by T. H. White
At two o'clock the guards changed over. Charles heard Kingdom whispering to Buller in the passage outside, and woke Wilder. In five minutes the house was still again.
The passage was L-shaped, leading at one end to a staircase, at the other to the upstairs morning-room which had another staircase beyond it. Down one side of the longer arm were four bedrooms. On the other side a series of large windows looked across a leaded roof to the sundial of the formal garden, and, beyond the garden, to the windows of the opposite wing. The back of Pemberley was shaped like an irregular U with a very long base.
Buller walked up and down this passage quietly. He was a man who gained in dignity by being alone. In the unwinking glare of the electric bulb and the stillness of the house, he seemed at home, and satisfied with his own devices. He walked along the passage steadily, halting opposite the pictures for a lengthy and attentive examination. He stopped opposite a lacquered cabinet, and, after a minute, put out his hand to stroke the surface. One could almost see him thinking. He read the titles of the prints, in French and English, and to whom they were dedicated. Opposite each of the family pictures, especially the women, he stood for a long time. Elizabeth's distinctive feature was her profile, and all of these were full face. He turned away from the last of them with the ghost of an untheatrical sigh. The Georgian grandfather downstairs boomed out the quarter and left an accentuated silence. Buller sat down in a brocaded chair and tapped his upper row of teeth with a fingernail.
Except for the tiny movement of his finger he was absolutely motionless, his eyes fixed in front of him on a pot of flowers. The clicking of the fingernail stopped, and he was listening. He stood up as the scream split the silence.
He was across the passage in two strides as a window in the opposite wing was thrown up.
The screams came in an unfaltering succession, like gasps for breath, but fierce and piercing.
Buller could see the bright square of the window opposite, framing the cook in a flannel nightgown, clutching the window ledge and panting between yells.
He threw open the door of Kingdom's room—the old man was already struggling with a dressing gown—and said quietly: "Stay here. Tell Dr. Wilder to stay with Sir Charles." Then he took to his heels. The lights sprang into being as he raced through the rooms. The cook's door was still locked when he reached it, with Smith outside holding a poker. He tapped, and said in a normal voice: "Open the door, Mrs. Bossom. It's all right." There was no reply.
He put his shoulder to the door and, taking the handle, drew back to the stretch of his arm. He grunted as he rammed it. The door shook. He drew back, and, with the heavy heel of his boot, kicked downwards and forwards at the lock. It was a beautiful kick and the door shuddered open, with bolt and lock wrenched away.
Mrs. Bossom was lying at the foot of the window in a tousled heap. He turned her over, felt her pulse, splashed cold water on her face. Mrs. Bossom began to mutter.
Buller stood up and looked at Smith. "Only a faint," he said. "Now why——"
Smith pointed at the end of the bed. An ancient and peaceful-looking skull was perched on one of the uprights.
Mrs. Bossom came to at that moment. Her first thoughts were of decorum. "What's this?" she said, and, struggling to her feet, invested herself in a quilted dressing gown. Buller had slipped the skull under the bedclothes.
"Why, Mrs. Bossom," he said cheerfully. "You screamed so, we thought you were being murdered. What was all the fuss about?"
Recollection came back to Mrs. Bossom.
"He's gone!" she said. "His teeth was gleaming from the grave!"
Buller said to Smith over his shoulder: "Get Mrs. Bossom a glass of brandy; and just slip over to the other wing and tell the others it's all right." Then he turned back to the cook.
"Now come, Mrs. Bossom," he said. "Somebody's been playing a joke on you. What happened?"
Mrs. Bossom said: "Oh, my poor heart! He was a dreadful one, I can tell you! I woke up in the dark of night feeling the cold of death upon me, and there he stood in all his cerements, a-gnashing of his teeth and glittering with his eyes."
Buller shook her by the shoulder.
"Wake up, cook," he said. "Don't tell me these fairy stories. You woke up and saw a skull. Here it is. Just an ordinary skull from the museum, with a printed ticket pasted on the top. Now tell me what you can remember?"
Mrs. Bossom eyed the exhibit with aversion, but seemed heartened. When Smith came with the brandy she was coherent and even vivacious.
"It was a little noise that woke me, I think," she said. "I took it for the clicking of his teeth, but it might have been that he was knocked against the bedrail. I'm a light sleeper. Then I sat up in bed and switched on the electric torch as Laura gave me for Christmas. The very first thing I caught in the beam was him,"—she nodded to the skull—"a-staring at me face to face, so to speak. So I turn on the lights, and he is still there. Then I run to the window and shout blue murder."
"Your door was locked and bolted when we came to it."
"I bolted it myself, sir, before I went to bed—and the window too, for I had to undo it with that thing a-grinning at me from behind. I thought he'd leap upon my back."
"You didn't see or hear anybody in the room when you switched on the torch?"
Mrs. Bossom was doubtful.
"Nothing that you could speak to. But I could take my Bible oath somebody'd been here. The darkness was a-moving."
Buller said: "Well, it's all over now. You'd better go and sleep with Laura. And, Smith, light fires in all these rooms, will you? Now, Mrs. Bossom, I must get back to see Miss Elizabeth. There's nothing more to be frightened about to-night."
Mrs. Bossom was declaring that she'd never sleep another wink when he departed.
*****
Buller found everybody awake when he got back. Kingdom was in the passage. Elizabeth was sitting with Wilder and Charles in the latter's room. She was in green pyjamas and a man's thick blue dressing gown.
Buller said heartily: "Well, how are the refugees?"
"Perishing and terrified," said Elizabeth. "What was it all about?"
"More fun and games. Our friend has just entered Mrs. Bossom's room with the door and window bolted and deposited one of the skulls from the museum (also locked and bolted, for I did it myself yesterday) on the bedrail. Mrs. Bossom is of a nervous temperament."
Charles had lost all his restless incredulity.
"I don't believe in ghosts," he said. "But you seem to have been right about this creature. How did he get in if everything was bolted?"
"In the same way," said Buller cheerfully, "as he got into Elizabeth's room last night. Now will you two keep in this room to-night, and get Kingdom to light a fire? I want to have a long talk with Wilder, and I don't know when I'll be back."
He took Wilder by the arm and led him into the passage. Then, instead of halting in the morning-room, he took him straight through and down into the hall.
"Get a coat," he said, "we're going for a walk."
They crossed the drive and made their way across the tennis courts to a green garden seat. The sky was a little lighter with the approach of dawn.
Buller said: "You were right about being overheard. Of course one can't be sure of saying a word in that house with secrecy. So I thought we'd better come outside. He can't get within range of this seat at any rate, without being seen."
"I gather that you suspect the chimneys?"
"Yes. Look at them."
Against the ever so faintly paler sky the four towers of brickwork were visible.
"It stands to reason. Up till now there's always been a door unlocked or a window open: always the chance that he may have got in by legitimate methods. But that cook's room was hermetically sealed, and yet he got into it. He must have got in by the only other entry, and that's the fireplace."
"I admit they're large," said Wilder.
"Large! Why the whole house was designed so that you could roast an ox in your bedroom. Even th
e tops haven't got pots on them. This is the only house I've ever believed in Father Christmas in."
"We ought to be able to catch him on the hop somehow, if we know where he is."
"That's just the trouble. You see we can't muster more than twenty beaters and there must be at least three times that number of fireplaces—not all of them negotiable, I admit. The fact is that the place is too much of a warren, even apart from the chimneys, for us to comb through properly. We should want three people to go up each of the four chimney stacks (to explore the side entries properly) besides a person in each room to see that he didn't bolt, and a complete ring round the house outside to pot him if he made for the roof. It's impossible without a regiment."
"Well, what's the object of this conference?"
"I was wondering if you could suggest anything. You see, now that he's located—unless we've guessed wrong—we have the chance of taking the initiative. This is the moment when we change defence into attack, if only we can think how."
"I have a friend near Manchester," said the surgeon slowly, "who is an experimental chemist working for the government. He's a good fellow and would trust me."
The two men drew at their pipes in silence.
"We can't use a real poison gas," said Buller eventually, "for we don't know where it will go to after it's been through the house. We don't want to wipe out the whole of Derby owing to a change of wind."
"No. We should have to use laughing gas, or tear gas, or something of that sort. Preferably something lighter than air. That would go up the chimneys well, and dissipate itself without spreading destruction or annoyance in the neighbourhood."
"Well," said Buller, "if you could go and see this fellow to-morrow?"
"I'm sure he'd give it me. We were in the same regiment."
"In the meantime it's vitally important that Mauleverer shouldn't smell a rat. We won't mention chimneys indoors, and we must be careful not to lower our voices if we want to say anything important. We just mustn't say it. Mauleverer must go on thinking he has us puzzled, and the more he eavesdrops the better, for we can fill him up with misleading information if the occasion arises. So can I leave it to you to tell Elizabeth"—the name slipped—"before you go to-morrow, and out of doors, what tack we're on? Give her the same instructions, and tell her not to act as if there was any suspicion of the chimneys. We'll discontinue this business of keeping fires going to-morrow morning. You can leave Charles to me. I shan't be able to whisper to him, for if Mauleverer overhears a whisper he may guess that we have reasons for whispering. I'll write my message to Charles and give it him with a finger on the lip. After all, even if chimneys are good places for acoustics you can't see from them."
As they rose to go indoors a figure detached itself from the bushes on their right.
"Whilst you gentlemen was talking," said the gamekeeper with a kindly smile, "I thought I'd keep an eye around in case of eavesdroppers."
CHAPTER XII
Next day Buller conveyed the news to Charles as he had said he would. Then, after luncheon, leaving Kingdom to keep his master company, he took Elizabeth into the garden.
As they walked towards the lake, the wildfowl left the lawn and took to the water, paddling distrustfully away towards the overhanging vegetation of the further shore.
"Wilder gave you my message before he went, didn't he?" he asked.
"Yes."
"There's one thing we can thank our stars about, and that's Mauleverer's vanity. He's set himself to break Charles's nerve before he finishes him off, and all this child's play with skulls and pictures on your looking-glass is calculated to do it. Fortunately he's given us time to locate him—for I'm sure I can't be wrong—before he's done any real harm. What I mean is that if he'd chosen to polish Charles off without a preliminary fanfare we wouldn't have stood a dog's chance. Now, as it stands, Wilder ought to be back before dinner with enough poison gas of one sort or another to clean the place up by to-morrow afternoon."
"Couldn't we use it to-night, as soon as he comes back?"
"I'm afraid it will be too dark. You see, we must do it by daylight so that if he bolts we can pot him."
"You aren't really going to kill him?"
"Yes. We are. Honestly, Miss Darcy, neither you nor your brother really believe in this man. You think to yourselves that a skull drawn in lipstick on a mirror and a practical joke played against your worthy cook are not sufficient reasons for panic. But I've seen three dead bodies behind him, and he's told me about them. He's having a preliminary flutter just now: a little harmless enjoyment before he comes to the big spectacle. And I honestly assure you that if we don't knock him off first your brother is as good as dead. Will you believe me?"
The urgency of Buller's pleading had brought them to a more intimate pitch than he could ever have reached on his own account.
Elizabeth said doubtfully: "Well, if you say so..."
"But I do," said Buller. "It's our only hope."
"I wouldn't believe anybody else."
The suddenness, and, as far as he could expect, patent hypocrisy of this statement threw Buller into confusion.
"Er—yes," he said. "Yes—quite." And then with a hurried change of topic: "The problem is how much the servants will stand for, and how much they can keep their mouths shut. When we do use this gas, whatever kind it may be, and supposing that Mauleverer does bolt—as I suppose he must—we shall have to have a cordon right round the house. Charles, Wilder, Smith, Kingdom, the gamekeeper, the gardeners and myself: we shall all have to be armed, and we shall have to shoot on sight. Will your people do that, and will they keep their mouths shut about it afterwards?"
"They'll do it, even if it's rank piracy. You see we have a very close feeling with what remains of the staff. They've all stayed with Charles, through his imprisonment and everything, and they all love him as a sort of martyr. When he came out of prison he got them all together, told them the story of the fat man in the night club, and offered them three months' wages if they wanted to leave. Those that will ever leave us left then. They'd do anything he asked them. As to their keeping their mouths shut afterwards, I don't know."
Buller said grimly: "The best reason for keeping one's mouth shut is self-interest. Once they'd helped in the hunt they'd have that, for they'd be accessories to the fact."
"I think it's very unfair on them," said Elizabeth.
"Not only is it unfair on them, but it's an act of banditry which may get me personally hanged. We've got to chance that."
Elizabeth said inadequately: "It's very sweet of you to stay and help. I'd much rather you didn't."
This also, together with the remark about not believing anybody else, Buller stored away in his bosom, to be puzzled over in the hours of night.
"The question of firearms is rather difficult," he said. "Wilder and I have got our revolvers, and I understand that Charles's father used to shoot big game. Smith could have one of the rifles and the gamekeeper—he'll be the marksman of the party—ought to have the other. Do you know, by any chance, whether Charles has a revolver for himself?"
"He has his army revolver somewhere."
"That's good. That means five of us will have something pretty lethal. The gardeners will have to carry the shotguns in case of accidents. Even then it's a difficult house to surround with such a small party. However, anything that gives Mauleverer a sporting chance is welcome in one way. My God, I do hope he'll put up a fight."
Elizabeth turned on him suddenly.
"Look here," she said. "If the gas does bolt him you've got to catch him alive. You can't kill him. I'd rather he killed Charles."
"But, Liz——" Her eyelids flickered. "But, Miss Darcy—— It would be suicide. What could we do with him if we did catch him? I assure you he wouldn't repent and promise to live happily ever afterwards. He'd be much more furious than ever. He'd never sleep again until he'd wiped off the defeat."
"I don't care," said Elizabeth, her chin sticking out defiantly. "I'd rather have
Charles murdered, and I'm sure he would too, than have the master of Pemberley taking to cowardly murder himself. If it's in self-defence that only makes it worse."
This side of the question struck Buller for the first time.
"Well——" he said.
Elizabeth went on excitedly.
"I'd rather," she said, "that you were murdering him for revenge or hatred, or just for fun, than that you should be compelled to kill him at a distance out of fear that he will kill you."
*****
When Wilder got back from Manchester in the evening he found Buller waiting for him in the Hall. They walked out into the twilight.
"He'll give it, all right," said the surgeon, "but he has to make it. He hasn't got any on hand. We shan't be able to use it before to-morrow afternoon. He's bringing it down himself by the first possible train."
Buller asked: "Is it a poison or an irritant?"
"It's an irritant of his own invention. In fact he invented it for us on the spot, this morning, when I outlined our requirements. By the way, I thought it only fair to tell him what it would be used for—I knew I could trust him—and he's completely callous. In fact, I think he's delighted to have a chance of human experiment. He says he's making some stuff which will go upwards, instead of rolling along the ground, and which won't go up too quick. Then there won't be any fear of damage in the neighbourhood."