“Samuel, we must leave. We’ve got to find Mr. Peters and Lynn—Lynn is dead.”
“Your friend is dead?” he said disbelievingly, fear and confusion flickering over his face. “But we haven’t killed anyone.”
“No, I know you didn’t, but we must go to the authorities.”
“I’m sorry. I must keep you here. It’s for your own safety that I even agreed to do this job. You know what can happen when a group becomes worked up—it turns into a mob. They’re angry and frightened now, so the best thing to do is cooperate and stay in the house.”
“But why, Samuel, why? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Go back inside,” he said sternly as he lit a cigarette.
She complied with a heavy heart, stifling the impulse to lash out angrily at Samuel. Wordlessly she sat at the table sipping a tepid mug of coffee. It was an incredibly depressing situation, she brooded, to be held here against their will by these inscrutably sullen people. With numb acceptance, she had to acknowledge that Mr. Peters was most likely being held also and Lynn, her friend and roommate, was dead. Her body was lying alone and untended in the attic while the rain drummed on relentlessly.
The fires were spiritless, hissing sluggishly now and then as Grev tried to urge them to life. He fiddled with the dampers and drafts unsuccessfully as the room became acrid and wispy with smoke film.
“It’s the fog,” he explained. “It seems to have settled right over the chimneys and won’t let the smoke out.”
Kate nodded disinterestedly, relishing, in a peculiar way, the damp chill of the house. It seemed appropriate.
Suddenly Grev’s voice was calling excitedly from the far end of the house. “Kate. Kate, come here. You won’t believe what I’ve found!”
She found him in the living room, where he enthusiastically guided her through the closet into the Indian room.
“Oh, that,” she remarked listlessly. “Yes, I know.”
“You know?” he exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell me? How long have you known? What a tremendous find!”
“I found it when I first came.” In answer to his incredulous look, she replied defensively, “I don’t really know why I didn’t mention it. I guess because it seemed almost sacred. It doesn’t belong to us, or to the Bourkes’ or to any white people at all. Obviously it’s an integral part of the native heritage, probably of the local Indians’.”
“But why couldn’t you share it with me?” he persisted.
“I suppose because I wasn’t sure about you. I wasn’t certain what you’d be inclined to do with all of this. You were so enthusiastic about the few other Indian things scattered throughout the house and full of talk about museums, appraisers, and...” she concluded lamely, “well, I thought it should be considered carefully.” He was angry and hurt, she knew, but she was determined to be honestly candid.
“Your trust in me is overwhelming,” he said sarcastically.
Her spirits sunk even lower. “I expect I would have told you today. Actually, I thought about it last night but then, well, everything happened. I might as well admit now that another thing that was bothering me was this. I still have a vision of you subdividing this property and summer cottages and pretentious homes springing up all over. As Lynn said, you’d make a fortune doing that and I know a fortune is what you’d like.” She hesitated as she watched him turn livid.
“Now, you listen to me, young lady!” he roared. “I thought I had clarified my stand on that, but I suppose that means nothing, when Lynn’s opinion will do just as well. I’ll have you know that I bought this because it’s the only place that I’ve had the opportunity to acquire that’s unspoiled, or the closest thing to unspoiled that’s available in this day and age. Of course I want a fortune. This place is a fortune and the only way a man can own a place like this and not have to exploit it is by having a fortune in the first place. We’re getting to the point where we can afford to keep it as it is. What do you think I am, some sort of rip-off artist?”
She accepted his outpourings contritely. She knew he was speaking the truth and had the grace to be ashamed of not having instinctively known the truth herself. “All I can say is that I’m sorry. I was wondering early this morning how I ever could have doubted you.”
His fury was spent. “Hey, it’s okay. I guess I came on a little strong. Things pertaining to this place have transpired in such a weird, unorganized way that it’s no wonder you didn’t know what was going on.”
She was grateful for his warm forgiveness and quick understanding. “You’re really special,” she said.
Time, and their inability to do anything constructive with it, hung heavy on their hands. It was futile to further discuss unanswerable questions. The rain continued with increasing fury. Samuel and Luke continued their silent watch, alternating stations periodically.
Now and then Kate or Grev would nod off to sleep wherever they happened to be sitting, only to awaken shortly, feeling cold, stiff, and uneasy. The fires continued to reject an appetizing assortment of slender kindling, newspapers, and pleading requests.
“How did the pioneers survive,” she asked, “if their fires wouldn’t burn when they were most needed?”
“I expect they kept their chimneys clean. It’s probably been a long time since these were done. I only wish I could find a way out of here. I’d like to know what they’ve done with Percy. It’s so frustrating to be doing nothing at all!”
“Oh, dear, I’ve done it again,” Kate said guiltily. “There is a way out of here. I found it last night when I was trying to find the way to the attic. I simply forgot to tell you and I swear I had no ulterior motives.”
“I believe you, now show me,” he said anxiously.
“First, let’s see where Samuel and Luke are, just to be safe.”
Samuel was sitting in the shed again while Luke’s area of patrol was gradually becoming smaller. He paced now and then along the front of the house and would peer along each side. It was apparent that the men weren’t too concerned with the back of the house, perched as it was high over the cliff.
“All right,” she said at last. “This way.”
Grev was chagrined that he had not found anything as obvious as a door although Kate explained that she had moved several things to expose it. “There’re shrubs and weeds growing directly in front of the door. I’m almost positive
that it’s invisible from the outside unless you know that it’s there.”
“That will do very nicely, thank you, ma’am. Let’s hustle up some lunch and then I’ll be off.”
“You’ll be off? I’m going too.”
“Not this trip, you’re not. I’m merely going to see if I can find Percy and if I do, get him back here. I’d also like to get some idea of what’s going on before we make a mad run to safety.”
“I suppose you’re right. After all, where can anyone escape to on an island? It would be hard to accomplish even with a boat right now. I’d feel better if I were with you, though.”
“I’d feel better if you were here. Those two characters would become suspicious if there was no sign of life here for a while. Then we’d have the entire population hunting us down like fugitives.”
“That’s true. Please be careful.”
“Don’t worry. Now, let’s eat.”
After lunch, Grev caught Samuel’s attention at the window. He yawned extravagantly and made a silly mime of sleep with his hands on his cheek. They watched furtively as Luke made one of his periodic patrols before bracing himself inside the shed to have a cigarette.
Grev kissed her warmly. “Keep the home fires burning or at least smoking. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
In a repetition of last night, she again felt the cold emptiness of his absence. “Weak, dependent female,” she scolded herself severely as she struggled with the balky fires. She had never before seen such a heavy rain continue for so long and hoped that it would abate somewhat while Grev was out. But no, the clouds looked dark, low, and stil
l heavy with burdensome precipitation.
She worked slowly, tidying the kitchen and washing the dishes in the hope that the men would be reassured to see her now and then. Nothing seemed to distract them, which she took to mean that Grev had escaped unnoticed. She shuddered with the realization that they had assumed that no other sentries were posted on the property.
“Come back safely,” she breathed.
Time slowed, then became interminably plodding. She chose a book, struggled to absorb what she was reading. How many hours had passed— one, two? She had no idea. Surely he had been gone too long. She went to the door.
“Samuel,” she called, “I need more wood. May I come to get it?”
He shook his head but brought a bundle to her arms. Both men looked soddenly miserable.
“Thank you,” she said, quickly closing the door before it occured to them that they could just as well stand guard inside the house. She wondered why they hadn’t thought of it. Perhaps the leader had said, “You two patrol outside the house to insure that they don’t leave.” Most likely, it had not been raining when the order had been given.
She watched nervously as the two men conferred for a moment, glancing disgustedly toward the house. She barricaded the door as best she could. “Hurry, Grev. Hurry.”
In a miraculous answer to her wish, she heard footsteps on the basement stairs. Grev poked his wet head around the corner.
“Keep them at the front, talking. I don’t care if you have to stand on your head to distract them, but keep them there until I get back.” He was gone before she had a chance to reply.
Obediently she removed the barricades from the door.
“I’m just making a fresh pot of coffee,” she called. “Would you like some?”
Of course they did. She spent as long as possible discussing the amount of cream and sugar that each preferred.
“You are a most dishonest man, Luke Morgan,” she began conversationally. “Do you know,” she said to Samuel, “that Grev paid him to get the heat and power operating? Then he said nothing and let me pay him again for the same job, which he still hasn’t done. As a matter of fact, he disassembled the heat ducts. It’s quite obvious he’s trying to freeze us out.”
“How much money?” Samuel asked him contemptuously.
“Not too much,” he mumbled.
“That’s stealing. Accepting money for a job you knew you weren’t going to do.”
“Has anyone decided what to do with us as yet?” she asked, amused at the moral concerns of the man with the gun. “We’ve all had a long wait.”
“Someone should bring word soon,” replied Samuel.
Noises from behind her indicated that Grev had returned. “All clear,” he whispered.
“The coffee won’t be too long,” Kate said as she hastily shut the door. She found Grev slumped against the basement door, panting in exhaustion. In a sodden heap on the floor beside him was the crumpled body of Percival Peters.
“Oh, no!” she cried. “He’s not dead too?”
“No, no. He’s only unconscious. I’m not sure why. It could be exposure or injury or perhaps he’s been sedated. Right now, we’re going to put him in a warm, dry bed. As a matter of fact, I’m going to put myself into one as well and I think you should sleep for a few hours also.”
Grev carried Mr. Peters like a wet puppy to the bedroom. His face was strained and tired. “I think I’ve got it figured out,” he said as he went to the kitchen door.
He called to the men: “Forget the coffee. I want you to get word to everyone involved in this thing to come up here for a meeting tonight at seven.”
Samuel and Luke stared in frightened reaction to Grev’s dripping hair and wet clothing.
“There’s no need to guard us until then. We’re not going anywhere. This time I really am going to bed.”
Chapter 17
Luke disappeared while Grev was sleeping, but Samuel diligently remained on guard.
Kate was too restless to sleep and was in an agony of tension wondering if the islanders would come. She speculated about any decisions they may have come to and what conclusions Grev had reached. It was foolish to attempt to reason with a large group. Emotions could easily get out of hand. Perhaps it would have been better to talk to a few key people first.
How many would come? She would need to serve tea or coffee, she supposed, as these were her first real resident visitors. The irony of the situation hit her. How different from her daydreams of serenely greeting welcoming neighbors. Oh, well, make the best of it, she told herself.
It was six-thirty when she heard them coming, heard their footsteps coming down the lane. Nearly the entire population, she guessed, turning nervously from the window.
“Grev! Grev, wake up. They’re coming already. It’s early but they’re coming down the lane. Oh, Grev, they look like a vigilante committee!”
“Calm down. Let them in and be friendly. I was going to talk this over with you but it’s too late now. Just play it by ear. How’s Percy?”
“He’s getting restless, moving a bit, but he’s not yet conscious.”
“Just leave him for now. Away you go. Let them in.
With trembling hands, she opened the door and greeted them with gestures of welcome. “Come in. I’m sorry it’s such a wet night. Go by the living- room fire. I’ll bring more chairs.”
The Moonsongs and Casey nodded in vague recognition. The others walked by her blindly. Why, they’re afriad, she realized. Nervous, frightened people. Maybe things would work out. “Come this way,” she said to the blur of faces. “Grev will be out shortly.”
“Hello,” he said warmly when he came into the room to face the uneasy, silent group. “Thank you so much for coming. I hope we’ll find that by talking this situation over calmly, we will clarify things for all of us. I’m Grev Carlson, and this of course is Katie O’Brian.”
“Mr. Carlson, we’ve not come out for a social gathering,” spoke up Mr. Grayson. “This is a serious situation that must be resolved.”
His wife, Kate saw, was visibly trembling, her face drawn taut as her husband continued. “The position of the islanders, Mr. Carlson, is this: We do not want a real estate firm involved with this island. We do not want you here. We’ve asked you to leave and you have refused. Our offer to buy this property for a very modest sum has not been accepted, either. We can offer no more than that. We are not a rich community and our incomes are marginal. We’ve even suggested that you simply abandon this place, while we pay the taxes and
care for it. You have not cooperated with any of our suggestions at all.”
“I might mention that they are the suggestions of desperate people. Why don’t you want us here?” Grev asked.
Casey spoke now. “We don’t want the island subdivided and commercialized. We’re here for the natural beauty and privacy.”
“I have no intention of subdividing or commercializing. In fact, the only thing I might change is to fix the front door and the furnace. In that case, would you be happy to have us stay here?”
“No, no. You must leave,” said Mrs. Grayson, her hands knotting in agitation.
“But why?” Kate pleaded. “Why are we so unacceptable to you? We’re not the revered Bourkes, but surely we’re not all that bad.”
Eyes were averted and no one met her impassioned gaze.
“I believe that’s where we’re mistaken,” Grev said, looking intently at the uneasy faces. “Am I right when I say that the Bourkes were not revered, not admired, and certainly not loved? I think I could go so far as to say they were despised. Am I right?”
The faces froze. Eyes were dark and brooding. Fingers twined nervously. Grev watched them for a while. When he spoke again, it was almost with pity.
“It was because of the water, wasn’t it?”
“Well, really it was because of the tea,” said an excited falsetto. They turned to see Mr. Peters pad into the room wearing a ridiculous chenille dressing gown. “As I was saying to
you the other morning, that was a grand cup of tea. And tea, as you know, is only as good as the water with which it’s made.
“As I began my appraisal, I began to think about that tea and of course about the water. I listened and heard no electric pump; in fact, there doesn’t seem to be power at all. So if there was no pump and the water pressure is strong, as I found it to be, it had to follow that the water came from a spring.”
“I never once wondered where the water came from,” Kate admitted in confusion as she made room on the sofa for the little man.
“Well, I have a very inquiring mind,” he said smugly. “I looked around and saw that the highest point of land was some distance off to the right. Because of the pressure, you see. I was almost there when this man”—he pointed an accusing finger at Samuel—”very rudely stopped me, tied me up, and deposited me right at the spring. In fact, I was put in a shelter enclosing the pressure system. Very cleverly camouflaged, too, I might add. Then, that man”—he indicated Casey—”gave me a shot. When I awoke I was here again, in bed.”
“Yes,” said Grev. “Of course, it’s all because of the water. This amazing spring,” he explained to Kate, “is on this property, and therein lies the problem. It serves the whole island.”
“But we were here first,” said Samuel bitterly. “For many years my people carried water from that spring. Later, we built a flume to carry it to our homes.”
“Mrs. Bourke’s father, old Mr. Courtenay, he bought this property,” said Mrs. Morgan. “He built his home here and said to us that the life we were living then, back in the city, was no life at all. So we came and in time others came who felt the need of this life. Oh, it was a fine and good life then.” She sighed.
“Yes, it was good then,” spoke another middle- aged woman whom Kate didn’t know. “Mr. Courtenay always stressed how dependent we all were on the marvelous spring we have here. Following his advice, we worked on it. We dug ditches, we laid pipes. We buried them, installed the pressure system, and built the enclosure. We have a clean, pure source of water, all year round. It’s for all of us.” There were tears in her eyes.
The Secret of Bourke's Mansion Page 13
