This was empty, and, now that I could see all around, seemed like the pleasance of some god-philosopher, whence he could watch and contemplate the world. The place did not seem like a roof, but like a gigantic terrace, hung in the air. Even the chimney-stacks could not disturb this illusion, for they had no chimney-pots and might have been great pedestals ready for statuary which had not yet been done. Indeed, the extraordinary prospect troubled my head, and I felt suddenly dizzy and the palms of my hands grew wet.
The sun was high now, and the shadow of the southeast tower lay sharp upon the flags. The stacks, too, threw their shadows and the battlements made a pattern along the side.
As I was peering, I heard the hollow clap of the castle gate . . . .
A moment later we were standing by the door of the south-east tower.
“I’m afraid I can’t tell you,” I breathed, “which room they’ll be in; but I think you’ll find it leads out of the ‘gallery of stone.’”
The bookseller nodded, and I put out my hand.
This seemed to please him, for he took it in both of his. Then he put his mouth to my ear.
“I go,” he whispered, “to betray the violator of Gath.”
Then he adjusted his spectacles, nodded, smiled and disappeared.
Now, if I had had a pistol, I should have stayed by the door, to kill Rose Noble as he stepped on to the roof. But my pistol had been taken, and Casemate had carried no arms. I certainly had my knife, but I dared not trust my handling of such a weapon to make an end of such a man. I have often thought since that here I made a mistake and that I should have stabbed the monster as he came out of the door, but up to that day I had never done any worse violence than knock a man down with my fist, and I was frankly afraid of making a mess of the business and thereby wrecking the ship which I was trying to steer.
I, therefore, whipped to the nearest chimney-stack and crouched, with this between me and the southeast tower. This stack was to be my shield. As Rose Noble came by, I would move, keeping it always directly between him and me, and, when he was by, I would dash for the south-east tower. Once within, I had but to shut the door and shoot the bolts to bring us over the bar which had balked us so long. The rest would be child’s play. If five men armed could not break out at their pleasure . . . . It occurred to me suddenly that, if there was no way by the chapel, Mansel would bring out Adèle through the Dining-room floor.
Looking back, I find it curious that I should have had no doubt that Rose Noble would come up to the roof. That nine men out of ten would have done so is nothing at all. Rose Noble was the tenth man in all that he did. I cannot pay him a higher compliment. Yet I never had any doubt that, once my decoy was in action, our enemy would fall into the pit which I had digged. I was certain of this as if I had seen it written among the orders of Fate. This by the grace of God, for upon that certainty was founded the whole of my simple plan and, had I stopped to consider how bold was my postulate, I am sure that my judgment would have faltered and that I should have abandoned my design as out of reason.
Rose Noble came up quietly, without any haste. Had I not been expecting to hear them, I should not have heard his steps. I had thought that he would come running crying for Punter or Bunch. But he did not. Rather he seemed to be prowling, like some suspicious beast.
For a moment he paused on the opposite side of my stack, for all the world as though he had heard me move. Then he went on his way to the south-west tower.
I let him take ten paces. Then I rounded the stack and made my dash for the door.
And here, I think, my heart stood suddenly still.
The door was shut; and when I lifted the latch, I found it was barred.
For an instant I stared at it blankly. Then the truth rose up in a blinding flash.
Knowing nothing of me, Mansel had followed Rose Noble up the stair and had played my hand before I could play it myself.
The game was won—over: Adèle was saved; Rose Noble had been “caught bending”; and so had I.
A slight noise made me look round.
Rose Noble was standing, glaring, six paces away.
His face was working and his hand in his jacket- pocket was twitching with wrath. I think that he would have spoken, for twice he opened his mouth; but his fury must have choked him, for, though he gaped upon me, the words seemed stuck in his throat.
He was never a pleasant sight, but, so transfigured, he made as dreadful a picture as ever I saw, and I must confess that, as I looked upon him, my blood ran cold.
I was sure he was going to kill me, if only to serve his rage, for he knew as well as did I who it was that had shut the door and that Mansel, while he lay at his mercy, had bluffed him into discarding a winning hand. Indeed, had he guessed that George and the servants were actually in the tower, he would I believe, have shot me down like a dog; but, as the moments went by, yet he did not fire, I began to believe that he had still some hope of saving the game, and, since I was plainly his prisoner, had decided to hold me alive to his future use.
In a word, I was pretty desperate; but the thought of the part I had played in bringing him down did my heart good, and, what is more, it served to steady my nerves and to set my brain working to see if I could not hold out until help should come.
I folded my arms, leaned against the wall of the tower and waited for Rose Noble to speak.
At length—
“How did you get here?” he said.
“Thanks to Hanbury,” said I. “He opened the passage door.”
In a flash he had me by the collar and a pistol was hurting my ribs.
“March,” he said thickly.
Together we crossed the roof and entered the opposite tower. Then we went down the stair to the “gallery of stone.” He held me to the wall with the pistol, while he bolted the passage door. An instant later we were back on the roof.
“How did you come by those clothes?”
“Mine were wet,” said I. “And, as Casemate didn’t need them—”
“Why didn’t he need them?”
“Because Hanbury had laid him out.”
The man’s eyes burned in his head. They seemed to be striving to bore their way into my brain. Though he suspected it deeply, he could find no fault in my tale.
After a little he stepped to the balustrade.
“Bunch! Punter!” he roared.
For a moment he stood still, waiting, then he leaned over the stone.
“Come here,” he cried.
Again he waited, like a great beast about to spring.
“Look in that — kitchen and see if it’s all O.K.”
There was a moment’s silence; then I heard a scared voice.
“’E’s gone!” cried Punter.
Rose Noble drew himself up and turned to me.
“Where’s Hanbury now?”
“I don’t know,” said I. “He went to get the servants, but he hasn’t come back.”
“Why not?” said Rose Noble.
“I don’t know,” said I. “I was waiting to let them in, when the doctor appeared. So I left the gate open and came straight up to the roof.”
“I shouldn’t lie,” said Rose Noble.
Before I could answer, Punter appeared on the roof.
“Rose,” he said, “Casemate’s—”
There he saw me and stopped dead, with his mouth and his eyes wide open and a hand half way to his head.
Grimly Rose Noble surveyed him.
“Well, what of Casemate?” he said.
Dazedly Punter regarded him. Then he pointed to me.
“’E’s done ’im in,” he said stupidly. “Look at ’is — soot.”
The wretched man was plainly thinking aloud, but Rose Noble was not in the mood to receive such gifts. He did not actually strike him, but he took him by the shoulders and shook him, till he wore the colour of death and I really thought that his brains must be loose in his head. Then he flung him away against the wall of the tower, and using a frightful oath, d
emanded the truth.
At first Punter could not speak. Then he put a hand to his temples and moistened his lips.
“I thought he’d beat it,” he faltered. “When I saw the — gate open—”
“When was this?”
“Why, jus’ now,” said Punter. “I’d only that moment shut it, when you called me down.”
Rose Noble was plainly uncertain what to think.
My tale was unlikely enough, but the facts bore it out. That I should have quitted the porch before George and the servants were safely within the castle seemed to him a mistake which not even a child would have made. Yet, if they were truly within, a child would have had the good sense to shut the gate. Of these two incredible conclusions he did not know which to choose, and, as I watched his teeth at work on his lower lip, I was elated to think that I had contrived to embarrass so subtle a brain.
My triumph was short-lived.
“I guess Hanbury’s only two hands—and those were fast. How did you make the kitchen out of that flat?”
The thrust was so unexpected that I could only stare.
“Speak up, you young fool,” said Rose Noble. “I saw the way he was tied.”
I swallowed desperately. Lest Mansel should mean to use it, I dared not reveal the fact that the table sank through the floor.
“Out of the window,” I said, “when the servants attacked. I went into the kitchen for shelter and found him there.”
“Why didn’t Mansel go with you?”
“He hadn’t time,” said I. “The light was back on the windows before he could follow me down.”
“You knew the servants were there. Why didn’t you go to the porch and let them in?”
“I tried to,” said I. “But I didn’t dare show a light and I couldn’t undo the bolts.”
“But you did in the end,” said Rose Noble, rubbing his nose. “That’s why that attack was a washout. You whistled ’em down from the roof and handed them in. Are you sure you got out by the window?”
A sudden belief that the man was playing with me sent the blood to my head. In a trice I had lost my temper and found my tongue.
“Have it your own way,” said I. “It won’t be for long. I may have played the hand badly, but I’ve made the odd trick. You’re the wrong side of the door, and we can afford to wait. That doctor comes out of Lass, and, if he’s not back by sundown, I fancy his friends and relations will wonder why.”
Now, if this was all Greek to Punter, it was so much gall to his chief. Servants within or without, so long as Mansel sat still, he could not act, and, unless he acted quickly, the chance would pass. The stranger within the gates had set the sand-glass up, and the grains which had lain so long idle had now begun to run. And nothing on earth could stop them. Happen what might, before many hours were over tongues would be wagging and eyes would be turning to Gath. Before any steps were taken, if Rose Noble valued his freedom, he would be wise to be gone.
But, if I had stung him, the monster gave no sign.
“Yes,” he said slowly, “I guess I shall have it my way.”
The words were softly spoken, but his tone was so dark and so sinister that I found them more disturbing than any explosion of wrath. Indeed, his whole demeanour seemed to have changed: the red heat of passion was gone, and, in its stead, a coldness which was not human possessed this terrible man. And, if that did not show me, the next ten minutes declared why men endured his service and went in fear of his name.
He never once used an oath or two words where one would serve, and, if a sign could take the place of an order, he made a sign. He never hesitated or gave any sort of reason for the commands he gave; himself he did nothing and seemed to be oblivious of what was done, yet, when Bunch was about to gag me, he had knocked me down before I knew myself that my hand had instinctively moved towards my knife. No Pharoah could have been more imperious, no beast so vigilant, nothing but a statue could have stood so still and cold. What was far more, the man compelled belief. That I had duped him was forgotten; if he said “Shut that door,” I knew that to leave it open would have been a fatal mistake; he gave the impression of providing for what was coming to pass; from his orders alone you could foretell the future, till looking ahead seemed as simple as looking back. Little wonder that Bunch and Punter hung on his lips . . . .
Casemate was found and heartily soused with water in a hope of bringing him to, but Mansel had struck too well, and after a little they left him to fare as best he could. I was gagged and my wrists were tightly bound. Food and wine were packed in a battered bag and, without passing through the porch, we left by a lower window and gained the spur.
This was of course, the window by which Hanbury had been brought in. The middle bar could be lifted, so that a man could pass. The contrivance was simple, but none from without could have reached the plate, like a damper, which locked the bar into place.
With never a look behind him, Rose Noble passed up the spur and into the drive. Once out of sight of the castle, he turned to the right and, plunging into the thicket, swung back towards the castle, till he came to a little hollow, sunk in the midst of bushes and overspread with the branches of the surrounding trees.
We were now on the fringe of the wood, and I could see the castle between the leaves; the drive was ten paces away and the spur but three, but, while we commanded both, a man must have stumbled upon us before he knew we were there.
Rose Noble pushed back his hat and lit a cigar.
Then—
“Watch,” he said shortly and flung himself down on the turf.
Without a word, Bunch wriggled into the foliage, until he could see the spur, while Punter opened the bag and began to eat. Of me they took no notice, and, since it seemed idle to stand, I sat myself down. This miserably enough, for my bodily state was wretched and my heart was heavy as lead. If ever a man “meant business,” Rose Noble was he, and there was death in the hollow for whoever came up to the drive. Carson was doomed; the cars were as good as gone; and I was the wretched decoy to draw Mansel out of the castle and into the snare. I could see it all coming as clearly as though it were past and could do no more to prevent it than one of those careless butterflies that we had passed on the spur.
Presently I laid down my head and stared at the sky.
At least the place was lovely, and the day as fine and smooth as a day could be. The fluting of birds and the steady hum of insects soothed the ear; and the wet grass was cool and fragrant against my cheek.
My head was aching, and I was parched with thirst; the gag was most hard on my jaws and my wrists were already sore; but I was very tired, and, since Nature is a governess not easily put about, the murmur of insects grew more and more slumberous, and, after a little space, I fell asleep.
“I reckon he’s sweating,” said Rose Noble.
I was wide awake in an instant. With the tail of my eye I could see that, except that Bunch was eating and Punter had taken his place, nothing had changed.
“Sweating blood,” said Rose Noble. “One Willie up on the drop, and, unless he gets a move on, the other walks into our arms as soon as it’s dark.”
“Complete with car,” said Bunch, licking his lips. Rose Noble shrugged his shoulders.
“Maybe,” he said. “But I guess they’ll give us the cars before we’re through.”
Punter looked down from his post on the lip of the dell.
“He can lay to meeting ’is Gawd, if he comes out.”
“That’s why he’s sweating,” said Rose Noble. “This — garden’s all right from the castle wall, but it’s just a shade too wild for a good close-up.”
“Suicide ’All,” said Bunch. “But ’e won’t ’ave a dart by daylight. ‘E knows—”
“Yes, he will,” said Rose Noble. “He’ll never wait ten hours, while his Willies are getting wet. He’ll bring two o’ the servants with him, an’ they’ll come right up in a line.”
Punter looked round.
“Didn’t we ought to spread,
Rose?” The other shook his head.
“Stop one, an’ you stop the lot. Say we lay out a servant—well, what’ll Big Willie do? Fall on his — stomach an’ pray to God. He’s only the wood to shoot at, an’ he’s three down instead of two. An’ that’s when we move. By the time he’s got his soul straight, I guess I’ll be ready to flip a fly off his nose.” “You don’ wan’ to kill ’im,” said Bunch. “If you—” “‘Kill him?’” breathed Rose Noble. “‘Kill him?’” I could hear him suck in his breath. “No, I’m not going to kill him. And if I were you, I wouldn’t so much as loose off, if you see his face—in case you killed him, for, if you did, by — , I’d feed your tripe to a mongrel before your eyes.”
A prudent silence succeeded this horrid threat, which was not so much spoken as snarled and suggested a return of the temper with which the monster was ridden a while before. For my part, I would have welcomed that cold, black mood, for now his manner argued a confidence so rich and ripe and lazy as made me twice as hopeless as I had been before.
“I’m going to sell him,” said Rose Noble. “Hang him up on a wall of that court—expose him for sale... with a bucket on either foot—the way they made ‘Poky’ remember the name of his ‘bank.’ If he won’t buy himself in, I guess the Willies’ll think when they see the weights. An’ before we reach the reserve, I guess the goods will ask him to change his mind.”
“But see here, Rose,” said Punter. “They won’t ’ave the cash to pay with, an’ ’ow can we wait? That blasted chemist—”
“Who wants to wait?” said Rose Noble. “I’ll take their — word. Oh, I guess they’ve got false bottoms, the same as anyone else. I wouldn’t trust Mansel a foot—if none of his like could hear. But let one of ’em pass his word in front of his — kind, an’ he hasn’t the spunk to break it for fear they’ll think he’s a swab. That’s what they mean when they talk of Noblesse Oblige; if you want plain English, Don’t let 'em see your dirt.”
The venom with which he uttered this ugly argument declared the deadly hatred he bore us all, and I could not help wondering what was the fellow’s history, for he had a commanding presence and was by no means common, as Punter and Bunch, while his speech was constantly betraying a considerable education which for some unaccountable reason he seemed to despise.
Blind Corner and Perishable Goods Page 36