Billy Barcroft, R.N.A.S.: A Story of the Great War

by Percy F. Westerman

  CHAPTER XX

  INVESTIGATIONS

  "To come straight to the point, my dear Entwistle," said PeterBarcroft. "I may say that I have two reasons for looking you up. Thefirst is purely a matter of form--to inquire after your injuredankle. Judging by the way in which you crossed the room I think I amright in concluding that your recovery has been rapid and, I hope,permanent. No, don't limp, old man. That won't do. The second is tomake inquiries respecting a donkey--to wit, one Butterfly."

  "Oh!" remarked Entwistle. "Anything wrong? What are the symptoms?"

  "A bad form of absentitis," replied Peter grimly. "Don't you know?"

  The vet shook his head.

  "Continue," he said, as he handed his tobacco-pouch to his caller.

  "The brute never came back. In his hurry my son forgot to mentionit--he was recalled by wire, and the young bounder never evendropped me a postcard. Now I'm on Butterfly's track. Can you assistme in my quest?"

  "Sorry," replied Entwistle, taking the pouch and deliberatelyfilling his briar. "Stay. I did mention to Billy that the animalought to be shod. Why not inquire of the various blacksmiths on theway to Tarleigh? Let me see: there's Schofield's in Cook Street,Barnes's in Forge Lane, and Thomas's in Dyke Street--they are alljust off Chumley Old Road. How did you come into Barborough--bytrain?"

  "No, I walked as far as the tram terminus," replied Barcroft Senior.

  "If you like I'll run you back in my car," suggested the vet. "We'lllook the blacksmiths up on our way. Any news of your friend Norton?"

  "Not a sign or a word."

  "H'm!"

  Entwistle shrugged his shoulders. Peter looked at him keenly.

  "Why that 'h'm'?" he asked.

  "Only--by the bye, have the police been informed?"

  Barcroft shook his head.

  "Not by me," he replied. "I'm inclined to think that he'll turn upagain in a day or two. It may be a form of eccentricity encouragedby the excitement of the raid."

  "Yes," agreed the vet. "Three days ago. Yes, it is quite about timehe put in an appearance. Well, excuse me a moment. I'll tell Jarvisto bring the car round."

  "Sure I'm not putting you out?" asked Peter.

  "On the contrary--delighted. As a matter of fact, I have to see ahorse belonging to a farmer over Windyhill way, so it will bekilling two birds with one stone. Now for this bad case ofabsentitis."

  Inquiries at two blacksmiths were without satisfactory result. Thethird, who happened to be the man who had shod the refractoryButterfly, could only state that the last he saw of the animal wasthat it was scampering along Jumbles Lane, and that the trap stillremained in a shed in his yard.

  "Th' oughtn't ta' be much trouble to trace yon animal," concludedthe smith. "A champion she were-a right down champion, mark you.They may clip her coat or dock her tail or change her colour, but'tis her size as they can't alter. Meantimes I'll keep a look-out,master, and if I hears aught----"

  "Going to report the matter to the police?" asked Entwistle, as thepair re-entered the car.

  "I think not," replied Peter. "It might end in the representative ofthe law running in every itinerant donkey owner on sight. I thinkI'll enlist the services of the Press to the tune of aneighteenpenny advertisement."

  Outside the newspaper offices a crowd had collected to read thelatest bulletin:

  "Destroyer Action in the North Sea. German torpedo-boats destroyed.British Naval Airmen rescued from sinking enemy craft."

  Making his way through the throng Peter entered the office, gave inhis advertisement and bought a paper.

  "That's great!" he ejaculated as he read the brief report. "Billy'spals, Fuller and Kirkwood, saved by one of our destroyers. By Jove,Entwistle, who says that the British Navy is sitting tight inharbour? Whenever there's an opportunity our lads in navy blue areon it."

  "Then why the deuce confine the facts to a few bald lines?" askedthe vet. "The job's done properly, and a stirring story it wouldmake! Something to buck up people at home. Instead, you have to relyupon your imagination, which is apt to let you down."

  "Give it up," said Peter the optimist. "All I know is that we aretop dog, and everything will pan out all right in the end."

  "Granted," agreed Entwistle. "The Navy's all right; the New Army issplendid--we'll muddle through somehow, in spite of the miserablelegacy of the Wait and See crowd. There's a hymn beginning 'A peoplewho in darkness sat.' That sums up the whole state of the civilpopulation of Great Britain. To my mind the nation resembles a massof iron filings spread out on a sheet of paper--all sixes andsevens. A magnet will instantly cause those particular pieces ofmetal to fly into orderly formation following the lines of magneticforce: a Man will be able to do the same with the nation, only,unfortunately, we haven't yet found the Man. We as Britons trust toomuch to chance--to a sort of voluntary organisation of labour.Result, every man is asking why some one else doesn't do his bit andtries to persuade himself that he is a sort of indispensablehimself, I shouldn't be surprised if the war ends in a patched-uppeace."

  "No fear," asserted Barcroft firmly--so emphatically that Entwistlealmost relaxed his grip upon the steering wheel and narrowly avoidedcollision with a brewer's dray. "There'll be nothing of the sort.The men who are now fighting mean to see the business through andnot leave the horrors of war to be repeated with triple violence asa legacy to their children and their children's children. It's gotto be done--and done it will be, even if it takes another twoyears."

  When in due course the car arrived at the narrow lane leading toLadybird Fold, Entwistle, somewhat to his companion's astonishment,insisted upon driving right up to the house.

  "No hurry," commented the vet. "I like taking a car along a trickypath. Hullo! there are your dogs, Barcroft. They seem to know thatI'm something in the animal line, and wish to be run over in orderto give me a job."

  The car came to a standstill at the house. Peter descended, to beoverwhelmed with the noisy and frantic attentions of Ponto and Nan.

  "Come in," he said, "May as well have tea with us."

  "Thanks, I will," replied Entwistle; then pointing in the directionof "The Croft," the tiled roof of which was just visible above theridge of a hill, "Is that where Norton hangs out? I've heard of theplace. What sort of a show is it?"

  "Come and see for yourself," said Barcroft. "There'll be time for astroll before tea. I have the key, thanks to the magnificentcondescension of Mrs. What's-her-name, Norton's generalissimo anddomestic help. Why are you anxious to see the place? Thinking ofrenting it and being my nearest neighbour if Norton fails toreturn?"

  "Perhaps," laughed Philip Entwistle. "When I retire, and I cannotsee myself doing that yet."

  "I wouldn't," said Peter gravely. "Retirement is a rotten state fora professional man to enter into. Sudden dislocation of his routine,nothing to occupy his mind--result, he generally pegs out in acouple of years. I've noticed it scores of times."

  "It's all very well for you literary fellows to talk," protestedEntwistle. "You can never complain of overwork."

  "There you are mistaken," said Barcroft. "I admit I slack off alittle now, but at one time I dare not. It may seem easy for afellow to knock off a couple of thousand words a day, but try it fora year and see how it feels. Remember, it isn't the actual work ofputting pen to paper. One has to think, and think jolly hard. Do youremember some years ago a man tried to cover a thousand miles in athousand consecutive hours? One mile an hour day and night. Doesn'tseem much, but imagine what it means."

  "You seem to have done pretty well out of it," remarked Entwistle.

  "It took some doing," confessed Peter. "I can recall a certainChristmas Eve when, with two other congenial spirits, I sat in afireless attic in Town. We were literally on our beam ends--toojolly proud to sample the fatted calf that awaited us in ourrespective parents' homes. I think we had sevenpence halfpennybetween us."

  "Sounds cheerful."

  "Precisely. However, being fresh-air fiends even in those days, wehad left the window open----" />
  "And some philanthrophic soul threw in a big parcel of provender?"

  "Into the attic window of a six-storeyed house? Hardly. No; a pigeonflew in. It never flew out again, for in less than twenty minutes itwas roasting in front of the landlady's kitchen fire. That sameevening one of my companions in distress received an unexpectedguinea for a pot-boiler, and there was no longer famine in theland."

  The two men had now climbed the hill and were outside the front doorof The Croft. The house was considerably smaller than Ladybird Fold,although built on the same principle. At one time it had been a farmhouse, but most of the outbuildings had been removed. Standing onhigher ground it commanded even a more extensive outlook than thatenjoyed by the Barcrofts; in fact, almost the whole of Barboroughcould be discerned.

  Within, the place was plainly furnished. The ground floor consistedof stone flags on which were spread large mats. The fireplace waslarge and at one time boasted of a chimney corner and settle. In thegrate a fire had been laid in anticipation of Mr. Norton's return.

  "I'm just going upstairs to shut those windows," said Peter. "Isuppose Norton's D.T. forgot to close them. Do you want to have alook round the upper rooms?"

  "Not with this ankle. It feels a bit painful," replied Entwistle."If you don't mind I'll wait here."

  Directly he heard the sound of Barcroft's footsteps through theraftered ceiling Entwistle stole softly to the desk that stood inthe corner of the room. Slipping on a pair of thin gloves andproducing a bundle of keys from his trouser's pocket he setdeliberately to work to open the locked drawers, for in contrast toPeter Barcroft's easy-going methods Andrew Norton had lockedeverything up, notwithstanding his supposedly temporary visit toLadybird Fold on the night of the raid.

  In less than thirty seconds Entwistle had the desk open. Deftly hewent through a pile of papers, as brazenly as Andrew Norton hadexamined the manuscript on Peter's bureau. In quantity there wasvery little: a small batch of tradesmen's receipts, a notebook halffilled with calculations evidently referring to electrical problems,a few letters that seemed of no interest except to the writers andtheir recipient, and an unfinished manuscript written on two sheetsof foolscap, the opening sentences of which were as follows:

  "Whenever you have an opportunity of visiting Dartmoor I should strongly advise you to take it. It is fairly easy to reach from Plymouth. Even in the depth of winter the rugged uplands have their charm. When last in that neighbourhood I took coach to Totnes: Every few hours a boat runs to Dartmouth. If tide permits, I ought to add. The Dart is a charmingly picturesque river. In the town itself there is much to be seen. Several of the old houses, especially in the Butter-walk, are worthy of close inspection. The castle is open to visitors. Every facility for tourists and visitors in the town. Some fishing to be had in the river. Better hauls are to be obtained in Start Bay. It is advisable to take a professional boatman, as the tide is tricky and at times dangerous. Sailing boats can be hired by the day or hour. Zealous devotees of the piscatorial art will have no cause to regret their choice of this fishing centre. Up the river, above Totnes, trout abound. Rules and regulations relating to the close seasons are by no means drastic."

  Philip Entwistle chuckled as he perused this document.

  "Sort of thing that would easily pass the Press Censor," he said tohimself, "At first sight a kind of extract from a guide book toDevonshire. Quite harmless--I think not. _Now let me jot down thefirst letter of each sentence_: WIE (that's promising) WEIT(better) IST (better still) ES (now we begin to see light. Germanfor a dead cert) BIS ZUR KLIPPEN HOHE, which, translated, means,'What is the distance to the summit of the cliffs?' That's goodenough. I'll take the liberty of borrowing this document. I mustrisk friend Norton returning before to-morrow."

  Carefully refolding the papers the vet, placed them in his insidecoat-pocket, then having slipped the catch of the window, he awaitedPeter's return.

  "Hope I haven't kept you?" inquired Barcroft.

  "Not at all," was the prompt reply.

  "By the bye," remarked Peter as the pair retraced their steps toLadybird Fold, "this might interest you. I meant to have shown ityou before, but somehow I forgot."

  He handed Entwistle a copy of the document that had been found onthe body of the German airman.

  Philip Entwistle read it carefully.

  "Ha! A price on your head, eh?" he remarked.

  "I don't take it seriously," said Peter. "It may be genuine. Billyhanded it to me just as the train was leaving the station. He had notime to explain. Usual family failing, I suppose--leaving things tothe last minute."

  Entwistle made no reply to his companion's remarks. He was thinkingdeeply, trying to piece together certain items that had already beenbrought to his notice.

  "I won't tell him just yet," he soliloquised. "Must make sure of myground first."

  After tea Entwistle drove away, ostensibly to visit a farmer atWindyhill. As a matter of fact he stopped at the Waterloo Hotel,retired to a private room and made a careful copy of the document hehad annexed from The Croft.

  "So that's how they communicate with him," he mused. "Simplesolution when you've been given the tip. The next point is: how doeshe convey his information to them?" Late that night Entwistlereturned from Windyhill by a loop route that passed within half amile of The Croft. Driving his car off the road and on to a patch ofwaste land he extinguished the lights. This done he walked over themoor to The Croft, opened the unlatched window, entered the houseand replaced the borrowed document.

  Then, conscious of a good day's work accomplished, he went home, togather up the tangled skeins of the complicated task in hand.