The Lair of the White Worm

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"I quite agree, sir. I am in a whirl already; and want to attend
carefully to what you say; so that I may try to digest it."

Both men seemed fresher and better for the "easy," and when they met in
the afternoon each of them had something to contribute to the general
stock of information. Adam, who was by nature of a more militant
disposition than his elderly friend, was glad to see that the conference
at once assumed a practical trend. Sir Nathaniel recognised this, and,
like an old diplomatist, turned it to present use.

"Tell me now, Adam, what is the outcome, in your own mind, of our
conversation?"

"That the whole difficulty already assumes practical shape; but with
added dangers, that at first I did not imagine."

"What is the practical shape, and what are the added dangers? I am not
disputing, but only trying to clear my own ideas by the consideration of
yours--"

So Adam went on:

"In the past, in the early days of the world, there were monsters who
were so vast that they could exist for thousands of years. Some of them
must have overlapped the Christian era. They may have progressed
intellectually in process of time. If they had in any way so progressed,
or even got the most rudimentary form of brain, they would be the most
dangerous things that ever were in the world. Tradition says that one of
these monsters lived in the Marsh of the East, and came up to a cave in
Diana's Grove, which was also called the Lair of the White Worm. Such
creatures may have grown down as well as up. They _may_ have grown into,
or something like, human beings. Lady Arabella March is of snake nature.
She has committed crimes to our knowledge. She retains something of the
vast strength of her primal being--can see in the dark--has the eyes of a
snake. She used the nigger, and then dragged him through the snake's
hole down to the swamp; she is intent on evil, and hates some one we
love. Result . . . "

"Yes, the result?"

"First, that Mimi Watford should be taken away at once--then--"

"Yes?"

"The monster must be destroyed."

"Bravo! That is a true and fearless conclusion. At whatever cost, it
must be carried out."

"At once?"

"Soon, at all events. That creature's very existence is a danger. Her
presence in this neighbourhood makes the danger immediate."

As he spoke, Sir Nathaniel's mouth hardened and his eyebrows came down
till they met. There was no doubting his concurrence in the resolution,
or his readiness to help in carrying it out. But he was an elderly man
with much experience and knowledge of law and diplomacy. It seemed to
him to be a stern duty to prevent anything irrevocable taking place till
it had been thought out and all was ready. There were all sorts of legal
cruxes to be thought out, not only regarding the taking of life, even of
a monstrosity in human form, but also of property. Lady Arabella, be she
woman or snake or devil, owned the ground she moved in, according to
British law, and the law is jealous and swift to avenge wrongs done
within its ken. All such difficulties should be--must be--avoided for
Mr. Salton's sake, for Adam's own sake, and, most of all, for Mimi
Watford's sake.

Before he spoke again, Sir Nathaniel had made up his mind that he must
try to postpone decisive action until the circumstances on which they
depended--which, after all, were only problematical--should have been
tested satisfactorily, one way or another. When he did speak, Adam at
first thought that his friend was wavering in his intention, or "funking"
the responsibility. However, his respect for Sir Nathaniel was so great
that he would not act, or even come to a conclusion on a vital point,
without his sanction.

He came close and whispered in his ear:

"We will prepare our plans to combat and destroy this horrible menace,
after we have cleared up some of the more baffling points. Meanwhile, we
must wait for the night--I hear my uncle's footsteps echoing down the
hall."

Sir Nathaniel nodded his approval.




CHAPTER XXI--GREEN LIGHT


When old Mr. Salton had retired for the night, Adam and Sir Nathaniel
returned to the study. Things went with great regularity at Lesser Hill,
so they knew that there would be no interruption to their talk.

When their cigars were lighted, Sir Nathaniel began.

"I hope, Adam, that you do not think me either slack or changeable of
purpose. I mean to go through this business to the bitter end--whatever
it may be. Be satisfied that my first care is, and shall be, the
protection of Mimi Watford. To that I am pledged; my dear boy, we who
are interested are all in the same danger. That semi-human monster out
of the pit hates and means to destroy us all--you and me certainly, and
probably your uncle. I wanted especially to talk with you to-night, for
I cannot help thinking that the time is fast coming--if it has not come
already--when we must take your uncle into our confidence. It was one
thing when fancied evils threatened, but now he is probably marked for
death, and it is only right that he should know all."

"I am with you, sir. Things have changed since we agreed to keep him out
of the trouble. Now we dare not; consideration for his feelings might
cost his life. It is a duty--and no light or pleasant one, either. I
have not a shadow of doubt that he will want to be one with us in this.
But remember, we are his guests; his name, his honour, have to be thought
of as well as his safety."

"All shall be as you wish, Adam. And now as to what we are to do? We
cannot murder Lady Arabella off-hand. Therefore we shall have to put
things in order for the killing, and in such a way that we cannot be
taxed with a crime."

"It seems to me, sir, that we are in an exceedingly tight place. Our
first difficulty is to know where to begin. I never thought this
fighting an antediluvian monster would be such a complicated job. This
one is a woman, with all a woman's wit, combined with the heartlessness
of a _cocotte_. She has the strength and impregnability of a diplodocus.
We may be sure that in the fight that is before us there will be no
semblance of fair-play. Also that our unscrupulous opponent will not
betray herself!"

"That is so--but being feminine, she will probably over-reach herself.
Now, Adam, it strikes me that, as we have to protect ourselves and others
against feminine nature, our strong game will be to play our masculine
against her feminine. Perhaps we had better sleep on it. She is a thing
of the night; and the night may give us some ideas."

So they both turned in.

Adam knocked at Sir Nathaniel's door in the grey of the morning, and, on
being bidden, came into the room. He had several letters in his hand.
Sir Nathaniel sat up in bed.

"Well!"

"I should like to read you a few letters, but, of course, I shall not
send them unless you approve. In fact"--with a smile and a blush--"there
are several things which I want to do; but I hold my hand and my tongue
till I have your approval."

"Go on!" said the other kindly. "Tell me all, and count at any rate on
my sympathy, and on my approval and help if I can see my way."

Accordingly Adam proceeded:

"When I told you the conclusions at which I had arrived, I put in the
foreground that Mimi Watford should, for the sake of her own safety, be
removed--and that the monster which had wrought all the harm should be
destroyed."

"Yes, that is so."

"To carry this into practice, sir, one preliminary is required--unless
harm of another kind is to be faced. Mimi should have some protector
whom all the world would recognise. The only form recognised by
convention is marriage!"

Sir Nathaniel smiled in a fatherly way.

"To marry, a husband is required. And that husband should be you."

"Yes, yes."

"And the marriage should be immediate and secret--or, at least, not
spoken of outside ourselves. Would the young lady be agreeable to that
proceeding?"

"I do not know, sir!"

"Then how are we to proceed?"

"I suppose that we--or one of us--must ask her."

"Is this a sudden idea, Adam, a sudden resolution?"

"A sudden resolution, sir, but not a sudden idea. If she agrees, all is
well and good. The sequence is obvious."

"And it is to be kept a secret amongst ourselves?"

"I want no secret, sir, except for Mimi's good. For myself, I should
like to shout it from the house-tops! But we must be discreet; untimely
knowledge to our enemy might work incalculable harm."

"And how would you suggest, Adam, that we could combine the momentous
question with secrecy?"

Adam grew red and moved uneasily.

"Someone must ask her--as soon as possible!"

"And that someone?"

"I thought that you, sir, would be so good!"

"God bless my soul! This is a new kind of duty to take on--at my time of
life. Adam, I hope you know that you can count on me to help in any way
I can!"

"I have already counted on you, sir, when I ventured to make such a
suggestion. I can only ask," he added, "that you will be more than ever
kind to me--to us--and look on the painful duty as a voluntary act of
grace, prompted by kindness and affection."

"Painful duty!"

"Yes," said Adam boldly. "Painful to you, though to me it would be all
joyful."

"It is a strange job for an early morning! Well, we all live and learn.
I suppose the sooner I go the better. You had better write a line for me
to take with me. For, you see, this is to be a somewhat unusual
transaction, and it may be embarrassing to the lady, even to myself. So
we ought to have some sort of warrant, something to show that we have
been mindful of her feelings. It will not do to take acquiescence for
granted--although we act for her good."

"Sir Nathaniel, you are a true friend; I am sure that both Mimi and I
shall be grateful to you for all our lives--however long they may be!"

So the two talked it over and agreed as to points to be borne in mind by
the ambassador. It was striking ten when Sir Nathaniel left the house,
Adam seeing him quietly off.

As the young man followed him with wistful eyes--almost jealous of the
privilege which his kind deed was about to bring him--he felt that his
own heart was in his friend's breast.

The memory of that morning was like a dream to all those concerned in it.
Sir Nathaniel had a confused recollection of detail and sequence, though
the main facts stood out in his memory boldly and clearly. Adam Salton's
recollection was of an illimitable wait, filled with anxiety, hope, and
chagrin, all dominated by a sense of the slow passage of time and
accompanied by vague fears. Mimi could not for a long time think at all,
or recollect anything, except that Adam loved her and was saving her from
a terrible danger. When she had time to think, later on, she wondered
when she had any ignorance of the fact that Adam loved her, and that she
loved him with all her heart. Everything, every recollection however
small, every feeling, seemed to fit into those elemental facts as though
they had all been moulded together. The main and crowning recollection
was her saying goodbye to Sir Nathaniel, and entrusting to him loving
messages, straight from her heart, to Adam Salton, and of his bearing
when--with an impulse which she could not check--she put her lips to his
and kissed him. Later, when she was alone and had time to think, it was
a passing grief to her that she would have to be silent, for a time, to
Lilla on the happy events of that strange mission.

She had, of course, agreed to keep all secret until Adam should give her
leave to speak.

The advice and assistance of Sir Nathaniel was a great help to Adam in
carrying out his idea of marrying Mimi Watford without publicity. He
went with him to London, and, with his influence, the young man obtained
the license of the Archbishop of Canterbury for a private marriage. Sir
Nathaniel then persuaded old Mr. Salton to allow his nephew to spend a
few weeks with him at Doom Tower, and it was here that Mimi became Adam's
wife. But that was only the first step in their plans; before going
further, however, Adam took his bride off to the Isle of Man. He wished
to place a stretch of sea between Mimi and the White Worm, while things
matured. On their return, Sir Nathaniel met them and drove them at once
to Doom, taking care to avoid any one that he knew on the journey.

Sir Nathaniel had taken care to have the doors and windows shut and
locked--all but the door used for their entry. The shutters were up and
the blinds down. Moreover, heavy curtains were drawn across the windows.
When Adam commented on this, Sir Nathaniel said in a whisper:

"Wait till we are alone, and I'll tell you why this is done; in the
meantime not a word or a sign. You will approve when we have had a talk
together."

They said no more on the subject till after dinner, when they were
ensconced in Sir Nathaniel's study, which was on the top storey. Doom
Tower was a lofty structure, situated on an eminence high up in the Peak.
The top commanded a wide prospect, ranging from the hills above the
Ribble to the near side of the Brow, which marked the northern bound of
ancient Mercia. It was of the early Norman period, less than a century
younger than Castra Regis. The windows of the study were barred and
locked, and heavy dark curtains closed them in. When this was done not a
gleam of light from the tower could be seen from outside.

When they were alone, Sir Nathaniel explained that he had taken his old
friend, Mr. Salton, into full confidence, and that in future all would
work together.

"It is important for you to be extremely careful. In spite of the fact
that our marriage was kept secret, as also your temporary absence, both
are known."

"How? To whom?"

"How, I know not; but I am beginning to have an idea."

"To her?" asked Adam, in momentary consternation.

Sir Nathaniel shivered perceptibly.

"The White Worm--yes!"

Adam noticed that from now on, his friend never spoke of Lady Arabella
otherwise, except when he wished to divert the suspicion of others.

Sir Nathaniel switched off the electric light, and when the room was
pitch dark, he came to Adam, took him by the hand, and led him to a seat
set in the southern window. Then he softly drew back a piece of the
curtain and motioned his companion to look out.

Adam did so, and immediately shrank back as though his eyes had opened on
pressing danger. His companion set his mind at rest by saying in a low
voice:

"It is all right; you may speak, but speak low. There is no danger
here--at present!"

Adam leaned forward, taking care, however, not to press his face against
the glass. What he saw would not under ordinary circumstances have
caused concern to anybody. With his special knowledge, it was
appalling--though the night was now so dark that in reality there was
little to be seen.

On the western side of the tower stood a grove of old trees, of forest
dimensions. They were not grouped closely, but stood a little apart from
each other, producing the effect of a row widely planted. Over the tops
of them was seen a green light, something like the danger signal at a
railway-crossing. It seemed at first quite still; but presently, when
Adam's eye became accustomed to it, he could see that it moved as if
trembling. This at once recalled to Adam's mind the light quivering
above the well-hole in the darkness of that inner room at Diana's Grove,
Oolanga's awful shriek, and the hideous black face, now grown grey with
terror, disappearing into the impenetrable gloom of the mysterious
orifice. Instinctively he laid his hand on his revolver, and stood up
ready to protect his wife. Then, seeing that nothing happened, and that
the light and all outside the tower remained the same, he softly pulled
the curtain over the window.

Sir Nathaniel switched on the light again, and in its comforting glow
they began to talk freely.




CHAPTER XXII--AT CLOSE QUARTERS


"She has diabolical cunning," said Sir Nathaniel. "Ever since you left,
she has ranged along the Brow and wherever you were accustomed to
frequent. I have not heard whence the knowledge of your movements came
to her, nor have I been able to learn any data whereon to found an
opinion. She seems to have heard both of your marriage and your absence;
but I gather, by inference, that she does not actually know where you and
Mimi are, or of your return. So soon as the dusk fails, she goes out on
her rounds, and before dawn covers the whole ground round the Brow, and
away up into the heart of the Peak. The White Worm, in her own proper
shape, certainly has great facilities for the business on which she is
now engaged. She can look into windows of any ordinary kind. Happily,
this house is beyond her reach, if she wishes--as she manifestly does--to
remain unrecognised. But, even at this height, it is wise to show no
lights, lest she might learn something of our presence or absence."

"Would it not be well, sir, if one of us could see this monster in her
real shape at close quarters? I am willing to run the risk--for I take
it there would be no slight risk in the doing. I don't suppose anyone of
our time has seen her close and lived to tell the tale."

Sir Nathaniel held up an expostulatory hand.

"Good God, lad, what are you suggesting? Think of your wife, and all
that is at stake."

"It is of Mimi that I think--for her sake that I am willing to risk
whatever is to be risked."

Adam's young bride was proud of her man, but she blanched at the thought
of the ghastly White Worm. Adam saw this and at once reassured her.

"So long as her ladyship does not know whereabout I am, I shall have as
much safety as remains to us; bear in mind, my darling, that we cannot be
too careful."

Sir Nathaniel realised that Adam was right; the White Worm had no
supernatural powers and could not harm them until she discovered their
hiding place. It was agreed, therefore, that the two men should go
together.

When the two men slipped out by the back door of the house, they walked
cautiously along the avenue which trended towards the west. Everything
was pitch dark--so dark that at times they had to feel their way by the
palings and tree-trunks. They could still see, seemingly far in front of
them and high up, the baleful light which at the height and distance
seemed like a faint line. As they were now on the level of the ground,
the light seemed infinitely higher than it had from the top of the tower.
At the sight Adam's heart fell; the danger of the desperate enterprise
which he had undertaken burst upon him. But this feeling was shortly
followed by another which restored him to himself--a fierce loathing, and
a desire to kill, such as he had never experienced before.

They went on for some distance on a level road, fairly wide, from which
the green light was visible. Here Sir Nathaniel spoke softly, placing
his lips to Adam's ear for safety.

"We know nothing whatever of this creature's power of hearing or
smelling, though I presume that both are of no great strength. As to
seeing, we may presume the opposite, but in any case we must try to keep
in the shade behind the tree-trunks. The slightest error would be fatal
to us."

Adam only nodded, in case there should be any chance of the monster
seeing the movement.

After a time that seemed interminable, they emerged from the circling
wood. It was like coming out into sunlight by comparison with the misty
blackness which had been around them. There was light enough to see by,
though not sufficient to distinguish things at a distance. Adam's eyes
sought the green light in the sky. It was still in about the same place,
but its surroundings were more visible. It was now at the summit of what
seemed to be a long white pole, near the top of which were two pendant
white masses, like rudimentary arms or fins. The green light, strangely
enough, did not seem lessened by the surrounding starlight, but had a
clearer effect and a deeper green. Whilst they were carefully regarding
this--Adam with the aid of an opera-glass--their nostrils were assailed
by a horrid stench, something like that which rose from the well-hole in
Diana's Grove.

By degrees, as their eyes got the right focus, they saw an immense
towering mass that seemed snowy white. It was tall and thin. The lower
part was hidden by the trees which lay between, but they could follow the
tall white shaft and the duplicate green lights which topped it. As they
looked there was a movement--the shaft seemed to bend, and the line of
green light descended amongst the trees. They could see the green light
twinkle as it passed between the obstructing branches.

Seeing where the head of the monster was, the two men ventured a little
further forward, and saw that the hidden mass at the base of the shaft
was composed of vast coils of the great serpent's body, forming a base
from which the upright mass rose. As they looked, this lower mass moved,
the glistening folds catching the moonlight, and they could see that the
monster's progress was along the ground. It was coming towards them at a
swift pace, so they turned and ran, taking care to make as little noise
as possible, either by their footfalls or by disturbing the undergrowth
close to them. They did not stop or pause till they saw before them the
high dark tower of Doom.




CHAPTER XXIII--IN THE ENEMY'S HOUSE


Sir Nathaniel was in the library next morning, after breakfast, when Adam
came to him carrying a letter.

"Her ladyship doesn't lose any time. She has begun work already!"

Sir Nathaniel, who was writing at a table near the window, looked up.

"What is it?" said he.

Adam held out the letter he was carrying. It was in a blazoned envelope.

"Ha!" said Sir Nathaniel, "from the White Worm! I expected something of
the kind."

"But," said Adam, "how could she have known we were here? She didn't
know last night."

"I don't think we need trouble about that, Adam. There is so much we do
not understand. This is only another mystery. Suffice it that she does
know--perhaps it is all the better and safer for us."

"How is that?" asked Adam with a puzzled look.

"General process of reasoning, my boy; and the experience of some years
in the diplomatic world. This creature is a monster without heart or
consideration for anything or anyone. She is not nearly so dangerous in
the open as when she has the dark to protect her. Besides, we know, by
our own experience of her movements, that for some reason she shuns
publicity. In spite of her vast bulk and abnormal strength, she is
afraid to attack openly. After all, she is only a snake and with a
snake's nature, which is to keep low and squirm, and proceed by stealth
and cunning. She will never attack when she can run away, although she
knows well that running away would probably be fatal to her. What is the
letter about?"

Sir Nathaniel's voice was calm and self-possessed. When he was engaged
in any struggle of wits he was all diplomatist.

"She asks Mimi and me to tea this afternoon at Diana's Grove, and hopes
that you also will favour her."

Sir Nathaniel smiled.

"Please ask Mrs. Salton to accept for us all."

"She means some deadly mischief. Surely--surely it would be wiser not."

"It is an old trick that we learn early in diplomacy, Adam--to fight on
ground of your own choice. It is true that she suggested the place on
this occasion; but by accepting it we make it ours. Moreover, she will
not be able to understand our reason for doing so, and her own bad
conscience--if she has any, bad or good--and her own fears and doubts
will play our game for us. No, my dear boy, let us accept, by all
means."

Adam said nothing, but silently held out his hand, which his companion
shook: no words were necessary.

When it was getting near tea-time, Mimi asked Sir Nathaniel how they were
going.

"We must make a point of going in state. We want all possible
publicity." Mimi looked at him inquiringly. "Certainly, my dear, in the
present circumstances publicity is a part of safety. Do not be surprised
if, whilst we are at Diana's Grove, occasional messages come for you--for
all or any of us."

"I see!" said Mrs. Salton. "You are taking no chances."

"None, my dear. All I have learned at foreign courts, and amongst
civilised and uncivilised people, is going to be utilised within the next
couple of hours."

Sir Nathaniel's voice was full of seriousness, and it brought to Mimi in
a convincing way the awful gravity of the occasion.

In due course, they set out in a carriage drawn by a fine pair of horses,
who soon devoured the few miles of their journey. Before they came to
the gate, Sir Nathaniel turned to Mimi.

"I have arranged with Adam certain signals which may be necessary if
certain eventualities occur. These need be nothing to do with you
directly. But bear in mind that if I ask you or Adam to do anything, do
not lose a second in the doing of it. We must try to pass off such
moments with an appearance of unconcern. In all probability, nothing
requiring such care will occur. The White Worm will not try force,
though she has so much of it to spare. Whatever she may attempt to-day,
of harm to any of us, will be in the way of secret plot. Some other time
she may try force, but--if I am able to judge such a thing--not to-day.
The messengers who may ask for any of us will not be witnesses only, they
may help to stave off danger." Seeing query in her face, he went on: "Of
what kind the danger may be, I know not, and cannot guess. It will
doubtless be some ordinary circumstance; but none the less dangerous on
that account. Here we are at the gate. Now, be careful in all matters,
however small. To keep your head is half the battle."