Beaumaroy Home from the Wars Page 15

  CHAPTER XV

  A NORMAL CASE

  When Captain Alec brought his fiancee home after the dinner of welcomeand congratulation at Old Place, it was nearly twelve o'clock. Jeanne,however--in these days a radiant Jeanne, very different from themournful creature who had accompanied Captain Cranster's victim toInkston a few weeks before--was sitting up for her mistress, and sinceshe had to perform this duty--which was sweetened by the hope ofreceiving exciting confidences; for surely that affair was"marching"?--it had been agreed between her and the other maids that sheshould sit up for the doctor also. She told the lovers that Doctor Maryhad been called for by Mr. Beaumaroy, and had gone out with himpresumably to visit his friend Mr. Saffron. It did not occur to eitherof them to ask when Mary had set out; they contented themselves withexchanging a glance of disapproval. What a pity that Mary should haveanything more to do with this Mr. Saffron and his Beaumaroy!

  However there was a bright side to it this time. It would be kind ofCynthia to sit up for Mary and minister to her a cup of tea, whichJeanne should prepare; and it would be pleasant--and quitepermissible--for Captain Alec to bear her company. Mary could not belong, surely; it grew late.

  So for a while they thought no more of Mary--as was natural enough. Theyhad so much to talk about, the whole of a new and very wonderful life tospeculate about and to plan, the whole of their past acquaintance toreview; old doubts had to be confessed and laughed at; the inevitabilityof the whole thing from the first beginnings had to be recognized,proved, and exhibited. In this sweet discourse the minutes flew byunmarked, and would have gone on flying, had not Jeanne reappeared ofher own accord, to remark that it really was very late now; didmademoiselle think that possibly anything could have happened to DoctorArkroyd?

  "By Jove, it is late!" cried the Captain, looking at his watch. "It'spast one!"

  Cynthia was amazed to hear that.

  "He must be very ill, that old gentleman," Jeanne opined. "And poorDoctor Arkroyd will be very tired. She will find the walk across theheath very fatiguing."

  "Walk, Jeanne? Didn't she take the car?" cried Cynthia, surprised.

  No, the doctor had not taken the car; she had started to walk with Mr.Beaumaroy; the parlourmaid had certainly told Jeanne that.

  "I tell you what," said the Captain. "I'll just tool along to TowerCottage. I'll look out for Doctor Mary on the road, and give her a liftback if I meet her. If I don't, I can stop at the cottage and getBeaumaroy to tell her that I'm there, and can wait to bring her home assoon as she's ready. You'd better go to bed, Cynthia."

  Jeanne tactfully disappeared, and the lovers said good-night. AfterAlec's departure, Jeanne received the anticipated confidence.

  That departure almost synchronized with two events at Tower Cottage. Thefirst was Beaumaroy's exit from the front door, leaving Mary in chargeof his prisoner who, consequently, was unable to keep any watch on theroad or to warn his principals of approaching danger. The second was bigNeddy's declaration that, in his opinion, the sack now held about asmuch as he could carry. He raised it from the floor in his two hands."Must weigh a 'undred pound or more!" he reckoned. That meant a lot ofmoney, a fat lot of money. His terrors had begun to wear off, sincenothing of a supernatural or even creepy order had actually happened. Hehad, at last, even agreed to the candles being put out. Still he wouldbe glad to be off. "Enough's as good as a feast, as the sayin' goes,Mike," he chuckled.

  Mike had fitted a new battery into his torch. It shone brightly on Neddyand on the sack, whose mouth Neddy was now tying up. "I might fill mypockets too," he suggested, eyeing the very respectable amount ofsovereigns which still remained in Captain Duggle's tomb.

  "Don't do it, old lad," Neddy advised. "If we 'ave to get out, oranything of that kind, you don't want to jingle as if you was a glasschandelier, do you?"

  Mike admitted the cogency of the objection, and they agreed to be off.Mike started for the window. "I'll just pick up the Sergeant," he said,"and signal you 'All clear.' Then you follow out."

  "No, Mike," said Neddy slowly, but very decisively. "If you don't mind,it's going to be me as gets out of that window first. I ain't a man ofyour eddication, and--well, blast me if I'm going to be left in thisplace alone with--that there!" He motioned with his head, back over hisshoulder, towards where silent Mr. Saffron sat.

  "You're a blooming ass, Neddy, but have it your own way. Only let me seethe coast's clear first."

  He stole to the window and looked around. He assumed that the Sergeantwas at his post, but all the same he wanted to have a look at the roadhimself. So he had, and the result was satisfactory. It was hardly to beexpected that he should scrutinize the ground immediately under thewindow; at any rate he did not think of that. It was, as Beaumaroy hadconjectured, from another direction--from the parlour--that heanticipated a possible attack. There all was quiet. He came back andreported to Neddy that the moment was favourable. "I'll switch off thetorch, though--just in case. You can feel your way; keep to the edge ofthe steps; don't knock up against----"

  "I'll take damned good care not to!" muttered Neddy, with a littleshiver.

  He made his way to the window, through the darkness, having slung hissack over his shoulder and holding it with his right hand, while withthe left he guided himself up the dais and along its outside edge,giving as wide a berth as possible to the great chair and its encirclingcanopy. With a sigh of relief he found the window, moved the sack fromhis shoulder, and set it on the ledge for a moment. But it was awkwardto get down from the window, holding that heavy sack. He lowered ittowards the ground, so that it might land gently, and, just as he let itgo, he turned his head back and whispered to Mike, "All serene. Get amove on!"

  "Half a minute!" answered Mike, as he in his turn set out to grope hisway to the window.

  But he was not so cautious as his friend had been. In his progress hekicked the tall footstool sharply with one of his feet. Neddy leant backfrom the window, asking quickly, and again very nervously, "What thedevil's that?"

  Beaumaroy could not resist the opportunity thus offered to him. He wascrouching on the ground, not exactly under the window, but just to theright of it. Neddy's face was turned away; he threw himself on to thebag, rose to his feet, raised it cautiously, and holding it in front ofhim with both his hands--its weight was fully as much as he couldmanage--was round the curve of the Tower, and out of sight with it in aninstant.

  At the back of the house there was a space of ground where Mrs. Wilesgrew a few vegetables for the household's use; it was a clearing madefrom the heath, but it was not enclosed. Beaumaroy was able to reach theback entrance, by which this patch of ground could be entered from thekitchen. Just by the kitchen door stood that useful thing, a butt forrainwater. It stood some three, or three and a half, feet high; and itwas full to the brim almost. With a fresh effort Beaumaroy raised thesack to the level of his breast. Then he lowered it into the water, notdropping it, for fear of a splash, but immersing both his arms above theelbow. Only when he felt the weight off them, as the sack touchedbottom, did he release his hold. Then with cautious steps he continuedhis progress round the house and, coming to the other side, crouchedclose by the wall again and waited. Where he was now, he could see thefence that separated the front garden from the road, and he was not morethan ten or twelve feet from the front door on his left. As he huddleddown here, he could not repress a smile of amusement, even ofself-congratulation. However he turned to the practical job of squeezingthe water out of his sleeves.

  In thus congratulating himself, he was premature. His action had beenbased on a miscalculation. He had heard only Neddy's last exclamation,not the cautious whispers previously exchanged between him and Mike; hethought that the man astride the window-sill himself had kickedsomething and instinctively exclaimed "What the devil's that?" Hethought that the sack was lowered from the window in order to becommitted to the temporary guardianship of the Sergeant, who wasdoubtless looking out for it and, if he had his ears open, would hearits gentle thud. Perhaps the
man in the Tower was collecting a secondinstalment of booty; heavy as the sack was, it did not contain all thathe knew to be in Captain Duggle's grave. Be that as it might, the manwould climb out of the window soon; and he would fail to find his sack.

  What would he do then? He would signal or call to the Sergeant; or, ifthey had a preconcerted rendezvous, he would betake himself there,expecting to find his accomplice. He would neither get an answer fromhim nor find him, of course. Equally of course he would look for him.But the last place where he would expect to find him--the last place hewould search--would be where the Sergeant in fact was, the house itself.If in his search for Hooper, he found Beaumaroy, it would be man to man,and, now again, Beaumaroy had no objection.

  But, in fact, there were two men in the Tower--one of them big Neddy;and the function, which Beaumaroy supposed to have been entrusted to theSergeant, had never been assigned to him at all; to guard the door andthe road had been his only tasks. When they found the bag gone, and theSergeant too, they might well think that the Sergeant had betrayed them;that he had gone off on his own account, or that he had, at the lastmoment, under an impulse of fear or a calculation of interest, changedsides and joined the garrison in the house. If he had gone off with thesack, he could not have gone fast or far with it. Failing to overtakehim, they would turn back to the cottage; for they knew themselves to bein superior force. Beaumaroy was in greater danger than he knew--and sowas Doctor Mary in the house.

  Big Neddy let himself down from the window, and put down his hand tolift up the sack; he groped about for it for some seconds, during whichtime Mike also climbed over the window-sill and dropped on to the groundbelow. Neddy emitted a low but strenuous oath.

  "The sack's gone, Mike!" he added in a whisper.

  "Gone? Rot! Can't be! What do you mean, Neddy?"

  "I dropped it straight 'ere. It's gone," Neddy persisted. "The Sergeantmust 'ave took it."

  "No business of his! Where is the fool?" Mike's voice was alreadyuneasy; thieves themselves seldom believe in there being honour amongthem. "You stay here. I'll go to the door and see if he's there."

  He was just about to put this purpose into execution--in which event itwas quite likely that Beaumaroy, hearing his approach or his call to theSergeant, would have sprung out upon him, only to find himself assailedthe next instant by another and far more formidable antagonist in theperson of big Neddy, and thus in sore peril of his life--when the hum ofCaptain Alec's engine became audible in the distance. The next moment,the lights of his car became visible to all the men in the little frontgarden of the cottage.

  "Hist! Wait till that's gone by!" whispered Neddy.

  "Yes, and get round to the back. Get out of sight round here." He drewNeddy round the curve of the Tower wall till his big frame was hidden byit; then he himself crouched down under the wall, with his headcautiously protruded. The night had grown clearer; it was possible tosee figures at a distance of some yards now.

  Beaumaroy also watched the car. Whose it was, and the explanation of itsappearance, even occurred to his mind. But he kept still. He did notwant visitors; he conceived his hand to be a better one than it reallywas, and preferred to play it by himself. If the car passed by, well andgood. Only if it stopped at the gate would he have to take action.

  It did stop at the gate. Mike saw it stop. Then its engine was shut off,and a man got out of it, and came up to the garden gate. Though thewatching Mike had never seen him before, he had little difficulty inguessing who he was; and he remembered something that the Sergeant hadsaid about him. Of a certainty it was the redoubtable Captain Naylor.Through the darkness he loomed enormous, as tall as big Neddy himselfand no whit less broad. A powerful reinforcement for the garrison!

  And what would the Sergeant do, if he were still at his post by thedoor--with or without that missing, that all-important, sack?

  Another tall figure came into Mike's view--from where he could notdistinctly see; it hardly seemed to be from the door of the cottage, forno light showed, and there was no sound of an opening door. But itappeared from somewhere near there; it was on the path, and it movedalong to the gate in a leisurely unhurried approach. A man with hishands in his pockets--that was what it looked like. This must be thegarrison; this must be the Sergeant's friend, master, protector, and_bete noire_, his "Boomery."

  But the Sergeant himself? Where was he? He could hardly be at his post;or Beaumaroy and he must have seen one another, must have taken someheed of one another; something must have passed between them, eitherfriendly or hostile. Mike turned round and whispered hastily, close intoNeddy's ear. Neddy crawled a little forward, and put his own bullet headfar enough round the curve of the wall to see the meeting between thegarrison and its unexpected reinforcement.

  Beaumaroy, hands in pockets, lounged nonchalantly down to the gate. Heopened it; the Captain entered. The two shook hands and stood there,apparently in conversation. The words did not reach the ears of thelisteners, but the sound of voices did--voices hushed in tone. OnceBeaumaroy pointed to the house; both Mike and Neddy marked theoutstretched hand. Was Beaumaroy telling his companion about somethingthat had been happening at the house? Were they concocting a plan ofdefence--or of attack? With the disappearance--perhaps the treachery--ofthe Sergeant, and the appearance of this new ally for the garrison, theprospects of a fight took on a very different look. Neddy might tacklethe big stranger with an equal chance. How would Mike fare in anencounter with Beaumaroy? He did not relish the idea of it.

  And, while they fought, the traitor Sergeant might be on their backs!Or--on the other hypothesis--he might be getting off with the swag!Neither alternative was satisfactory.

  "P'r'aps he's gone off to the car with the sack--in a fright like,thinking we'll guess that!" whispered Neddy.

  Mike did not much think so, though he would much have liked to. But hereceived the suggestion kindly. "We might as well have a look; we cancome back afterwards if--if we like. Perhaps that big brute'll havegone."

  "The thing as I want to do most is to wring that Sergeant's neck!"

  Their whispers were checked by a new development. The cottage dooropened for a moment and then closed again; they could tell that, both bythe sound and by the momentary ray of light. Yet a light persisted afterthe door was shut. It came from a candle, which burnt steadily in thestillness of the night. It was carried by a woman, who came down thepath towards where Beaumaroy and the Captain stood in conversation. Bothturned towards her with eager attention.

  "Now's our time, then! They aren't looking our way now. We can getacross the heath to where the car is."

  They moved on very softly, keeping the Tower between them and the groupon the path. They gained the back of the house, and so the open heath,and made off to their destination. They moved so softly that theyescaped unheard--unless Beaumaroy were right in the notion that his earcaught a little rustle of the bracken. He took no heed of it, unless apassing smile might be reckoned as such.

  Doctor Mary joined him and the Captain on the path. Beaumaroy's smilegave way to a look of expectant interest. He wondered what she was goingto say to Captain Alec. There was so much that she might say, or--justconceivably--leave unsaid.

  She spoke calmly and quietly. "It's you, Captain Alec! I thought so!Cynthia got anxious? I'm all right. I suppose Mr. Beaumaroy has toldyou? Poor Mr. Saffron is dead."

  "I've told him," said Beaumaroy.

  "Of heart disease," Mary added. "Quite painlessly, I think--and quite anormal case, though, of course, it's distressing."

  "I--I'm sorry," stammered Captain Alec.

  Beaumaroy's eyes met Mary's in the candle's light with a swift glance ofsurprise and inquiry.