"If she is there, she is dead!" groaned Lyon Berners, in a voice of agony, as he thought of all Sybil had told him of the open vault and the mysterious figures that had pa.s.sed to and from it in the night, and which he had set down as so many dreams and nightmares, reverted to his memory. Oh, if this chapel were indeed the den of thieves; if they had some secret means of opening that vault; if they had come upon his sleeping wife while she was left alone in the chapel, and robbed her of the money and jewels she had about her person, and then murdered her, and taken her body down into the vault for concealment; or if, as was most likely, for there was no mark of violence or stain of blood about the place--they had taken her to the vault first, and robbed and murdered her there.

Oh, if these horrible fears should be realized!

With the very thought Lyon Berners went pale and cold as marble in an anguish such as he had never felt in the severest crisis of their sorely troubled lives.

"Joe!" he cried, "go search the wagon for that crowbar belonging to Captain Pendleton. It must be there somewhere. And I must break this vault door open, or break my heart-strings in the trial."

"The crowbar is all right, Marster. And I'll go and fetch it as fast as I can. But we'll nebber see Mistess alive again! Nebber, Marster, in this world!" sobbed Joe, as he arose from his knees near the door and went upon his errand.

Little Nelly renewed her pa.s.sionate demonstrations of distress and anxiety; now furiously barking and scratching at the door; now jumping upon her master's breast, and looking up into his face and whining, as if telling him that her mistress was down there, imploring his human aid to free her, and wondering why it was not given.

"I know it, my poor little dog! I know it all!" said Lyon, soothingly.

But little Nelly was incredulous and inconsolable, and continued her hysterical deportment through the half hour which intervened between the departure and the return of Joe.

"Ah, give me the tool!" eagerly exclaimed Mr. Berners, s.n.a.t.c.hing the crowbar from the negro, as soon as he saw him.

And he went and applied it with all his force to the door, straining his strong muscles until they knotted like cords, while Joe looked on in anxiety and suspense, and little Nelly stood approvingly wagging her tail, as if to say:

"Now, at last, you are doing the right thing."

But with all Lyon's straining and wrenching, he failed to move the impa.s.sable door one hair's breadth.

Joe also took a turn at the crowbar; but with no more success.

They rested a while, and then united their efforts, and with all their strength essayed to force the door; but without the slightest effect upon its immovable bars.

"I might have known we could not do it this way, for neither Pendleton nor myself could succeed in doing so. Joe, we must take down the altar and take up the flagstones; but that will be a work of time and difficulty, and you will have to go back home and bring the proper tools."

"But the day is most gone, Marster, and it will take me most all night to go to Black Hall and get the tools and come back here. And is my poor mistress to stay down there into that dismal place all that time?"

sobbed the negro.

"Joe! if she is there, as the little dog insists that she is, you know that she must be dead. And it is her body that we are seeking," groaned Lyon Berners, in despair.

"I knows it, Marster--I knows it too well; but I can't feel as it is true, all de same. And oh! even to leave her dear body there so long!"

said Joe, bursting into a storm of tears and sobs.

"That cannot be helped, my poor fellow. Besides, I shall sit at this door and watch till your return, and we can work down into the vault.

She shall not be quite alone, Joe."

So persuaded, Joe, unmindful of fatigue, once more set out for Black Hall. But on this occasion he took another horse, which was fresher. The sun had now set, and the short winter twilight was darkening into night.

CHAPTER III.

THE EXPLOSION.

There came a burst of thunder sound!--HEMANS.

Lyon Berners, chilled to the heart with the coldness of the night, half famished for want of food, and wearied with his late violent exertions, and wishing to recruit his strength for the next day's hard work, kindled a fire, and made some coffee, and forced himself to eat and drink a little, before he drew his mattress to the door of the vault, and stretched himself down as near as he could possibly get to the place where he believed the dead body of his beloved wife lay.

Poor little Nelly, abandoning her efforts either from exhaustion or in despair, crept up and tried to squeeze herself between her master and the door of the vault that she too thought held her mistress. Lyon made room for her to curl herself up by his side, and he caressed her soft fur, while he waked and watched.

It was now utterly dark in the chapel but for the dull red glow of the fire, which was dying out. An hour pa.s.sed by, and the last spark expired, and the chapel was left in total darkness.

The agonies of that night who shall tell? They were extreme--they seemed interminable.

At length the slow morning dawned. Lyon arose with the sun, and walked about the chapel in the restlessness of mental anguish. The little dog followed at his heels, whining. Presently Lyon took up the crowbar and tried again to force the iron door. He might as well have tried to move a mountain. He threw away the crowbar in desperation, and then he stooped and peered through the iron bars: all dark! all still in those dismal depths! He turned away and rekindled the fire, and prepared a little breakfast for himself and his dumb companion. He must cherish his strength for the work that was before him.

After having eaten a morsel, and given his dog food, he signalled to her to lie down at the door of the vault and watch, while he went out towards the thicket to look for Joe, who might now soon be expected.

He went through the church-yard, and on to the entrance of the thicket path; he even pursued that path until it led him out upon the river road. He looked down the road for miles, but saw no sign of Joe!

Then, not wishing longer to leave the spot where the body of his murdered wife was supposed to lie unburied, he went back through thicket and graveyard to the chapel, where at the door of the vault the faithful little Skye terrier still watched.

He entered and threw himself down beside her, there to wait for the return of his messenger.

But ah! this was destined to be a day of weary, weary waiting! The morning advanced towards noon, and still Joe did not appear. Lyon arose and walked restlessly about the chapel, stopping sometimes to peer down into the vault, where nothing could be seen, or to call down where nothing could be heard, or he took up the crowbar again, and renewed his frantic efforts to force the iron door that nothing could move.

Noon pa.s.sed; afternoon advanced.

"Something has happened to Joe," said the desperate man to himself, as once more he started out in the forlorn hope of meeting his messenger.

Again the weary way was traversed; again he went through the church-yard and thicket, and came out upon the long river road, and strained his gaze far along its length, but without seeing signs of the negro's approach.

"Yes; some accident has befallen Joe. All goes wrong, all is fatal, all is doomed!" He groaned in despair as he turned and retraced his steps towards the old "Haunted Chapel." As he drew near the building, he was startled by the furious barking of his little dog.

"Poor little Nelly has worked herself up into hysterics again at the door of that vault," he said to himself, as he quickened his pace and entered the building.

He found it in the possession of the constables, with the sheriff at their head. Mr. Benthwick, with an expression on his face oddly made up of triumph and compa.s.sion, advanced to meet him, saying:

"We are not at fault now, Mr. Berners. We returned to-day to resume our search through these mountains, and late this afternoon, as we were returning from our unsuccessful pursuit of the burglars, we were met here in the churchyard by these men."

And here the sheriff pointed to Purley and Munson, who were standing at a short distance.

"They told us," proceeded Mr. Benthwick, "that Mrs. Berners, with your a.s.sistance, had escaped from their custody."

"Right over my dead body, which I should say, my sleeping body," put in Purley.

"And that she was certainly concealed in this chapel, as they had received unquestionable information to that effect," added Mr.

Benthwick.

"Well, sir, if you find her here, you will succeed in the search far better than I have done," replied Lyon Berners, grimly.

"We have found _you_ here, and under very suspicious circ.u.mstances; so we will take leave to make a more thorough search than we did yesterday,"