The Secret of the Tower

by Anthony Hope

  CHAPTER XVI

  DEAD MAJESTY

  Mary did not appear to answer Beaumaroy's glance; she continued to lookat, and to address herself to, Captain Alec. "I am tired, and I shouldlove a ride home. But I've still a little to do, and--I know it's awfullylate, but would you mind waiting just a little while? I'm afraid I mightbe as much as half-an-hour."

  "Right you are, Doctor Mary--as long as you like. I'll walk up and down,and smoke a cigar; I want one badly." Mary made an extremely faint motionof her hand towards the house. "Oh, thanks, but really I--well, I shallfeel more comfortable here, I think."

  Mary smiled; it was always safe to rely on Captain Alec's fine feelings;under the circumstances he would--she had felt pretty sure--prefer tosmoke his cigar outside the house. "I'll be as quick as I can. Come, Mr.Beaumaroy!"

  Beaumaroy followed her up the path and into the house. The Sergeant wasstill on the floor of the passage; he rolled apprehensive resentful eyesat them; Mary took no heed of him, but preceded Beaumaroy into the parlorand shut the door.

  "I don't know what your game is," remarked Beaumaroy in a low voice, "butyou couldn't have played mine better. I don't want him inside the house;but I'm mighty glad to have him extremely visible outside it."

  "It was very quiet inside there"--she pointed to the door of theTower--"just before I came out. Before that, I'd heard odd sounds. Wasthere somebody there--and the Sergeant in league with him?"

  "Exactly," smiled Beaumaroy. "It is all quiet. I think I'll have a look."

  The candle on the table had burnt out. He took another from the sideboardand lit it from the one which Mary still held.

  "Like the poker?" she asked, with a flicker of a smile on her face.

  "No you come and help, if I cry out!" He could not repress a chuckle;Doctor Mary was interesting him extremely.

  Lighted by his candle, he went into the Tower. She heard him moving aboutthere, as she stood thoughtfully by the extinct fire, still with hercandle in her hand.

  Beaumaroy returned. "He's gone--or they've gone." He exhibited to hergaze two objects--a checked pocket-handkerchief and a tobacco pouch."Number one found on the edge of the grave--Number two on the floor ofthe dais, just behind the canopy. If the same man had drawn them both outof the same pocket at the same time--wanting to blow the same nose,Doctor Mary--they'd have fallen at the same place, wouldn't they?"

  "Wonderful, Holmes!" said Mary. "And now, shall we attend to Mr.Saffron?"

  They carried out that office, the course of which they had originallyprepared. Beaumaroy passed with his burden hard by the Sergeant, and Maryfollowed. In a quarter of an hour they came downstairs again, and Maryagain led the way into the parlor. She went to the window, and drew thecurtains aside a little way. The lights of the car were burning; theCaptain's tall figure fell within their rays and was plainly visible,strolling up and down; the ambit of the rays did not, however, embracethe Tower window. The Captain paced and smoked, patient, content, goneback to his own happy memories and anticipations. Mary returned to thetable and set her candle down on it.

  "All right. I think we can keep him a little longer."

  "I vote we do," said Beaumaroy. "I reckon he's scared the fellows away,and they won't come back so long as they see his lights."

  Rash at conclusions sometimes--as has been seen--Beaumaroy was right inhis opinion of the Captain's value as a sentry, or a scarecrow to keepaway hungry birds. The confederates had stolen back to their base ofoperations--to where their car lay behind the trees. There, too, noSergeant and no sack! Neddy reached for his roomy flask, drank of it,and with hoarse curses consigned the entire course of events, hisaccomplices, even himself, to nethermost perdition. "That placeain't--natural!" he ended in a gloomy conviction. "'Oo pinched that sack?The Sergeant? Well--maybe it was, and maybe it wasn't." He finished theflask to cure a recurrence of the shudders.

  Mike prevailed with him so far that he consented--reluctantly--to be leftalone on the blasted heath, while his friend went back to reconnoiter.Mike went, and presently returned; the car was still there, the tallfigure was still pacing up and down.

  "And perhaps the other one's gone for the police!" Mike suggesteduneasily. "Guess we've lost the hand, Neddy! Best be moving, eh? It's nogo for to-night."

  "Catch me trying the bloomin' place any other night!" grumbled Neddy."It's given me the 'orrors, and no mistake."

  Mike--Mr. Percy Bennett, that erstwhile gentlemanly stranger--recognizedone of his failures. Such things are incidental to all professions."Our best game is to go back; if the Sergeant's on the square, we'llhear from him." But he spoke without much hope; rationalist as heprofessed himself, still he was affected by the atmosphere of the Tower.With what difficulty do we entirely throw off atavistic notions! Theyboth of them had, at the bottom of their minds, the idea that the deadman on the high seat had defeated them, and that no luck lay in meddlingwith his treasure.

  "I 'ave my doubts whether that ugly Sergeant's 'uman himself," growledNeddy, as he hoisted his bulk into the car.

  So they went back to whence they came; and the impression that thenight's adventure left upon them was heightened as the days went by. For,strange to say, though they watched all the usual channels ofinformation, as Ministers say; in Parliament, and also tried to open upsome unusual ones, they never heard anything again of the Sergeant, ofthe sack of gold, of the yawning tomb with its golden lining, of itssilent waxen-faced enthroned guardian who had defeated them. It all--thewhole bizarre scene--vanished from their ken, as though it had been oneof those alluring, thwarting dreams which afflict men in sleep. It was anexperience to which they were shy of alluding among their confidentialfriends, even of talking about between themselves. In aword--uncomfortable!

  Meanwhile the Sergeant's association with Tower Cottage had also drawn toits close. After his search and his discovery in the Tower, Beaumaroycame out into the passage where the prisoner lay, and proceeded tounfasten his bonds.

  "Stand up and listen to me, Sergeant," he said. "Your pals have run away;they can't help you, and they wouldn't if they could, because, owing toyou, they haven't got away with any plunder, and so they'll be in a verybad temper with you. In the road, in front of the house, is CaptainNaylor--you know that officer and his dimensions? He's in a very temperwith you too. (Here Beaumaroy was embroidering the situation; theSergeant was not really in Captain Alec's thoughts.) Finally, I'm in avery bad temper with you myself. If I see your ugly phiz much longer, Imay break out. Don't you think you'd better depart--by the back door--andgo home? And if you're not out of Inkston for good and all by ten o'clockin the morning, and if you ever show yourself there again, look out forsqualls. What you've got out of this business I don't know. You can keepit--and I'll give you a parting present myself as well."

  "I knows a thing or two--" the Sergeant began, but he saw a look thathe had seen only once or twice before on Beaumaroy's face; on eachoccasion it had been followed by the death of the enemy whose act hadelicited it.

  "Oh, try that game, just try it!" Beaumaroy muttered. "Just give me thatexcuse!" He advanced to the Sergeant, who fell suddenly on his knees."Don't make a noise, you hound, or I'll silence you for good and all--I'ddo it for twopence!" He took hold of the Sergeant's coat-collar, jerkedhim on to his legs, and propelled him to the kitchen and through it tothe back door. Opening it, he dispatched the Sergeant through the doorwaywith an accurate and vigorous kick. He fell, and lay sprawling on theground for a second, then gathered himself up and ran hastily over theheath, soon disappearing in the darkness. The memory of Beaumaroy's lookwas even keener than the sensation caused by Beaumaroy's boot. It senthim in flight back to Inkston, thence to London, thence into the unknown,to some spot chosen for its remoteness from Beaumaroy, from CaptainNaylor, from Mike and from Neddy. He recognized his unpopularity, therebyachieving a triumph in a difficult little branch of wisdom.

  Beaumaroy returned to the parlor hastily; not so much to avoid keepingCaptain Alec waiting--it was quite a useful precaution to ha
ve thatsentry on duty a little longer--as because his curiosity and interest hadbeen excited by the description which Doctor Mary had given of Mr.Saffron's death. It was true, probably the precise truth, but it seemedto have been volunteered in a rather remarkable way and worded withcareful purpose. Also it was the bare truth, the truth denuded of all itsattendant circumstances--which had not been normal.

  When he rejoined her, Mary was sitting in the armchair by the fire; sheheard his account of the state of affairs up-to-date with a thoughtfulsmile, smoking a cigarette; her smile broadened over the tale of thewater-butt. She had put on the fur cloak in which she had walked to thecottage--the fire was out and the room cold; framed in the furs, theoutline of her face looked softer.

  "So we stand more or less as we did before the burglars appeared on thescene," she commented.

  "Except that our personal exertions have saved that money."

  "I suppose you would prefer that all the circumstances shouldn't comeout? There have been irregularities."

  "I should prefer that, not so much on my own account--I don't know anddon't care what they could do to me--as for the old man's sake."

  "If I know you, I think you would rather enjoy being able to keep yoursecret. You like having the laugh of people. I know that myself, Mr.Beaumaroy." She exchanged a smile with him. "You want a death certificatefrom me," she added.

  "I suppose I do," Beaumaroy agreed.

  "In the sort of terms in which I described Mr. Saffron's death to CaptainAlec? If I gave such a certificate, there would remain nothing--well,nothing peculiar--except the--the appearance of things in the Tower."

  Her eyes were now fixed on his face; he nodded his head with a smile ofunderstanding. There was something new in the tone of Doctor Mary'svoice; not only friendliness, though that was there, but a note ofexcitement, of enjoyment, as though she also were not superior to thepleasure of having the laugh of people. "But it's rather straining apoint to say that--and nothing more. I could do it only if you made mefeel that I could trust you absolutely."

  Beaumaroy made a little grimace, and waited for her to developher subject.

  "Your morality is different from most people's, and from mine. Mine isconventional."

  "Conventual!" Beaumaroy murmured.

  "Yours isn't. It's all personal with you. You recognize no rights inpeople whom you don't like, or who you think aren't deserving, or haven'tearned rights. And you don't judge your own rights by what the law givesyou, either. The right of conquest you called it; you hold yourself freeto exercise that against everybody, except your friends, and againsteverybody in the interest of your friends--like poor Mr. Saffron. Ibelieve you'd do the same for me if I asked you to."

  "I'm glad you believe that, Doctor Mary."

  "But I can't deal with you on that basis. It's even difficult to befriends on that basis--and certainly impossible to be partners."

  "I never suggested that we should be partners over the money," Beaumaroyput in quickly.

  "No. But I'm suggesting now--as you did before--that we should bepartners--in a secret, in Mr. Saffron's secret." She smiled again as sheadded, "You can manage it all, I know, if you like. I've unlimitedconfidence in your ingenuity--quite unlimited."

  "But none at all in my honesty?"

  "You've got an honesty; but I don't call it a really honest honesty."

  "All this leads up to--the Radbolts!" declared Beaumaroy with & gestureof disgust.

  "It does. I want your word of honor--given to a friend--that all thatmoney--all of it--goes to the Radbolts, if it legally belongs to them. Iwant that in exchange for the certificate."

  "A hard bargain! It isn't so much that I want the money--though I mustremark that in my judgment I have a strong claim to it; I would say amoral claim but for my deference to your views, Doctor Mary. But it isn'tmainly that. I hate the Radbolts getting it, just as much as the old manwould have hated it."

  "I have given you my--my terms," said Mary.

  Beaumaroy stood looking down at her, his hands in his pockets. His facewas twisted in a humorous disgust. Mary laughed gently. "It is possibleto--to keep the rules without being a prig, you know, though I believeyou think it isn't."

  "Including the sack in the water-butt? My sack, the sack I rescued?"

  "Including the sack in the water-butt. Yes, every single sovereign!"Though Mary was pursuing the high moral line, there was now more mischiefthan gravity in her demeanor.

  "Well, I'll do it!" He evidently spoke with a great effort. "I'll do it!But, look here, Doctor Mary, you'll live to be sorry you made me do it.Oh, I don't mean that that conscience of yours will be sorry. That'llapprove, no doubt, being the extremely conventionalized thing it is. Butyou yourself, you'll be sorry, or I'm much mistaken in the Radbolts."

  "It isn't a question of the Radbolts," she insisted, laughing.

  "Oh yes, it is, and you'll come to feel it so." Beaumaroy was equallyobstinate.

  Mary rose. "Then that's settled, and we needn't keep Captain Alec waitingany longer."

  "How do you know that I sha'n't cheat you?" he asked.

  "I don't know how I know that," Mary admitted. "But I do know it. And Iwant to tell you--"

  She suddenly felt embarrassed under his gaze; her cheeks flushed, but shewent on resolutely:

  "To tell you how glad, how happy, I am that it all ends like this; thatthe poor old man is free of his fancies and his fears, beyond both ourpity and our laughter."

  "Aye, he's earned rest, if there is to be rest for any of us!"

  "And you can rest, too. And you can laugh with us, and not at us. Isn'tthat, after all, a more human sort of laughter?"

  She was smiling still as she gave him her hand, but he saw that tearsstood in her eyes. The next instant she gave a little sob.

  "Doctor Mary!" he exclaimed in rueful expostulation.

  "No, no, how stupid you are!" She laughed through her sob. "It's notunhappiness!" She pressed his hand tightly for an instant and then walkedquickly out of the house, calling back to him, "Don't come, please don'tcome. I'd rather go to Captain Alec by myself."

  Left alone in the cottage, now so quiet and so peaceful, Beaumaroy museda while as he smoked his pipe. Then he turned to his labors--his finalnight of work in the Tower. There was much to do, very much to do; heachieved his task towards morning. When day dawned, there was nothing butwater in the water-butt, and in the Tower no furnishings were visiblesave three chairs--a high carved one by the fireplace, and two muchsmaller on the little platform under the window. The faded old red carpeton the floor was the only attempt at decoration. And in still one thingmore the Tower was different from what it had been, Beaumaroy contentedhimself with pasting brown paper over the pane on which Mike hadoperated. He did not replace the matchboarding over the window, butstowed it away in the coal-shed. The place was horribly in need ofsunshine and fresh air--and the old gentleman was no longer alive to fearthe draught!

  When the undertaker came up to the cottage that afternoon, he glancedfrom the parlor, through the open door, into the Tower.

  "Driving past on business, sir," he remarked to Beaumaroy, "I've oftenwondered what the old gentleman did with that there Tower. But it looksas if he didn't make no use of it."

  "We sometimes stored things in it," said Beaumaroy. "But, as you see,there's nothing much there now."

  But then the undertaker, worthy man, could not see through the carpet, orthrough the lid of Captain Duggle's grave. That was full--fuller than ithad been at any period of its history. In it lay the wealth, the scepter,and the trappings of dead Majesty. For wherein did Mr. Saffron's deadMajesty differ from the dead Majesty of other Kings?