The Castle by the Sea/Chapter 10

HE mystery, which had seemed about to solve itself, had now in my eyes taken a darker color. As I told Norroy, I had never heard of creditors who pressed a victim with such ruthlessness. Not but what they had some excuses, if one examined the matter calmly. This young man had "outrun the constable" in a most reckless way, and he must now pay the penalty. So far as I could gather from his eminently disconnected statements, the Castle was mortgaged pretty fully, and a sale would bring but a small sum in excess. There was that amount of reason at any rate in his refusal to go to the market, quite apart from sentiment. Sentiment I somehow found odd in Sir Gilbert Norroy. His creditor, who had bought up his debts, had another reason for wishing to push him to extremes,—he wanted the estate. And Norroy had a sentiment against this compulsory sale. I did not blame him, though I wondered at it in him. And I had undertaken to help him.

It was, after all, an easy matter in practice, whatever might be alleged against it in morals. My guest was not difficult, and in a way he seemed businesslike. He visited Toosey next morning to inspect his progress in the nefarious work of copying the pictures, and came back very much pleased.

"He's making a rattling job of it," he declared. "You would n't know one from the other."

Toosey, it appeared, was not party to the criminal transaction, being hired to reproduce the replicas without knowledge of their ultimate destination.

"Does he know who you are?" I inquired.

"Damned if I know," said Norroy, suddenly. "I talked a bit about things—told him what I wanted."

"All right," I said, seeing the sort of man I had to deal with. "I 'll see him."

I went up. Mr. Toosey greeted me with constraint, for I don't think he fully trusted me.

"Mr. Toosey," said I, "that was Sir Gilbert Norroy who paid you a visit."

"I thought so," said Peter Toosey, screwing up an eye to examine his color.

"The fact is," said I, "he's in trouble."

Mr. Toosey put down his palette. "Police?" he asked with interest.

"Well, not precisely."

Mr. Toosey seemed disappointed.

"Duns!" I said.

He laughed. "Oh, duns!" as if that mattered nothing in the least.

"The fact is," said I, again playing on the adventurous heart I had detected in him, "all these people are after him." I waved a hand vaguely at the window. Mr. Toosey's eyes sparkled. "And I'm hiding him. I don't want you to mention he is here, seeing I 've taken you into my confidence."

"Naturally," said Mr. Toosey, "I should have said nothing as a gentleman. But, of course, if it's duns I'd do it on principle."

"Thank you," I said. "We must keep him quiet. He must lie low. We must guard him, Toosey."

He was gravely interested. "I 'll think out a plan," he said presently. "You may rely on me."

I marched out triumphant, and found Norroy turning over the leaves of an illustrated weekly, containing examples of female beauty, with every appearance of absorption.

"I 've silenced him," I said. "He's constitutionally the foe of duns."

"Thanks, old chap," said Norroy. "I say, is n't this girl a bit like Miss Harvey, what? Rattling good figure!"

"That reminds me," I went on. "What are we to do about those ladies? Mrs. Harvey and her daughter are sure to call in a day or two. They 'll find you here. To them—well, you are still Mr. Eustace, you know."

"Gilbert Eustace is my name," said he, sticking in his eye-glass and staring at me. "Look here, I'm not on to be known just now. Let us wait a bit. I'm  Eustace still."

"Very well," said I. "I 'll tell Jackman. And you'd better make yourself as comfortable as you can while we reconnoitre."

I visited the village later in the morning, leaving Jackman to mount guard, but I saw nothing of the ladies. Nor had I time to call, as I should like to have done, for I was on a mission to secure some of Norroy's belongings from his lodgings. I bore a letter to his landlady, giving instructions that they should be sent to the station at Arncombe, which had occurred to us as a cunning device in the event of inquiries being made at the cottage. I felt I ought to inform Miss Forrest that our suspicions in regard to Mr. Eustace were unfounded, and I resolved to do so at the earliest opportunity. We had lunch comfortably, during which I learned a good deal more about Norroy's affairs, and was vastly entertained by his philosophy, if I may so dignify it. He had an excellent belief in his knowledge of the world, a perfect confidence, and a straightforwardness in speech which was exemplary. He had, I judged, the simple mind and instincts of a superior animal, carried off by bluff good manners, and his good nature was imperturbable. He did not even display any animus against his persecutors.

"A rum business," was his verdict on their proceedings, and he seemed to want to go no deeper.

About four o'clock I heard a ring at the front bell, and presently Jackman entered to acquaint me that a gentleman desired to see me. He glanced at his master, and I saw that he would have said something if he had not been a perfect servant. I took the card.

"This is coming to close quarters," I remarked with a whistle. "Horne!"

Norroy looked up. "The little chap with the big head," he said. "I'd better make myself scarce."

I thought so, too, and presently when Mr. Horne was ushered in I was alone. He gave me an awkward bow, and came forward still more awkwardly, sitting down on the extreme edge of a chair.

"How can I serve you, Mr. Horne?" I asked cheerfully.

"Well, I called about Sir Gilbert Norroy," he said in a soft voice, his bright eyes dancing on me. "I hold bills of his, and I'm anxious to have them paid."

He looked very simple and gentle, but I could hardly believe him so. Anyway, I was glad to have the ground cleared for action.

"And why come to me?" said I, as amiably as he.

"Because we have reason to believe that Sir Gilbert is here," he said plumply.

"Oh!" I replied. "Is that so? And what if he should be? What has it to do with me?"

"We thought you might be willing to meet us, Mr. Brabazon," he proceeded composedly. "You see we stand to lose a biggish sum in the matter, and it would be obliging us very much if you met us."

I smiled at the preposterous notion that I should stand in with the dunner in the matter of his quarry.

"There does n't seem very much reason in that idea," I observed. "Have you any reason for thinking I should help you to catch your man—that, I take it, is what you mean."

"Well, hardly," he said. "You see, if you would allow us to see Sir Gilbert, it would simplify matters, and would n't in any way hurt you. It would be a convenience to us. That's all we ask."

"Why suppose he is here?" I asked, going on another tack.

"Oh, we know that," he asserted coolly.

I pondered. "I dare say you know your own business best, Mr. Horne," I said. "And if, as you say, Sir Gilbert Norroy is here, I can assure you he has never entered with my knowledge."

He seemed slightly ruffled, and shifted on his chair. "We happen to know he has often been here," he said.

They had, then, noticed Norroy's visits, but had not until now suspected him. I rose.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Horne."

He lingered. "The course I propose would not in any way embarrass or compromise you, sir," he said. "I merely wish to see Sir Gilbert."

"Oh, you are quite at liberty to see him," I said. "But why come to me?"

"If you will allow me to explain—" he began, but I interposed.

"I don't think so. I have wished you good afternoon."

Still he would not go. "I think I have made myself clear, Mr.—Mr. Horne?" I said meaningly.

"In this matter—" he began. I rang the bell, and it seemed to me that he turned and listened to it. "The matter involves a heavy loss for me," he went on, "and I think it might be settled with a little negotiation between the parties. I come in a friendly spirit—" Jackman had not come. I rang again angrily. "You see—"

"Mr. Horne, if I do not see you outside in two minutes I 'll take a gross liberty, but one nevertheless allowed by law. I am allowed to use just the proper force, you will remember."

Where the mischief was Jackman? At last I heard a door go, the feet of a man running in the hall. Mr. Horne picked up his hat and hastily retreated, as Jackman burst into the room in a flurry of disorder.

"Show that gentleman out," I called impatiently.

"Yes, sir." Jackman, much winded and discomposed of face, preceded my visitor to the door. Then he came back.

"Why on earth did n't you come before?" I asked. "I 've had to put up with that little toad for quite ten minutes."

"I—I'm sorry, sir, but I had an alarm," panted Jackman.

"What was that?" I inquired.

"I—the butcher came to the door to say Miss Harvey had an accident with her car, sir."

"What?" I cried.

"Yes, sir—down by the shrubbery, sir; but I could n't find it."

I had been walking sharply to the door and stopped now. "Could n't find it!" I repeated. "Could n't find the car, Jackman?"

"No, sir."

"Where did the boy say?"

"I understood it was down by the shrubbery, sir, near where the tradesmen's road runs into the drive."

"We'd better make inquiries at once," I said. "Where's the boy?"

"I don't know, sir. I think he's gone," said Jackman, weakly.

"Look here, Jackman, all this is very odd," I said. "It wants going into, and the sooner the better. Send Mrs. Jackman to me."

"She's—I can't find her, sir."

There was a silence between us, and then I said: "Come, Jackman, let us have it."

The mask fell partially from the man; he began to talk almost like a human creature. "I believe there's something bad in it, sir. I could n't find any sign of an accident, or of a car. It looked like a put-up job."

"To get you away," I said. "Well, but what about the butcher-boy?" I asked.

"I can't understand him, sir," said Jackman.

"Well, we'd better find Mrs. Jackman," I said. "That's our first duty."

As I passed into the hall I turned the key of the front door against emergencies, and then we sought the back parts of the Castle. The door from the kitchen into the courtyard was open, but there was no sign of Mrs. Jackman. We went out through the courtyard into the area of shrubs behind that abutted towards the kitchen gardens, but still no discovery rewarded our efforts. The kitchen gardens are entered through a big yew hedge, and on one side of this is a wild growth of trees, elders and hazels and the like, flourishing during these last years of the present ownership with luxuriant disorder. Here, too, is a small shed used once maybe as a depot for gardeners' tools, red-tiled, and green with creepers. As we passed near this I heard a cry. We listened greedily, and it was repeated in a wail of terror.

"Sally!" brought forth Jackman. "Beg your pardon, sir, Mrs. Jackman."

He turned to the shed, and examined the door, which was padlocked outside. But the key was in the lock, and in a minute or two we had the door open. Mrs. Jackman, with a scared and tear-stained face, met us with a gasp of relief. Her explanations were simple, so simple that I could almost have laughed. The butcher-boy had been busy with her earlier than with her husband, but her excitable feminine nature did not warrant such a plausible trick as had disengaged Jackman from his duty. She had been informed that Miss Harvey had had an accident, and was in the shed and that water was needed immediately. On the fleet wings of mercy the poor woman sped to find herself an easy captive.

"Jackman," said I, "that butcher-boy is a genius."

"I 'll get him dismissed at once, the wretch," sobbed Mrs. Jackman. "I can't imagine why Eastwoods got rid of the other one."

I pricked up my ears. "The other!" I said.

"Yes, he's a new boy," said the lady, drying her eyes.

It only made me conceive a greater respect for our opponents.

"How do you know he was the butcher-boy?" I inquired with interest.

"From his blue apron, and having no hat, sir," said Mrs. Jackman, as if it were ridiculous to ask such a question.

"Well, he was n't," I said sharply. "And the sooner we get back the better. Jackman, does n't it strike you as remarkable that while I am engaged with one gentleman in the front, both Mrs. Jackman and you are inveigled away by another at the back? You see what the effect is—to leave the house bare of its defences."

"Good Lord, sir," said Jackman, startled.

We hurried back, and entered. I had not a doubt now as to the ruse and its purpose. Horne could not have hoped for one moment to enlist my sympathies on his behalf. His visit was timed as a trick, as part of an ingenious campaign. He held me in conversation in the front while his confederates enticed the Jackmans away. In the meantime I had no doubt that one of the gang had effected an entrance into the Castle. Our business now was to find him.

But there was a prior inquiry. Going back to what I have called in these pages my smoking-room I called Norroy by name. There was no answer. I passed into the morning-room and repeated the call, still without success. Then I thought he had perhaps retired to his bedroom which was in the western wing near mine, and I tramped down the passage.

"What's up? Has he gone?" said a voice, and Sir Gilbert appeared at a door.

"I want you to lock yourself in for a little. There's mischief afoot," I said.

He came out into the passage. "Lock myself in, what?" he said.

"I believe there's some one secreted in the house," I explained. "We 're going to have a look."

"All right, old chap. Let me get a paper or something."

"Go back," I urged. "I 'll get you it. Don't be a fool."

He went back obediently, and I slipped back into the smoking-room and grabbed a picture paper. As I came round into the passage I heard a conversation overhead, and almost at the same time the stamp of feet on the stairs at the foot of the passage. Then there burst into view running at breathless speed the butcher-boy, with Jackman panting behind him; simultaneously a scuffling fell on my ear, and I caught sight of Toosey sprawling in a heap at the foot of the stairs.

In another moment it seemed as though the butcher-boy would be in my arms, when (will it be credited?) the sound of a fiddle came from Norroy's room near by. I cursed him for an egregious ass, and cursed the chance that had made me fetch it for him from his rooms that morning. The running intruder pulled up and made a dive at the door, and to my horror it opened. It had not been locked according to my instructions. I flew after him, and stretching a long arm seized his flying blue apron. This, with the impetus of his dash, tripped him up, and he came to the floor with a bump. I dragged him forth by the foot despite his struggles, and with the help of Jackman I got him up, and with one—two—three and away, we flung him like a sack between us through the open doorway into the courtyard, where he bit the accumulated dirt of the unswept area.

"Rattling good throw that,—beats rugger all to fits," said a voice in my ear, and turning I saw Norroy's equable face fitted with its eye-glass looking over my shoulder.

"Oh, don't be an ass, and do go back," I panted.

Jackman banged the door, and the sham butcher-boy, who had scrambled to his feet, was understood to be threatening us, by his gesticulating fist, with the law. His face was smutched with dirt and blood, and he looked a wretched object.

"Run him off, Jackman," I said.

The butler wanted no further inducement, as I fancy he had a score to pay off upon the butcher-boy. He opened the door again and gave chase. The server of writs took to his heels and disappeared around the corner of the Castle, with Jackman manfully toiling in his rear.

"Deuced narrow shave, old chap," said Sir Gilbert, still at my elbow.