“I’m not going, sir.” John waited until the head drooped again, and then walked quietly to the door which led into the dressing-room.
Winkfield was dozing in a high-backed chair by the table, but he got up quickly, an anxious question in his face.
“I think your master would be the better for his cordial,” John said. “He is tired, but he will not permit me to leave him until he has told me something that seems to be on his mind. I think it will be best to let him have his way. Give me the cordial! I’ll see he drinks it.”
The valet nodded, and turned to measure it into a wineglass. “If you could set his mind at rest, sir——!”
“I can at least try to do so. Tell me this! Does that hang-gallows fellow below-stairs force himself upon Miss Nell’s notice?”
“Once, sir—but I happened to be at hand. Since then, no. Not yet.”
John nodded, taking the glass from him. “Send me word if he should become troublesome!” he said, and went back into the bedchamber.
Sir Peter’s eyes were closed, but he opened them as John came across the room, and said irritably: “I wasn’t asleep! What’s this?”
“Your cordial, sir.”
“I don’t want the stuff!”
“Very well, sir. I’ll take my leave, then.”
“Damned, managing fellow!” snapped Sir Peter. “Sit down!”
John put the glass into his groping hand, and guided it to his mouth. Sir Peter drank a little, and was silent for a few moments. Then he said, in a stronger voice: “Do as you’re bid! I’m not so feeble I have to be spoon-fed!”
John obeyed him, drawing up the chair lately occupied by Nell, but he did not say anything. Sir Peter slowly drank the cordial. He made no demur when the empty glass was gently removed from his clasp; he appeared to be lost in thought, his eyes staring straight before him. Presently he turned them towards John, and said: “They think they can hoax me, but they can’t. All of them!—treating me as if I were a child, or an imbecile! I can’t get the truth from one of them—not even from Winkfield, though he’s served me for thirty years! Bacup is as bad! Thinks it would send me to roost if I knew what was going on in my house, I don’t doubt! Bottleheaded old woman! They’ve all gone, the men I knew and could trust. Birkin was the last of them, and he slipped his wind two years ago. It’s a bad thing to outlive your generation, my boy.”
“Will you tell me what’s in your mind, sir? If I know the answer to whatever it is you wish to be told, I’ll give it you.”
“I believe you will: you haven’t a cozening face. You’re a gentleman, too. I haven’t seen one for months—barring old Thorne, and he’s a parson, and not a man of my kidney. But you may believe I know when I’m being gulled, so don’t play off any cajolery! What brought my grandson and that Greeking fellow to Kellands?”
John met the searching eyes squarely. “I can’t answer you, sir, for I don’t know.”
“Henry didn’t come here out of affection for me, nor Coate to ruralize!”
“Extremely unlikely, I fancy.”
“They’re up to no good. It isn’t debt. No, not that. He’d have told me, if that was all. If there were a warrant out for his arrest, this is the first place where he’d be looked for. Are the pair of them using my house as a shield to cover some piece of filthy knavery?”
“Gently, sir! This is nothing more than conjecture. The truth may prove to be less serious than you fear. Whatever it may be, only harm can come from your vexing yourself like this.”
“Are you telling me you think that pair are here for any honest purpose?” demanded Sir Peter.
“No, I’m not. I think there’s something devilish smoky afoot, and that’s the truth!” John said bluntly. “It’s my intention to discover just what it is. That’s why I’m remaining at that damned toll-house! It has its drawbacks, but it’s not such a bad ambush, you know.”
Sir Peter regarded him intently. “Is the gatekeeper mixed up in it?”
“That again I don’t know, though I suspect he may be. I have some hopes of discovering his whereabouts at least, and if I can find him trust me to find out the rest! Until we know a little more, it seems to me it might not serve our purpose to turn these fellows out of doors. If it should turn out to be a hanging matter, you want it scotched, not exposed.”
“I want my name kept clean!” Sir Peter said.
“I give you my word I will do my utmost to do that, sir,” John said steadily.
“You may find it beyond your power.”
“If I do, it will not be beyond my power to see to it that no slur attaches to you, or to Nell.”
“It’s Nell I’m thinking of. If we’re plunged in scandal——” He broke off, his hand clasping and unclasping.
“Good God, sir, you cannot suppose that it would make the least difference!” exclaimed John. “Are you imagining that I might cry off?”
“No: that she would!” retorted Sir Peter.
“Would she?” said John, a light in his eye. “We’ll see that!”
Sir Peter looked queerly at him, but was silent. After a minute, John got up. “I think I should leave you now, sir. There is no reason why you should trust me: I might be the shabbiest of impostors! But I wish you will be content to leave this mystery to me to solve!”
This drew a slight smile from Sir Peter. “An odd sort of an impostor! Shouldn’t have told you all this if I didn’t trust you.” He held out his hand. “It’s done me good, seeing you. You’ll take care of my girl.”
“You may be very sure of that, sir,” John said, clasping the frail hand warmly.
“Jermyn would have liked you,” said Sir Peter abruptly. “You put me a little in mind of him. He was a big fellow, too. I’m obliged to you for coming here. I shall be seeing you again. Send my man in to me, will you?”
In the dressing-room, John found Nell, talking in a low voice to the valet. She looked up, and smiled, but whispered: “You have been so long with him!”
“I don’t think it has harmed him. I hope it has not. Winkfield, he desired me to send you to him: I’ll let myself out of the house. Goodnight!”
“Good-night, sir, and thank you!”
As the door into the bedchamber closed behind the valet, Nell moved towards John, the half-train of her gown hushing on the floor. He opened his arms to her, and she walked into them, as though she found it natural to be there. “Oh, I was so angry, so very angry!” she murmured.
He put his hand on her head, smoothing the thick locks. “I know you were! Such a look as you cast at me! I thought myself betrothed to a cockatrice!”
“Oh, no!” she protested. “How infamous of you to say so! I was startled—in a flash, I knew that you would not have come if you had not been summoned. Winkfield told me how it was. How sly of Grandpapa! He breathed not a word to me. I was never more embarrassed in my life, for he was watching us so closely. Oh, and you were so good! You talked to him just as you ought. I know he liked you!” She looked up into his face. “What did he say to you, when I had gone away?”
“He gave me permission to pay my addresses to you, my heart, so now I will ask you, most formally, if you will do me the honour of accepting my hand in marriage, ma’am?”
“How absurd you are! What should I say? You must know that I have no experience in these matters, and I should not wish to answer with the least impropriety!”
“You should say, Yes, sir, I will!”
“I am sure I ought to display a little confusion, put on an air of surprise, perhaps trifle with you for a while!”
“Thank God you have no such missish ways! And I must remind you, ma’am, that we met each other earlier in the day!”
She pinched his chin. “What a very unhandsome person you are to remind me of that! It was quite shocking!”
“Exactly so! Unless you wish me to think you an outrageous flirt, you must promise to marry me!”
“John, how do you contrive to laugh with your eyes, while you keep your face so grave?”<
br />
“I don’t know, and you haven’t answered me!”
“Ah, you know I will! But not yet! Not while my grandfather needs me! You must not ask that of me, dearest! I could not leave him!”
“No, I see that you could not. Don’t fear me! I don’t mean to tease you. Kiss me once more, and then I must be off!”
She would have escorted him to the side-entrance, but he would not permit it. They parted at the head of the stairs, he to let himself quietly out of the house, she to retire to her own room, to be alone with her happiness.
Winkfield, looking covertly at his master, as he entered his bedchamber, was satisfied that the Captain’s visit had done him no harm. He had expected to find him very tired, but he saw that he was wide awake, looking fixedly at the fire, and slightly drumming his fingers on his chair-arm. The valet began to remove the quilt from the bed, and to lay out his master’s nightshirt, and his cap. He was startled by Sir Peter’s saying suddenly: “Not yet! Bring me a pen and ink and some paper!”
“Sir?” Winkfield said, blinking at him.
“Don’t pretend you’re deaf! I must write a letter.”
Considerably dismayed, Winkfield said: “It’s very late, sir. Now, won’t you——”
“I know it’s late. The letter must be written at once, if it is to catch the mail. What time does it leave Sheffield for London?”
“At six in the morning, I believe, sir, but—”
“Joseph must ride in to catch it. Tell him!”
The valet almost wrung his hands. “I beg you, sir, don’t ask me to bring you pen and ink at this hour! The doctor particularly desired you not to sit up, and it’s past ten o’clock now!”
“Damn the doctor! And you, too! Do as I bid you!”
“Sir—”
Sir Peter put up his hand and grasped the valet’s arm, shaking it feebly. “Winkfield, old friend, I have no time—no time! Do you want me to sleep peacefully tonight?”
“God knows I do, sir!”
“Then don’t thwart me! I know what I’m about. I’m well, too—very well!”
The valet gave a despairing sigh, and went over to where a court-cupboard stood, and opened it. “You’ll kill yourself, sir,” he said bitterly.
“Very likely. Do you think I care for that? Let me but tie one knot tight, and the sooner this miserable existence ends the better I shall be pleased! I shall see it out: I always do what I mean to, don’t I?”
“Yes, sir—more’s the pity!”
Sir Peter gave a dry chuckle. He waited until a tray had been laid across the arms of his chair, and the standish set upon it. Then he said abruptly: “That was a very different visitor from the other I received last night.”
“Yes, indeed, sir!”
“Cutter-rigged! nothing queer or yawl-like about him! knew his grandfather.”
“You did, sir? It seems a strange thing for him to be keeping the gate, but he’s very much the gentleman, of course.”
Sir Peter dipped the pen in the standish. “Impudent dog! He’s courting Miss Nell!”
“So I have been given to understand, sir.”
Sir Peter shot a look up at him. “It will do, won’t it?”
“I think so, sir. If I may say so, I never saw Miss Nell in such a glow. It quite took me aback, the way she looked at the Captain. Rose will have it he was sent by Providence.”
“Maybe. He comes in the very nick of time, at all events. What’s the name of my attorney? It ain’t Raythorne—he died years ago. Who’s the fellow that succeeded him?”
“Mr. Marshside, sir,” said Winkfield wonderingly.
“Marshside! Ay, that’s it! Hold this damned paper steady for me!”
He began to write, slowly, and with a little difficulty. “When does the mail reach London?”
“I’m told they do the journey in sixteen-and a-half hours now, sir. It should reach the General Post Office at about ten in the evening, though it hardly seems possible.”
“Glad I don’t travel by it!”
“No, sir, very uncomfortable it must be, racing along at such a pace.”
Sir Peter grunted, and dipped his pen in the ink again. By the time he had scrawled his signature at the foot of the single sheet, he was a good deal exhausted, and his hand was shaking. Winkfield took the pen from between his fingers. “There, sir, you don’t need to do any more. I’ll seal it up, and direct it for you.”
“Marshside—somewhere in Lincoln’s Inn Fields,” Sir Peter muttered.
“Yes, sir, I know.”
“It must catch the mail!”
“I promise it shall, sir.”
Sir Peter seemed satisfied, and said no more. He let Winkfield do what he wished with him. Only when his head lay on the pillow did he revive a little, and open his eyes. They were surprisingly bright, even rather impish. “I can still keep my horses well together!” he said. “I’ll show you!”
Chapter 10
CAPTAIN STAPLE found no one stirring in the stables, when he left the house, and was soon trotting down the road towards the toll-gate. The light was dim, gathering clouds obscuring the moon, and a little chill wind was bringing a few leaves fluttering down from the trees. He encountered nobody on the road, and in a few minutes saw ahead of him the yellow glow of the storm-lantern hanging on the gate. He dismounted when he reached it, and, before opening the gate, trimmed the lamp, which was flaring too high. Having done this to his satisfaction, he turned, and went to pull back the gate a little way, to enable Beau to pass. As he set his hand on it, the fitful wind blew towards him the unmistakable smell of burning tobacco. Faint though it was, his nostrils caught it, and while he pretended to be fumbling for the fastening on the gate, keeping his head bent, his eyes searched the shadows cast by the overgrown hedge which flanked the road, beyond a rough grass verge and a ditch. Almost immediately he saw the tiny thread of smoke, creeping upward from the faintest red glow just discernible in the long grass not six feet from where he stood. Someone had knocked out a pipe within the last few minutes, and the dottle was still smouldering.
The Captain flicked over the staple that held the gate to the side-post, and stepped back a few paces, pulling the gate with one hand, and with the other, holding Beau’s bridle, imperceptibly maneuvering that sagacious animal into presenting his haunch instead of his head to the opening. Beau, who knew very well that his stable lay beyond the gate, snorted, and threw up his head, as though he were jibbing (which indeed he was), and the Captain backed him a little, saying soothingly: “Steady, now, you old fool! What’s the matter with you? Come along! You know a gate when you see one!
Beau certainly knew a gate when he saw one, and would have passed through the narrow opening without the smallest hesitation had his master permitted him to do so. But the hand on his bridle was acting in direct contradiction to the voice, and was forcing him back. Fretted, he tried to jerk his head away, presenting all the appearance of a horse unwilling to approach an obstacle. Meanwhile, the Captain, still talking gently to him, was rapidly scanning the hedge. It was difficult to see more than its ragged outline, but a rift in the clouds disclosed the moon for a few seconds, and in the faint lightening of the scene he thought he could detect a movement in the shadows, as though a man, crouching in the ditch, had shifted his position slightly.
Beau found that the extremely irksome hand on his bridle had relaxed its pressure, and at once stepped forward.
“That’s more like it!” said the Captain encouragingly, and led him through the aperture. He fastened the gate again, and walked past the toll-house, and down the road, to where, fifty yards away, a white farm-gate gave access to the big meadow at the top end of which was situated the barn that stabled Beau. Opening it, he turned Beau into the meadow, and pulled the gate shut with a clap behind him. Then he strode back to the toll-house, along the grass verge, keeping in the shadow of the hedge, and treading noiselessly over the soft ground. There he took up a position, just round the corner of the house from the road, and wait
ed.
He had not long to wait. In a minute or two the wicket gate creaked, and an unhurried footstep sounded. Heavy cloud again hid the moon, but there was light enough to see, when the footsteps drew abreast of John, that the figure which passed was that of a stocky man of medium height.
“Waiting for me?”
These pleasantly spoken words made the stocky man stop, and wheel about, grasping the thick stick he carried. Before he had time to raise it (if such had been his intention), he found himself enveloped in an unloving embrace from which it was quite impossible to escape. He seemed to realize this, for he stood perfectly still, merely saying in a mildly expostulatory tone: “Lor’ bless you, big ’un, you don’t have to squeeze the puff out of me!”
“It’s you, is it?” said John, removing the stick from his grasp, and casting it aside. “I thought it might be! Let me tell you, Mr. Stogumber, that it is unwise to smoke your pipe when lying in ambush!”
“So that’s how you boned me!” said Mr. Stogumber, apparently pleased to have this point explained. “A very leery cove, ain’t you?”
“No, but I don’t care to be spied upon!” said John.
“Spied upon! What, me?” said Stogumber, in astonished accents. “Seems to me as it’s you as laid in wait for me, Mr. Staple! I wasn’t meaning no harm! I didn’t jump out on you sudden enough to give anyone a spasm! All I done was to come out to stretch my legs. What’s put you in such a pelt?”
“Were you stretching your legs in the ditch?” asked the Captain sardonically.
“I won’t try to slumguzzle you, big ’un,” responded Stogumber. “I wasn’t. But this being a very lonely road, d’ye see, and me a peaceable man, I didn’t want to run into no trouble. How was I to know you wasn’t a bridle-cull?”
“You knew well enough who I was when you heard me speak to my horse! Why didn’t you show yourself then?”
“What, and have you laughing at me for being cow-hearted, which I won’t deny I am—very!”
“Coming it too strong!” said John. “What kind of a flat do you take me for, to be flammed by such gammon as that?”
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