The object, then, of the baron seemed to be to get this door open, if he
possibly could; but that was an object easier to be desired than carried
into effect, for, although he exerted his utmost power, he did not
succeed in moving it an inch, and he began evidently to think that it
would be impossible to do so. But yet he did not give up the attempt at once, but looking about upon
the beach, until he found a large heavy stone, he raised it in his arms,
and, approaching the door, he flung it against it with such tremendous
force, that it flew open instantly, disclosing within a dark and narrow
passage. Apparently rejoiced that he had accomplished this much, he stopped
cautiously within the entrance, and then, taking from a concealed pocket
that was in the velvet cloak which he wore a little box, he produced
from it some wax-lights and some chemical matches, which, by the
slightest effort, he succeeded in igniting, and then, with one of the
lights in his hand to guide him on his way, he went on exploring the
passage, and treading with extreme caution as he went, for fear of
falling into any of the ice-wells which were reported to be in that
place. After proceeding about twenty yards, and finding that there was no
danger, he became less cautious; but, in consequence of such less
caution, he very nearly sacrificed his life, for he came upon an
ice-well which seemed a considerable depth, and into which he had nearly
plunged headlong. He started back with some degree of horror; but that soon left him, and
then, after a moment's thought, he sought for some little nook in the
wall, in which he might place the candle, and soon finding one that
answered the purpose well, he there left it, having all the appearance
of a little shrine, while he proceeded again to the mouth of that
singular and cavernous-looking place. He had, evidently, quite made up
his mind what to do, for, without a moment's hesitation, he lifted the
body again, and carried it within the entrance, walking boldly and
firmly, now that he knew there was no danger between him and the light,
which shed a gleam through the darkness of the place of a very faint and
flickering character. He reached it rapidly, and when he got to the side of the well, he,
without a moment's hesitation, flung it headlong down, and, listening
attentively, he heard it fall with a slight plash, as if there was some
water at the bottom of the pit. It was an annoyance, however, for him to find that the distance was not
so deep as he had anticipated, and when he took the light from the niche
where he had placed it, and looked earnestly down, he could see the
livid, ghastly-looking face of the dead man, for the body had
accidentally fallen upon its back, which was a circumstance he had not
counted upon, and one which increased the chances greatly of its being
seen, should any one be exploring, from curiosity, that not very
inviting place. This was annoyance, but how could it be prevented, unless, indeed, he
chose to descend, and make an alteration in the disposition of the
corpse? But this was evidently what he did not choose to do; so, after
muttering to himself a few words expressive of his intention to leave it
where it was, he replaced the candle, after extinguishing it, in the box
from whence he had taken it, and carefully walked out of the dismal
place. The moonbeams were shining very brightly and beautifully upon the face
of the cliffs, when he emerged from the subterranean passage, so that he
could see the door, the steps, and every object quite distinctly; and,
to his gratification, he found that he had not destroyed any fastening
that was to the door, but that when it was slammed shut, it struck so
hard and fast, that the strength of one man could not possibly move it,
even the smallest fraction of an inch. "I shall be shown all this to-morrow," he said; "and if I take this
house I must have an alteration made in this door, so that it may open
with a lock, instead of by main violence, as at present; but if, in the
morning, when I view Anderbury House, I can avoid an entrance into this
region, I will do so, and at my leisure, if I become the possessor of
the estate, I can explore every nook and cranny of it." He then folded his cloak about him, after pulling the door as closely as
he could. He walked slowly and thoughtfully back to the inn. It was
quite evident that the idea of the murder he had committed did not annoy
him in the least, and that in his speculations upon the subject he
congratulated himself much upon having so far succeeded in getting rid
of certainly a most troublesome acquaintance. "'Tis well, indeed," he said, "that just at this juncture he should
throw himself in my way, and enable me so easy to feel certain that I
shall never more be troubled with him. Truly, I ran some risk, and when
my pistol missed fire, it seemed as if my evil star was in its
ascendant, and that I was doomed myself to become the victim of him whom
I have laid in so cold a grave. But I have been victorious, and I am
willing to accept the circumstance as an omen of the past--that my
fortunes are on the change. I think I shall be successful now, and with
the ample means which I now possess, surely, in this country, where gold
is loved so well, I shall be able to overcome all difficulties, and to
unite myself to some one, who--but no matter, her fate is an after
consideration." CHAPTER XCV. THE MARRIAGE IN THE BANNERWORTH FAMILY ARRANGED. [Illustration]

After the adventure of the doctor with regard to the picture about which
such an air of mystery and interest has been thrown, the Bannerworth
family began to give up all hopes of ever finding a clue to those
circumstances concerning which they would certainly have liked to have
known the truth, but of which it was not likely they would ever hear
anything more. Dr. Chillingworth now had no reserve, and when he had recovered
sufficiently to feel that he could converse without an effort, he took
an opportunity, while the whole of the family were present, to speak of
what had been his hopes and his expectations. "You are all aware," he said, "now, of the story of Marmaduke
Bannerworth, and what an excessively troublesome person he was, with all
deference, to you, Henry; first of all, as to spending all his money at
the gaming-table, and leaving his family destitute; and then, when he
did get a lump of money which might have done some good to those he left
behind him--hiding it somewhere where it could not be found at all, and
so leaving you all in great difficulty and distress, when you might have
been independent." "That's true enough, doctor," said Henry; "but you know the old
proverb,--that ill-gotten wealth never thrives; so that I don't regret
not finding this money, for I am sure we should have been none the
happier with it, and perhaps not so happy."