Dead Man's Love Part 30

"Old Blowfield went to the door and opened it, and I had a look out, too. And there was the young lady," he went on, lowering his voice, "going along the hall, and taking not the slightest notice of anybody.

She opened the door, and left it open; she walked across the garden; she opened the gate, and left that open. Old Blowfield and me walked after her, never so much as saying a word. There was a carriage waiting at the gate, and she got into it and shut the door; then the carriage drove away. And all the time she had never said a word. Old Blowfield laughed, and shut the door, and went back to his room, and I went back too. And that's the end of it."

I sank down into a chair, and hid my face in my hands, and gave myself up to my own bitter thoughts. What power had I against such arts as these? What could I do, when a man could so steal the very soul out of a woman and make her do his bidding in this fashion? What might not have happened in all these hours during which I, drugged into a false security, had stayed in this place, doing nothing but dream dreams? I sprang to my feet at last, for I felt that this was no time for idle dreaming. The time had come for action, and I would step now into the matter, with no thought for myself, or for what might happen to me. It must be Debora first, and Debora always; I would save her, if I dipped my hands in blood to do it.

"What are you going to do?" asked Andrew, staring at me.

"I don't know yet," I answered him. "It depends on whether I can get what I want by peaceful means; I'm going to try that first. After that, I'm going to surprise certain friends of ours--give them such a shaking-up as they'll remember to the end of their days."

"And what are you going to do to old Blowfield?" he asked; and I thought I saw in his face that he would relish anything that might happen to his master.

"What I'm going to do to old Blowfield, as you call him, won't bear thinking about," I said. "Now, I don't want you to get into trouble; you'd better cut off. I'm very grateful to you; I'm sorry if I seemed impatient. Good-night!"

He gripped my hand, and went downstairs. I followed him and let him out into the silent street; saw him flutter off round the corner like a long, awkward ghost. Then I closed the door and went upstairs again.

I own I was puzzled what to do. My own crude methods had failed hitherto; I must, if possible, meet subtlety with subtlety. Of what use was it for me to induce Debora to come willingly to me, if all my plans could be upset in a moment by Dr. Just, as they had been this day? Yet I knew that I must first go to that house in which she was imprisoned; my business with Zabdiel Blowfield could wait, I told myself fiercely.

I got a tram down to Highgate, cursing its slowness all the way; and so at last stood outside the house, not having yet made up my mind what to do. I opened the gate cautiously, and went into the grounds. I saw that the house, so far as the front, at least, was concerned, was in darkness. I knew that it would be madness to attempt to obtain admittance in the usual fashion; I determined to break into the house, as I had done once before.

I was on the very point of selecting my window, when I heard a rustling among the leaves close to me; I drew back and waited. There came into sight out of the shadows William Capper; but not the William Capper I seemed to have known. For this man stood alert and ready, and the face I saw in the light of the stars was the keen, watchful face I had surprised before. He seemed to be waiting for something; he, too, was watching the house. Determined to put the matter to the test, I stepped out quickly from my hiding-place and confronted him.

The instant change in the man was surprising; but this time it did not deceive me. I gripped the now drooping figure by the shoulder and shook him. He looked up at me with that vacant smile on his face, but said nothing.

"What's the game, Capper?" I asked quickly in a whisper. "Why are you pretending you don't understand things, and can't remember things? I hate this man Just, quite as much as you do; why won't you confide in me?"

For a moment I thought he was going to do so; he kept very still under my grip, and I knew that he was thinking the matter over carefully. It was almost as though I could see into his mind. But a moment later he seemed to come to some resolution; he looked up quickly, and shook his head, with that lost look again in his eyes.

"I don't understand," he whispered. "I don't remember."

"Yes, you do," I retorted roughly. "You're as sane as I am; and you've got some purpose in your mind--and I can guess what it is."

"You frighten me, sir," he said in a whisper. "I am old and feeble, and I have forgotten so many things. Please let me alone."

He did it so well, that for a moment I believed that I had not seen that change in him; at all events, I saw that I could do nothing with him, and I watched him as he drifted away among the trees and was lost to my sight. Then I turned my attention to the house.

But I found that every door and every window was strongly fastened and shuttered; evidently they had been expecting a visit from me. I had nothing with which I could effect an entrance, so that I merely raged round the place, in a futile fashion, in the darkness, wondering what I should do. Every now and then I thought I caught sight of the man Capper, dodging about in the shadows; but even of that I could not be sure. At last, in desperation, I went to the big hall-door and boldly rang the bell.

I waited for a long time, while I heard slight movements within the house; then there was a whispering behind the closed door. I had made up my mind that the moment that door was opened I would force my way in, at whatever risk. I prepared to rush the citadel now, by drawing back a little, where no light could reach me as the door was opened, so that I could force anyone who had answered my ringing to peer out. While I waited, I was certain that I saw Capper waiting, too, a few yards away.

My ruse succeeded. The door was opened a little way, and the voice of Martha Leach demanded to know who was there; then there was more whispering, and the door was opened a little further, and Martha Leach stepped out under the porch. I made one leap at her, and caught her in my arms; and before she quite knew what was happening, had literally rolled with her into the hall, keeping a tight clutch of her. In the confusion someone slammed the door, and I put my back against it.

I saw that it would be a matter of three to one, at the least, even though one of the three was partly disabled. The doctor had backed away as he saw us come flying in, and I think it must have been Harvey Scoffold who shut the door. I blurted out at once what I had to say.

"There's a young lady here--Miss Matchwick--detained against her will.

Where is she?"

"Turn that fellow out!" shouted the doctor. "Two of you ought to be able to manage him, I should think. Turn him out!"

Now, it is a most undignified thing to be tackled by a woman; yet I am bound to confess that in the rough and tumble that ensued, Martha Leach did more than her full share. Bardolph Just had run back into the house, and had set a bell ringing; a couple of men-servants came rushing up. I did not want to hit the woman; but I longed for one blow at Harvey Scoffold, and as a matter of fact I contrived to get one or two really serviceable ones in on his rotund person. But by this time, while we were all scrambling about together, and while I was raising my voice in repeated shouts of "Debora," in the hope that I might attract her attention, the woman had literally wound herself about me, so that I was powerless. The door was pulled open, and this time we tumbled out instead of in. And as Martha dexterously released me only when I was outside, and contrived to trip me up very neatly down the steps, she was inside again, and the door closed, before I could get to my feet. Then I heard the bolts shooting into place, and knew that the victory was with them.

I had a mind to set the bell ringing again, in the hope to force them to open the door. But I had the good sense to understand that I should serve no good purpose in that way; I should, in all probability, bring some night policeman down upon me, when explanations would be difficult.

For after all, on the face of it, you cannot very well demand that a young lady shall be fetched out at night from the house of a highly-respectable guardian by a stranger who can give no really good account of himself. And that, as you will acknowledge, was exactly the position of affairs.

Baffled, I went away again, and was fortunate enough to be able to get back to Barnet in the same fashion as before. You may imagine my frame of mind by the time I got to Uncle Zabdiel's house; I was in a state of ungovernable fury. I marched into the garden, and rang the bell violently, and waited. After a minute or two, during which I had repeated the summons, I heard a window raised above me, and, looking up, saw Uncle Zabdiel's wicked old head looking out. All about me was very quiet, for the house stood somewhat retired from an unfrequented road, and I could hear his voice distinctly.

"Who is it? What do you want?" he demanded.

"I want to come in," I said, stepping back a little from the door so that he could see me. "You know me, Uncle Zabdiel."

"I should think I do," he sneered. "Do you think I should be fool enough to let you in--you wild beast!--you bully!--I've too great a care for my own safety for that."

"You'd better let me in quietly," I warned him.

"I won't--I won't!" he almost shouted. "I mean to protect myself. And I'll tell you something else, my young friend," he went on, leaning further out of the window, and shaking a fist at me. "I've made up my mind to see you comfortably put away again."

"Indeed?" I retorted, "and how are you going to manage that?"

"I've written to the authorities, telling them that if they come here to-morrow night I can give them a full and true account of a certain convict called Norton Hyde, supposed to be buried in Penthouse Prison, but really very much alive. Put that in your pipe and smoke it! I've cooked your goose, my boy, and I shall sleep peaceful o' nights in future."

He slammed down the window, leaving me standing in the darkness, thinking long thoughts. I saw that it was as hopeless for me to get in here as it had proved to be at the house of Bardolph Just; I went sorrowfully out of the gate, realising that all was over. As I turned into the road, I almost cannoned against a man who seemed to be lounging there. He turned away his face quickly, and although for a moment I had a feeling that it was a face that was familiar to me, the thought merely flitted through my mind for a moment, and was gone as the man lurched away. I saw that he was dressed roughly, like a labouring man.

You may be sure that I did not sleep that night. I paced my room, wondering what I should do; I varied that only by seating myself at the window, and staring out at the sky, telling myself over and over again that all I had striven to do had come to naught. To-morrow the true story would be told to the world; to-morrow Norton Hyde would be a hunted man again, with three or four people interested in his capture, who would know all his movements, and could supply a dozen clues towards finding him. It was impossible for me to do anything to help Debora, because Bardolph Just's house would be one of the first places to be watched, if it came to a hunt for me. I was done.

And then it was that I came to a desperate resolution. I was homeless and hopeless, and I had failed; I determined that I would keep the appointment that night, and would meet those who were to see my uncle. I would give myself up to the authorities, and so end the miserable business by going back to my prison. There was nothing else for it; I felt that it was far better to close the matter once and for all time.

I got to Uncle Zabdiel's house after darkness had set in. Just as I turned into the road leading to it, I saw two men, respectably dressed in dark clothing, and with bowler hats, going along in front of me; my heart gave a little jump, for I thought I knew their errand. They came to the gate in the wall and opened it. I had determined by this time that I would waste no time, and so I came up with them as they pa.s.sed into the garden. One of them turned and looked at me.

"What do you want, sir?" he asked.

"I've come to see Mr. Blowfield," I replied; for I had made up my mind to see the matter out in my uncle's presence.

The man said nothing, but joined his companion, who was standing before the door of the house, and who had just rung the bell. There was no answer to the summons, and after a time he tugged at the bell-pull again. In moving to do this he made a discovery.

"Why, the door's open," he murmured; then he pushed it, and stepped into the dark hall.

"Hadn't you better call out?" said the other man.

The first man lifted his voice, and called out sharply, "Mr. Blowfield!

Mr. Blowfield!"

His voice echoed in a dreary fashion through the house, and seemed to come back at us. The first man had by this time touched a shelf which stood in the hall, and on which was a lamp. Looking about him sharply while he did so, he dexterously got a light and lit the lamp; then, with a glance at his companion, he stepped into the room which was the dining-room. It was empty.

I followed them from that room into the study, which again was empty.

Then the first man, still carrying the lamp, after muttering something to his companion which I did not hear, began to ascend the stairs. I was the last of the trio, and I suddenly heard the first man cry out in an excited voice.

"Here, catch hold of this!" he exclaimed, pa.s.sing the lamp down to the other man. "There's been an accident!"

I pressed forward then, and looked. Lying p.r.o.ne upon the staircase, with his head and shoulders hanging down over the top stairs, lay Uncle Zabdiel. Beside him was a heavy stick--that stick with which he had once threatened me--and his head and face were cruelly beaten in. Whoever had killed him had not been able to bear the sight of him afterwards, for the clothes from his bed had been dragged out of the room and pulled across him.