Till the Clock Stops

by J. J. Bell

  CHAPTER XV

  It would have been beyond Teddy France to describe clearly his ownfeelings as he waited in the Lancasters' drawing-room late on thefollowing afternoon. His dearest friend was alive; his dearest hope wasdead. Yet how could he be otherwise than glad, if only on Doris'saccount? Early in the day he had sent her a note, express, begging her tobe at home at five. This meant questionings and reproaches from Mrs.Lancaster, for she and her daughter had what she deemed a most importantsocial engagement; but the girl was firm, and eventually the mother wentoff alone in a sullen temper.

  In any case, Doris would have revolted from tea and tattle thatafternoon. She had suffered a great shock the previous night. And sinceTeddy's note had suggested something most urgent, but told her nothing,she entered the drawing-room to meet him with foreboding added to aconsuming fear. At the sight of him, so honest and kindly, she could havegone to his arms out of sheer longing for peace and comforting.

  Teddy thought he had himself well in hand for his delicate task, but hewas pale, and she noticed it.

  "What is it?" she asked, all apprehension.

  "Something good, Doris, but I can't tell you until you sit down."

  "Good!" She forced a smile. She would not hurt his feelings, thoughapparently he had nothing very important to tell her after all. PoorDoris! all the big things in her life nowadays were of the evil sort."Well, why don't you tell me, Teddy?"

  "Because it's so tremendously good.'"

  "Oh!" There was no mistaking his earnestness. Her mind turned quickly toBullard. Had Teddy found out something?

  "Doris, if you were given one wish, what would you wish for? You know,you can say anything to me."

  She did not hesitate. "I'd wish that father were free from a great andterrible trouble."

  "Well, we may hope for that, I'm sure. But if--if the wish would bringabout something that--that you had believed past hoping for--what then?"He did not wait for her answer. "Doris," he said gently, "somebody hascome home, safe and sound.... I had a letter from Alan Craig thismorning. He is at Grey House now." He paused, puzzled. She was taking itso much more calmly than he had expected. The room was dusky and thefire-light deceptive, so he could hardly read her face. But presently hedescried the glint of tears, and next moment she drooped and hid her eyesin her hands.

  He spoke again. "For a reason which I don't yet know, Alan has come homesecretly. He asks me to beg you to trust him for a little while. He musthave a very strong reason for the secrecy. He wants my advice and help,so I'm leaving for Scotland to-night. If you have any message, pleasegive me it now, Doris, and I'll leave you. You must want to be alone."

  He waited, leaning against the mantel, watching her bowed head, tornbetwixt loyalty and longing. Minutes passed before she uncovered her eyesand sat up. "Teddy," she said, "please sit down. There are things I musttell you before you go to Scotland." She wiped her eyes and put away thehandkerchief as if for good. "You must be thinking me a very strange andheartless girl. You must be asking yourself why I am not overjoyed at thewonderful news. Don't speak. I suppose I don't properly realise it yet.Alan is alive and well!--I never was so glad of anything; I'll nevercease to be glad of it. And just for a moment nothing else in the worldseemed to matter. But--but I can't escape--I am like a prisoner told of agreat joy which she can never look upon--"

  "Doris, what are you saying? You don't for a moment imagine thatBullard--"

  "Let me go on while I can. It's not easy to make my story coherent, so bepatient... Something most awful happened last night. You know I was atthe Lesters' dance, but I only stayed an hour--I got so worried aboutfather. I pleaded a headache, and they got a taxi for me. It would benearly eleven when I left. The fog was lifting. Just as the cab wasreaching home I looked out and saw a dreadful-looking man coming from ourdoor. He stared at me so horribly, so suspiciously, that I waited in thecab till he was well away. I had a latch-key and let myself in quietly. Iwent into the drawing-room. The lights were on, but the fire was low andno one was there. Mother had spoken of going early to bed, and I thoughtshe must have done so. I went along to the library. There was no sound,but as I opened the door I heard a hoarse voice, though what it said Idid not catch. It was followed by a smash. I drew back the curtain--youknow how it hangs across the corner--and I saw--"

  "Doris," the young man cried, "you're distressing yourself--"

  "I must tell you, or go mad. Mr. Bullard was sitting at the table withhis back to me. Father and mother were standing on the other side. Theywere just ghastly. On the table was a dark green roundish box, open, andsome trays of diamonds. There were diamonds on the floor, too." Dorispaused and wet her lips. "When I was a young girl," she continued,"before we came home, you know, Christopher Craig took me into his houseone afternoon to give me some sweets, as he often did, and after biddingme not tell anybody, he showed me a dark green box, and in it were traysof diamonds. I never forgot it."

  "But my dear girl--"

  "Almost at once mother ordered me to go away. I went up to my room, andthought till I began to understand. I asked myself questions. What werethose sudden journeys to Scotland for? Why was father so nervousafterwards? Who was the dreadful-looking man I saw? What made father andmother look so--so awful when I found them in the library?"

  A heartsick feeling possessed Teddy, while he said: "But, Doris, allthose apparently ugly things may be capable of explanation."

  "Wait! ... Of course I could not sleep. I didn't know what to do withmyself. At three in the morning I went down to the library for a book,though I knew I should never read it.... And before the cold firehe--father was sitting alone, like a--a broken man. Oh, Teddy, you alwaysliked father, didn't you?" Ere he could reply she proceeded: "He was solonely, poor father! I loved him better than ever I had done.... Andafter a while he told me things--things I can't tell even to you. But thebox of diamonds was Christopher Craig's--now Alan's. Father would notblame Mr. Bullard more than himself--but _I_ know.... And now here is astrange thing: all those diamonds are false, and of little value comparedwith the real. And, do you know, father was glad of that, though it meansruin. Father supposes it was a trick of Caw's--Caw was Mr. Craig'sservant--I used to like him--and he was really very fond of me when I wasa little girl--and so I thought of a plan." She sighed.

  "Am I to hear your plan, Doris?"

  "Oh, it can never be carried out now. It was just this: I would makea journey to Scotland, with the box in my dressing-case--it's therenow; but let me go on. Then I would hire a car for a day's run roundthe coast, and I would call at Mr. Craig's house--quite casually, ofcourse--just to see how my old acquaintance, Caw, was getting on.That would be--or would have been--the most natural thing in theworld. Of course Caw would ask me into the house, and would offer toget me tea. And while he was getting it--well, I know where the boxused to be kept--"

  "You brave little soul!"

  "Oh, I'd risk anything for father," she said simply. "Once the box wasback in its place, he would be safe from one horror, at any rate. Thestones, though they are imitation, are worth several thousand pounds.Even if Caw found me out, I don't think he'd do anything terrible."

  "But why should Caw suspect your--"

  "He doesn't suspect--he _knows_! There are things about it I can'tunderstand, but this morning my plan seemed the best possible. Before wewent to bed father and I got slips of wood and jammed the box so tightlyshut that you would have said it was locked--there was no key, youunderstand. Then--it was my idea--I got a little earth from a plant inthe dining-room and made a few dirty marks on the carpet and window-sill.And I took the decanter and poured a lot of the whiskey out of thewindow, which I left open; and I put a soiled tumbler on the floor. Andwe broke the door of the cabinet where the box had been, and then we wentup to bed, and I took the box with me."

  Teddy stood up. "You perfect brick!" he cried; "I feel like cheering!"

  She smiled the ghost of a smile. "And now you've guessed that there was afuss about burglars in the morning, and Father 'p
honed Mr. Bullard thatthe box was gone--which was not quite true, but as true as Mr. Bullarddeserved--and Mr. Bullard came furious to the house, and left vowingvengeance on the dreadful-looking man who had unlocked the box the nightbefore. So you see my poor little plan worked so far--only so far."

  "What you mean," said the young man softly, "is that Alan must notknow--"

  "Caw is bound to tell Alan, has probably told him already. Don't you seehow hideous the situation has become for father--and Alan, too?"

  "I do see it. But now--you know there's not a bigger-hearted chap in theworld than Alan Craig--suppose your father were simply to tell himeverything--"

  "Oh, never!" she exclaimed. "That would mean betraying Mr. Bullard, andfather is--no, I can't tell you more. And I'm terrified that Mr. Bullardmay yet discover that the box was not stolen last night after all--he'sso horribly clever."

  Teddy considered for a moment. "If the box were back in its old place,"he said slowly, "that would end the matter in one way--"

  "In every way, for Alan and I would never meet again--"

  "You know Alan better than that, Doris. It is possible that Alan isnot yet aware of the--the loss; even possible that Caw has notdiscovered it."

  "Oh! if I could only hope for that!--not that I could ever face Alanagain. But, Teddy--"

  "Well," he said deliberately, "it might be worth while to act on thepossibility. If you think so, I'm your man, Doris."

  "You--you would take the box?" Her suddenly shining eyes gazed up at hisface in such gratitude and admiration that he turned slightly away. "Youwould risk your friendship with Alan--"

  "Nonsense! Don't put it that way, Doris; and don't talk of never facingAlan again. All this will pass. The thing we want to do now is to make itpass as quickly as possible. Give me the box and the necessarydirections, and I'll do my best."

  "Oh, you are good! I confess I thought of your doing it, but the ideacame all of a sudden and I hated it. I still hate it. It's making you doan underhand thing; it's cheating Alan in a way."

  "It's returning his property, anyway," said Teddy, not too easily. "Butthe more I think of it, the more necessary it seems. For we do not knowthat the box belongs to Alan alone; and supposing others were interestedin the diamonds, false though they are, Alan might be forced to--to act.So let me have it now, and I'll clear out, for I can tell you I'm prettyfunky about meeting Mrs. Lancaster with it in my hand. And, Doris, it'splain to me that your father is somehow bound to Mr. Bullard. If you can,find out how much--excuse my bluntness--it would take to free him. I'm apoor devil, yet I might be able to do something in some way--"

  "Oh, Teddy, Teddy, what am I to say to you?"

  "Not another word, Doris, or we'll be caught!" He laughed shortly, strodeto a switch and flooded the room with light. There was a limit even tohis loyalty.

  Five minutes later he left the house with a tidy brown-paper parcelunder his arm.

  In her room Doris fell on her knees, and when thanksgiving and petitionswere ended remained in that position, thinking. And one of her thoughtswas rather a strange question: "Why am I not more glad--madly glad--thatAlan is alive?" And she remembered that she had sent no message.