I had scarcely heard all that John had said, and had certainly not been
able to take in its import; but without waiting to hear if I should say
anything, he moved across to the uncovered stone with the ring in it. Exerting a strength which I should have believed entirely impossible in
his weak condition, he applied to the stone a lever which lay ready at
hand. Raffaelle at the same time seized the ring, and so they were able
between them to move the covering to one side sufficiently to allow
access to a small staircase which thus appeared to view. The stair
was a winding one, and once led no doubt to some vaults below the
ground-floor. Raffaelle descended first, taking in his hand the sconce
of three candles, which he held above his head so as to fling a light
down the steps. John went next, and then I followed, trying to support
my brother if possible with my hand. The stairs were very dry, and
on the walls there was none of the damp or mould which fancy usually
associates with a subterraneous vault. I do not know what it was I
expected to see, but I had an uneasy feeling that I was on the brink of
some evil and distressing discovery. After we had descended about twenty
steps we could see the entry to some vault or underground room, and it
was just at the foot of the stairs that I saw something lying, as the
light from the candles fell on it from above. At first I thought it was
a heap of dust or refuse, but on looking closer it seemed rather a
bundle of rags. As my eyes penetrated the gloom, I saw there was about
it some tattered cloth of a faded green tint, and almost at the same
minute I seemed to trace under the clothes the lines or dimensions of a
human figure. For a moment I imagined it was some poor man lying face
downwards and bent up against the wall. The idea of a man or of a dead
body being there shocked me violently, and I cried to my brother, "Tell
me, what is it?" At that instant the light from. Raffaelle's candles
fell in a somewhat different direction. It lighted up the white bowl
of a human skull, and I saw that what I had taken for a man's form was
instead that of a clothed skeleton. I turned faint and sick for an
instant, and should have fallen had it not been for John, who put his
arm about me and sustained me with an unexpected strength. "God help us!" I exclaimed, "let us go. I cannot bear this; there are
foul vapours here; let us get back to the outer air." He took me by the arm, and pointing at the huddled heap, said, "Do you
know whose bones those are? That is Adrian Temple. After it was all
over, they flung his body down the steps, dressed in the clothes he
wore." At that name, uttered in so ill-omened a place, I felt a fresh access of
terror. It seemed as though the soul of that wicked man must be still
hovering over his unburied remains, and boding evil to us all. A chill
crept over me, the light, the walls, my brother, and Raffaelle all swam
round, and I sank swooning on the stairs. When I returned fully to my senses we were in the landau again making
our way back to the Villa de Angelis. CHAPTER XV


The next morning my health and strength were entirely restored to me,
but my brother, on the contrary, seemed weak and exhausted from his
efforts of the previous night. Our return journey to the Villa de
Angelis had passed in complete silence. I had been too much perturbed
to question him on the many points relating to the strange events as to
which I was still completely in the dark, and he on his side had shown
no desire to afford me any further information. When I saw him the next
morning he exhibited signs of great weakness, and in response to an
effort on my part to obtain some explanation of the discovery of Adrian
Temple's body, avoided an immediate reply, promising to tell me all he
knew after our return to Worth Maltravers. I pondered over the last terrifying episode very frequently in my own
mind, and as I thought more deeply of it all, it seemed to me that the
outlines of some evil history were piece by piece developing themselves,
that I had almost within my grasp the clue that would make all plain,
and that had eluded me so long. In that dim story Adrian Temple, the
music of the _Gagliarda_, my brother's fatal passion for the violin,
all seemed to have some mysterious connection, and to have conspired in
working John's mental and physical ruin. Even the Stradivarius violin
bore a part in the tragedy, becoming, as it were, an actively malignant
spirit, though I could not explain how, and was yet entirely unaware of
the manner in which it had come into my brother's possession. I found that John was still resolved on an immediate return to England. His weakness, it is true, led me to entertain doubts as to how he would
support so long a journey; but at the same time I did not feel justified
in using any strong efforts to dissuade him from his purpose. I
reflected that the more wholesome air and associations of England would
certainly re-invigorate both body and mind, and that any extra strain
brought about by the journey would soon be repaired by the comforts and
watchful care with which we could surround him at Worth Maltravers. So the first week in October saw us once more with our faces set towards
England. A very comfortable swinging-bed or hammock had been arranged
for John in the travelling carriage, and we determined to avoid fatigue
as much as possible by dividing our journey into very short stages. My
brother seemed to have no intention of giving up the Villa de Angelis. It was left complete with its luxurious furniture, and with all his
servants, under the care of an Italian _maggior-duomo_. I felt that as
John's state of health forbade his entertaining any hope of an immediate
return thither, it would have been much better to close entirely his
Italian house. But his great weakness made it impossible for him to
undertake the effort such a course would involve, and even if my own
ignorance of the Italian tongue had not stood in the way, I was far too
eager to get my invalid back to Worth to feel inclined to import any
further delay, while I should myself adjust matters which were after all
comparatively trifling. As Parnham was now ready to discharge his usual
duties of valet, and as my brother seemed quite content that he should
do so, Raffaelle was of course to be left behind. The boy had quite won
my heart by his sweet manners, combined with his evident affection to
his master, and in making him understand that he was now to leave us,
I offered him a present of a few pounds as a token of my esteem. He
refused, however, to touch this money, and shed tears when he learnt
that he was to be left in Italy, and begged with many protestations of
devotion that he might be allowed to accompany us to England. My heart
was not proof against his entreaties, supported by so many signs of
attachment, and it was agreed, therefore, that he should at least attend
us as far as Worth Maltravers.