Dead Men Tell No Tales

by E. W. Hornung

  CHAPTER XIX. MY GREAT HOUR

  The library doors were shut, and I closed the secret one behind mebefore opening the other and peering out through a wrack of bluishsmoke; and there lay Captain Harris, sure enough, breathing his last inthe arms of one constable, while another was seated on the table with avery wry face, twisting a tourniquet round his arm, from which the bloodwas dripping like raindrops from the eaves. A third officer stood in theporch, issuing directions to his men without.

  "He's over the wall, I tell you! I saw him run up our ladder. After himevery man of you--and spread!"

  I looked in vain for Rattray and the rest; yet it seemed as if onlyone of them had escaped. I was still looking when the man in the porchwheeled back into the hall, and instantly caught sight of me at my door.

  "Hillo! here's another of them," cried he. "Out you come, young fellow!Your mates are all dead men."

  "They're not my mates."

  "Never mind; come you out and let's have a look at you."

  I did so, and was confronted by a short, thickset man, who recognized mewith a smile, but whom I failed to recognize.

  "I might have guessed it was Mr. Cole," said he. "I knew you were heresomewhere, but I couldn't make head or tail of you through the smoke."

  "I'm surprised that you can make head or tail of me at all," said I.

  "Then you've quite forgotten the inquisitive parson you met out fishing?You see I found out your name for myself!"

  "So it was a detective!"

  "It was and is," said the little man, nodding. "Detective or InspectorRoyds, if you're any the wiser.

  "What has happened? Who has escaped?" "Your friend Rattray; but he won'tget far."

  "What of the Portuguese and the nigger?"

  I forgot that I had crippled Jose, but remembered with my words, andwondered the more where he was.

  "I'll show you," said Royds. "It was the nigger let us in. We heard himgroaning round at the back--who smashed his leg? One of our men was atthat cellar grating; there was some of them down there; we wanted tofind our way down and corner them, but the fat got in the fire too soon.Can you stand something strong? Then come this way."

  He led me out into the garden, and to a tangled heap lying in themoonlight, on the edge of the long grass. The slave had fallen on topof his master; one leg lay swathed and twisted; one black hand had butpartially relaxed upon the haft of a knife (the knife) that stood uphilt-deep in a blacker heart. And in the hand of Santos was still therevolver (my Deane and Adams) which had sent its last ball through thenigger's body.

  "They slipped out behind us, all but the one inside," said Royds,ruefully; "I'm hanged if I know yet how it happened--but we were on themnext second. Before that the nigger had made us hide him in the grass,but the old devil ran straight into him, and the one fired as the otherstruck. It's the worst bit of luck in the whole business, and I'm ratherdisappointed on the whole. I've been nursing the job all this week; hadmy last look round this very evening, with one of these officers, andonly rode back for more to make sure of taking our gentlemen alive. Andwe've lost three out of four of 'em, and have still to lay hands onthe gold! I suppose you didn't know there was any aboard?" he askedabruptly.

  "Not before to-night."

  "Nor did we till the Devoren came in with letters last week, a hundredand thirty days out. She should have been in a month before you, but shegot amongst the ice around the Horn. There was a letter of advice aboutthe gold, saying it would probably go in the Lady Jermyn; and anotherabout Rattray and his schooner, which had just sailed; the younggentleman was known to the police out there."

  "Do you know where the schooner is?"

  "Bless you, no, we've had no time to think about her; the man had beenseen about town, and we've done well to lay hands on him in the time."

  "You will do better still when you do lay hands on him," said I,wresting my eyes from the yellow dead face of the foreign scoundrel.The moon shone full upon his high forehead, his shrivelled lips, dank intheir death agony, and on the bauble with the sacred device that he worealways in his tie. I recovered my property from the shrunken fingers,and so turned away with a harder heart than I ever had before or sincefor any creature of Almighty God.

  Harris had expired in our absence.

  "Never spoke, sir," said the constable in whose arms we had left him.

  "More's the pity. Well, cut out at the back and help land the younggent, or we'll have him giving us the slip too. He may double back,but I'm watching out for that. Which way should you say he'd head, Mr.Cole?"

  "Inland," said I, lying on the spur of the moment, I knew not why. "Tryat the cottage where I've been staying."

  "We have a man posted there already. That woman is one of the gang,and we've got her safe. But I'll take your advice, and have that sidescoured whilst I hang about the place."

  And he walked through the house, and out the back way, at the officer'sheels; meanwhile the man with the wounded arm was swaying where he satfrom loss of blood, and I had to help him into the open air before atlast I was free to return to poor Eva in her place of loathsome safety.

  I had been so long, however, that her patience was exhausted, and as Ireturned to the library by one door, she entered by the other.

  "I could bear it no longer. Tell me--the worst!"

  "Three of them are dead."

  "Which three?"

  She had crossed to the other door, and would not have me shut it. SoI stood between her and the hearth, on which lay the captain's corpse,with the hearthrug turned up on either side to cover it.

  "Harris for one," said I. "Outside lie Jose and--"

  "Quick! Quick!"

  "Senhor Santos."

  Her face was as though the name meant nothing to her.

  "And Mr. Rattray?" she cried. "And Mr. Rattray--"

  "Has escaped for the present. He seems to have cut his way through thepolice and got over the wall by a ladder they left behind them. They arescouring the country--Miss Denison! Eva! My poor love!"

  She had broken down utterly in a second fit of violent weeping; and asecond time I took her in my arms, and stood trying in my clumsy way tocomfort her, as though she were a little child. A lamp was burning inthe library, and I recognized the arm-chair which Rattray had drawnthence for me on the night of our dinner--the very night before! I ledEva back into the room, and I closed both doors. I supported my poorgirl to the chair, and once more I knelt before her and took her handsin mine. My great hour was come at last: surely a happy omen that it wasalso the hour before the dawn.

  "Cry your fill, my darling," I whispered, with the tears in my ownvoice. "You shall never have anything more to cry for in this world! Godhas been very good to us. He brought you to me, and me to you. He hasrescued us for each other. All our troubles are over; cry your fill; youwill never have another chance so long as I live, if only you will letme live for you. Will you, Eva? Will you? Will you?"

  She drew her hands from mine, and sat upright in the chair, looking atme with round eyes; but mine were dim; astonishment was all that Icould read in her look, and on I went headlong, with growing impetus andpassion.

  "I know I am not much, my darling; but you know I was not always what myluck, good and bad, has left me now, and you will make a new man ofme so soon! Besides, God must mean it, or He would not have thrown ustogether amid such horrors, and brought us through them together still.And you have no one else to take care of you in the world! Won't you letme try, Eva? Say that you will!"

  "Then--you--owe me?" she said slowly, in a low, awe-struck voice thatmight have told me my fate at once; but I was shaking all over in theintensity of my passion, and for the moment it was joy enough to be ableat last to tell her all.

  "Love you?" I echoed. "With every fibre of my being! With every atom ofmy heart and soul and body! I love you well enough to live to a hundredfor you, or to die for you to-night!"

  "Well enough to--give me up?" she whispered.

  I felt as though a cold hand had checked my
heart at its hottest, butI mastered myself sufficiently to face her question and to answer it ashonestly as I might.

  "Yes!" I cried; "well enough even to do that, if it was for yourhappiness; but I might be rather difficult to convince about that."

  "You are very strong and true," she murmured. "Yes, I can trust you asI have never trusted anybody else! But--how long have you been sofoolish?" And she tried very hard to smile.

  "Since I first saw you; but I only knew it on the night of the fire.Till that night I resisted it like an idiot. Do you remember how we usedto argue? I rebelled so against my love! I imagined that I had lovedonce already and once for all. But on the night of the fire I knew thatmy love for you was different from all that had gone before or wouldever come again. I gave in to it at last, and oh! the joy of giving in!I had fought against the greatest blessing of my life, and I never knewit till I had given up fighting. What did I care about the fire? Iwas never happier--until now! You sang through my heart like the windthrough the rigging; my one fear was that I might go to the bottomwithout telling you my love. When I asked to say a few last words to youon the poop, it was to tell you my love before we parted, that you mightknow I loved you whatever came. I didn't do so, because you seemedso frightened, poor darling! I hadn't it in my heart to add to yourdistress. So I left you without a word. But I fought the sea for daystogether simply to tell you what I couldn't die without telling you.When they picked me up, it was your name that brought back my sensesafter days of delirium. When I heard that you were dead, I longed todie myself. And when I found you lived after all, the horror of yoursurroundings was nothing to be compared with the mere fact that youlived; that you were unhappy and in danger was my only grief, but it wasnothing to the thought of your death; and that I had to wait twenty-fourhours without coming to you drove me nearer to madness than ever I wason the hen-coop. That's how I love you, Eva," I concluded; "that's how Ilove and will love you, for ever and ever, no matter what happens."

  Those sweet gray eyes of hers had been fixed very steadily upon me allthrough this outburst; as I finished they filled with tears, and my poorlove sat wringing her slender fingers, and upbraiding herself as thoughshe were the most heartless coquette in the country.

  "How wicked I am!" she moaned. "How ungrateful I must be! You offer methe unselfish love of a strong, brave man. I cannot take it. I have nolove to give you in return."

  "But some day you may," I urged, quite happily in my ignorance. "Itwill come. Oh, surely it will come, after all that we have gone throughtogether!"

  She looked at me very steadily and kindly through her tears.

  "It has come, in a way," said she; "but it is not your way, Mr. Cole. Ido love you for your bravery and your--love--but that will not quite dofor either of us."

  "Why not?" I cried in an ecstasy. "My darling, it will do for me! Itis more than I dared to hope for; thank God, thank God, that you shouldcare for me at all!"

  She shook her head.

  "You do not understand," she whispered.

  "I do. I do. You do not love me as you want to love."

  "As I could love--"

  "And as you will! It will come. It will come. I'll bother you no moreabout it now. God knows I can afford to leave well alone! I am only toohappy--too thankful--as it is!"

  And indeed I rose to my feet every whit as joyful as though she hadaccepted me on the spot. At least she had not rejected me; nay, sheconfessed to loving me in a way. What more could a lover want? Yet therewas a dejection in her drooping attitude which disconcerted me in thehour of my reward. And her eyes followed me with a kind of stony remorsewhich struck a chill to my bleeding heart.

  I went to the door; the hall was still empty, and I shut it again with ashudder at what I saw before the hearth, at all that I had forgottenin the little library. As I turned, another door opened--the door madeinvisible by the multitude of books around and upon it--and young SquireRattray stood between my love and me.

  His clear, smooth skin was almost as pale as Eva's own, but pale brown,the tint of rich ivory. His eyes were preternaturally bright. And theynever glanced my way, but flew straight to Eva, and rested on her veryhumbly and sadly, as her two hands gripped the arms of the chair, andshe leant forward in horror and alarm.

  "How could you come back?" she cried. "I was told you had escaped!"

  "Yes, I got away on one of their horses."

  "I pictured you safe on board!"

  "I very nearly was."

  "Then why are you here?"

  "To get your forgiveness before I go."

  He took a step forward; her eyes and mine were riveted upon him; and Istill wonder which of us admired him the more, as he stood there in hispride and his humility, gallant and young, and yet shamefaced and sad.

  "You risk your life--for my forgiveness?" whispered Eva at last. "Riskit? I'll give myself up if you'll take back some of the things you saidto me--last night--and before."

  There was a short pause.

  "Well, you are not a coward, at all events!"

  "Nor a murderer, Eva!"

  "God forbid."

  "Then forgive me for everything else that I have been--to you!"

  And he was on his knees where I had knelt scarce a minute before; norcould I bear to watch them any longer. I believed that he loved her inhis own way as sincerely as I did in mine. I believed that she detestedhim for the detestable crime in which he had been concerned. I believedthat the opinion of him which she had expressed to his face, in myhearing, was her true opinion, and I longed to hear her mitigate it everso little before he went. He won my sympathy as a gallant who valueda kind word from his mistress more than life itself. I hoped earnestlythat that kind word would be spoken. But I had no desire to wait to hearit. I felt an intruder. I would leave them alone together for the lasttime. So I walked to the door, but, seeing a key in it, I changedmy mind, and locked it on the inside. In the hall I might become theunintentional instrument of the squire's capture, though, so far as myears served me, it was still empty as we had left it. I preferred to runno risks, and would have a look at the subterranean passage instead.

  "I advise you to speak low," I said, "and not to be long. The place isalive with the police. If they hear you all will be up."

  Whether he heard me I do not know. I left him on his knees still, andEva with her face hidden in her hands.

  The cellar was a strange scene to revisit within an hour of mydeliverance from that very torture-chamber. It had been something morebefore I left it, but in it I could think only of the first occupant ofthe camp-stool. The lantern still burned upon the floor. There was themattress, still depressed where I had lain face to face with insolentdeath. The bullet was in the plaster; it could not have missed by thebreadth of many hairs. In the corner was the shallow grave, dug byHarris for my elements. And Harris was dead. And Santos was dead. Butlife and love were mine.

  I would have gone through it all again!

  And all at once I was on fire to be back in the library; so much so,that half a minute at the manhole, lantern in hand, was enough for me;and a mere funnel of moist brown earth--a terribly low arch propped withbeams--as much as I myself ever saw of the subterranean conduit betweenKirby House and the sea. But I understood that the curious may traverseit for themselves to this day on payment of a very modest fee.

  As for me, I returned as I had come after (say) five minutes' absence;my head full once more of Eva, and of impatient anxiety for the wildyoung squire's final flight; and my heart still singing with the joy ofwhich my beloved's kindness seemed a sufficient warranty. Poor egotist!Am I to tell you what I found when I came up those steep stairs to thechamber where I had left him on his knees to her? Or can you guess?

  He was on his knees no more, but he held her in his arms, and as Ientered he was kissing the tears from her wet, flushed cheek. Hereyelids drooped; she was pale as the dead without, so pale that hereyebrows looked abnormally and dreadfully dark. She did not cling tohim. Neither did she resist his caresses, but la
y passive in his arms asthough her proper paradise was there. And neither heard me enter; it wasas though they had forgotten all the world but one another.

  "So this is it," said I very calmly. I can hear my voice as I write.

  They fell apart on the instant. Rattray glared at me, yet I saw that hiseyes were dim. Eva clasped her hands before her, and looked me steadilyin the face. But never a word.

  "You love him?" I said sternly.

  The silence of consent remained unbroken.

  "Villain as he is?" I burst out.

  And at last Eva spoke.

  "I loved him before he was one," said she. "We were engaged."

  She looked at him standing by, his head bowed, his arms folded; nextmoment she was very close to me, and fresh tears were in her eyes. But Istepped backward, for I had had enough.

  "Can you not forgive me?"

  "Oh, dear, yes."

  "Can't you understand?"

  "Perfectly," said I.

  "You know you said--"

  "I have said so many things!"

  "But this was that you--you loved me well enough to--give me up."

  And the silly ego in me--the endless and incorrigible I--imagined herpouting for a withdrawal of those brave words.

  "I not only said it," I declared, "but I meant every word of it."

  None the less had I to turn from her to hide my anguish. I leaned myelbows on the narrow stone chimney-piece, which, with the grate belowand a small mirror above, formed an almost solitary oasis in the fourwalls of books. In the mirror I saw my face; it was wizened, drawn, oldbefore its time, and merely ugly in its sore distress, merely repulsivein its bloody bandages. And in the mirror also I saw Rattray, handsome,romantic, audacious, all that I was not, nor ever would be, and I"understood" more than ever, and loathed my rival in my heart.

  I wheeled round on Eva. I was not going to give her up--to him. I wouldtell her so before him--tell him so to his face. But she had turnedaway; she was listening to some one else. Her white forehead glistened.There were voices in the hall.

  "Mr. Cole! Mr. Cole! Where are you, Mr. Cole?"

  I moved over to the locked door. My hand found the key. I turned roundwith evil triumph in my heart, and God knows what upon my face. Rattraydid not move. With lifted hands the girl was merely begging him to go bythe door that was open, down the stair. He shook his head grimly. Withan oath I was upon them.

  "Go, both of you!" I whispered hoarsely. "Now--while you can--and I canlet you. Now! Now!"

  Still Rattray hung back.

  I saw him glancing wistfully at my great revolver lying on the tableunder the lamp. I thrust it upon him, and pushed him towards the door.

  "You go first. She shall follow. You will not grudge me one last word?Yes, I will take your hand. If you escape--be good to her!"

  He was gone. Without, there was a voice still calling me; but now itsounded overhead.

  "Good-by, Eva," I said. "You have not a moment to lose."

  Yet those divine eyes lingered on my ugliness.

  "You are in a very great hurry," said she, in the sharp little voice ofher bitter moments.

  "You love him; that is enough."

  "And you, too!" she cried. "And you, too!"

  And her pure, warm arms were round my neck; another instant, and shewould have kissed me, she! I know it. I knew it then. But it was morethan I would bear. As a brother! I had heard that tale before. Back Istepped again, all the man in me rebelling.

  "That's impossible," said I rudely.

  "It isn't. It's true. I do love you--for this!"

  God knows how I looked!

  "And I mayn't say good-by to you," she whispered. "And--and I loveyou--for that!"

  "Then you had better choose between us," said I.