by W. W. Jacobs
CHAPTER XXI--_Follow my Leader_
The detectives of Dibbs and Dubbs usually began their sentry-go atBrunswick Terrace as the clock struck eight. On the morning followingGeorge Early's second encounter with Caroli, Mole was at his post atsix. Looking over the bedroom curtains at half past, George noted thefact and swore softly. He completed his toilet, and, picking up theshabby portmanteau he had packed the night before, made his way to theback door.
The sleek top hat and frock coat of business had disappeared, andGeorge stood arrayed in the loudest of check suits, covered by a looselight coat; on his head was a cloth cap. In this array he made his wayout of the back gate, traversed the passage sacred to the tradesmen whosupplied Brunswick Terrace, and emerged in a mews, which led to a mainthoroughfare at right angles to that where the patient Mole kept watch.
George peeped cautiously round the corner: the coast was clear. Hehailed a disconsolate cabman, who had all but given up hope of a fare,and drove off to Victoria.
Arrived at the station, some strategy was necessary to make sure thatthe detectives were really evaded. George narrowly watched themovements of the men who loitered about the platform, and made feintsof leaving the station to see if any would follow him. Finding thatnobody took any interest in his movements, he approached the bookingclerk and ordered his ticket in a whisper. The train and George wentoff soon after seven without any further excitement than the franticbarking of a dog, that had been left behind.
It was perfectly obvious that George Early intended to checkmate hisenemies by discreetly withdrawing from London for a time. In theseclusion of the country he would be able to formulate some plan ofcampaign by which both lawyers and blackmailers would find that theyhad met their match.
George got out at a small station forty miles or so down the line. Theonly other passenger to alight was a young woman with three paperparcels, who had evidently too many personal troubles to be concernedin watching the movements of any young man. Having inquired of the oneporter the whereabouts of the Wheatsheaf Inn, the fugitive chief ofFairbrothers' had the satisfaction of finding a three-mile walk beforehim.
The landlord of the Wheatsheaf was not troubled much with visitors,although he advertised his house as the most popular in the country.George found himself to be the one and only guest.
"What is there to do about here?" he asked, when he had disposed of asubstantial meal.
"Do?" said the landlord, evasively. "It depends on what you want todo."
"I'm not particular," said George. "I've come down for a bit of achange. Any fishing here?"
The landlord lifted one hand, and wagged his head.
"You've hit on the one thing we haven't got. Anything but fishing."
"Shooting?" said George.
"Not at this time o' the year. You won't get shooting anywheres justnow."
Fishing and shooting were all that George could think of, and he wasnot an adept at either.
"If you'll take my advice," said the landlord, looking his visitor overcritically, "you'll just go easy at first. You've been overdoing it, Ican see, and you're fair run down. You don't want no shootin' norfishin', but plenty of good grub and a drop of good beer. I've seenyoung fellers the same way before. You take my tip and go easy."
As there appeared to be nothing else to do, George had to be contentwith this programme. He walked out for the rest of the morning, and forthe greater part of the afternoon; the evening was spent in thebar-parlour, where the landlord's old cronies drank George's health andadvised him to "take it easy."
Next morning the landlord handed over a telegram, which read--
"Have discharged all three--very indignant; take care of yourself; new men coming in to-day--ELLEN."
"Now my little beauties," said George, smiling, "we'll see how you likethat. Perhaps your friend Caroli can mesmerize some one into giving youa new job."
Three days of inaction passed, and George had not seen fit to deserthis country retreat. It was slow work walking, eating, and drinking,and the new master of Fairbrothers' was beginning to fall back on thephilosophy of the ancients, that wealth and position invariably havetheir disadvantages.
This morning it was raining, and he stood at the inn door debatingwhether he should brave the elements or retire to the bar-parlour. Theproblem was solved for him swiftly in an unexpected fashion. Acarrier's cart, much bespattered and glistening with wet, had turned abend in the road and was now approaching the inn at a jog-trot. AsGeorge looked at the man tucked up under the hood behind the old whitehorse, another face peering from between the parcels attracted hisattention. A keen glance satisfied him that this belonged to no otherperson in the world than Mrs. Gray's husband.
He turned indoors and went upstairs swiftly and silently. There wasnobody about, and George slipped into his bedroom, holding the dooropen that he might the better hear any conversation which ensued. Heanticipated some lively proceedings.
"Early?" said the landlord. "Yes, the gentleman's out, I think."
"Indeed!" said the voice of Gray. "Perhaps you'll be so good as to makesure that he is out, if you please. It's very important that I shouldsee him now."
"Perhaps I will," said the landlord, "and perhaps I won't." The factthat Gray had not ordered anything, but had only asked for a visitor ina peremptory voice, did not help to recommend him.
"You might give me a whisky," said Gray, in a milder tone, observinghis mistake. "Do you think Mr. Early will be long before he comesback?"
The landlord didn't know, but called to the stable-boy and told him tosee if Mr. Early was in his bedroom.
"I'll go with him, if you don't mind," said Gray.
George seized his hat as these remarks reached him, and looked aboutthe room. There was no way out, so he promptly crawled under the bed.
Somebody knocked and entered. "Ain't here," said the voice.
"Are you sure this is his room?" said Gray, entering and looking about.
"This is the room all right," said the boy; "'e ain't 'ere." Some wordsensued on the landing by Gray endeavouring to make a search of thehouse, from which he was finally persuaded by the landlady, a portlydame of fifteen stone.
As the departing footsteps reached the bottom of the stairs, Georgecame forth with a smile.
"Find him?" said the landlord downstairs to the boy.
"Ain't there," said the boy.
"Now I come to think of it," said the landlord, who had taken a disliketo Gray, "he went down to the post-office just before you came in.You'll catch him up if you hurry; it's only a couple of miles."
Gray prepared to depart. "If I should miss him," he said, "you can saythe gentleman who called came from--from Mrs. Early."
The landlord grunted, and Gray went off, having first satisfied himselfthat the man he wanted was not lurking about outside.
From his bedroom window George watched until Gray was nearly out ofsight, and at once prepared to take advantage of so favourable anopportunity for slipping off. To go down the stairs would mean creatingsuspicion; he raised the window and looked out; nobody was about Hepromptly climbed into the sill, dropped into the yard below, and walkedround to the front.
"Hallo!" said the landlord, "there's been a man here for you. Come fromMrs. Early, he said."
"Ah!" said George, surprised; "where is he? I must see him at once."
"I told him you went to the post-office," said the landlord; "he was arough-looking customer, and very disrespectful. I thought he'd comebegging, perhaps."
"He's a scoundrel," said George, indignantly; "I expect the lazy brutewon't come back. I must go after him at once; how long has he beengone?"
"Quarter of an hour," said the landlord; "I hope I didn't do wrongin----"
"That's all right," said George; "who's trap is that outside?"
"That's my trap, sir," said the landlord. "If you'd like to----"
"I'll borrow it," said George, "and go after him." He ran out, andjumped into the trap. In another minute he was driving off full s
peedto the station.
"Here, hi!" yelled the landlord, rushing out "He's going the wrong way.That ain't the way to the post-office. Hi! Jim, run after him--quick!Tell him----"
George heard the shouts, but drove straight ahead. He did the threemiles in twenty minutes, and reached the station just as a trainsteamed out. It was a down train, but George would have boarded itpromptly if he could have done so; any escape was better than none. Hestood on the platform cursing his luck, when a familiar voice fell onhis ear. He darted into the waiting-room, and peered through thewindow. What he saw did not add anything to the joy of his position,rather the reverse. Two men were wrangling with a porter; one wasParrott, the other Busby.
"I'm done now," thought George; "they've got me fairly. They're goingto hold me up while that foreign hound gets on to me again."
He looked round the waiting-room, but it offered no escape. There wasonly one thing to do--to go off in the trap again; and George was aboutto do it, when a London train rushed into the platform. He hesitated;if he could get across the line, he'd be safe. He waited feverishly fora few minutes, hoping that Busby and Parrott would move, but they didnot. The guard's whistle blew.
"Here goes," said George. He picked up a water-bottle, and hurled it atthe outside window. A terrific crash followed, and the landlord's ponystarted off with a mad gallop. Parrott and Busby rushed through thewaiting-room into the street. As they did so, George darted across theplatform, and jumped down on to the rails. The train was moving awayfrom the opposite side. Grasping a hand-rest, he climbed the nearestcarriage, and opened the door.
"Hi! Stand away!" yelled a porter.
"It's Early!" screamed a voice, which George recognized as Busby's.
Safe inside, with the train gathering speed, he leaned out of thewindow, and waved his cap.
The two men were dancing frantically on the platform.
"Stop him!" roared Parrott; "stop the train!"
But it was too late to follow this advice, and as the train rushed offGeorge beheld his old colleagues gesticulating wildly around asolitary, powerless porter.
The journey started, the young man's thoughts were soon fully occupied.It was evident that the three men were fairly on his track, and had nointention of giving up the chase. If once they caught him they wouldkeep him, and bring Caroli along to settle the third legacy. He couldsee through it all quite plainly. And, so far, he had not succeeded infinding a plan to properly check them.
George lit a cigarette, and settled himself moodily in the corner asthe train pulled up at a station.
Presently the door of his compartment opened, and the guard appeared,accompanied by a porter and the station-master.
"That's the chap," said the guard, pointing at George.
The solitary passenger glared at him in dignified silence.
"Now then, m'lad," said the station-master; "you'll have to get outhere."
"I'm going to Victoria, my man," said George, quietly.
"I've got orders to detain you; suspicious character," said thestation-master, authoritatively. "You're sure this is the one?"--to theguard.
"That's him," said the guard.
"Look here," said George, darkly, as the station-master got into thecarriage; "you'd better be careful what you're doing; I don't want anyof you men to get into trouble, so I give you warning."
"He got in at Coddem?" said the station-master, turning to the guard.
"Coddem," said the guard.
"Now, come along," said the station-master, impatiently.
George sat up, and looked him severely in the eye.
"Where's your authority for detaining me?" he asked. "There'll be a rowand heavy damages over this."
"It's all right," said the station-master; "I had a wire from Coddem todetain you--suspicious character."
"You've got the wrong man," said George. "Guard, start the train."
The station-master made up his mind quickly, and caught George by thearm.
"Give us a hand here, Joe," he said to the porter.
"Enough." George rose with dignity. "I'll go with you. It'll mean thesack for you all, this affair. Please don't say I didn't warn you."
"Don't you worry about us," said the station-master. "Right away,there!"
"Stop a bit," said the prisoner, pulling out a note-book; "I'll takeyour number please, Mr. Guard."
The guard smiled pleasantly, and displayed his number, gratuitouslyoffering his name and address, and the age of his grandfather.
"If they should ask you," he said cheerfully, as he swung off in themoving train, "you can say I've been vaccinated."
With much elaboration George entered all particulars in his book,including the porter's number and description, a note of thestation-master's whiskers, the time, and other odd things that gaveweight to the occasion.
"If you'll promise not to attempt to escape," said the station-master,"you can wait in the booking-office until they come for you."
"No, thank you," said George, stiffly; "this is a criminal affair, andyou must take the full consequences of it. It's just as well for you,perhaps, that you do not realize how serious it is."
"My orders are to detain you," said the man, stolidly.
"Where to?" asked the porter, as they halted by the booking-office.
"In the cloak-room," said the station-master. "I've got the guard'sword that he's the man."
"There's no getting out of it," said George, as he was thrust into asmall room cumbered with dusty trunks and parcels. "I warned youtwice!"
With the confidence of official rectitude the station-master gave thedoor a slam and boldly turned the key.
"Suspicious character that," George heard him say to a passenger.
"Ay," said the other, "looked a smart young chap."
"A dangerous man in my opinion," said the station-master, "but he won'tbe here long; there's some people coming by the next train to identifyhim."
"Oh," thought George, "are there? So they've done me, after all." Hegave vent to his feelings in a few choice expletives, and listened withdull curiosity to the retreating footsteps of his captors. He lookedabout him at the odd trunks and parcels, and finally noted that hishurried exit from the Wheatsheaf Inn had not improved his generalappearance.
"No brushes here, of course," said George, looking round. "What'sthis?" He picked up a parcel in two straps with a handle. It proved tobe a light dust coat. George used it to rub the mud splashes off hisclothes and improve the appearance of his boots. He climbed up andlooked through the narrow fanlight. There was not a living soul to beseen.
"I suppose I'm in this infernal place for a couple of hours," hegrumbled. "What's that?" He listened; signs of life were evident in abasket by the window. George gave it a sharp tap. A short bark greetedhim. "A dog!" He read the label, "Snooks, to be left till called for."
"Sorry for Snooks," said George, pulling out his pocket-knife, "but Imust have amusement." He cut the cord, and a small fox terrier boundedout and nearly went into a state of drivelling idiocy in his efforts toshow gratitude for release.
"Good boy!" said George, fondling the dog. "Wonder if there's any morehere?" He overhauled the parcels. "Hallo!" A faint mew arose fromanother basket. "This is a feline member; name of Wilkins." He cut thestrap and released a black kitten. "Good!" said George, "that's a signof luck." The cat jumped to the floor, and in two seconds a furious andterrific combat ensued, followed by a wild chase. Over trunks, baskets,bags and parcels went Wilkins' cat, followed madly by Snooks' dog.There was a momentary parley on a hat-box, and the chase continuedafresh, ending as suddenly as it began by Wilkins' cat disappearingthrough the fanlight.
In spite of this disappointment Snooks' dog wagged his tail and lookedup gratefully at George for the brief excitement.
"This is going to be a beanfeast, I can see," smiled the captive. "If Ican't get out of this place I'll make some trouble for that officiousold fool. Suspicious character, he said I was! What's this?--more oldclothes?" He pulled a plaid overco
at from under a pile of parcels andexamined it. In one of the pockets he found a flask of whisky which hetasted, and promptly abandoned. From that he made a searchinginvestigation of the room, overhauling other people's property withoutrespect to name or rank, and displaying an inquisitive curiosity in thecontents of small handbags. A square tin box puzzled him completely. Hetapped it, and peered into the small holes on the top.
"There's some mystery here," thought George. "Perhaps it's an infernalmachine, put here by one of the station-master's enemies. A man likethat is sure to have enemies. I'll open it."
This was easier said than done, but the most obstinate of boxes likethe most intricate of locks must give way before the perseverance ofman. George exerted all his strength in a supreme effort and pulled. Hewas successful; the lid flew off with unexpected suddenness, and thecontents came out in a shower.
George put down the box and laughed. "Well," he said, "who'd havethought of finding frogs in a cloak-room. Go it, Snooks!"
Snooks' dog needed no urging, but jumped and twirled and barked withastounding rapidity. The frogs with equal mobility spread themselvesover the room, and afforded the prisoner amusement for a good quarterof an hour. A small battalion of them found refuge in a large hamperfilled with farm produce. George watched this attempt at ambush withgreat interest.
So far the prisoner's confinement had met with no interruption fromwithout. Stealthy footsteps approached the door once, but on thisoccasion he contrived to push a handbag through the fanlight and hadthe satisfaction of knowing that Joe, the porter, received it on hishead. A few rude country oaths from Joe were the last sign of life fromthe platform.
George had not entirely given up hopes of escape, and the sound offootsteps on the platform warning him that the next train was nearlydue, he began to take note of his position. If he stayed quietly wherehe was the pursuers would come up with him, and never leave him untilthey had accomplished their purpose, which, of course, was obvious.They could easily smooth over the station-master with a five-poundnote.
There was no way of escape but by smashing open the door, an almostimpossible task; the window was barred, and the ceiling looked toostrong for escape by way of the roof. One thing only offered a way outand that was the fire-place, which George examined with interest. Itwas a fire-place with a very large grate, and an immense fire-guard ofclosely plaited wire surrounding it. George surveyed it quietly for afew moments, then collected an armful of brown paper and stuffed it inthe grate. Having seen that the trap was firmly pulled down to preventany smoke ascending the chimney, he sat down to await the arrival ofthe train.
He had not long to wait; in a few minutes he heard the signal bell go,and immediately afterwards the clanging of a hand-bell and thestentorian voice of a porter announcing the London train.
George struck a match quickly, applied it to the paper in the grate,closed the fire-guard to prevent any danger, and crouched down by thedoor. In less than half a minute a volume of rich smoke ascended to theceiling and began to pour through the fanlight.