The Intrepid Miss Haydon

by Alice Chetwynd Ley

  She reached Madeleine’s cottage at last and knocked timidly on the door.

  There was no answer. She could see a glimmer of light from behind the shutters of the window, so knew someone must be within.

  She knocked a second time, more loudly. A few moments elapsed before the door was cautiously opened a crack.

  A boy appeared behind it, clad in a rough suit of fustian. He stared at the visitor for a moment, then uttered a glad cry and opened the door wider to admit her.

  “Corinna! You have come, after all! Oh, my dear, I am so glad!”

  Corinna realised with amazement that the boy was none other than Madeleine.

  The door was quickly shut and Corinna guided to a chair. No one else was in the room.

  “I feared you could not come, since it’s already ten o’clock, and I knew it would be difficult for you, at best. You may easily be driven back by the boy who is to take me to Birling Gap in a mule cart,” Madeleine said. “I dare say you would prefer it to walking home in the dark unaccompanied? You have but to wait here until he returns from taking me. He’s to come shortly at half past ten, and should be back well within the hour. What do you say?”

  “I think perhaps I would prefer it, even though it means I shan’t be home until close on midnight. But why is not your cousin himself coming to fetch you?”

  “Because he had to arrange for a rowing boat to be in readiness at Birling Gap to take us out to the smuggling vessel. Jacques will meet me at the Gap just before eleven, and conduct me down the cliff path to the boat. There is to be another man to assist him with the rowing, and Jacques will leave me in his charge while he himself goes back up the cliff to collect his important passenger who will arrive later. He arranged it in this way so that the other passenger might not set eyes on me until we were all afloat. I think he doubted I would pass muster, even in my present disguise.”

  “It looks convincing enough to me,” said Corinna, eyeing her friend critically. “I did not recognise you when you first came to the door! But, Madeleine, there is something I must tell you — indeed, I’ve been waiting anxiously to see you all day! It concerns this passenger your cousin is to take to France, and whom you suspected was the same man who arrived secretly at Mr Grenville’s house.”

  Madeleine regarded her sharply. “You knew something of that one, but you would not tell me, Corinna. Have you now changed your mind?”

  Corinna said that she had, and proceeded to tell the whole story as briefly as possible.

  “You perceive my quandary,” she concluded. “This man whom Mr Grenville declares is a spy for my country may well be quite otherwise, judging by what I learned from Sir Richard. This could mean that Mr Grenville himself has been taken in, or that—”

  “That he was lying to you,” Madeleine finished for her.

  “Yes, and that would make him—” she broke off, unwilling to put it into words. “But ought I to have told Sir Richard?” she continued unhappily. “If important defence papers are to be out of the country, some action must be taken, and yet I cannot be sure — oh, Madeleine, what ought I to do?”

  Madeleine considered for a moment.

  “This I can tell you; Sir Richard knows you were keeping something back, for he came to question me about it yesterday evening.”

  Corinna started. “Richard came here to see you?”

  “I, too, was surprised. He urged me to divulge anything you might have confided to me of the matter, for he feared it could bring you into danger. Of course, I knew nothing, and told him I would not have betrayed your confidence in any case. But I did mention to him my own suspicions. He then insisted on talking to my cousin. I was afraid to involve Jacques, but while I was hesitating, my cousin himself arrived here, and they met.”

  “What did he want with your cousin?”

  “I cannot say, for Jacques sent me from the room. They fought at first, but afterwards all seemed well. What I do think, though, Corinna, is that Sir Richard and Jacques have come to some agreement, perhaps made some plan,” she added shrewdly. “Jacques would tell me nothing beyond that Sir Richard will not jeopardise our escape, and that he — Jacques — will remain in France with me. For that I am profoundly grateful to your Sir Richard, for I think he must have persuaded Jacques to it.”

  Corinna could say nothing for a moment. She was quite overcome by what she had just heard; but a feeling of relief gradually crept over her. If Madeleine’s cousin had shared his knowledge of these illicit dealings with Sir Richard, then perhaps she had no further need for anxiety.

  Madeleine drew a borrowed fob watch from her pocket, consulted it, then uttered a distressed exclamation.

  “He’s ten minutes late! And Jacques said I must be there by eleven sharp! What shall I do, Corinna, if he does not come?”

  Corinna could not imagine, but she did her best to allay her friend’s fears.

  “Be sure the boy will arrive in a few minutes,” she said soothingly. “I tell you what, my dear, why should I not accompany you in the cart, instead of waiting here alone? In that way we could be together until the actual moment of your departure. And there’s still so much I wish to say to you!”

  They had scarcely agreed on this when they heard the rumble of wheels outside, followed by a knock on the door. Madeleine opened it at once, to see with heartfelt relief a boy looking very much like herself, only a trifle dirtier, standing on the doorstep.

  She scolded him in a low voice for his dilatoriness while she handed him her small carpetbag and made haste to climb with Corinna into the cart. They moved off at once, the mule plodding along at little more than a walking pace.

  By now, it was fully dark, with the sky still overcast and no stars to be seen. A small lantern was fixed in the cart so that the two passengers, uncomfortably crouched on the floor together, could faintly see each other’s faces.

  “This reminds me of our voyage from France,” said Corinna, with a nervous low-pitched laugh. “How short a time we’ve known each other, Madeleine, yet it seems like a lifetime! And now it may be years before we can meet again, without even the pleasure of keeping up a correspondence. But I will not be gloomy,” she continued resolutely, “for you are to marry the man you love, and live in your own country — and with your cousin there, too, safe from the dangers he must have faced eventually, had he remained here to follow that abominable trade. And you say this was by Richard’s contriving?”

  “I am almost certain of it, by what Jacques hinted. He is one to keep his own counsel, my cousin, but that is understandable, n’est-ce pas? Your Sir Richard is a gentleman to be relied upon in all things, I think.”

  “I don’t know why you keep referring to him as my Sir Richard,” objected Corinna.

  “Because he is yours, oh, but completely, chérie! Do not pretend that you are ignorant of it.”

  “I can’t think what you mean.” Madeleine saw by the faint light from the lantern that her friend’s face was flushed. “He is a good friend of all my family.”

  “Friendship, bah! He loves you to distraction — I can tell you, moi, for I know what it is to love! And I think perhaps you are not totally indifferent to him, in spite of fancying yourself in love with that Mr Grenville, who is not fitted to clean Sir Richard’s boots,” declared Madeleine roundly.

  Corinna was silent for a moment. Her friend wondered if she had gone too far, but did not relent. Since they were to part at the end of this short journey, she felt she must make some push to assure Corinna’s future happiness; of one thing she was convinced, it certainly did not lie with the villainous Grenville.

  “I may as well tell you all that is long since past,” said Corinna, breaking the silence. “If I admit the truth, indeed, I think it was no more than a passing fancy. But as to Richard — oh, I don’t know, my dear! I fear you may be mistaken about his feelings towards me — we do nothing but quarrel when we’re together, though I freely admit that’s my fault, not his. I must have long since given him a disgust of me! And then there
is Miss Cheveley, you know. She’s so agreeable, not at all like myself — and he’s been visiting her home frequently of late.”

  “Bah! It is you he loves,” stated Madeleine firmly. “As for you, Corinna, I think you should ask yourself just why it is you take a perverse pleasure in quarrelling with him. But all that will arrange itself, my dear, and someday — alas, perhaps a long time off! — I may learn that you’ve found happiness together.”

  They clung together wordlessly for a moment, scarcely noticing when the cart came to a standstill. A dark figure loomed suddenly over them.

  “You are late.”

  Madeleine recognised her cousin’s voice, and detached herself from her friend’s embrace. He stared angrily at Corinna.

  “What madness is this? Why have you brought Miss Haydon here?”

  “I am to blame,” said Corinna. “I went to bid good-bye to Madeleine not long before the cart arrived for her, and I thought I might as well come, too, since I’m to return home in it.”

  “You are too venturesome, mademoiselle,” he said severely, helping Madeleine down. “You must return home at once.”

  He lifted his cousin’s baggage out of the cart and was about to turn away when Corinna stretched out her arm to him.

  “Help me down, please. I won’t stay a moment, I promise, but I want to watch her go—”

  He looked as though he would refuse, then shrugged, and helped her to the ground.

  “If you must, though it’s too dark for you to see us for more than a few yards down the cliff. But pay attention, and don’t linger here. You, boy, help the lady back into the cart as soon as I’ve gone, and then drive her smartly to Friston House. Understood?”

  The lad nodded, and Jacques pressed some money into his hand. Then he turned to Madeleine, who was clasped in Corinna’s arms. At this final moment of parting, they could find no words to say.

  “Come, little one,” said Jacques gently. “We must go at once, and so must your friend, else she’ll be in grave danger. Good-bye, mademoiselle. Thank you for all you have done for my cousin. Perchance you two may meet again — who knows?”

  Madeleine released Corinna and took her cousin’s arm.

  “God bless you, my dear, dear friend,” she said in a broken voice.

  “Safe journey, my love — be happy.”

  Corinna’s tones were no steadier than Madeleine’s.

  She moved to the edge of the cliff, watching as the others began their descent; but tears dimmed her straining eyes and the surrounding darkness soon swallowed up the shadowy forms.

  Still she stood there, staring down the dark cliff to the grey luminosity of the sea at its foot, pounding remorselessly against the pebbly beach.

  That sea would divide them now, perhaps forever.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  At about the same time that Corinna was attempting to steal from the house to meet Madeleine, Sir Richard had surreptitiously entered the grounds of Eastdean Place.

  He had learnt enough from Jacques Fougeray last night to confirm his suspicions of Grenville’s real activities, and to convince him that the man being harboured by Grenville was the wanted French spy. Since the proper authorities could not be alerted until Madeleine was safe away, it was Sir Richard’s intention to carry out the arrest himself. Fougeray had promised assistance, having no political involvement with either country, but feeling that he owed some return to Sir Richard. They had laid plans to take the spy at the rendezvous at Birling Gap, when he would be alone.

  It was another purpose which had brought Sir Richard here at this hour. Even more important than the capture of the spy was the recovery of the important documents he had stolen. If all went well later, this should be achieved, for the man would be carrying them with him. But this was to hazard all on one throw of the dice, which was not Sir Richard’s way. It was reasonable to suppose that the spy would have concealed the papers somewhere in his room until the moment of departure. Sir Richard intended to effect an entry and search that room.

  He was not himself familiar with Grenville’s house and grounds, but he had learnt a good deal in this way from Laurence while the latter had been keeping watch there. After circling the house stealthily, paying particular attention to the servants’ quarters on the ground floor at the back, his patience was rewarded by the discovery of a window left slightly open at the top, in a room near the kitchens.

  He quietly eased the window down sufficiently to admit his by no means slight form, finding a foothold on a shelf inside. His boot squelched in some slippery substance on a dish which clattered as he stepped on it. Removing the shutter from a dark lantern he was carrying, he saw that the substance was a blancmange, now a shapeless mess. He grimaced, prudently clearing a space on which to plant the other foot before stepping down on to the floor. Evidently this was the larder.

  He pushed open the door, emerging into an unlit passage which he soon discovered led to the kitchens in one direction and the servants’ back staircase in the other.

  He stood at the foot of the staircase, listening for a moment. Hearing nothing, he allowed himself a brief survey of the stairs before closing the shutter over his lantern and ascending in the dark to the second landing. The passage here was lit, so greater caution was needed. Madeleine had told him that the spy’s bedchamber was situated on this floor, the first door on the right opposite the backstairs. He located it easily, but halted on the top stair before crossing to it.

  It was as well he did so, for just as he was about to dart towards it, he heard voices approaching from a bend in the passage farther along. Quickly he retreated halfway down the staircase, lying flat against the banister railings, trusting to the darkness for concealment. He set down the lantern on a lower stair and drew a pistol from his pocket.

  The voices came nearer until they materialised into two men who halted outside the spy’s room. One was Grenville, the other a short, thickset man with a French accent. They had evidently been arguing, for Grenville’s voice was querulous.

  “No, damned if I’ll come down to the Gap with you — where’s the point? Everything’s fixed right and tight, and my part’s done — I want no more of it, I can tell you!”

  “You’ll come, mon vieux,” replied the other in a threatening tone. “If anything goes wrong, I want you there to answer for it.”

  “What the devil d’ you mean? This fellow Jack’s arrangements never go wrong — he’s fixed up scores of crossings. Don’t mind telling you I’m sick to death of the business — wish I’d never been fool enough to get involved!”

  “But you are involved and don’t you forget it. We go together to this Birling Gap, and we’ll get there earlier than arranged, too. We’ll set out at, say, a quarter to eleven since it will be wiser to go on foot.”

  Grenville was still protesting as the Frenchman opened the door of the room and pushed him inside.

  As it closed behind them, Sir Richard cursed his luck. This alteration in timing could well throw out the plans he and Fougeray had made. If this precious pair set out at a quarter to eleven, they would reach the Gap not more than ten minutes past the hour. And Fougeray had arranged for Madeleine to be there at eleven o’clock, so that he could have her safely stowed away in the boat before trouble started. Now it looked as if Fougeray would have to hustle to get the girl away and return in time to assist at the spy’s arrest. The worst of it was, he knew nothing of the change in time.

  It looked as though the Frenchman’s chances of escape were somewhat higher than they had bargained for; which made it more than ever advisable to lay hands on those papers at once. The devil of it was, he thought, the two might remain in the spy’s room until they were ready to set out, thus depriving him of any chance to search it.

  But then the door of the spy’s room opened and both men emerged.

  “Time for a glass of brandy before we go,” he heard the Frenchman say. “Devilish cold out at sea — a man needs something to warm him.”

  They moved brisk
ly off by the way they had come. Sir Richard waited until they were out of sight round the bend in the passage; then moved quietly, pistol in one hand and the lantern in the other, up the stairs and into the room opposite.

  It was, as he had expected, unlit, so he had recourse to his lantern. He surveyed the room. All traces of occupation had been removed apart from a small travelling bag which stood on a chair near the door, as if ready to be snatched up when its owner was leaving the house. This looked the most promising place to start.

  He opened the bag, which was unlocked, and went carefully through the contents. There was very little, and nothing unexpected. Disappointed, he removed everything carefully on to the floor, then examined the actual lining of the bag. After a few moments, he gave a satisfied grunt. He had discovered a false bottom to the bag.

  He lifted the lid, disclosing inside a number of small documents.

  He took these out with an exhilaration which quickly evaporated as he subjected them to a quick scrutiny. The defence papers were not among them.

  Nevertheless, they were of some value. Even the superficial scanning he was able to give to them showed that they contained information for the French agent’s use which would prove of interest to the English authorities. He folded them to a size convenient for stowing away in his pockets. That done, he repacked the bag exactly as he had found it.

  He was opening the door to step out into the passage when he heard footsteps approaching. He closed the door quickly, looking around the room for somewhere to hide in case anyone should enter. Seeing another door in the opposite wall, he darted across, pulled it open, and found himself in a small closet. Once inside, he darkened his lantern, but had not quite enough time to close the door completely before someone bearing a candlestick entered the room.