Till the Clock Stops

by J. J. Bell

  CHAPTER XXVII

  "I think that's everything, Caw. We shan't be much later than eleven.Don't forget that Mr. Harvie wants to catch the first steamer in themorning." Alan, in evening dress, was smoking a cigarette in the studypending the assembling of his guests in the drawing-room, all of whom hadbeen bidden to dinner that evening by the hospitable Handyside.

  "Mr. Harvie shall be looked after, sir." Caw retired to the door, closedit and came back to the hearth. "May I ask you to cast your eye over thislist, Mr. Alan?" he said, presenting a sheet of notepaper.

  "Why," exclaimed Alan, "this is my uncle's writing ... and it's a list ofthe people who are now in the house--"

  "With one exception, sir. Mr. Bullard."

  "That's so. Where did this come from?"

  "That, sir, is one of the instructions left me by my master. Those arethe names of all the people who are to be present on the night when theclock stops. I ventured to bring it to your notice now merely because itstruck me as a little curious, sir, especially since Mr. Harvie, thelawyer, had not intended to stay the night."

  Alan smiled. "And so we want only Mr. Bullard to make the party complete!Pity he sailed to-day for South Africa!"

  "If I may say so, I should like very much to have seen him off, sir."

  "Good heavens, man! Didn't that telegram of an hour ago convince you?"

  "It struck me afterwards that your agent might have watched his--well,his double go on board. You will remember that wire from Paris--"

  "Oh, really, Caw, your imagination carries you too far! Bullard, as youwell know, is bound for South Africa on serious business: his fortune isat stake. Doesn't that satisfy you? Is it this list that has upset you?"

  "Well, to tell the truth, sir, it did give me a bit of a turn, and I'mnot superstitious every evening."

  "You've got your big dog."

  Caw smiled apologetically. "I didn't say I was afraid, sir. Perhaps youare right to laugh at me, sir; still, Mr. Bullard has always done theunexpected thing in the past, and--"

  Teddy came in.

  "Teddy," said Alan, "shut the door, and in the fewest words possible tellCaw what Bullard did to Flitch in the fog."

  Three minutes later Caw went out, with his list, easier in his mind thanhe had ever been since that midnight hour when he set the clock going.

  And now Alan glanced at the clock. "Time's about up. We had better godownstairs."

  In the drawing-room they found Lancaster and Mr. Harvie. Three days ofthe free and friendly atmosphere of Grey House had worked wonders on theformer: a rather painful diffidence was still in evidence now and then,but the man was beginning to hold up his head, his nervousness wasbecoming less noticeable, and his old kindly manner was once moreasserting itself. Once Caw had caught him watching Alan unawares, and hadforgiven him much because of the gratitude in his gaze.

  The lawyer had run down from Glasgow to see Alan respecting that youngman's recent and serious onslaught on his capital, and had allowedhimself to be persuaded to remain over night. He and Lancaster appearedto take kindly to each other, much to the host's gratification. Thus farAlan could congratulate himself on the success of his little house-party.Doris seemed to have found the friend he had hoped for her in MarjorieHandyside. As for Mrs. Lancaster, she had been a cheering surprise in hergraciousness to every one and her open appreciations of her surroundings,while she had quite captivated the doctor.

  It was therefore something of a blow when Doris, lovely in a wild-rosepink, but a little pale and anxious looking, appeared with the news thather mother had been stricken with a headache so severe as to necessitateher going to bed.

  "I never knew your mother to have a headache before," said Lancaster,perturbed. "I hope it is nothing serious."

  "She wants us not to bother about her," said the girl. "She has not beensleeping so well lately, she says, but hopes to get to sleep now, and shewill ring if she requires anything. No, father; she would rather youdidn't go up."

  Alan expressed his regrets. "It doesn't seem right to go out andleave her--"

  "I'm afraid it would just upset her if we made any difference," saidDoris, "and she certainly does not look alarmingly ill."

  "I will leave orders with Caw to communicate at once should she want you,Doris," Alan said at last, and presently the party went forth into thestarry, moonless night.

  Alan, as host, escorted Doris. As he drew her hand through his arm hefelt it tremble.

  "Are you troubled about your mother?" he asked.

  "Just a little, Alan," she replied, after a moment. "But I'm not going tolet it make me a skeleton at the feast," she added with a small laugh.She would have given much then to have been walking with Teddy; heranswer to a similar question from him would have been somewhat different,for her mind was full of vague fears.

  And just then Alan spoke of Teddy. "Is there anything wrong between youand Teddy, Doris? I may be mistaken, but these last few days I have beenfancying you were avoiding each other. No quarrel, surely."

  "Oh, nonsense! Teddy is my oldest friend, and neither of us isquarrelsome. On the other hand, we are interested in people besides eachother." Her lighter tone was very well assumed.

  "That's all right then," he said, and there was a pause. Then, suddenly,he put another question: "Doris, must I go on waiting till--till theclock stops?"

  Her reply was, to say the least of it, unexpected. "No, I don't thinkit's necessary, Alan."

  "Doris!" He may have imagined his voice sounded eager as he proceeded:"Then I may speak now!"

  "Please, no," she gently forbade. "I meant that you must never speak atall--to me--of marriage. For you don't really love me, dear Alan, andI--I'm really awfully glad! Now don't say another word, my friend. Whocould be dishonest under such a sky?"

  And having nothing to say, he held his peace till they reached the gatesof the doctor's garden where the others awaited them.

  * * * * *

  To Mrs. Lancaster, as a matter of course, the chief guest-chamber hadbeen allotted. Its door faced that of the study across the spaciouslanding; viewed from outside, its bay-window balanced that of the studyand suggested an equally large apartment. It lacked, however, the depthof the opposite room, and further differed from the latter in having awindow of ordinary size in the side wall, looking north. Elegance andcomfort it possessed to satisfy the most fastidious senses. White wallsand furniture, rose velvet carpet, and hangings, silver electricfittings and a silver bedstead. The warmed atmosphere would have beenpleasant to the body without the fire, yet those glowing and flaminglogs made cheerfulness for the imagination--or would have done so forthe imagination of any person save Mrs. Lancaster. At intervals sheshivered. She was half sitting, half reclining on the couch drawn nearto the hearth. She was wearing an elaborate tea-gown which had cost her,or, to be precise, had added to her debts, more guineas than some of usearn in a year.

  Her hands and neck blazed with gems, but her eyes would have made youforget the jewels, so intensely they gleamed. The finger of feverishnesshad touched her dusky cheeks to a rare flush. Waiting there in the softlight of a single lamp of the cluster in the ceiling, Carlotta Lancasterhad never looked so splendid. And she had never felt so afraid.

  Afraid of what? Ruin for her husband, misery for her daughter? Oh, dear,no! Afraid of being herself caught in a most dishonourable and traitorousact? A little, perhaps. But the fear that now made her shiver and burnwas the fear lest Bullard should fail in his latest and last, as he hadsaid it should be, plan to obtain the diamonds. Failure on his partspelled ruin for her--not just social ruin, though that were terribleenough, but financial ruin, hideous, complete.

  Debts, debts, debts! The night before leaving London, and for the firsttime in her life there, she had sat down with paper and pencil and madeup a statement--rough, of course--of all she owed, and added it up....Appalling! Thousands and thousands of pounds! Why, great Heavens! if sheused her recent windfall to pay her debts, she would have nothing leftworth
mentioning. And Bullard was going to give her a hundredthousand--if--if ... Oh, but he must not fail! It was her final chance,her final hope, of averting downfall into sordid obscurity.

  An hour ago another hope had glimmered, but briefly.

  "Doris," she said, "you seem happy here. Will you give me a straightanswer to a straight question? Suppose your father's affairs came right;suppose, also, I gave you back that money; would you--would you marryAlan Craig?"

  But Doris, who had made a discovery since coming to Grey House, answeredshortly yet cheerfully--

  "No!"

  Mrs. Lancaster did not press the matter. She was too well aware that thetwenty-five thousand pounds had been the price of the remnants of herdaughter's faith in her. Doris had ceased to call her "mother" except incompany, and then as seldom as possible; in times of unavoidable privacyshe treated her with extreme but distant courtesy.

  So the glimmer had gone out, and now there was no way of salvation butBullard's way.

  The silver carriage-clock on the mantel tingled eight. Mrs. Lancasterrose and went to the door, which she opened an inch. Awhile she listenedintently, then closed it and turned the key. She had heard nothing.Twenty minutes earlier she had heard Caw moving about the study, mendingthe fire and putting things in order; then he had gone downstairs--tohis supper, she presumed. He would not likely be up again within thenext two hours--unless she summoned him. With another shudder she movedaway from the door.

  Presently she unlocked one of her trunks and took out a little whitepackage with a red cross scored on it. Undoing the sealed waxed paper sheuncovered several neatly cut strips of meat. She regarded them withdisgust. It was by no means the first little white package she had openedsince her arrival at Grey House, but none of the previous ones had beencrossed with red.

  She switched off the light and went towards the side window, slippedbetween the curtains and drew them close behind her. When her eyes weregrown accustomed to the darkness, she raised the sash. Like the others inthe house it worked easily, noiselessly. A bitter air from thesnow-capped Argyll hills made her wish she had donned furs.

  Crouching, she reached out and peered downwards. The darkness baffledher, but something had to be left to chance. She let fall a strip ofmeat, and closed the window--for about five minutes. Then she peered downagain. A live thing was moving on the gravel. She let fall the rest ofthe meat, and a snuffling sound came up to her ears. Caw's Great Dane hadlately been finding frequent tit-bits in that particular spot, and now hewas making another tasty meal--his last.

  Mrs. Lancaster closed the window and after washing her hands went back tothe fire. It supplied all the light she required for the present. Therewas nothing that needed to be done for an hour. But she grew more andmore restless, and before half the time had passed she was openinganother of her trunks. From it she took that which in the doubtful lightseemed a mere mass of silk, but which was later to resolve itself into asort of ladder carefully rolled up and fitted with a steel clamp at thetop. She placed the bundle behind the curtains of the side window, andreturned to the trunk.

  From a nest of soft materials she drew a wooden box about eight inchessquare. Gingerly she carried it to the couch, seated herself, and tookoff the lid. The removal of a quantity of cotton wool revealed a glasssphere of the size of an average orange, filled with a clear, colourlessfluid. She let the sphere stay where it was, and after gazing at itawhile placed the box very cautiously on the mantel.

  Feeling faintish, she got her smelling-salts and cologne and lay down onthe couch. The half hour that followed was the longest she had everspent, and yet she was not relieved when the clock tinkled nine. The firehad burned low, but she let it die....

  Once more she lurked at the window--fearing one moment, hoping thenext, that her message had not reached him in time, that he wouldnot come--till another night, though she was aware that it must benow or never.... And at last, down below, a mere spark of lightmoved in the mirk.

  Mrs. Lancaster was no weakling. The spark roused as though it had touchedand scorched her. She cleared her mind for action. No useless hamperingthoughts littered it now. Her intelligence reckoned nothing save the workon hand; its details she had by heart. She acted.

  * * * * *

  Bullard came from between the curtains white and breathing hard, butsmiling. He had no head for climbing--and a loosely hung ladder of silkenloops in the darkness is poor support to the nerves--but he had the willfor anything that meant great gain.

  "You will excuse me," he gasped, taking a sip from a tiny goldflask. "I've come out of one darkness to go into another. Is all clear?You managed the dog, I noticed. Yes, yes, very disagreeable, butnecessary.... Well?"

  "So far as I know," she whispered, "your way is clear, unless"--sheglanced at the box on the mantel--"I fail, or that thing there does. Haveyou found out about the clock?"

  "Not much. Nothing, in fact. The Frenchman would not take my order for aclock exactly similar to my dear old friend's, and he was not talkative.But I'm very much mistaken if Christopher's diamonds are not there."

  "Tell me," she said, her hand to her heart, "how you are going toescape--detection. I must know that before we go further, for, if theycatch you, they will never, with such a fortune involved, spare you formy husband's sake."

  He seated himself beside her on the couch and lit a cigarette.

  "There is no time for full details, dear lady. Be satisfied with these.First, I sailed this afternoon from London--by deputy, you understand.To-night I shall travel a certain distance south by car, afterwards byrail. At a certain port, a Mr. So-and-So will board and occupy hisreserved cabin on a swift steamer bound for Madeira. At Madeira Mr.So-and-So and Mr. Deputy will meet--just meet and no more. Then Mr.Deputy will disappear as such, Mr. So-and-So will disappear as such, andMr. Bullard will continue his journey to Cape Town."

  "Oh, you are horribly clever! ... Your deputy is like you in appearance?"

  "Very; and as I've had occasion to use him before, he knows my littleways.... But now, Mrs. Lancaster, I must ask you to get busy." He rose,took the box from the mantel and extracted the sphere. "Don't be afraid,"he said, as she rose, also, with a shiver. "Only be careful." He laid itin her hand.

  "Will it hurt much?" she whispered.

  "No--not much. Disagreeable of course, but not deadly."

  "You're sure it won't--kill?"

  "I give you my word. Now, please,--at once." He went over to the door andunlocked it. "Come!"

  She joined him. "Oh, yes, I know exactly what to do," she said, answeringa question.

  "Very well." He returned to the hearth. "Now I'm going to ring for Mr.Caw.... There!"

  She opened the door and slipped out. At the rail directly over the footof the stair she took her stand.

  Ere long she heard a door in the distance open and shut. Then she heardCaw coming along the passage leading from the kitchen premises....

  As Caw placed his foot on the first step, something bright flashed downwithin a yard of his eyes and burst on the stair with a slight report.

  When Bullard looked over, a moment later, he nodded and said: "That's allright. He won't stir for fifteen minutes, anyway, and I hope I shan'tneed five."

  It then appeared necessary to conduct Mrs. Lancaster back to her room andadminister to her what remained in the tiny gold flask.