Beaumaroy Home from the Wars

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'sawfully late, but would you mind waiting just a little while? I'm afraidI might be 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 faintmotion of her hand towards the house. "Oh, thanks, but really I--well, Ishall feel 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 theparlour and shut the door.

  "I don't know what your game is," remarked Beaumaroy in a low voice,"but you couldn't have played mine better. I don't want him inside thehouse; 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 alook."

  The candle on the table had burnt out. He took another from thesideboard and 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 movingabout there, as she stood thoughtfully by the extinct fire, still withher candle 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 bothout of 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, andMary followed. In a quarter of an hour they came downstairs again, andMary again led the way into the parlour. She went to the window, anddrew the curtains aside a little way. The lights of the car wereburning; the Captain's tall figure fell within their rays and wasplainly visible, strolling up and down; the ambit of the rays did not,however, embrace the Tower window. The Captain paced and smoked,patient, content, gone back to his own happy memories and anticipations.Mary returned to the table 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 thatsack? The Sergeant? Well--maybe it was, and maybe it wasn't." Hefinished the flask, to cure a recurrence of the shudders.

  Mike prevailed with him so far that he consented--reluctantly--to beleft alone on the blasted heath, while his friend went back toreconnoitre. Mike went, and presently returned; the car was still there,the tall figure 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. "Ourbest game is to go back; if the Sergeant's on the square, we'll hearfrom him." But he spoke without much hope; rationalist as he professedhimself, still he was affected by the atmosphere of the Tower. With whatdifficulty do we entirely throw off atavistic notions! They both of themhad, at the bottom of their minds, the idea that the dead man on thehigh seat had defeated them, and that no luck lay in meddling with histreasure.

  "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 drawnto its 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 runaway; they can't help you, and they wouldn't if they could, because,owing to you, they haven't got away with any plunder, and so they'll bein a very bad temper with you. In the road, in front of the house, isCaptain Naylor--you know that officer and his dimensions? He's in a verybad temper with you too." (Here Beaumaroy was embroidering thesituation; the Sergeant was not really in Captain Alec's thoughts.)"Finally, I'm in a very bad temper with you myself. If I see your uglyphiz much longer, I may break out. Don't you think you'd betterdepart--by the back door, and go home? And if you're not out of Inkstonfor good and all by ten o'clock in the morning, and if you ever showyourself there again, look out for squalls. What you've got out of thisbusiness I don't know. You can keep it--and I'll give you a partingpresent 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 andall--I'd do it for twopence!" He took hold of the Sergeant'scoat-collar, jerked him on to his legs, and propelled him to the kitchenand through it to the back door. Opening it, he despatched the Sergeantthrough the doorway with an accurate and vigorous kick. He fell, and laysprawling on the ground for a second, then gathered himself up and ranhastily over the heath, soon disappearing in the darkness. The memory ofBeaumaroy's look was even keener than the sensation caused byBeaumaroy's boot. It sent him in flight back to Inkston, thence toLondon, thence into the unknown, to some spot chosen for its remotenessfrom Beaumaroy, from Captain Naylor, from Mike and from Neddy. Herecognized his unpopularity, thereby achieving a triumph in a difficultlittle branch of wisdom.

  Beaumaroy returned to the parlour hastily; not so much to avoid keepingCaptain Alec waiting--it was quite a useful precauti
on to have thatsentry on duty a little longer--as because his curiosity and interesthad been 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 allits attendant circumstances--which had not been normal.

  When he rejoined her, Mary was sitting in the arm-chair 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 deathcertificate from me," she added.

  "I suppose I do," Beaumaroy agreed.

  "In the sort of terms in which I described Mr. Saffron's death toCaptain Alec? If I gave such a certificate, there would remainnothing--well, nothing peculiar--except the--the appearance of things inthe 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 develop hersubject.

  "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, orhaven't earned rights. And you don't judge your own rights by what thelaw gives you, either. The right of conquest you called it; you holdyourself free to exercise that against everybody, except your friends,and against everybody in the interest of your friends--like poor Mr.Saffron. I believe 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 a gestureof disgust.

  "It does. I want your word of honour--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 itisn't mainly that. I hate the Radbolts getting it--just as much as theold man would 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 bag in the water-butt. Yes--every single sovereign!"Though Mary was pursuing the high moral line, there was now moremischief than gravity in her demeanour.

  "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 Alecwaiting any longer."

  "How do you know that I shan'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, butshe went 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 thenwalked quickly out of the house, calling back to him, "Don't come,please don't come. I'd rather go to Captain Alec by myself."

  Left alone in the cottage, now so quiet and so peaceful, Beaumaroy musedawhile as he smoked his pipe. Then he turned to his labours--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 nothingbut water in the water-butt, and in the Tower no furnishings werevisible save three chairs--a high carved one by the fireplace, and twomuch smaller on the little platform under the window. The faded old redcarpet on the floor was the only attempt at decoration. And in still onething more the Tower was different from what it had been. Beaumaroycontented himself with pasting brown paper over the pane on which Mikehad operated. He did not replace the match-boarding 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 tofear the draught!

  When the undertaker came up to the cottage that afternoon, he glancedfrom the parlour, 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,or through the lid of Captain Duggle's grave. That was full--fuller thanit had been at any period of its history. In it lay the wealth, thesceptre, and the trappings of dead majesty. For wherein did Mr.Saffron's dead majesty differ from the dead majesty of other kings?