CHAPTER XL
WHAT MISS COLEMAN SAW THROUGH THE WINDOW
As Miss Coleman had paused, as if her narrative was approaching aconclusion, I judged it expedient to make an attempt to bring therecord as quickly as possible up to date.
'I take it, Miss Coleman, that you have observed what has occurred inthe house to-day.'
She tightened her nut-cracker jaws and glared at me disdainfully,--herdignity was ruffled.
'I'm coming to it, aren't I?--if you'll let me. If you've got nomanners I'll learn you some. One doesn't like to be hurried at my timeof life, young man.'
I was meekly silent;--plainly, if she was to talk, every one else mustlisten.
'During the last few days there have been some queer goings on over theroad,--out of the common queer, I mean, for goodness knows that theyalways have been queer enough. That Arab party has been flitting aboutlike a creature possessed,--I've seen him going in and out twenty timesa day. This morning--'
She paused,--to fix her eyes on Lessingham. She apparently observed hisgrowing interest as she approached the subject which had brought usthere,--and resented it.
'Don't look at me like that, young man, because I won't have it. And asfor questions, I may answer questions when I'm done, but don't you dareto ask me one before, because I won't be interrupted.'
Up to then Lessingham had not spoken a word,--but it seemed as if shewas endowed with the faculty of perceiving the huge volume of the wordswhich he had left unuttered.
'This morning--as I've said already,--' she glanced at Lessingham as ifshe defied his contradiction--'when that Arab party came home it wasjust on the stroke of seven. I know what was the exact time because,when I went to the door to the milkman, my clock was striking the halfhour, and I always keep it thirty minutes fast. As I was taking themilk, the man said to me, "Hollo, Miss Coleman, here's your friendcoming along." "What friend?" I says,--for I ain't got no friends, as Iknow, round here, nor yet, I hope no enemies neither.
'And I looks round, and there was the Arab party coming tearing downthe road, his bedcover thing all flying in the wind, and his armsstraight out in front of him,--I never did see anyone go at such apace. "My goodness," I says, "I wonder he don't do himself an injury.""I wonder someone else don't do him an injury," says the milkman. "Thevery sight of him is enough to make my milk go sour." And he picked uphis pail and went away quite grumpy,--though what that Arab party'sdone to him is more than I can say.--I have always noticed thatmilkman's temper's short like his measure. I wasn't best pleased withhim for speaking of that Arab party as my friend, which he never hasbeen, and never won't be, and never could be neither.
'Five persons went to the house after the milkman was gone, and thatthere Arab party was safe inside,--three of them was commercials, thatI know, because afterwards they came to me. But of course they none ofthem got no chance with that there Arab party except of hammering athis front door, which ain't what you might call a paying game, nor nicefor the temper but for that I don't blame him, for if once thosecommercials do begin talking they'll talk for ever.
'Now I'm coming to this afternoon.'
I thought it was about time,--though for the life of me, I did not dareto hint as much.
'Well, it might have been three, or it might have been half past,anyhow it was thereabouts, when up there comes two men and a woman,which one of the men was that young man what's a friend of yours. "Oh,"I says to myself, "here's something new in callers, I wonder what it isthey're wanting." That young man what was a friend of yours, he startshammering, and hammering, as the custom was with every one who came,and, as usual, no more notice was taken of him than nothing,--though Iknew that all the time the Arab party was indoors.'
At this point I felt that at all hazards I must interpose a question.
'You are sure he was indoors?'
She took it better than I feared she might.
'Of course I'm sure,--hadn't I seen him come in at seven, and he neverhadn't gone out since, for I don't believe that I'd taken my eyes offthe place not for two minutes together, and I'd never had a sight ofhim. If he wasn't indoors, where was he then?'
For the moment, so far as I was concerned, the query was unanswerable.She triumphantly continued:
'Instead of doing what most did, when they'd had enough of hammering,and going away, these three they went round to the back, and I'mblessed if they mustn't have got through the kitchen window, woman andall, for all of a sudden the blind in the front room was pulled not up,but down--dragged down it was, and there was that young man what's afriend of yours standing with it in his hand.
'"Well," I says to myself, "if that ain't cool I should like to knowwhat is. If, when you ain't let in, you can let yourself in, and thatwithout so much as saying by your leave, or with your leave, things iscoming to a pretty pass. Wherever can that Arab party be, and whatevercan he be thinking of, to let them go on like that because that he'sthe sort to allow a liberty to be took with him, and say nothing, Idon't believe."
'Every moment I expects to hear a noise and see a row begin, but, sofar as I could make out, all was quiet and there wasn't nothing of thekind. So I says to myself, "There's more in this than meets the eye,and them three parties must have right upon their side, or theywouldn't be doing what they are doing in the way they are, there'd be ashindy."
'Presently, in about five minutes, the front door opens, and a youngman--not the one what's your friend, but the other--comes sailing out,and through the gate, and down the road, as stiff and upright as agrenadier,--I never see anyone walk more upright, and few as fast. Athis heels comes the young man what is your friend, and it seems to methat he couldn't make out what this other was a-doing of. I says tomyself, "There's been a quarrel between them two, and him as has gonehas hooked it." This young man what is your friend he stood at thegate, all of a fidget, staring after the other with all his eyes, as ifhe couldn't think what to make of him, and the young woman, she stoodon the doorstep, staring after him too.
'As the young man what had hooked it turned the corner, and was out ofsight, all at once your friend he seemed to make up his mind, and hestarted off running as hard as he could pelt,--and the young woman wasleft alone. I expected, every minute, to see him come back with theother young man, and the young woman, by the way she hung about thegate, she seemed to expect it too. But no, nothing of the kind. Sowhen, as I expect, she'd had enough of waiting, she went into the houseagain, and I see her pass the front room window. After a while, backshe comes to the gate, and stands looking and looking, but nothing wasto be seen of either of them young men. When she'd been at the gate, Idaresay five minutes, back she goes into the house,--and I never sawnothing of her again.'
'You never saw anything of her again?--Are you sure she went back intothe house?'
'As sure as I am that I see you.'
'I suppose that you didn't keep a constant watch upon the premises?'
'But that's just what I did do. I felt something queer was going on,and I made up my mind to see it through. And when I make up my mind toa thing like that I'm not easy to turn aside. I never moved off thechair at my bedroom window, and I never took my eyes off the house, nottill you come knocking at my front door.'
'But, since the young lady is certainly not in the house at present,she must have eluded your observation, and, in some manner, have leftit without your seeing her.'
'I don't believe she did, I don't see how she could have done,--there'ssomething queer about that house, since that Arab party's been insideit. But though I didn't see her, I did see someone else.'
'Who was that?'
'A young man.'
'A young man?'
'Yes, a young man, and that's what puzzled me, and what's been puzzlingme ever since, for see him go in I never did do.'
'Can you describe him?'
'Not as to the face, for he wore a dirty cloth cap pulled down rightover it, and he walked so quickly that I never had a proper look. But Ishould know him anywhere if I saw him, if o
nly because of his clothesand his walk.'
'What was there peculiar about his clothes and his walk?'
'Why, his clothes were that old, and torn, and dirty, that a ragmanwouldn't have given a thank you for them,--and as for fit,--therewasn't none, they hung upon him like a scarecrow--he was a regularfigure of fun; I should think the boys would call after him if they sawhim in the street. As for his walk, he walked off just like the firstyoung man had done, he strutted along with his shoulders back, and hishead in the air, and that stiff and straight that my kitchen pokerwould have looked crooked beside of him.'
'Did nothing happen to attract your attention between the young lady'sgoing back into the house and the coming out of this young man?'
Miss Coleman cogitated.
'Now you mention it there did,--though I should have forgotten allabout it if you hadn't asked me,--that comes of your not letting metell the tale in my own way. About twenty minutes after the young womanhad gone in someone put up the blind in the front room, which thatyoung man had dragged right down, I couldn't see who it was for theblind was between us, and it was about ten minutes after that thatyoung man came marching out.'
'And then what followed?'
'Why, in about another ten minutes that Arab party himself comesscooting through the door.'
'The Arab party?'
'Yes, the Arab party! The sight of him took me clean aback. Where he'dbeen, and what he'd been doing with himself while them there peopleplayed hi-spy-hi about his premises I'd have given a shilling out of mypocket to have known, but there he was, as large as life, and carryinga bundle.'
'A bundle?'
'A bundle, on his head, like a muffin-man carries his tray. It was agreat thing, you never would have thought he could have carried it, andit was easy to see that it was as much as he could manage; it bent himnearly double, and he went crawling along like a snail,--it took himquite a time to get to the end of the road.'
Mr Lessingham leaped up from his seat, crying, 'Marjorie was in thatbundle!'
'I doubt it,' I said.
He moved about the room distractedly, wringing his hands.
'She was! she must have been! God help us all!'
'I repeat that I doubt it. If you will be advised by me you will waitawhile before you arrive at any such conclusion.'
All at once there was a tapping at the window pane. Atherton wasstaring at us from without.
He shouted through the glass, 'Come out of that, you fossils!--I'venews for you!'
The Beetle: A Mystery Page 40
