Storm Music (1934)

by Dornford Yates

  Helena and Geoffrey stopped talking as I approached.

  "You've hurt your leg," I said slowly. "My handkerchief's too far gone, but this will serve as a sponge." I stooped to lay the fern by her side. "I hope it doesn't hurt very much."

  "Thanks awfully," said Helena, quickly. "No, it hurt when it happened. But now it doesn't hurt any more."

  I turned and made for the road, while my cousin followed behind . . .

  As I reached the stretch of macadam :

  "There's nothing for it," said Geoffrey. "We shall all have to sleep at Yorick, because of this wilful girl. Perhaps she'll see reason tomorrow. How the devil can she lie out all night? She's all in now."

  "She can't, of course," said I. "But what's that to do with us?"

  "Only this," said my cousin. "That she won't sleep at Yorick unless we do. Her very words."

  Although I made no answer, I there and then determined that, now that Pharaoh was gone, nothing— not even violence— should bring me within those walls. Yorick for me was a grave-yard. The thought of its hospitality seemed to tear something inside me— some vital that had no feeling an hour ago.

  We strolled the road in silence, from time to time turning about.

  After a while my cousin pushed back his hat.

  "As a child," he said, "I never liked blind man's buff. And when it was mixed blind man's buff— boys and girls, I mean— I liked it less. That dislike I have never lost ..." He put his hands to his head. "I'd give a Hell of a lot to know where Pharaoh is."

  I LOOKED at him sharply. The last few words he had spoken half to himself, but his tone was the tone of a man who is worried to death. Because I was fond of Geoffrey, the instinct to share his trouble lifted its head, and in that moment my apathy fell away.

  Pharaoh. Yes, where was Pharaoh? And what would Pharaoh do?

  As I asked myself these questions my newly awakened interest leapt into life, my darkness was suddenly lightened and I saw that here to my hand was the very distraction I needed to drive my distemper away. The location and destruction of Pharaoh and Pharaoh's men.

  No longer mutinous, my thoughts fell upon the conception, tooth and nail. They gorged themselves upon it. like so many beasts. Action— violent, revengeful action was the antidote nonpareil to the poison which I had drunk. And I was free to take action ... Yorick and its treasure be damned — I had my own quarrel with Pharoah. Ten days ago he had murdered a fellow man. I had sworn to bring him to justice, and so I would. More— a hundred times more. My duty to Helena was over. The yoke that had cumbered my efforts was off my neck.

  I had no doubt at all that Pharaoh meant to attack.

  The position was formidable, for Yorick was up in arms. But what were its walls and sentries, when more than a million sovereigns were lying within? And since finesse had failed, Pharaoh was going to do what Pharaoh had done before. He was going to commit burglary. Once within the castle, a gang of four such men could have its own way. What were footmen, and grooms and porters? Only troops could cope with the violence which these felons were ready to offer to gain their ends. Three or four writhing servants, and the Countess must open her cellar and bid them take what they would. Who knew better than Pharaoh that ruthlessness pays?

  I remembered that Helena had told me that when she went to Salzburg she carried a thousand sovereigns. That these were contained in two boxes. That each of these weighed nine pounds. Allowing for the weight of the boxes. I reckoned that the Rolls could carry at least fifty thousand sovereigns in canvas bags. And fifty thousand sovereigns would mean seventy thousand pounds . . .

  The calculation bore fruit.

  Before I had finished my sum I knew where Pharaoh would be. And that was as close to the castle as he could bring the Rolls.

  A moment's reflection assured me that Pharaoh would make no use of the entrance drive. That was too dangerous. From what Helena had told me, I knew that no tracks led from it and that nowhere could a car leave it because of the well-kept ditches on either side. But the Rolls must be berthed out of sight until her moment arrived . . .

  I was ready to wager a fortune that the Rolls was now standing in Starlight— the lovely coppice less than two miles from Yorick, the coppice whose branches leaned over the grey highroad. A blind track straggled into Starlight— a curling, grass-grown ribbon that lost itself and its meaning in less than a hundred yards. I knew. I had used it myself. There the Rolls had rested while Helena and I sat side by side in silence, waiting in vain for the drone of the enemy's car. And now she was there again. And where the Rolls was was Pharaoh. Her way was his line of advance, and his line of retreat. The thing stood out. In the woods between Starlight and Yorick— somewhere there Pharoah would be.

  I began to wonder how Pharaoh would enter the castle. If Rush could reach a postern ... But how could they cross the bridge?

  Here, with a shock of dismay, I remembered that I was unarmed. For a moment my hopes seemed dust. Then I saw that this was a matter in which I must use my wits. My cousin would arm me, if I could show him good cause. This should not be difficult. I was so simple a fool that he could never doubt my good faith. I began to think how to deceive him.

  "This home-coming stunt," I said. "Won't Pharaoh be there to receive us —at the mouth of the entrance drive?"

  "As like as not." said my cousin. "The only thing is that unless he heard or saw Lady Helena leave the castle, he'll never imagine that either of you is outside. So he won't be ready. But we'll have to go by all out. All the same, I'm damned uneasy. I can sympathise with detectives who are answerable for the safety of Royalty. And I know very well what they'd do. They'd take her straight to Salzburg and put a guard on her room." He gave his head to the air. "I'm tempted to go by Plumage; but, to tell you the truth, I'm afraid to get out of the car. If we meet the fellow on foot, we're damned well done. Will you go with her in her car?"

  "No," said I "I won't. I'll follow with Barley behind."

  "All right," said Geoffrey, "all right. But Barley's the better shot, so you'd better drive."

  I thought before replying.

  "Incidentally," I said, "I haven't a pistol to fire— or any sort of weapon, for the matter of that."

  "You won't need one, if you are driving."

  "I'd rather have something," said I "I've been caught bending once through being unarmed."

  "Perhaps you're right," said Geoffrey. He put his hand to his side and unfastened a hunting knife. "Knives seem to be your portion, but, except my pistol. I haven't anything else."

  The blade was sheathed, and I slid the knife into my pocket without a word.

  "And allow me to add," said my cousin, "that I am immensely relieved to see you showing some signs of taking thought for yourself. I take off my hat to valour; but to valour, plus discretion. I go on my knees."

  I suppose my heart should have smote me. Instead, I fear it was leaping— to see how well the fool was playing the knave.

  And at that moment we heard the drone of a car.

  Two minutes later Barley drew up beside us in a smother of dust.

  "O.K.?" said Geoffrey shortly.

  "Every time, sir." said Barley. "It couldn't have gone more easy if you'd been there. The old fathers, they wasn't half pleased. His lordship come to his senses as we was gettin' him out, but I don't think he cared what happened— his head was too bad. An' when he saw the monks an' the gateway, I think he thought he was dead. Anyway, he shut his eyes tight and started in on Latin for all he was worth. I gave them your note and I showed them the 'punctured wound.' I'd made it with my trousers buckle, same as you said. That was good enough for them. Four of them carried him off, an' two of the others rushed off to heat the irons. I only 'ope they don't take his leg off, that's all."

  My cousin strove to steady his voice. "Hush." he said. "Her ladyship knows quite enough."

  I turned then to see Helena approaching.

  "All's well." said Geoffrey. "Your brother is safely bestowed, if not in Abraham's bosom, at l
east in the arms of the Church. And now shall we be going? I don't want to get in too early, but, if we can find a nice inn, I think we'd all be the better for breaking bread, don't you?"

  Helena nodded.

  "I'll sit with Barley." she said "I've got to try and show him the way to my car."

  Ten minutes later we sighted a good-looking coupe, tucked under a rock that looked like a leaning pulpit, by the side of a fall.

  As Barley slowed down—

  "And now," said Helena.

  "May I come with you?" said my cousin. "I'd like you to drive if you will."

  "Very well. But Barley must lead. I don't know the way."

  This was not at all to my liking, but happily Geoffrey stepped in.

  "Barley shall lead," he said, "till we've eaten and drunk. After that, I'd like to go first. Please do as I say."

  Helena hesitated. Then—

  "All right," she said abruptly, and left the car.

  Her manner made me uneasy. There seemed no doubt that she wanted to have me in view. But all that Geoffrey could see was that, if we were to pass Pharaoh, the car that was leading was more likely to pass him unscathed.

  After some fourteen miles we stopped at a wayside inn. The fare was rough and all the appointments most rude: but I think we were all four thankful to break our fast. Though they did not know it, I was a good deal more thankful than anyone else: the others would find plenty at Yorick, but Heaven only knew when and where I should eat again.

  No more was said of the order the cars should take, and when our meal was over the coupe was under way before I had taken my seat.

  Quick as a flash—

  "You'll have to drive, Barley," I said. "You haven't heard, but Dewdrop struck me last night. I think he's found a muscle or something. I'm stiff as hell."

  "Very good, sir," said Barley, and took the wheel.

  A mile or two later:

  "Where's your pistol?" I said. "I don't anticipate trouble, but now that you're driving, I'd better have it in case. I suppose you can guess who's got mine."

  As Barley surrendered the weapon: "Her ladyship did tell me something. Fancy Dewdrop stabbin' you, though. They have got a nerve, those swine. I'd like to be be'ind him with a knife. Sit down? He wouldn't have no call to sit down, nor anything else. Five foot of clay'd be all he'd 'ave any use for."

  I let him breathe out his threatenings and gave my mind to the problem I had to solve.

  I was now well armed; but rack my brains as I would, I could think of no way in which I could give Barley the slip.

  The position was this. I wished to alight as close as I could to Yorick, yet not at the castle gate. Some spot in the entrance drive would have suited my purpose well. It had been arranged, however, that the last three miles should be covered as fast as ever they could. Unless, therefore, I left the car before we approached the mouth of the entrance drive, I should have to wait until we had crossed the drawbridge, and that would be the end of my effort, for I should be seen retreating and Geoffrey and Barley would follow and spoil my game. I could make some excuse to alight a moment before we entered the danger zone, but in view of what had happened that morning, Barley would never go on until I re-entered the car, and the others would notice our absence and then the fat would be burnt. It looked as though I should have to enter the castle and leave by some window or other as Pharaoh had done. But then there was always the drawbridge, flooded with light. . . .

  I felt a sudden fury at being used as a child. Even Barley would not take my orders. And the moment we gained the castle, the porters no doubt would be told that I was not to go forth. Here was pretty treatment for the man whom the Countess Helena of Yorick had elected to honour ... I perceived that I had escaped an ignominious existence. I had been allotted the role of Lord Consort— a favoured gentleman-in-waiting, the basin of the fountain of honour, very strictly preserved ... Happening to glance at the mirror— the car was closed— I noticed the great Alsatian couched on the hinder seat. It occurred to me that the dog was there to watch me. The excuse had been that there was not room in the coupe — which was absurd. The coupe would have held four. My decision to cheat this surveillance hardened into a stony and vicious resolve.

  One thing was in my favour— dusk had come in. And since Helena was not hastening, night would have fallen by the time we came to the drive. So my cousin had ordered, for though I think we all knew that the risk of encountering Pharaoh was very slight, it was Helena's presence that hoisted the flag of peril and made it essential that we should omit no endeavour to keep her person safe.

  Again, it would have been worse to have been in the leading car. The net might have been drawn rather tighter— but that was all. My chances seemed desperately thin.

  At last, a mile from the entrance drive, the tail-light bore to the right and the coupe slowed down and stopped by the side of the way.

  At once we did the same— and, somehow or other, I felt that my chance had come.

  "I'll see what they want," I said, and slipped out of the car.

  As I came to the door of the coupe: "Look here, my son," said Geoffrey, "Lady Helena wants you to lead." My eyes were burning, and I lowered my gaze to the road. "I don't think it really matters, and so I have given way. From now on put down your foot and don't take it up again till you're over the bridge."

  "Whatever happens." said Helena. My blood was boiling.

  "Is that an order?" I said.

  "You gave it that name," said Geoffrey. "But we're going to do the same."

  "All right," I said. "I don't care." I made my way back to Barley and opened my door.

  "I've got to leave you," I said. "They want me to ride with them. You're to go first now and to drive like hell. Don't lift your foot till you get to the castle gate. You'll be keeping them back as it is, for the coupe's the faster car."

  "Very good, sir," said Barley.

  I slammed the door and stood back and he let in his clutch.

  As the car leapt forward, I fell on my face in the road.

  I watched him pass the coupe— and, a moment later, the coupe draw into his wake.

  In a savage triumph I watched its tail-light diminish. Then the road bent round to the left and it flicked out of sight.

  MY six-mile walk to Starlight did me a world of good. It seemed to limber my muscles and steady my wits; the darkness secured me, the cool night air refreshed me, the silence rested my mind. Though I wasted no time, I did not hasten unduly, for, for one thing, it seemed as well to conserve my strength and, for another, I wanted to use my ears. As luck would have it, a quilt of cloud had risen to mask the moon, so I walked in the midst of the road with nothing to fear.

  My sole concern was Sabre.

  I was sure that no car would come back— when convicts escape, they cannot be rounded up with the prison van. I was equally sure that my cousin would never permit the Countess to take part in any search; but if he and Barley came out with Sabre in leash, and if they set the dog free at the mouth of the entrance drive—well, once that day he had found me on far more difficult ground: and that with no scent to help him. Besides, my way led past the mouth of the entrance drive ...

  The place seemed destined to be the very covert of Fear.

  A furlong before I reached it I was careful to leave the road and to make my way through the woods for the next half-mile.

  I believe it was that that saved me, for, as I shall presently show, half an hour later Geoffrey and Barley and Sabre in fact came down to that sinister three-way spot.

  Be that as it may, for my six miles I had the world to myself and by the time they were past, my senses were tuned to what is called concert pitch. I have always seen well in the dark, but that night I could see as though my eyes were alight. I could separate all the scents with which the country was stuffed. Not the slightest sound could escape my vigilant ears, and as I stepped out of the roadway and into the track I heard the Alsatian coming a minute before he arrived.

  For a moment my
heart stood still, and then I saw that if Helena was not with them I ought to be able to charm him from his duty to Geoffrey into a service he knew.

  He found me seated a little way up the track.

  In a flash I had him by the collar and had flung an arm round his neck.

  "Sabre," I breathed, "Sabre, don't let me down. Stay with me, Sabre. I'll be so glad to have you. I'm on a good thing, Sabre. And you can help me, old fellow, to pull it off."

  And other nonsense I whispered, in my frenzy to cheat pursuit.

  The great dog nosed my temples, moving his tail. For a moment he seemed uncertain, turning his head to look back the way he had come. Then he lay down by my side and rested his head on my thigh.

  I made much of him, naturally.

  Sabre had crossed the floor.

  So we stayed for five minutes. Then, with my hand on his collar, I got to my feet.

  I AM sure the dog knew that the business on which I was bent was perilous stuff. From that time on no man could have been more sagacious, more swift to make report, more scrupulous to obey. And, well as I saw, his sight was better than mine, for he saw the Rolls before I did, and checked me by standing still.

  The car had been backed up the track and so stood ready to leave. No one at all was with her. Her radiator was cold.

  For a moment I hesitated, wondering whether or no to make some disconnection and so disable the car. And then I decided against this. The outlook was too uncertain: before now I had wanted a car, and wanted it quick. I took my knife from its sheath and turned to the delicate business of running my quarry down.

  And here for the first time I saw that Sabre alone was going to save my venture from becoming as abject a failure as ever was seen.

  I had set out to prove the country which lay between the castle and where I stood. I wished to make for the meadows from which the castle rose. But already I had lost my bearings. I had only the faintest idea in which direction to move. I had never set foot on the ground which I was to search and knew no more what to expect than the man in the moon. And the night was almost dark.