Audrey opened her eyes.
“For one afternoon?… At Castelly?… Why ever not?”
“I don’t know. I just wouldn’t have done it. You see, though nobody knows it, we’re taking on Barabbas and Plato at their own game. Well, it goes without saying that that is a dangerous game. And because you are of our party, you are involved. For one thing only, you know Barabbas’ secret – the secret he’s taken such infinite pains to preserve. In a word, you now know who he is. And that knowledge alone has put you within the danger line. Well, that’s all right so long as there’s somebody with you. But—”
“The old, old story. ‘Women and children first.’”
“That saying,” said I, “will never apply to you. If anyone tried to apply it, Mansel and Chandos and I would all laugh in his face. But one thing you can’t get away from, and that is this. If harm were to come to Mansel or Chandos or me, we should call it the luck of the game and leave it there: but if harm were to come to you, we should never forgive ourselves for the rest of our lives.”
“My dear,” said Audrey, “what harm could come to me? I know as well as you that the nearest I’ll get to Midian is the top of that spur you’ve found. I’m not even going to trespass. In more romantic language, I am not and am not going without the law.”
“But you’re running with people who are: and, what is far more to the point, you are yourself in a position to give Barabbas away. If I’d known you were here alone—”
“I wasn’t,” said Audrey. “Jonah’s as bad as you. Rowley was watching the inn, till he saw you arrive.”
“That’s more like it,” said I, and felt strangely relieved.
In fact, my spirits rose, for I had been worried to think that Mansel had not taken a precaution which my instinct advised.
I stood to the window again and stared at the topless hills. But though my thoughts went back again to the barn, the image of Audrey was, so to speak, superimposed. I saw her clean-cut beauty, as I had seen it tonight and so many times: I saw her waking and sleeping, and I saw her at work and at play: I saw her slim, brown hands and her slender throat – and the curls which Bell had trimmed, because ‘it would take too long to go to a barber’s shop’: I saw the stars in her eyes and the pride of her parted lips and I saw her smile – the light of her countenance…
I never heard her move, but I found her standing beside me, looking into the night.
When she spoke, she spoke very low.
“Shall I go to London, St John? I will, if you’d like it. I don’t…want to…cramp your style.”
I put my arm about her and held her against my heart.
“If you went to London,” I said, “I should go with you: until this show is over, I cannot leave you alone.” I drew in my breath. “I suppose I’ll be able to then: I suppose, perhaps, I shall have to – though God knows how I shall do it, after these days. You see, you’ve become part of me – the principal part. Take you away, and what’s left isn’t worth having, and that’s the truth. So when I take care of you, I’m taking care of myself. It’s the instinct of self-preservation that makes me look after you.”
I felt her sigh.
“You give and I take – as usual. Oh, St John, shall we ever do anything else?”
“Honours are even,” said I. “You give just as much as I do, my darling girl. What woman was ever sweeter to any man? You’re not in love with me, though I am with you. Yet, to make me happy, you let me show you my love – you let me play the lover, as I am playing it now. If I liked to ask tonight, I know you’d deny me nothing, because, though you don’t really love me, you’d think it would be unfair to me to refuse. That is your god – fairness: at any cost to yourself, you’ve got to be fair. Your sex, your beauty, your style – these things don’t count with you. In your eyes, you and I are just two human beings; and since, as you seem to believe, I’ve been more or less fair to you, you’re determined to be fair back, whatever it costs.”
Her head came to rest on my shoulder, and her hair was against my face.
“It costs me nothing, my darling. I tried to make you see that the other day. I’m being natural with you, as you’re being natural with me. And I think more girls would be natural, if there were more men like you. Ten minutes ago I had my armour on – the armour I always wear with everyone – except you. But you have disarmed me – as usual. Piece by piece, St John, you’ve taken it off – and made me ashamed and sorry I put it on.”
There was a little silence, because, to be honest, I could not control my voice.
Then—
“All my life,” I said thickly, “I shall remember those words. No one but Audrey Nuneham could have said such a handsome thing.”
She made no answer to that: but she lifted her head and brushed my face with her lips.
I turned her round and held her up in my arms. “Who gives and who takes?” I said, with my eyes upon hers.
She set her hands upon my shoulders.
“That wasn’t giving,” she said, with the rarest smile. “That was an acknowledgment.”
I woke with a start the next morning at six o’clock. Then I saw Audrey asleep some four feet away, and the sight of her let recollection out of the slips.
At once I repaired to our bathroom, there to make my toilet before she should wake: but when I came out, she was sitting up ‘doing her hands’ – to my mind, a wanton proceeding, for Nature had ‘done’ them for ever, when Audrey was born.
Whilst she was rising, I got the Lowland out and had the tank filled at some pump: and then we had breakfast together, before setting out from Castelly at eight o’clock.
I fear this was earlier than Mansel had meant us to start, but I wished to approach the spur by some way other than that which Chandos and I had found: and this, of course, would take time, for I had to discover a way. The truth was I wished, if we could, to avoid that shelf-like road which Chandos and I had frequented the day before; for it was not a road which a tourist would willingly take, still less a road upon which he would waste any time, because, as I have shown, there was nothing to see. Then, again, I could remember no track, running out of that road, upon which we should have a chance of concealing the car: and that was a serious matter, for a car is not like a tank, but must have a decent surface on which to move.
All this I explained to Audrey, who fully agreed with me: and the end of it was that we took a mountain road some four miles south of the water above which Midian stood. If the map was true, this road turned north, towards Midian, before it had gone very far, and though I was rather afraid that we might have to climb some shoulder before we could get to the spur, that seemed more satisfactory than haunting the other road and trying to find some harbour which was not there.
In the night some rain had fallen, but now the sky was clear, and what with this and the very brilliant sunshine, the country looked more legendary than real. The mountains were all about us, and hanging woods and pastures neighboured the way we took: I never saw verdure so green or the detail of distance so sharp: and almost every bend would disclose some magnificent prospect, as rich and soft and peaceful as though it were tapestry. I do not think we met or passed twenty people in twenty miles, and when once or twice we stopped, to consider the map, such sounds as we heard were those of Nature alone, although the air was as still as that of a crypt.
As though for our convenience, from the moment our road turned north, it began to rise by zigzags to gain some height, and after five or six minutes we came to the grey-green saddle to which it led. From there, as was natural enough, it began to run down: but a grass-grown track ran on up, to lose itself in the trees.
In silence Audrey stopped, and I got out of the Lowland and took to the track.
This showed no signs of usage, and after ten or twelve paces the metalling disappeared and only the grass was left. And then it curled to the right and came to a sudden end, for the mountain rose up like a wall as though to arrest its course.
Not being used to m
ountains, I found this strange, for the track had been well made a good while ago, and yet it led to nothing and served no purpose at all. And then I saw the answer to the riddle. Years ago the track had been overwhelmed. An avalanche had fallen, to blot it out: an avalanche, so mighty that those who had made the track had thrown in their hand, preferring to lose their labour rather than fight a battle which Hercules would have shirked. And now the avalanche was part of the mountain-side; and the track had become a cloister, kept by the birds and beasts.
Had we sought for a month, I am sure we could not have found a spot so safe and convenient in which to bestow the car; and before five minutes were past, the Lowland was standing silent at the foot of the mountain wall, with beeches and chestnuts about her and the bend of the track behind: and since she made no marks where she left the road, no passer-by would have dreamed that she was at hand.
“What a sweet place,” said Audrey, and so it was. Indeed, I have often found that when Nature has taken over the work of men’s hands, the result can be as charming as any which she can achieve: and here the world was so still, and the air was so cool and so fragrant, and the heaven we could not see was dispensing so gentle a light that the spot might have been the retreat of some Titania, to which she sometimes retired, to stroll instead of flitting and speak in prose instead of in poetry.
It was now a few minutes past nine, and since I knew nothing of the country which lay between us and the spur, and had but a rough idea of where that protuberance hung, I took a good look at the sun and then led the way up what remained of some path, because it seemed to be leading the way which I thought we should go.
Broken and rough as it was, it served us well, for to tread it was not so hard as to climb the mountain-side, and, what was better still, it spared us the trying business of marking the way we went, because we had only to find it to know the way back to the car. And though, as a matter of fact, it took us out of our way, it brought us up to a plateau which no one could ever mistake, for there was the hollow trunk of some long-dead tree in which I shall always believe that some bear and her whelps had lodged.
The plateau was not very far from the actual top of the mountain on which we stood, and very soon after ten we gained the summit itself. Here we rested a little, whilst I surveyed the country, to find, if I could, some pointer to lead me down to the spur: and thanks to the view I had seen the day before, when I had been standing with Chandos directly above the dell, I was able to judge pretty well the line we should take.
So we began to go down and to bear to the right, and after forty minutes of by no means easy going – though Audrey did very well – I saw some movement below me, and there was Rowley waving, and making signs for us to bear to the left.
This very welcome direction brought us clean on the spur, and there was Richard Chandos talking to Bell, who was mending his master’s trousers with needle and thread.
“Which is absurd,” said Audrey. “Richard, my dear, take them off and give them to me. And while I’m doing my best, you shall give us your news.”
“But I can’t do that,” said Chandos, “I’ve nothing else to put on.”
“Don’t be a fool,” said my lady, “but do as I say. I’m going to look at Midian: and when I come back, those trousers have got to be ready for me to start.” She stooped to examine the tear. “Dear God, you’ve torn your leg, too. How did you do this?”
“Barbed wire, my lady,” said Bell. “And he won’t have it touched.”
Audrey gave him her handkerchief.
“Find a rill,” she said. “And soak this and bring it back.” She returned to Chandos. “I’ll give you two minutes,” she said. “ If Jenny were here, she’d have torn them off you by now.”
I took her to look at Midian, ablaze in the mid-day sun. Perhaps because of this, the terrace was now deserted, and though we used my glasses we saw no movement at all.
“Later, perhaps,” I said shortly, and got to my feet. Audrey made no answer, but as she stood up, she swayed, and I had just time to catch her, before she fell.
I laid her down where she was, plucked two or three handfuls of grass, which because it grew in the shade was still very wet, and laid the blades on her temples and pushed them beneath her neck.
Then I saw that her eyes were open and fast upon me.
“Sorry, St John,” she said quietly. And then, “I’m so glad it was you.”
I took her fingers and kissed them and felt them close upon mine.
So we stayed for a moment – she lying flat, and I on my knees by her side.
Then—
“Girls will be girls,” she said, “but I’m all right now.”
With that, she got to her feet.
“Are you sure, my darling?” said I.
“Quite sure.” She blew me a kiss. “And now let me get at Richard. Men will be men, I suppose, but he’s got a wound in his thigh about four inches long.”
With her iodine pencil, she made a good job of the gash: then she pulled poor Bell’s stitches out and fell to mending the trousers in a most professional way: and while she worked, I watched her, and Chandos told us his tale.
“As luck will have it,” he said, “we were able to cross the water a bit higher up. It meant getting wet, but no more. Two hundred yards up-stream the water comes round in a bend, and there is a natural lasher – a horse-shoe fall. Just there the torrent’s much wider: and so, of course, it’s not so deep or so strong. And the pool beneath the fall is as safe as a house – smooth, straightforward water, and hardly a rock.
“Well, we got across by moonlight, and then we started down-stream on the other side. This was rather a business, for after a bit the woods gave way to the cliff. You see what I mean. For about a hundred yards we simply climbed along the face of a pretty steep slope, which was covered with trees: but then the slope got steeper with every yard, till at last it was just a cliff and there weren’t any trees.
“Well, we’d got some hanks of cord, and day was beginning to break, so we took to the water again and hoped for the best. One tied a cord under one’s arms and chucked the rest of it over the bough of a tree. Then Carson took hold of the line and paid it out, as though he were playing a fish. For the first ten yards or so the going was pretty rough – rocks all over the place, and the current trying to bang you against the face of the cliff: you see, you couldn’t swim and you couldn’t walk: you had to half float and half clamber – the sort of progress which I think a seal would enjoy. And then, without any warning, our luck came in.
“I was hanging on to some rock which I couldn’t see when I lost my hold and was carried under water against the cliff. I’d just time to shove out a hand to take the bump, and the moment I touched, I knew I was up against something that wasn’t pure cliff. In fact it was masonry.
“And now let’s go back for a moment.
“From what I’ve said you will gather that the current is setting strong against the foot of the cliff above which Midian is built. That means that in course of time that cliff will be undermined, because all the force of the water is bearing upon its face. I believe the right word’s ‘erosion’… Now either Barabbas or some former owner of Midian has been put wise to this, and so beneath the water the cliff has been reinforced. It may have been done at the end of some summer drought, when the river would be much lower than it is now. In any event, it’s been done: and, what is more, the work has been done very well. They haven’t just patched the cliff where the cliff was worn: they’ve built out beyond the cliff, the way you build your footings before you set up a wall. Which means there’s a ledge under water – for all I know, the whole way along its face. Four feet below the surface: no more than that. You can walk along it keeping one hand on the cliff.
“With such a place to jump off from, the cliff is nothing at all. With five or six dogs, it’ll be like walking upstairs. They’re being made now, I hope: and we’re going to place them tonight.”
“Dogs?” said Audrey.
“Pieces of iron,” said Chandos, “the shape of the letter E, but without the prong. They’ve got a point at each end. Drive one into a cliff, and it makes you a rung. That’s the best of water. If it’s singing loud enough, it covers what noise you make.”
“But, once they’re placed, won’t anyone be able to see them?”
“I don’t think so,” said Chandos. “You see, the cliff isn’t bare, and I think they’ll melt into the general colour scheme. Then again they’ll be jacketed with rubber – grey, rubber tubing, the same sort of shade as the cliff.”
“You don’t forget anything, do you? But didn’t you find that water terribly cold?”
Chandos smiled.
“It was a bit cold,” he said: “but after a while, you know, you don’t notice it much. But I was damned glad of that ledge. I can’t believe Barabbas knows that it’s there. I mean, with your feet upon that, you’re practically home.”
“Fortune favours the bold.”
“I ran no risk,” said Chandos. “The line was round my chest, and Carson was ready and waiting to haul me in.”
For all that, there can be no doubt that only a lion-hearted man would have entered that icy water, thereby committing himself to a mercy it did not know, and have fought and won his battle against its pace and its might. But I think it is true to say that neither Mansel nor Chandos knew any fear, or that, if they did, they had reduced that emotion to full obedience.
It may seem out of reason that danger should have been courted and efforts so bold have been made, when the terrace could have been reached by walking over some meadows and climbing a six-foot wall: but, though that way was inviting, I think we all of us knew that there was about it some ‘snag’; for Barabbas was not the man to select so secure a retreat, yet not deny admittance to such as might seek to gain it without being seen or heard. And here, as we afterwards found, we were perfectly right, for Midian was girt with a system of almost invisible wire, which only had to be touched to give the alarm. But the balustrade was not wired, but was left in the charge of the cliff and the water below.
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