Two men were battling fiercely in the carriage; and I saw that the further door of the carriage was open. As the men wrenched and tugged at each other, I could not for a moment or two see their faces; but I could make out clearly that the smaller man of the two was working strenuously to force the other man out on to the line through the open door. I saw, too, that the bigger man appeared to be using only one arm to defend himself; and it was suddenly borne in upon me that I knew with certainty who the two men were. I tore open the door on my side, and slipped into the carriage, and shut the door again. Then I flung myself upon the smaller man, who was no other than William Capper.
As it happened, I was only just in time. The other man had been driven to the open door, until he was absolutely half in and half out; he had dug his nails into the cushions on one side, in a desperate effort to save himself from falling. And as I pulled Capper off, and flung him to the other end of the carriage, I naturally pulled his intended victim with him – and that intended victim was Dr. Bardolph Just!
How narrow his escape had been was brought home to me the next moment, when, as I leaned out to close the door, another train tore past on the next track, going in the opposite direction. I banged the door, and stood against it, and looked at the two men.
The doctor had sunk down into a corner, and was nursing his wounded arm, and staring in a frightened way at Capper. Capper, I noticed, had suddenly lost all his frenzy, precisely in the same fashion as he had lost it on that other occasion when he had attacked the same man. He now sat in the corner into which I had flung him, with his head bowed, and his hands plucking at his lips, exactly in the attitude of a naughty boy who had been caught in some wickedness and stopped. He glanced at me furtively, but said nothing.
"He – he tried – tried to kill me!" panted the doctor. "He tried – tried to throw me out of the train! You saw for yourself!"
"But why?" I asked. "What had you done?"
"Nothing – absolutely nothing!" he stammered, striving to rearrange his dress and to smooth his hair. "He suddenly said something – and then opened the door – and sprang at me."
"But what did he say?" I insisted. And it was curious that we both spoke of the man at the other end of the carriage as someone not responsible for what he had done.
"Never mind what he said!" exclaimed the doctor pettishly. "You just came in time. He'd have had me out in another moment."
In the surprise of his escape, the doctor did not seem astonished at finding me there so opportunely he merely looked at the dejected Capper in that frightened way, and kept the greatest possible distance from him.
"Why do you take the man about with you, if he's liable to these fits?" I asked.
"I don't take him about!" he exclaimed. "He follows me. I can't get rid of him. He sticks to my heels like a dog. I don't like it; one of these days it may happen that there's no one there in time – and that'll be the end of the matter." All this in a whisper, as he leaned forward towards where I sat.
"Give him the slip," I suggested; and now I watched the doctor's face intently.
"Don't I tell you I can't," he snapped at me. "Besides, I don't want to lose sight of him; I'm sorry for the poor old fellow. He'd only drift into some madhouse or workhouse infirmary. I don't know what to do."
The doctor was dabbling nervously at his forehead with a handkerchief; he was in a very sweat of terror. And at the further end of the carriage – huddled up there, listening – sat the little grey-haired man, like some grim Fate that must dog the steps of the other man to an end which no one could see. A sudden ghastly theory had entered into my mind; I determined to probe the matter a little further.
"You suggest," I said in a whisper, "that he has twice tried to kill you; surely it is an easy matter to give him into the hands of the police? If he's insane, he'll be properly looked after; if he is not, he will be properly punished. And you will be safe."
Bardolph Just looked out of the window, and slowly shook his head. "You don't understand; I can't do that," he replied. "I can't explain; there's a reason."
We left the matter at that, and presently, when the train drew into the London station, we all got out. The doctor and I walked away side by side, and I knew that Capper was following. I knew something else, too – that I must get away as quickly as possible, back to Debora. For I realised that as yet the doctor had not been informed that Debora was missing from Green Barn.
"Well, you don't want me any more," I said to him, stopping and turning about. "I'll take my leave."
"Look here!" he exclaimed, suddenly seizing me with his uninjured hand, and giving a sideways glance at Capper, "I'll forget everything and forgive everything if you'll only stick to me. I don't want to be left alone with this man."
"I have work of my own to do," I answered him, "and my way is not your way. Pull yourself together, man; you're in London, among crowds. What harm can a feeble old creature like that do to you?"
"You've seen for yourself – twice," he whispered. "I'll do anything you like – pay you anything you like!"
I shook myself free. "It's impossible," I said; and a moment later I was walking rapidly away; I had no desire that the doctor should follow me.
Looking back, I saw the man with his arm in a sling going at a great rate across the station, and as he went he glanced back over his shoulder. And always behind him, going at a little trot to keep up with him, went William Capper, not to be shaken off.
I found Debora awaiting me, but I said nothing to her of my startling encounter in the train. I only told her that all was ready for her reception at the house of Uncle Zabdiel, and we set off at once, after settling the score at the hotel. Our journey was without incident, and in due course I rang the bell at my uncle's gate, and saw the door open presently to receive the girl. I went in with her for the necessary introductions.
To my delight I found Uncle Zabdiel rubbing his hands, and evidently pleased to have her there. He went so far as to imprint a cold salute on her cheek, and even to touch her under her soft rounded chin with his bony finger.
"It's a pretty bird you've captured," he said, grimacing at me. "I'll take care of her, never fear."
I thanked him, and then told him of my intention to seek a lodging elsewhere. He seemed surprised, as did Debora. I merely told him that I had business to attend to, and that I could not very well be so far from London for the next few days at least. My real reason was, however, a very different one.
I had made up my mind to pursue this matter of Capper to the very end; the thing fascinated me, and I could not let it alone. So that, after I had seen the dark house swallow up my darling, I went off, designing to find a lodging for myself between that house and the one in which Bardolph Just lived. It was very late, but I was not over particular as to where I slept, and I knew that I could easily find a room.
But I was restless, and had many things to think about; so that it ended finally in my walking that long distance back to the doctor's house, and finding myself, something to my surprise, outside its gates at a little after two o'clock in the morning. All the house was silent, and the windows darkened. I was turning away, when I almost stumbled over someone sitting on the high bank at the side of the road opposite the gate. As I drew back with a muttered apology the man looked up, and I knew him.
It was William Capper. In the very instant of his raising his head I had seen a quick bright look of intelligence come over his face, but now the mask he habitually wore seemed to be drawn down over his features, and he smiled in that vacuous way I had before noted.
"What are you doing here?" I asked.
"He's turned me out," he said, in the old feeble voice. "I don't know why." I saw his plucking fingers go up to his lips again, as he feebly shook his head.
"Yes, you do," I said sternly. "Come, Capper, you've nothing to fear from me; why don't you speak the truth? You've twice tried to kill the man. What is your reason?"
He shook his head, and smiled at me in the same vacant fashion. "I don't know – I don't understand," he said. "So much that I've forgotten – so much that I can't remember, and never shall remember. Something snapped – here."
He touched his forehead, and shook his head in that forlorn way; and presently sank down on the bank again, and put his head in his hands, and seemed to go to sleep.
When I came away at last, in despair of finding out anything from him, he was sitting in the same attitude, and might have appeared, to any casual observer, as a poor, feeble old creature with a clouded mind. Yet I knew with certainty that something had happened to the man, and that he was alive and alert; I knew, too, that grimly enough, and for some reason unknown to me, he had set out to kill Dr. Bardolph Just. And I knew that he would succeed.
CHAPTER XII.
AN APPOINTMENT WITH DEATH
It will readily be understood that, by the movements of the various players in the game in which, in a sense, I was merely a pawn, I had been placed in such a position that I was to an extent no longer master of my own actions. I had been compelled, by the turn of events, to place Debora in the hands of my uncle, and I knew that at any moment now news might come from Green Barn that the girl was gone. I marvelled that that news had not arrived ere this.
Upon that latter point the only conjecture I could arrive at was that the woman Martha Leach had not yet dared to send her news to Bardolph Just, and in that act of cowardice she would probably be supported by Harvey Scoffold. Moreover, I knew that the doctor was too fully occupied with his own fears concerning the man Capper to give much attention to anything else.
Nor, on the other hand, did I feel that I had advanced matters as rapidly as I could have wished. True, I had got Debora out of the hands of the doctor and Harvey Scoffold; true again, I had hidden her in the house of Uncle Zabdiel. But there the matter stood, and I was relying, in a sense, solely on the help of one whom every instinct taught me to distrust: I mean, of course, Zabdiel Blowfield. Moreover, I was no further advanced in regard to any future status on my own account. I had no prospect of making my way in the world, or of doing anything to help the girl I loved. It seemed as though I stood in the midst of a great tangle, twisting this way and that in my efforts to free myself, and getting more hopelessly involved with each movement.
In my doubts and perplexities I turned naturally to Debora; I may be said to have haunted that house wherein she lived. Uncle Zabdiel appeared to be very friendly, and for two days I came and went as I liked, seeing Debora often. And even in that short time I came to see that the deadly old house was having its effect upon the girl, just as it had upon every one that came within its walls; she began to droop, and to wear a frightened look, and not all my reassurances would bring any brightness into her eyes.
"I'm afraid of the place," she whispered the second day, clinging to me. "That tall boy creeps about like a ghost – "
"And looks like one," I broke in with a laugh. "He's the best fellow in the world, is Andrew Ferkoe; you've nothing to fear from him."
"And Mr. Blowfield: he looks at me so strangely, and is altogether so queer," went on Debora. "Last night he begged me to sit up with him in his study until quite late – kept on asking me if I didn't hear this noise and that, and was I sure that nothing stirred in the shadows in the corner? I felt at last as if I should go mad if I wasn't allowed to scream."
"My darling girl, it won't be very long now before I'm able to take you away," I said, more hopefully than I felt. "My uncle's a good fellow, in his way, but he has lived a lonely life so long that he's not like other men. Have a little more patience, Debora dear; the sun will shine upon us both before long, and we shall come out of the shadows."
"But there is something else," she said. "I was in my room last night, at the top of the house here, sitting in the dark, thinking. Everything was very silent; it was as if all the world lay asleep. And then I saw a curious thing – something that frightened me."
"What was it?" I asked quickly.
"On the other side of the road facing the house is a long wall," she began in a whisper, "and just outside the gate, as you know, is a lamp-post. From where I sat in my window I could see that the wall was lit up, and across it again and again, while I watched for more than an hour, went two shadows."
"What sort of shadows?" I asked, as lightly as I could; yet I'll own I was startled.
"Shadows of men," she replied. "It was evident that they were walking up and down in the road, watching the house. The shadows were curious, because one was a very big one, walking stiffly, while the other was small, and seemed to creep along behind the first. And I know whose the shadows were – at least, I know one of them."
"How do you know?" I asked.
"I know the one man was Dr. Just," she answered me confidently, with a little quick nod.
"My dearest girl, how could you possibly know that?" I asked.
"Because the man walked with an easy stride, and yet his shadow showed only one arm swinging," she said. "Don't you see what I mean? The other arm was fastened to him in some way, held close against him."
I whistled softly, and looked into her eyes. "I see," I said; "that would be the sling. Now, what in the world has brought him here?"
"He's come to find you," said Debora quickly. "He will have heard from Green Barn that I am gone, and that you are gone; he will guess that if he finds you he may find me. The reason for his waiting outside would be that he might intercept you going in or coming out."
"There's something in that," I admitted. "However, of one thing I am certain in my own mind. Uncle Zabdiel won't give you up, nor will he admit the man into the house if he can avoid it. I'm not taking any stand by Uncle Zabdiel's integrity," I added. "I am only certain that he has a wholesome dread of me, and will not offend me. Rest easy; nothing will happen to you, my darling."
Just before my departure I was met by my uncle at the door of his study. He mysteriously beckoned me in, and closed the door. Then, something to my surprise, he buttonholed me, and pulled me further into the room, and stared up into my face with a pathetic expression of entreaty in his eyes.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"My dear boy – my only nephew – I want you to believe that I'm being honest with you as far as I can; I don't want you to judge me hastily," he began. "People get such wrong notions in their heads, and you might hear something that would bring you rushing back here, and would leave me no time for explanation. Will you believe what I'm going to tell you?"
He was fumbling me all over. I saw that he had been troubled by something, and that his dread of me had been strongly revived. I was playing for too great a stake then to make the blunder of being smooth with him. I frowned and folded my arms, and looked down at him sternly.
"Come, out with it!" I said.
"There, now you're beginning to lose your temper before ever I've begun to say a word," he said, backing away from me. "Do be reasonable!"
"I don't know what the word is yet," I answered him. "Let's hear it."
"Well, to put it briefly, that woman Leach has been here." He blurted out the words, and stood looking at me as though wondering how I should take the news.
"Well, what then?" I asked him gravely. "What did you do?"
"Everything you would have wished me to do," he replied quickly. "I told her nothing; I sent her away again."
"Did she enquire about me, or about Debora?" I asked.
"About you first, and then about Debora," he whispered. "But, oh, I put her off the scent. I was sharp with her. I asked what sort of man she took me to be, to admit any minx to my house. And she went away, knowing nothing."
"That's good, and I'm very grateful to you," I assured him, now feeling that I could give him all my confidence. "They'll leave no stone unturned to get hold of the girl."
"They?" He looked at me questioningly.
"Yes, the woman as well as her master. I have just heard that Dr. Just has been seen hanging about outside the house late last night, with another man."
I saw his face blanch, I saw him moisten his lips with his tongue and clutch with one feeble hand at the back of his chair. I took no particular notice of that, although long after I wished I had done; I knew how easily startled he was.
"You say that two men – two men watched this house last night, very late?" he muttered.
"Yes," I answered carelessly. "And one of them at least – this Bardolph Just – will stick at nothing to get what he wants. He's of the sort that snaps his fingers at a small matter of death."
My Uncle Zabdiel twisted the chair round with a nervous movement, and sank into it. I saw that he was trembling from head to foot. He seemed to be brooding heavily upon something. Looking at him, I caught his eyes more than once wandering covertly in my direction.
"And you think that he would do anything to get hold of this girl?" he asked.
"There is not only the girl to be considered by him, but the very large fortune which belongs to her, and which he also wishes to get hold of. I tell you he will stick at nothing," I assured him earnestly.
"He will stick at nothing!" he echoed, drawing a deep breath.
"By the way, Uncle Zabdiel, have you been troubled with that dream of yours again?" I asked carelessly.
To my surprise he started to his feet with what was almost a cry. "No, no! why should I dream that again?" he stammered, staring at me. "Haven't I tried to forget it – haven't I persuaded myself that I had forgotten it. Oh, dear God! that these things should be sent to trouble a poor old man who has done his best always for everybody!" he moaned. "There, there – go away; leave me alone! I want time to think – or rather time not to think."
I went away and left him, closing the door after me. Just as I reached the hall door I came upon that tall youth, Andrew Ferkoe. He grinned amiably. A sudden thought occurring to me, I drew him aside, and whispered to him —
"Look here," I said, "I believe you're a friend of mine, aren't you?"
"Rather!" he said. "You're so wonderful; you've seen such things, and done such things."
"Never mind about that," I said hastily. "I want you to promise to come to me, if you think Miss Matchwick is in any danger, or if you think anyone is plotting against her. See, here is my address" – I scribbled it on a scrap of paper and thrust it into his hands – "and I shall rely upon you to be faithful, to her as well as to me. Will you?"
He seemed quite elated at his commission. "Do you really trust me?" he asked gleefully. "I'd do anything for you, and for her. I feel somehow that I'm getting braver and stronger. I shan't put up much longer with old Blowfield's bullying. I feel sometimes when I look at him that I could do murder!"
I laughed as I went out of the house. The idea of this weak-kneed, lanky youth, of all others, "doing murder" seemed too ridiculous. I went on my way feeling pretty well satisfied with the turn of events, and firmly convinced that the very fears under which Uncle Zabdiel laboured were the greatest safeguard Debora and I could have. Moreover, I had gained one other friend in that strange house, and that was Andrew Ferkoe.
My lodging was in a little house not very far, as you may have guessed, from that house belonging to Uncle Zabdiel in which Debora had so opportunely found shelter. On this particular evening I was in no hurry to retire to the one little room I had rented. On a sudden impulse I made up my mind that I would linger a little while in the neighbourhood, and would see, if possible, for myself whether or not those two shadows on the wall really belonged to the doctor and to William Capper. So I took up my station not very far from the house, but in a position from which I could observe it easily; and there I waited.
I will not describe my long wait, nor the shadows I saw, which might have been the shadows of the doctor and Capper, but which were not. I was disappointed fifty times at least, felt my heart jump as many times when two men, or even one man, came anywhere in my direction, or happened by the merest chance to glance towards that house. I had not fully made up my mind what to do should either man put in an appearance, and indeed I was saved the trouble of putting into execution any plan I might have evolved, by reason of the fact that no one I knew came near the house.
Once, it is true, from where I watched, I saw an upper window open, and the head of Uncle Zabdiel, like some extremely ugly gargoyle, obtrude itself into the night. I guessed, with an inward chuckle, that he might be looking for those shadows for which I also was on the watch. But soon afterwards that window was closed, and the house was wrapped in silence and darkness. I kept my vigil until something towards three in the morning, and then went off to my lodging. In five minutes I was undressed and in bed; the rest was a dreamless sleep.
Lest I should be watched, I determined that I would not go near Zabdiel Blowfield's house in daylight, or without taking due precautions. I thought it possible that the woman Martha Leach might make a further attempt, for the sake of her master, to discover something about me or about Debora. I determined that I would not play into their hands. I remembered what Bardolph Just had said about going abroad; I had great hopes that he might carry that into effect, and so rid us all of his presence. Perhaps in a saner moment I reflected that he was scarcely the type of man to give up the game so lightly; but then when one is in love one is usually optimistic. However, there was nothing for it but to wait, and to possess my soul in patience.
I was taking things very easily indeed that evening, lounging in the window of my room, and smoking, and looking at the early stars that were peeping out above me, when I became aware of a strange-looking figure coming slowly up the deserted little street. Without troubling very much about it, I became interested in the figure, which was that of a tall, ungainly young man, whose face and head, from my elevated position, were hidden by a hat which appeared to be many sizes too large for him. He was craning his neck this way and that, apparently looking for some particular house; every now and then he referred to a scrap of paper which he held in his fingers. I was watching him idly, when all at once I woke from my half-dream and started to my feet; with my hands leaning on the window-sill I stared down at him intently.
At that same moment he happened to look up towards me and I recognised him. It was Andrew Ferkoe. I waved my hand, and nodded to him, and with every extravagant sign of precaution he looked to right and to left, and then came to the door of the house. I ran down and admitted him myself; then I took him up to my room before permitting him to say a word. Once in the room, with the door shut, I saw to my horror that he was shaking from head to foot, and was alternately slapping his breast, and striving to get some words out.
"What's the matter?" I asked. "Take your time about it; there's nothing to get excited about."
He gasped again in that inarticulate fashion once or twice; then he blurted out his message.
"She – she's gone!"
I pushed him into a chair and stood over him, with my hands on my hips, striving by my own steadiness to put some steadiness into him. For a time he only moaned, and shook his head and gaped at me, but at last, by dint of threats and even some coaxing, I got his story out of him.
"Early this morning old Blowfield sent me with a telegram addressed to a Dr. Just; it was written out on a piece of paper, and I had to copy it at the post-office. It was addressed to Dr. Just at a house in Highgate.
"Well, well, what did it say?" I asked impatiently.
"I'm coming to it as fast as I can," said Andrew Ferkoe resentfully. "You forget I ain't used to this sort of thing. It simply said, 'Come at once; can give you news of the runaway,' and it was signed 'Z. Blowfield,' with the address."
I strangled an oath in my throat; I vowed that Uncle Zabdiel should pay dearly for his treachery. "And what happened after that?" I demanded.
"About mid-day a tall, dark man drove up in a great hurry and asked for old Blowfield – at least, he asked for Mr. Blowfield," went on Ferkoe. "I was turned out of the room, but they talked together for a long time. Then the bell was rung, and I was told to go and find the young lady, and tell her she was wanted. After she'd gone into the room I did what I'd never done before," he added with a chuckle. "I listened outside."
"Good lad!" I murmured.
He went on again, seemingly elated at my praise of him. "They kept on talking, all three of them, and I heard the young lady say over and over again, 'I won't! I won't!' and the dark man kept on threatening, and saying what he would do, and old Blowfield kept on telling her that it was for the best, and that she'd better go back, though I don't know in the least where he meant her to go. The door was open just the least little bit, and I saw and heard everything, because old Blowfield would never dream that I should dare to do a thing like that."
"You're very slow!" I cried impatiently. "Tell me what happened then; what did the young lady do? Did she refuse to leave the house?"
"Yes, she kept on saying she wouldn't. And I'm being as fast as I can, only there's such a lot to tell. I should get on faster if you weren't so impatient."
I subdued my wrath as best I could. I decided to let him go on in his own fashion.
"And then the funniest thing happened," he said, sitting upright in his chair in his excitement, and staring at me round-eyed. "The dark man – Dr. Just, I suppose – began to spread out his hands – like this" – he made a curious fluttering movement with his hands before my face, so grotesque a movement that I should have laughed under any other circumstances – "and began to talk in a very low, smooth voice to the young lady. At first she cried out to him to keep away from her, and covered up her face with her hands, but after a time she dropped the hands and stared at him. I saw her drop down into a chair and shut her eyes. He never left off talking; he seemed to be telling her something she was to do. He spoke so softly that I couldn't catch everything, but he said something about a carriage, and about four o'clock in the afternoon. Then suddenly he clapped his hands, and she jumped up, and looked at him as if she was frightened."
"You dolt!" I shouted, shaking him. "This devilish business happened at mid-day, and here's night, and you've only just arrived to tell the tale."
"It wasn't my fault," he whimpered. "You ought to know what that house is like; I'm watched every minute. I tried over and over again to slip out, and couldn't; I only managed it, as it was, after it got dark. I've done my best."
"I beg your pardon," I said penitently. "I'm quite sure you have. Now tell me what else happened."
"Dr. Just went away, and the young lady went off to her room. I went back to work, and old Blowfield kept on walking up and down the room, and muttering to himself. Once he stopped, in order to ask me about you. He wanted to know if I'd seen you."
"Yes, I should think he would want to know that!" I muttered between my teeth.
"He said if you came near the house I wasn't to let you in; I was to go for the police, or do something else to keep you away. Above all, I was to give him warning, so that he could lock himself in somewhere."
I laughed grimly. I knew that I had already secured the allegiance of this poor warder, and could get at my man when I wanted to do so. I urged him to go on with his tale.
"Then, just as four o'clock was striking, and I was working, old Blowfield gave me an awful fright; he suddenly put his hand on my shoulder and whispered in my ear. 'Do you hear that?' he said; and I wondered what he meant. And then I heard someone coming downstairs, singing as they came."
I could scarcely contain myself, but I determined I would wait for the end. In his excitement Andrew Ferkoe had risen to his feet, and was staring at me in the wildest fashion.
"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.