Cleek of Scotland Yard: Detective Stories
Page 12
CHAPTER XI
By the side of the little chattering stream that flowed throughthe bit of woodland where Mr. Nippers and his associates had comeupon them, they found Dollops, with his legs drawn up, his armsfolded across his knees and his forehead resting upon them, sleepingserenely over the embers of a burnt-out fire. He was still "makingmusic," but of a kind which needed no assistance from a mouthharmonica to produce it.
They awoke him and told him of the sudden change in the programmeand of the need for haste in carrying it out.
"Oh, so help me! Them Apaches, eh? And that foreign josser, CountWhat's-his-name, too?" said he, rubbing his eyes and blinkingsleepily. "Right you are, guv'ner! Gimme two seconds to get thecobwebs out of my thinking-box and I'm ready to face marching ordersas soon as you like. My hat! though, but this is a startler. Ican understand wot them Apache johnnies has got against you, sir,of course; but wot that Mauravanian biscuit is getting after youfor beats me. Wot did you ever do to the blighter, guv'ner? Triphim up in some little bit of crooked business, sir, and 'did himdown,' as the 'Mericans say?"
"Something like that," returned Cleek. "Don't waste time in talking.Simply get together such things as we shall need and let us be offabout our business as soon as possible."
Dollops obeyed instructions upon both points--obeyed them, indeed,with such alacrity that he shut up like an oyster forthwith, divedinto the caravan and bounced out again, and within five minutesof the time he had been told of the necessity for starting, hadstarted, and was forging away with the others over the dark, stillmoor and facing cheerily the prospect of a thirty-mile walk toCumberlandshire.
All through the night they pressed onward thus--the two men walkingshoulder to shoulder and the boy at their heels--over vast stretchesof moorland where bracken and grass hung heavy and glitteringunder their weight of dew; down the craggy sides of steep gullieswhere the spring freshets had quickened mere trickles into noisywater-splashes that spewed over the rocks, to fall into chuckling,froth-filled pools below; along twisting paths; through the dark,still woodland stretches, and thence out upon the wild, wet mooragain, with the wind in their faces and the sky all a-pricklewith steadily dimming stars. And by and by the mist-wrapped moondropped down out of sight, the worn-out night dwindled and died,and steadily brightening Glory went blushing up the east to flowerthe pathway for the footfalls of the Morning.
But as yet the farthermost outposts of Cumberland were miles beyondthe range of vision, so that the long tramp was by no means ended,and, feeling the necessity for covering as much ground as possiblewhile the world at large was still in what Dollops was wont toallude to as "the arms of Murphy's house," the little party continuedto press onward persistently.
By four o'clock they were again off the moors and in the depths ofcraggy gorges; by five they were on the borders of a deep, stilltarn, and had called a halt to light a fire and get things out ofthe bag which Dollops carried--things to eat and to drink and towear--and were enjoying a plunge in the ice-cold water the whilethe coffee was boiling; and by six--gorged with food and soothed bytobacco--they were lying sprawled out on the fragrant earth andblinking drowsily while their boots were drying before the fire. Andafter that there was a long hiatus until Cleek's voice rapped outsaying sharply, "Well, I'll be dashed! Rouse up there, you lazybeggars. Do you know that it's half-past twelve and we've beensleeping for hours?"
They knew it then, be assured, and were up and on their way againwith as little delay as possible. Rested and refreshed, they madesuch good time that two o'clock found them in the Morcam Abbeydistrict, just over the borders of Cumberland, and, with appetitessharpened for luncheon, bearing down on a quaint little hostlerywhose signboard announced it as the Rose and Thistle.
"Well, there's hospitality if you like," said Cleek, as, at theirapproach, a cheery-faced landlady bobbed up at an open window and,seeing them, bobbed away again and ran round to welcome them withsmiles and curtseys delivered from the arch of a vine-bowered door.
"Welcome, gentlemen, welcome," beamed she as they came up and joinedher. "But however in the world did you manage to get over hereso soon?--the train not being due at Shepperton Old Cross untilfive-and-twenty past one, and that a good mile and a quarter away asthe crow flies. However, better too early than too late--MajorNorcross and Lady Mary being already here and most anxious to meetyou."
As it happened that neither Cleek nor Mr. Narkom had any personalacquaintance with the lady and gentleman mentioned, it was soclearly a case of mistaken identity that the superintendent hadit on the tip of his tongue to announce the fact, when thereclashed out the sound of a door opening and shutting rapidly, aclatter of hasty footsteps along the passage, and presently therecame into view the figure of a bluff, hearty, florid-faced man ofabout five-and-forty, who thrust the landlady aside and threw ametaphorical bombshell by exclaiming excitedly:
"My dear sir, I never was so delighted. Talk about English slowness.Why, this is prompt enough to satisfy a Yankee. I never dispatchedmy letter to you until late yesterday afternoon, Mr. Narkom,and--by the way, which _is_ Mr. Narkom, and which that amazing Mr.Cleek? Or, never mind--perhaps that clever johnnie will be cominglater; you can tell me all about that afterward. For the present,come along. Let's not keep Lady Mary waiting--she's anxious. Thisway, please."
Here--as Mr. Narkom had lost no time in acknowledging his identity,it being clear that no mistake had been made after all--here hecaught the superintendent by the arm, whisked him down the passage,and throwing open the door at the end of it, announced excitedly,"All right, Mary. The Yard's answered--the big reward's caught 'em,as I knew it would--and here's Narkom. That chap Cleek will comeby a later train, no doubt."
The response to this came from an unexpected quarter. Of a suddenthe man he had left standing at the outer door, under the impressionthat he was in no way connected with the superintendent, but merelya gentleman who had reached the inn at the same time, came downthe passage to the open door, brushed past him into the room,and announced gravely, "Permit me to correct an error, please,Major. The 'man Cleek' is not coming later--he is here, and verymuch at your and Lady Mary Norcross' service, believe me. I havelong known the name of Major Seton Norcross as one which stands highin the racing world--as that, indeed, of the gentleman who owns thefinest stud in the kingdom and whose filly, Highland Lassie, isfirst favourite for the forthcoming Derby--and I now have the honourof meeting the gentleman himself, it seems."
The effect of this was somewhat disconcerting. For, as he concludedit, he put out his hand and rested it upon Mr. Narkom's shoulder,whereat Lady Mary half rose from her seat, only to sit down againsuddenly and look round at her liege lord with uplifted eyebrowsand lips slightly parted. Afterward she declared of the two menstanding side by side in that familiar manner: "One reminded meof an actor trying to play the part of a person of distinction, andthe other of a person of distinction trying to play the part of anordinary actor and not quite able to keep what he really was fromshowing through the veneer of what he was trying to be."
The major, however, was too blunt to bottle up his sentiments at anytime, and being completely bowled over in the present instance putthem into bluff, outspoken, characteristic words.
"Oh, gum games!" he blurted out. "If you really are Cleek----"
"I really am. Mr. Narkom will stand sponsor for that."
"But, good lud, man! Oh, look here, you know, this is all tommyrot!What under God's heaven has brought a chap like you down to this sortof thing?"
"Opinions differ upon that score, Major," said Cleek quietly. "So farfrom being 'brought down,' it is my good friend, Mr. Narkom here,who has brought me _up_ to it--and made me his debtor for life."
"Debtor nothing! Don't talk rubbish. As if it were possible for agentleman not to recognize a gentleman!"
"It would not be so easy, I fear, if he were a good actor--and youhave just done me the compliment of indirectly telling me that Imust be one. It is very nice of you but--may we not let it go atthat? I fancy from
what I hear that I, too, shall soon be in theposition to pay compliments, Major. I hear on every side thatHighland Lassie is sure to carry off the Derby--in fact that,unless a miracle occurs, there'll be no horse 'in it' but her."
Here both the major and his wife grew visibly excited.
"Gad, sir!" exclaimed he, in a voice of deep despair. "I'm afraidyou will have to amend that statement so that it may read, 'unlessa miracle occurs there will be _every_ horse in it but her'--everyblessed one from Dawson-Blake's Tarantula, the second favourite, downto the last 'also ran' of the lot."
"Good heavens! The filly hasn't 'gone wrong' suddenly, has she?"
"She's done more than 'gone wrong'--she's _gone altogether_! Somebeastly, low-lived cur of a horse thief broke into the stables thenight before last and stole her--stole her, sir, body and bones--andthere's not so much as a hoofprint to tell what became of her."
"Well, I'm blest!"
"Are you? B'gad, then, you're about the only one who knows about itthat is! For as if that wasn't bad enough, I've not only lost thebest filly in England but the best trainer as well: and the brutethat carried off the one got at the other at the same time, dash him!"
"What do you mean by 'got at' the trainer, Major? Did the man takea bribe and 'sell' you that way?"
"What, Tom Farrow? Never in God's world! Not that kind of a chap, byGeorge! The man that offered Tom Farrow a bribe would spend the restof the week in bed--gad, yes! A more faithful chap never drew thebreath of life. God only knows when or how the thing happened, butFarrow was found on the moor yesterday morning--quite unconsciousand at death's door. He had been bludgeoned in the most brutalmanner imaginable. Not only was his right arm broken, but his skullwas all but crushed in. There was concussion of the brain, of course.Poor fellow, he can't speak a word, and the chances are that henever will be able to do so again."
"Bad business, that," declared Cleek, looking grave. "Any idea ofwho may possibly have been the assailant? Local police picked upanything in the nature of a clue?"
"The local police know nothing whatsoever about it. I have notreported the case to them."
"Not reported----H'm! rather unusual course, that, to pursue, isn'tit? When a man has his place broken into, a valuable horse stolen,and his trainer all but murdered, one would naturally suppose thathis first act would be to set the machinery of the law in motionwithout an instant's delay. That is, unless----H'm! Yes! Just so."
"What is 'just so'?" inquired the major eagerly. "You seem to havehit upon some sort of an idea right at the start. Mind telling mewhat it is?"
"Certainly not. I could imagine that when a man keeps silent aboutsuch a thing at such a time there is a possibility that he has afaint idea of who the criminal may be and that he has excellentreasons for not wishing the world at large to share that idea. Inother words, that he would sooner lose the value of the animalfifty times over than have the crime brought home to the personhe suspects."