Safe Custody and Laughing Bacchante

by Dornford Yates

  Palin agreed with me and more than once insisted that the worst of the danger was past.

  “I believe,” said he that Harris and Haydn have split. I believe they split that night when Holy saw that Harris was letting him down. I mean, would you go on with such a partner?”

  “He can’t do without him,” said Hubert. “Besides, he knew what to expect. That’s why he had his men there. He knew that Harris would let him down if he could—just as he would let Harris down if Harris gave him the chance. Partnerships like that have always an unwritten clause. I mean, it isn’t worth writing: it’s mutually understood. ‘Each party will lose no opportunity of doing the other down.’ ”

  “D’you think he knew the secret?” said Palin.

  “Yes,” said I. “From what I heard I firmly believe that he did. And I think the strong-box is close to the dining-hall. Why else should they have gone there? They were going to jump off from that passage—from that end of that passage. And if Harris had let down the drawbridge, they’d have had the ‘vestments’ that night.”

  “I quite think they would,” said Hubert, and wiped the sweat from his face. “It was a damned near thing. And that’s why I’m so uneasy. I’ll swear they’re doing something, and I want to know what it is.”

  There was a little silence.

  The sleepy afternoon sunshine was flooding the old courtyard: somewhere a wood-pigeon was calling, and a servant about his business was singing over his work: asprawl on the roof of the coach-house, Stiven was watching the foliage that hung like some gorgeous arras upon the mountain side: the tinkle of the fountain in the basin and the steady lisp of the fall argued the virtue of idleness and freedom from care.

  “Let ill alone,” murmured Palin.

  “So I will,” said my cousin “—for twenty-four hours. If nothing has happened by then, I’m going out on patrol.”

  Five days had gone by since the attack upon the castle, and we had already fallen into regular ways. The cipher was still unsolved. Olivia and Palin fought with it all the morning and again between five and eight: during their hours of labour Hubert and I played watchman or strove by more direct action to discover where the ‘vestments’ were hid. After luncheon and dinner we all of us took our ease, using the courtyard by day and the ramparts when it was dark; for Olivia’s sake, as for mine, I treasured these pleasant hours, for she was not meant for study, and the sight of her bending to her table and frowning over her pages of letters and words made me think of a bright-eyed squirrel that should be swinging from branches and leaping on dewy lawns, but climbs a wheel for his living behind the bars of a cage. But, though she was a prisoner and the labour she did was unnatural and tedious beyond all words, she never once complained, but kept all our eyes upon the future and the day when the old Pope’s secret should be revealed.

  As for the cipher, I have here nothing to say, but Hubert and I at least had something to go on—that is to say, the sentence which I had heard Harris speak.

  ‘Where’s this wall you spoke of, that’s got to come down?’

  There might, of course, be no wall that had to come down. Father Herman might well have been lying, because he distrusted Harris and had no mind to give him the ghost of a clue. But to that possibility we deliberately shut our eyes, for, though the hint might be false, it was all we had.

  Wall after wall we proved—and proved in vain. The labour was very severe, for although we had hammers and chisels of excellent steel, the castle might have been built to resist our onslaught and it took us all we knew to cut a stone from its course. What troubled us most was that we could find no wall which could have been quickly pulled down. If the priest had told Harris the truth, the ‘vestments’ had been immured. One would, therefore, have expected some wall in which the layers of mortar were finger-thick, or in which there was at least one stone that could be swiftly extracted, so that a breach could be made: the priest himself must have expected such a wall, for else the thieves could never have reached the treasure and carried it off that night. But no such wall existed. All the masonry was flawless: all the stones had been cut to measure, and nowhere appeared between them more than a film of cement.

  At dusk on a Wednesday evening Hubert and Stiven went forth to find out what they could.

  They did not come in until dawn, but though in those hours they covered a great deal of ground, they had nothing at all to report, except that a tree was down across the road of approach.

  “There you are,” said Palin. “What did the wise man say? Are you satisfied now?”

  “I’m still more uneasy,” said Hubert. “And that’s the truth.”

  So was Olivia. I saw as much in her eyes.

  I began to wonder whether there could be some menace—some wave which we could not see, which was all the time rising and swelling and would presently tower above us to break with a roar of havoc about our ears.

  “Ugh,” said Andrew Palin. “You make me tired. I said they were doing nothing because there was nothing to be done, and now, on your own confession, you’ve proved the truth of my words. You’ve crawled about this homestead, marked well her bulwarks and told the towers thereof. You’ve crept up the postern steps and down the road of approach. And you’ve seen nothing—not even a reed shaken with the wind. Do you suggest that they’re tunnelling? Driving a shaft from Haydn under the ground?” He made a short calculation. “If they moved six feet a day, it’d take them a hundred years. And I can’t see Punter really trying at a job like that.”

  Olivia and I began to shake with laughter.

  “I admit all you say,” said my cousin. “I can offer no explanation of any kind. All the facts are against me. And yet I cannot believe that Harris and Father Herman have thrown in their hand. That, to my mind, is unthinkable. If I’m right, they’re taking action . . .

  “Now they know that any day we may find the key to the cipher—and once we’ve read the cipher, we’ve got the goods. Any action they may take is, therefore, as good as useless, unless it’s swift. Very well. If I’m right, they are taking swift action—and I want to know what it is.”

  Palin lighted a cigar with infinite care.

  “This cipher business,” he said. “We haven’t said much about it, because out of office hours we try to forget. But now we’ve both agreed that I shall tell you the truth.

  “The result which Olivia and I are endeavouring to achieve demands a mental energy which tends to unhinge the mind that puts it forth. I’ll tell you why. In the first place, we devote rather more than six hours a day to the arrangement, disarrangement and rearrangement of the alphabet—an exercise which is beneath the intelligence of a child of eight. Secondly, there are so many million combinations of letters which may or may not be the one which we require that each time we start in to test a new one, the operation is not dignified by that spirit of excited hopefulness which means so much. Finally, it is impossible entirely to lose sight of the fact that if somebody bet me an even pony that we shan’t have found out the cipher in six months’ time, I wouldn’t take him.

  “Now this doesn’t mean that were not going to go straight on, because we are—until, of course, we go mad. But we’ve both of us come to the conclusion that if after one more week we’ve not got the swine by the throat, someone must go to London and get us some books. There must be some books on ciphers—some tables published that would save us no end of work. And, in any event, I know a man in the Navy who’ll give us some good advice.”

  “You see,” said Olivia, “there’s a code-word. We’re certain of that. Some ordinary household word, like ‘horseman,’ or ‘liberty’—for all we know, it may be the name of a place—which will unlock the cipher the moment it’s found. And what we want to know is how to test the cipher, so that we can eliminate certain classes of words. I mean, there must be some way. Code-words are discovered, and they aren’t discovered by chance.”

  “A week,” said my cousin, thoughtfully. “You know, you’re very patient. If the enemy doesn’t s
how up, to-morrow evening I’m going out again.”

  And so he did. And Stiven and I with him.

  Hubert stepped to a window and glanced at the failing light.

  “Any time, now,” he murmured. “I think we might get on our things.”

  A fine rain was falling: the weather had broken only the night before. This was provoking: a patrol can get very wet, and we proposed to be out for thirty-six hours.

  I rose from the table and entered the gallery. As I took up my raincoat—

  “No stunts,” said Palin. “You give me your solemn word. No running after Harris, to bite his neck.”

  “I promise,” I said. “Where’s Olivia?”

  “In the library, I fancy.”

  I was making my way to the door when I missed my torch. This should have been in the pocket of my raincoat, but I had, it seemed, left it upstairs. All the same, I could have sworn . . .

  I should have been wrong.

  Directly I entered my bedroom, I saw the torch by my bed.

  As I snatched it up there was a movement, and I looked up to see Olivia with her back to the jamb of the doorway between our rooms.

  She was paler than I had seen her, and she seemed to be drooping a little, as will a flower droop at noon.

  “Are you going now?”

  “In a minute,” said I. “But you—you don’t look yourself.”

  “I’m tired,” she said. “When you’ve gone I’m going to lie down.”

  I frowned.

  “Hans will sleep on the landing,” I said: “and you’re going to lock both doors.” She nodded. “You’re sure you’re all right, Olivia?”

  “Sure,” she said. “Only tired. I—I wish I had something to give you, to bring you luck.”

  Her tone was fretful. Had I not known her better, I should have said that she was not far from tears.

  I went to her quickly, and she gave her hand into mine.

  “You’re very sweet, Olivia. If you want to give me something . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “That night on the mountain . . . just at the last . . .”

  “Yes?”

  “I stooped to kiss your hand, and I thought that you touched my hair.” I bent my head. “If you want to give me something, will you touch it again?”

  “Oh, my dear . . .”

  I looked up sharply. Her lashes were wet with tears.

  “Olivia,” I cried. “What is it? Why—”

  She put up her arms and took my face in her hands.

  “Come back safe, John,” she whispered, and put up her beautiful mouth.

  As a man in a dream, I stooped and kissed her lips.

  The patrol on which we set out on that Friday evening was to be much more far-reaching than that of two nights before: and, as I have said, not until dawn on Sunday did we expect to come in.

  Our plan was to compass the castle, keeping to the foot of the walls, to explore the postern steps and then to come up by the fall to the road of approach. Once there, we should leave the castle and make our way by road to the farm where the Rolls was lodged. This meant a journey on foot of some thirteen miles, but we reckoned that if all went well, we should reach the farm before the daylight came in. There we proposed to breakfast and rest for an hour, and then we should take the car and drive directly to Haydn or, at least, as near as we dared. Having found some thicket in which to bestow the Rolls, we should then settle down to watch Haydn—if need be, the whole of that day, in the hope of learning something of what was afoot. If my cousin’s contention was good and the enemy was at work, it was likely that some time that day he would leave Haydn by car for the scene of the operation on which he was now engaged. If he did so leave Haydn we should immediately follow and let him lead us up to the place he sought. This might be a lawyer’s office, or it might be the mouth of a shaft, but, whatever it was, we were sure it would speak for itself and would give us at least some idea of how the rogues were proposing to bring us down. That night we should return to the farm, put the Rolls back in her barn and then go over the mountain and so to Hohenems. If nobody were to leave Haydn, our plan must fail; but I think that it was a good plan and would have done no dishonour to the crafty Odysseus himself. I need hardly say that it came out of Hubert’s head.

  Soon after midnight we gained the road of approach.

  Our circuit of the castle had taught us nothing at all: if one of the gang was there, we saw no sign of him. Our state, however, was piteous. The night, though wet, was warm, and, because of the raincoats we wore, our shirts and even our jackets were drenched with sweat: because of the rain, the going was worse than ever, and we had all slipped and fallen a hundred times; as a result, we were simply plastered with dirt, and our shoes and socks and trousers had not the look of apparel because they had been so soused and were coated so thick with mire. This alone prevented us from moving with the care a patrol should use; but, apart from the falls themselves, so many springs had broken that our footfalls were continually lost in the plash and gurgle of water until we had passed the tree which was blocking the road.

  “And now,” said Hubert, “I fancy we’ve nothing to fear. If they are about, we’ve passed them, and I don’t mind betting we have the roads to ourselves.”

  Here he was right. All our way was deserted, and we came to the farm at sunrise, just as the rain was ceasing and the clouds had begun to break.

  The farmer was already abroad and was putting his oxen to a waggon as we walked into his yard, and as soon as he understood that we were come for the Rolls, he led the way to the kitchen and bawled for his wife.

  In spite of my horrid condition, the good woman knew me at once and offered us food and shelter before we could ask. Whilst she was preparing some breakfast the farmer brought us some water and soap and towels, and by helping one another we cleaned ourselves fairly well. After that, our shoes and socks were put in the oven to dry, and we broke our fast in our shirt-sleeves, all seated about a good fire.

  At length I went off to the barn, to find the Rolls as I had left her, all ready for use: so I set the engine running and Stiven to ‘rub her down,‘ whilst I went back to the kitchen to help Hubert settle our bill.

  Now, instead of returning direct, I made to walk round the house: and here my luck went out, for the rill which the woman had shown Olivia and me was very swollen, and, as I stepped across it, its bank gave way. Though I did not fall, I went in over both knees, and such was the force of the water that I was wet to the waist before I got out.

  When they saw me more drenched than before, the good people made quite a scene: though I could not understand what they said, they seemed to know at once what had happened and to be indignant with Nature for swelling the rill. Their manner was so excited and their indictment so fierce that Hubert and I could scarcely forbear to smile, and I remember thinking that they would have got on with Xerxes, who had the sea whipped and had fetters cast into its deeps, because his bridge had been broken by the force of its waves.

  However, there was nothing to be done, and ten minutes later I drove the Rolls out of the steading and on to the fast-drying road.

  Though we were close to Haydn within the hour, it was nearly ten o’clock that morning before we had taken up positions which would subserve the purpose for which we had come. Though Olivia had made us a map, we never, of course, had set eyes on the castle before and were forced to reconnoitre its surroundings with infinite care. In the end, however, we did very well.

  There was but one entrance to the castle, and seventy yards from this rose a grass-grown mound. I do not think it was natural, but rather was all that was left of some ancient fortification, commanding the castle’s approach; for the drive went curling around it, before dropping into a bottom or low-lying brake. On the top of the mound was a hollow, some two feet deep and wide enough to have covered a dozen men: and since the grass was uncropped, we could lie in this cup at our ease, yet have no fear of peering over its rim.

  So much for ourselves. B
ut such a post would have been useless, unless we could bring up the car—and, when she was up, bestow her so that she could not be seen. But luck was with us.

  The drive rose out of the bottom to sever some pleasant paddocks, as English as ever I saw. Between these fields and the bottom, and so out of sight of the house, a track led into a sand-pit some two hundred yards from the drive: and though I confess that I drove there with my heart in my mouth—for the drive was two miles long, and, had we seen the enemy coming, we had barely room to pass him, much less to avoid his eyes—at a quarter past nine that morning I turned the Rolls round in the sand-pit and threw out the clutch.

  Now a man at the head of the sand-pit could see the top of the mound. It was therefore arranged that I should stay at that point, a few yards from the car, while Hubert lay close in the cup on the top of the mound. If a car came out of the castle, Hubert would signal to me, and I should at once start the engine and bring the Rolls up to the drive as soon as I dared. Here Hubert would join me, having run from the top of the mound, when we should have nothing to do but take up the pursuit.

  After some hesitation we decided that Stiven must retire to where the drive joined the main road and must choose some point by that junction where he could lie hid. Unless he was there to tell us which way the car had turned, we should have to see this for ourselves, and that would mean following closer than really was safe. For all that, I was more than sorry to see him go, for it meant that all three must now watch without any relief, and I was already sleepy and the day was already hot.

  My fears were realized. How I fought off slumber that day, I shall never know: but to Hubert must go the honours, for he was as tired as I, yet he could not stand up and walk and so give battle, but had to lie still on his face, with the drowsy warmth of the sunshine sleeking his back.

  Be that as it may, there were times when I sat hunched up with an open knife in my fist and the point of the blade directly beneath my chin, so that when I nodded, I pricked myself back into a vigilance which my sense of duty was able no longer to command.