Ambrotox and Limping Dick Part 16

"Is it beer again? I said not more than a tumbler of whisky before lunch. Beer always plays h.e.l.l with him."

"Then you should give 'im 'arshish, sir," said the c.o.c.kney. "It's the Injin 'emp 'e needs. But 'e ain't smelt beer since we left Millsborough.

Somethin's just appeared to 'im, and 'e ain't 'arf copped it."

"Appeared? Tell me what happened," said Melchard, querulously.

"Fell right down the stair, tray and all," said Black Beard, "just as if he'd been pushed."

Melchard was stooping over the scarce breathing body.

"He's not dead," he declared.

"He will be," said Black Beard, "unless you 'phone to Millsborough for a doctor d.a.m.n quick."

"Don't be a fool, Ockley. Better let him die than bring a sharp-witted medical pract.i.tioner to _my_ house, to-day of all days."

"If we have a death here in _your_ house," Ockley retorted, "they'll want to know _how_ and _why_ and _when_. And 'no doctor called'--and 'this shady Mr. Melchard'--and all the d.a.m.ned things that always happen.

Will that be good for your health--with the whole game in your hands, too?"

Melchard was. .h.i.t, and d.i.c.k thought that he saw his face lose colour.

"Well?" he said nervously.

"Either fetch medical aid," replied Ockley, "or bury him under the ash-heap. And that's going a bit far for an accident."

"Was he pushed? I wonder," said Melchard; and the pair, with heads together, spoke in whispers inaudible to d.i.c.k, who writhed himself six inches back from the bal.u.s.ter, in fear of the upward glance which might come at any moment.

He had heard enough, and his usual policy came into play.

Amaryllis was able to watch him without exposing herself to the eyes of the enemy; for they had gathered round the injured tray-bearer so near to her side of the hall that the floor of the gallery shut off their view of anything below the top of the arch round whose side she peered, crouching low.

d.i.c.k, then, she saw moving snake-wise to the stair; and she marvelled that, even in the hush of the voices below, no slightest sound of his movement reached her ear. Chin first, his head disappeared over the first step, the long body dragging after it, half-inch by half-inch, until all of him that she could see was the thick soles of his boots, clinging, as it appeared, by their toes to the edge of the highest step.

Her heart shook for his danger, which now so closely embraced her own that she forgot its separate significance.

The voices rose again.

"But you're a qualified man yourself," said Melchard. "You'll be responsible."

"Fat lot of good that'll do you," replied Black Beard. "Qualified, by G.o.d! When I can't prove it without proving also that I'm off the register, and that my name's not Ockley!" He broke off with an ugly laugh, then added: "Let's go up and see."

And now Amaryllis saw her serpent shoot up to a great rod of vengeance.

Before she could ask herself, "What is he going to do?" d.i.c.k Bellamy had done it; vaulting, even as he rose, over the rail of the stair, and, with an appalling scream which might have come from a maniac in frenzy, or the mortal agony of a wounded beast, literally falling upon his enemies.

His right foot caught Melchard between jaw and shoulder, shooting him supine and headlong upon the polished floor until his head hit the corner of the stone kerb about the hearth; while the left knee simultaneously struck the c.o.c.kney, who fell, with d.i.c.k's crouching weight full upon him, heavily to the ground; and Amaryllis, fear forgotten, leaning over the rail, heard at the same moment, but as separate sounds, the blow of the under man's head upon the boards and that of d.i.c.k's right fist on its left jaw.

Then d.i.c.k was on his feet again, but barely in time. For in the clamour and rushing fall of this wild figure, clad in grey flannel trousers and blue shirt, with lank black hair flying stiffly up and away from the savage mouth and blazing blue eyes, Ockley had leapt back out of reach.

But the little Spaniard, standing apart, was astonished; his dark eyes showed wide rings of white eyeball, and the open mouth teeth even whiter, as he stared, aghast yet curious, at the living thunderbolt which had fallen so near to him.

Ockley, however, directly his eyes had taken in what he had leapt back from, had begun what even Amaryllis could see was the rush of an expert.

He did not, indeed, catch d.i.c.k upon his knees, as she had feared, but left him little time to steady himself. She could see that the big man was brave, and as strong as a bull, so that hers looked slender by comparison.

But d.i.c.k was less unprepared than he seemed. Arms hanging and face vacuous, he side-stepped smartly to the left, escaping a swinging right aimed at his head, and, as the great body pa.s.sed, drove a short, heavy left punch under the still raised right arm, which shook Ockley severely and, increasing the impetus of his attack, sent him staggering against the bal.u.s.trade of the stair.

And now the Spaniard found what he had been looking for.

"Por Dios!" he wailed, "it iss Limping Deek!" and so fled.

d.i.c.k followed up his advantage, forcing the pace, but Ockley would have none of it until he had worked himself into the middle of the floor; then suddenly coming again, got home with a tremendous right which d.i.c.k failed to stop with anything better than his left cheek-bone.

The blow was well timed and delivered with the full force of a strong man fighting scientifically, perhaps for his life; and d.i.c.k Bellamy knew that, hard as he kept himself, he could not afford to take another of its kind.

Crouching, he watched Black Beard between his fists which protected his face, the perpendicular fore-arms guarding his body; and in the moment while his sight was clearing, he heard, from somewhere above him, a little agonized moan, and found himself again.

Ockley, elated, pursued his advantage with a savage left drive which might have proved worse for d.i.c.k than the right which had just split his cheek, had he not, ducking to his right in perfect time, met the big man with a heavy left jolt in the mouth, and, simultaneously advancing his right foot and straightening his body, followed it up with a right to the jaw that knocked his opponent full length. He fell and lay beyond the projection of the hearth on the other side of which was Melchard, still as death.

CHAPTER XIII.

THE KNIFE-THROWER.

With the sleeve of his shirt d.i.c.k wiped the blood from his cheek, looked down at Ockley, and then up at Amaryllis, half-way down the stair.

"That's four. Where's the fifth?" he asked.

"He ran out there," she answered. "You frightened him."

"Come down," said d.i.c.k; and when she reached the floor, she found him kneeling by Melchard, searching his pockets.

She came close and touched him on the shoulder.

"Let's get out of the house--now, now!" she pleaded, lowering her voice in the presence of so much that looked like death.

"Pocket these," said d.i.c.k, handing behind him some letters and a pocket-book.

With a sharp tug he disengaged the side-pocket wedged between Melchard's body and the floor, and from it took out a small parcel wrapped in white paper. Of its two seals one had been broken. He peered into the opened end.

"Small bottle--white powder," he said.

"That's it," replied Amaryllis. "Do let's go--please."

"Was there anything else?" he asked.

"Oh, do come away. I'm frightened," said the girl, imploring.

"So'm I--badly," said d.i.c.k, and rose to his feet.