Jacob's Ladder

by E. Phillips Oppenheim

  CHAPTER XXI

  Jacob watched the departure of his host, through a slit in the wall,with fascinated eyes. First of all he saw him paddle across thechannel to the other side, secure the boat and pause to light acigarette. Afterwards, on his way back to the Castle, he entered thewalled gardens, plucked a peach from the wall and ate it. Finally hedisappeared down one of the yew-bordered walks. The house still seemedwrapped in slumber. Jacob took stock of his surroundings. The wallswhich, to judge from the slits, were about three feet thick, were ofrude granite. There was no fireplace, no chair, no furniture of anysort. The floor was of cold stone. The place in itself was enough tostrike a chill into one's heart. One huge aperture looked out upon theopen sea, sloping down towards it. The other, much narrower, commandeda view of the house. There was nothing else to discover. He countedhis cigarettes and found sixteen, with an ample supply of matches. Helit one, and, taking off his coat for a seat, sat upon the floor andleaned back against the wall.

  In about two hours and a half the house began to show some signs oflife. In about three hours, Jacob's heart gave a little jump as he sawLady Mary scramble down the little piece of shelving beach and examinethe rope by which the boat was secured. She lifted one of the oars,which was still wet, and then without hesitation turned and hurriedback to the house. In less than half an hour, he saw her mounted on arough but useful-looking pony, cantering down the drive. Somehow orother, she seemed to him, even at that moment, like a messenger ofhope. An hour later, Montague and Hartwell came strolling down,smoking huge cigars. The latter unfastened the rope and paddledclumsily across. A few minutes later, Jacob heard the turning of thekeys in the lock of the outer door and their footsteps ascending thestairs. Montague peered in through the bars. A little cloud of tobaccosmoke blew into the place.

  "Well, Jacob, my Napoleon of finance, how goes it?" he enquiredlightly.

  "If you'll step inside for two minutes, I'll show you," Jacobanswered.

  Mr. Dane Montague chuckled.

  "I have never graduated in the fistic arts myself," he confessed."Besides, once bit, twice shy, you know. We are going to put thislittle thing through without any unnecessary risk."

  "What is it?" Jacob demanded. "Money?"

  "Money comes in all right," Hartwell muttered from behind, in an eviltone, "but I guess there's something more than that coming to youbefore you quit, Pratt."

  "Why don't you come in and give it me, then?" Jacob asked. "You're abigger man than I am, by a long way."

  "We're going to wait a bit," Hartwell retorted with a chuckle. "You'vebeen living a little high, Jacob Pratt. We think your system wantslowering."

  "You're not talking business yet, then?"

  "Not just yet, my dear friend," Montague interposed. "It seems a shameto have taken a dislike to so amiable a gentleman, but the factremains that we do not like you, Joe Hartwell and I. Once or twice youhave been too clever for us. We want to linger over the time when weare just a little too clever for you. So au revoir, Jacob Pratt, untilafter lunch."

  They came again after lunch, redolent of food and drink and tobacco.

  "What about a cold chicken and a pint of Mumm, eh?" Montague suggestedthrough the bars.

  "Go to hell!" Jacob, who had forgotten his early breakfast and likedhis meals regularly, retorted.

  They indulged in a few other pleasantries, which Jacob cut short withan abrupt question.

  "How long is this tomfoolery going on?" he demanded. "What's the endof it all going to be?"

  Montague, with his unpleasant, leering face, was pushed away frombehind the grating. Hartwell took his place.

  "You're going to be paid out for that upper cut you gave me, for onething," he announced. "We're going to wait until you're tamed, andthen you're going to be thrashed within an inch of your life. Afterthat, there's a little estate of the Marquis's round here you mightlike to buy. We've got the agreement all drawn out."

  "And after that," Montague shouted, "God knows what will happen toyou!"...

  The afternoon wore on. Towards five o'clock, Jacob, who was sitting ina corner, holding his head, was conscious of a strange sound fromseawards. He hurried over to the other window. In a little dinghy,tossed like a cork by the heavy swell, he could see Lady Mary, in anexceedingly becoming bathing dress, trying to balance herself with anoar against the side of the precipitous cliff.

  "Are you in there?" she called out.

  "Hullo!" Jacob answered. "I should think I was!"

  She leaned down and picked up a sea-fishing rod. Jacob was terrifiedas he saw her swaying backwards and forwards.

  "Be careful!" he shouted.

  "I'm all right," she assured him. "If I get a ducking, don't beafraid. I'm out for a swim, anyway. If I can cast inside the openingthere, can you reach it?"

  "If it's anything to eat, I will," he promised.

  "Here goes, then!"

  At the fifth or sixth attempt, a package, wrapped in oilskins, landedinside the aperture. Jacob, lifting himself from the floor, reached itat once, undid the fastening, and sent the line clear.

  "Don't go away," she cried. "There's whisky coming."

  "Angel!" he shouted.

  "May take me some time," she called back. "I've had to take out ajoint of the rod to carry the weight."

  At the third attempt, a couple of flasks, tied together, cameclattering into the aperture. Jacob pounced upon them with joy.

  "There's some water there," she told him. "Throw all the paper away.I'll be round again in the morning before any one's up, at about fiveo'clock. Don't let them scare you. I'm doing things."

  "Bless you!" he called out.

  "Do you like this bathing suit, or do you prefer the one I woreyesterday?"

  "You look divine," he answered. "So do these beef sandwiches."

  "What luck those apertures slope downwards," she said, "or youcouldn't see me!"

  "The luck of my life," he agreed, with his mouth full.

  "Do you know why they do slope downwards?" she asked.

  "No idea."

  "So that prisoners, when they get tired of it, can roll down into thesea."

  "I shan't be tired of this for a long time," he assured her.

  There was a pause. Jacob ceased eating for a moment to gaze withadmiration at the girl in the boat, carried up and down by the swell,but balancing herself always with an amazing confidence.

  "I say, I'm awfully sorry about this," she called up.

  "Seems a trifle feudal," he replied. "What will be done with myremains?"

  "You eat your sandwiches and don't worry," she insisted. "I told you Iwas doing things. If they get violent, I'll take a hand.--I'll have toget back unless I want to be swamped."...

  Jacob ate half his sandwiches, drank a good deal of whisky and water,and took a little exercise. He then had a nap, woke up and finishedhis sandwiches with an amazingly good appetite, had another whisky andwater and thrust the flask into his pocket. He lit a cigarette,doubled up his coat, and was lounging against the wall when he heardthe key once more turn in the lock of the downstairs door. There wasthe sound of ascending footsteps, and presently Montague's glitteringshirt front appeared through the grating. Joe Hartwell again was byhis side. They peered in.

  "Cheerio!" Jacob exclaimed.

  Montague was a little taken aback.

  "You're bearing up pretty well," he observed.

  "What have I got to bear up about?" Jacob demanded. "I've just had adamned good meal."

  Montague regarded his prisoner with a gleam of admiration in his face.

  "You're a well plucked 'un, Pratt," he observed. "What a saddle ofmutton we've just had for dinner!"

  "Nothing to the sirloin I've just had," Jacob rejoined.

  Hartwell pushed a flask of water and a hunk of bread through thegrating.

  "Here," he said, "do you feel like giving a tenner for a whisky andsoda?"

  "I'm not thirsty, thanks," Jacob replied, collecting his supper."These will make an excellent meal for me."
/>   "He's a little wonder," Montague muttered.

  "Nothing to be done with him to-night," Hartwell growled. "Let's leavethe little blighter."

  Jacob slept amazingly well. He was awakened by the sound of a soft andinsistent whistle below. He sprang up and looked through the aperture.The wind had dropped in the night. Eastwards were long bars of amberand mauve, piercing the faint mist. Below, Lady Mary scarcely rockedin her boat.

  "Well, dear guest," she called up, "how was the spare-room bed?"

  "Hard," he admitted. "Never mind, I've slept like a top."

  "Listen," she continued. "It's such a wonderful morning that I'vebrought you quite a stock. No one comes in the room, do they?"

  "They daren't," Jacob answered tersely.

  "I'm sending you up some nails and string. What you can't eat or drinknow, you can let hang down. And listen. I'm sending you something elseup. Don't use it unless they get brutal."

  "They're waiting for me to lose strength!" Jacob chuckled. "I neverfelt so fit in my life. How high is it from this window?"

  "Thirty feet."

  "Why shouldn't I make a dive for it?" he suggested.

  "Because there are sunken rocks everywhere around," she replied. "Icouldn't get here myself unless I knew the way. Now, then, get ready."

  One by one, a flask of coffee, two packets of sandwiches, a small boxof nails and some string reached him, and last of all a smallrevolver, fully charged.

  "Got everything?" she asked.

  "Rather!" he answered. "How is your hospitable father?"

  "A little impatient," she answered. "He is going to sell you a coupleof thousand acres of moor and a tumble-down manse for thirty thousandpounds."

  "Is he?" Jacob asked. "Shall I be able to wear kilts and have abagpipe man?"

  "There are no feudal rights," she told him. "Besides, I don't thinkyou'd look well in kilts."

  "Well, there isn't going to be any thirty thousand pounds," Jacobdeclared.

  She took out her oars.

  "I hope some day you'll make up to me for all this," she said. "I seemto spend the whole of my time looking after you."

  "If it weren't for that fellow Maurice!" Jacob called after her, asshe disappeared.

  They left him alone that day until after luncheon, and Jacob began tofind the time hang heavily upon his hands. There was very little towatch except the wheeling seagulls, now and then a distant steamer,and the waves breaking upon the crag-strewn shore. Through thelandward aperture, the great house all through the long, sunny morningseemed somnolent, almost deserted, but towards luncheon time amotor-car arrived from the direction of the station, containing asingle passenger. About half an hour later three men came down theshingle, stepped into the boat and paddled across towards thetower,--Montague, Hartwell, and a brawny, thickset companion dressedin a rather loud black-and-white check suit and a cap of the samematerial. Jacob sat facing the door with his hand behind his back.Some slices of bread and a bottle of water were pushed through thegrating, as before. Then Montague's face appeared, sleek and smiling,with a new glitter of malevolence in the beady eyes.

  "What about luncheon to-day, Jacob?" he demanded. "A small chicken pieand a cold sirloin of beef, eh, with lettuce and tomato salad, andhalf a stilton to follow. A glass or two of port with the cheese, ifyou fancy it."

  Jacob shook his head.

  "I've done better than that," he replied. "I've had_pate-de-foie-gras_ sandwiches and a pint of champagne. I wish youfellows wouldn't disturb my after-luncheon nap. I'd much rather youlooked in about tea time."

  Hartwell dragged his companion to one side and pressed his ownclean-shaven, pudgy face against the bars.

  "Say, Jacob Pratt," he began, "just put that bluff away for a moment,if you can. I want a word with you."

  "There is nothing to prevent it," Jacob assured him. "I am an earnestlistener."

  "You fancy yourself some as a boxer, don't you?" queried Hartwell.

  "You ought to know what I can do," Jacob answered, with a reminiscentsmile.

  Hartwell's face darkened.

  "Curse you, you little pup!" he muttered. "Anyways," he went on, "youwon't be quite so flip with your tongue in half an hour's time. We'vea gentleman here from Glasgow come down to amuse you. Like to have alook at him?"

  The door was opened and closed again. The man in the black-and-whitecheck suit entered. Seen at close quarters, he turned out to be a veryfine specimen of the bull-necked, sandy-haired prize fighter. He cameabout a yard into the place and stood grinning at Jacob.

  "Like an introduction?" Hartwell continued. "Shake hands with theGlasgow Daisy, then--Mr. Jacob Pratt."

  Jacob looked the newcomer up and down.

  "To what am I indebted," he asked, "for this unexpected pleasure?"

  The Glasgow Daisy grinned again, until his face seemed all frecklesand flashing white teeth.

  "Guv'nor," he announced, "I've got to give you a hiding, but I'd neverhave taken the job on if I'd known you were a bantam weight. Bettercome on and get it over. I shan't do more than knock you about a bit."

  "I don't think you'll even do that," Jacob replied, without moving.

  The man solemnly took off his coat, unfastened his collar and tie andturned up his shirt sleeves as though he meant business.

  "Come on, guv'nor," he invited, making a feint in Jacob's direction."I won't hurt you more than I can help."

  Jacob withdrew his right hand from behind his back, and the littlerevolver which he was holding flashed in a glint of sunshine.

  "I'll give you till I count ten to get outside," he said.

  The man promptly abandoned his sparring position and turned towardsthe grating.

  "'Ere," he called out truculently, "see that, guv'nor?"

  "Don't be afraid," Hartwell rejoined. "It isn't loaded."

  The prize fighter took a step forward.

  "... ten," concluded Jacob, who had been counting all the time.

  There was a sharp report and a yell of pain. The prize fighter,hopping on his right leg and holding his left ankle, seized a bar ofthe grating.

  "If you don't let me out, you b--y b--s, I'll pound you both into ajelly!" he shouted. "I've a damned good mind to do it now! This'llcost you five hundred quid, this will! If I can't fight next Tuesday,it'll cost you a thousand. Open the b--y door!"

  They let him out, and Jacob, through the aperture, watched the threemen make slow progress to the boat, one on each side supporting theGlasgow Daisy, whose language the whole of the way was vociferous andobscene. Afterwards Jacob once more found time hanging heavily uponhis hands. He sharpened his penknife and commenced to carve hisinitials on the wall. There were no signs of Lady Mary or any othervisitors until after dinner. Then the Marquis came slowly down fromthe castle, paused to light a cigarette when he reached the boat, andpaddled himself over, looking around all the time with the air of oneenjoying the scenery and the beautiful evening. Finally he climbed thestone stairs and presented himself at the other side of the grating.

  "Mr. Pratt," he said, "I am sorry that you did not appreciate ourfriends' little effort to provide you with some amusement in the wayof your favourite sport."

  "Thank you," Jacob replied, "I don't fight professional heavyweights."

  "I am afraid," the Marquis observed with a sigh, "that this particularheavyweight will not be in fighting trim again for some months. Aheavy responsibility for you, Mr. Pratt."

  Jacob smiled.

  "I didn't engage him," he said.

  "In a sense, perhaps, you did not," the Marquis admitted, "but yoursappears to be the hand which maimed him. The Glasgow Daisy, as Ibelieve he is called in pugilistic circles, appears to be a person ofconsiderable determination, not to say obstinacy. He declines to leavethe Castle until he has received at least five hundred pounds onaccount of his injury. I left him arguing the matter with Mr.Montague. The interview promised to be a stormy one."

  Jacob laughed softly.

  "I hope he gives them both a hiding," he remarked
.

  The Marquis coughed, and, coming a little nearer to the grating,scrutinised Jacob with some surprise.

  "You seem to be keeping very fit," he observed.

  "Doing me a lot of good, this change of diet," Jacob assured him. "Weall eat too much."

  "Nevertheless," the Marquis proceeded, "we feel that it is time ourlittle enterprise was ended. I have a fancy to have you for aneighbour, Mr. Pratt."

  "Very charming of you," Jacob replied. "So far as I have seen anythingof the country around, I like it."

  "That," the Marquis rejoined, "simplifies matters. The Lasswade MoorEstate, adjoining mine, is yours for fifty thousand pounds. I have theagreement in my pocket. To-morrow the price will be fifty-fivethousand, and the next day sixty thousand."

  "When can I inspect the property?" Jacob asked.

  The Marquis coughed.

  "I fear," he replied, "that there will be no opportunity for anythingof that sort. You must take my word for it that the land which,although fortunately unentailed, has been in the possession of myfamily for centuries, is in every respect desirable."

  "Moorland and boulder-strewn heath, I suppose?" Jacob queried.

  "It possesses the characteristics of common land," the other admitted."It would make an excellent golf links."

  "Nothing doing," Jacob decided. "When I buy an estate, I shall want ahouse with it."

  "A mansion suitable to your requirements could easily be built."

  Jacob shook his head.

  "The idea of building a modern house in such a spot," he said,"distresses me."

  "I understand, then, that you decline to purchase my property?" theMarquis asked regretfully.

  "In toto and absolutely," was the firm reply. "In other words, I amnot having any."

  "In that case," the visitor announced, after a brief pause, "it is mysomewhat painful duty to tell you that we have decided to stop yourdaily supply of bread and water. You thrive too well on it."

  "Just as you like," was the careless rejoinder. "I can do with orwithout food."

  The Marquis contemplated his guest for several moments in silence.

  "You will permit me to say, Mr. Pratt, that your courage moves me tothe profoundest admiration," he declared at last. "I trust that afterthis little business negotiation is concluded, I shall have theprivilege of your friendship for many years to come."

  "You're rather boring me," Jacob told him mildly. "I want to get onwith my initials. I'm doing them in Old English."

  "I should be sorry to interfere with so courteous a duty," the Marquisreplied--and departed.