Till the Clock Stops Part 19

He was in the study dusting the thick gla.s.s protecting the clock when, about ten thirty, Alan arrived via the pa.s.sage.

"An odd place for a clock," the young man remarked. "I had a look at it last night. But why 'dangerous,' and what's that green stuff?"

"Mr. Craig intended that the clock should not be interfered with before it stopped--nearly a year hence, sir. I understand the liquid is something stronger than water, but whether explosive or poisonous, I could not say, sir."

"Curious notion!" Alan pointed to the pendulum flashing gloriously in the sunlight now breaking through the racing clouds. "Are they diamonds?"

"Yes, sir. Worth, I have heard, about two thousand pounds."

"Then, of course, they would account for the precautions."

"Very likely, sir. Only I have a feeling that this clock has a meaning which we shall not learn until it stops. The maker constructed it in a locked room in this house, of which my master had the key, and I think my master knew even more about it than Monsoor Guidet did. Is the temperature here agreeable to you, sir?"

"A trifle warm, don't you think?"

"It shall be regulated to suit you, sir. Mr. Craig was sensitive to a degree, one way or the other."

Alan turned abruptly from the clock which, somehow, he was finding fascinating. "Well, now, Caw," he said, dropping into an easy chair by the fire, "hadn't you better begin to explain things?"

"At once, if you wish it, sir. But I'm hoping that Mr. Craig's lawyer from Glasgow, Mr. Harvie, will be here at noon, and as he may have fuller information than I can give, I was wondering if you would not care to hear him first. Indeed, Mr. Alan, I think it would be worth your while to wait, I could tell you a good deal, but my master did not tell me everything, though I have sometimes thought he meant to tell me more--"

"Very well, Caw. I'll ask only one question for the present. Did my uncle see anything of Mr. Bullard within the last few months of his life?"

Caw let fall the duster and recovered it before he answered: "Yes, sir.

On the afternoon of the day of his death Mr. Bullard and Mr. Lancaster sat in this room with him."

"Mr. Lancaster, too!"

"Yes, sir."

"Thanks; that will do for the present. Now I have a letter to write. By the bye, do you remember my friend, Mr. France, being here once? I am going to send for him."

"I remember Mr. France very well indeed, sir, and I will do my best to make him comfortable. I think you will find everything here," Caw moved the chair at the desk.

Alan got up, then hesitated. "Do you know, Caw, I can hardly bring myself to take possession in this cool fashion right away."

"My master would have wished for nothing better. You will remember, sir, that all has been yours for the last eighteen months." Caw made the stiff little bow that betokened retiral.

"A moment. Caw," said the young man. "I take it that you would have done anything for my uncle."

"That is so," was the quiet reply, "and, if I may say so, Mr. Alan, I am here to do anything for you."

He was gone, leaving Alan perplexed and not a little touched, for he could not doubt the man's sincerity. Presently he sat down and wrote to Teddy France, disguising his writing as much as possible.

"My dear Teddy:

"Before you go further, get a grip on yourself, then turn the page very slowly and look at the signature. Have you done so? You see, I want firstly to avoid giving you a sudden scare, and I hope it has been at least modified, old man; secondly, though I'm very much alive, I'm not advertising the fact at present and trust you to help me in keeping it dark. My story is too long to put on paper, but you shall have it all as soon as you can come to listen. Is it possible for you to get leave at once and come here for a couple of days? I badly want to see you again and ask your help and advice. Wire me on receipt of this. Relying on your secrecy,

"Yours as ever,

"ALAN CRAIG.

"P.S.: I'd like Doris to know, but only if you can find a way to tell her secretly. Ask her to trust me for a little while."

The visit of Mr. Harvie, the lawyer, who arrived at noon, meant little but disappointment for Alan. After a few polite words of congratulation, the lawyer dived into business, explaining Alan's position as the result of his uncle's deed of gift, and reciting a short list of securities mixed up with money figures.

"All very simple and satisfactory so far as it goes, Mr. Craig," he said, "and, of course, I am always at your service should you think I can be of the slightest help. Your uncle's will provided only for a legacy and an annuity to the male and female servants, also a thousand pounds to Dr.

Handyside, the residue, about four thousand pounds, falling to yourself.

My duty for the present ends with the delivery of this"--he handed an envelope to Alan--"though my responsibilities do not cease until the clock stops."

"I wish you would explain the clock, Mr. Harvie."

Mr. Harvie wagged his head. "My knowledge concerning the clock is confined to written instructions of my late client, whereby I shall be present when it stops, but my duties then will depend on circ.u.mstances.

The significance of the clock itself I do not yet comprehend. All I know is that the clock will run a year from the date of my client's death, and that, at least twenty-four hours prior to the stoppage, I shall be warned and informed of the hour at which I must be present." He paused to purse his lips and continued: "I do not think you will resent my remarking, Mr.

Craig, that for as sane a business man as ever I met, your uncle had some of the oddest ideas--which, nevertheless, you and I are bound to respect.

Possibly a chat with Mr. Caw may dispel some of the fog you have stepped into on your otherwise fortunate and happy return home. I feel that Mr.

Caw knows a great deal more than I, but in this case, at any rate"--Mr.

Harvie permitted himself to smile--"what I do not know is none of my business."

"You can a.s.sure me that absolutely everything in this house belongs to me?" said Alan after a short silence. "You know of nothing which my uncle intended to make over to friends?"

"Nothing whatever. Mr. Craig was absolutely clear on that point when I drew up the Deed of Gift. Still, as I have said, in any new difficulty I am at your service. I liked your uncle, Mr. Craig. I once mentioned a sad case of unmerited poverty to him, and his generosity astonished, nay, shamed me. You have a good man's place to fill."

Mr. Harvie stayed to lunch--Caw performed wonders in the circ.u.mstances--and caught the two o'clock steamer. As soon as he was gone, Alan opened the envelope. If he had looked for revelations within, he was bound to be once more disappointed. The enclosure consisted simply of a letter, and not a lengthy one at that.

"GREY HOUSE,

"26th October, 1913.

"My dear Alan:

"It is written that we shall not meet again. My malady grows daily worse, and the end may come at any moment. But I am of good cheer because of my faith in your ultimate return. Whence comes that faith I cannot tell--but whence comes any great and steadfast faith? When you come into this house and the little fortune that has been yours since you left for the Arctic, you may meet with some puzzling things; you may even be tempted to say, or think, that the old man must have been a little 'cracked.' But one must amuse oneself, especially when thought gnaws and time hangs heavy; and if there happens to be a way of attaining one's chief desires which is not altogether a tiresome and conventional way, why not choose it, as I have done? Should my whims cost you trouble or annoyance, forgive me.

Let things take their course, if at all possible, till the Clock stops.

Trust Caw, who knows as much as I care for any one to know; Lawyer Harvie, who knows next to nothing; Handyside and his daughter who may, or may not, know anything. In my latter days my trust in human nature has been shaken, though not destroyed; yet I say to you: Rather a host of declared enemies than one doubtful friend. Farewell, Alan, and may G.o.d send you happiness. A man can make pleasure for himself.

"Your affectionate uncle,

"CHRISTOPHER CRAIG."

After a little while Alan rang for Caw.

The servant's eyes held a glimmer of antic.i.p.ation induced by the lawyer's visit. Surely Mr. Harvie had been able to divulge something that would render his coming task a little easier, for Caw had still to tell of the Green Box and at the same time conceal the fact that Christopher Craig had died at bitter enmity with his two old friends--or at all events, the grounds of that enmity. As though Christopher had wished to lay particular stress on his desire for such concealment, Caw had found among his written instructions the following words: "At all costs, my nephew is to be spared the tragedy of his parents' ruin."

At Alan's first remark the glimmer went out.

"No, Caw, I'm no wiser than I was this morning. Mr. Harvie knows nothing except that he is to be present when the clock stops, and a letter written to me by my uncle, which he gave me, leaves me as much in the dark as ever. My uncle's letter says, however, that I am to trust you, and that you know more than any one."