Short Fiction

printed map of the world with more indifference than he gazed upon the magnificent panorama which surrounded Castle Lochiel. “Of course I shall come out of all this very badly,” he thought to himself as he leaned out. “Everything will look very black against me, and how in Heaven’s name I’m to float along is more than I can tell. Still if I could only know that no harm had come to her through me it would be a sort of consolation after all⁠—” His soliloquy was cut short by the sudden shutting of the heavy oak door behind him with a loud bang. “Ah!” he thought, “it was my opening the window⁠—strange, too, I didn’t feel a current.” His amazement, however, was increased when he heard the creak of the key in the lock and realised that he was locked in. At first he imagined it must be one of the servants in passing, who, seeing the door open and not knowing he was there, had pulled it to and locked it. Then as he began to think over the strangeness of the whole affair it suddenly flashed across his mind that for some purpose or other he had been literally trapped and caged. His anger knew no bounds; at first he stamped, called vehemently, shook the door and beat it violently with anything and everything that came to hand⁠—an old chair till it split in two, and a rotten violin till that too succumbed to the strength of the oak. Then as it occurred to him that whoever had shut him in was probably at hand to enjoy his discomfiture and anger, he subsided a little and took a calm survey of the situation. Were there any means of escape by the window? and again he leaned out, and this time with still less inclination to enjoy the landscape. No, not even a ledge; it was just a little jutting square room built out from the castle parapet, nothing above it save a turret with some ornamental slits, nothing beneath till one came to the castle grounds a hundred feet or so below.

“Well, I suppose there is nothing for it but to grin and bear it,” he said to himself, feeling for his cigar-case as he spoke. But alas! even that consolation was to be denied him, for the cigar-case was comfortably reposing in the pocket of his overcoat, left behind at Ardvaroch in his hurried departure that morning.

“And this is the only satisfaction I have had out of the whole affair,” said Aunt Rosamond to her sister as she laid the big key upon the table in her dressing-room. “I haven’t enjoyed anything so much since I was a child and caught a big ugly spider which had trapped ever so many butterflies, and put him in a scent-bottle and corked him down. I feel now as if I had caught the biggest and ugliest spider that ever was, and I don’t think he’ll be in a hurry to spin his webs again!”

Then the old lady called for her writing materials, and penned a short note to Lady Elizabeth Mackreth, begging her to excuse the absence of herself and sister for the day, and asking her to suspend all judgment upon the oddity of her proceedings until the return of Dr. Herron in the evening, when everything would be satisfactorily explained.

Lady Elizabeth showed the note to her brother.

“Really,” she said, “I think a little explanation is due to us.”

“My dear Elizabeth,” said Lord Lochiel, “I have had more than half an explanation already from Dr. Herron, and if I had known the young lady’s affections were so far engaged I would not have pressed my attentions upon her as I did; and after all, as you said yesterday, she is very young for a man at my time of life, and, with settled tastes and pursuits such as mine, matrimony is not the absolute necessity it would be to a younger man.”

And as evening drew near Aunt Rosamond began to have some misgivings as to the imprisonment of Captain Ivie.

“I think we had better let him out,” she said to her sister. “I think if we can get him away from the castle before Dr. Herron comes back it would be as well. You see if Dr. Herron tries to thrash him he may object, and perhaps there will be murder done, and Lettice’s name will be brought in again, and there’ll be more fuss than there’s been already.”

So she gave Matthews the key and desired her to tell Captain McCormack that Miss Tremarten had sent her to let him out.

Matthews took the key with much misgiving at heart.

“Perhaps he’ll knock me down when he comes out,” thought the old body; “and the key’s mighty heavy to turn; maybe ’twill break in the lock.”

Matthews couldn’t hear a sound as she listened outside the door of the observatory, for Captain Ivie had by this time subsided into something of dullness and apathy.

At the first creak, however, of the key in the lock he roused up. “Who the ⸻’s at the door?” he roared, introducing a strong noun.

“Now don’t, there’s a good soul,” said poor old Matthews, “or you’ll make me tremble so I won’t be able to turn the key.”

“Take both hands,” shouted the captain, “and do it quickly, or else by Heaven⁠—”

“Now don’t,” said Matthews. “I’m shaking so already I don’t know what to do with myself.”

“There, don’t shake,” said Captain Ivie, fearing lest his liberator might be panic-stricken and take flight. “I’d give you a sovereign not to shake if I could get at you.”

“Put it under the door,” said Matthews.

Ivie did so, and Matthews somehow found strength and courage to turn the key.

“Miss Tremarten’s compliments, sir, and she sent me up to let you out, for she thought you’d been locked in long enough,” said Matthews, trembling.

“Where is Lord Lochiel?” asked Ivie. “They shall answer for this.”

“In the drawing-room with the ladies,” answered Matthews, glad