The Firm of Girdlestone

by Arthur Conan Doyle

  CHAPTER XLVII.

  LAW AND ORDER.

  The ruffian Burt was so horror-stricken at the sight of the girl whom heimagined that he had murdered, that he lay grovelling on the railwaylines by the side of his victim, moaning with terror, and incapable ofany resistance. He was promptly seized by the major's party, and theNihilist secured his hands with a handkerchief so quickly andeffectively that it was clearly not the first time that he had performedthe feat. He then calmly drew a very long and bright knife from therecesses of his frock-coat, and having pressed it against Burt's nose toensure his attention, he brandished it in front of him in a menacingway, as a hint that an attempt at escape might be dangerous.

  "And who is dis?" asked Baumser, lifting up the dead woman's head, andresting it upon his knee.

  "Poor girl! She will niver spake again, whoever she may have been," themajor said, holding the lantern to her cold pale face. "Here's wherethe cowards struck her. Death must have been instantaneous andpainless. I could have sworn it was the young lady we came afther, ifit were not that we have her safe down there, thank the Lord!"

  "Vere are those oders?" asked Von Baumser, peering about through thedarkness. "If dere is justice in de country, dey vill hang for the workof dis night."

  "They are off," the major answered, laying the girl's head reverentlydown again. "It's hopeless to follow them, as we know nothing of thecounthry, nor which direction they took. They ran like madmen.Hullo! What the divil can this be?"

  The sight which had attracted the veteran's attention was nothing lessthan the appearance at the end of the lane of three brilliant luminousdiscs moving along abreast of one another. They came rapidly nearer,increasing in brilliancy as they approached. Then a voice rang out ofthe darkness, "There they are, officers! Close with them! Don't let'em get away!" And before the major and his party could quite grasp thesituation they were valiantly charged by three of those much-enduring,stout-hearted mortals known as the British police force.

  It takes courage to plunge into the boiling surf and to carry the ropeto the breaking vessel. It takes courage to spring from the ship's sideand support the struggling swimmer, never knowing the moment at which aflickering shadow may appear in the deep green water, and the tiger ofthe deep turn its white belly upwards as it dashes on its prey.There is courage too in the infantryman who takes a sturdy grip of hisrifle and plants his feet firmly as he sees the Lancers sweeping down onhis comrades and himself. But of all these types of bravery there isnone that can compare with that of our homely constable when he finds onthe dark November nights that a door on his beat is ajar, and, listeningbelow, learns that the time has come to show the manhood that is in him.He must fight odds in the dark. He must, single-handed, cage updesperate men like rats in a hole. He must oppose his simple weapon tothe six-shooter and the life-preserver. All these thoughts, and theremembrance of his wife and children at home, and of how easy it wouldbe not to observe the open door, come upon him, and then what does hedo? Why, with the thought of duty in his heart, and his little cudgelin his hand, he goes to what is too often his death, like a valianthigh-minded Englishman, who fears the reproach of his own consciencemore than pistol bullet, or bludgeon stroke.

  Which digression may serve to emphasize the fact that these three burlyHampshire policemen, having been placed upon our friends' track by theostler of the _Flying Bull_, and having themselves observed manoeuvreswhich could only be characterized as suspicious, charged down with suchvehemence, that in less time than it takes to tell it, both Tom and themajor and Von Baumser were in safe custody. The Nihilist, who had anunextinguishable hatred of the law, and who could never be brought tounderstand that it might under any circumstances be on his side, pulledhimself very straight and held his knife down at his hip as though hemeant to use it, while Bulow, of Kiel, likewise assumed an aggressiveattitude. Fortunately, however, the appearance of their prisoners and afew hurried words from the major made the inspector in charge understandhow the land lay, and he transferred his attention to Burt, on whosewrists he placed the handcuffs. He then listened to a more detailedaccount of the circumstances from the lips of the major.

  "Who is this young lady?" he asked, pointing to Kate.

  "This is the Miss Harston whom we came to rescue, and for whom no doubtthe blow was intended which killed this unhappy girl."

  "Perhaps, sir," said the inspector to Tom, "you had better take her upto the house."

  "Thank you," said Tom, and went off through the wood with Kate upon hisarm. On their way, she told him how, being unable to find her bonnetand cloak, which Rebecca had abstracted, she had determined to keep herappointment without them. Her delay rendered her a little late,however; but on reaching the withered oak she heard voices and steps infront of her, which she had followed. These had led her to the opengate, and the lighting of the lantern had revealed her to friends andfoes. Ere she concluded her story Tom noticed that she leaned more andmore heavily upon him, until by the time that they reached the Priory hewas obliged to lift her up and carry her to prevent her from falling.The hardships of the last few weeks, and this final terrible and yetmost joyful incident of all, had broken down her strength. He bore herinto the house, and laying her by the fire in the dining-room, watchedtenderly over her, and exhausted his humble stock of medical knowledgein devising remedies for her condition.

  In the meantime the inspector, having thoroughly grasped the major'slucid narrative, was taking prompt and energetic measures.

  "You go down to the station, Constable Jones," he ordered. "Wire toLondon, 'John Girdlestone, aged sixty-one, and his son, agedtwenty-eight, wanted for murder. Address, Eccleston Square andFenchurch Street, City.' Send a description of them. 'Father, six feetone inch in height, hatchet-faced, grey hair and whiskers, deep-seteyes, heavy brows, round shoulders. Son, five feet ten, dark-faced,black eyes, black curly hair, strongly made, legs rather bandy, welldressed, usually wears a dog's head scarf-pin.' That ought to do!"

  "Yes, that's near enough," observed the major.

  "Wire to every station along the line to be on the look-out. Send adescription to the chief constable of Portsmouth, and have a watch kepton the shipping. That should catch them!"

  "It vill," cried Von Baumser confidentially. "I'll bet money dat itvill." It was as well that the German's sporting offer found no takers,otherwise our good friend would have been a poorer man.

  "Let us carry the poor soul up to the house," the inspector continued,after making careful examination of the ground all round the body.

  The party assisted in raising the girl up, and in carrying her backalong the path by which she had been brought.

  Burt tramped stolidly along behind with the remaining policeman besidehim. The Nihilist brought up the rear with his keen eye fixed upon thenavvy, and his knife still ready for use. When they reached the Priorythe prisoner was safely locked away in one of the numerous empty rooms,while Rebecca was carried upstairs and laid upon the very bed which hadbeen hers.

  "We must search the house," the inspector said; and Mrs. Jorrocks havingbeen brought out of her room, and having forthwith fainted and beenrevived again, was ordered to accompany the police in theirinvestigation, which she did in a very dazed and stupefied manner.Indeed, not a word could be got from her until, entering thedining-room, she perceived her bottle of Hollands upon the table, onwhich she raised up her voice and cursed the whole company, from theinspector downwards, with the shrillest volubility of invective.Having satisfied her soul in this manner, she wound up by a perfectshriek of profanity, and breaking away from her guardians, she regainedthe shelter of her room and locked herself up there, after which theycould hear by the drumming of her heels that she went into a violenthysterical attack upon the floor.

  Kate had, however, recovered sufficiently to be able to show the policethe different rooms, and to explain to them which was which.The inspector examined the scanty furniture of Kate's apartment withgreat interest.

  "You say yo
u have been living here for three weeks?" he said.

  "Nearly a month," Kate answered.

  "God help you! No wonder you look pale and ill. You have a fineprospect from the window." He drew the blind aside and looked out intothe darkness. A gleam of moonlight lay upon the heaving ocean, and inthe centre of this silver streak was a single brown-sailed fishing-boatrunning to the eastward before the wind. The inspector's keen eyerested upon it for an instant, and then he dropped the blind and turnedaway. It never flashed across his mind that the men whom he was huntingdown could have chosen that means of escape, and were already beyond hisreach.

  He examined very carefully the rooms of Ezra and of his father.Both had been furnished comfortably, if not solidly, with springmattresses to their beds and carpets upon the floor. The young man'sroom had little in it beyond the mere furniture, which was natural, ashis visits were so short. In the merchant's chamber, however, were manybooks and papers. On the little square table was a long slip offoolscap covered with complex figures. It appeared to be a statement ofhis affairs, in which he had been computing the liabilities of the firm.By the side of it was a small calf-bound diary. The inspector glancedover one of the pages and uttered an exclamation of disgust. "Here aresome pretty entries," he cried. "'Feel the workings of grace withinme!' 'Prayed that I might be given a livelier interest in the HolyScriptures!' The book's full of that sort of thing!" he added, turningover the leaves. "The fellow seems to have played the hypocrite evenwith himself, for he could never have known that other eyes would restupon this."

  "Dere'll be some queer company among de elect if he is dere!" VonBaumser remarked.

  "What's all this?" asked the inspector, tumbling a heap of clothes outof the corner with his foot. "Why, here's a monk's dress!"

  Kate sprang forward at the words. "Then I did see him!" she cried."I had almost persuaded myself that it was a dream."

  "What was that?"

  Kate told her story as well as she could, and the inspector made notesof it.

  "The crafty old dog!" he cried. "No doubt he could reconcile it withhis conscience more easily to frighten you to death than to actuallykill you. He told you that cock-and-a-bull story to excite yourimagination, and then, feeling sure that you would sooner or later tryand escape by night, he kept guard in this rig. The only wonder is thathe didn't succeed in either killing you or driving you mad with fright."

  "Never mind now, dear," Tom whispered, as he saw the look of fear springinto her eyes at the recollection of what had passed. "Don't think ofthese terrible things. You will soon be safe in Phillimore Gardens inmy mother's arms. In the meanwhile, I think you would be the better forsome sleep."

  "I think I should, Tom."

  "Are you afraid to sleep in your own room?"

  "No; I am afraid of nothing, now that I know you are near me. I knew sowell that you would come. I have been expecting you all the evening."

  "I can never thank my good friends here enough for the help which theyhave given me!" Tom exclaimed, turning to his companions.

  "It is I who should thank them," said Kate earnestly, "I have foundfriends, indeed. Who can say now that the days of chivalry are past?"

  "Me dear young lady," the major answered, bowing with all the innategrace of an Irish gentleman, "ye have warmed us by what ye say.I personally was, as ye know, under orders which left me no choice butto come. I hope, however, that ye will believe that had Mrs. Scully notoccupied the place in me affections which she does, I should still be asprompt as me friends here to hasten to the rescue of a lady.Tobias Clutterbuck may be ould, Miss Harston, but his heart will nivergrow so hardened but that it will milt at the thought of beauty indistriss." With this beautiful sentiment the major placed his fat handover his heart, and bowed again, even more gracefully than before.The three foreigners behind made no remark, but they all stood in a linegrinning in a most amicable fashion, and nodding their heads as if tointimate that the major was expressing their united sentiments to anicety. Kate's last recollection of that eventful evening was thesmiling visages of Von Baumser, Bulow, and the nameless Russian as theybeamed their good night at her.