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  CHAPTER VIII

  CAPTAIN ALEC RAISES HIS VOICE

  Beaumaroy led the way into the parlour, Captain Alec following. "Well, Ithought your old friend didn't care to see strangers," he said,continuing the conversation.

  "He was tired and fretful to-night, so I got him to bed, and gave him asoothing draught--one that our friend Dr. Arkroyd sent him. He went offlike a lamb, poor old boy. If we don't talk too loud we shan't disturbhim."

  "I can tell you what I have to tell in a few minutes."

  "Don't hurry." Beaumaroy was bringing the refreshment he had offeredfrom the sideboard. "I'm feeling lonely to-night, so I"--hesmiled--"yielded to the impulse to ask you to come in, Naylor. However,let's have the story by all means."

  The surprise--it might almost have been taken for alarm--which he hadshown at the first sight of Alec, seemed to have given place to a gentleand amiable weariness, which persisted through the recital of theCaptain's experiences--how his errand of courtesy, or gallantry, had ledto his being on the road across the heath so late at night, and of whathe had seen there.

  "You copped them properly!" Beaumaroy remarked at the end, with a lazysmile. "One does learn a trick or two in France. You couldn't see theirfaces, I suppose?"

  "No; too dark. I didn't dare show a light, though I had one. Besides,their backs were towards me. One looked tall and thin, the other shortand stumpy. But I should never be able to swear to either."

  "And they went off in different directions, you say?"

  "Yes, the tall one towards Sprotsfield, the short one back towardsInkston."

  "Oh, the short stumpy one it was who turned back to Inkston?" Beaumaroyhad seated himself on a low three-legged stool, opposite to the bigchair where Alec sat, and was smoking his pipe, his hands clasped roundhis knees. "It doesn't seem to me to come to much, though I'm muchobliged to you all the same. The short one's probably a local, the othera stranger, and the local was probably seeing his friend part of the wayhome, and incidentally showing him one of the sights of theneighbourhood. There are stories about this old den, you know--ancienttraditions. It's said to be haunted, and what not."

  "Funnily enough, we had the story to-night at dinner, at our house."

  "Had you now?" Beaumaroy looked up quickly. "What, all about----?"

  "Captain Duggle, and the Devil, and the grave, and all that."

  "Who told you the story?"

  "Old Mr. Penrose. Do you know him? Lives in High Street, near theIrechesters."

  "I think I know him by sight. So he entertained you with that old yarn,did he? And that same old yarn probably accounts for the nocturnalexamination which you saw going on. It was a little excitement for you,to reward you for your politeness to Miss Walford!"

  Alec flushed, but answered frankly: "I needed no reward for that." Hisfeelings got the better of him; he was very full of feelings that night,and wanted to be sympathized with. "Beaumaroy, do you know that girl'sstory?" Beaumaroy shook his head--and listened to it. Captain Alec endedon his old note: "To think of the scoundrel using the King's uniformlike that!"

  "Rotten! But--er--don't raise your voice." He pointed to the ceiling,smiling, and went on--without further comment on Cynthia'sill-usage--"I suppose you intend to stick to the army, Naylor?"

  "Yes, certainly I do."

  "I'm discharged. After I came out of hospital they gave me sickleave--and constantly renewed it; and when the armistice came they gaveme my discharge. They put it down to my wound, of course, but--well, Igathered the impression that I was considered no great loss." He hadfinished his pipe, and was now smiling reflectively.

  Captain Alec did not smile. Indeed he looked rather pained; he wasremembering General Punnit's story: military inefficiency--even militaryimperfection--was for him no smiling matter. Beaumaroy did not appear tonotice his disapproving gravity.

  "So I was at a loose end. I had sold up my business in Spain--I wasthere six or seven years, just as Captain--Captain----? Oh, Cranster,yes!--was in Bogota--when I joined up, and had no particular reason forgoing back there--and, incidentally, no money to go back with. So I tookon this job, which came to me quite accidentally. I went into aPiccadilly bar one evening, and found my old man there, rather excitedand declaiming a good deal of rot; seemed to have the war a bit on hisbrain. They started in to guy him, and I think one or two meant tohustle him, and perhaps take his money off him. I took his part, andthere was a bit of a shindy. In the end I saw him home to hislodgings--he had a room in London for the night--and--to cut a longstory short--we palled up, and he asked me to come and live with him. Sohere I am, and with me my Sancho Panza, the worthy ex-Sergeant Hooper.Perhaps I may be forgiven for impliedly comparing myself to Don Quixote,since that gentleman, besides his other characteristics, is generallyagreed to have been mad."

  "Your Sancho Panza's no beauty," remarked the Captain drily.

  "And no saint either. Kicked out of the Service, and done time. Thatbetween ourselves."

  "Then why the devil do you have the fellow about?"

  "Beggars mustn't be choosers. Besides, I've a _penchant_ for failures."

  That was what General Punnit had said! Alec Naylor grew impatient."That's the very spirit we have to fight against!" he exclaimed, ratherhotly.

  "Forgive me, but--please--don't raise your voice."

  Alec lowered his voice--for a moment anyhow--but the central article ofhis creed was assailed, and he grew vehement. "It's fatal; it's at theroot of all our troubles. Allow for failures in individuals, and youproduce failure all round. It's tenderness to defaulters that wrecksdiscipline. I would have strict justice, but no mercy--not a shadow ofit!"

  "But you said that day, at your place, that the war had made youtender-hearted."

  "Yes, I did--and it's true. Is it hard-hearted to refuse to let aslacker cost good men their lives? Much better take his, if it's got tobe one or the other."

  "A cogent argument. But, my dear Naylor, I wish you wouldn't raise yourvoice."

  "Damn my voice!" said Alec, most vexatiously interrupted just as he hadgot into his stride. "You say things that I can't and won't let pass,and----"

  "I really wouldn't have asked you in, if I'd thought you'd raise yourvoice."

  Alec recollected himself. "My dear fellow, a thousand pardons! I forgot!The old gentleman----?"

  "Exactly. But I'm afraid the mischief's done. Listen!" Again he pointedto the ceiling, but his eyes set on Captain Alec with a queer, rueful,humorous expression. "I was an ass to ask you in. But I'm no good atit--that's the fact. I'm always giving the show away!" he grumbled, halfto himself, but not inaudibly.

  Alec stared at him for a moment in puzzle, but the next instant hisattention was diverted. Another voice besides his was raised; the soundof it came through the ceiling from the room above; the words were notaudible; the volubility of the utterance in itself went far to preventthem from being distinguishable; but the high, vibrant, metallic tonesrang through the house. It was a rush of noise--sharp gratingnoise--without a meaning. The effect was weird, very uncomfortable. AlecNaylor knit his brows, and once gave a little shiver, as he listened.Beaumaroy sat quite still, the expression in his eyes unaltered--or, ifit altered at all, it grew softer, as though with pity or affection.

  "Good God, Beaumaroy, are you keeping a lunatic in this house?" He mightraise his voice as loud as he pleased now, it was drowned by that other.

  "I'm not keeping him, he's keeping me. And, anyhow, his medical advisertells me there is no reason to suppose that my old friend is not _composmentis_."

  "Irechester says that?"

  "Mr. Saffron's medical attendant is Dr. Arkroyd."

  As he spoke, the noise from above suddenly ceased. Since neither of themen in the parlour spoke, there ensued a minute of what seemed intensesilence; it was such a change.

  Then came a still small sound--a creaking of wood--from overhead.

  "I think you'd better go, Naylor, if you don't mind. After a--aperformance of that kind he generally comes and tells me a
bout it. Andhe may be--I don't know at all for certain--annoyed to find you here."

  Alec Naylor got up from the big chair, but it was not to take hisdeparture.

  "I want to see him, Beaumaroy," he said brusquely and ratherauthoritatively.

  Beaumaroy raised his brows. "I won't take you to his room, or let you gothere, if I can help it. But if he comes down--well, you can stay andsee him. It may get me into a scrape, but that doesn't matter much."

  "My point of view is----"

  "My dear fellow, I know your point of view perfectly. It is that you arepersonally responsible for the universe--apparently just because youwear a uniform."

  No other sound had come from above or from the stairs, but the door nowopened suddenly, and Mr. Saffron stood on the threshold. He woreslippers, a pair of checked trousers, and his bedroom jacket of paleblue; in addition, the grey shawl, which he wore on his walks, was againswathed closely round him. Only his right arm was free from it; in hishand was a silver bedroom candlestick. From his pale face and under hissnowy hair his blue eyes gleamed brightly. As Alec first caught sight ofhim, he was smiling happily, and he called out triumphantly: "That was agood one! That went well, Hector!"

  Then he saw Alec's tall figure by the fire. He grew grave, closed thedoor carefully, and advanced to the table, on which he set down thecandlestick. After a momentary look at Alec, he turned his gazeinquiringly towards Beaumaroy.

  "I'm afraid we're keeping it up rather late, sir," said the latter in atone of respectful yet easy apology, "but I took an airing on the roadafter you went to bed, and there I found my friend here on his way home;and since it was Christmas----"

  Mr. Saffron bowed his head in acquiescence; he showed no sign of anger."Present your friend to me, Hector," he requested--or ordered--gravely.

  "Captain Naylor, sir. Distinguished Service Order; Duffshire Fusiliers."

  The Captain was in uniform and, during his talk with Beaumaroy, had notthought of taking off his cap. Thus he came to the salute instinctively.The old man bowed with reserved dignity; in spite of his queer get-up hebore himself well; the tall handsome Captain did not seem to efface oroutclass him.

  "Captain Naylor has distinguished himself highly in the war, sir,"Beaumaroy continued.

  "I am very glad to make the acquaintance of any officer who hasdistinguished himself in the service of his country." Then his tonebecame easier and more familiar. "Don't let me disturb you, gentlemen.My business with you, Hector, will wait. I have finished my work, andcan rest with a clear conscience."

  "Couldn't we persuade you to stay a few minutes with us, and join us ina whisky-and-soda?"

  "Yes, by all means, Hector. But no whisky. Give me a glass of my ownwine; I see a bottle on the sideboard."

  He came round the table and sat down in the big chair. "Pray seatyourself, Captain," he said, waving his hand towards the stool whichBeaumaroy had lately occupied.

  The Captain obeyed the gesture, but his huge frame looked awkward on thelow seat; he felt aware of it, then aware of the cap on his head; hesnatched it off hastily and twiddled it between his fingers. Mr.Saffron, high up in the great chair, sitting erect, seemed now actuallyto dominate the scene--Beaumaroy standing by, with an arm on the back ofthe chair, holding a tall glass, full of the golden wine, ready to Mr.Saffron's command; the old man reached up his thin right hand, took it,and sipped with evident pleasure.

  Alec Naylor was embarrassed; he sat in silence. But Beaumaroy seemedquite at his ease. He began with a statement which was, in its literalform, no falsehood; but that was about all that could be said for it onthe score of veracity. "Before you came in, sir, we were just speakingof uniforms. Do you remember seeing our blue Air Force uniform when wewere in town last week? I remember that you expressed approval of it."

  In any case the topic was very successful. Mr. Saffron embraced it witheagerness; with much animation he discussed the merits, whetherpractical or decorative, of various uniforms--field-grey, khaki,horizon-blue, Air Force blue, and a dozen others worn by various armies,corps, and services. Alec was something of an enthusiast in this linetoo; he soon forgot his embarrassment, and joined in the conversationfreely, though with a due respect to the obvious thoroughness of Mr.Saffron's information. Watching the pair with an amused smile, Beaumaroycontented himself with putting in, here and there, what may be called aconjunctive observation--just enough to give the topic a new start.

  After a quarter of an hour of this pleasant conversation, for such allthree seemed to find it, Mr. Saffron finished his wine, handed the glassto Beaumaroy, and took a cordial leave of Alec Naylor. "It's time for meto be in bed, but don't hurry away, Captain. You won't disturb me, I'm agood sleeper. Good-bye. I shan't want you any more to-night, Hector."

  Beaumaroy handed him his candle again, and held the door open for him ashe went out.

  Alec Naylor clapped his cap back on his head. "I'm off too," he saidabruptly.

  "Well, you insisted on seeing him, and you've seen him. What about itnow?" asked Beaumaroy.

  Alec eyed him with a puzzled, baffled suspicion. "You switched him on tothat subject on purpose, and by means of something uncommon like a lie."

  "A little artifice! I knew it would interest you, and it's quite one ofhis hobbies. I don't know much about his past life, but I think he musthave had something to do with military tailoring. A designer at the WarOffice, perhaps." Beaumaroy gave a low laugh, rather mocking andmalicious. "Still, that doesn't prove a man mad, does it? Perhaps itought to, but in general opinion it doesn't, any more than recitingpoems in bed does."

  "Do you mean to tell me that he was reciting poetry when----?"

  "Well, it couldn't have sounded worse if he had been, could it?"

  Now he was openly laughing at the Captain's angry bewilderment. He knewthat Alec Naylor did not believe a word of what he was saying, orsuggesting; but yet Alec could not pass his guard, nor wing a shaftbetween the joints of his harness. If he got into difficulties throughheedlessness, at least he made a good shot at getting out of them againby his dexterity. Only, of course, suspicion remains suspicion, eventhough it be, for the moment, baffled. And it could not be denied thatsuspicions were piling up--Captain Alec; Irechester; even, on one littlepoint, Doctor Mary! And possibly those two fellows outside--one of themshort and stumpy--had their suspicions too, though these might bedirected to another point. He gave one of his little shrugs as hefollowed the silent Captain to the garden gate.

  "Good night. Thanks again. And I hope we shall meet soon," he saidcheerily.

  Alec gave him a brief "Good night" and a particularly formal militarysalute.