The Secret of the Tower

by Anthony Hope

  CHAPTER VIII

  CAPTAIN ALEC RAISES HIS VOICE

  Beaumaroy led the way into the parlor, 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 wentoff like a lamb, poor old boy. If we don't talk too loud we sha'n'tdisturb him."

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

  "Don't hurry." Beaumaroy was bringing the refreshment he had offered fromthe sideboard. "I'm feeling lonely to-night, so I--" he smiled--"yieldedto the impulse to ask you to come in, Naylor. However, let's have thestory 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 the neighborhood.There are stories about this old den, you know--ancient traditions. It'ssaid 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's ill-usage. "Isuppose you intend to stick to the army, Naylor?"

  "Yes, certainly I do."

  "I'm discharged. After I came out of hospital they gave me sick leave,and constantly renewed it; and when the armistice came they gave me mydischarge. They put it down to my wound, of course, but--well, I gatheredthe impression that I was considered no great loss." He had finished hispipe, 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 was theresix or seven years, just as Captain--Captain--? Oh, Cranster, yes!--wasin Bogota--when I joined up, and had no particular reason for going backthere--and, incidentally, no money to go back with. So I took on thisjob, which came to me quite accidentally. I went into a Piccadilly barone evening, and found my old man there, rather excited and declaiming agood deal of rot; seemed to have the war a bit on his brain. They startedin to guy him, and I think one or two meant to hustle him, and perhapstake his money off him. I took his part, and there was a bit of ashindy. In the end I saw him home to his lodgings--he had a room inLondon for the night--and, to cut a long story short, we palled up, andhe asked me to come and live with him. So here I am, and with me mySancho Panza, the worthy ex-Sergeant Hooper. Perhaps I may be forgivenfor impliedly comparing myself to Don Quixote, since that gentleman,besides his other characteristics, is generally agreed 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,rather hotly.

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

  Alec lowered his voice, for a moment anyhow, but the central articleof his creed was assailed, and he grew vehement. "It's fatal; it's atthe root of all our troubles. Allow for failures in individuals, andyou produce failure all round. It's tenderness to defaulters thatwrecks discipline. I would have strict justice, but no mercy, not ashadow of it!"

  "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 a slackercost good men their lives? Much better take his, if it's got to be one orthe other."

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

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

  "I really wouldn't have asked you in, if I'd thought you'd raiseyour voice."

  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 at it,that's the fact. I'm always giving the show away!" he grumbled, half tohimself, 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 grating noise,without a meaning. The effect was weird, very uncomfortable. Alec Naylorknit his brows, and once gave a little shiver, as he listened. Beaumaroysat quite still, the expression in his eyes unaltered, or, if altered atall, 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_compos mentis_."

  "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 parlor 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 performanceof that kind he generally comes and tells me about it. And he may be,
Idon'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 and seehim. 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 you weara 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 gray 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 in 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. Mybusiness with you, Hector, will wait. I have finished my work, and canrest with a clear conscience."

  "Couldn't we persuade you to stay a few minutes with us, and join us in awhisky-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 speaking ofuniforms. Do you remember seeing our blue Air Force uniform when we werein 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, whether practicalor decorative, of various uniforms--field-gray, khaki, horizon blue, AirForce blue, and a dozen others worn by various armies, corps, andservices. Alec was something of an enthusiast in this line too; he soonforgot his embarrassment, and joined in the conversation freely, thoughwith a due respect to the obvious thoroughness of Mr. Saffron'sinformation. Watching the pair with an amused smile, Beaumaroy contentedhimself with putting in, here and there, what may be called a conjunctiveobservation--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 sha'n'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," hesaid abruptly.

  "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 recitingpoetry 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 formalmilitary salute.