King of Ranleigh: A School Story

by F. S. Brereton

  CHAPTER XI

  BERT MAKES A DISCOVERY

  There had been burglaries in the neighbourhood. Bert was quite correctwhen he asserted the fact emphatically.

  "Lots of 'em, too," he repeated in a hoarse whisper, drawing Clive andHugh after him across the rafters, which in days gone by had supportedthe floor of the chamber leading to the gallery of the chapel within thedeserted tower. "Just listen to this," he went on, in more naturaltones, when he had conducted them back to the window by which they hadgained an entrance. "There was a burglary at the Evansons', eh?"

  "Big one," agreed Clive. "They're five miles away from this."

  "And a heap of stuff was taken. That's three months ago."

  "More--four months," asserted Hugh, thrusting his hands deep in hispockets and shrinking his neck into his collar. Hugh, in fact, wore amost severe and thoughtful expression. Then he seemed to have thought ofsomething important. His hands shot from his pockets suddenly. Hesearched the belt beneath his coat, secured round his middle. "Mightwant 'em, eh?" he asked, fingering the dagger with which he had sothoughtfully provided himself. Clive, too, copied the movement.

  "Rot!" observed Bert very curtly. "As if we could venture to fight thosebeggars down there. Besides, it isn't proved that they are burglars.They may be merely tramps."

  "Aren't tramps burglars, then?" asked Clive hotly.

  "Of course!" from Hugh.

  "Rot again!" said Bert. "Tramps may be pilferers. They're notburglars--at least, not as a general rule. Burglars nowadays dress moreor less like gentlemen, live in fine houses or hotels, and employ allthe latest scientific appliances."

  "Such as X-rays, and that sort," reflected Clive.

  "And diamond drills, and dynamite, and gloved hands, and--and the restof 'em," added Hugh.

  "Right--tramps can't afford those things. They may pilfer; they don'tset out to become downright burglars. Now, those beggars below aren'tall the same."

  "One of 'em's the blackguard who threatened Clive and me some whileago," Hugh reminded him. "An out-and-out ruffian he looks too. More ofthe tramp style, I should call him. So there goes bang your idea thatthese chaps are burglars."

  "In fact, it's a mare's nest," grinned Clive. "These fellows are justtramps or out-of-works, or something of the sort. Homeless fellows, whofind that the old tower gives cheap and splendid lodgings. Think ofit--nothing to pay for house-rent, no rates and no taxes, no neighbours,either, no annoyance from noisy dogs, or from cocks and hens, nochildren playing pranks, and----"

  "Dry up, do!" said Bert fiercely. "Just shows that you two chaps goabout the world with your eyes half closed. That's the worst of beingamateur mechanics. Everything that isn't something to do with an engine,a motor, or--or a what-not, isn't worth taking notice of."

  "Here!" began Hugh indignantly, for breezes frequently arose between thetwo brothers. Hugh was not the lad to be down-trodden. Indeed, as amatter of actual fact, it was he who oftenmost triumphed. Theeasy-going, dreaming Bert usually collapsed early in such arguments andagreed to whatever was passing.

  "Shut up!" he retorted curtly enough on this occasion, and to theastonishment of Clive, and, be it added, to Hugh's own astonishmentalso, for that young gentleman bit the words he was about to utter offshort at the very tip of his tongue.

  "Well?" he asked lamely.

  "Who said that that blackguard didn't look like a tramp? He does--anyass can see that--but the others don't. They're better dressed--roughly,I'll admit, but better. But they're disguised. Whoever saw chaps oftheir supposed position--labourers you'd call 'em--smoking cigarettesout of gold-mounted holders?"

  "Oh! Eh?" ejaculated Hugh, his breath rather taken away.

  "You didn't notice, then?"

  "Er--no."

  "Nor you, Clive?"

  "No. But I saw it, if you can see the difference in what seems rather acontradictory statement. What'd Old B. call that if he were taking us inclassics?"

  "Hang old B.!" declared Bert irreverently.

  It made the others flush to hear him speak in such fashion. Bert saysuch a thing of Old B., one of his particular favourites! Clive and Hughlooked askance at the comrade they knew as a rule as a smooth-spoken,wool-gathering fellow. Here he was decidedly emphatic--brusque, to saythe least of it, in fact quite rude, and hurling names about in amanner which might be that of Masters', but was certainly not thatcustomary to Bert Seymour. Hugh wondered what next was coming. Clivegrinned sheepishly, and then suddenly straightened his features. Half anhour before he wouldn't have minded Bert's seeing that grin of derision.Now he was positively afraid.

  "Er--oh--er, yes," he said lamely.

  "Eh?" asked Bert sharply.

  "Oh, nothing."

  "Then don't gas. Look here. What I've said is true enough. Hugh didn'tsee what I've mentioned. Well," said Bert, with cold scorn, "no oneexpects anything better from Hugh."

  "I say! Look here!"

  "But Clive saw it, for a wonder," the elder of the lads went on withoutfaltering. "So it's true enough. Three of those chaps are impostors. Thefourth keeps house down here for 'em, and lets 'em know how things aregoing."

  "What things?" asked Hugh sulkily.

  "What things! Why, who's away from home, or going away shortly. Who's abig swell, with lots of cash and lots of jewels. What the police aredoing. Whether they suspect anyone in particular. What clue they have tothe perpetrators----"

  "How much?" asked Clive.

  "Perpetrators. Fellows who did the job," said Bert, with cold scornagain. In fact, his tones were icy. He might have been speaking tolittle children. "What clue they have to the perpetrators of theburglaries, and what chance there is of cracking other cribs."

  His grip of the situation was really amazing. Clive remembered all of asudden that Bert had already made quite a name for himself in the schoolDebating Society. It was strange, he had often thought, that a fellowusually so retiring and so dreamy should be ready to get on to his feetand speak before an audience. He himself would have shivered in hisshoes if called upon to debate. Yet Bert turned not so much as a hair.

  "Ready to get on to his hind legs and gas at any moment and on anysubject," Hugh had once observed. "Glad he keeps his gas for theDebating Society and don't let it off on us. Bert's a wonder."

  He was a distinct surprise on this occasion--at any rate, what mightwith justice be described as a dark horse. For here was Bert grippingthe intricacies of the situation as if he'd been thinking them out forhours. And what was more to the point, though usually content to takethird place, as we have explained, he had of a sudden crumpled up allbut the feeblest attempts to contradict him, had hurled scorn at hisfriends, and was now virtually in command of the party. He was a wonderindeed! At last he was being taken seriously.

  "So we take it as agreed that these beggars are burglars," he said. "Thenext question is, how are we going to act?"

  "The police. Send for 'em," suggested Clive.

  "Yes, we will, in time, as soon as we've proved to our own satisfactionthat the thing we've discovered is no mare's nest. Hugh, how long wouldit take you to nip down by the ivy?"

  "To the ground?"

  "Of course. Where else, donkey?"

  "Two minutes," answered that young fellow when he had squinted from thewindow.

  "Then you stay here and wait for a signal. I hope not to have to sendit. But if I do, hop."

  "Eh?"

  "Clear off. Get home to father and then to the police."

  "Yes. But you?"

  "Clive and I will remain. I've discovered already that the stairs whichonce led to the first floor have fallen down. The floor's a very highone, and unless there is some easier way up elsewhere, where we haven'tyet explored, those fellows wouldn't be able to get at us. That leavesus safe. While they're trying to get us down, you'll be off. See?"

  "And you'll keep them trying till I can get the police. I've got it.Hooray!"

  "Shut up!" commanded Bert.

  Hugh showed wonderful obedience. He even lo
oked admiringly at hisbrother, and that was very unusual with him. In fact, Hugh's conceit waslarge up to this moment. He was more than apt to lay down the law,especially where Bert was concerned. And now he had met his master.Where strength of character--real strength--was required, Bert had as ifby magic suddenly become leader of the trio.

  "Stay there and wait. Keep your eye open," he said. "Come on, Clive."

  They went off across the old room, through the archway, and so to thatother chamber across the floor beams of which lay the road to thegallery over the tumble-down chapel. What memories, what imaginationsthat old place brought up too! Clive recollected the tales he had sooften read of times gone by when people lived in similar places, infortified towers and castles. When strife between adjacent barons wasfrequent, almost incessant, when sudden raids were made, and when thesurrounding people, the serfs and tillers of the soil, all who owedallegiance to one of the mighty barons, hastened, at the blowing of ahorn, to the castle, driving maybe their cattle before them, andaccompanied by their wives and children. He could see them here, massedin a huge square open place in the heart of the tower. He picturedhimself as one of them--the sentry, in fact--perched on that highsmaller tower on the roof to which they had ascended, peering out overthe country and watching the blazing of the homesteads and the approachof the attackers. He closed his eyes, this imaginative Clive, and sawthe galleries and roof and windows peopled by men-at-arms in leathernjerkins, armed with bows and arrows, or with clumsy arquebuses. Many,too, with huge halberds. There were others up on the roof, poisingmasses of rock on their shoulders, ready to hurl them down upon theenemy approaching the door. There too, amongst them, was the noble baronhimself, with his spouse, while between them stood a trumpeter. He couldsee the envoy of the enemy approach on his horse, a white flag attachedto his lance, could hear the flare of his trumpet summons, and hisdemand that the tower should be surrendered. And then, still withsoaring imagination, he grew enthusiastic as he conjured up the haughtyrefusal of the baron, the first blows struck, the noise and shouts ofthe contestants.

  "S--s--she! Go quietly. You'll let 'em hear us." Bert brought himsuddenly to his senses, and perhaps it was as well that he did so, forat the moment Clive was balancing himself in the centre of one of thefloor beams, wabbling somewhat giddily, and looking as if he might fallon to the massed-up debris down below, all that remained now of themassive floor on which the ancient occupants of this room had trodden.Yes, it was a place to conjure up all sorts of strange ideas. One couldpicture the huge oak table in the centre of this room, the rush mats onthe floor, the forms and rough chairs round the huge, open fireplace.But Clive had dreamed long enough. It was strange indeed to hear of hisdreaming. That was the sort of thing one expected of Bert. And here hewas perfectly wideawake, the reverse of dreaming, as practical andunromantic as could well be imagined.

  "S--s--she!" he whispered. "I heard 'em moving. Stop a bit. They may belistening."

  No. The drone of voices came to their ears. Sometimes it appeared as ifall four men must be talking at one and the same time. Then there werebut two or one. Later, there was loud, raucous laughter. Then a mancoughed and choked, and once more there was loud laughter, louder thistime, for three joined in it.

  "Just the moment to move forward," whispered Bert. "Come on."

  He gained the gallery, and Clive soon afterwards. Then they crept to theruined balustrade and peeped over. Yes, there were the four men, and nowthat Clive's interest and powers of observation had been stimulated heremarked at once that whereas the three men, strangers to him, were cladin rough clothing, as if they were labourers, two were certainly smokingcigarettes from gold-tipped holders. At least, it looked as if the bandssurrounding the holders were gold.

  "Might be simply cheap gilt," he told himself. "All the same, it's fishyto see 'em smoking cigarettes from holders. That's the sort of thingSusanne'd do. He don't think anything of a fellow who don't use one, andsays that cigarettes aren't worth smoking otherwise. Wonder when I'll beable to smoke and enjoy it?"

  It was one of Clive's ambitions, one destined, it seemed, to be longdeferred. For we must be perfectly candid on this subject. Clive, like ahuge number of other young fellows who attempt to smoke, in their heartof hearts abhor the thing. Only the fancied grandness of the practicelets them repeat it. Perhaps, also, it is because smoking is so strictlyforbidden, and is such a severely punished offence because of itsdecidedly harmful effects, that boys dare attempt it. In any case,speaking of Clive, we have to faithfully record the fact that acigarette went far to make him feel positively sick, and being asensible fellow he had decided against the practice. Even Susanne hadlost his keenness, while Hugh and Bert had never once shown aninclination in that direction. Indeed, to do the "Old Firm" but simplejustice, they were models where smoking was concerned.

  Down below, in the body of the ruined chapel, beneath an expanse of roofstill supported on some half-dozen pillars, and situated so close to theedge that the two above could easily perceive them, were the four menwhose voices they had heard, the head and shoulders of one of them,however, being still invisible. They sat for the most part on masses ofstone which had once been portions of pillars. But one occupied a chair,while now that he had more time for observation, Bert saw that, far inthe background, and only partly visible, was an iron bedstead, on whichlay a bundle of blankets. A wood fire blazed in the centre of the circleformed by the men, and propped on iron legs above it was an iron pot.Near by, also, were glasses and a bottle.

  "A chap could easily get across over there, and lie down immediatelyover their heads," whispered Bert, of a sudden, when they had beenlooking downward for some few minutes, vainly trying to overhear whatwas passing between the men. "I suppose it's all right trying tooverhear, eh? Don't like sneaks of that sort as a rule. But here, eh?"

  His eyebrows went up questioningly. Clive jerked his head.

  "All's fair," he answered. "If they're burglars, why it's----"

  "Playing the game?"

  "Exactly."

  "Then you think we could get over there? I'll try, at any rate. You stayand watch. If I succeed, you follow."

  Bert went off at once along the gallery, creeping close beside the wall,for the balustrade had in parts disappeared entirely. Nor was it such aneasy task to reach the spot he had pointed out, for once more it wasnecessary to cross a part where the roof of the chapel had disappearedas completely as had the balustrade. There was, in fact, simply a stonearchway left, across which he must walk to gain the position he sought.And it must be remembered that that archway was not by any means low.The pillars supporting it towered upward a considerable height, so thatlooking down made one giddy. A few hours before, Bert would havehesitated. The masterful Hugh also, fully conscious of his prowess inthe gymnasium, would in all probability have elected to leave the taskunaccomplished. But Bert was transformed. He swept difficulties aside asif they did not exist. Measuring the height of the archway, and itsbreadth, he stepped on to it, held his arms widely outstretched, andcommenced the passage, while Clive looked on, his heart in his mouth.

  "He'll fall," he thought. "Just fancy Bert's venturing. George! He'sacross, and now he's beckoning. I've got to chance it too."

  He felt dismayed. Where there was a difficult tree to be climbed when heand Hugh were bird's-nesting, Clive made light of the business. Hescoffed at heights, at weakened and rotten branches, and laughed at thevery idea that he should fall. But walking the tight-rope was analtogether different class of undertaking, and what was this feat buttight-rope walking?

  "Jolly well like it," he thought. "Of course, the arch is steady. Butit's awfully narrow, and it's such a height. If one tripped, one wouldbe over. That'd kill a fellow."

  He crept along the gallery, stole softly to the arch, and then lookedover. It made him feel quite queer when he peered down into the ruinedchapel. Clive felt like funking. He was on the point of shaking his headin Bert's direction. And then he changed his mind. What Bert could do,he would.

&nb
sp; "As if I'd let him beat me!" he thought. "He'd call me a funk. He's beenslinging names around freely since this began. Like his cheek! Justfancy Bert slinging names at a fellow!"

  A hot flush rose to his cheeks at the thought. If he had hesitated tomake this attempt to cross a moment earlier, he was now eager to setout.

  "Just fancy being licked by Bert. Not me! Rather get smashed intomincemeat down below than have him jeering."

  And off he went across the narrow archway, with Bert watching himanxiously, as if doubtful of his capacity to cross. If Clive could haveread his friend's thoughts he would have flushed even redder than he haddone a little while before, for conditions were reversed with avengeance. It was always a matter of doubt with Clive and Hugh, and withthe somewhat bumptious Masters, to tell the tale fully, whether Bert,when accompanying the Old Firm on some of its more reckless expeditions,would ruin its success by his natural timidity. And here he was ready tocall Clive a funk if need be, and anxiously wondering whether he werecapable of doing what he, Bert, had done!

  "Ah! Glad you managed it. Thought you might get giddy and fall," hewhispered. "Now lie down and don't kick up a beastly row. I want tolisten."

  There was sudden movement down below. One of the four underobservation--and now that Clive and Bert had changed their point ofvantage, invisible to them, for they were almost directly beneath--rosefrom the stone seat he had been occupying, kicked the logs on the firetill they sent a stream of sparks upward, and then sauntered out intothat part of the chapel exposed to the sky. Where a roof should havebeen, there was now nothing but the broken ends of what had, doubtless,once been finely carved stone arches. They poked their shattered tipsfrom the farther wall like so many fingers, and attracted the attentionof the fellow below. Seeing him suddenly appear, Clive lay even flatter,and he, too, took stock of those remains of broken arches. And then,straightway, he pictured the chapel as it had been, with its carved andornamental roof, its beautiful stone pillars, its aisles, its pews. Andin amongst the latter those people of a bygone day. Men in armour,ladies in the fashion of the time, retainers stationed everywhere. Heeven fancied he heard the low-voiced music of the organ, the chanting ofthe choir, the deep bass notes of the priest in attendance. And then hewas startled into the reality of things as they were. For the man belowwas speaking. Despite his clothes, one would have sworn that he had somepretensions to being a gentleman. He was still smoking a cigarette, andnow knocked the end against one of the pillars of the chapel so as toclear it of ash. Then he looked around, as if admiring the ruins.

  "A queer place to be hidden in, eh?" he asked, flourishing thecigarette. "Romantic and all that. Haunted, they tell me. All thebetter. No one likely to interfere."

  His voice was singularly tuneful. Had Clive or Bert met him elsewhereand seen him dressed in other raiment they would decidedly haveproclaimed him to be a gentleman. But then, the times we live in arestrange ones.

  "The most honest, sometimes the most ragged," Bert murmured. "The moregentlemanly, sometimes the cleverer rascal. That chap's good looking."

  Clive nodded. "Yes," he said. "I believe I've seen him somewhere elsebefore this."

  "Round about here?"

  This time Clive shook his head. He could not recollect; but of this hewas sure, he had seen this man, and under different circumstances.

  "I'll swear he was well dressed then," he whispered. "But let's shut up.They're gassing."

  "All the better," repeated the man out in the open, stretching his armsand yawning. "There's less chance of interference. But I'll tell youthis. I'd rather we could work during the daytime than at night. I neverwas one for staying up. I'm a beggar to sleep. If only every otherperson would sleep during the hours of daylight, I for one would becontented."

  "Listen to the selfish beggar," came an answer from directly beneath thelisteners. "Here's Joe wishes to be left alone to do his work during thedaytime, just because he likes to sleep at night. As if he weren'thaving his reward. Listen to this, Joe. Good things are not to be hadwithout the expenditure of trouble, and without inconvenience to one'sself. That's something worth remembering. Think what you get for anight's work. More than the average man makes in a whole year, perhaps.And if we're lucky, and things turn out as we hope, why, there's afortune for each one of us. We're out for a big haul. The stuff's there,or should be. There don't seem a chance of our being interfered with,while here's Peter, who knows the inns and outs of every corner, able toadvise us where to work, and, what's even better, able to keep watchwhen we're gone, and no doubt to throw dust in the eyes of those whomight be inquisitive."

  "For instance, the police," came from the third man, with a satiricallaugh. "I'd just like to know what they'll make of this business we'reafter. But we've been too cute for 'em up to now, and I'm not afraid ofrunning across them. This haul's bound to be either nothing or a realbig un, and if it is, why, there'll be quite a little excitement in theneighbourhood."

  Bert nudged Clive. "Hear that?" he asked, in a whisper. "They're goingto attempt a haul."

  "Here, too," answered Clive excitedly. "But exactly where?"

  "Ah! That's what we've got to discover. They've evidently put the policeoff the scent, and we were quite right in thinking that the fellow wholives in this place picks up all local information for these fellows.Look out! They're at it again."

  "Say, Joe," they heard from one of the men still invisible. "Let's lookat that sketch again. I'm not sure where the window actually is, nor inwhat condition. But perhaps Peter will tell us. Now, lad, let's hearit."

  There was a short pause, and then another voice chimed in, one lessmusical and far less cultured.

  "The window. Oh, ah! Well, now, it's right away agin the very corner,and if there ever was a window that was strong, why, it's that therewindow. But the job can be done, particular by you gents that has hadsich practice."

  "Going to enter by a window," whispered Bert hoarsely. "But where?"

  "And seein' as you've got the right sort o' tools, why it's jest as goodas finished," went on the fellow known as Peter. "After that, why, itlies with yourselves. If you're careful I can't see as there's a chanceof interference, and if the stuff's there, why, you has it. As for thepolice, they're safe. Why, bless you, when there's one of your nightjobs on, and it ain't quite sort o' healthy for the police to be about,I jest manages to send 'em word somehow that there's a poachin' businesscomin' off, and that there poachin' business ain't never in theneighbourhood you're workin'. What's more, the news ain't never given byme, nor by the same man, never. Them police is jest little babies."

  Evidently Peter had little opinion of the arm of the law. He held thelocal sergeant and his constable in open contempt, and now he wasgloating over the clever means by which he had managed to hoodwink them.Clive heard him cackling. He slouched out into the open, crammed hispipe with tobacco which the man called Joe offered, and lit the weed bymeans of a piece of smouldering wood picked from the fire.

  As for Clive and Bert, they withdrew a little later. They were stillwanting precise information as to the part where this burglary was to beattempted, and they were not at all sure that the plan was to be carriedout that night.

  "But it's likely enough," reflected Bert. "Chaps like these don't comedown to the country to hang about. They've chosen one of the largehouses, and Peter will have thrown dust in the eyes of the police andsent 'em in the opposite direction. To-night'll be dark, for there's nomoon just now. Now, what's to be done in the matter?"

  That was a most difficult question. Gathered about the window by whichthey had entered, the three debated the point with hushed voice andeager gesture. Observation and the words they had overheard had beenamply sufficient to convince them of the importance of their discovery.Only their own determination had gained admission to the ruined towerfor them. But thanks to that they had unearthed a nest of burglars. Thematter could not rest there.

  "Impossible!" declared Bert resolutely, which sentiment Clive and Hughechoed. "We'd have the neighbourhoo
d shouting taunts at us and declaringwe were funks. Those chaps below have brought this thing on themselves.They ought to have seen to it that no one could clamber into the tower.They didn't. That's their fault. But, as a result, we know that they'reburglars."

  "Yes. Regular rotters," Hugh agreed.

  "And our duty's as plain as possible."

  Clive pushed his hands deep into his pockets and looked decidedlystubborn.

  "Yes, it is a duty," Bert admitted. "What's more, we're going to carryit through. Just you chaps shut up talking while I think a bit. You gasso much that you make a fellow's wits go wandering."

  He had become quite spiteful. Hugh actually flinched under thisreprimand and failed to retort. Clive coloured, looked indignant, andthen turned to gaze out of the window. Each was therefore left to histhoughts, and though a method of procedure might not yet have been comeat, this was quite certain: each one was fully determined that nothingshould make him flinch from the task so unexpectedly set him. The arrestof those scheming burglars was decidedly a duty.