There was a pause of some moments, during which all the party appeared
to be employed with their own thoughts, and the whole were silent. "Do you think it was the same man who attacked you in the house that
obtained the picture?" at last inquired Henry Bannerworth. "I cannot say, but I think it most probable that it was the same;
indeed, the general appearance, as near as I could tell in the dark, was
the same; but what I look upon as much stronger is, the object appears
to be the same in both cases." "That is very true," said Henry Bannerworth--"very true; and I think it
more than probable myself. But come, doctor, you will require rest and
nursing after your dangers." CHAPTER XCIII. THE ALARM AT ANDERBURY.--THE SUSPICIONS OF THE BANNERWORTH FAMILY, AND
THE MYSTERIOUS COMMUNICATION. [Illustration]

About twenty miles to the southward of Bannerworth Hall was a good-sized
market-town, called Anderbury. It was an extensive and flourishing
place, and from the beauty of its situation, and its contiguity to the
southern coast of England, it was much admired; and, in consequence,
numerous mansions and villas of great pretension had sprang up in its
immediate neighbourhood. Betides, there were some estates of great value, and one of these,
called Anderbury-on-the-Mount, in consequence of the mansion itself,
which was of an immense extent, being built upon an eminence, was to be
let, or sold. This town of Anderbury was remarkable not only for the beauty of its
aspect, but likewise for the quiet serenity of its inhabitants, who were
a prosperous, thriving race, and depended very much upon their own
resources. There were some peculiar circumstances why Anderbury-on-the-Mount was to
let. It had been for a great number of years in possession of a family
of the name of Milltown, who had resided there in great comfort and
respectability, until an epidemic disorder broke out, first among the
servants, and then spreading to the junior branches of the family, and
from them to their seniors, produced such devastation, that in the
course of three weeks there was but one young man left of the whole
family, and he, by native vigour of constitution, had baffled the
disorder, and found himself alone in his ancestral halls, the last of
his race. Soon a settled melancholy took possession of him, and all that had
formerly delighted him now gave him pain, inasmuch as it brought to his
mind a host of recollections of the most agonising character. In vain was it that the surrounding gentry paid him every possible
attention, and endeavoured to do all that was in their power to
alleviate the unhappy circumstances in which he was placed. If he
smiled, it was in a sad sort, and that was very seldom; and at length he
announced his intention of leaving the neighbourhood, and seeking
abroad, and in change of scene, for that solace which he could not
expect to find in his ancestral home, after what had occurred within its
ancient walls. There was not a chamber but which reminded him of the past--there was
not a tree or a plant of any kind or description but which spoke to him
plainly of those who were now no more, and whose merry laughter had
within his own memory made that ancient place echo with glee, filling
the sunny air with the most gladsome shouts, such as come from the lips
of happy youth long before the world has robbed it of any of its romance
or its beauty. There was a general feeling of regret when this young man announced the
fact of his departure to a foreign land; for he was much respected, and
the known calamities which he had suffered, and the grief under which he
laboured, invested his character with a great and painful interest. An entertainment was given to him upon the eve of his departure, and on
the next day he was many miles from the place, and the estate of
Anderbury-on-the-Mount was understood to be sold or let. The old mansion had remained, then, for a year or two vacant, for it was
a place of too much magnitude, and required by far too expensive an
establishment to keep it going, to enable any person whose means were
not very large to think of having anything to do with it. So, therefore, it remained unlet, and wearing that gloomy aspect which a
large house, untenanted, so very quickly assumes. It was quite a melancholy thing to look upon it, and to think what it
must have once been, and what it might be still, compared to what it
actually was; and the inhabitants of the neighbourhood had made up their
minds that Anderbury-on-the-Mount would remain untenanted for many a
year to come, and, perhaps, ultimately fall into ruin and decay. But in this they were doomed to be disappointed, for, on the evening of
a dull and gloomy day, about one week after the events we have recorded
as taking place at Bannerworth Hall and its immediate neighbourhood, a
travelling carriage, with four horses and an out-rider, came dashing
into the place, and drew up at the principal inn in the town, which was
called the Anderbury Arms. The appearance of such an equipage, although not the most unusual thing
in the world, in consequence of the many aristocratic families who
resided in the neighbourhood, caused, at all events, some sensation,
and, perhaps, the more so because it drove up to the inn instead of to
any of the mansions of the neighbourhood, thereby showing that the
stranger, whoever he was, came not as a visitor, but either merely
baited in the town, being on his road somewhere else, or had some
special business in it which would soon be learned. The out-rider, who was in handsome livery, had gallopped on in advance
of the carriage a short distance, for the purpose of ordering the best
apartments in the inn to be immediately prepared for the reception of
his master. "Who is he?" asked the landlord. "It's the Baron Stolmuyer Saltsburgh." "Bless my heart, I never heard of him before; where did he come
from--somewhere abroad I suppose?" "I can't tell you anything of him further than that he is immensely
rich, and is looking for a house. He has heard that there is one to let
in this immediate neighbourhood, and that's what has brought him from
London, I suppose." "Yes, there is one; and it is called Anderbury-on-the-Mount." "Well, he will very likely speak to you about it himself, for here he
comes." By this time the carriage had halted at the door of the hotel, and, the
door being opened, and the steps lowered, there alighted from it a tall
man attired in a kind of pelisse, or cloak, trimmed with rich fur, the
body of it being composed of velvet. Upon his head he wore a travelling
cap, and his fingers, as he grasped the cloak around him, were seen to
be covered with rings of great value.