The Firm of Girdlestone

by Arthur Conan Doyle

  CHAPTER XXII.

  ROBBERS AND ROBBED.

  It might perhaps have been as well for the curtailing of this narrative,and for the interests of the world at large if the blow dealt by thesturdy right arm of the navvy had cut short once for all the career ofthe junior African merchant. Ezra, however, was endowed with a rarevitality, which enabled him not only to shake off the effects of hismishap, but to do so in an extraordinarily short space of time.There was a groan from the prostrate figure, then a feeble movement,then another and a louder groan, and then an oath. Gradually raisinghimself upon his elbow, he looked around him in a bewildered way, withhis other hand pressed to the wound at the back of his head, from whicha few narrow little rivulets of blood were still meandering. His glancewandered vaguely over the table and the chairs and the walls, until itrested upon the safe. He could see in the moonlight that it was open,and empty. In a moment the whole circumstances of the case came back tohim, and he staggered to the door with a hoarse cry of rage and ofdespair.

  Whatever Ezra's faults may have been, irresolution or want of couragewere not among them. In a moment he grasped the situation, and realizedthat it was absolutely essential that he should act, and at once.The stones must be recovered, or utter and irretrievable ruin stared himin the face. At his cries the landlord and several attendants, whiteand black, came rushing into the room.

  "I've been robbed and assaulted," Ezra said, steadying himself againstthe mantelpiece, for he was still weak and giddy. "Don't all startcackling, but do what I ask you. Light the lamp!"

  The lamp was lit, and there was a murmur from the little knot ofemployees, reinforced by some late loungers at the bar, as they saw thedisordered room and the great crimson patch upon the carpet.

  "The thieves called at nine," said Ezra, talking rapidly, butcollectedly. "Their names were Farintosh, Burt, and Williams.We talked for, some little time, so they probably did not leave thehouse before a quarter past at the soonest. It is now half-past ten, sothey have no very great start. You, Jamieson, and you, Van Muller, runout and find if three men have been seen getting away. Perhaps theytook a buggy. Go up and down, and ask all you see. You, Jones, go ashard as you can to Inspector Ainslie. Tell him there has been robberyand attempted murder, and say that I want half a dozen of his bestmounted men--not his best men, you understand, but his best horses.I shall see that he is no loser if he is smart. Where's my servantPete? Pete, you dog, get my horse saddled and bring her round.She ought to be able to catch anything in Griqualand."

  As Ezra gave his orders the men hurried off in different directions tocarry them out. He himself commenced to arrange his dress, and tied ahandkerchief tightly round his head.

  "Surely you are not going, sir?" the landlord said, "You are not fit."

  "Fit or not, I am going," Ezra said resolutely. "If I have to bestrapped to my horse I'll go. Send me up some brandy. Put some in aflask, too. I may feel faint before I get back."

  A great concourse of people had assembled by this time, attracted by thereport of the robbery. The whole square in front of the hotel wascrowded with diggers and store-keepers and innumerable Kaffirs, allpressing up to the portico in the hope of hearing some fresh details.Mr. Hector O'Flaherty, over the way, was already busy setting up histype in preparation for a special edition, in which the _Vaal RiverAdvertiser_ should give its version of the affair. In the office thegreat man himself, who was just convalescing from an attack of ardentspirits, was busily engaged, with a wet towel round his head, writing aleader upon the event. This production, which was very sonorous andeffective, was peppered all over with such phrases as "protection ofproperty," "outraged majesty of the law," and "scum of civilization"--expressions which had been used so continuously by Mr. O'Flaherty, thathe had come to think that he had a copyright in them, and loudly accusedthe London papers of plagiarism if he happened to see them in theircolumns.

  There was a buzz of excitement among the crowd when Ezra appeared on thesteps of the hotel, looking as white as a sheet, with a handkerchiefbound round his head and his collar all crusted with blood. As hemounted his horse one of his emissaries rushed to him.

  "If you please, sir," he said, "they have taken the Capetown road.A dozen people saw them. Their horses were not up to much, for I knowthe man they got them from. You are sure to catch them."

  A smile played over Ezra's pale face, which boded little good for thefugitives. "Curse those police!" he cried; "are they never going tocome?"

  "Here they are!" said the landlord; and sure enough, with a jingling ofarms and a clatter of hoofs, half a dozen of the Griqualand MountedConstabulary trotted through the crowd and drew up in front of thesteps. They were smart, active young fellows, armed with revolver andsabre, and their horses were tough brutes, uncomely to look at, but withwonderful staying power. Ezra noted the fact with satisfaction as herode up to the grizzled sergeant in command.

  "There's not a moment to be lost, sergeant," he said. "They have anhour and a half's start, but their cattle are not up to much. Come on!It's the Capetown road. A hundred pounds if we catch them!"

  "Threes!" roared the sergeant. "Right half turn--trot!" The crowd splitasunder, and the little troop, with Ezra at their head, clove a paththrough them. "Gallop!" shouted the sergeant, and away they clattereddown the High Street of Kimberley, striking fire out of the stone andsplashing up the gravel, until the sound of their hoofs died away into adull, subdued rattle, and finally faded altogether from the ears of thelistening crowd.

  For the first few miles the party galloped in silence. The moon wasstill shining brilliantly, and they could see the white line of the roadstretching out in front of them and winding away over the undulatingveldt. To right and left spread a broad expanse of wiry grassstretching to the horizon, with low bushes and scrub scattered over itin patches. Here and there were groups of long-legged,unhealthy-looking sheep, who crashed through the bushes in wild terroras the riders swept by them. Their plaintive calls were the only soundswhich broke the silence of the night, save the occasional dismal hootingof the veldt owl.

  Ezra, on his powerful grey, had been riding somewhat ahead of thetroopers, but the sergeant managed to get abreast of him. "Beg pardon,sir," he said, raising his hand to his kepi, "but don't you think thispace is too good to last? The horses will be blown."

  "As long as we catch them," Ezra answered, "I don't care what becomes ofthe horses. I would sooner stand you a dozen horses apiece than letthem get away."

  The young merchant's words were firm and his seat steady, in spite ofthe throbbing at his head. The fury in his heart supplied him withstrength, and he gnawed his moustache in his impatience and dug hisspurs into his horse's flanks until the blood trickled down its glossycoat. Fortune, reputation, above all, revenge, all depended upon theissue of this headlong chase through the darkness.

  The sergeant and Ezra galloped along, leather to leather, and rein torein, while the troop clattered in their rear. "There's Combrink abouttwo miles further on," said the sergeant; "we will hear news of themthere."

  "They can't get off the high road, can they?"

  "Not likely, sir. They couldn't get along as fast anywhere else.Indeed, it's hardly safe riding across the veldt. They might be down apit before they knew of it."

  "As long as they are on the road, we must catch them," quoth Ezra;"for if it ran straight from here to hell I would follow them there."

  "And we'd stand by you, sir," said the sergeant, catching something ofhis companion's enthusiasm. "At this pace, if the horses hold out, wemight catch them before morning. There are the lights of the shanty."

  As he spoke they were galloping round a long curve in the road, at thefurther end of which there was a feeble yellow glimmer. As they cameabreast of it they saw that the light came through an open door, in thecentre of which a burly Afrikaner was standing with his hands in hisbreeches pockets and his pipe in his mouth.

  "Good evening," said the sergeant, as his men pulled u
p their reekinghorses. "Has any one passed this way before us?"

  "Many a tausand has passed this way before you," said the Dutchman,taking his pipe out of his mouth to laugh.

  "To-night, man, to-night!" the sergeant cried angrily.

  "Oh yes; down the Port Elizabeth Road there, not one hour ago. Threemen riding fit to kill their horses."

  "That'll do," Ezra shouted; and away they went once more down the broadwhite road. They passed Bluewater's Drift at two in the morning, andwere at Van Hayden's farm at half-past. At three they left the ModderRiver far behind them, and at a quarter past four they swept down themain street of the little township of Jacobsdal, their horses weak andweary and all mottled with foam. There was a police patrol in thestreet.

  "Has any one passed?" cried the sergeant.

  "Three men, a quarter of an hour ago."

  "Have they gone on?"

  "Straight on. Their horses were nearly dead beat, though."

  "Come on!" cried Ezra eagerly. "Come on!"

  "Four of the horses are exhausted, sir," said the sergeant."They can't move another step."

  "Come on without them then."

  "The patrol could come," the sergeant suggested.

  "I should have to report myself at the office, sir," said the trooper.

  "Jump on to his horse, sergeant," cried Ezra. "He can take yours toreport himself on. Now then you and I at least are bound to come upwith them. Forward! gallop!" And they started off once more on theirwild career, rousing the quiet burghers of Jacobsdal by the wild turmoilof their hoofs.

  Out once more upon the Port Elizabeth Road it was a clear race betweenthe pursuers and the pursued. The former knew that the fugitives, wereit daytime, would possibly be within sight of them, and the thought gavethem additional ardour. The sergeant having a fresh horse rode infront, his head down and his body forward, getting every possible inchof pace out of the animal. At his heels came Ezra, on his gallant grey,the blood-stained handkerchief fluttering from his head. He was sittingvery straight in his saddle with a set stern smile upon his lips.In his right hand he held a cocked revolver. A hundred yards or sobehind them the two remaining troopers came toiling along upon theirweary nags, working hard with whip and spur to stimulate them to furtherexertions. Away in the east a long rosy streak lay low upon thehorizon, which showed that dawn was approaching, and a grey light stoleover the landscape. Suddenly the sergeant pulled his horse up.

  "There's some one coming towards us," he cried.

  Ezra and the troopers halted their panting steeds. Through theuncertain light they saw a solitary horseman riding down the road.At first they had thought that it might possibly be one of the fugitiveswho had turned, but as he came nearer they perceived that it was astranger. His clothes were so dusty and his horse so foam-flecked andweary that it was evident that he also had left many a long mile of roadbehind him.

  "Have you seen three men on horseback?" cried Ezra as he approached.

  "I spoke to them," the traveller answered. "They are about half a mileahead."

  "Come on! Come on!" Ezra shouted.

  "I am bringing news from Jagersfontein--" the man said.

  "Come on!" Ezra interrupted furiously; and the horses stretched theirstiff limbs into a feeble lumbering gallop. Ezra and the sergeant shotto the front, and the others followed as best they might. Suddenly inthe stillness they heard far away a dull rattling sound like the clatterof distant castanets. "It's their horses' hoofs!" cried Ezra; and thetroopers behind raised a cheer to show that they too understood thesignificance of the sound.

  It was a wild, lonely spot, where the plain was bare even of the scantyfoliage which usually covered it. Here and there great granite rocksprotruded from the brown soil, as though Nature's covering had in bygonedays been rent until her gaunt bones protruded through the wound.As Ezra and the sergeant swept round a sharp turn in the road they saw,some little way ahead of them, the three fugitives, enveloped in a cloudof dust. Almost at the same moment they heard a shout and crash behindthem, and, looking round, saw a confused heap upon the ground.The horse of the leading trooper had fallen from pure fatigue, and hadrolled over upon its rider. The other trooper had dismounted, and wasendeavouring to extricate his companion.

  "Let us see if he is hurt," the sergeant cried.

  "On! on!" shouted Ezra, whose passion was increased by the sight of thethieves. "Not a foot back."

  "He may have broken his neck," grumbled the sergeant, drawing hisrevolver. "Have your pistol ready, sir. We shall be up with them in afew minutes, and they may show fight."

  They were up with them rather sooner than the policeman expected.Farintosh, finding that speed was of no avail, and that the numbers ofhis pursuers was now reduced to two, had recourse to strategy. Therewas a sharp turn in the road a hundred yards ahead, and on reaching itthe three flung themselves off their horses and lay down behind cover.As Ezra and the sergeant, the grey horse and the bay, came thunderinground the curve, there was a fierce splutter of pistol shots fromamongst the bushes, and the grey sank down upon its knees with a sobbingmoan, struck mortally in the head. Ezra sprang to his feet and rushedat the ambuscade, while the sergeant, who had been grazed on the cheekby the first volley, jumped from his horse and followed him. Burt andFarintosh met them foot to foot with all the Saxon gallantry whichunderlies the Saxon brutality. Burt stabbed at the sergeant and struckhim through the muscle of the neck. Farintosh fired at the policeman,and was himself shot down by Ezra. Burt, seeing his companion fall,sprang past his two assailants with a vicious side blow at the merchant,and throwing himself upon the sergeant's horse, regardless of a bulletfrom the latter's revolver, he galloped away, and was speedily out ofrange. As to Williams, from the beginning of the skirmish he had lainface downwards upon the ground, twisting his thin limbs about in anagony of fear, and howling for mercy.

  "He's gone!" Ezra said ruefully, gazing after the fugitive. "We havenothing to go after him with."

  "I'm well-nigh gone myself," said the policeman, mopping up the bloodfrom his stab, which was more painful than dangerous. "He has given mea nasty prod."

  "Never mind, my friend, you shall not be the loser. Get up, you littleviper!"--this to Williams, who was still writhing himself into the mostextraordinary attitudes.

  "Oh, please, Mr. Girdlestone," he cried, clutching at Ezra's boots withhis long thin fingers, "it wasn't me that hit you. It was Mr. Burt.I had nothing to do with robbing you either. That was Mr. Farintosh.I wouldn't have gone with him, only I knew that he was a clergyman, so Iexpected no harm. I am surprised at you, Mr. Farintosh, I really am.I'm very glad that Mr. Girdlestone has shot you."

  The ex-parson was sitting with his back against a gnarled stump, whichgave him some support. He had his hand to his chest, and as he breatheda ghastly whistling sound came from the wound, and spirts of bloodrushed from his mouth. His glazed eyes were fixed upon the man who hadshot him, and a curious smile played about his thin lips.

  "Come here, Mr. Girdlestone," he croaked; "come here."

  Ezra strode over to him with a face as inexorable as fate.

  "You've done for me," said Farintosh faintly. "It's a queer end for thebest man of his year at Trinity--master of arts, sir, and Jacksonianprizeman. Not much worth now, is it? Who'd have thought then that Ishould have died like a dog in this wilderness? What's the odds how aman dies though. If I'd kept myself straight I should have gone off afew years later in a feather bed as the Dean of St. Patrick's may be.What will that matter? I've enjoyed myself"--the dying man's eyesglistened at the thought of past dissipations. "If I had my time to doover again," he continued, "I'd enjoy myself the same way. I'm notpenitent, sir. No death-bed snivelling about me, or short cuts intoheaven. That's not what I wanted to say though. I have a choking inthe throat, but I dare say you can hear what I am driving at. You met aman riding towards Jacobsdal, did you not?"

  Ezra nodded sullenly.

  "You didn't speak to him? Too busy
trying to catch yours truly, eh?Will you have your stones back, for they are in the bag by my side, butthey'll not be very much good to you. The little spec won't come offthis time. You don't know what the news was that the man was bringing?"

  A vague feeling of impending misfortune stole over Ezra. He shook hishead.

  "His news was," said Farintosh, leaning up upon his hand, "that freshdiamond fields _have_ been discovered at Jagersfontein, in the OrangeFree State. So Russia, or no Russia, stones will not rise. Ha! ha!will not rise. Look at his face! It's whiter than mine. Ha! ha! ha!"With the laugh upon his lips, a great flow of blood stopped theclergyman's utterance, and he rolled slowly over upon his side, a deadman.