A Dog with a Bad Name Part 27

Wildtree Towers had been thrown into a state of unmistakable panic when, at the usual hour of retiring for the night, Percy had not put in an appearance. His absence at dinner-time agitated no one but his mother; and the search inst.i.tuted at her bidding began languidly, and with the usual a.s.surance of a speedy discovery. But as hour pa.s.sed hour and no tidings came, things began to look serious, and even Walker pulled a long face.

Midnight came, and still no tidings. Appleby came up to the house for a lantern, but had nothing to report beyond the fact that the search so far had been unsuccessful. The minutes dragged on for the unhappy watchers. It was harder far for them to sit there in the hall, listening to the unsympathetic tick of the clock and starting at every sound on the gravel without, than it was for the father to tramp through the woods and trace the footsteps along the river's bank.

At last the clock struck two, and scarcely had the chimes ceased, when Walker put up his finger, and exclaimed,--

"Hist!"

A moment of terrible silence ensued. Then on their quickened hearing there came a distant rumble of wheels. Almost at the same instant footsteps came tearing up the gravel drive. It was Appleby, who rushed into the midst of the group a.s.sembled on the doorstep.

"All right--he's found!" gasped the lad.

"Is he alive?" cried the mother.

"On a cart!" exclaimed the panting Appleby.

Mrs Rimbolt gave a little shriek, and fell into her husband's arms.

Raby, nerved by the very agony of the suspense, rushed out and ran down the drive to meet the cart.

"Is Percy there?" she cried.

The cart stopped abruptly, and a strange voice replied,--

"Yes--safe and well and fast asleep."

The words fell like music on the girl's ears. It was too dark to see anything but the shadowy form of the cart and of a man walking at the horse's head. She darted back to the house with the joyful news, and in another minute the cart stood at the door. Percy, who was decidedly enjoying his sleep, felt by no means as grateful as he should have been to find himself disturbed at this early hour of the night.

"All serene! all serene!" he growled, in response to his mother's caresses and Walker's effusive shaking of the hand. "I'm all right, mother; I want to go to bed."

"Get the hot bath ready," said Mrs Rimbolt to the servants. "My poor boy!"

"I tell you I'm all serene; can't you let me go to bed?" said the half- awake Percy. "I don't want anything except sleep."

"Walker, help Master Percy up to bed; let him take our room, and light a fire in it, and put hot bottles in the bed."

Percy, thankful to get back to his slumbers at any price, allowed Walker to help him up stairs. At the door of his own room he stopped.

"That will do; you can cut. Walker."

"But you're to have the best room and a fire--"

"You be hanged!" exclaimed the boy, unceremoniously slamming the door in Walker's face, and locking himself in.

Downstairs, meanwhile, Jeffreys was being besieged with questions on all hands, which he endeavoured as best he could to answer. Mr Rimbolt, however perceiving that very little good was to be got out of this confused cross-examination, asked him to follow him into the library, once more suggesting to his wife and niece that they should go to bed.

Jeffreys was thankful to find himself in a serene atmosphere, and despite all the agitation and excitement of the day, his heart warmed as he looked round on the bookshelves and their friendly occupants.

"Now," said Mr Rimbolt, who had made no attempt to take part in the babel outside, "will you please tell me everything?"

Jeffreys obeyed, and told his story in a concise and intelligent manner, which convinced Mr Rimbolt he had not only an honest man but a gentleman to deal with. The master of Wildtree was not an effusive man, and if Jeffreys had looked to be overwhelmed with grateful speeches he would have been disappointed. But he had not looked for it, and valued far more the quiet confidential manner in which Mr Rimbolt entered into all the details of the narrative.

"Then," said the latter, when the story was ended, "as a matter of fact you have the three ruffians penned in the shed by your dog at this moment--an excellent piece of management."

He rang his bell, and Walker, who had felt quite out of it for the half- hour, appeared with great prompt.i.tude.

"Walker, are any of the men about still?"

"Appleby is holding this man's horse at the hall door, sir."

"Send Appleby here, and take the horse and cart round to the farm."

Poor Walker! This was a sad cut. The farm was half a mile away, across the park; and this order meant that for another hour at least he must be an outsider in the drama.

"Appleby," said Mr Rimbolt, when that jaunty youth appeared, "take Benbow, and ride as quickly as you can, to the police-office at Overstone. Tell the inspector with my compliments, to meet me with three constables at Rodnet Bridge at six o'clock, that is, in three hours. Come back as quickly as you can, and have the dog-cart at the door at five."

"Now," said he to Jeffreys, when these various matters of business had been put in train, "we may as well occupy our time by getting something to eat, supper and breakfast in one--I dare say you are hungry."

As Jeffreys had scarcely eaten anything for three days--in fact, since his visit to Grangerham--he could honestly admit being ready for a meal.

"I'm afraid we must forage for ourselves, unless some one is about,"

said Mr Rimbolt, leading the way to the pantry.

It was a curious spectacle that of the millionaire and the tramp together investigating the contents of the pantry shelves and lockers, lifting up dish-covers here, and critically testing the consistency of pie-crusts there. They made a fairly good selection of the good things which came nearest to hand, and retiring with them to the adjacent kitchen, accomplished a meal more luxurious to Jeffreys' mind than any he had tasted since he left Bolsover.

This done, to his great satisfaction they adjourned once more to the library, where, while Mr Rimbolt took a brief nap, he regaled himself with the luxury of a prowl among the bookshelves, by the light of the dawning day. So absorbed was he in this occupation that he did not hear the sound of the dog-cart at the front door, or heed Mr Rimbolt's first summons to start.

"You're fond of books, surely," said that gentleman, as the two got up into the trap and drove off, with Appleby perched behind.

"I love them," said Jeffreys, in the same tone of sincerity which had attracted the York bookseller.

"You're a reader, then?"

"I would be if I had the chance," said Jeffreys.

"You are thinking of my library," said Mr Rimbolt; "but it doesn't follow, you know, that having a house full of books makes a reader. A man may often get more good out of one tattered volume than out of an entire Russia-bound library."

"I can quite believe that," said Jeffreys.

"Probably you know what a favourite book is?" said Mr Rimbolt rather curiously.

Jeffreys replied by producing his well-worn copy of Homer, and it would be hard to say which of these two foolish persons evinced the most enthusiasm in discovering that they both alike had a friend in the old Greek bard. At any rate the discovery levelled at once the social differences which divided them; and in the discussion which ensued, I blush to say they forgot, for the time being, all about Percy, and the shed on the mountain-side, and the three gentlemen there to whom the genial Julius was doing the honours.

The appearance of the inspector and three constables at Rodnet Bridge brought the two unpractical excursionists on Mount Olympus abruptly back to level ground. The business was soon explained. The police, of course, knew all about the "parties"--when do they not? They had been following them up for days, had had their suspicions of that mountain shed for weeks, and so on. They couldn't exactly say they had known all about the attempt to kidnap last night; but they knew all about it now, for Appleby had let it out, and the "active and intelligent" in consequence had nothing to learn. Half an hour brought them to the mountain-side. Mr Rimbolt and Jeffreys dismounted, leaving Appleby in charge of the trap, while they, followed in single file by the police, ascended the narrow track towards the shed. Half-way up, Jeffreys whistled; and a joyous bark from Julius a.s.sured the party that their game was safe.

"You'd better let me go first," said Jeffreys to the inspector, who showed some anxiety to be foremost in the capture, "unless you want my dog to fly at you."

The official fell back promptly, his native modesty getting the better of his zeal; and the party halted twenty yards from the shed while Jeffreys advanced to reconnoitre. He saw at a glance that things were not exactly as he had left them. Two out of the three prisoners remained securely bound, but the unlucky Corporal had slipped his feet from the cords, and paid dearly for his folly. Julius had him down on the ground, daring him to move a limb or even turn his head on pain of unheard-of laceration. The wretched fellow had cursed a thousand times his own artfulness. For three hours he had lain thus, not daring to stir a muscle; and if ever a night's experiences are enough to turn the hair grey, Corporal should not have a single black lock left that morning.

"Come off, Julius, and let them alone," said Jeffreys.

Julius obeyed somewhat reluctantly, though the pleasant task of welcoming his master's return reconciled him somewhat to the abandonment of his sovereignty. Jeffreys beckoned to the party to advance.