What Timmy Did

by Marie Belloc Lowndes

  CHAPTER XXI

  Some three or four hours later, Miss Pendarth, attired in a queer kindof brown smock which fell in long folds about her tall, still elegantfigure, and with a gardening basket slung over her arm, stood by theglass door giving into her garden, when suddenly she heard a loud doubleknock on her stout, early Victorian knocker.

  She turned quickly into her morning room. Who could it be? She knew theknock and ring of each of her neighbours, and this was none of them.

  Her maid hurried out of the kitchen, and a moment later she heard a man'svoice exclaim: "Will you kindly give this note to Miss Pendarth? I willreturn for the answer in about an hour."

  Miss Pendarth knew the voice, and, stepping out of her morning room, shecalled out: "Come in just for a few minutes, Mr. Radmore."

  In the old days she had always called him "Godfrey," but when Timmy hadbrought him to call within a day or two of his return to Beechfield, shehad used the formal mode of address.

  Radmore had to obey her, willy-nilly, and as he came down the halltowards her, she was struck by the keenness and intelligence of hisdark face. She told herself grudgingly that he had certainly improvedamazingly, at any rate in outward appearance, during the last ten years.

  "Do let us go into your garden," he said courteously. "I hear that youare still Mrs. Tosswill's only rival!"

  She softened, in spite of herself. The Godfrey Radmore of ten years agowould not have thought of saying such a civil, pleasant thing.

  They walked through the glass door, and proceeded in silence down thepath. The herbaceous borders were in fuller beauty than anything the OldPlace garden could now show, but Radmore paid no further compliment, andit was she who broke the silence.

  "You must see amazing changes at Old Place," she said musingly. "The restof Beechfield has altered comparatively little, but Old Place is verydifferent, with George gone, and all those young people who were childrenwhen you went away, grown up. As for Timmy, he was little more than ababy ten years ago."

  "Timmy is my godson," said Radmore quickly. Her allusion to George hadcut him.

  Miss Pendarth turned on him rather sharply. "Of course I know that! Iremember his christening as if it was yesterday. It must be twelve orthirteen years ago. I can see you and Betty standing by the font--" andthen she stopped abruptly, while Radmore blushed hotly under his tan.

  He said hastily: "Timmy's a dear little chap, but I confess I can't makehim out sometimes."

  Miss Pendarth turned and looked at him. She knew everything there was toknow about Timmy Tosswill. His mother had early confided in her, and shenever spoke of the child to other people. Like so many gossips, whenreally trusted with a secret, Miss Pendarth could keep a confidence--nonebetter.

  But she felt that Godfrey Radmore was entitled to know the little shecould tell him, so "Timmy is a very queer child," she said slowly, "butI can't help thinking, Mr. Radmore--"

  "Do call me Godfrey," he exclaimed, and at once she went on:

  "Well, Godfrey, I think a certain amount of his oddity is owing to thefact that he's never been to school or mixed with other boys. I'm toldhe's a good scholar, but he's a shocking speller! Where's the good ofknowing Latin and Greek if you can't spell such a simple word aschocolate--he spells it 'chockolit.' Still, I'm bound to admit the childsees and foresees more than most human beings are allowed to see andforesee."

  And then, as Radmore remained silent, she went on: "Do you yourselfbelieve in all that sort of thing, Godfrey--I mean second sight, and soon?"

  Radmore answered frankly: "Yes, I think I do. I didn't before the War--Inever gave any thought to any of these subjects. But during the Warthings happened to me and to some of my chums which made me believe,in a way I never had believed till then, in the reality of another stateof being--I mean a world quite near to this world, one full of spirits,good and evil, who exercise a certain influence on the living."

  They had come to a circular stone seat which was much older even thanthis old garden, and Miss Pendarth motioned her visitor to sit down.

  "It isn't a new thing with Timmy," she said. "As a matter of fact, evenbefore you left Beechfield, Dr. O'Farrell regarded the child as being insome way abnormal."

  "D'you mean while he was still a baby?" asked Radmore.

  "Well, when he had just emerged from babyhood. But I doubt if anyone knewit but Timmy's parents, the doctor, myself, and yes, I mustn't forgetNanna. He was a very extraordinary little child. He spoke so very early,you know."

  "I do remember that."

  "Unfortunately," went on Miss Pendarth, "it's difficult to know whenTimmy is telling the truth, or what he believes to be the truth, abouthis gift. I think that often--and I know that Betty agrees with me--theboy invents all kinds of fantastic tales in order to impress the peopleabout him."

  "As far as I can make out," said Radmore slowly, "he's always told _me_the truth."

  "I'll tell you something curious that happened--let me see, about sevenyears ago. You remember an old man we used to call Gaffer John? He hadWood Cottage, and lived in a very comfortable sort of way."

  "Of course I remember Gaffer John! He was well over ninety when I leftBeechfield, and he had been valet years ago to one of Queen Victoria'scousins."

  "Yes, that's the man I mean. At last he was found dead in his chair. Hehad what was by way of being rather a grand funeral. Timmy, for somereason or other (I think he had a cold), wasn't allowed to attend thefuneral, and as he was set on seeing it, Janet said that he might comeand see it from one of my windows. Well, after the funeral was over, hestayed on with me for a few minutes, and suddenly he exclaimed: 'GafferJohn isn't dead at all, Miss Pendarth.' I naturally answered, 'Of coursehe is, Timmy. Why, we've just seen him buried.' And then he said: 'Don'tyou see him walking out there, along the road, quite plainly? He's behindan old gentleman dressed up for a fancy ball.' Then, Godfrey, the childwent on to describe the kind of uniform which would have been wornseventy years ago by a staff officer. I couldn't help being impressed, inspite of myself, for I'd never given Timmy the slightest encouragement totalk in that sort of way, and it's the only time he's ever done it, withme."

  "What does his mother really think of this queer power of his?" askedRadmore. "I've never liked to talk to her about it."

  "It's difficult to say. In some ways Janet Tosswill's a very reservedwoman. But I'll tell you another curious thing about the child."Instinctively she lowered her voice.

  "The day before poor George was killed, Timmy cried and cried and cried.It was impossible to comfort him--and he wouldn't give any reason for hisgrief. Both Janet and Betty were dreadfully upset. They thought he hadsome pain that he wouldn't tell them of, and they would have sent for Dr.O'Farrell, but they knew he was away, some miles off, at a very difficultcase. Betty actually came in and asked if _I_ would try to make him saywhat was the matter! But of course I could do nothing with him. I thinkyou know that he was passionately fond of George."

  "What does Dr. O'Farrell think of it all?"

  "He's convinced that Timmy has got a kind of peculiar, rare,thought-reading gift. He won't hear of its being in any sensesupernatural. I haven't spoken to him about it lately, but the last timehe mentioned the child, he told me he was sure that what he called theboy's 'subconscious self' would in time sink into its proper place."

  "I wonder if it will?" exclaimed Radmore. "I don't see why it should."

  "No, nor do I, excepting that, as time goes on, Timmy has become muchmore like a normal boy than he used to be. I'm convinced that very oftenhe pretends to see things that he doesn't see. He loves frightening thevillage people, for instance, and some of them are really afraid of him.They think he can heal certain simple ailments, and they're absolutelycertain that he can what they call 'blight' them!"

  "What a very convenient gift," observed Radmore drily. "I've known a goodmany people in my time I should have liked to 'blight'!"

  Even as he spoke, an unpleasant question was obtruding itself. Was itpossible that Timmy had a "scunn
er" against poor little Enid Crofton?

  "D'you think the child has a jealous disposition?" he asked abruptly.

  Miss Pendarth looked round at him, rather surprised by the question."He's never any occasion to be jealous," she said shortly. "Betty andJanet both worship him, and so does his old nurse. I don't think he caresfor anyone else in the world excepting these three. Perhaps I ought tomake an exception in _your_ favour--from what I'm told he cherishes aromantic affection for _you_."

  Miss Pendarth went on: "Mind you--I think there's often a touch of maliceabout the boy! Timmy wouldn't be at all averse to doing mischief toanyone he didn't like, or whom he thought ill of."

  "There are a good many grown-up people of whom one can say that,"observed Radmore.

  And then, almost as if the other had seen into his mind, Miss Pendarth,with a touch of significance in her voice, observed musingly: "I fancyTimmy doesn't much like the pretty young widow who has taken The TrellisHouse. The first evening Mrs. Crofton came to see the Tosswills, she gotan awful fright. Timmy's dog, Flick, rushed into the room and begansnarling and growling at her. There was a most disagreeable scene, andfrom what one of the girls said the other day, it seems to haveprejudiced the boy against her."

  Radmore looked straight into Miss Pendarth's face. Then she hadn't yetheard about last night?

  There was a slight pause.

  "Yes," said Radmore at last. "I'm afraid that Timmy does dislike Mrs.Crofton."

  "Perhaps," said Miss Pendarth slowly, "the boy has more reason to dislikeher than we know." As Radmore said nothing, she went on: "Mrs. Crofton isbehaving in a very wrong, as well as in a very unladylike, way with JackTosswill."

  Radmore moved uneasily in his seat. It was time for him to escape. Thiswas the Miss Pendarth of long ago--noted for the spiteful, dangerousthings she sometimes said.

  He got up. "Jack certainly goes to see her very often," he said, "but Idon't think that's her fault. Forgive me for saying so, Miss Pendarth,but you know what village gossip is?"

  "I'm afraid that she's giving Jack a great deal of deliberateencouragement. Even her servants believe that he regards himself asengaged to her."

  "What absolute nonsense!" exclaimed Radmore vigorously. "Why, if it comesto that, Rosamund's quite as much at The Trellis House as Jack is, andeven _I_ go there very often!"

  "Yes, I know you do; at one time you were first favourite," said MissPendarth coolly.

  She had never been lacking in courage.

  "And yet I can assure you," he exclaimed in a challenging tone, "that I,at any rate, am not at all in love with Mrs. Crofton."

  "Sit down, Godfrey. There's something I want to ask you."

  Unwillingly he obeyed.

  "I think you knew Colonel Crofton?"

  "Yes, and I liked him very much."

  "I'm afraid from what I've heard that she wasn't a particularly good wifeto him." Radmore was surprised at the feeling in her voice, but he askedhimself irritably how the devil had Miss Pendarth heard anything of theCroftons and their private affairs?

  He got up again, feeling vexed with himself for having come in to RoseCottage.

  She also rose from the stone seat.

  "Stop just one moment, Godfrey. I didn't realize that you knew Mrs.Crofton as well as you seem to do. I do beg of you to convey to her thatshe ought to be more prudent. I'm quite serious as to the talk about JackTosswill. They seem to have gone on a walk together yesterday afternoon,and the girl at the post-office, who is often sent long distances withtelegrams and messages, saw them in the North Wood kissing one another."

  Godfrey uttered an exclamation of surprise and disgust.

  How extraordinary that a woman of Miss Pendarth's birth and breedingshould listen to, and believe, low village gossip!

  "Really," he said at last, "that's too bad! I can't understand, MissPendarth, how you can believe such a story--" He nearly added, "or allowit to be told you!"

  "I wouldn't believe everybody," she said in a low voice, "but I dobelieve Jane Nichol. She's a sensible, quiet, reserved girl. She seems tohave passed quite close to them, but they were so absorbed in themselvesthat they didn't see her. She told no one but her aunt, and her aunt toldme. I'm sorry to say I do believe the story, and I think you will agreethat what may be sport to your pretty friend might mean lifelongbitterness to such a boy as Jack Tosswill." She added earnestly, "Can'tyou say just a word to her?"

  "Well, no, I don't see how I can! Still I promise you to try to do it ifI get the chance."

  He felt sharply disturbed and annoyed, and yet he didn't believe a wordof that vulgar story! Of course it was foolish of Enid Crofton to go fora long walk alone with Jack Tosswill. That sort of thing was bound tomake talk. What would the village people think if they knew how often he,Radmore, and Mrs. Crofton had dined and lunched together during the threeweeks that he had been there? Thank Heaven, they didn't know, and neverwould.

  "Did you ever read the report of the inquest on Colonel Crofton?" askedMiss Pendarth meaningly.

  "I hadn't the chance. I was still in Australia," he said shortly.

  "If you'll wait a moment I'll bring it to you," was the, to him,astonishing reply.

  Miss Pendarth walked off with her quick, light footsteps towards thehouse, and Radmore, gazing after her, told himself that she was indeeda strange woman. In some ways he had liked her far better to-day than hehad ever liked her before, but the low, silly bit of gossip she had justtold him filled him with disgust.

  Very soon she was back, holding in her hand a newspaper.

  An inquest of the kind that was held on Colonel Crofton is a godsend toany local sheet, and Radmore saw at a glance that this county paper hadmade the most of it.

  "Will you read it here, if you're not in a hurry? I don't want it takenaway; so while you're reading it, I'll go and do some potting overthere."

  She disappeared into a glass-house built across a corner of her garden,and he settled down to read the long newspaper columns.

  Soon his feeling quickened into intense interest. The local Essexreporter had a turn for descriptive writing, and, as he read, GodfreyRadmore saw the scene described rise vividly before him. He seemed tovisualise the intensely crowded little court-house, the kindly coroner,the twelve good men and true, and the motley gathering of small town andcountry folk drawn together in the hope of hearing something startling.

  Yet the facts were simple enough. Colonel Crofton had died from either anaccidental, or a deliberate, over-dose of strychnine. And his death hadbeen a terrible one.

  The outstanding points of interrogation were: Had he consciously addedto a tonic which he was taking an ounce or more of the deadly drug? Or,as some people were inclined to believe, had the local chemist by somemistake or gross piece of carelessness, put a murderous amount ofstrychnine into a mixture which had been prescribed for his customerabout a fortnight before?

  But for the fact that a bottle of nux vomica had been actually found onthe ledge of the dead man's dressing-room window, it would have gone hardwith the chemist. But there the bottle had been found, and in herevidence, evidently given very clearly and simply, Mrs. Crofton hadexplained that, during the war, while in Egypt, she had palpitations ofthe heart, and so many drops of diluted strychnine had been ordered her.

  When asked why there was so large a bottle full of the deadly stuff, shehad answered that it had come from the Army Stores, where they always didthings in a big and generous way. At that there had been laughter inCourt.

  Mrs. Crofton had further explained that, as a matter of fact, she hadbrought the bottle back to England without really knowing that she haddone so; and that she had never given it a thought till it had beenfound, as described, after her husband's death, by the doctor who hadbeen called in to attend Colonel Crofton in his agonizing seizure.

  One thing stated by Mrs. Crofton much surprised Radmore. She hadasserted, quite definitely, that her husband had suffered fromshell-shock. That Radmore believed to be quite untrue.

  With qui
ckened, painful interest he read her account of how odd and howcranky Colonel Crofton had become when wholly absorbed in his hobby ofbreeding wire-haired terriers. How, when one of his dogs had failed towin a prize, he would go about muttering to himself, and visiting hisannoyance and disappointment on those about him.

  She had drawn a sad picture of the last long months of their joint lifetogether and Radmore began to feel very, very sorry for her.... What anawful ordeal the poor little woman had gone through!

  The doctor's evidence made painful reading, but what had really clinchedthe matter was the evidence of one Piper, the Croftons' general odd manand trusted servant. He had been Colonel Crofton's batman during part ofthe war, and was evidently much attached to him. When Piper repeated thewords in which his master had once or twice threatened to take his ownlife, his evidence had obviously made a strong impression on both coronerand jury.

  Radmore remembered Piper with a faint feeling of dislike. It was Piperwho had prepared the puppy, Flick, for the cross-country journey toBeechfield, and Radmore had given the man a handsome tip for all thetrouble he had taken.

  Yes, he had not liked Piper; so much he remembered. He had thought theman self-assertive, over self-confident, while disagreeably cringing inmanner.

  He read through the coroner's charge, which was given fully, veryattentively. It was quite clear that the coroner was strongly biased,if one could put it that way, in Mrs. Crofton's favour. He had spokentouchingly of the difficult time the poor young lady had had with herhusband. Then he had recalled that the Colonel's own favourite terrier,Dandy, on which he had built great hopes, had only been commended,instead of winning, as he had hoped, the first prize at an importantshow, and that had thoroughly upset him. Indeed, according to Piper'sevidence, he had used the exaggerated phrase, "My life is no longer worthliving." Finally the coroner had touched lightly, but severely, onevidence tendered by a spiteful ex-woman-servant of the Croftons who haddrawn a very unpleasant picture of the relations existing between thehusband and wife.

  Yet when the verdict of _felo de se_ had been returned, there had beenmurmurs in Court, at once sharply checked by the coroner.

  Radmore felt surprised. Surely everyone present should have rejoiced fromevery point of view. Had a different verdict been returned, it would haveput the unfortunate chemist in a very difficult position, and mighteasily have ruined his business.

  Though Radmore was grateful to Miss Pendarth for allowing him to read thereport, it had an effect very different from that she had intended, forit made him pity Mrs. Crofton intensely. Somehow he had never realisedwhat a terrible ordeal the poor little woman had been through.