CHAPTER IV
AN EXTRAORDINARY CHAMBERMAID, A MIDNIGHT TRAGEDY, AND A MAN WHO SAID"THANK YOU"
Miss Thackeray was "turning down" his bed when he entered his roomafter bidding his new actor friends good night. All three promised tobe up bright and early in the morning to speed him on his way with goodwishes. Mr. Rushcroft declared that he would break the habit of yearsand get up in time to partake of a seven o'clock breakfast with him.Mr. Dillingford and Mr. Bacon, though under sentence to eat at six withthe rest of the "help," were quite sanguine that old man Jones wouldn'tmind if they ate again at seven. So it was left that Barnes was to havecompany for breakfast.
He was staggered and somewhat abashed by the appearance of MissThackeray. She was by no means dressed as a chambermaid should be, norwas she as dumb. On the contrary, she confronted him in the choicestraiment that her wardrobe contained, and she was bright and cheery andexceedingly incompetent. It was her costume that shocked him. Not onlywas she attired in a low-necked, rose-coloured evening gown, liberallybespangled with tinsel, but she wore a vast top-heavy picture-hat whosecrown of black was almost wholly obscured by a gorgeous white featherthat once must have adorned the king of all ostriches. She was not atall his idea of a chambermaid. He started to back out of the door withan apology for having blundered into the wrong room by mistake.
"Come right in," she said cheerily. "I'll soon be through. I suppose Ishould have done all this an hour ago, but I just had to write a fewletters." She went on with her clumsy operations. "I don't know whomade up this bed but whoever did was determined that it should stayput. I never knew that bed clothes could be tucked in as far and astight as these. Tight enough for old Mother Jones to have done itherself, and heaven knows she's a tight one. I am Miss Thackeray. Thisis Mr. Barnes, I believe."
He bowed, still quite overcome.
"You needn't be scared," she cried, observing his confusion. "This ismy regular uniform. I'm starting a new style for chambermaids. Did itparalyse you to find me here?"
"I must confess to a moment of indecision," he said, smiling.
"Followed by a moment of uneasiness," she added, slapping the bolster."You didn't know what to think, now did you?"
"I couldn't believe my eyes."
She abandoned her easy, careless manner. A look of mortification cameinto her eyes as she straightened up and faced him. Her voice was atrifle husky when she spoke again, after a moment's pause.
"You see, Mr. Barnes, these are the only duds I have with me. It wasn'tnecessary to put on this hat, of course, but I did it simply to makethe character complete. I might just as well make beds and cleanwashstands in a picture hat as in a low-necked gown, so here I am."
She was a tall, pleasant-faced girl of twenty-three or four, not unlikeher father in many respects. Her features were rather heavy, her mouthlarge but comely, her eyes dark and lustrous behind heavy lashes. Asshe now appeared before Barnes, she was the typical stage societywoman: in other words, utterly commonplace. In a drawing-room she wouldhave been as conspicuously out of place as she was in her presentoccupation.
"I am very sorry," he said lamely. "I have heard something of yourmisfortunes from your father and--the others. It's--it's really hardluck."
"I call it rather good luck to have got away with the only dress in thelot that cost more than tuppence," she said, smiling again. "Lord knowswhat would have happened to me if they had dropped down on us at theend of the first act. I was the beggar's daughter, you see,--absolutelyin rags."
"You might have got away in your ordinary street clothes, however," hesaid; "which would have been pleasanter, I dare say."
"I dare say," she agreed brightly. "Glad to have met you. I thinkyou'll find everything NEARLY all right. Good night, sir."
She smiled brightly, unaffectedly, as she turned toward the open door.There was something forelorn about her, after all, and his heart wastouched.
"Better luck, Miss Thackeray. Every cloud has its silver lining."
She stopped and faced him once more. "That's the worst bromide in thelanguage," she said. "If I were to tell you how many clouds I've seenand how little silver, you'd think I was lying. This experience? Why,it's a joy compared to some of the jolts we've had,--dad and me. Andthe others, too, for that matter. We've had to get used to it. Fiveyears ago I would have jumped out of a ten story window before I'd havelet you see me in this get-up. I know you'll laugh yourself sick overthe way I look, and so will your friends when you tell them about me,but, thank the Lord, I shan't be in a position to hear you. So whyshould I mind? What a fellow doesn't know, isn't going to hurt him. Youhaven't laughed in my face, and I'm grateful for that. What you doafterward can't make the least bit of difference to me."
"I assure you, Miss Thackeray, that I shall not laugh, nor shall I everrelate the story of your--"
"There is one more bromide that I've never found much virtue in," sheinterrupted, not disagreeably, "and that is: 'it's too good to betrue.' Good night. Sleep tight."
She closed the door behind her, leaving him standing in the middle ofthe room, perplexed but amused.
"By George," he said to himself, still staring at the closed door,"they're wonders, all of them. We could all take lessons in philosophyfrom such as they. I wish I could do something to help them out of--"He sat down abruptly on the edge of the bed and pulled his wallet fromhis pocket. He set about counting the bills, a calculating frown in hiseyes. Then he stared at the ceiling, summing up. "I'll do it," he said,after a moment of mental figuring. He told off a half dozen bills andslipped them into his pocket. The wallet sought its usual resting placefor the night: under a pillow.
He was healthy and he was tired. Two minutes after his head touched thepillow he was sound asleep, losing consciousness even as he fought tostay awake in order that he might continue to vex himself with theextraordinary behavior and statement of Putnam Jones.
He was aroused shortly after midnight by shouts, apparently justoutside his window. A man was calling in a loud voice from the roadbelow; an instant later he heard a tremendous pounding on the taverndoor.
Springing out of bed, he rushed to the window. There were horses infront of the house,--several of them,--and men on foot moving likeshadows among them. A shuffling of feet came up to his open window; theintervening roof shut off his view of the porch and all that wastranspiring. His eyes, accustomed to darkness, made out at least fivehorses in the now unlighted area before the tavern.
Turning from the window, he unlocked and opened the door into the hall.Some one was clattering down the narrow staircase. The bolts on thefront door shot back with resounding force, and there came the hoarsejumble of excited voices as men crowded through the entrance. PutnamJones's voice rose above the clamour.
"Keep quiet! Do you want to wake everybody on the place?" he was sayingangrily. "What's up? This is a fine time o' night to be--Good Lord!What's the matter with him?"
"Telephone for a doctor, Put,--damn' quick! This one's still alive. Theother one is dead as a door nail up at Jim Conley's house. Git ole DocJames down from Saint Liz. Bring him in here, boys. Where's yourlights? Easy now! Eas-EE!"
Barnes waited to hear no more. His blood seemed to be running ice-coldas he retreated into the room and began scrambling for his clothes. Thething he feared had come to pass. Disaster had overtaken her in thatwild, senseless dash up the mountain road. He was cursing half aloud ashe dressed, cursing the fool who drove that machine and who now wasperhaps dying down there in the tap-room. "The other one is dead as adoor nail," kept running through his head,--"the other one."
The rumble of voices and the shuffling of feet continued, indistinctbut laden with tragedy. The curious hush of catastrophe seemed to topthe confusion that infected the place, inside and out. Barnes found hiselectric pocket torch and dressed hurriedly, though not fully, by itsconstricted light. As he was pulling on his heavy walking shoes, a headwas inserted through the half open door, and an excited voice calledout:
"You awake? Good work! Hust
le along, will you? No more sleep to-night,old chap. Man dying downstairs. Shot smack through the lungs. Get amove--"
"Shot?" exclaimed Barnes.
"So they say," replied the agitated Mr. Dillingford, entering the room.He had slipped on his trousers and was then in the act of pulling hissuspenders over his shoulders. His unlaced shoes gaped broadly; theupper part of his body was closely encased in a once blue undershirt;his abundant black hair was tousled,--some of it, indeed, having theappearance of standing on end. And in his wide eyes there was a look ofhorror. "I didn't hear much of the story. Old man Jones is telephoningfor a doctor and--"
"Did you say that the man was shot?" repeated Barnes, bewildered."Wasn't it an automobile accident?"
"Search ME. Gosh, I had one look at that fellow's face down thereand--I didn't hear another word that was said. I never saw a man's facelook like that. It was the colour of grey wall paper. Hurry up! Old manJones told me to call you. He says you understand some of the foreignlanguages, and maybe you can make out what the poor devil is trying tosay." "Do they know who he is?"
"Sure. He's been staying in the house for three days. The other onespoke English all right but this one not a word."
"Did they ride away from here about nine o'clock?"
"Yes. They had their own horses and said they were going to spend thenight at Spanish Falls so's they could meet the down train that goesthrough at five o'clock in the morning. But hustle along, please. He'strying to talk and he's nearly gone."
Barnes, buoyed by a sharp feeling of relief, followed the actordownstairs and into the tap-room. A dozen men were there, gatheredaround two tables that had been drawn together. Transient lodgers, invarious stages of dishabille, popped out of all sorts of passagewaysand joined the throng. The men about the table, on which was stretchedthe figure of the wounded man, were undoubtedly natives: farmers,woodsmen or employees of the tavern. At a word from Putnam Jones, theyopened up and allowed Barnes to advance to the side of the man.
"See if you c'n understand him, Mr. Barnes," said the landlord.Perspiration was dripping from his long, raw-boned face. "And you,Bacon,--you and Dillingford hustle upstairs and get a mattress off'none of the beds. Stand at the door there, Pike, and don't let any womenin here. Go away, Miss Thackeray! This is no place for you."
Miss Thackeray pushed her way past the man who tried to stop her andjoined Barnes. Her long black hair hung in braids down her back; aboveher forehead clustered a mass of ringlets, vastly disordered but notuntidy. A glance would have revealed the gaudy rose-coloured skirthanging below the bottom of the long rain-coat she had snatched from apeg in the hall-way.
"It is the place for me," she said sharply. "Haven't you men got senseenough to put something under his head? Where is he hurt? Get thatcushion, you. Stick, it under here when I lift his head. Oh, you poorthing! We'll be as quick as possible. There!"
"You'd better go away," said Barnes, himself ghastly pale. "He's beenshot. There is a lot of blood--don't you know. It's splendid of you--"
"Dangerously?" she cried, shrinking back, her eyes fixed in dread uponthe white face.
The man's eyes were closed, but at the sound of a woman's voice heopened them. The hand with which he clutched at his breast slid off andseemed to be groping for hers. His breathing was terrible. There wasblood at the corners of his mouth, and more oozed forth when his lipsparted in an effort to speak.
With a courage that surprised even herself, the girl took his hand inhers. It was wet and warm. She did not dare look at it.
"Merci, madame," struggled from the man's lips, and he smiled.
Barnes had heard of the French soldiers who, as they died, said "thankyou" to those who ministered to them, and smiled as they said it. Hehad always marvelled at the fortitude that could put gratefulness abovephysical suffering, and his blood never failed to respond to anexquisite thrill of exaltation under such recitals. He at once deducedthat the injured man, while probably not a Frenchman, at least wasfamiliar with the language.
He was young, dark-haired and swarthy. His riding-clothes werewell-made and modish.
Barnes leaned over and spoke to him in French. The dark, pain-strickeneyes closed, and an almost imperceptible shake of the head signifiedthat he did not understand. Evidently he had acquired only a few of thesimple French expressions. Barnes had a slight knowledge of Spanish andItalian, and tried again with no better results. German was his lastresort, and he knew he would fail once more, for the man obviously wasnot Teutonic.
The bloody lips parted, however, and the eyes opened with a piteous,appealing expression in their depths. It was apparent that there wassomething he wanted to say, something he had to say before he died. Hegasped a dozen words or more in a tongue utterly unknown to Barnes, whobent closer to catch the feeble effort. It was he who now shook hishead; with a groan the sufferer closed his eyes in despair. He chokedand coughed violently an instant later.
"Get some water and a towel," cried Miss Thackeray, tremulously. Shewas very white, but still clung to the man's hand. "Be quick! Behindthe bar." Then she turned to Jones. "Don't call my father. He can'tstand the sight of blood," she said.
Barnes unbuttoned the coat and revealed the blood-soaked white shirt.
"Better leave this to me," he said in her ear. "There's nothing you cando. He's done for. Please go away."
"Oh, I sha'n't faint--at least, not yet. Poor fellow! I've seen himupstairs and wondered who he was. Is he really going to die?"
"Looks bad," said Barnes, gently opening the shirt front. Several ofthe craning men turned away suddenly.
"Can't you understand him?" demanded Putnam Jones, from the oppositeside.
"No. Did you get the doctor?"
"He's on the way by this time. He's got a little automobile. Ought tobe here in ten or fifteen minutes."
"Who is he, Mr. Jones?"
"He is registered as Andrew Paul, from New York. That's all I know. Theother man put his name down as Albert Roon. He seemed to be the bossand this man a sort of servant, far as I could make out. They nevertalked much and seldom came downstairs. They had their meals in theirroom. Bacon served them. Where is Bacon? Where the hell--oh, themattress. Now, we'll lift him up gentle-like while you fellers slip itunder him. Easy now. Brace up, my lad, we--we won't hurt you. Lordy!Lordy! I'm sorry--Gosh! I thought he was gone!" He wiped his brow witha shaking hand.
"There is nothing we can do," said Barnes, "except try to stanch theflow of blood. He is bleeding inwardly, I'm afraid. It's a clean wound,Mr. Jones. Like a rifle shot, I should say."
"That's just what it is," said one of the men, a tall woodsman. "Thefeller who did it was a dead shot, you c'n bet on that. He got t' otherman square through the heart."
"Lordy, but this will raise a rumpus," groaned the landlord. "We'llhave detectives an'--"
"I guess they got what was comin' to 'em," said another of the men.
"What's that? Why, they was ridin' peaceful as could be to SpanishFalls. What do you mean by sayin' that, Jim Conley? But wait a minute!How does it happen that they were up near your dad's house? Thatcertainly ain't on the road to Span--"
"Spanish Falls nothin'! They wasn't goin' to Spanish Falls any more'n Iam at this minute. They tied their hosses up the road just above ourhouse," said young Conley, lowering his voice out of consideration forthe feelings of the helpless man. "It was about 'leven o'clock, Ireckon. I was comin' home from singin' school up at Number Ten, an' Ipassed the hosses hitched to the fence. Naturally I stopped, curiouslike. There wasn't no one around, fer as I could see, so I thought I'dtake a look to see whose hosses they were. I thought it was dernedfunny, them hosses bein' there at that time o' night an' no one around.So as I said before, I thought I'd take a look. I know every hoss ferten mile around. So I thought I'd take--"
"You said that three times," broke in Jones impatiently.
"Well, to make a long story short, I thought I'd take a look. I neverseen either of them animals before. They didn't belong around here. SoI thought I'
d better hustle down to the house an' speak to pa about it.Looked mighty queer to me. Course, thinks I, they might belong tosomebody visitin' in there at Green Fancy, so I thought I'd--"
"Green Fancy?" said Barnes, starting.
"Was it up that far?" demanded Jones.
"They was hitched jest about a hundred yards below Mr. Curtis'spropity, on the off side o' the road. Course it's quite a ways in fromthe road to the house, an' I couldn't see why if it was anybody callin'up there they didn't ride all the ways up, 'stead o' walkin' throughthe woods. So I thought I'd speak to pa about it. Say," and he pausedabruptly, a queer expression in his eyes, "you don't suppose he knowswhat I'm sayin', do you? I wouldn't say anything to hurt the poorfeller's feelin's fer--"
"He doesn't know what you are saying," said Barnes.
"But, dern it, he jest now looked at me in the funniest way. It's givenme the creeps."
"Go on," said one of the men.
"Well, I hadn't any more'n got to our front gate when I heard some onerunning in the road up there behind me. 'Fore I knowed what washappenin', bang went a gun. I almost jumped out'n my boots. I leptbehind that big locus' tree in front of our house and listened. Therunnin' had stopped. The hosses was rarin' an' tearin' so I thoughtI'd--"
"Where'd the shot come from?" demanded Jones.
"Up the road some'eres, I couldn't swear just where. Must 'a' been upby the road that cuts in to Green Fancy. So I thought I'd hustle in an'see if pa was awake, an' git my gun. Looked mighty suspicious, thinksI, that gun shot. Jest then pa stuck his head out'n the winder an'yelled what the hell's the matter. You betcher life I sung out who Iwas mighty quick, 'cause pa's purty spry with a gun an' I didn't wanthim takin' me fer burglars sneakin' around the house. While we wuztalkin' there, one of the hosses started our way lickety-split, an' inabout two seconds it went by us. It was purty dark but we see plain asday that there was a man in the saddle, bendin' low over the hoss'sneck and shoutin' to it. Well, we shore was guessin'. We waited acouple o' minutes, wonderin' what to do, an' listenin' to the hossgittin' furder and furder away in the direction of the cross-roads.Then, 'way down there by the pike we heerd another shot. Right therean' then pa said he'd put on his clothes an' we'd set out to see whatit was all about. I had it figgered out that the feller on the hoss hadshot the other one and was streakin' it fer town or some'eres. Thatsecond shot had me guessin' though. Who wuz he shootin' at now, thinksI.
"Well, pa come out with my gun an' his'n an' we walks up to where Iseen the hosses. Shore 'nough, one of 'em was still hitched to thefence, an' t'other was gone. We stood around a minute or two examinin'the hoss an' then pa says let's go up the road aways an' see if we c'nsee anything. An' by gosh, we hadn't gone more'n fifty feet afore wecome plumb on a man layin' in the middle of the road. Pa shook him an'he didn't let out a sound. He was warm but deader'n a tombstone. I wuzfer leavin' him there till we c'd git the coroner, but pa says no. We'dcarry him down to our porch, an' lay him there, so's he'd be out o'danger. Ma an' the kids wuz all up when we got him there, an' pa sentBill and Charley over to Mr. Pike's and Uncle John's to fetch 'emquick. I jumps on Polly an' lights out fer here, Mr. Jones, totelephone up to Saint Liz fer the sheriff an' the coroner, not givin' adang what I run into on the way. Polly shied somethin' terrible jestafore we got to the pike an' I come derned near bein' throwed. An'right there 'side the road was this feller, all in a heap. I went backan' jumped off. He was groanin' somethin' awful. Thinks I, you poorcuss, you must 'a' tried to stop that feller on hossback an' he plunkedyou. That accounted fer the second shot. But while I wuz tryin' to lifthim up an' git somethin' out'n him about the matter, I sees his bossstandin' in the road a couple o' rods away. I couldn't understand aword he said, so I thought I better go back home an' git some help,seein's I couldn't manage him by myself. So I dragged him up on thebank an' made him comfortable as I could, and lit out fer home. Wethought we'd better bring him up here, Mr. Jones, it bein' just as nearan' you could git the doctor sooner. I hitched up the buck-board andwent back. Pa an' some of the other fellers took their guns an' went upin the woods lookin' fer the man that done the shootin'. The thing thatworries all of us is did the same man do the shootin', or was there twoof 'em, one waitin' down at the cross-roads?"
"Must have been two," said Jones, thoughtfully. "The same man couldn'thave got down there ahead of him, that's sure. Did anybody go up toGreen Fancy to make inquiries?"
"'Twasn't necessary. Mr. Curtis heard the shootin' an' jest before weleft he sent a man out to see what it was all about. The old skeezicksthat's been drivin' his car lately come down half-dressed. He saidnothin' out of the way had happened up at Green Fancy. Nobody had beennosin' around their place, an' if they had, he said, there wasn'tanybody there who could hit the side of a barn with a rifle."
"It's most mysterious," said Barnes, glancing around the circle of awedfaces. "There must have been some one lying in wait for these men, andwith a very definite purpose in mind."
"Strikes me," said Jones, "that these two men were up to some kind ofdirty work themselves, else why did they say they were goin' to SpanishFalls? It's my idee that they went up that road to lay fer somebodycomin' down from the border, and they got theirs good an' plentyinstead of the other way round. They were queer actin' men, I'll haveto say that."
His eyes met Barnes' and there was a queer light in them.
"You don't happen to know anything about this, do you, Mr. Barnes?" hedemanded, suddenly.
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