20 Must-Read Thriller Novels

1. AUGUST THE SEVENTEENTH

1. AUGUST THE SEVENTEENTHThe time of day was four o'clock in the afternoon. The place was

the lady's study or boudoir, Knapwater House. The person was Miss

Aldclyffe sitting there alone, clothed in deep mourning.

The funeral of the old Captain had taken place, and his will had

been read. It was very concise, and had been executed about five

years previous to his death. It was attested by his solicitors,

Messrs. Nyttleton and Tayling, of Lincoln's Inn Fields. The whole

of his estate, real and personal, was bequeathed to his daughter

Cytherea, for her sole and absolute use, subject only to the

payment of a legacy to the rector, their relative, and a few small

amounts to the servants.

Miss Aldclyffe had not chosen the easiest chair of her boudoir

to sit in, or even a chair of ordinary comfort, but an

uncomfortable, high, narrow-backed, oak framed and seated chair,

which was allowed to remain in the room only on the ground of being

a companion in artistic quaintness to an old coffer beside it, and

was never used except to stand in to reach for a book from the

highest row of shelves. But she had sat erect in this chair for

more than an hour, for the reason that she was utterly unconscious

of what her actions and bodily feelings were. The chair had stood

nearest her path on entering the room, and she had gone to it in a

dream.

She sat in the attitude which denotes unflagging, intense,

concentrated thought—as if she were cast in bronze. Her feet were

together, her body bent a little forward, and quite unsupported by

the back of the chair; her hands on her knees, her eyes fixed

intently on the corner of a footstool.

At last she moved and tapped her fingers upon the table at her

side. Her pent-up ideas had finally found some channel to advance

in. Motions became more and more frequent as she laboured to carry

further and further the problem which occupied her brain. She sat

back and drew a long breath: she sat sideways and leant her

forehead upon her hand. Later still she arose, walked up and down

the room—at first abstractedly, with her features as firmly set as

ever; but by degrees her brow relaxed, her footsteps became lighter

and more leisurely; her head rode gracefully and was no longer

bowed. She plumed herself like a swan after exertion.

'Yes,' she said aloud. 'To get him here

without letting him know that I have any other object than that of

getting a useful man—that's the difficulty—and that I think I can

master.'

She rang for the new maid, a placid woman of forty with a few

grey hairs.

'Ask Miss Graye if she can come to me.'

Cytherea was not far off, and came in.

'Do you know anything about architects and surveyors?' said Miss

Aldclyffe abruptly.

'Know anything?' replied Cytherea, poising herself on her toe to

consider the compass of the question.

'Yes—know anything,' said Miss Aldclyffe.

'Owen is an architect and surveyor's draughtsman,' the maiden

said, and thought of somebody else who was likewise.

'Yes! that's why I asked you. What are the different kinds of

work comprised in an architect's practice? They lay out estates,

and superintend the various works done upon them, I should think,

among other things?'

'Those are, more properly, a land or building steward's

duties—at least I have always imagined so. Country architects

include those things in their practice; city architects don't.'

'I know that, child. But a steward's is an indefinite fast and

loose profession, it seems to me. Shouldn't you think that a man

who had been brought up as an architect would do for a

steward?'

Cytherea had doubts whether an architect pure would do.

The chief pleasure connected with asking an opinion lies in not

adopting it. Miss Aldclyffe replied decisively—

'Nonsense; of course he would. Your brother Owen makes plans for

country buildings—such as cottages, stables, homesteads, and so

on?'

'Yes; he does.'

'And superintends the building of them?'

'Yes; he will soon.'

'And he surveys land?'

'O yes.'

'And he knows about hedges and ditches—how wide they ought to

be, boundaries, levelling, planting trees to keep away the winds,

measuring timber, houses for ninety-nine years, and such

things?'

'I have never heard him say that; but I think Mr. Gradfield does

those things. Owen, I am afraid, is inexperienced as yet.'

'Yes; your brother is not old enough for such a post yet, of

course. And then there are rent-days, the audit and winding up of

tradesmen's accounts. I am afraid, Cytherea, you don't know much

more about the matter than I do myself… . I am going out just now,'

she continued. 'I shall not want you to walk with me to-day. Run

away till dinner-time.'

Miss Aldclyffe went out of doors, and down the steps to the

lawn: then turning to the left, through a shrubbery, she opened a

wicket and passed into a neglected and leafy carriage-drive,

leading down the hill. This she followed till she reached the point

of its greatest depression, which was also the lowest ground in the

whole grove.

The trees here were so interlaced, and hung their branches so

near the ground, that a whole summer's day was scarcely long enough

to change the air pervading the spot from its normal state of

coolness to even a temporary warmth. The unvarying freshness was

helped by the nearness of the ground to the level of the springs,

and by the presence of a deep, sluggish stream close by, equally

well shaded by bushes and a high wall. Following the road, which

now ran along at the margin of the stream, she came to an opening

in the wall, on the other side of the water, revealing a large

rectangular nook from which the stream proceeded, covered with

froth, and accompanied by a dull roar. Two more steps, and she was

opposite the nook, in full view of the cascade forming its further

boundary. Over the top could be seen the bright outer sky in the

form of a crescent, caused by the curve of a bridge across the

rapids, and the trees above.

Beautiful as was the scene she did not look in that direction.

The same standing-ground afforded another prospect, straight in the

front, less sombre than the water on the right or the trees all

around. The avenue and grove which flanked it abruptly terminated a

few yards ahead, where the ground began to rise, and on the remote

edge of the greensward thus laid open, stood all that remained of

the original manor-house, to which the dark margin-line of the

trees in the avenue formed an adequate and well-fitting frame. It

was the picture thus presented that was now interesting Miss

Aldclyffe—not artistically or historically, but practically—as

regarded its fitness for adaptation to modern requirements.

In front, detached from everything else, rose the most ancient

portion of the structure—an old arched gateway, flanked by the

bases of two small towers, and nearly covered with creepers, which

had clambered over the eaves of the sinking roof, and up the gable

to the crest of the Aldclyffe family perched on the apex. Behind

this, at a distance of ten or twenty yards, came the only portion

of the main building that still existed—an Elizabethan fragment,

consisting of as much as could be contained under three gables and

a cross roof behind. Against the wall could be seen ragged lines

indicating the form of other destroyed gables which had once joined

it there. The mullioned and transomed windows, containing five or

six lights, were mostly bricked up to the extent of two or three,

and the remaining portion fitted with cottage window-frames

carelessly inserted, to suit the purpose to which the old place was

now applied, it being partitioned out into small rooms downstairs

to form cottages for two labourers and their families; the upper

portion was arranged as a storehouse for divers kinds of roots and

fruit.

The owner of the picturesque spot, after her survey from this

point, went up to the walls and walked into the old court, where

the paving-stones were pushed sideways and upwards by the thrust of

the grasses between them. Two or three little children, with their

fingers in their mouths, came out to look at her, and then ran in

to tell their mothers in loud tones of secrecy that Miss Aldclyffe

was coming. Miss Aldclyffe, however, did not come in. She concluded

her survey of the exterior by making a complete circuit of the

building; then turned into a nook a short distance off where round

and square timber, a saw-pit, planks, grindstones, heaps of

building stone and brick, explained that the spot was the centre of

operations for the building work done on the estate.

She paused, and looked around. A man who had seen her from the

window of the workshops behind, came out and respectfully lifted

his hat to her. It was the first time she had been seen walking

outside the house since her father's death.

'Strooden, could the Old House be made a decent residence of,

without much trouble?' she inquired.

The mechanic considered, and spoke as each consideration

completed itself.

'You don't forget, ma'am, that two-thirds of the place is

already pulled down, or gone to ruin?'

'Yes; I know.'

'And that what's left may almost as well be, ma'am.'

'Why may it?'

''Twas so cut up inside when they made it into cottages, that

the whole carcase is full of cracks.'

'Still by pulling down the inserted partitions, and adding a

little outside, it could be made to answer the purpose of an

ordinary six or eight-roomed house?'

'Yes, ma'am.'

'About what would it cost?' was the question which had

invariably come next in every communication of this kind to which

the superintending workman had been a party during his whole

experience. To his surprise, Miss Aldclyffe did not put it. The man

thought her object in altering an old house must have been an

unusually absorbing one not to prompt what was so instinctive in

owners as hardly to require any prompting at all.

'Thank you: that's sufficient, Strooden,' she said. 'You will

understand that it is not unlikely some alteration may be made here

in a short time, with reference to the management of the

affairs.'

Strooden said 'Yes,' in a complex voice, and looked uneasy.

'During the life of Captain Aldclyffe, with you as the foreman

of works, and he himself as his own steward, everything worked

well. But now it may be necessary to have a steward, whose

management will encroach further upon things which have hitherto

been left in your hands than did your late master's. What I mean

is, that he will directly and in detail superintend all.'

'Then—I shall not be wanted, ma'am?' he faltered.

'O yes; if you like to stay on as foreman in the yard and

workshops only. I should be sorry to lose you. However, you had

better consider. I will send for you in a few days.'

Leaving him to suspense, and all the ills that came in its

train—distracted application to his duties, and an undefined number

of sleepless nights and untasted dinners, Miss Aldclyffe looked at

her watch and returned to the House. She was about to keep an

appointment with her solicitor, Mr. Nyttleton, who had been to

Budmouth, and was coming to Knapwater on his way back to

London.