Grit Lawless Part 30

Lawless drew a slow breath of relief. There was no sound in the stillness other than that dull hammering of pulses in his ears. The noise he had made, he rightly conjectured, was not so audible as he had feared. But he did not mean running any risks; and so he remained where he was, rigid, waiting, listening, while the minutes slipped away, and the silence, heavy, portentous of lurking evil, remained absolutely unbroken.

He was about to advance a further step when an extraordinary interruption occurred. Stealthily, as though the striker sought to stifle the sound, a match was rubbed lightly against its box, and the next instant a light shone through the c.h.i.n.ks in the part.i.tion, and from the sounds Lawless judged that someone was getting off the bed, and that in so cautious a manner as to suggest that whoever it was he was anxious not to be heard. For a few moments Lawless suspected that his own movements had aroused attention, and he waited, quiet-eyed and grim, for the next move in the game. But after a while he began to think that he was altogether mistaken. The occupants in the next room were as anxious as he had been not to be overheard. They were whispering together, and one of them moved stealthily across the floor, and a sound that was like the crackle of paper reached Lawless' ears.

With even greater caution than he had used to cross the floor to the door he now retraced his steps and softly advanced towards the glimmer of light that showed through the c.h.i.n.ks in the part.i.tion. He put his eye to the biggest crack. Van Bleit stood in his pyjamas beside the bed facing Lawless, a sealed packet, the sight of which gave the watcher a queer start, in his hand. He was speaking to Denzil, who, sitting up in bed, listened attentively with his eyes on the speaker. Van Bleit spoke in so low a tone that had he been facing the other way it was doubtful that Lawless could have heard. As it was he only made out part of what was said.

"I daren't risk it," Van Bleit was murmuring. "I don't trust him...

ride this morning... If it hadn't been that I was armed he would...

letters must be got out of this..."

He began to speak more slowly and with greater distinctness.

"We'll wait for the dawn... there's no hurry. If he hears you, I'll say you have gone for a ride before breakfast... out of the window... no need to make a noise... ride slowly for the first half-mile, and keep going towards the bush. If he should happen to catch sight of you, he'd never suppose you were making for the town. I may be quite out in this, of course, but I have my suspicions... satisfied when those letters are safely out of..."

Lawless caught nothing more. But he had heard enough. He saw Denzil take charge of the packet, and he caught sight of the b.u.t.t of a revolver sticking out obliquely from beneath the pillow.

He drew back softly, and smiled grimly to himself in the dark. Van Bleit in his eagerness to save the letters from falling into his hands was deliberately placing them there. The wily scoundrel had overreached himself.

He stepped softly back to the bed, and lying down, waited for the dawn.

It seemed long in coming. And when at last the first pale glimmer of light showed wanly in the sky he began to think that sleep had overcome his companions. There was no stir from within. He lay quite still, listening. After a while he fancied, but could not be sure, that he heard someone moving. He listened more attentively. Without a doubt someone was pattering about the floor in bare feet while he struggled into his clothes as noiselessly as possible. He heard the window-sash slide open, and raising himself and looking out, saw Denzil drop from the low sill and pa.s.s beneath his window. He gave him time to reach the stable and saddle a horse. Then he got up quietly and made his careful exit by the door.

Once outside his movements were less cautious. He hurried to the stable, and saddling the second horse, started in pursuit. He rode behind the house, trusting that Van Bleit if he heard would ascribe the sounds to Denzil, and followed the directions he had heard given in the whispered instructions of the previous night.

It was not long before he descried his quarry. Denzil was riding easily, as a man rides for exercise with no particular object in view.

He did not once turn his head to look back, but jogging quietly on his way made steadily for the dense cover behind the hut. Lawless quickened his pace and overtook him about a mile from the house. On hearing someone behind him Denzil looked round, and reining in his horse waited for him to come up.

"Hallo!" he said, a trifle uneasily, it seemed to Lawless. "You're early astir. I thought I had the day to myself."

"Any objection," Lawless asked, "to a companion on your ride?"

Denzil laughed awkwardly.

"On the contrary," he said. "I hate riding alone. But I thought you chaps were dead asleep. This to my thinking is the best time of the day."

"Yes," Lawless agreed. "I usually ride before the sun is up."

They drew abreast, and walked their horses alongside the dense bush.

Denzil talked continuously as a man might who was ill at ease and anxious to gain time. It was evident to Lawless that he scented danger, and would gladly have been without his companionship. Once or twice he looked about him furtively, as though some idea of flight possessed his mind; but either his nerve was not equal to the attempt or the possibility of being mistaken in his deductions suggested the prudence of awaiting developments.

The development, when it came, was startling and unpleasant.

He had been looking about him in his furtive, shifty, nervous way, as though wishful yet fearful of attempting escape, when suddenly facing about, impelled by some force other than conscious volition, he found himself staring blankly into the shining barrel of a revolver.

"If you so much as lift a finger," Lawless said coolly, "I'll blow your brains out. Halt!"

The horses came to a standstill. Lawless, still covering the other man, freed his foot from the stirrup and swung himself out of the saddle.

"Dismount!" he said, standing with the rein over his left arm, the right raised with the revolver gripped in his hand.

Denzil reddened, but complied with the curt command.

"What's your game?" he stuttered, as he stood on the veld facing that business-like weapon at uncomfortably close quarters. "What are you up to?"

"Hands up!" Lawless said. And Denzil, alarmed and reluctant, held his hands high above his head.

"I'll not keep you in that undignified and uncomfortable position longer than necessary," Lawless went on. "It depends upon yourself how long you have to endure the annoyance. You have in your possession a packet of letters which it is my intention to relieve you of. You will save me trouble, and yourself continued inconvenience, by telling me in which pocket I shall find what I require."

"Oh! that's it, is it?" Denzil smiled uneasily. "You might have spared yourself trouble. Van Bleit has the packet. He wouldn't trust it with me."

Lawless dropped the rein, leaving it hanging down in front of the forelegs after the Colonial custom with standing horses, and advanced upon the speaker.

"If you waste my time by lying," he said, "I'll shoot you. Which pocket is it in?"

Denzil's eyes snapped; but he was too genuinely alarmed at the cold feel of the revolver against his temples to attempt further procrastination.

"Breast... right-hand side," he answered shortly.

"This spells ruin for me," he muttered, as Lawless plunged his left hand inside his coat and drew out the sealed packet Van Bleit had given into his charge in the bedroom a few hours before. "I don't know how I'll face Karl. He'll be for shooting me himself."

"He's had one escape from hanging," Lawless responded drily; "he'll not risk a second."

He withdrew to a short distance, briefly examined the packet, and slipped it into his own breast pocket with an extraordinary sense of exultation. He had succeeded where others had failed. He had boasted to Colonel Grey that he would get the letters or kill his man, and here were the letters that had cost so much safely in his possession...

He walked to where he had left his horse standing, and putting his foot in the stirrup, vaulted into the saddle. Then he gathered up his rein, and caught at the rein of the other horse.

"You can lower your hands," he said; "but be careful what you do with them; I'm not uncovering you yet."

Denzil dropped his hands to his sides, and watched with considerable interest the movements of the man who had so completely outwitted him.

"You are leaving me to tramp it, I suppose?" he said.

"I'm depriving you and Van Bleit of the means of following me," was the brief answer.

"Van Bleit will never believe how entirely you surprised me," Denzil returned dejectedly. "He'll think I ought to have stuck to the packet at all costs. Man, I wonder if you know the value of what you've got there? Look here! ... Stop a bit!" ... His manner became eager and confidential. "Can't we do a deal, you and I? ... Let me stand in with you--or, better still, give me a sum down, and I'll let you into the know how to work those letters to the best advantage... What do you say, eh?"

"What I have to say won't interest you," Lawless replied. "If I hadn't pa.s.sed my word, I wouldn't touch the d.a.m.ned letters, and the first thing I mean to do with them is to get rid of their charge... But not to you... If you had your deserts you would find yourself on the breakwater. Now, march!" he added. "Turn your back, and keep going."

He had hardly issued the order when something happened that put an altogether different aspect upon the face of things. Inexplicably, he saw Denzil grinning as he abruptly turned about, and the next moment something hurtled through the air and fell about his shoulders, tightening with a suddenness that pinned his arms to his sides. The revolver flew from his hand, and simultaneously he was jerked violently out of the saddle. He fell heavily to the accompaniment of raucous laughter, and, lying on the veld, straining impotently at the cords that held him, he realised with bitter mortification that Karl Van Bleit had securely la.s.soed him by a cowboy trick he was an adept in.

CHAPTER TWENTY.

"Check number two, Master Grit Lawless!"

Van Bleit stood over his victim with a smile of satisfaction widening his features, the end of the long rope which he had used to such purpose coiled upon his arm. He took a shorter length from his pocket and tossed it to Denzil, who, in thorough appreciation of the trick, was still laughing immoderately over the discomfiture of the man who had believed himself upper dog. Lawless sat up and swore vigorously.

"Fasten his wrists," Van Bleit commanded.

He twirled the ends of his moustache complacently while he watched the execution of this order, and offered a few suggestions for the more efficacious tightening of the bonds.

"Oh! you can squirm as much as you like," he said. "You are about as helpless as a trussed fowl."