Dead Men Tell No Tales

by E. W. Hornung

  CHAPTER XII. MY LADY'S BIDDING

  Scribbled in sore haste, by a very tremulous little hand, with a pencil,on the flyleaf of some book, my darling's message is still difficult toread; it was doubly so in the moonlight, five-and-forty autumns ago. Myeyesight, however, was then perhaps the soundest thing about me, and ina little I had deciphered enough to guess correctly (as it proved) atthe whole:--

  "You say you heard everything just now, and there is no time for furtherexplanations. I am in the hands of villains, but not ill-treated, thoughthey are one as bad as the other. You will not find it easy to rescueme. I don't see how it is to be done. You have promised not to doanything I ask you not to do, and I implore you not to tell a soul untilyou have seen me again and heard more. You might just as well kill me ascome back now with help.

  "You see you know nothing, though I told them you knew all. And so youshall as soon as I can see you for five minutes face to face. In themeantime do nothing--know nothing when you see Mr. Rattray--unless youwish to be my death.

  "It would have been possible last night, and it may be again to-morrownight. They all go out every night when they can, except Jose, who isleft in charge. They are out from nine or ten till two or three; if theyare out to-morrow night my candle will be close to the window as I shallput it when I have finished this. You can see my window from over thewall. If the light is in front you must climb the wall, for they willleave the gate locked. I shall see you and will bribe Jose to let meout for a turn. He has done it before for a bottle of wine. I can managehim. Can I trust to you? If you break your promise--but you will not?One of them would as soon kill me as smoke a cigarette, and the rest areunder his thumb. I dare not write more. But my life is in your hands.

  "EVA DENISON."

  "Oh! beware of the woman Braithwaite; she is about the worst of thegang."

  I could have burst out crying in my bitter discomfiture, mortification,and alarm: to think that her life was in my hands, and that it depended,not on that prompt action which was the one course I had contemplated,but on twenty-four hours of resolute inactivity! I would not think it.I refused the condition. It took away my one prop, my one stay, thatprospect of immediate measures which alone preserved in me such coolnessas I had retained until now. I was cool no longer; where I had reliedon practical direction I was baffled and hindered and driven mad; on myhonor believe I was little less for some moments, groaning, cursing,and beating the air with impotent fists--in one of them my poor love'sletter crushed already to a ball.

  Danger and difficulty I had been prepared to face; but the task that Iwas set was a hundred-fold harder than any that had whirled through myteeming brain. To sit still; to do nothing; to pretend I knew nothing;an hour of it would destroy my reason--and I was invited to waittwenty-four!

  No; my word was passed; keep it I must. She knew the men, she must knowbest; and her life depended on my obedience: she made that so plain.Obey I must and would; to make a start, I tottered over the plank thatspanned the beck, and soon I saw the cottage against the moonlit sky.I came up to it. I drew back in sudden fear. It was alight upstairs anddown, and the gaunt strong figure of the woman Braithwaite stood outas I had seen it first, in the doorway, with the light showing warmlythrough her rank red hair.

  "Is that you, Mr. Cole?" she cried in a tone that she reserved for me;yet through the forced amiability there rang a note of genuine surprise.She had been prepared for me never to return at all!

  My knees gave under me as I forced myself to advance; but my wits tooknew life from the crisis, and in a flash I saw how to turn my weaknessinto account. I made a false step on my way to the door; when I reachedit I leant heavily against the jam, and I said with a slur that I feltunwell. I had certainly been flushed with wine when I left Rattray; itwould be no bad thing for him to hear that I had arrived quite tipsy atthe cottage; should he discover I had been near an hour on the way, herewas my explanation cut and dried.

  So I shammed a degree of intoxication with apparent success, and JaneBraithwaite gave me her arm up the stairs. My God, how strong it was,and how weak was mine!

  Left to myself, I reeled about my bedroom, pretending to undress; thenout with my candles, and into bed in all my clothes, until the cottageshould be quiet. Yes, I must lie still and feign sleep, with every nerveand fibre leaping within me, lest the she-devil below should suspectme of suspicions! It was with her I had to cope for the nextfour-and-twenty hours; and she filled me with a greater present terrorthan all those villains at the hall; for had not their poor littlehelpless captive described her as "about the worst of the gang?"

  To think that my love lay helpless there in the hands of those wretches;and to think that her lover lay helpless here in the supervision of thisvile virago!

  It must have been one or two in the morning when I stole to mysitting-room window, opened it, and sat down to think steadily, with thecounterpane about my shoulders.

  The moon sailed high and almost full above the clouds; these weredispersing as the night wore on, and such as remained were of abeautiful soft tint between white and gray. The sky was too light forstars, and beneath it the open country stretched so clear and far thatit was as though one looked out at noonday through slate-colored glass.Down the dewy slope below my window a few calves fed with toothlessmouthings; the beck was very audible, the oak-trees less so; but forthese peaceful sounds the stillness and the solitude were equallyintense.

  I may have sat there like a mouse for half an hour. The reason was thatI had become mercifully engrossed in one of the subsidiary problems:whether it would be better to drop from the window or to trust to thecreaking stairs. Would the creaking be much worse than the thud, andthe difference worth the risk of a sprained ankle? Well worth it, I atlength decided; the risk was nothing; my window was scarce a dozen feetfrom the ground. How easily it could be done, how quickly, how safely inthis deep, stillness and bright moonlight! I would fall so lightly onmy stocking soles; a single soft, dull thud; then away under the moonwithout fear or risk of a false step; away over the stone walls to themain road, and so to the nearest police-station with my tale; and beforesunrise the villains would be taken in their beds, and my darling wouldbe safe!

  I sprang up softly. Why not do it now? Was I bound to keep my rash,blind promise? Was it possible these murderers would murder her?I struck a match on my trousers, I lit a candle, I read her lettercarefully again, and again it maddened and distracted me. I struck myhands together. I paced the room wildly. Caution deserted me, and I madenoise enough to wake the very mute; lost to every consideration but thatof the terrifying day before me, the day of silence and of inactivity,that I must live through with an unsuspecting face, a cool head, a civiltongue! The prospect appalled me as nothing else could or did; nay, thesudden noise upon the stairs, the knock at my door, and the sense thatI had betrayed myself already even now all was over--these came as arelief after the haunting terror which they interrupted.

  I flung the door open, and there stood Mrs. Braithwaite, as fullydressed as myself.

  "You'll not be very well sir?"

  "No, I'm not."

  "What's t' matter wi' you?"

  This second question was rude and fierce with suspicion: the real womanrang out in it, yet its effect on me was astonishing: once again was Iinspired to turn my slip into a move.

  "Matter?" I cried. "Can't you see what's the matter; couldn't you seewhen I came in? Drink's the matter! I came in drunk, and now I'm mad. Ican't stand it; I'm not in a fit state. Do you know nothng of me? Havethey told you nothing? I'm the only man that was saved from the LadyJermyn, the ship that was burned to the water's edge with every soul butme. My nerves are in little ends. I came down here for peace and quietand sleep. Do you know that I have hardly slept for two months? And nowI shall never sleep again! O my God I shall die for want of it! The winehas done it. I never should have touched a drop. I can't stand it; Ican't sleep after it; I shall kill myself if I get no sleep. Do youhear, you woman? I shall kill myself in your house if I d
on't get tosleep!"

  I saw her shrink, virago as she was. I waved my arms, I shrieked inher face. It was not all acting. Heaven knows how true it was about thesleep. I was slowly dying of insomnia. I was a nervous wreck. She musthave heard it. Now she saw it for herself.

  No; it was by no means all acting. Intending only to lie, I foundmyself telling little but the strictest truth, and longing for sleep aspassionately as though I had nothing to keep me awake. And yet, while myheart cried aloud in spite of me, and my nerves relieved themselves inthis unpremeditated ebullition, I was all the time watching its effectas closely as though no word of it had been sincere.

  Mrs. Braithwaite seemed frightened; not at all pitiful; and as I calmeddown she recovered her courage and became insolent. I had spoilt hernight. She had not been told she was to take in a raving lunatic. Shewould speak to Squire Rattray in the morning.

  "Morning?" I yelled after her as she went. "Send your husband to thenearest chemist as soon as it's dawn; send him for chloral, chloroform,morphia, anything they've got and as much of it as they'll let him have.I'll give you five pounds if you get me what'll send me to sleep allto-morrow--and to-morrow night!"

  Never, I feel sure, were truth and falsehood more craftily interwoven;yet I had thought of none of it until the woman was at my door, while ofmuch I had not thought at all. It had rushed from my heart and from mylips. And no sooner was I alone than I burst into hysterical tears, onlyto stop and compliment myself because they sounded genuine--as thoughthey were not! Towards morning I took to my bed in a burning fever, andlay there, now congratulating myself upon it, because when night camethey would all think me so secure; and now weeping because the nightmight find me dying or dead. So I tossed, with her note clasped in myhand underneath the sheets; and beneath my very body that stout weaponthat I had bought in town. I might not have to use it, but I wasfatalist enough to fancy that I should. In the meantime it helped me tolie still, my thoughts fixed on the night, and the day made easy for meafter all.

  If only I could sleep!

  About nine o'clock Jane Braithwaite paid me a surly visit; in half anhour she was back with tea and toast and an altered mien. She not onlylit my fire, but treated me the while to her original tone of almostfervent civility and respect and determination. Her vagaries soon ceasedto puzzle me: the psychology of Jane Braithwaite was not recondite. Inthe night it had dawned upon her that Rattray had found me harmless andwas done with me, therefore there was no need for her to put herself outany further on my account. In the morning, finding me really ill, shehad gone to the hall in alarm; her subsequent attentions were an act ofobedience; and in their midst came Rattray himself to my bedside.