The Firm of Girdlestone

by Arthur Conan Doyle

  CHAPTER XL.

  THE MAJOR HAS A LETTER.

  At four o'clock Mr. Girdlestone stepped into the Bedsworth telegraphoffice and wired his short message. It ran thus: "Case hopeless. Comeon to-morrow with a doctor." On receipt of this he knew by theiragreement that his son would come down, bringing with him the man ofviolence whom he had spoken of at their last interview. There wasnothing for it now but that his ward should die. If he delayed longer,the crash might come before her money was available, and then how vainall regrets would be.

  It seemed to him that there was very little risk in the matter.The girl had had no communication with any one. Even of those aroundher, Mrs. Jorrocks was in her dotage, Rebecca Taylforth was staunch andtrue, and Stevens knew nothing. Every one on the country side had heardof the invalid young lady at the Priory. Who would be surprised to hearthat she had passed away? He dare not call in any local medical man,but his inventive brain had overcome the difficulty, and had hit upon adevice by which he might defy both doctors and coroner. If all went ashe had planned it, it was difficult to see any chance of detection.In the case of a poorer man the fact that the girl's money reverted tohim might arouse suspicion, but he rightly argued that with his greatreputation no one would ever dream that such a consideration could haveweight with him.

  Having sent the telegram off, and so taken a final step, JohnGirdlestone felt more at his ease. He was proud of his own energy anddecision. As he walked very pompously and gravely down the villagestreet, his heart glowed within him at the thought of the long strugglewhich he had maintained against misfortune. He passed over in his mindall the successive borrowings and speculations and makeshifts and ruseswhich the firm had resorted to. Yet, in spite of every danger anddifficulty, it still held up its head with the best, and would weatherthe storm at last. He reflected proudly that there was no other man inthe City who would have had the dogged tenacity and the grim resolutionwhich he had displayed during the last twelve months. "If ever any oneshould put it all in a book," he said to himself, "there are few whowould believe it possible. It is not by my own strength that I havedone it."

  The man had no consciousness of blasphemy in him as he revolved thisthought in his mind. He was as thoroughly in earnest as were any ofthose religious fanatics who, throughout history, have burned, sacked,and destroyed, committing every sin under heaven in the name of a God ofpeace and of mercy.

  When he was half-way to the Priory he met a small pony-carriage, whichwas rattling towards Bedsworth at a great pace, driven by a good-lookingmiddle-aged lady with a small page by her side. The merchantencountered this equipage in a narrow country lane without a footpath,and as it approached him he could not help observing that the lady worean indignant and gloomy look upon her features which was out of keepingwith their general contour. Her forehead was contracted into a verydecided frown, and her lips were gathered into what might be describedas a negative smile. Girdlestone stood aside to let her pass, but thelady, by a sudden twitch of her right-hand rein, brought the wheelsacross in so sudden a manner that they were within an ace of going overhis toes. He only saved himself by springing back into a gap of thehedge. As it was, he found on looking down that his pearl grey trouserswere covered with flakes of wet mud. What made the incident moreperplexing was that both the middle-aged lady and the page laughed veryheartily as they rattled away to the village. The merchant proceeded onhis way marvelling in his heart at the uncharitableness and innatewickedness of unregenerated human nature.

  Good Mrs. Scully little dreamed of the urgency of the case. Had sheseen the telegram which John Girdlestone had just despatched, it isconceivable that she might have read between the words, and by actingmore promptly have prevented a terrible crime. As a matter of fact,with all her sympathy the worthy woman had taken a large part of Kate'sstory with the proverbial grain of salt. It seemed to her to beincredible and impossible that in this nineteenth century such a thingas deliberate and carefully planned murder should occur in ChristianEngland. That these things occur in the abstract we are ready to admit,but we find it very difficult to realize that they may come within thehorizon of our own experience. Hence Mrs. Scully set no importance uponKate's fears for her life, and put them down to the excited state of thegirl's imagination. She did consider it, however, to be a veryiniquitous and unjustifiable thing that a young girl should be cooped upand separated from all the world in such a very dreary place ofseclusion as the Priory. This consideration and nothing more serioushad set that look of wrath upon her pleasant face, and had stirred herup to frustrate Girdlestone and to communicate with Kate's friends.

  Her intention had been to telegraph to London, but as she drove toBedsworth she bethought her how impossible it would be for her withinthe limits of a telegram to explain to her satisfaction all that shewanted to express. A letter, she reflected, would, if posted now, reachthe major by the first post on Saturday morning. It would simply mean afew hours' delay in the taking of steps to relieve Kate, and whatdifference could a few hours more or less make to the girl.She determined, therefore, that she would write to the major, explainingall the circumstances, and leave it to him what course of action shouldbe pursued.

  Mrs. Scully was well known at the post office, and they quicklyaccommodated her with the requisites for correspondence. Within aquarter of an hour she had written, sealed, stamped, and posted thefollowing epistle:--

  "DEAREST TOBY,

  "I am afraid you must find your period of probation very slow. Poor boy! what does he do? No billiards, no cards, no betting-- how does he manage to get through the day at all? Smokes, I suppose, and looks out of the window, and tells all his grievances to Mr. Von Baumser. Aren't you sorry that ever you made the acquaintance of Morrison's second floor front? Poor Toby!

  "Who do you think I have come across down here? No less a person than that Miss Harston who was Girdlestone's ward. You used to talk about her, I remember, and indeed you were a great admirer of hers. You would be surprised if you saw her now, so thin and worn and pale. Still her face is very sweet and pretty, so I won't deny your good taste--how could I after you have paid your addresses to me?

  "Her guardian has brought her down here and has locked her up in a great bleak house called the Priory. She has no one to speak to, and is not allowed to write letters. She seemed to be heart-broken because none of her friends know where she is, and she fears that they may imagine that she has willingly deserted them. Of course, by her friends she means that curly-headed Mr. Dimsdale that you spoke of. The poor girl is in a very low nervous state, and told me over the wall of the park that she feared her guardian had designs on her life. I can hardly believe that, but I do think that she is far from well, and that it is enough to drive her mad to coop her up like that. We must get her out somehow or another. I suppose that her guardian is within his rights, and that it is not a police matter. You must consider what must be done, and let young Dimsdale know if you think best. He will want to come down to see her, no doubt, and if Toby were to come too I should not be sorry.

  "I should have telegraphed about it, but I could not explain myself sufficiently. I assure you that the poor girl is in a very bad way, and we can't be too energetic in what we do. It was very sad to hear the positive manner in which she declared that her guardian would murder her, though she did not attempt to give any reason why he should commit such a terrible crime. We saw a horrid one-eyed man at the gate, who appeared to be on guard to prevent any one from coming out or in. On our way to Bedsworth we met no less a person than the great Mr. Girdlestone himself, and we actually drove so clumsily that we splashed him all over with mud. Wasn't that a very sad and unaccountable thing? I fancy I see Toby smiling over that.

  "Good-bye, my dear lad. Be as good as you can. I know you've got rather out of the way of it, but prac
tice works wonders.

  "Ever yours,

  "LAVINIA SCULLY."

  It happened that on the morning on which this missive came to KennedyPlace, Von Baumser had not gone to the City. The major had justperformed his toilet and was marching up and down with a cigarette inhis mouth and the _United Service Gazette_ in his hand, descantingfluently, as is the habit of old soldiers, on the favouritism of theHorse Guards and the deterioration of the service.

  "Look at this fellow Carmoichael!" he cried excitedly, slapping thepaper with one, hand, while he crumpled it up with the other. "They'vemade him lieutinant-gineral! The demndest booby in the regiment, sir!A fellow who's seen no service and never heard a shot fired in anger.They promoted him on the stringth of a sham fight, bedad! He commandeda definding force operating along the Thames and opposing an invadingarmy that was advancing from Guildford. Did iver ye hear such infernalnonsense in your life? And there's Stares, and Knight, and Underwood,and a dozen more I could mintion, that have volunteered for everythingsince the Sikh war of '46, all neglicted, sir--neglicted! The BritishArmy is going straight to the divil."

  "Dat's a very bad look-out for the devil," said Von Baumser, filling upa cup of coffee.

  The major continued to stride angrily about the room. "That's why weniver have a satisfactory campaign with a European foe," he broke out."Our success is always half and half, and leads to nothing. Yet we havethe finest raw material and the greatest individual fighting power anddivilment of any army in the world."

  "Always, of course, not counting de army of his most graceworthy majestyde Emperor William," said Von Baumser, with his mouth full of toast."Here is de girl mit a letter. Let us hope dat it is my Frankfortmoney."

  "Two to one it's for me."

  "Ah, he must not bet!" cried Von Baumser, with upraised finger."You have right, though. It is for you, and from de proper quarter too,I think."

  It was the letter which we have already quoted. The major broke theseal and read it over very carefully, after which he read it again.Von Baumser, watching him across the table, saw a very anxious andtroubled look upon his ruddy face.

  "I hope dere is nothing wrong mit my good vriend, Madame Scully?" heremarked at last.

  "No, nothing wrong with her. There is with some one else, though;" andwith that he read to his companion all that part of his letter whichreferred to Miss Harston.

  "Dat is no joke at all," the German remarked; and the two sat for somelittle time lost in thought, the major with the letter still lying openupon his knee.

  "What d'ye think of it?" he asked at last.

  "I think dat it is a more bad thing than the good madame seems to think.I think dat if Miss Harston says dat Herr Girdlestone intends to killher, it is very likely dat he has dat intention"

  "Ged, he's not a man to stick at troifles," the major said, rubbing hischin reflectively. "Here's a nice kettle of fish! What the deuce couldcause him to do such a thing?"

  "Money, of course. I have told you, my good vriend, dat since a year defirm has been in a very bad way indeed. It is not generally known, butI know it, and so do others. Dis girl, I have heard, has money whichwould come to de old man in case of her death. It is as plain as devingers on my hand."

  "Be George, the thing looks very ugly!" said the major, pacing up anddown the room. "I believe that fellow and his beauty of a son are gamefor anything. Lavinia takes the mather too lightly. Fancy any onebeing such a scounthrel as to lay a hand on that dear girl, though.Ged, Baumser, it makes ivery drop of blood in me body tingle in meveins!"

  "My dear vriend," Von Baumser answered, "it is very good of your bloodfor to tingle, but I do not see how dat will help the mees. Let us bepractical, and make up our brains what we should do."

  "I must find young Dimsdale at once. He has a right to know."

  "Yes, I should find him. Dere is no doubt that you and he should atonce start off for dis place. I know dat young man. Dere vill be noholding him at all when he has heard of it. You must go too, to preventhim from doing dummheiten, and also because good Madame Scully has saidso in her letter."

  "Certainly. We shall go down togither. One of us will manage to seethe young lady and find out if she requoires assistance. Bedad, if shedoes, she shall have it, guardian or no guardian. If we don't whip herout in a brace of shakes me name's not Clutterbuck."

  "You must remember," remarked Baumser, "dat dese people are desperate.If dey intend to murder a voman dey vould certainly not stick at a manor two men. You have no knowledge of how many dere may be. Dere iscertainly Herr Girdlestone and his son and de man mit de eye, but madameknows not how many may be at de house. Remember also dat de police arenot on your side, but rather against you, for as yet dere is no evidencedat any crime is intentioned. Ven you think of all dis I am sure datyou vill agree with me dat it would be vell to take mit you two or treemen dat would stick by you through thin and broad."

  The major was so busy in making his preparations for departure that hecould only signify by a nod that he agreed with his friend's remarks."What men could I git?" he asked.

  "Dere is I myself," said the German, counting upon his big red fingers,"and dere are some of our society who would very gladly come on such anerrand, and are men who are altogether to be relied upon. Dere islittle Fritz Bulow, of Kiel, and a Russian man whose name I disremember,but he is a good man. He vas a Nihilist at Odessa, and is sentenced todeath suppose they could him catch. Dere are others as good, but itmight take me time to find dem. Dese two I can very easily get.Dey are living together, and have neither of dem nothing to do."

  "Bring them, then," said the major. "Git a cab and run them down toWaterloo Station. That's the one for Bedsworth. I'll bring Dimsdaledown with me and mate you there. In me opinion there's no time to belost."

  The major was ready to start, so Von Baumser threw on his coat and hat,and picked out a thick stick from a rack in the corner. "We may needsomething of de sort," he said.

  "I have me derringer," the soldier answered. They left the housetogether, and Von Baumser drove off to the East End, where his politicalfriends resided. The major called a cab and rattled away to PhillimoreGardens and thence to the office, without being able to find the man ofwhom he was in search. He then rushed down the Strand as quickly as hecould, intending to catch the next train and go alone, but on his way toWaterloo Station he fell in with Tom Dimsdale, as recorded in apreceding chapter.

  The letter was a thunderbolt to Tom, In his worst dreams he had neverimagined anything so dark as this. He hurried back to the station atsuch a pace that the poor major was reduced to a most asthmatical andwheezy condition. He trotted along pluckily, however, and as he wentheard the account of Tom's adventures in the morning and of thedeparture of Ezra Girdlestone and of his red-bearded companion.The major's face grew more anxious still when he heard of it. "Pray Godwe may not be too late!" he panted.