Cleek of Scotland Yard Part 13

"Meaning what, old chap?"

"That I've been as big an a.s.s as any of the thistle-eating kind that ever walked. Gad! such an indiscretion! Such an example of pure brainlessness! And the worst of it is that it's all due to my own wretched vanity--my own miserable weakness for the theatrical and the spectacular! It came to me suddenly--while I was standing there explaining things to Miss Renfrew--and I could have kicked myself for my folly."

"Folly? What folly?"

"'What folly?' What? Good heavens, man, use your wits! Isn't it enough for me to be a blockhead without you entering the lists along with me?" said Cleek, irritably. "Or, no! Forgive that, dear friend. My nerves were speaking, not my heart. But in moments like this--when we had built a safe bridge, and my own stupidity has hacked it down--Faugh! I tell you I could kick myself. Didn't you hear? Didn't you see?"

"I saw that for some special reason you were suddenly obsessed with a desire to get out of the house in the midst of your talking with Miss Renfrew, if that's what you refer to--is it?"

"Not altogether. It's part of it, however. But not the worst part, unfortunately. It was at that moment then the recollection of my indiscretion came to me and I realized what a dolt I had been--how completely I had destroyed our splendid security, wrecked what little still remains of this glorious holiday--when I couldn't let 'George Headland' have the centre of the stage, but needs must come in like the hero of a melodrama and announce myself as Cleek. To Nosworth and his wife! To Nippers! To all that gaping crowd! You remember that incident, surely?"

"Yes. Of course I do. But what of it?"

"What of it? Man alive, with a chap like that Nippers, how long do you suppose it will remain a secret that Cleek is in Yorkshire?

In the West Riding of it? In this particular locality? Travelling about with Mr. Maverick Narkom in a caravan--a _caravan_ that can't cover five miles of country in the time a train or a motor car is able to get over fifty!"

"Good lud! I never thought of that. But wait a bit. There's a way to overcome that difficulty, of course. Stop here a minute or two and I'll run back and pledge that Nippers fool to keep his mouth shut about it. He'll give me his promise, _I_ know."

"To be sure he will. But how long do you suppose he will keep it?

How long do you suppose that an empty-headed, gabbling old fool like that fellow will refrain from increasing his own importance in the neighbourhood by swaggering about and boasting of his intimacy with the powers at Scotland Yard and--the rest of it? And even if he shouldn't, what about the others? The gathering of rustics that heard what he heard? The gamekeepers from the Droger estate? The Nosworths, as well as they? Can their mouths, too, be shut? They will not love me for this night's business, be sure.

Then, too, they have lived in Paris. The woman is French by birth.

Of Montmartre--of the Apache cla.s.s, the Apache kind--and she will know of the 'Cracksman,' be a.s.sured. So will her husband.

And they won't take their medicine lying down, believe me. An accused man has the right to communicate with counsel, remember; and a wire up to London will cost less than a shilling. So, as between Margot's crew and our friend Count Waldemar--_la, la!_ There you are."

Mr. Narkom screwed up his face and said something under his breath.

He could not but follow this line of reasoning when the thing was put before him so plainly.

"And we had been so free from all worry over the beggars up to this!"

he said, savagely. "But to get a hint--to pick up the scent--out here--in a wild bit of country like this! Cinnamon, it makes me sweat! What do you propose to do?"

"The only thing that's left us to do," gave back Cleek. "Get out of it as quickly as possible and draw a red herring over the scent. In other words, put back to Dollops, abandon the caravan, make our way to some place where it is possible to telephone for the chap we hired it from to send out and get it; then, to make tracks for home."

"Yes, but why bother about telephoning, old chap? Why can't we drop in ourselves and tell the man when we get back to Sheffield on our way to London?"

"Because we are not going back to Sheffield, my friend--not going in for anything so silly as twice travelling over the same ground, if it's all the same to you," replied Cleek, as he swung off from the highway on to the dark, still moor and struck out for the place where they had left Dollops and the caravan. "At best, we can't be more than thirty miles from the boundary line of c.u.mberland. A night's walking will cover that. There we can rest a while--at some little out-of-the-way hostelry--then take a train over the Scottish border and make for Dumfries. From that point on, the game is easy.

There are six trains a day leaving for St. Pancras and eight for Euston. We can choose which we like, and a seven hours' ride will land us in London without having once 'doubled on our tracks' or crossed the route by which we came out of it."

"By James! what a ripping idea," said Mr. Narkom approvingly. "Come along then, old chap--let's get back to the boy and be about it as soon as possible." Then he threw open his coat and waistcoat to get the full benefit of the air before facing the ordeal, and, falling into step with Cleek, struck out over the moor at so brisk a dog trot that his short, fat legs seemed fairly to twinkle.

CHAPTER XI

By the side of the little chattering stream that flowed through the bit of woodland where Mr. Nippers and his a.s.sociates had come upon them, they found Dollops, with his legs drawn up, his arms folded across his knees and his forehead resting upon them, sleeping serenely over the embers of a burnt-out fire. He was still "making music," but of a kind which needed no a.s.sistance from a mouth harmonica to produce it.

They awoke him and told him of the sudden change in the programme and of the need for haste in carrying it out.

"Oh, so help me! Them Apaches, eh? And that foreign josser, Count What's-his-name, too?" said he, rubbing his eyes and blinking sleepily. "Right you are, guv'ner! Gimme two seconds to get the cobwebs out of my thinking-box and I'm ready to face marching orders as soon as you like. My hat! though, but this is a startler. I can understand wot them Apache johnnies has got against you, sir, of course; but wot that Mauravanian biscuit is getting after you for beats me. Wot did you ever do to the blighter, guv'ner? Trip him up in some little bit of crooked business, sir, and 'did him down,' as the 'Mericans say?"

"Something like that," returned Cleek. "Don't waste time in talking.

Simply get together such things as we shall need and let us be off about our business as soon as possible."

Dollops obeyed instructions upon both points--obeyed them, indeed, with such alacrity that he shut up like an oyster forthwith, dived into the caravan and bounced out again, and within five minutes of the time he had been told of the necessity for starting, had started, and was forging away with the others over the dark, still moor and facing cheerily the prospect of a thirty-mile walk to c.u.mberlandshire.

All through the night they pressed onward thus--the two men walking shoulder to shoulder and the boy at their heels--over vast stretches of moorland where bracken and gra.s.s hung heavy and glittering under their weight of dew; down the craggy sides of steep gullies where the spring freshets had quickened mere trickles into noisy water-splashes that spewed over the rocks, to fall into chuckling, froth-filled pools below; along twisting paths; through the dark, still woodland stretches, and thence out upon the wild, wet moor again, with the wind in their faces and the sky all a-p.r.i.c.kle with steadily dimming stars. And by and by the mist-wrapped moon dropped down out of sight, the worn-out night dwindled and died, and steadily brightening Glory went blushing up the east to flower the pathway for the footfalls of the Morning.

But as yet the farthermost outposts of c.u.mberland were miles beyond the range of vision, so that the long tramp was by no means ended, and, feeling the necessity for covering as much ground as possible while the world at large was still in what Dollops was wont to allude to as "the arms of Murphy's house," the little party continued to press onward persistently.

By four o'clock they were again off the moors and in the depths of craggy gorges; by five they were on the borders of a deep, still tarn, and had called a halt to light a fire and get things out of the bag which Dollops carried--things to eat and to drink and to wear--and were enjoying a plunge in the ice-cold water the while the coffee was boiling; and by six--gorged with food and soothed by tobacco--they were lying sprawled out on the fragrant earth and blinking drowsily while their boots were drying before the fire. And after that there was a long hiatus until Cleek's voice rapped out saying sharply, "Well, I'll be dashed! Rouse up there, you lazy beggars. Do you know that it's half-past twelve and we've been sleeping for hours?"

They knew it then, be a.s.sured, and were up and on their way again with as little delay as possible. Rested and refreshed, they made such good time that two o'clock found them in the Morcam Abbey district, just over the borders of c.u.mberland, and, with appet.i.tes sharpened for luncheon, bearing down on a quaint little hostlery whose signboard announced it as the Rose and Thistle.

"Well, there's hospitality if you like," said Cleek, as, at their approach, a cheery-faced landlady bobbed up at an open window and, seeing them, bobbed away again and ran round to welcome them with smiles and curtseys delivered from the arch of a vine-bowered door.

"Welcome, gentlemen, welcome," beamed she as they came up and joined her. "But however in the world did you manage to get over here so soon?--the train not being due at Shepperton Old Cross until five-and-twenty past one, and that a good mile and a quarter away as the crow flies. However, better too early than too late--Major Norcross and Lady Mary being already here and most anxious to meet you."

As it happened that neither Cleek nor Mr. Narkom had any personal acquaintance with the lady and gentleman mentioned, it was so clearly a case of mistaken ident.i.ty that the superintendent had it on the tip of his tongue to announce the fact, when there clashed out the sound of a door opening and shutting rapidly, a clatter of hasty footsteps along the pa.s.sage, and presently there came into view the figure of a bluff, hearty, florid-faced man of about five-and-forty, who thrust the landlady aside and threw a metaphorical bombsh.e.l.l by exclaiming excitedly:

"My dear sir, I never was so delighted. Talk about English slowness.

Why, this is prompt enough to satisfy a Yankee. I never dispatched my letter to you until late yesterday afternoon, Mr. Narkom, and--by the way, which _is_ Mr. Narkom, and which that amazing Mr.

Cleek? Or, never mind--perhaps that clever johnnie will be coming later; you can tell me all about that afterward. For the present, come along. Let's not keep Lady Mary waiting--she's anxious. This way, please."

Here--as Mr. Narkom had lost no time in acknowledging his ident.i.ty, it being clear that no mistake had been made after all--here he caught the superintendent by the arm, whisked him down the pa.s.sage, and throwing open the door at the end of it, announced excitedly, "All right, Mary. The Yard's answered--the big reward's caught 'em, as I knew it would--and here's Narkom. That chap Cleek will come by a later train, no doubt."

The response to this came from an unexpected quarter. Of a sudden the man he had left standing at the outer door, under the impression that he was in no way connected with the superintendent, but merely a gentleman who had reached the inn at the same time, came down the pa.s.sage to the open door, brushed past him into the room, and announced gravely, "Permit me to correct an error, please, Major. The 'man Cleek' is not coming later--he is here, and very much at your and Lady Mary Norcross' service, believe me. I have long known the name of Major Seton Norcross as one which stands high in the racing world--as that, indeed, of the gentleman who owns the finest stud in the kingdom and whose filly, Highland La.s.sie, is first favourite for the forthcoming Derby--and I now have the honour of meeting the gentleman himself, it seems."

The effect of this was somewhat disconcerting. For, as he concluded it, he put out his hand and rested it upon Mr. Narkom's shoulder, whereat Lady Mary half rose from her seat, only to sit down again suddenly and look round at her liege lord with uplifted eyebrows and lips slightly parted. Afterward she declared of the two men standing side by side in that familiar manner: "One reminded me of an actor trying to play the part of a person of distinction, and the other of a person of distinction trying to play the part of an ordinary actor and not quite able to keep what he really was from showing through the veneer of what he was trying to be."

The major, however, was too blunt to bottle up his sentiments at any time, and being completely bowled over in the present instance put them into bluff, outspoken, characteristic words.

"Oh, gum games!" he blurted out. "If you really are Cleek----"

"I really am. Mr. Narkom will stand sponsor for that."

"But, good lud, man! Oh, look here, you know, this is all tommyrot!

What under G.o.d's heaven has brought a chap like you down to this sort of thing?"

"Opinions differ upon that score, Major," said Cleek quietly. "So far from being 'brought down,' it is my good friend, Mr. Narkom here, who has brought me _up_ to it--and made me his debtor for life."

"Debtor nothing! Don't talk rubbish. As if it were possible for a gentleman not to recognize a gentleman!"

"It would not be so easy, I fear, if he were a good actor--and you have just done me the compliment of indirectly telling me that I must be one. It is very nice of you but--may we not let it go at that? I fancy from what I hear that I, too, shall soon be in the position to pay compliments, Major. I hear on every side that Highland La.s.sie is sure to carry off the Derby--in fact that, unless a miracle occurs, there'll be no horse 'in it' but her."

Here both the major and his wife grew visibly excited.

"Gad, sir!" exclaimed he, in a voice of deep despair. "I'm afraid you will have to amend that statement so that it may read, 'unless a miracle occurs there will be _every_ horse in it but her'--every blessed one from Dawson-Blake's Tarantula, the second favourite, down to the last 'also ran' of the lot."