Complete Works of E W Hornung

by E. W. Hornung

  “We’ll lock the door as quietly as possible.”

  This was done.

  “Now the props,” said Naomi.

  Engelhardt had guessed what they were for. He helped her to fix them, with one wedged between floor and counter, and the other pressing the heavy woodwork of the door. It now appeared how craftily Naomi had cut her timbers. They met the door, two at the top, two at the bottom, and four about the centre. Still the brave engineer was distressed.

  “I meant to hammer them down,” she murmured. “Now I daren’t.”

  “We’ll put all our weight on them instead,” said Engelhardt. They did so with a will, until each prop had creaked in turn. Then they listened.

  “Out with the light,” said Naomi. “There are no windows to give us away — but still!”

  He blew it out. As yet his own ears had heard nothing, and he was beginning to wonder whether Naomi had been deceived. They listened a little longer. Then she said:

  “We’re provisioned for a siege. Did you see the flask and things on the counter?”

  “I did. How in the world did you find time to get them ready?”

  “I had them ready before you came. They were for you.”

  The two were crouching close together between the props. It was a natural though not a necessary attitude. The moon was shining through the skylight upon one of the walls; the multifarious tins and bottles on the shelves made the most of the white light; and faint reflections reached the faces of Naomi and the piano-tuner — so close to each other, so pale, so determined, and withal so wistful as their eyes met. Engelhardt first looked his thanks, and then stammered them out in a broken whisper. Even as he did so the girl raised a finger to her lips.

  “Hark! There they are.”

  “Yes, I hear them. They won’t hear us yet a bit.”

  “They mustn’t hear us at all; but off with your boots — we may have to move about.”

  She had already kicked off her shoes, and now, because he had only one of his own, she pulled off his boots with her two hands.

  “You should not have done that!”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s dreadful! Just as though you were my servant.”

  “Mr. Engelhardt, we must be everything to each other — —”

  She shot up her hand and ceased. The voices without were now distinguishable.

  “To-night!” he muttered, bitterly, before heeding them.

  Naomi, on the other hand, was at the last pitch of attention; but not to him. She inclined her head as she knelt to hear the better. The voices were approaching from one side.

  “Ay, that’s where he dropped — just there!” said one. It was Tigerskin’s mate, Bill.

  “Take the key from the door!” Engelhardt whispered to Naomi, who was the nearer it. They had forgotten to do this. For one wild moment the girl hesitated, then she cautiously reached out her hand and withdrew the key without a scratch.

  “So this is the crib!” they heard Bo’s’n say.

  “The same old crib,” said Bill. “Same as it was ten years ago, only plastered up a bit. I suppose it is locked, mate?”

  The handle was tried. The door shook ever so little. The two inside gazed at the props and held their breath. If one of them should be shaken down!

  “Ay, it’s locked all right; and I reckon it’s true enough about the girl sleeping with the key under her pillow, and all.”

  “Blast your reckonings!” said Bill. “Make sure the key ain’t in the door on t’other side.”

  The thimbleful of starlit sky which Naomi had been watching for the last minute and a half was suddenly wiped away. She heard Bo’s’n breathing hard as he stooped and peered. The key grew colder in her hand.

  “No, there ain’t no key, Bill.”

  “That’s all right. They’re both in their beds then, and that little suck-o’-my-thumb hasn’t got here yet. When he does, God ‘elp him!”

  The voices were those of Bill and Bo’s’n. For the moment these two seemed to be alone together.

  “Ay, ay, we’d string the beggar up fast enough another time!”

  “String him up? Yes, by his heels, and shoot holes through him while he dangled.”

  “Beginning where you don’t kill. Holy smoke! but I wish he’d turn up now.”

  “So do I — the swine! But here comes the ringer. What cheer, matey?”

  “It’s right,” said Simons. “The little devil’s locked her door; but there are her boots outside, same as if she was stoppin’ at a blessed ‘otel. A fat lot she cared whether her precious pal was bushed or whether he wasn’t! We thought you was telling us lies, mother, but, by cripes, you wasn’t!”

  “I should think not!” said a fourth voice. “She wouldn’t believe he was lost, but I knew he was; so I just saddled the night-horse after she was in bed and asleep, and was going straight to the shed to raise a search-party!”

  The pair within were staring at each other in dumb horror. That fourth voice was but too well known to them both. It was Mrs. Potter’s.

  CHAPTER XV THE NIGHT ATTACK

  “See here, mother!” said Bill. “There’s one or two things we want to know. Spit out the truth, and that’ll be all right. Tell us one lie, and there’ll be an end of you. Understand?”

  “I ought to.”

  “Right you are, then; now you know. What about this key?”

  “She keeps it in her room.”

  “Under her pillow, eh?”

  “That I can’t say; but she will tell you.”

  “So we reckon. Now look here. Will you take your oath there’s not another soul on the premises but you and her?”

  The pair within again held their breath. They must be discovered; but the longer they could postpone it the shorter would be their danger. Mrs. Potter’s heart was stout, however, and her tongue ready.

  “I swear it,” she cried, heartily.

  “What makes you so cussed sure?”

  “Why, it stands to reason. By rights there ought to be four of us. That’s with Sam Rowntree and Mr. Engelhardt. Sam’s gone off on his own hook somewhere” — Bill chuckled— “but nobody knows where. Mr. Engelhardt’s lost, as I told you. So there’s nobody left but mistress and me. How could there be?”

  “I don’t know or care a curse how there could be. I only know that if there is, you’ll have a pill to take without opening your mouth for it. About this chap that’s lost; you’ll take your oath he didn’t turn up before you left the station just now?”

  “I told you he hadn’t, as soon as ever you overtook me.”

  “You’ve got to swear it!” said Bill, savagely.

  “I swore it then.”

  “So she did,” said Simons, who had been grumbling openly during this cross-examination. “What’s the good of going over the same track twice, mate? Let her give us the feed she promised, and then let’s get to work.”

  “And so say I!” cried the Bo’s’n.

  “You shall have your supper in five minutes,” said Mrs. Potter, “if you’ll let me get it.”

  “All right, missus,” said Bill, after a pause. “Only mind, if we catch you in any hanky-panky, by God I’ll screw your neck till I put your face where your back-hair ought to be. Don’t you dare get on the cross with us, or there’ll be trouble! Come on, chaps. You show the way to the dining-room, mother, and light up; then we’ll....”

  The rest sounded indistinct in the store. The low crunching of the foot-falls in the sandy yard changed to a crisp clatter upon the homestead veranda. Naomi waited for that sign; then with a white face and eager hands she began to tear down, prop by prop, the barricade on which their very lives depended.

  “She shall not suffer for this, whoever else does,” she muttered. “At least she sha’n’t suffer alone.”

  “You mean to open the door?”

  “Yes, and catch her as she passes. To get to the kitchen she must pass close to the store. We’ll open the door, and if she’s wise she’ll pass three or four t
imes without turning her head; she’ll wait till they’re well at work; then she’ll come back for something else — and slip in.”

  As she spoke Naomi went round to the gun-rack, took down the Winchester repeating-rifle, loaded it and came back to the front of the store. Then she directed Engelhardt to unlock the door, she helping him to be gentle with the key. The lock was let back by degrees. A moment later the door was wide open, with Naomi standing as in a frame, the Winchester in her hands.

  The station-yard lay bathed and purified in the sweet moonlight. The well-palings opposite, and the barracks beyond, were as though newly painted white. The main building Naomi could not see without putting out her head, for it ran at right angles with the store, and she was standing well inside. But the night wind that blew freshly in her face bore upon it the noise of oaths and laughter from the dining-room, and presently that of footsteps, too. At this Naomi laid a finger on the trigger and stood like a rock, with the piano-tuner, like its shadow, at her side. But it was only Mrs. Potter who stepped into the moonlight. So far all was as Naomi had hoped and calculated.

  But no further. When the poor soul saw the open door she stopped dead, hesitated half a second, and then ran like a heavy doe for it and Naomi. The latter had made adverse signals in vain. She drew aside to let the woman in, and was also in time to prevent Engelhardt from slamming the door. She shut it gently, turned the key with as much care as before, and with a sternly whispered “hush!” kept still to listen. The other two stood as silent, though Mrs. Potter, in the moment of safety and of reaction, was heaving and quivering all over, shedding tears like rain, and swaying perilously where she stood. But she kept her feet bravely during that critical minute; it was but one; the next, a shout of laughter from the distance made it clear that by a miracle the incident had passed unobserved and unsuspected.

  “We may think ourselves lucky,” said Naomi, severely. Next moment she had thrown her arms round the old woman’s neck, and was covering her honest wrinkled face with her tears and kisses.

  The practical Engelhardt was busily engaged in replacing the props against the door. His one hand made him slow at the work. Naomi was herself again in time to help him, and now there was sturdy Mrs. Potter to lend her weight. The supports were soon firmer than ever, with gimlets and bradawls driven into the door above those at the greatest slant, which were thus in most danger of being forced out of place. Then came a minute’s breathing-space.

  “I had just got through the first gate,” Mrs. Potter was saying, “when I heard a galloping, and they were on me. Nay, Miss Naomi, it isn’t anything to be proud of. I just said the first things that came into my head about you both; there was no time to think. It’s only a mercy it’s turned out so well.”

  “It was presence of mind,” said Naomi. “We have scored an hour through it, and may another if they are long in missing you. If we can hold out till morning, someone may ride in from the shed. Don’t you hear them talking still?”

  “Yes; they’re more patient than I thought they’d be.”

  “They think you’re busy in the kitchen. When they find you’re not, they’ll waste their time looking all over the place for you — everywhere but here.”

  “Ay, but they’ll come here in the end, and then may the Lord have mercy on our souls!”

  “Come, come. They’re not going to get in as easily as all that. And if they do, what with the Winchester — —”

  “Hush!” said Engelhardt. He was kneeling among the props, with his ear close to the bottom of the door.

  All three listened. The voices were louder and more distinct. The men had come outside.

  “I don’t believe she’s there at all,” said one. “I see no light.”

  “Go you and have a look, Bo’s’n. Prick the old squaw up with the p’int o’ your knife. But if you find her trying to hide, or up to any o’ them games, I’d slit her throat and save the barney.”

  “By cripes, so would I!”

  “Ay, ay, messmates, but we’ll see — we’ll see.”

  All the voices were nearer now. Naomi had taken Mrs. Potter’s hand, and was squeezing it white. For some moments they could make out nothing more. Bo’s’n had evidently gone over to the kitchen. The other two were talking in low tones somewhere near the well-palings. Suddenly a muffled shout from the kitchen reached every ear.

  “She’s not here at all.”

  “Not there!”

  “Come and look for yourselves.”

  “By gock,” cried Bill, “let me just get my grip on her fat neck!”

  A moment later the three could be heard ransacking the kitchen, and calling upon the fugitive to come out, with threats and imprecations most horrible to hear even in the distance; but as they drew nearer, working swiftly from out-building to out-building, like ferrets in a rabbit-warren, the ferocity of their language rose to such a pitch that the hunted woman within fell back faint and trembling upon the counter. Naomi was quick as thought with the flask; but her own cool hand and steady eyes were as useful as the brandy, and the fit passed as swiftly as it had come. While it lasted, however, the only one to follow every move outside was the assiduous Engelhardt. He had not yet risen from his knees; but he raised himself a little as Mrs. Potter stood upright again, supported by Naomi.

  “It’s all right,” he whispered. “They’ve no idea where you are. Simons has had a look in the barracks, and Bo’s’n in the pines. But they’ve given you up now. They’re holding a council of war within five yards of us!”

  “Let’s listen,” said Naomi. “Their language won’t kill us.”

  They had quite given up Mrs. Potter. This was evident from the tail-end of a speech in which Bill bitterly repented not having “stiffened” both her and Engelhardt at sight.

  “As for getting to the shed,” said Simons, who was the obvious authority on this point, “that’ll take her a good hour and a half on foot. It’d be a waste of time and trouble to ride after her, though I’d like to see Bill at work on her — I should so! If she had her horse, it’d be another thing.”

  “Ay, ay,” cried the Bo’s’n. “Let the old gal rip.”

  Bill had been of the same opinion a moment before; but this indecent readiness to be beaten by an old woman was more than he could share or bear. He told his mate so in highly abusive terms. They retorted that he was beaten by that same old woman himself. Bill was not so sure of that; what about the bedroom with the boots outside? Nobody had looked in there.

  A brisk debate ensued, in which the voice of Simons rose loudest. Bill, on the other hand, spoke in a much lower tone than usual; his words did not penetrate into the store; it was as though they were meant not to. And yet it was Bill who presently cried aloud:

  “Then that’s agreed. We all three go together to rouse her up anyhow, whether the old gal’s there or whether she isn’t. Come on!”

  Apparently they went then and there.

  “Nice for me!” whispered Naomi. “Nice for us both, Mrs. Potter, if we weren’t safe — —”

  A bovine roar seemed to burst from their very midst. It was Bill outside the door.

  “Tricked ‘em, by God!” he yelled. “Here they are. Never mind that room. I tell you they’re here — both of ‘em; I heard ‘em whispering.”

  “Bill, you’re a treat,” said the Bo’s’n, running up. “I never saw such a man — —”

  “Where’s Simons?”

  “He was bound to have a look for hisself. Here he comes. Well, messmate, where is she?”

  “Not there,” cried Simons, with an oath. “The room’s as empty as we are. There’s been no one in it all night.”

  Bill laughed.

  “I knew that, matey. You might have saved yourself the trouble when I sang out. She’s — in — here.” And he kicked the store door three times with all his might.

  “Who is?” said Simons.

  “Both on ‘em. What did I tell you? They started whisperin’ the moment they thought we’d sheered off.”

&n
bsp; “They’re not whisperin’ now,” said Simons, at the keyhole. “By cripes, let’s burst the door in!”

  “Hold on,” said Bill. “If they’re not born fools they’ll listen to reason. Out o’ the light, matey. See here, ladies, if you walk out now you may live to spin the yarn, but if you don’t—” He broke away into nameless blasphemies.

  The cruel voice came hoarse and hot through the keyhole. Engelhardt opened his mouth to reply, but Naomi clapped a warm palm upon it, and with the other hand signalled silence to Mrs. Potter.

  “We’ve given ‘em their chance,” said Bill, after a pause. “Come on, chaps. One, two, all together — now!”

  There was a stampede of feet in the shallow veranda, and then a thud and a crash, as the three men hurled themselves against the door. But for their oaths outside, in the store it was as though nothing had happened. Not a timber had given, not a prop was out of place. Naomi’s white face wore a smile, which, however, was instantly struck out by a loud report and a flash through the keyhole.

  Engelhardt crouched lower, picked something from the floor, and passed it up to Naomi in his open hand.

  She carried it into the moonlight. It was a wisp of the musician’s long hair, snipped out by the bullet.

  They stood aside from the keyhole. More bullets came through, but all at the same angle. The women caught up a sack of flour, rolled it over the counter, and with Engelhardt’s help jammed it between the props, so that the top just covered the keyhole. Next moment there was a rush against the door, and for the second time all the harm was done to the besiegers, not the besieged.

  “We’ll be black and blue before we’ve anything to show for it!” they heard the Bo’s’n groaning.

  “There’s more than women in this,” said Bill. “There’s that spawn that I should have strung up if it hadn’t been for you two white-feathers. It’s yourselves you’ve got to thank for this. I might have known it the moment I caught sight o’ that lump o’ lard on horseback. The swine’s been in here all the time!”