time, how fully I was to be repaid for every service I did for him! The three years I was associated with him were to make all the difference in the world to me in my after-life, as when we eventually parted I was altogether a changed girl from the raw and ignorant one who had first come to him.

When I had been with him only a few weeks, always of a kind and in a general way most conscientious disposition, it seemed suddenly to dawn upon him how unfair it was for him to have brought a girl of my age into such a lonely place where no chance would be given her of developing her character. So one day he told me smilingly that, as my mind was so virginal—of course he meant I was so ignorant of everything—he felt it his duty to give me some sort of education.

Accordingly, he started to awake my interest in everything generally. He talked to me of the countries he had been to, of history, of science, of the religions of the world, of the great men living and dead, of the great books that had been written, of art and even music.

His knowledge, as I came to realise later, was encyclopaedic and he had a way of imparting it that impressed it forcibly upon my memory. My memory was good and, naturally quick and sharp, he found me an apt pupil. He accompanied his teaching, too, with a reference to the hundreds and hundreds of books he had in his library.

Soon he was making me give a good part of each day to study, and if he had not stirred my ambitions I should certainly have regarded him as something of a hard taskmaster. However, I had become as enthusiastic as he was and never gave him any cause for complaint. I thought him one of the kindest and best of men and a real affection sprang up between us. I was not the only one either who thought the world of him.

His two Hindu servants idolised him, and everything he did, in their eyes, was right. Watching him like a faithful dog, his man, Rahm was always alert to do him any service he could.

Rahm and his wife were unlike any Hindus I had ever read about, as they both ate anything, and Rahm himself smoked quite a lot. Also whenever my master went into Bovey he always brought back a bottle of beer for him. I never had much to do with Rahm, as he was a quiet and reserved man who spoke very little. While he seemed to me to have little religion at all, his wife appeared to have lots of different kinds. Indeed, my master told me laughingly once that, though her people in India were of the Brahman or priestly class, she generally picked up something of a new religion wherever she went.

From the very first I was most interested in her, as she was a very unusual woman and so very clever and capable in so many ways. Of medium height, she was stout, with a big heavy face and huge dark eyes. She cooked beautifully and was one of the best dress-makers I have ever known. Of an evening when all the work was done, she would appear in a beautiful silk gown, and wearing big earrings and big bracelets of solid gold. She had beautiful brooches and rings of sparkling stones, too, and would bind her head round in a rich-looking scarf of most lovely colours. When later I had got to know her quite well I told her laughingly that she looked like a picture I had once seen of the favourite wife of an enormously wealthy Rajah. She was very pleased with what I said and gave me a stately bow. She could speak English perfectly.