The Bittermeads Mystery/Chapter 24

“No,” Dunn agreed after a long pause. “No, I don't see myself how failure is possible; I don't see what there is to go wrong. All the same, I shan't be sorry when it's all over; I suppose I'm nervous, that's the truth of it. But Deede Dawson's hardly the sort of man I should have expected to lay all his cards on the table so openly.”

“Oh, I think that's natural enough,” answered Walter. “Quite natural—he thinks you are in with him and he tells you what he wants you to do. But I don't quite see the object of your visit to the Abbey the other day. You gave me the shock of my life, I think. I hadn't the least idea who you were—that beard makes a wonderful difference.”

Dunn laughed quietly.

“It's a good disguise,” he admitted. “I didn't quite know myself first time I looked in a mirror. We went to the Abbey to prepare for a burglary there.”

“Oh, is that on the cards, too?” exclaimed Walter. “I didn't expect that.”

“Yes,” answered Dunn. “My own idea is that Deede Dawson sees an opportunity for making a bit on his own. After all of us are disposed of and his friend has got the title and estates, he won't dare to prosecute of course, and so Deede Dawson thinks it a good opportunity to visit the Abbey and pick up any pictures or heirlooms or so-so [sic] he can that it would be almost impossible to dispose of in the ordinary way, but that he expects he will be able to sell back at a good price to the new owner of the property. I think he calculates that that gentleman will be ready to pay as much as he is asked. I don't know, but I think that's his idea from something he said the other day about the uselessness of even good stuff from a big house unless you knew of a sure market, or could sell it back again to the owner.”

“Jolly clever idea if it works all right,” said Walter slowly. “I can see Mr. Deede Dawson is a man who needs watching. And I suppose we had better be on the look-out at the Abbey tomorrow night?”

“Evening,” corrected Dunn. “It's planned for the dinner-hour.”

“Right,” said Walter. “We shall see some crowded hours tomorrow, I expect. Well, it's like this, as I understand it—we had better be sure everything is quite clear. Their idea is that you will meet and murder Rupert Dunsmore, who they have no notion is really your own self, at Brook Bourne Spring at four tomorrow afternoon, and the unknown somebody who is behind all this business will be in hiding there to make sure you do your work properly. Our idea is to watch all the roads leading to Ottam's Wood and to have men in ambush near the spring to seize any one hiding there at that time. Then we shall know who is at the bottom of all these plots and shall be able to smash the whole conspiracy. In addition, Deede Dawson and this other man you speak of, Allen, are going to break into the Abbey tomorrow evening and we are to be ready for them and catch them in the act?”

“Yes,” said Dunn, “that's the idea; you can manage all right?”

“Oh, yes,” answered Walter. “It's all simple enough—you've planned it out so jolly well there's nothing much left for me to do. And I don't see what you're nervous about; there's nothing that can go wrong very well—your plans are perfect, I think.”

“It's easy enough to make plans when you know just what the other side are going to do,” observed Dunn. “There's one point more. Miss Cayley—I mentioned her in one of the notes I sent you through Burns.”

“Yes, I remember—Deede Dawson's step-daughter,” said Walter. “I suppose she is in it?”

“She is not; she knows nothing,” declared Dunn vehemently.

“But it was she who took away poor Charley's body, wasn't it?” asked Walter. “But for that you would have had evidence enough to act on at once, wouldn't you?”

“She did not know what she was doing,” Dunn replied. “And now she is in danger herself. I am convinced Deede Dawson is growing afraid of her, he dropped hints; I'm sure he is planning something, perhaps he means to murder her as well. So besides these other arrangements I want to see that there's a trustworthy man watching here. I don't anticipate that there's any immediate danger—it's almost certain that if he means anything he will wait till he sees how this other business is turning out. But I want some one trustworthy to be at hand in case of need. You will see to that?”

“Oh, yes, I can spare Simmonds; I'll send him,” answered Walter. “Though, I must say, my dear chap, I don't think I should trouble much about that young lady. But it can be easily managed, in fact everything you want me to do is easy enough; I only wish some of it was a bit difficult or dangerous.”

“You're a good chap, Walter,” said Dunn, putting his hand on the other's shoulder again. “Well, I think it's all settled now. I tell you I'm looking forward a good deal to four o'clock tomorrow afternoon. I feel as if I would give all I possess to know who it is.”

“Don't make that offer,” Walter said with a smile, “or the fates may accept it.”

“I feel as though there's only one thing in the world I want one half so much,” Dunn said. “As to know who this—devil is.”

“Devil?” repeated Walter. “Well, yes, devil's a word like any other.”

“I think it's justified in this case,” said Dunn sternly. “Poor Charley Wright dead! One thing I can't understand about that is how they got him back here when you saw him in London when you did. But they're a cunning lot. They must have worked it somehow. Then Clive. I feel to blame for Clive's death—as if I ought to have managed better and saved him. Now there's this other devilry they are planning. I tell you, Walter, I feel the whole world will be a sweeter place after four o'clock tomorrow afternoon.”

“At any rate,” said Walter, “I think we may be sure of one thing—after four o'clock tomorrow afternoon you will know all—all.” He paused and repeated, slightly varying the phrase: “Yes, after four o'clock tomorrow afternoon you will know everything—everything.” He added in a brisker tone: “There's nothing else to arrange?”

“No,” said Dunn, “I don't think so, and I had better go now or Deede Dawson will be suspecting something. He'll want to know what I've been stopping out so late for. Good-bye, old chap, and good luck.”

They shook hands.

“Good-bye and good luck, Rupert, old man,” Walter said. “You may depend on me—you know that.”

“Yes, I do know that,” Dunn answered.

They shook hands again, and Dunn said: “You've hurt your hand. It's tied up. Is it anything much?”

“No, no,” answered Walter with a little laugh. “A mere scratch. I scratched it on a bit of wood, a lid that didn't fit properly.”

“Well, good-bye and good luck,” Dunn said again, and they parted, Walter disappearing into the darkness and Dunn returning to the house.

Deede Dawson heard him enter, and he came to the door of the room in which he had been sitting.

“Oh, there you are,” he said. “Been enjoying the night air or what? You've been a long time.”

“I've been thinking,” Dunn muttered in the heavy, sulky manner he always assumed at Bittermeads.

“Not weakening, eh?” asked Deede Dawson.

“No,” answered Dunn. “I'm not.”

“Good,” Deede Dawson exclaimed. “There's a lot to win, and no fear of failure. I don't see that failure's possible. Do you?”

“No,” answered Dunn. “I suppose not.”

“The mate's sure this time,” Deede Dawson declared. “It's our turn to move, and whatever reply the other side makes, we're sure of our mate next move. By the way, did you ever solve that problem I showed you the other day?”

“Yes, I think so,” answered Dunn. “It was a long time before I could hit on the right move, but I managed it at last, I think.”

“Come and show me, then,” said Deede Dawson, bustling back into his room and beginning to set up the pieces on his travelling chess-board. “This was the position, wasn't it? Now, what's your move?”

Dunn showed him, and Deede Dawson burst into a laugh that had in it for once a touch of honest enjoyment.

“Yes, that would do it, but for one thing you haven't noticed,” he said. “Black can push the pawn at KB7 and make it, not a queen, but a knight, giving check to your king and no mate for you next move.”

“Yes, that's so,” agreed Dunn. “I hadn't thought of that.”

“Unexpected, eh? Making the pawn a knight?” smiled Deede Dawson. “But in chess, and in life, it's the unexpected you have to look out for.”

“That's quite an aphorism,” said Dunn. “It's true, too.”

He went up to bed, but did not sleep well, and when at last he fell into a troubled slumber, it seemed to him that Charley Wright and John Clive were there, one on each side of him, and that they had come, not because they sought for vengeance, but because they wished to warn him of a doom like their own that they could see approaching but he could not.

Toward's [sic] morning he got an hour's sound rest, and he was down stairs in good time. He did not see Ella, but he heard her moving about, so knew that she was safe as yet; and Deede Dawson gave him some elaborate parting instructions, a little money, and a loaded revolver.

“I don't know that I want that,” said Dunn. “My hands will be all I need once I'm face to face with Rupert Dunsmore.”

“That's the right spirit,” said Deede Dawson approvingly. “But the pistol may be useful too. You needn't use it if you can manage without, but you may as well have it. Good-bye, and the best of luck. Take care of yourself, and don't lose your head or do anything foolish.”

“Oh, you can trust me,” said Dunn.

“I think I can,” smiled Deede Dawson. “I think I can. Good-bye. Be careful, avoid noise and fuss, don't be seen any more than you can help, and if you shoot, aim low.”

“There's a vade mecum for the intending assassin,” Dunn thought grimly to himself, but he said nothing, gave the other a sullen nod, and started off on his strange and weird mission of murdering himself. He found himself wondering if any one else had ever been in such a situation. He did not suppose so.