One of Clive's Heroes Part 5

There was silence for a s.p.a.ce. Then d.i.c.kon said, tremulously:

"Bin it a great matter, yourn, sir, I make bold to ax?"

"That's as it turns out, d.i.c.kon. But what is it with you, old man? Is aught amiss?"

"Not wi' me, sir, not wi' me, thank the Lord above. But I seed ya, Measter Desmond, t'other day, in speech win that--that Diggle as he do call hisself, and--and, I tell ya true, sir, I dunna like the looks on him; no, he binna a right man; an' I were afeard as he med ha' bin fillin' yer head wi' fine tales about the wonders o' the world an' all."

"Is that all, d.i.c.kon? You fear my head may be turned, eh? Don't worry about me."

"Why, sir, ya may think me bold, but I do say this: If so be ya gets notions in yer head--notions o' goin' out alone an' seein' the world an'

all, go up an' ax Squire about it. Squire he done have a wise head; he'll advise ya fur the best; an' sure I bin he'd warn ya not to have no dealin's win that Diggle, as he do call hisself."

"Why, does the Squire know him, then?"

"'Tis my belief Squire do know everything an' every body. Diggle he med not know, to be sure, but if so be ya say 'tis a lean man, wi' sharp nose, an' black eyes like live coals, an' a smilin' mouth--why, Squire knows them sort, he done, and wouldna trust him not a' ell. But maybe ya'd better go on, sir: my old shanks be slow fur one so young an'

nimble."

"No hurry, d.i.c.kon. Lucky the Squire was used to London hours in his youth, or we'd find him abed. See, there's a light in the Hall; 'tis in the strong-room next to the library; Sir Willoughby is reckoning up his rents maybe, though 'tis late for that."

"Ay, ya knows the Hall, true. Theer be a terrible deal o' gowd an'

silver up in that room, fur sure, more'n a aged man like me could tell in a week."

"The light is moving; it seems Sir Willoughby is finishing up for the night. I hope we shall not be too late."

But at this moment a winding of the path brought another face of the Hall into view.

"Why, d.i.c.kon," exclaimed Desmond, "there's another light; 'tis the Squire's own room. He cannot be in two places at once; 'tis odd at this time of night. Come, stir your stumps, old man."

They hurried along, scrambling through the hedge that bounded the field, Desmond leaping, d.i.c.kon wading, the brook that ran alongside the road.

Turning to the left, they came to the front entrance to the Hall, and pa.s.sed through the wicket-gate into the grounds. They could see the Squire's shadow on the blind of the parlour; but the lighted window of the strong-room was now hidden from them. Stepping in that direction, to satisfy a strange curiosity he felt, Desmond halted in amazement as he saw, faintly silhouetted against the sky, a ladder placed against the wall, resting on the sill of the strong-room. His surprise at seeing lights in two rooms, in different wings of the house, so late at night, changed to misgiving and suspicion. He hastened back to d.i.c.kon.

"I fear some mischief is afoot," he said. Drawing the old man into the shade of a shrubbery, he added: "Remain here; do not stir until I come for you, or unless you hear me call."

Leaving d.i.c.kon in trembling perplexity and alarm, he stole forward on tip-toe towards the house.

CHAPTER THE FIFTH

*In which Job Grinsell explains; and three visitors come by night to the "Four Alls."*

At the foot of the wall lay a flower-bed, now bare and black, separated by a gravel path from a low shrubbery of laurel. Behind this latter Desmond stole, screened from observation by the bushes. Coming to a spot exactly opposite the ladder, he saw that it rested on the sill of the library window, which was open. The library itself was dark, but there was still a dull glow in the next room. At the foot of the ladder stood a man. The meaning of it all was plain. The large sum of money recently received by Sir Willoughby as rents had tempted some one to rob him. The robber must have learnt that the money was kept in the strong-room; and it argued either considerable daring or great ignorance to have timed his visit for an hour when any one familiar with the Squire's habits would have known that he would not yet have retired to rest.

Desmond was about to run round to the other side of the house and rouse the Squire when the dim light in the strong-room was suddenly extinguished. Apparently the confederate of the man below had secured his booty and was preparing to return. Desmond remained fixed to the spot, in some doubt what to do. He might call to d.i.c.kon and make a rush on the man before him; but the labourer was old and feeble, and the criminal was no doubt armed. A disturber would probably be shot, and though the report would alarm the household, the burglars would have time to escape in the darkness. Save Sir Willoughby himself, doubtless every person in the house was by this time abed asleep.

It seemed best to Desmond to send d.i.c.kon for help while he himself still mounted guard. Creeping silently as a cat along the shrubbery, he hastened back to the labourer, told him in a hurried whisper of his discovery, and bade him steal round to the servants' quarters, rouse them quietly, and bring one or two to trap the man at the foot of the ladder while others made a dash through the library upon the marauder in the strong-room. d.i.c.kon, whose wits were nimbler than his legs, understood what he was to do and slipped away, Desmond returning to his coign of vantage as noiselessly as he came.

He was just in time to see that a heavy object, apparently a box, was being lowered from the library window on to the ladder. Sliding slowly down, it came to the hands of the waiting man; immediately afterwards the rope by which it had been suspended was dropped from above, and the dark figure of a man mounted the sill.

He already had one leg over, preparing to descend, when Desmond, with a sudden rush, dashed through the shrubs and sprang across the path. The confederate was stooping over the booty; his back was towards the shrubbery; at the snapping of twigs and the crunching of the gravel he straightened himself and turned. Before he was aware of what was happening, Desmond caught at the ladder by the lowest rung, and jerked it violently outwards so that its top fell several feet below the window-sill, resting on the wall out of reach of the man above. Desmond heard a smothered exclamation break from the fellow, but he could pay no further attention to him, for, as he rose from stooping over the ladder, he was set upon by a burly form. He dodged behind the ladder. The man sprang after him, blindly, clumsily, and tripped over the box. But he was up in a moment, and, reckless of the consequences of raising an alarm, was fumbling for a pistol, when there fell upon his ears a shout, the tramp of hurrying feet, and the sound of another window being thrown open.

With a m.u.f.fled curse he swung on his heel, and made to cross the gravel path and plunge into the shrubbery. But Desmond was too quick for him.

Springing upon his back, he caught his arms, thus preventing him from using his pistol. He was a powerful man, and Desmond alone would have been no match for him; but before he could wriggle himself entirely free, three half-clad men-servants came up with a rush, and in a trice he was secured.

In the excitement of these close-packed moments Desmond had forgotten the other man, whom he had last seen with his leg dangling over the window-sill. He looked up now; the window was still open; the ladder lay exactly where he had jerked it; evidently the robber had not descended.

"Quick!" cried Desmond. "Round to the door! The other fellow will escape!"

He himself sprinted round the front of the house to the door by which the servants had issued, and met the Squire hobbling along on his stick, pistol in hand.

"We have got one, sir!" cried Desmond. "Have you seen the other?"

"What--why--how many villains are there?" replied the Squire, who between amazement and wrath was scarcely able to appreciate the situation.

"There was a man in the library; he did not come down the ladder; he may be still in the house."

"The deuce he is! Desmond, take the pistol, and shoot the knave like a dog if you meet him."

"I'll guard the door, Sir Willoughby. They are bringing the other man round. Then we'll all go into the house and search. He can't get out without being seen if the other doors are locked."

"Locked and barred. I did it myself an hour ago. I'll hang the villain."

In a few moments the servants came up with their captive and the box, old d.i.c.kon following. Only their figures could be seen: it was too dark to distinguish features.

"You scoundrel!" cried the Squire, brandishing his stick. "You'll hang for this. Take him into the house. In with you all. You scoundrel!"

"An you please, Sir Willoughby, 'tis----" began one of the servants.

"In with you, I say," roared the Squire. "I'll know how to deal with the villain."

The culprit was hustled into the house, and the group followed, Sir Willoughby bringing up the rear. Inside he barred and locked the door, and bade the men carry their prisoner to the library. The corridors and staircase were dark; but by the time the Squire had mounted on his gouty legs candles had been lighted, and the face of the housebreaker was for the first time visible. Two servants held the man; the others, with Desmond and d.i.c.kon, looked on in amazement.

"Job Grinsell, on my soul and body!" cried the Squire. "You villain!

You ungrateful knave! Is this how you repay me? I might have hanged you, you scoundrel, when you poached my game; a word from me and Sir Philip would have seen you whipped before he let his inn to you; but I was too kind; I am a fool; and you---- by gad, you shall hang this time."

The Squire's face was purple with anger, and he shook his stick as though then and there he would have wrought chastis.e.m.e.nt on the offender. Grinsell's flabby face, however, expressed amus.e.m.e.nt rather than fear.

"Bless my soul!" cried the Squire, suddenly turning to his men, "I'd forgotten the other villain. Off with you; search for him; bring him here."

Desmond had already set off to look for Grinsell's accomplice. Taper in hand he went quickly from room to room; joined by the Squire's servants, he searched every nook and cranny of the house, examining doors and windows, opening cupboards, poking at curtains--all in vain. At last, at the end of a dark corridor, he came upon an open window some ten feet above the ground. It was so narrow that a man of ordinary size must have had some difficulty in squeezing his shoulders through; but Desmond was forced to the conclusion that the housebreaker had sprung out here, and by this time had made good his escape. Disappointed at his failure, he returned with the servants to the library.

"We can't find him, Sir Willoughby," said Desmond, as he opened the door. To his surprise, Grinsell and d.i.c.kon were gone; no one but the Squire was in the room, and he was sitting in a big chair, limp and listless, his eyes fixed upon the floor.

"We can't find him," repeated Desmond.