Back to Billabong Part 13

There was silence, and a whispered consultation. Then Avice spoke.

"Will you give us your word of honour you weren't going to run away?"

Words of honour meant little to the young Rainhams. But they knew that Cecilia held it as a commonplace of decent behaviour that people did not tell lies. They had, indeed, often marvelled that she preferred to "take her gruel" rather than use any ready untruth that would have shielded her from their mother's wrath. Avice and Wilfred had no such scruples on their own account: but they knew that they could depend upon Cecilia's word. They were, indeed, just a little afraid of their own action in locking her up; their mother might have condoned it as "high spirits,"

but their father was not unlikely to take a different view. So they awaited her reply with some anxiety.

Cecilia hesitated. Never in her life had she been so tempted. Perhaps because the temptation was so strong she answered swiftly.

"No--I won't tell you anything of the kind. But look here--if you will let me out I'll give you each ten shillings."

Ten shillings! It was wealth, and the children gasped. Wilfred, indeed, would have shot back the bolt instantly. It was Avice who caught at his arm.

"Don't you!" she whispered. "It'll cost heaps more than that to get a new governess--and we'll make Mater give us each ten shillings for keeping her. I say, we'll have to get the Pater home."

"How?" Wilfred looked at her blankly.

"Easy. You go to the post office and telephone to him at his office.

Tell him to come at once. I'll watch here, in case Eliza lets her out.

Run--hard as you can. Mater'll never forgive us if she gets away."

Wilfred clattered off obediently, awed by his sister's urgency. Avice sat down on the head of the stairs, close to the bolted door; and when Cecilia spoke again, repeating her offer, she answered her in a voice unpleasantly like her mother's:

"No, you don't, my fine lady. Wilfred's gone for the Pater--he'll be here presently. You just stay there quietly till he comes."

"Avice!" The word was a wail. "Oh, you don't know how important it is--let me out. I'll give you anything in the world."

"So'll Mater if I stop your little game," said Avice. "You just keep quiet."

Eliza's sharp little face appeared at the foot of the flight of stairs.

"Wot's up, Miss Avice? Anyfink wrong with Miss 'Cilia?"

"Nothing to do with you," said Avice rudely. "I'm looking after her."

But Cecilia's sharp ears had caught the new voice.

"Eliza! Eliza!" she called.

The girl came up the stairs uncertainly. Avice rose to confront her.

"Now, you just keep off," she said. "You're not coming past here. The master'll be home directly, and till he comes, no one's going up these stairs." She raised her voice, to drown that of Cecilia, who was speaking again.

Eliza looked at her doubtfully. She was an undersized, wizened little c.o.c.kney, and Avice was a big, stoutly-built girl--who held, moreover, the advantage of a commanding position on the top step. In an encounter of strength there was little doubt as to who would win. She turned in silence, cowed, and went down to the kitchen, while Avice sang a triumphant song, partly as a chant of victory, and partly to make sure that no one would hear the remarks that Cecilia was steadily making. She herself had caught one phrase--"Tell my brother"--and her sharp little mind was busy. Did that mean that Bob would be coming, against its mistress's orders, to Lancaster Gate.

In the kitchen Eliza poured out a frantic appeal to Cook.

"She's got Miss 'Cilia locked up--the little red-'eaded cat! An' Master Wilfred gorn to fetch the Master! Oh, come on, Cookie darlin', an' we'll let 'er out."

Cook shook her head slowly.

"Not good enough," she said. "I got a pretty good place. I ain't goin'

to risk it by 'avin' a rough-an'-tumble with the daughter of the 'ouse on the hattic stairs. You better leave well alone, Liza. You done your bit, 'elpin' 'er git them trunks orf yes'day."

"Wot's the good of 'avin the trunks off if she can't go, too?" demanded Eliza.

"Oh, she'll git another chance. Don't worry your 'ead so much over other people's business. If the Master comes 'ome an' finds us scruffin' 'is daughter, 'e'll 'and us both over to the police for a.s.sault--an' then you'll 'ave cause for worry. Now you git along like a good gel--I got to mike pastry." Cook turned away decisively.

Wilfred had come home and had raced up the stairs.

"Did you get him?" Avice cried.

"No--he was out. So I left a message that he was to come home at once, 'cause something was wrong."

"That'll bring him," said Avice with satisfaction. "Now, look here, Wilf--I believe Bob may come. You go and be near the front door, to block Eliza, if he does. Answer any ring."

"What'll I say if he comes?"

"Say she's gone out to meet him--if he thinks that, he'll hurry back to wherever they were to meet. Don't give him a chance to get in. Hurry!"

"Right," said Wilfred, obeying. He sat down in a hall chair, and took up a paper, with an eye wary for Eliza. Half an hour pa.s.sed tediously, while upstairs Cecilia begged and bribed in vain. Then he sprang to his feet as a ring came.

Bob was at the door; and suddenly Wilfred realized that he had always been afraid of Bob. He quailed inwardly, for never had he seen his half-brother look as he did now--with a kind of still, terrible anger in his eyes.

"Where's Cecilia?"

"Gone out," said the boy.

"Where?"

"Gone to meet you."

"Did she tell you so?"

"Yes, of course--how'd I know if she didn't?"

"Then that's a lie, for she wouldn't tell you. Let me in."

"I tell you, she's gone out," said Wilfred, whose only spark of remaining courage was due to the fact that he had prudently kept the door on the chain. "And Mater said you weren't to come in here."

From the area below a shrill voice floated upwards.

"Mr. Bob! Mr. Bob! Daon't you believe 'im. They got Miss 'Cilia locked up in 'er room."

"By Jove!" said Bob between his teeth. "Bless you, Eliza! Open that door, Wilfred, or I'll make it hot for you." He thrust a foot into the opening, with a face so threatening that Wilfred shrank back.

"I shan't," he said. "You're not going to get her."

"Am I not?" said Bob. He leaned back, and then suddenly flung all his weight against the door. The chain was old and the links eaten with rust--it snapped like a carrot, and the door flew open. Bob brushed Wilfred out of his way, and went upstairs, three at a time.

Avice blocked his path.