The House of a Thousand Candles Part 20

"Warn them away before they get much nearer," suggested Stoddard. "We don't want to hurt people if we can help it,"--and at this I went to the end of the pier. Morgan and his men were now quite near, and there was no mistaking their intentions. Most of them carried guns, the others revolvers and long ice-hooks.

"Morgan," I called, holding up my hands for a truce, "we wish you no harm, but if you enter these grounds you do so at your peril."

"We're all sworn deputy sheriffs," called the caretaker smoothly. "We've got the law behind us."

"That must be why you're coming in the back way," I replied.

The thick-set man whom Larry had identified as the English detective now came closer and addressed me in a high key.

"You're harboring a bad man, Mr. Glenarm. You'd better give him up. The American law supports me, and you'll get yourself in trouble if you protect that man. You may not understand, sir, that he's a very dangerous character."

"Thanks, Davidson!" called Larry. "You'd better keep out of this. You know I'm a bad man with the shillalah!"

"That you are, you blackguard!" yelled the officer, so spitefully that we all laughed.

I drew back to the boat-house.

"They are not going to kill anybody if they can help it," remarked Stoddard, "any more than we are. Even deputy sheriffs are not turned loose to do murder, and the Wabana County Court wouldn't, if it hadn't been imposed on by Pickering, lend itself to a game like this."

"Now we're in for it," yelled Larry, and the twelve men, in close order, came running across the ice toward the sh.o.r.e.

"Open order, and fall back slowly toward the house," I commanded. And we deployed from the boat-house, while the attacking party still clung together--a strategic error, as Larry a.s.sured us.

"Stay together, lads. Don't separate; you'll get lost if you do," he yelled.

Stoddard bade him keep still, and we soon had our hands full with a preliminary skirmish. Morgan's line advanced warily. Davidson, the detective, seemed disgusted at Morgan's tactics, openly abused the caretaker, and ran ahead of his column, revolver in hand, bearing down upon Larry, who held our center.

The Englishman's haste was his undoing. The light fall of snow a few days before had gathered in the little hollows of the wood deceptively. The detective plunged into one of these and fell sprawling on all fours--a calamity that caused his comrades to pause uneasily. Larry was upon his enemy in a flash, wrenched his pistol away and pulled the man to his feet.

"Ah, Davidson! There's many a slip! Move, if you dare and I'll plug you with your own gun." And he stood behind the man, using him as a shield while Morgan and the rest of the army hung near the boat-house uncertainly.

"It's the strategic intellect we've captured, General," observed Larry to me. "You see the American invaders were depending on British brains."

Morgan now acted on the hint we had furnished him and sent his men out as skirmishers. The loss of the detective had undoubtedly staggered the caretaker, and we were slowly retreating toward the house, Larry with one hand on the collar of his prisoner and the other grasping the revolver with which he poked the man frequently in the ribs. We slowly continued our retreat, fearing a rush, which would have disposed of us easily enough if Morgan's company had shown more of a fighting spirit. Stoddard's presence rather amazed them, I think, and I saw that the invaders kept away from his end of the line. We were far apart, stumbling over the snow-covered earth and calling to one another now and then that we might not become too widely separated. Davidson did not relish his capture by the man he had followed across the ocean, and he attempted once to roar a command to Morgan.

"Try it again," I heard Larry admonish him, "try that once more, and The Sod, G.o.d bless it! will never feel the delicate imprint of your web-feet again."

He turned the man about and rushed him toward the house, the revolver still serving as a prod. His speed gave heart to the wary invaders immediately behind him and two fellows urged and led by Morgan charged our line at a smart pace.

"Bolt for the front door," I called to Larry, and Stoddard and I closed in after him to guard his retreat.

"They're not shooting," called Stoddard. "You may be sure they've had their orders to capture the house with as little row as possible."

We were now nearing the edge of the wood, with the open meadow and water-tower at our backs, while Larry was making good time toward the house.

"Let's meet them here," shouted Stoddard.

Morgan was coming up with a club in his hand, making directly for me, two men at his heels, and the rest veering off toward the wall of St. Agatha's.

"Watch the house," I yelled to the chaplain; and then, on the edge of the wood Morgan came at me furiously, swinging his club over his head, and in a moment we were fencing away at a merry rate. We both had revolvers strapped to our waists, but I had no intention of drawing mine unless in extremity. At my right Stoddard was busy keeping off Morgan's personal guard, who seemed reluctant to close with the clergyman.

I have been, in my day, something of a fencer, and my knowledge of the foils stood me in good stead now. With a tremendous thwack I knocked Morgan's club flying over the snow, and, as we grappled, Bates yelled from the house. I quickly found that Morgan's wounded arm was still tender. He flinched at the first grapple, and his anger got the better of his judgment. We kicked up the snow at a great rate as we feinted and dragged each other about. He caught hold of my belt with one hand and with a great wrench nearly dragged me from my feet, but I pinioned his arms and bent him backward, then, by a trick Larry had taught me, flung him upon his side. It is not, I confess, a pretty business, matching your brute strength against that of a fellow man, and as I cast myself upon him and felt his hard-blown breath on my face, I hated myself more than I hated him for engaging in so ign.o.ble a contest.

Bates continued to call from the house.

"Come on at any cost," shouted Stoddard, putting himself between me and the men who were flying to Morgan's aid.

I sprang away from my adversary, s.n.a.t.c.hing his revolver, and ran toward the house, Stoddard close behind, but keeping himself well between me and the men who were now after us in full cry.

"Shoot, you fools, shoot!" howled Morgan, and as we reached the open meadow and ran for the house a shot-gun roared back of us and buckshot snapped and rattled on the stone of the water tower.

"There's the sheriff," called Stoddard behind me.

The officer of the law and his deputy ran into the park from the gate of St. Agatha's, while the rest of Morgan's party were skirting the wall to join them.

"Stop or I'll shoot," yelled Morgan, and I felt Stoddard pause in his gigantic stride to throw himself between me and the pursuers.

"Sprint for it hot," he called very coolly, as though he were coaching me in a contest of the most amiable sort imaginable.

"Get away from those guns," I panted, angered by the very generosity of his defense.

"Feint for the front entrance and then run for the terrace and the library-door," he commanded, as we crossed the little ravine bridge. "They've got us headed off."

Twice the guns boomed behind us, and twice I saw shot cut into the snow about me.

"I'm all right," called Stoddard rea.s.suringly, still at my back. "They're not a bit anxious to kill me."

I was at the top of my speed now, but the clergyman kept close at my heels. I was blowing hard, but he made equal time with perfect ease.

The sheriff was bawling orders to his forces, who awaited us before the front door. Bates and Larry were not visible, but I had every confidence that the Irishman would reappear in the fight at the earliest moment possible. Bates, too, was to be reckoned with, and the final struggle, if it came in the house itself, might not be so unequal, providing we knew the full strength of the enemy.

"Now for the sheriff--here we go!" cried Stoddard-- beside me--and we were close to the fringe of trees that shielded the entrance. Then off we veered suddenly to the left, close upon the terrace, where one of the French windows was thrown open and Larry and Bates stepped out, urging us on with l.u.s.ty cries.

They caught us by the arms and dragged us over where the bal.u.s.trade was lowest, and we crowded through the door and slammed it. As Bates snapped the bolts Morgan's party discharged its combined artillery and the sheriff began a great clatter at the front door.

"Gentlemen, we're in a state of siege," observed Larry, filling his pipe.

Shot pattered on the wails and several panes of gla.s.s cracked in the French windows.

"All's tight below, sir," reported Bates. "I thought it best to leave the tunnel trap open for our own use. Those fellows won't come in that way--it's too much like a blind alley."

"Where's your prisoner, Larry?"

"Potato cellar, quite comfortable, thanks!"

It was ten o'clock and the besiegers suddenly withdrew a short distance for parley among themselves. Outside the sun shone brightly; and the sky was never bluer. In this moment of respite, while we made ready for what further the day might bring forth, I climbed up to the finished tower to make sure we knew the enemy's full strength. I could see over the tree-tops, beyond the chapel tower, the roofs of St. Agatha's. There, at least, was peace. And in that moment, looking over the black wood, with the snow lying upon the ice of the lake white and gleaming under the sun, I felt unutterably lonely and heart-sick, and tired of strife. It seemed a thousand years ago that I had walked and talked with the child Olivia; and ten thousand years more since the girl in gray at the Annandale station had wakened in me a higher aim, and quickened a better impulse than I had ever known.

Larry roared my name through the lower floors. I went down with no wish in my heart but to even matters with Pickering and be done with my grandfather's legacy for ever.

"The sheriff and Morgan have gone back toward the lake," reported Larry.

"They've gone to consult their chief," I said. "I wish Pickering would lead his own battalions. It would give social prestige to the fight."

"Bah, these women!" And Larry tore the corner from a cartridge box.

Stoddard, with a pile of clubs within reach, lay on his back on the long leather couch, placidly reading his Greek testament. Bates, for the first time since my arrival, seemed really nervous and anxious, He pulled a silver watch from his pocket several times, something I had never seen him do before. He leaned against the table, looking strangely tired and worn, and I saw him start nervously as he felt Larry's eyes on him.

"I think, sir, I'd better take another look at the outer gates," he remarked to me quite respectfully.

His disturbed air aroused my old antagonism. Was he playing double in the matter? Did he seek now an excuse for conveying some message to the enemy?

"You'll stay where you are," I said sharply, and I found myself restlessly fingering my revolver.

"Very good, sir,"--and the hurt look in his eyes touched me.

"Bates is all right," Larry declared, with an emphasis that was meant to rebuke me.

CHAPTER XXVI.

THE FIGHT IN THE LIBRARY.

"They're coming faster this time," remarked Stoddard.

"Certainly. Their general has been cursing them right heartily for retreating without the loot. He wants his three-hundred-thousand-dollar autograph collection," observed Larry.

"Why doesn't he come for it himself, like a man?" I demanded.

"Like a man, do you say!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Larry. "Faith and you flatter that fat-head!"

It was nearly eleven o'clock when the attacking party returned after a parley on the ice beyond the boat-house. The four of us were on the terrace ready for them. They came smartly through the wood, the sheriff and Morgan slightly in advance of the others. I expected them to slacken their pace when they came to the open meadow, but they broke into a quick trot at the water-tower and came toward the house as steady as veteran campaigners.

"Shall we try gunpowder?" asked Larry.

"We'll let them fire the first volley," I said.

"They've already tried to murder you and Stoddard, --I'm in for letting loose with the elephant guns," protested the Irishman.

"Stand to your clubs," admonished Stoddard, whose own weapon was comparable to the Scriptural weaver's beam. "Possession is nine points of the fight, and we've got the house."

"Also a prisoner of war," said Larry, grinning.

The English detective had smashed the gla.s.s in the barred window of the potato cellar and we could hear him howling and cursing below.

"Looks like business this time!" exclaimed Larry. "Spread out now and the first head that sticks over the bal.u.s.trade gets a dose of hickory."

When twenty-five yards from the terrace the advancing party divided, half halting between us and the water-tower and the remainder swinging around the house toward the front entrance.

"Ah, look at that!" yelled Larry. "It's a battering-ram they have. O man of peace! have I your Majesty's consent to try the elephant guns now?"

Morgan and the sheriff carried between them a stick of timber from which the branches had been cut, and, with a third man to help, they ran it up the steps and against the door with a crash that came booming back through the house.

Bates was already bounding up the front stairway, a revolver in his hand and a look of supreme rage on his face. Leaving Stoddard and Larry to watch the library windows, I was after him, and we clattered over the loose boards in the upper hall and into a great unfinished chamber immediately over the entrance. Bates had the window up when I reached him and was well out upon the coping, yelling a warning to the men below.

He had his revolver up to shoot, and when I caught his arm he turned to me with a look of anger and indignation I had never expected to see on his colorless, mask-like face.

"My G.o.d, sir! That door was his pride, sir--it came from a famous house in England, and they're wrecking it, sir, as though it were common pine."

He tore himself free of my grasp as the besiegers again launched their battering-ram against the door with a frightful crash, and his revolver cracked smartly thrice, as he bent far out with one hand clinging to the window frame.

His shots were a signal for a sharp reply from one of the men below, and I felt Bates start, and pulled him in, the blood streaming from his face.

"It's all right, sir--all right--only a cut across my cheek, sir,"--and another bullet smashed through the gla.s.s, spurting plaster dust from the wall. A fierce onslaught below caused a tremendous crash to echo through the house, and I heard firing on the opposite side, where the enemy's reserve was waiting.

Bates, with a handkerchief to his face, protested that he was unhurt.

"Come below; there's nothing to be gained here,"--. and I ran down to the hall, where Stoddard stood, leaning upon his club like a Hercules and coolly watching the door as it leaped and shook under the repeated blows of the besiegers.

A gun roared again at the side of the house, and I ran to the library, where Larry had pushed furniture against all the long windows save one, which he held open. He stepped out upon the terrace and emptied a revolver at the men who were now creeping along the edge of the ravine beneath us. One of them stopped and discharged a rifle at us with deliberate aim. The ball snapped snow from the bal.u.s.trade and screamed away harmlessly.

"Bah, such monkeys!" he muttered. "I believe I've hit that chap!" One man had fallen and lay howling in the ravine, his hand to his thigh, while his comrades paused, demoralized.

"Serves you right, you blackguard!" Larry muttered.

I pulled him in and we jammed a cabinet against the door.

Meanwhile the blows at the front continued with increasing violence. Stoddard still stood where I had left him. Bates was not in sight, but the barking of a revolver above showed that he had returned to the window to take vengeance on his enemies.

Stoddard shook his head in deprecation.

"They fired first--we can't do less than get back at them," I said, between the blows of the battering-ram.

A panel of the great oak door now splintered in, but in their fear that we might use the opening as a loophole, they scampered out into range of Bates' revolver. In return we heard a rain of small shot on the upper windows, and a few seconds later Larry shouted that the flanking party was again at the terrace.

This movement evidently heartened the sheriff, for, under a fire from Bates, his men rushed up and the log crashed again into the door, shaking it free of the upper hinges. The lower fastenings were wrenched loose an instant later, and the men came tumbling into the hall, --the sheriff, Morgan and four others I had never seen before. Simultaneously the flanking party reached the terrace and were smashing the small panes of the French windows. We could hear the gla.s.s crack and tinkle above the confusion at the door.

In the hall he was certainly a lucky man who held to his weapon a moment after the door tumbled in. I blazed at the sheriff with my revolver as he stumbled and half-fell at the threshold, so that the ball pa.s.sed over him, but he gripped me by the legs and had me p.r.o.ne and half-dazed by the rap of my head on the floor.

I suppose I was two or three minutes, at least, getting my wits. I was first conscious of Bates grappling the sheriff, who sat upon me, and as they struggled with each other I got the full benefit of their combined, swerving, tossing weight. Morgan and Larry were trying for a chance at each other with revolvers, while Morgan backed the Irishman slowly toward the library. Stoddard had seized one of the unknown deputies with both hands by the collar and gave his captive a tremendous swing, jerking him high in the air and driving him against another invader with a blow that knocked both fellows spinning into a corner.

"Come on to the library!" shouted Larry, and Bates, who had got me to my feet, dragged me down the hall toward the open library-door.