CHAPTER XVIII
A COUNTERPLOT
Luke Asgill rode slowly from the gates, not without a backward glancethat raked the house. The McMurrough walked by his stirrup, talkingrapidly--he, too, with furtive backward glances. In five minutes he hadexplained the situation and the Colonel's vantage ground. At the end ofthose minutes, and when they were at some distance from the house, "Isee," Asgill said thoughtfully. "Easy to put him under the sod! Butyou're thinking him worse dead than alive."
"Sorra a doubt of it!"
"Yet the bogs are deep," Asgill returned, his tone smacking faintly ofraillery. "You might deal with him first, and his heir when the timecame. Why not?"
"God knows!" James answered. "And I've no taste to make the trial." Hedid not name the oath he had taken to attempt nothing against ColonelJohn, nor to be a party to any attempt. He had slurred over thatepisode. He had dwelt in preference on the fact of the will and thedilemma in which it placed him.
Asgill looked for some moments between his horse's ears, flicking hisfoot the while with his switch. When he spoke he proved in three orfour sentences that if his will was the stronger, his cunning was alsothe more subtle. "A will is revocable," he said. "Eh?"
"It is."
"And the man that's made one may make another?"
"Who's doubting it?"
"But you're doubting," Asgill rejoined--and he laughed as hespoke--"that it would not be in your favour, my lad."
"Devil a bit do I doubt it!" James said.
"No, but in a minute you will," Asgill answered. And stooping from hissaddle--after he had assured himself that his groom was out ofearshot--he talked for some minutes in a low tone. When he raised hishead again he clapped The McMurrough on the shoulder. "There!" he said,"now won't that be doing the trick for you?"
"It's clever," James answered, with a cruel gleam in his eyes. "It isd--d clever! The old devil himself couldn't be beating it by the lengthof his hoof! But----"
"What's amiss with it?"
"A will's revocable," James said, with a cunning look. "And what he cando once he can do twice."
"Sorrow a doubt of that, too, if you're innocent enough to let him makeone! But you're not, my lad. No; the will first, and then----" LukeAsgill did not finish the sentence, but he grinned. "Anything elseamiss with it?" he asked.
"No. But the devil a bit do I see why you bring Flavvy into it?"
"Don't you?"
"I do not."
Asgill drew rein, and by a gesture bade his groom ride on. "No?" hesaid. "Well, I'll be telling you. He's an obstinate dog; faith, andI'll be saying it, as obstinate a dog as ever walked on two legs! Andleft to himself, he'd, maybe, take more time and trouble to come towhere we want him than we can spare. But, I'm thinking, JamesMcMurrough, that he's sweet on your sister!"
The McMurrough stared. The notion had never crossed his mind. "It'sjesting you are?" he said.
"It's the last thing I'd jest about," Asgill answered sombrely. "It isso; whether she knows it or not, I know it! And so d'you see, my lad,if she's in this, 'twill do more--take my word for it that know--tobreak him down and draw the heart out of him, so that he'll care littleone way or the other, than anything you can do yourself!"
James McMurrough's face, turned upwards to the rider, reflected hisadmiration. "If you're in the right," he said, "I'll say it for you,Asgill, you're the match of the old one for cleverness. But do youthink she'll come to it, the jewel?"
"She will."
James shook his head. "I'm not thinking it," he said.
"Are you not?" Asgill answered, and his face fell and his voice wasanxious. "And why?"
"Sure and why? I'll tell you. It was but a day or two ago I'd a plan ofmy own. It was just to swear the plot upon him; swear he'd come off theSpanish ship, and the rest, d' you see, and get him clapped in Traleegaol in my place. More by token, I was coming to you to help in it. ButI thought I'd need the girl to swear to it, and when I up and told hershe was like a hen you'd take the chickens from!"
Asgill was silent for a moment. Then, "You asked her to do that?" hesaid, in an odd tone.
"Just so."
"And you're wondering she didn't do it?"
"I am."
"And I'm thanking God she'd not be doing it!" Asgill retorted.
"Oh!" James exclaimed. "You're mighty particular all in a minute, Mr.Asgill. But if not that, why this. Eh? Why this?"
"For a reason you'd not be understanding," Asgill answered coolly. "ButI know it myself in my bones. She'll do this if she's handled. Butthere's a man that'll not be doing it at all, at all, and that's UlickSullivan. You'll have to be rid of him for a time, and how I'm notsaying."
"I'll be planning that."
"Well, make no mistake about it. He must not get wind of this."
"Ain't I knowing it?" James returned restively. He had been snubbed,and he was sore.
"Well, there was a thing you were not knowing," Asgill retorted, with alook which it was fortunate that the other did not see. "And stillthere's a thing you've not thought of, my lad. It's only to aProtestant he can leave it, and you must have one ready. Now if I----"
"No!" James cried, with sudden energy. And he drew back a step, andlooked the other in the face. "No, Mr. Asgill," he continued; "if it isto that you've been working, I'd as soon him as you! Ay, by G----d, Iwould! I'd sooner turn myself!"
"I can believe that."
"A hundred times sooner!" James repeated. "And what for not? What's toprevent me? Eh? What's to prevent me?"
"Your sister," Asgill answered.
James's face, which had flamed with passion, lost its colour.
"Your sister," Asgill repeated with gusto. "I'd like fine to see youasking her to help you turn Protestant! Faith, and, for a mere word ofthat same, I'll warrant she'd treat you as the old gentleman treatedyou!"
"Anyway, I'll not trust you," James replied, with venom. "Sooner thanthat I'll have--ay, that will do finely--I'll have Constantine Husseyof Duppa. He's holder for three or four already, and the whole countrycalls him honest! I'll have him and be safe."
"You'll do as you please about that," Asgill answered equably. If hefelt any chagrin, he hid it well. "And that being settled, I wish youluck. Only, mind you, I don't use my wits for nothing. If the estate'sto be yours, Flavia's to be mine--if she's willing."
"Willing or unwilling for what I care!" James answered brutally.
Asgill did not hide his scorn. "An excellent brother!" he said. "Andso, good-day to you. But have a care of old Ulick."
"Do you think I'm a fool?" James shouted after him.
It was well, perhaps, that the wind carried Asgill's answer across thewater and wasted it on the dusk, which presently swallowed hisretreating form. The McMurrough stood awhile where the other had lefthim. He watched the rider go, and twice he shook his fist after him.
"Marry my sister, you dog," he muttered. "Ay, if it will give me myplace again! But for helping you to the land first and to herafterwards, as you'd have me, you schemer, you bog-trotter, it wouldmake Tophet's dog sick! You d----d dirty son of an upstart! You'd marrymy sister, would you? It will be odd"--he paused--"if I don't jink youyet, when I've made my use of you! I'm a schemer too, Mister Asgill,only--one at a time, one at a time! The Colonel first, and youafterwards! Ay, you afterwards, brother-in-law!"
With a last gesture of defiance--Asgill had long passed out ofsight--he returned to the house.
It was two or three days after this interview that Colonel Sullivan,descending at the breakfast hour, found Flavia in the room. He saw herwith surprise; with greater surprise he saw that she remained, forduring those three days the girl had not sat at meals with him. Once ortwice his entrance had surprised her, but it had been the signal forher departure; and he had seen no more of her than the back of her heador the tail of her gown. More often he had found the men alone and hadsat down with them. Far from resenting this avoidance, he had found itnatural and even proper; and suffering it patiently, he had hoped,though almo
st against hope, that steering a steady course he wouldgradually force her to change her opinion of him. He, on his part, mustnot give way. He had saved the house from a great peril; he had clearedit of--vermin. As he had begun he must continue, and hug, for comfort,the old proverb, _Femme souvent varie_.
That she was already beginning to change he could scarcely hope; yet,when he saw on this morning that she meant to abide his coming, he waselated--secretly and absurdly elated.
She was at the window, but she turned on hearing his step. "I amwishing to speak to you," she said. But her unforgiving eyes looked outof a hard-cut face, and her figure was stiff as a sergeant's cane.
After that he did not try to compass a commonplace greeting. He bowedgravely. "I am ready to listen," he answered.
"I am wanting to give you a warning," she said. "Your man Bale--I haveno reason to wish him ill. But he does not share the immunity which youhave secured, and if you'll be taking my advice you will send him away.My uncle is riding as far as Mallow; he will be absent ten days. If youthink fit, you will allow your man to go with him. The intervalmay"--she halted as if in search of a word, but her eyes did not leavehis--"I do not say it will, but it may mend matters."
"I am obliged to you," he answered. Then he was silent, reflecting.
"You are not wishing," she said, with a touch of contempt, "to exposethe man to a risk you do not run yourself?"
"Heaven forbid!" he answered. "But----"
"If you think he is a protection to you," she continued in the sametone, "do not send him."
"He is not that," he replied, unmoved by her taunt. "But I am alone,and he is a comfort to me."
"As you please," she answered.
"Nevertheless he shall go," he continued. "It may be for the best." Hewas thinking that if he rejected this overture, she might make noother: and, hard as it would prove to persuade Bale to leave him, hemust undertake it. "In any case," he added, "I thank you."
She did not deign to answer, but she turned on her heel and went out.On the threshold she met a serving-boy and she paused an instant, andthe Colonel caught a momentary glimpse of her face. It wore a strangelook, of disgust or of horror--he was not sure which--that appalledhim; so that when the door closed upon her, he remained gazing at it.Had he misread the look? Or--what was its meaning? Could it be that shehated him to that degree! At once the elation which the interview andher thoughtfulness for Bale had roused in him sank; and he was in abrown study when Uncle Ulick, the only person, Bale excepted, to whomhe could look for support or sympathy, came in and confirmed the storyof his journey.
"You had better come with me," he said, with a meaning look at Jamesand the O'Beirnes, who talked with averted faces, turned theirshoulders on their elders and flouted the Colonel as far as they dared."I shall lie at Tralee one night, and at Ross Castle one night, and atMallow the third."
But Colonel John had set his course, and was resolved to abide by it.After breakfast he saw Bale, and he had the trouble with him which hehad foreseen. But in the end military obedience prevailed and the manconsented to go--with forebodings at which his master affected tosmile.
"None the less I misdoubt them," the man said, sticking to his pointwith the east-country doggedness, which is the antipodes of the Irishcharacter. "I misdoubt them, your honour. They were never so carefulfor me," he added grimly, "when they were for piking me in the bog!"
"The young lady had naught to do with that," Colonel John replied.
"D----n me if I know!"
"Nonsense, man!" the Colonel said sharply. "I'll not hear such words."
"But why separate us, your honour?" Bale pleaded. "Not for good, Iswear. No, not for good!"
"For your greater safety, I hope."
"Oh, ay, I understand that! But what of your honour's?"
"I have explained to you," the Colonel said patiently, "why I am safehere."
"For my part, and that's flat, I hate their soft sawder!" the man burstout. "It's everything to please you while they sharpen the pike tostick in your back. If old Oliver, that was a countryman of my own, andbred not so far off, had dealt with a few more of the rogues----"
"Hush!" Colonel John cried sternly. "And, for my sake, keep your tonguebetween your teeth. Have done with such talk, or you'll not be safe, goor stay; Be more prudent, man!"
"It's my belief I'll never see your honour again!" the man cried, withpassion. "That's my belief! That's my belief and you'll not stir it."
"We've parted before in worse hap," Colonel John answered, "and cometogether again. And, please God, we'll do the same this time."
The man did not answer, but he shook his head obstinately. For the restof the day he clung to his master like a burr, and it was with anunusual sinking of the heart that Colonel John saw him ride away on themorrow. With him went Uncle Ulick, the Colonel's other friend in thehouse; and certainly the departure of these two seemed unlucky, if itwas nothing worse. But the man who was left behind was not one to giveway to vain fears. He thrust down the rising doubt, and chid himselffor a presentiment that belittled Providence. Perhaps in the depths ofhis heart, he welcomed a change, finding cheer in the thought that thesmaller the household at Morristown, the more prominently, andtherefore the more fairly, he must stand in Flavia's view.
Be that as it might, he saw nothing of her on that day or the followingday. But though she shunned him, others did not. He began to remarkthat he was seldom alone, even in the house. James and the O'Beirneswere always at his elbow--watching, watching, watching, it seemed tohim. They said little, and what they said they whispered to one anotherin corners; but if he came out of his chamber, he found one in thepassage, and if he mounted to it, one forewent him! This dogging, thesewhisperings, this endless watching, would have got on the nerves of amore timid man; it began to disturb him. He began to fancy that evenDarby and the serving-boys looked askance at him and kept him in view.Once he took a notion that the butler, who had been friendly withinlimits--for the sake of that father who had met his man in Traleechurchyard--wished to say something to him. But at the critical momentMorty O'Beirne popped up from somewhere, and Darby sneaked off insilence.
The Colonel disdained to ask what was afoot, but he thought that hewould give Morty a chance of speaking. "Are you looking for yourbrother?" he asked suavely.
"I am not," Morty answered, with a gloomy look.
"Nor for The McMurrough?"
"I am not. I am thinking," he added, with a grin, "that he has hishands full with the young lady."
Colonel John was somewhat startled. "What's the matter?" he asked.
"Oh, two minds in a house. Sorrow a bit more than that. It's no verynew thing in a family," Morty added. And he went out whistling "'Twasa' for our rightful King." But he went, as the Colonel noted, nofarther than the courtyard, whence he could command the room throughthe window. He lounged there, whistling, and now and again peeping.
Suddenly, on the upper floor, Colonel John heard a door open, and theclamour of a voice raised in anger. It was James's voice. "Tell him?Curse me if you shall!" Colonel John heard him say. The next moment thedoor was sharply closed and he caught no more.
But he had heard enough to quicken his pulses. What was it she wishedto tell him? _Souvent femme varie?_ Was she already seeking to followup the hint which she had given him on Bale's behalf? And was thespecial surveillance to which he had been subjected for the last twodays aimed at keeping them apart, that she might have no opportunity oftelling him--something?
Colonel John suspected that this might be so. And his heart beat, ashas been hinted, more quickly. At the evening meal he was early in theroom, on the chance that she might appear before the others. But shedid not descend, and the meal proved unpleasant beyond the ordinary,James drinking more than was good for him, and taking a tone, brutaland churlish, if not positively hostile. For some reason, the Colonelreflected, the young man was beginning to lose his fears. Why? What washe planning? How was he, even if he had no respect for his oath,thinking to evade that dil
emma which ensured his guest's safety?
"Secure as I seem, I must look to myself," Colonel John thought. And heslept that night with his door bolted and a loaded pistol under hispillow. Next morning he took care to descend early, on the chance ofseeing Flavia before the others appeared. She was not down: he waited,and she did not come. But neither did his watchers; and when he hadbeen in the room five minutes a serving-girl slipped in at the back,showed him a scared face, held out a scrap of paper and, when he hadtaken it, fled in a panic and without a spoken word.
He hid the paper about him and read it later. The message was inFlavia's hand; he had seen her write more than once. But if he had not,he knew that neither James nor the O'Beirnes were capable of penning agrammatical sentence. Colonel John's spirits rose as he read the note.
"_Be at the old Tower an hour after sunset. You must not be followed._"
"That is more easily said than done," he commented.
Nor, if he were followed through the day as closely as on previousdays, did he see how it was to be done. He stood, cudgelling his brainsto evolve a plan that would enable him to give the slip to the threemen and to the servants who replaced them when they were called away.But he found none that might not, by awakening James's suspicions, makematters worse; indeed, it seemed to him that James was alreadysuspicious. He had at last to let things take their course, in the hopethat when the time came they would shape themselves favourably.
They did. For before noon he gathered that James wanted to go fishing.The O'Beirnes also wanted to go fishing, and for the generalconvenience it became him to go with them. He said neither No nor Yes;but he dallied with the idea until it was time to start and they hadmade up their minds that he was coming. Then he declined.
James swore, the O'Beirnes scowled at him and grumbled. Presently thethree went outside and held a conference. His hopes rose as he satsmiling to himself, for their next step was to call Darby. Evidentlythey gave him orders and left him in charge, for a few minutes laterthey went off, spending their anger on one another, and on the barefootgossoons who carried the tackle.
Late in the afternoon Colonel John took up his position on thehorse-block by the entrance-gates, where the June sun fell on him;there he affected to be busy plaiting horse-hair lines. Every two orthree minutes Darby showed himself at the door: once in a quarter of anhour the old man found occasion to cross the court to count the ducksor rout a trespassing beggar. Towards sunset, however, he came lessoften, having to busy himself with the evening meal. The Colonel smiledand waited, and presently the butler came again, found him still seatedthere, and withdrew--this time with an air of finality. "He'ssatisfied," the Colonel muttered, and the next moment--for the sun hadalready set a full hour--he was gone also. The light was waning fast,night was falling in the valley. Before he had travelled a hundredyards he was lost to view.
The fishing-party had started the contrary way, so that he had nothingto fear from them. But that he might omit no precaution, when he hadgone a quarter of a mile he halted and listened, with his ear near theground, for the beat of pursuing footsteps. He heard none, nor anysounds but the low of a cow whose calf was being weaned, the "Whoo!hoo! hoo!" of owls beginning to mouse beside the lake, and the creak ofoars in a boat which darkness already hid. He straightened himself witha sigh of relief, and hastened at speed in the direction of thewaterfall.
He gave Flavia credit for all the virtues, if for some of the faults ofa proud, untamed nature. Therefore he believed her to be fearless.Nevertheless, before he stood on the platform and made out the shape ofthe Tower looming dark and huge above him, he had come to theconclusion that the need which forced her to such a place at such anhour must be great. The moon would not rise before eleven o'clock, thelast shimmer of the water had faded into unfathomable blackness beneathhim; he had to tread softly and with care to avoid the brink.
He peered about him, hoping to see her figure emerge beside him. He didnot, and, disappointed, he coughed. Finally, in a subdued voice, hecalled her by name, once and twice. Alas! only the wind, softlystirring the grass and whispering in the ivy, answered him. He wasbeginning to think--with a chill of disappointment, excessive at hisage and in the circumstances--that she had failed to come, when, at nogreat distance before him, he fancied some one moved. He groped his wayforward half a dozen paces, found a light break on his view, and stoodin astonishment.
The movement had carried him beyond the face of the Tower, and sorevealed the light, which issued from a doorway situate in the flank ofthe building. He paused; but second thoughts, treading on the heels ofsurprise, reassured him. He saw that in that position the light was notvisible from the lake or the house; and he moved quickly to the opendoor, expecting to see Flavia. Three steps led down to the basementroom of the Tower; great was his surprise when he saw below him in thisremote, abandoned building--in this room three feet below the level ofthe soil--a table set handsomely with four lighted candles in tallsticks, and furnished besides with a silver inkhorn, pens, and paper.Beside the table stood a couple of chairs and a stool. Doubtless therewas other furniture in the room, but in his astonishment he saw onlythese.
He uttered an exclamation, and descended the steps. "Flavia!" he cried."Flavia!" He did not see her, and he moved a pace towards that part ofthe room which the door hid from him.
Crash! The door fell to, dragged by an unseen hand. Colonel John sprangtowards it; but too late. He heard the grating of a rusty key turned inthe lock; he heard through one of the loopholes the sound of an inhumanlaugh; and he knew that he was a prisoner. In that moment the cold airof the vault struck a chill to his bones; but it struck not so cold norso death-like as the knowledge struck to his heart that Flavia hadduped him. Yes, on the instant, before the crash of the closing doorhad ceased to echo in the stone vaulting above him, he knew that, hefelt that! She had tricked him. She had deceived him. He let his chinsink on his breast. Oh, the pity of it!
The Wild Geese Page 18