No Man's Island

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by Herbert Strang


  CHAPTER X

  A SOFT ANSWER

  There was no more sleep that night for any of the party. When Pratt'sbruised head had been bathed and bandaged the three placed their chairsat the tent entrance, and sat in the still, warm air, discussing thesituation more seriously than they had yet done. They had learntdefinitely from the recent incident that at least two men were concernedin the campaign of petty annoyance. One of these--the man whose faceArmstrong had seen in the thicket--looked like a foreigner, andapparently either lived somewhere on the island or had means of reachingit from the mainland. What more probable than that the second man wasRush, and that his boat was placed at the foreigner's disposal?

  "The more I think of it," said Warrender, "the more likely it seems thatRush and one of the foreigners are playing some private game of theirown. I haven't a notion what the game is, but I can't believe thatPratt's uncle left instructions to worry trespassers on an island thatisn't his, or that any decent fellow in his secretary's position wouldencourage it."

  "That assumes the secretary is a decent fellow," remarked Armstrong.

  "Well, why not?" asked Pratt. "A man may be mad without being a fool,and my old uncle, though he's mad enough to hate English servants,wouldn't be such a fool as to engage foreigners without inquiring abouttheir characters."

  "That fellow Armstrong knocked down wasn't an attractive specimen," saidWarrender.

  "He was drunk," said Pratt. "Some of the most estimable characters--themost respectable of English butlers, for instance--may now and then takea drop too much."

  "That fellow is a sot," said Armstrong. "It's marked all over him."

  "Well, I tell you what I think we had better do," said Warrender. "Goup to the house, see the secretary, and put the case to him. If he's adecent fellow, and the man you tripped, Pratt, is one of his crew, he'llput a stop to this foolery. Will you go up with me to-morrow?"

  "Better take Armstrong," Pratt replied. "If my uncle were at home I'dgo and beard him, and jolly well tell him a few things for his good. ButI'd rather not show up in his absence. Besides, I shall have a headto-morrow, and a swelling the size of a turnip. I feel the growingpains; I'll be fit for nothing."

  "Rough luck!" said Warrender, commiseratingly. "Very well. Jack and Iwill go, and I dare say that'll be the end of our troubles."

  At nine o'clock next morning Armstrong and Warrender rowed off in thedinghy; at a quarter to ten they entered the grounds of the Red House.The paths were weedy, the grass untrimmed, the flower-beds untidy.

  "The foreigners don't overwork," remarked Armstrong, as they walkedalong the drive towards the house. "The place is a disgrace to theneighbourhood."

  "It certainly looks very much neglected," said Warrender. "The housemight be uninhabited but for that smoke from one of the chimneys, andthe car waiting at the door."

  "The same car Pratt and I saw yesterday. It belongs to old Blevins. Iwonder whether they use it for joy-riding, or what? The secretary maybe away, by the bye; yesterday he went off with a trunk."

  "A nuisance if he is. But we'll see."

  The front of the house faced south-east, and the drive wound from thegate in a wide arc to the left. The lower windows were shuttered; atsome of those on the upper storey the blinds were drawn; but as thevisitors approached there appeared at a small upper casement on the sideof the house facing them the form of a woman, At first it seemed thatshe had not seen them; she stood looking out in an attitude of idleimmobility. They could not distinguish her features through the smallsquare panes of the casement; she was stout in build, and dressed in theprint of a domestic servant.

  Suddenly, as her eyes fell on them, she gave a perceptible start. Sheturned her head quickly from the window, as if to see whether any onewas behind her; then raised her hands, apparently to undo the catch.Next moment she dropped them with a gesture of impatience or despair.The boys saw her shake her head, and, lifting an arm, make a sweepingmovement with it towards the rear of the house. A moment later she leftthe window hurriedly, as a servant might do in answering a call.

  "Rummy!" said Warrender. "That's Rogers's sister, I suppose; wife ofthe chef, you remember. What did she mean?"

  "It looked as if she wanted to open the window and couldn't," returnedArmstrong. "She wanted to speak to us."

  "That movement of her arm--was it a warning to us to go away?"

  "Too late in any case. That's the secretary coming out; he's seen us."

  The dapper little man whom Armstrong had seen on the day before, dressedas he was then, was hurrying down the steps from the front entrance whenhe caught sight of the boys. He stopped short, gave a swift glancebehind him, then descended the remaining steps and came towards them.His movements were quick, his step was light, and as he drew nearer theywere aware of a very vivid personality, accentuated by dark eyes ofgreat brilliance, set rather closely together.

  "Yes, gentlemen," he said, smiling, "what can I do for you?"

  His voice was low and smooth; the intonation, rather than the accent,alone suggested a foreign origin.

  "Can you give us a few minutes alone?" said Warrender.

  The chauffeur had just come down the steps, carrying a box, and stoodwith it still in his arms, beside the car, looking on with an air ofstartled curiosity.

  "Certainly," replied the man, "if it is only a question of minutes. Asyou see, I am about to drive out, and my time is short. Henrico"--headdressed the chauffeur--"put the box down and go into the house. Now,gentlemen."

  "You are Mr. Pratt's secretary, I believe," said Warrender, feeling alittle awkwardness in the situation, and wishing that the volublebanjoist were in the office of spokesman instead of himself.

  "Yes. My name is Gradoff--Paul Gradoff."

  "Well, Mr. Gradoff, I'm sorry to trouble you, but you may be able tothrow some light on a puzzle that's rather annoying to us."

  "Anything I can do----"

  "We are camping on the island over there, and ever since our arrivalhave been the object of annoying and--I'm afraid I must say--maliciousattacks. We have reason to believe that one of the aggressors is not anEnglishman, and knowing that your staff here is largely foreign, we havecome up to--to----"

  "Complain?" suggested Gradoff, as Warrender hesitated.

  "Well, rather to ask if you can help us," Warrender went on. "I shouldexplain that we fell foul of one of your men on the evening of ourarrival, and it occurs to me that he, or one of his mates, may beretaliating."

  "Ah yes; I had heard of that little matter from my man, Jensen," saidGradoff, suavely. "You could hardly expect him to be amiable, could you?He was insulted by a yokel, very properly chastised him, and was thensuddenly set upon by one of you young men, and before he could defendhimself was seriously hurt."

  "That's nonsense, Mr. Gradoff!" exclaimed Armstrong. "The man dealt afoul blow, and I stepped in."

  "It was you?" rejoined Gradoff, in his suave, smooth tones. "Theversion is different: _tot homines tot sententiae_--being students youwill recognise the allusion. It is so very difficult to reconcileconflicting stories, especially in common brawls. But, come; it is notlike Englishmen to make a fuss about trifles, and Olof Jensen is not theman to bear malice. If that is the sum of your complaint----"

  "But it is not," Warrender broke in, nettled by the Russian's suavityand his Latin. "We hadn't been twelve hours on the island when ourmotor-boat was set adrift----"

  "My dear young man, _quandoque dormitat Homerus_--you will correct me ifI do not quote accurately; my schooldays, alas! are a distant past.Even the most experienced sailors--and I am far from saying I do notinclude you among them--may tie a careless knot; make a slip, as youEnglish say. And the current is strong when swollen by the rain.Really, my dear sir----"

  "At any rate tin-tacks don't rain from heaven. We had a shower of themover our tent one night, and in the morning----"

  "_Latet anguis in herba_! Come, come; you were d
reaming. I am toldthat in the past the island was a favourite resort of trippers, a classof people who reprehensibly leave behind them much rubbish--paper bags,bottles, tin cans; why not tin-tacks?"

  Warrender was fuming, irritated by his lack of evidence as well as bythe secretary's manner. He wished that he had ignored the minorincidents, and confined his statement to the latest.

  "We'd no proof--I know that--till last night," he said. "A fellowtripped over a rope snare we had rigged up. One of us caught him, andknocked him out; he was clearly a foreigner----"

  "And you have him in custody? Ah, now we are getting to somethingsubstantial! He was a foreigner; on the principle _ex pedeHerculem_--you recognise the proverb?--you infer that he belongs to mystaff. And you did not bring him with you for confrontation?"

  "He was rescued by----"

  "By another foreigner?"

  "We don't know who by; he gave my friend a blow from behind."

  "That is more serious, truly. But what do you tell me? You are campingon the island--with permission? No, of course not; is it not No Man'sIsland? Well, what is no man's is all men's. What more likely than thatothers are camping there also? One of them falls over your rope, and isknocked out by your friend; your friend is, in turn, knocked out by afriend of the tripper. It is the _lex talionis_--the term is familiar toyou? That, of course, is only a theory, but I commend it to yourconsideration. And now, I take it, I have the sum of your complaints.I put it to you, do they make a case against my staff?"

  "I wasn't making a case against your staff," said Warrender. "I merelystated the facts."

  "But with a bias; yes, with a bias, natural enough to youth and hotblood. I do not blame you; but you will agree that I am somewhatconcerned for the good name of the men under my charge. Lest you shouldstill harbour doubts about them, I will summon them. You shall seethem. They number four. There is Jensen, the Swede, whom you,sir"--turning to Armstrong--"so unhappily misjudged. But you shall seethem all. There is a woman, too, the wife of the chef, an amiablecountrywoman of yours. It is perhaps not necessary to summon her? Youdo not suspect her of sowing tin-tacks or falling over your rope?"

  He smiled, and without waiting for an answer went to the open house-doorand called his chauffeur, to whom he gave instructions. Meanwhile, thetwo boys, chafing under his politeness with its touch of irony,exchanged looks of silent sympathy.

  "The men will be here immediately," said Gradoff, rejoining them. "Whata delightful summer we are having! _Per aestivam liquidam_--youremember the line? How I envy you your daily browsing on the Classics!Ah, here come the four suspects! Two, you perceive, are tall; two areshort. I will align them in order of their heights, as they do in yourarmy, I believe. Halt, men! Stand in line: Jensen at one end, thenRadewski, then Prutti, last of all, Rod. Now, my dear sirs, inspect thecompany."

  "There's no need," said Warrender. "We've seen them all in or about thevillage. None of these is the man you saw, Jack?"

  "No," replied Armstrong, shortly.

  "But darkness, even moonlight, is deceptive," said Gradoff, in hissuavest manner. "Really, I am concerned to convince you thoroughly; Ishould regret your going away harbouring the least particle ofsuspicion. I will interrogate them in turn. Jensen, you do not amuseyourself by sowing tin-tacks on No Man's Island?--Jensen, I may explain,is Mr. Pratt's horsekeeper, in particular, and handy-man in general.Well, Jensen?"

  "Nope," replied the man, gruffly, eyeing Armstrong with a scowl.

  "And you, Radewski?--Radewski is the gardener." The boys recognised himas the passenger in the car that had collided with the farm-wagon.

  "No, of course not," answered the Pole, smiling.

  "And now you, Prutti?--the chauffeur, as you see."

  "It is silly, stupid; I say ze question----" began the Italian, volubly.

  "Yes, yes; but I want no comments. Just say yes or no," Gradoffinterrupted.

  "No, zen; I say no. I say ze question----"

  "He comes from the south, gentlemen," said Gradoff, deprecatingly."Now, Rod, what have you to say?"

  "Sacre nom d'un----"

  "Now, now. Maximilien Rod is the chef, gentlemen, accustomed to the useof the diction of the menu. Plain English, Rod, if you please."

  "Zen I say zat ze man vat accuse me of so imbecile, so--so--so----"

  "Contain yourself, Rod. Yes or no?"

  "No, no; not at all--no!"

  "Four negatives do not make an affirmative," said Gradoff, turning tothe boys, and smiling with the persistent urbanity they were beginningto detest. "These are all my staff--with the exception of the excellentwoman, Rod's wife. Would you like to pursue your inquiries?"

  "Thank you, it is unnecessary," replied Warrender, in as even and politea tone as he was master of.

  "Then the men may return to their duties, and I may begin my journey.May I give you a lift as far as the cross-roads? Or, stay! You arehere very near the river. You may prefer to take a short cut throughthe grounds, and avoid the long walk on the dusty road."

  "Thank you," said Warrender, ready to accept any suggestion that wouldremove him quickly from the presence of Mr. Gradoff; "if some one willshow us the way."

  "Certainly. Quite a happy thought," said the Russian. He called to thechef, the rearmost of the party filing away. "Rod, show these gentlementhe shortest way to the river; bring them opposite to the island.Good-morning, gentlemen. I am sorry you have found me a broken reed.But I do hope your holiday will not be spoilt; I have such keen memoriesof my own happy holidays--_liberatio et vacuitas omnis molestiae_: youremember your Cicero? _Good_-morning."

  He sprang into the car, in which the chauffeur was already seated, andwith a smile and a wave of the hand was driven away.

 

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