Safe Custody and Laughing Bacchante

by Dornford Yates

  “No doubt,” said Mansel, dryly.

  Palin stared. Then he started up to his feet.

  “My God,” he cried, “you don’t mean—”

  “It’s not your fault,” said Mansel. “You should have been warned. But I think it more than likely that Friar is the head of this gang.”

  “But—”

  “Fellows and tutors of Oxford don’t leave Oxford in June.”

  “No, they don’t,” said Palin. “That never occurred to me. And yet I can hardly believe . . . Still, he did take an interest in the water. God in heaven, I showed the fellow the sluice.”

  There was a dreadful silence.

  The gems were walled into a chamber; over that wall a cascade was falling down; no one could breach that wall, without letting down the sluice. But once the sluice was down, the chamber could be opened in half an hour.

  Mansel got to his feet.

  “I think we should be moving,” he said. “If they didn’t break in last night, we may be in time.”

  I shall always remember that drive.

  Though by rights we should have been tired, the urgency of the business set us alert. And Carson and Bell were on their toes. For such as know its flavor, danger is a wonderful spice.

  As Bell took a pistol from the locker, “It’s like old times, sir,” he said.

  And then we were all in the Rolls, and Palin was sitting with Mansel, to tell him the way to go. I was kneeling behind and between them, to hear what they said.

  “The private road,” said Palin, “is two miles long. If you don’t want to drive that bit, you can berth the car in a wood. By the way, have you got a flashlight?”

  “Be your age,” said Mansel. “We’re old in sin.”

  “God be praised,” said Palin. “The point is this. If the sluice is down, water will not be flowing down in the woods. I will make my way down there, complete with flashlight. If the water is flowing, I signal twice. If it is not flowing, which God forbid, I signal five times.”

  “Aren’t you assuming,” said Mansel, “that they will go in by the gate?”

  “Wrong again,” said Palin. “Of course they won’t. The drawbridge is up of nights when the Ferrers are gone. They’ll go in by the postern steps. Not the postern itself. That’s barred. But, if they can reach the terrace . . .”

  “Go on.”

  “Well, I could do it,” said Palin. “A pane of glass and a shutter wouldn’t stop me.”

  “What about the stables? I seem to remember that trees lean over their roofs.”

  “That would bring them into the courtyard. I’d put the terrace first.”

  “The terrace has it,” said Mansel. “What else d’you know?”

  “The water remains,” said Palin. “If that’s not flowing, they’re in.”

  “Or they’ve been and gone,” said Mansel. “Once they’d got the stuff, they wouldn’t pull up the sluice.”

  “You know,” said Palin, “you’ve got a nasty mind. I’ve lost quite half a stone since you sprang the mine. I don’t say I can’t afford it, but must you twist my tail?”

  “Sorry,” said Mansel, laughing, “but facts have got to be faced.”

  “Oh, dear. And he made me laugh. The things he said about Gibbon. D’you really think he’s your man?”

  “Yes, I do,” said Mansel. “He’s just the sort of wallah I thought would be on this job. But it’s not your fault at all. I should have done the same, if I hadn’t been warned. How far is the private road?”

  “About four miles, now. There’s a village a mile ahead.”

  “Tell me before I get there. I want to put out my lights.”

  “Then put them out,” said Palin. “It’s round that bend.”

  The night was very dark, but though the way was strange, Mansel drove without lights till we came to the private road; here he had to use them, because of the woods.

  “Where is this place,” said Mansel, “at which we can berth the car?”

  “On the left,” said Palin, “about a furlong ahead.”

  A moment later I saw the mouth of a track.

  Mansel changed to a lower gear.

  As he lifted the Rolls from the road and into the track, he brought her up all standing, and Palin exclaimed.

  Six paces in front of us was standing another car.

  I was out in a flash and was moving along its off side; but the driver’s seat was empty, and when I used my flashlight, I saw that there was no one within the car. This was a very nice Lowland and must have been very fast. The switch and the hood were locked, but the doors were not.

  “All clear?” said Mansel, beside me.

  I told him yes.

  “Good,” says he. “But it’s just as well we came.” He turned to speak to Palin. “How far are we from the castle?”

  “About two miles.”

  “In that case they’re almost certainly using a second car. Bell, keep an eye on that road—toward the castle, I mean. Carson, turn the Rolls, take her back to the highway and cruise to and fro. William, back this car down and leave her across the road; I think her weight will do it, if you take the hand brake off.”

  As the Rolls moved out of my way, I did as he said—to bring the Lowland to rest directly across the road. So nothing could ever go by—not even a bicycle.

  “Cut the ignition wires, William. I’ll attend to the tires.”

  Two minutes later, the Lowland was out of commission. She could not be driven; until her tires were inflated, she could not be moved by hand. And until she was out of the way, nothing could pass.

  “Well, that’s that,” said Mansel. “We’ve shut the stable door. We may as well go on and have a word with the thieves. Or shall we stay here and receive them? They’re sure to come back.”

  “We’d better go on,” I said.

  “Palin forward,” said Mansel. “He knows the way.”

  Bell went on, to see if the drawbridge was raised. We waited for the beam of his flashlight, before descending the road to the valley below. This gave to the postern steps, by which it seemed certain the thieves would attempt their entry. What was much more important, it led to the running water, the absence of which would show that the sluice was down.

  After a moment or two, Bell’s torch winked twice, to say that the drawbridge was up.

  It was now not quite so dark, for soon the moon would rise. This helped us very much, for the last thing we wanted to do was to show a light, while we were taking the way that the thieves had used. The glow of Bell’s torch was directed away from the castle, and so should not have been seen, except by ourselves.

  So we made our way down to the meadows below the castle itself, moving fairly slowly, that Bell might have time to rejoin us before we left the road.

  Sure enough, at the edge of the meadows was standing a second car, which Palin was ready to swear was the one which Friar had used when he stayed at the inn. No one was with the car, so we took the contact breaker and let her be.

  Then Palin led the way to the water. But this was gushing as usual out of the woods.

  “Good,” said Mansel. “Tell me about this sluice.”

  “It’s a slab of stone,” said Palin, “that runs in a groove. Where it is, I don’t know. Stout boards would do in its place, but they’d have to fit.”

  “That may be their trouble,” said Mansel, “fitting the boards. I take it you explained this to Friar?”

  “More or less,” sighed Palin. “This was the castle’s supply in ancient days. He said he’d seen the same system once before; but there had been a means of cutting it off. Not to be beaten, I instantly spilled the beans.”

  And, with his words, the flow of the water diminished, but did not stop.

  “That’s right,” said Mansel, calmly. “They’re getting warm. Let’s go up and watch them, shall we? As I understand the position, they’ve got some way to go yet.”

  I could not see Palin’s face, but I saw him take off his hat and wipe his brow.


  We climbed the postern steps, and there, at their head, was standing an excellent ladder, to take us up to the ramparts, hanging above. And a terrace window was open, to let us into the house.

  There Palin took charge; and, after what seemed a long time, he led us down into a dungeon, where men were talking quietly and showing a light.

  There were, in fact, two dungeons, the inner of which was larger and lower down than the first. It was there that the men were busy, and standing at the head of the steps which led to the second dungeon out of the first, we could see what they were doing and hear what they said.

  There were, in all, four men, and one, with his back to us, was sitting upon a stool. On his knees he had a small searchlight, with which he illumined the scene.

  It was a sinister place, with a well in its floor. Its walls were of living rock, but in one, some five feet up, were signs of masonry. I had the impression of a doorway that had been closed; and then I knew that that was the way to the chamber in which the gems were concealed. Above this was gaping the conduit by which the water had passed; the stones and the mortar were reeking with damp and with slime, and the well in the floor was directly in line with the conduit some five feet away from the wall.

  The stones were roughly laid, and the layers of mortar between them were finger thick. With a decent hammer and chisel, I could have cut a way in in a very short time—but not without a ladder on which to stand; and set up a ladder, you could not, because of the well. To this, the floor was sloping, and, since the flags could not be seen for the slime, no ladder could have stood by itself; yet no man could have held it, for he would have slipped; and once he had lost his footing, he must have gone into the depths.

  This, then, was the thieves’ dilemma. They had uncovered the doorway; they had the hammers and chisels with which to cut their way in; but they could not approach the doorway, because whoever did was bound to slide into the well.

  The man with the searchlight was speaking.

  “ ‘And beside all this, between us and you there is a great gulf fixed’—a fact which Punter the Bold preferred to keep to himself.” He sucked in his breath. “I wish he was here. Never mind. When he returns to the fold, we’ll have things out. Don’t forget that, will you? Supfressio veri is a practice I cannot commend. I don’t mind suggestio falsi, because I am never deceived; but its twin is a dart of the wicked, against which no man is proof.”

  Another spoke over his shoulder.

  “What we want is a hurdle,” he said, “to cover that blasted well.”

  “But what a brain!” said Friar, for it was he, of course, that had spoken first. “But I have an uneasy feeling that hurdles are, at the moment, in what is called ‘short supply.’ A very beautiful phrase. What about a carpet, Orris? A twenty-foot square of carpet. I feel that might save your soul.”

  “That’s all right,” said a third. “An’ a ledder’ll stend on that—an’ cover the well.”

  “Thank you, Goat,” said Friar. “It’s always gratifying to have the obvious perceived—and a declaration, however obscure, made to that effect. Orris and Sloper will now go and win a carpet, while you and I await the fruit of their toil. Get on, you double — . You heard what I said.”

  The tone in which he had spoken was like the crack of a whip, and the two men, Orris and Sloper, fairly jumped in their skins.

  As they turned to do his bidding Orris said, “We’ll ’ave to ’ave the ladder.”

  “I’ll see to that. You go and find a carpet, twenty-foot square.”

  We melted into the shadows, to watch, first, Orris and Sloper, and then the others go by.

  “What could be better?” said Mansel. “Let’s pull up the sluice, while they’re gone, and take the boards away.”

  This took hardly a minute, for Palin showed us the way.

  “Can we reach the steps by a window? I’d like to see them out.”

  “Follow me,” said Palin.

  Mansel touched my arm.

  “See how we go, William. I’d like you and Bell to come back.”

  So it fell out that, when we had learned how to reach the postern steps, Bell and I came back to the dungeons, to watch what befell.

  Returned to its proper channel, a powerful head of water was plunging into the well; because it fell within walls, the bellow it made was monstrous, and so, if words were spoken, I cannot tell what they were. But, when Friar and his man returned, they seemed, at first, unable to credit the report of their eyes. Then with one consent, they let the ladder fall and turned and ran for the sluice.

  Finding their boards removed, they, both of them, drew their pistols, and peered to and fro, all ready to meet the onslaught which did not come. And when the others arrived, dragging a square of carpet and damning its weight, they cursed them into silence, to the others’ great indignation, because, of course, they knew nothing of what had occurred. All this we saw very well from behind the first dungeon’s door, for the lights were on in the passage which led to the sluice. That I was shaking with laughter, I frankly admit, for few things are more entertaining than to see a man fall into the pit you have digged.

  Then Friar gave the word to withdraw, which, using the utmost caution, they presently did. But first they retrieved the ladder—greatly against their will; but they did not know how else to reach the postern steps. Indeed, I never saw men so much discomfited. Not that I blame them at all, for what had happened smacked of the supernatural, and the passages and the dungeons offered a natural background to such activity.

  We saw them on to the ramparts, to join them, later on, on the postern steps, and we watched them bestow the ladder within the woods. And then, with Mansel and Palin, we watched them deal with the car.

  I do not wish to labor the matter, but several minutes went by before it occurred to Friar that the hand that had pulled up their sluice had interfered with his car, and the frantic efforts of his fellows to make the engine fire reduced us to tears of mirth. And then at last they found that the contact breaker was gone. While they were digesting this outrage, Palin and Bell went on to intercept Carson and wait at the end of the drive; but Mansel and I stayed behind, in case of accidents.

  From what they said, it was clear that it never entered their heads that the Lowland might have been found, and Friar spoke well of himself, as being a man that kept a spare string for his bow. And so, at last, they set off—all very short of temper and two, who had been “swinging” the shaft, scarce able to stand—to walk the two miles to the car which should carry them home.

  As soon as they had started, Mansel and I took the ladder and laid it out of sight by the postern steps; and then we followed the rogues, to overtake them before they had reached the main drive.

  So we moved together, some twenty-five paces apart.

  And then they came to the Lowland, lying across the road.

  For a moment, they all stood still.

  “He’s here,” said Friar. “This is Mansel. I might have known.” He turned in his tracks. “Are you there, Captain Mansel? I’d like to talk with you.”

  “Then put up your hands,” said Mansel. “I’m not alone.”

  “Today to you,” said Friar, and did as he said.

  “Your companions will do the same and will stand by your side.”

  At this there was some hesitation. Then somebody lighted a flashlight and Mansel fired.

  As the flashlight was shattered, Mansel said, “I trust that will show you that I mean what I say.

  Before he had finished speaking, the four were in line. “Take their arms, William.”

  I took their pistols away and came back to his side.

  “And now,” said Mansel, “what do you want to say?”

  “Deal with me,” said Friar. “If you don’t, I go to the Boche.”

  “I don’t deal with thieves,” said Mansel.

  “D’you think you can deal with the Boche?”

  “Nobody can,” said Mansel. “That’s why you won’t try.”

&
nbsp; “I will—in the last resort.”

  “I’m afraid I’m not playing,” said Mansel. “Do as you please.”

  “I can get this stuff out of the country. You cannot. I can’t help feeling there’s room for a bargain there.”

  “In your eyes, perhaps. Not in mine. Tonight you have shown that you are a common thief. And common thieves are people with whom I never deal—except as I have tonight.”

  “I see. D’you know a man called Palin?”

  “I do,” said Mansel. “It’s thanks to him that I’m here. When he wired that you were leaving, I left at once.”

  A pregnant silence greeted this pregnant lie.

  Then—

  “About these cars,” said Friar.

  “You can take them both,” said Mansel, “provided you waste no time. You see, this is blocking the drive. When you’ve inflated the tires, you can push her straight. Then you can bring up the other and tow her away.” He turned to me. “The contact breaker, William.”

  I took it out of my pocket and pitched it down on the ground.

  “You think of everything, don’t you?”

  “I try to,” said Mansel. “How’s Punter?”

  “He’s alive at the moment,” said Friar.

  “I see. Well, now I’ve arrangements to make, so I must get back to the castle. I think it would be a mistake for us to meet again.”

  “The mistake will be made, Captain Mansel.”

  “As you please. It’s now three o’clock. If your cars are still here at five they’ll be taken off the estate and wrecked for good.”

  With that, he turned on his heel and I followed him down the drive, with the firearms which I had taken still in my hands.

  We walked as far as the fork, where one road led on to the castle and the other, up which we had come, to the foot of the postern steps. And there we concealed the pistols and waited to see that the rogues would do as we said.

  Five minutes later, Sloper and Goat arrived—and, having turned the corner, sat down on the bank and lighted their cigarettes.

  “Gorblime,” said Goat. “ ’E can’ put this acrost me. Did you ever see such a — in all your life?”

  “Give ’im a chance,” said Sloper. “Them jools is worf all Bon’ Street—and then some more. Can’ expec’ roses all the way.”