Chapter 11
CHIRK, supporting Mr. Stogumber’s wilting frame back to the chair beside the fire, gave it as his opinion that what was needed to put him to rights was another nip of brandy.
“You’re mistaken,” replied John, restoring the bottle to the cupboard. “If he didn’t cast it up again, it would very likely throw him into a fever. Put a wet cloth round his head, and leave him alone! I’ll make him some strong coffee presently.”
He went away to his bedroom, and came back in a minute with one of the pillows from his bed. With this, and a soaking towel bound tenderly about his brow, Mr. Stogumber was made moderately comfortable. He opened his eyes, achieving a lopsided smile. “Damme, if I remember when I was so crop-sick!” he muttered. “Fair shook up I must have been! Me!”
“Now, don’t you go falling into a fit of the dismals, covey!” said Chirk, in a heartening tone. “There’s no call for you to be hipped. They tapped your claret, and you lost a lot of it, see? It’s my blame. The thing was, while you was playing at singlestick with one of them Captain Hackums it didn’t seem as I’d any call to interfere; and when t’other jumped out from behind the hedge I was took by surprise, same as you was.”
“I’m in your debt,” Stogumber said, closing his eyes again. “I’ve been near to cocking up my toes afore this, but I doubt it’s the closest-run thing I ever stepped into. I take it very kind in you. What’s more, I shan’t forget it,”
The Captain, who was standing by the door leading into the office, made an imperative sign with his head, and, upon Chirk’s going to him, led him out of the room, and softly shut the door.
“He’ll go to sleep, if we let him alone,” he said. “Now then, Jerry! What news?”
Chirk shook his head. “I’ve got nothing to tell you, Soldier. They ain’t seen nor heard anything of Ned in the kens where he might be looked for.” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “What do ye make of this set-out? Queer fetch, ain’t it? What’s he been up to?”
“Making enemies, apparently,” John replied. “Never mind him for the moment! I want you to go up to the Manor. Try if you can see Rose, and find out from her if there are any caverns in the hills immediately north of Kellands! If she knows of any, get her to tell you where they are; but particularly warn her to say nothing of this to Miss Nell! Or, indeed, to anyone! But she won’t! You may tell her also, if you please, that I fancy I may have chanced upon what concerns Henry Stornaway and Coate nearly, but that I do not wish to add to Miss Nell’s anxieties, and so would prefer she should know nothing about it.”
Chirk’s bright, keen eyes were fixed on his face. “And have you, Soldier?” he asked.
“I don’t know, but I believe it to be possible. Do you know the lane that leads up to the moors, half a mile to the east of the gate?” Chirk nodded. “Very well! I rode up it, soon after dawn today—exercising my horse. I met Henry Stornaway on it. If he could have hidden from me, he would have done so, but there’s no cover: I saw him as plainly as I see you! Whether he knew that I had recognized him, I can’t say. He was making his way back to Kellands on foot: I was cantering up the lane, Beau has a long stride, and there was too much mist for either of us to see the other until we were almost abreast. For one instant I saw his face, and I can tell you this, Jerry Chirk!—he had the look of a man who had seen a ghost! Also—and mark this!—he carried a lantern! It was not alight, and for a time I supposed he must have used it only to show him the road, hours earlier. To be sure, the sky was overcast last night, but there was light enough for one to see one’s way! It had me in a puzzle to know what he should have wanted with a lantern until I remembered suddenly something Miss Nell said to me once, about the the caverns that are to be found amongst these limestone hills. If you meant to penetrate into one of those, you would need a lantern, of course.”
“I daresay you would,” agreed Chirk. “But—lor’ bless you, Soldier, what kind of a rig do you think a couple of flash coves like Stornaway and that Coate have got on hand?”
“I can’t tell that, but I’ve reason to suspect that whatever it is, it’s a damned serious business! Be a good fellow, now, and go up to Kellands! And discover, if you can, if all’s well there!”
“What about that cove?” Chirk asked, with another jerk of his thumb towards the kitchen.
“He’s putting up at the Blue Boar. I’ll get rid of him somehow. There’s nothing much amiss with him but a splitting head, but if necessary, I’ll mount him on the mare, and lead him to the village. You be off to Kellands before Rose has gone to bed!”
“You won’t be satisfied till you see me in York Gaol, will you, Soldier?” said Chirk, with a wry smile. “What with one thing and another, it seems to me I’m getting out of my depth—and I was never much of a swimmer. It’s to be hoped that cove in there didn’t twig what my lay is.”
“He knows that well enough, but he don’t know your name, and in any event I believe he wouldn’t cry rope on you. If it hadn’t been for you, he’d be cold meat now, and that he knows too! You go to Kellands!”
Mr. Chirk, not as loth to obey this command as he chose to pretend, allowed himself to be thrust out of the tollhouse; and the Captain, first satisfying himself that Ben was still sunk in the heavy sleep of weary youth, softly opened the door into the kitchen. Mr. Stogumber, his head fallen a little sideways, was breathing stertorously, his legs stretched out before him, and one arm hanging limply outside the chair, its hand almost touching the floor. The Captain shut the door again, and went to sit on the bench outside the house. Heavy snores presently assailed his ears. He got up, and went to collect a cigarillo from his bedroom, and, having kindled it at the lamp burning on the table in the office, retired again to the bench, and for a long time sat smoking, and gazing with slightly knit brows at the star-scattered sky.
It must have been three quarters of an hour later when the snores ceased; and the Captain had twice struck a light from his tinderbox to enable him to read his watch. He waited for a minute, for once or twice the snores had stopped with a choking snort, only to start again almost immediately, but this time there was no recurrence of the rhythmic sounds. He went back into the kitchen, and found Stogumber yawning, and tenderly feeling his head.
“Well, you look a degree better,” he remarked, going over to the fire, and stirring the logs to a blaze. “How’s your head?”
“Setting aside it’s got a lump on it the size of your fist, it ain’t so bad,” responded Stogumber. “It’s a mighty hard head, d’ye see? I been asleep. Where’s t’other cove?”
“Gone,” said John, pouring the cold coffee, carefully saved by Mrs. Skeffling from his breakfast-table, into a pan, and bringing it to the fire.
“I’m sorry for that,” said Stogumber, rising rather stiffly from the chair. “I disremember that I thanked him for what he done.”
“You did, but it’s no matter: he wanted no thanks. He’s a very good fellow. Keep quiet till you’ve drunk this coffee: it’ll make you feel more the thing.”
“If it’s all the same to you, big ’un, I’d as lief put my coat on again: I’ve got a bit chilly.”
“As you please,” John said indifferently. “I’m afraid it’s done for, however: you bled like a pig, you know! I threw it somewhere—” he glanced over his shoulder—“ay, there it is! Don’t stoop! I’ll get it for you!” He set the pan down in the hearth as he spoke, and walked over to where the coat and waistcoat lay. He had thrust the notebook under the skirt of the coat, and as he picked the coat up it was revealed. He said: “Hallo! This yours?”
“That’s right,” Mr. Stogumber said, holding out his hand, but keeping his eyes on John’s face.
But the Captain, casually giving him the notebook, seemed to be more interested in the condition of the coat. He showed the rent in it, and the wide patch of drying blood, to its owner, grimacing expressively, “You won’t wear this again,” he remarked.